Chapter 16
“What color is it?”
“Blue. It’s a nice bit of fabric. I’m almost done, a stitch here and there left. It should look good on her.”
“Everything you make looks good,” Marisol said, looking admiringly at her sketch.
The baker and his assistant were busy tending the ovens, and the bakery was deserted at that time of the day.
The girls could chat by the cash register without interruption.
Marisol cooled herself with a cheap paper fan in one hand and ran her fingers down the sketch, touching the sleeves, the skirt.
“What a lovely thing.”
“It’s a copy of a dress she saw in a magazine at Sarita Novo’s house,” Inés said.
“She’ll be the best-dressed woman during the festival. They’re saying Guadalupe Lazcano bought fireworks from Tultepec to try to outshine Jorge Olvera’s fireworks, so it ought to be a fun weekend.”
A cot had been dragged into every available room in the guesthouse so each could fit two people rather than one.
For a moment Inés had thought her aunt might order Ulises to decamp and sleep in her room during the three days of festivities, but he was not asked to move his things.
When visitors streamed into their town like this, taking every bed, there was always a mountain of laundry to tackle and many dishes to wash.
It wouldn’t be fun, although she supposed she would enjoy the dancing. She always did.
Inés grabbed the sketch and folded it, stuffing it back in her pocket.
“Did you hear about Cándido’s car?” Marisol asked. “A bull wrecked it.”
“What?”
Marisol grinned. She looked over her shoulder, to make sure that the baker and his assistant were still busy minding the ovens, and leaned forward on the counter.
“He went to demand payment from Filomeno for one of those loans he took from your aunt. Either Filomeno forgot to close the door to the bull’s pen or he left it open on purpose, but wouldn’t you know it, that mean old bull rushed out and gored that car.”
“A bull can’t gore a car!”
“It damaged it. And then Cándido panicked and tried to drive away and hit a tree.”
“He was in the car when the bull attacked it?”
“Must have been. He smashed a mirror and dented the front. He’s in a foul mood! Even worse than usual. Every time he comes in here, he snaps his fingers at me. And the other day he kept asking me about your aunt’s husband again, he wouldn’t let up.”
Inés swallowed, her fingers curling around the piece of paper in her pocket and crushing it into a ball. “Asking what?”
“You know how that man came in wanting to get directions to your aunt’s house, and we got to conversing.
Cándido told me to repeat everything I’d told him.
As if I could remember! He snapped his fingers, twice, you bet he did,” Marisol said as she finally placed the last bolillo in a paper bag and finished adding up Inés’s purchases.
“What did you say?” Inés asked.
“Same thing I told you that day: that the man asked about a Mr. Linares or a Mr. Lagos, and I told him Mr. Linares was married to Perla Inclán, but I didn’t know no Mr. Lagos. Say, did Ulises speak to that fellow?”
The cash drawer sprang open with a loud clang. The noise startled Inés and she almost dropped the coins she was holding in the palm of her hand.
“Oh…yes, they spoke. There was a misunderstanding, but it’s been resolved.”
She took her change and her bread and walked out of the bakery. Her heart beat fast in her chest, but then she forced herself to slow down. What was she afraid of? The investigator had left town, and he hadn’t even talked to her aunt. She was getting her stomach into knots for no reason.
Then, as she reached the gates of the house, she saw Cándido standing there and wondered if she could turn around and disappear down an alley. But he’d spotted her.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “You’ve come to visit my aunt? I can fetch her.”
“I’ve come to see Perla, but I also wanted to have a word with you.”
“With me?” She pushed open the gates, which groaned in protest. “I don’t know what you’d want to talk about with me.”
“Don’t play dumb. I gave you money and you provided nothing in return. You were supposed to find out something useful about Ulises.”
“I’m not sure what I could find out. It’s not like he talks much to me.”
The sound of the opening gates attracted Diógenes. The dog, which had been napping under a lemon tree, came rushing toward them and began to bark at Cándido.
“Please, can you hold this?” she asked, handing the paper bag with the bread to Cándido while she leaned down to calm the overexcited animal.
Cándido crouched down. “What did he talk about with that detective? I know you, and I’ll bet you were spying through a keyhole. I’ve seen how you behave at your aunt’s table. Always the quiet one, but always listening.”
“Mr. Linares asked me to fetch him a coffee, so I did. By the time I brought it back, the detective was leaving. I didn’t hear anything, but they shook hands, and they seemed to be on good terms. I got the impression the man wanted to be thorough, but he didn’t think Mr. Linares was in trouble.”
“He must have said what he was after, why he was looking for him. No man hops on a train to Puerco Ahogado because he’s bored.”
“It’s like Mr. Linares said: he was looking for Mr. Lagos, who used to live in the same guesthouse in Mexico City, but Mr. Linares already explained to you that he wasn’t friends with that Mr. Lagos.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
She looked down at the ground and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he stretched out a hand and clutched her chin, tipping it up so she was forced to look at him.
“It’s harder to lie when you look into a man’s eyes. Look at me, you silly girl. What aren’t you telling me?”
She held the dog in her arms. It wriggled, upset, trying to gain its freedom. She shook her head and sprang up. “Nothing. That’s all I know.”
“Hello there! Did you ring the bell?” Ulises asked. “Diógenes! Come here, boy!”
He stood at the door of the house and smiled, slapping a hand against his leg to attract the dog. Diógenes ran toward him, wagging its tail.
Cándido shoved the bag with the bread back into her hands and went toward Ulises. “I did ring. Is Perla home? I need to borrow her car. Mine is at the mechanic’s shop today and I must fetch many boxes of candles for the festivities next weekend.”
“Ah, the festivities,” Ulises said as he busied himself petting the dog, and smiled at Cándido. “Is this an errand for Father Anselmo? My wife would never say no to helping the church. She’s in the sitting room. I think you know the way.”
“I do know it,” Cándido grumbled.
He stomped inside the house. Ulises looked over his shoulder and grinned. “He’s angry.”
“I hope his stupid car is in the shop for a whole month. Come with me to my room, we can talk while they’re together.”
They dashed up the stairs. When they walked into her room Ulises noticed the mannequin wearing a blue dress. “Your latest creation, huh?”
“I hope Aunt Perla will like it.”
“It’s beautiful. You could open your own shop and sell this.”
She smiled. If she had any money she would open her own shop and sell fancy clothes to all the wealthy girls, all the actresses. But she had nothing. She glanced at the pictures of movie stars adorning her walls. He looked in the same direction.
“I’d dance with those starlets. I’d go to all the good nightclubs,” he said, as if he could guess her thoughts.
“Which ones are the good clubs?”
“El Patio. Anyone living in Mexico City knows El Patio. Or Ciro’s, or El Minuit. Any place with a floor show and a house band and beautiful cigarette girls who wink at you.”
“You’ve been there? To El Patio?”
“No,” he said, examining the sleeve of the mannequin’s dress. He smiled. “But I’m going to go there, don’t you worry. I’ll have a reserved table. Or I’ll buy an old hacienda and spruce it up. Move to the countryside where the bombs can’t hit you.”
“What bombs?”
“We’re at war, haven’t you heard?”
“They’re at war in Europe,” she said with a shrug. “All that happens here is the prices go up. They don’t drop bombs over your head.”
“You never know. These are dangerous times. There were nights when I was living in Mexico City when I felt this heavy weight on my chest as I was sleeping, and I thought, ‘God, the roof caved in over my head. I’ll have to dig myself out of the rubble.’ ”
“That’s a stupid fear.”
“I know. But fears are often like that. Irrational and stupid. I’m sure you fear something. Thoughts keep you up at night and you can’t subdue them.”
He looked at her carefully, and she didn’t like the way his eyes lingered on her, as if he wished she would reciprocate and share a deep fear of her own.
She feared this town, this life, but most of all she feared the future.
She grabbed a piece of ribbon and toyed with it, evading his gaze. “We need to try the poison again.”
“Sure, at some point,” he replied carelessly, as if they were talking about a Sunday outing.
“When? Cándido suspects there’s something going on.”
“He doesn’t know anything. Calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said, although that was a lie. Cándido made her nervous, and she was certain he’d sniff out the truth soon if they didn’t spring into action. She pressed on stubbornly. “I’m not prepared to spend the rest of my life waiting.”
“I’m not prepared to spend the rest of my life in jail if we act too rashly,” he said with a jagged smile. “Don’t you think it would be a bit funny to have two deaths in a house only a few months apart?”
“We didn’t kill Nepomuceno.”
“No, we didn’t. But it doesn’t matter, it would still look funny. Besides, we almost killed him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He had the bottle in his room. For all we know, he took a sip.”
“He did not,” she said hotly. “He took the pills because he was stupid. He was a damn fool.”
“It could have been both things. Thank God they didn’t perform an autopsy.”
“It was the pills. It wasn’t us!”
He shushed her. “Calm down. Someone will hear you.”