“He’s not the first person I’ve killed, Marta.”
“What are you going to do?”
García went up to her. He had to step over the body to get to her. Marta looked up and straight into his eyes. García stretched out his hands and grabbed her shoulders. His hands were trembling. Marta moved toward him, without taking her eyes off his face.
“What are we going to do with him, Filiberto?”
He was slowly bringing his face up to hers. Marta kept staring into his eyes. She is really really hot! And my hands are trembling like a schoolboy’s.
He kissed her gently on the cheek.
“Go into the other room, Marta. Or into the kitchen. Make yourself a cup of coffee. There’s a bottle of cognac on the
counter. .”
“You want some? I can bring it to you, Filiberto. You could probably use some. . Or if you want some coffee, I can make it. .”
“Yes, please.”
Marta went into the kitchen. I’m even more of a chump than I thought. Who’d have guessed she’d get so affectionate with a dead body in the room? And here I am, acting like a goddamned gentleman.
He picked up the gun, put on the safety, and placed it in his holster. Then he uncovered the body and started to search through the pockets. A few bills, all Mexican. A pencil, with its point protector. Two keys on a nondescript keychain. The suit from El Palacio de Hierro, Made in Mexico. The shirt, too. Gotta see his shoes, but it’s not easy taking shoes off a dead body, they grip onto them with their toes. Fucking stiffs! Pachuca Shoes. Common. Seems this Pole is Mexican after all. And the people who sent him — stupid sons of bitches. Or maybe they thought I’d be the one to end up dead. But if he’d wanted to kill me, he’d have brought a gun, and he didn’t even have a fucking knife. Looks like he’s from the North, a poor slob. Maybe he was just a thief, but that’s one coincidence too many.
“Are you going to undress him?”
Marta was standing at the kitchen door, a jar of Nescafé in her hand. García quickly covered the body with the sheet.
“There’s only Nescafé, Filiberto.”
“That’s fine, Marta. I just wanted to know who he was and what he was doing here.”
“You take sugar?”
“Yes, please, Marta.”
Marta went back into the kitchen. García walked over to the telephone and dialed a number. It was answered almost instantaneously.
“García here, Mr. del Valle.”
“I’d rather you didn’t use my name.”
“As you wish.”
“Something important?”
“I started investigating, and I think there’s something to that rumor.”
“What happened?”
“I was just getting started, very discreetly, and a man started tailing me, then he attacked me. .”
“Did he try to kill you?”
“Don’t think so.”
“So. . I don’t understand why he attacked you.”
“Neither do I. But it’s strange and I wanted to let you know.”
“You did well. This does seem to indicate that the rumor is true. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe? The fact that you were attacked confirms it. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Have you started investigating the Chinese?”
“Yes.”
“Was your attacker Chinese?”
“No. Seems like he was one of us.”
“Okay. Keep me informed, García. I guess tomorrow you’ll meet the people we discussed.”
“Yes.”
“Good night.”
They both hung up at the same time. Fucking Rosendo del Valle! And all his goddamned secrecy. And now I’ve got to get rid of this stiff. Fucking stiff! The one in Juárez was a proper corpse. This one is just a fucking stiff. And I’ve got to get that knife out of his ribs. Can’t go losing a knife on every stiff. Better not let Marta see this. Sometimes the dead hold onto their knives. They get greedy. And I’ve taken a shine to that knife. Knows its trade all on its own by now.
He leaned over the corpse, turned it face up, and pulled:
“You want me to wash the knife, Filiberto?”
Marta was coming toward him with a cup of coffee in one hand and the bottle of cognac in the other.
“You saw what I was doing, Marta?”
“It had to be done.”
“Yes, it did.”
“I looked out the kitchen window, Filiberto, and that car that was following us, it’s parked in front. There’s a man inside, smoking.”
“The same one?”
“I think so.”
García took the coffee and sat down on the sofa. He put the cup down on the coffee table.
“A little cognac?”
“You aren’t having any, Marta?”
“My cup’s in the kitchen.”
“Bring it here, Marta, and pour yourself a little cognac, it’ll do you good.”
Marta went into the kitchen and returned with her cup. García poured her a little cognac. She’s going to sit down on the sofa next to me and then. . but that stiff is in the goddamned way.
Marta sat down in one of the armchairs. She looked up at García.
“What are we going to do?”
“You, nothing, Marta. You’re going to go into the other room.”
Marta took a sip of her coffee. She’s fine alright, but she sat down pretty far away from me. Maybe if I tell her to come sit next to me she will. Then I put my arm around her, like I’m comforting her, with no bad intentions. Just like a father. Fucking fathers!
“What are you thinking about, Filiberto?”
“Nothing.”
“You killed him in self-defense. There’s nothing the matter with that.”
“No, nothing the matter.”
“You are so brave, and now I know I wasn’t wrong. You are a good man and that’s why they like you. .”
“Who, Marta?”
“Everybody. . Santiago, Mr. Yuan, everybody. .”
“And you, Marta?”
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
They drank their coffee with cognac. Filiberto García delicately raised his pinky as he lifted the cup. Like a goddamned faggot. Pretending I’ve come courting, but with a stiff in the middle of the living room. More like a wake. But I never go to the wakes of my dead, of my faithful departed. Because the departed are always faithful to the one who sent them on their way. They always stick real close to me, and I’m always checking to make sure they’re still really dead, that they’re staying faithful to death. And here I sit, acting like an English lord.
“Don’t worry about it, Filiberto.”
“About what, Marta?”
“We both know it’s wrong to kill, but you did it out of necessity. That man forced you to kill him. I know you’ve never killed a man except when you had to, for your work. .”
“Yes, Marta.”
“I’ve seen a lot of killing, killings for no reason, because they could, without ever getting punished. Do you want another cognac? I’ll pour you some more.”
“Thank you, Marta.”
“Do you want me to heat up a little more coffee for you?”
“No, Marta, no thank you.”
“Your suit is covered in blood.”
“It is.”
“You should take it off and let me get the stains out.”
“Later, Marta.”
“We women are so foolish. I was afraid of you. I thought you were going to turn me in so they could deport me to Canton. Mr. Liu told me that if they found me, they would definitely deport me. That’s why I never left his shop and he always hid me whenever you came. .”
“Yes, Marta, that’s what fear does to us.”
“No, you couldn’t be bad. You said things that made me laugh and laughing is a good thing, isn’t it?”