“I don’t know what you mean.” Licha’s foot was still tapping.
“The law requires him to keep a record of his fares. If he doesn’t, they take away his license plates. A cab hauls passengers, you know, not oranges to market.”
“Uh-hmm,” sighed Sergio. “If he hasn’t had them lifted, he’ll lend them to you. Memo’s a real sport with his friends. If you pay him enough. He’ll lend you anything. Even his wife.”
Lichita whirled, to stare at him with fury. “You shut your mouth.” Then immediately she stroked Felix’s lapels and gazed at him tenderly. Licha could change expression the way you change stations on a radio. “I’ve been so lonesome, honey.”
“I can see that.”
“No, I mean it. Did you hear about Simon?”
“They killed him.”
“Ooooh, baby!” Sergio laughed from the bed.
The nurse nodded repeatedly, tears in her eyes, her head resting on Felix’s shoulder. “I told him. That man with the funny eyeglasses doesn’t fool around. I told him. He shouldn’t have gone to the Hilton that night to tell you not to go to the Palace. He double-crossed old Four-eyes; he wanted to be sure you were there at the ceremony with the big shot. I told Simon to go easy, Four-eyes always collects his debts…”
“You think that’s why Ayub was killed?”
“Sweetheart, you didn’t even ask me, but I’m telling you the truth, I want to tell you everything, so you’ll love me just a little…”
“I already know what happened,” said Felix, listening to Licha but looking at Sergio; another blue-eyed blond, short and fair. Obviously, this was the type Licha favored, but this boy wasn’t a poor dupe like Ayub. Felix looked more carefully at the gold-buttoned blue blazer tossed over the chair, the gray-flannel trousers, the shirt with the Pierre Cardin label, the black Gucci loafers.
“He didn’t have anyone in Mexico, I was his only friend,” Licha whimpered.
“I know that, too. How did he die?”
“They left him here for me to find. As full of holes as a sieve. They propped him against the door, so when Memo opened it, he fell into his arms.”
“Why here, Licha?”
“I told you, he didn’t have anyone else, old Spooky knew that…”
“And you think the Director General’s shut all the mouths that might talk. Don’t kid yourself.”
Suddenly all Licha’s defenses crumpled; she stopped sniveling, her foot stopped tapping, her jaws began to move as if she were chewing gum, but the gum was her face, dirty, gray gum.
Felix put his hands around her throat. “I want his record book.”
“I swear…”
He pushed her away and began to rummage through the drawers. He looked in the drawer of the linoleum-covered table, and all the drawers in a kitchen improvised from a hot plate on a battered table, two saucepans, a frying pan, a mortar, empty beer and Nescafé containers, and chipped clay utensils decorated with flowers and ducks.
Licha didn’t move a muscle. But Sergio threw off the sheet and jumped out of bed, reaching for his clothes. “You’re right, Lichis. I’d better be going.”
Felix pushed him back onto the bed and bent over the telephone Memo kept hidden like a treasure in the pillows. Beneath the telephone was a hardcover notebook with marbleized binding.
Licha laughed. “Oh, is that the notebook you meant? I’m so dumb! That’s where Memo jots down the addresses of his customers when they call. Is that called a record book? Excuse my lack of ignorance, as they say.”
She was talking to Felix, but looking at Sergio. “What are you looking for, sweetie?”
Without speaking, Felix riffled through the notebook. Simultaneously, Licha pressed Felix’s hand and shook her head at Sergio. “What’s the big mystery, sweetheart? Memo just does the normal things. He works his two shifts, usually from six to three and six till twelve, except when a customer hires him by the hour or wants him to take him out of town, you know, a little pleasure trip…”
He showed Licha the paper I’d given him. “Is this Memo’s license number?”
“Ye-es…” Licha sounded hesitant. She looked at Sergio. “I think so, that kind of thing never sticks in my mind.”
“The night of August 10, Memo lent his plates to someone. It isn’t entered here. Who did he give them to? Your little Goya Majo Nude here already admitted that Memo was in the habit of lending his plates if you paid him enough.”
The three of them stared at one another, glances caroming like billiard balls. It was Sergio’s shot; he laughed a short, nervous laugh. “That was a joke, man. Old Memo rents out everything, his license plates, his old lady’s ass, all of us know that…”
“What ‘all of us’?” Felix asked.
Sergio narrowed his eyes and scratched a nipple. “Look, are you from the cops, or what? All fuzz are bastards, but you’re the champ. I came here to get a piece, not to answer your fucking questions.”
“Fine,” said Felix, and walked to the door with the notebook under his arm. At the threshold he paused to say to Licha, “Too bad, beautiful. You’ll wake up some morning and find that cute little Bunny body’s been skewered, but not the way you like it, and not by the persons you like.”
Felix turned and left the room. Licha ran after him into the dark, dank hallway. She caught him by the sleeve and again threw her arms around him. From the bed, Sergio watched with amusement.
“Sweetheart, I know what you’re after, wait, please.”
“You’re reading my mind.”
“Wait. You want to know who killed that girl in the Gayosso Mortuary, don’t you?”
“I told you, you’re a regular fortuneteller.”
“Sweetie, I’m going to get him out of here, stay here with me, love me a little and I’ll help you find who killed her. I promise. How about it, come back in, put down the notebook, and we’ll make love, the way only you know how.”
“Your baby’s waiting, Lichita.”
“Don’t judge me, sweetie. Everyone has to scratch a little. The centavos don’t go very far … Come on. Give me the book. I swear it doesn’t have anything to do with what you’re looking for.”
“Then why do you want it?”
“I’m thinking of my poor old Memo, he’s such a good man. He’ll be ruined without his list of customers. Why be hard on him? What did he ever do to you? Come on, sweetheart, you don’t have to…”
Felix pushed her away. Her streaked face stretched into a grimace as she bared ratlike eyeteeth. She leaped at Felix, scratching and clawing; she didn’t care that her bathrobe fell open, revealing small, firm breasts, or that curses spewed from her twisted lips. “You bastard, what do you know about us? What the fuck do you know about anyone who has to work their ass off to keep from starving, you shiteater.”
Felix could hear the whistles of the balloon vendors in the plaza. Licha collapsed in his arms like a deflated balloon. Playfully, he tweaked her red nose. “There, there, Licha. After I get this business over with, I’ll come back and see you.”
“Honest, sweetheart? You swear it, honey? I’m so crazy about you.”
“What is it you want to know, Lichita?”
“You’re the one asking all the questions, not me.”
“Because you think you’ll find out how much I know by what questions I ask.”
“Why do you want poor Memo’s notebook? You yourself said there’s nothing in it…”
“Two heads are better than one, Lichita. Maybe I won’t understand what’s in this notebook, but the Director General will.”
“You’re not going to show it to him?”
“Of course. Those dark glasses will spot in a second why you’re so interested in recovering a notebook that doesn’t have any entry for the tenth of August.”