"You miserable sonsofbitches!" Clete said, his voice breaking.
He ran back up the stairs to Uncle Guillermo's playroom. Halfway up, he could hear the man screaming again.
"For the love of the Blessed Virgin, please help me!"
He reached the playroom. The man had crawled to the bathroom, where he had pulled a towel from the rack and was attempting to make a tourniquet with it.
He looked at Clete.
"Please, Se?or, for the love of God, help me!"
Clete raised the pistol and shot him in his good leg. And then, when the man looked at him in surprise and terror, he shot him again, aiming between his eyes. His aim was a little off; he hit him in the center of his forehead.
[THREE]
4730 Avenida Libertador
Buenos Aires
0115 20 December 1942
El Teniente Coronel Bernardo Martin made an illegal U-turn in the middle of Avenida Libertador and pulled up behind one of the five Polic?a Federal police cars parked in front of the Frade Guest House.
His action attracted the attention of two uniformed Polic?a Federal officersthe one assigned to make sure that traffic continued to flow along Avenida Libertador, and the one assigned to make sure that no unauthorized persons entered the scene of the crime.
Both greeted him as he left his car.
"Yo soy el Coronel Martin, del Servicio de Seguridad del Interior," he said. Though he was out of uniformhe was wearing only the shirt he had worn that day and a pair of casual trousers he spoke with such authority that one of the policemen saluted and the other begged his pardon for stopping him.
He entered the foyer of the Guest House and found el Com-andante Habanzo in animated conversation with several Polic?a Federal officerstwo uniformed senior officers, one a capit?n, the other a teniente, and two plainclothes detectives, most probably from the Homicide Bureau.
Habanzo looked enormously relieved to see him.
"Mi Coronel," he said.
Interesting that he is here,Mart?n thought as Habanzo briefly described the carnage at the Guest House. Is this a manifestation of his devotion to duty, inspired by our little chat earlier? Or is there another reason?
"You are?" the Capitan asked, not at all friendly, when Habanzo finished.
"Mi jefe, el Coronel Mart?n," Habanzo introduced him.
"¿Credenciales?"
Christ! They are in my jacket pocket.
"Capitan," Mart?n said. "You have two choices. You may accept the word of el Comandante Habanzo, whose credentials I presume you have seen, that I am who I say I am ..."
"Credenciales, por favor."
".. .or we will all stand here while I telephone my office and have an agent dispatched to my home to pick up my credentials. While we are waiting, I will telephone my friend el Coronel Savia-Gonzalez, wake him from a sound sleep, and tell him that one of his capit?ns is interfering with Internal Security."
"With respect, mi Coronel," the Capitan said. "We have three murders here. Murder is the responsibility of my office."
What we have here, according to el Comandante Habanzo, is three bodies. If my investigation indicates that there were in fact three murders, and that these murders have no connection with Internal Security, then I will happily turn over the investigation to the Polic?a Federal."
He locked eyes with the Capitan, who after a moment backed down.
"S?, mi Coronel."
"Where is the American?" Mart?n asked.
"In there, mi Coronel," Habanzo said, pointing to a closed door, before which stood a uniformed Polic?a Federal. "It is the library."
Has he been interrogated?''
"No, mi Coronel. He refuses to answer any questions."
"I have placed him under arrest," the Capitan said.
"No, you haven't," Martin said. "Be good enough, Capit?n, to accompany el Comandante and me on a preliminary survey of the crime scene."
"There are two," Habanzo said. "The kitchen, and the apartment on the upper floor."
"We will begin with the kitchen," Martin said. "Where is it?"
"Through that door, mi Coronel."
Martin's stomach nearly turned when he saw the body sitting at the kitchen table. There was already the sickly sweet smell of blood, and flies.
"Get a towel, or a sheet or something, and cover the body."
"Photographs have not been taken," the Capitan protested.
"If I decide photographs are in order, the sheet can be removed," Martin said, and went to the doors leading outside from the kitchen to examine them for marks of forcible entry. There were none.
Which means nothing. People will remove dead bolts and chains to open doors to complete strangers.
He turned from the door to the basement.
"Habanzo, have you examined the door from the street to the garage, and the front d6or, for signs of forcible entry?"
"1 have," the Capitan answered for him. "Or rather, one of the Homicide Bureau investigators has," he corrected himself. "There were none."
"Thank you," Martin said. "How do we reach theyou said 'upper-floor apartment'?"
"There is a stairway and an elevator, mi Coronel," Habanzo said.
"We will use the elevator," Martin said. "It may be necessary to seek evidence on the stairway. I don't think robbers would use the elevator; they make noise." He turned to the Capitan: "To judge from the position of the woman's body, I would say that she was sitting there when her throat was cut; that she was not moved there. Would you agree?"
The Capit?n nodded. "Which suggests she was taken by surprise," he said. "Which in turn suggests she knew the people who murdered her."
"Possibly," Martin agreed. "Where is the elevator?"
The smell of blood in the apartment was even stronger than in the kitchen. And there were more flies.
Martin examined both bodies, then the trail of blood leading to the bathroom, and the towel used as a tourniquet. The tiles surrounding the bathtub were shattered, as well as the tub itself, which sat inside the tile base.
He returned to the bedroom and saw the Colt single-action revolver on the desk. A holster for a .45 automatic and an empty clip lay on the table. A bowl for pencils was on the desk. Martin picked up a pencil, hooked the trigger guard of the Colt revolver, and sniffed at the barrel. It had not been fired.
"Other weapons?" he asked.
"There is a .45 automatic, mi Coronel," Habanzo said. "It has been fired. It is in my possession."
"Where did you find it?"
"When the young Norteamericano opened the door to me, he had it in his hand. He gave it to me."
"A stolen Army pistol," the Capit?n said.
"Not necessarily," Martin said. "This house is owned by el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade. The pistol may be his. It is conceivable that he loaned it to his son for protection."
"That is illegal."
"You tell el Coronel that, Capit?n," Martin said.
He looked around the room again.
"I now wish to speak to the Norteamericano," he said. "Here. Habanzo, will you bring him up?"
"You wish to talk to him here, in the scene of the murders?" the Capitan asked.
"It sometimes makes people uneasy to be brought to the scene of the crime," Martin said. "Uneasy people often say more than they wish. Habanzo, just put him on the elevator. I'd like to speak to him alone."