When he finished, he looked at Duffy. He had never killed a man before. It was not pleasant. He couldn't tell Isabel about this, he thought. She would have him lighting candles for Duffy's soul for the rest of his life. He wondered what Captain Brannon would think. He decided she would not like it at all. One dead man at his feet, no leads on Lieutenant Kerney, and he was chained to a frigging bed with no way to get help. He could not risk discovery as an imposter. He worked on a story he could use with De Leon It took a long time before the two cooks ushered De Leon and Carlos to his cot. De Leon took in the scene without comment.
His face was harsh. Carlos, arms folded across his chest, adjusted his false teeth with his thumb and said nothing. The two cooks stayed back, out of De Leon range.
"Explain," De Leon finally said to Eddie.
"I cannot. I awoke to find Duffy kneeling at the side of my bed. He spoke in English. He was angry about something. He had a knife. He attacked me."
"You understood nothing?" Enrique queried. His eyes searched Eddie's face.
"He said your name several times," Eddie answered. "I think he blamed me for getting him in trouble with you."
"How did the attack take place?"
"He tried to cut my throat. I threw up my arm to ward off the blade. I could not move away because of the chain. He cut my arm." De Leon turned to the pudgy-faced cook.
"Was the hunchback chained?"
"Yes, patron. I only released Duffy from his bed, as I do every morning." De Leon nodded and returned his attention to Eddie.
"You killed him very neatly, jorobado."
"I did not know what I was doing. I am sorry, patron." De Leon gave him a skeptical look and pointed at the body.
"You are not listening. You gouge Duffy's eye, shatter his Adam's apple, break his neck. These are not the skills of a beggar."
"It was by accident, senor." Eddie whined. "Truly. I only fought to defend myself. I was much frightened. I could not escape him. My finger poked his eye as I tried to push him away. I think maybe my elbow hit him in the throat as we struggled. We fell. I was almost off the bed, lying against him as he tried to stab me again. His neck twisted under my weight. I heard the snap. He did not move, and then the old man came to see what had happened." De Leon returned his attention to the cook.
"Did you find Duffy where he now rests?" The old man looked at the body.
"Yes, patron. Exactly."
"Where did the butcher knife come from?" The old man blushed.
"He stole it from the kitchen. I was unobservant." He wrung the towel he clutched in shaky hands.
"Go back to work," De Leon ordered the cooks. The men scurried out of sight.
"Carlos, give me your opinion."
"It is possible. An awkward struggle, perhaps."
"You are not convinced?"
"The jorobado has strong arms and a thick chest. He fought for his life. Perhaps it gave him added power."
"Perhaps," De Leon reflected.
"Let me see the wound. Carlos, unbind it." Eddie raised his arm so
Carlos could untie the bloody towel. De Leon waited for Carlos to roll up the sleeve and wipe away some of the blood.
"It is a deep cut to the bone," Carlos reported.
"Duffy damaged him."
"Very well," De Leon said in a less caustic tone. "Call for the doctor to come and then remove Duffy's body." Carlos nodded, adjusted his upper plate, stepped over the corpse, and left to do his chore.
"Were you not wounded, I would have you replace Duffy in the kitchen," De Leon said, "to learn a lesson. As it is, you will stay chained to the bed until the doctor tells me whether or not you will require more extensive care."
"What will you do with me, Don Enrique?" De Leon sighed and prodded the body with the toe of his shoe.
"Duffy is no great loss. He was not going to be with us much longer anyway. I do not tolerate those who lie or steal from me. Duffy did both. Have you lied to me, Eduardo?"
"No, Don Enrique."
"Very well. I will accept your story for now and pay for your care."
"I will work for you tonight," Eddie proposed. He had to get unchained.
"I will work with one arm, if necessary, patron. I will repay your kindness with loyalty and labor." De Leon chuckled in amazement.
"Were you a whole man, Eduardo, I would have much better work for you to do. Your tenacity is strong. If the doctor agrees, you may work tonight."
"Thank you."
De Leon gave him one last searching look and left. The subservient expression on Eddie's face vanished. He was getting tired of kissing De Leon ass. The man was nothing but a gangster. More than ever, Eddie wanted to get back to the United States. Carlos dragged Duffy's body away, and the cooks brought clean bed linens. They moved Eddie to Duffy's cot, secured him with the leg iron, and changed the bloodstained sheets, muttering to each other about the loss of Duffy's help in the kitchen and the unfair burden it placed upon them. The doctor arrived promptly. He was a harried looking man about thirty who talked to himself during the examination.
Round-shouldered, wearing a rumpled suit, he had a narrow face, and his nostrils flared above a wide upper lip. He asked no questions about the knifing and deferred to Eddie's request to stay fully clothed. He cut the shirt sleeve away, studied the wound, and pronounced it nonlethal. He told Eddie he might lose some mobility in the arm if it wasn't quickly repaired. Eddie asked how long he could wait for the surgery.
"I would be reluctant to see you delay for more than two days," the doctor answered.
"It would be best to fix the damage now so that the scarring will be minimized."
"How long would it take?"
"One night in the hospital." Eddie could not risk going to the hospital.
"I have promised Don Enrique I will work tonight. It is a matter of honor that I do so."
"Carlos said you were a tough jorobado." He raised a finger and shook it under Eddie's nose.
"Do not use the arm. I will disinfect and tape the gash, bind it, and give you a painkiller. I will fashion a sling for you and tell Carlos to bring you to the hospital tomorrow morning." He opened his bag and began removing his medical supplies.
"Thank you."
"Do you fear the hospital?" the doctor asked, swabbing away the coagulated blood. So often, especially with the poor, it was hard to overcome a patient's apprehension of modern medicine.
"No. I wish to show the patron that I am trustworthy."
The doctor nodded his head. "That is an important quality if you wish to work for Senor De Leon. Prove yourself and he will reward you well." He worked quickly to close the gash.
"The wound is away from the arteries. You are lucky."
"So far," Eddie allowed, wincing.
Chapter 10
Armed with a list of low-grade snitches grudgingly provided by a customs agent who wasn't about to turn over his most valuable confidential informants to a cop he didn't know, Kerney got to work. El Paso filled barren hills stubbed up against the Rio Grande, and spread like a bloated octopus into the Chihuahuan desert north of Mexico. The city was hot, the traffic miserable, and the jumble of housing developments, barrios, and miles of strip malls depressing. Kerney found Cruz Abeyta in his pawnshop, a seedy establishment filled mostly with stolen televisions, stereos, power tools, and weapons. Abeyta wore a Grateful Dead T-shirt, and a bandanna around his head to hold back his long hair.