A Corpse for Cuamantla (10 page)

Chapter
23

H
alfway into Chapter Two of
The Shape Shifter
with Lt. Leaphorn examining the Navajo rug photo and reminiscing about Rainbow Man, Anna heard a gentle rapping at the front door. Knowing David wouldn't have returned this soon, she assumed Miguel must have skipped the fireworks display in Cuamantla. Her heart rate rose as she went to answer the door.

"Who is it?" she called through the crack between the doors wishing Art's house came equipped with a peephole. No answer.

"Who is it?" she said again. Hearing no response she hurried through the house and up to the roof where she could look down on the street. A glorious full moon lay low in the southeastern sky lighting the area around her house but she saw no one around. Whoever knocked on her door had disappeared. The crazies are out tonight, she thought, wondering if neighborhood children were playing games again. On weekends they sometimes knocked at her door only to run away when she answered.

Anna listened to the yapping of roof dogs from a cluster of small houses beyond her patio wondering if maybe a dog bumped against her front door, scratching its back on the rusty hinges. She stayed at the window surveying the neighborhood as the isolated barking ceased. The night turned still, punctuated now and again by the sound of distant fireworks. Fiesta activities had reduced traffic levels on the road in front of her house. In the distance, she could make out the dark outline of a couple and their burro moving in rhythm as they climbed the hill from the river, their shapes illuminated by the full moon. They were too far away to have knocked on her door. 

Anna puzzled over the incident, trying not to let her imagination run wild again. It's another of the mysteries of life in this village, she thought, listening for additional clues that never materialized. Searching the area one last time she returned downstairs.

At the foot of the stairs she paused to admire the pretty courtyard, too small for chickens. In one of her recent letters home she mentioned the possibility of raising chickens, amused to think of her mother's reaction. An avocado leaf from the tree guarding the staircase brushed her cheek in the breeze and she reached up to pick it, biting off a small piece to chew. The slight anise flavor reminded her of her favorite licorice candy, the kind her father used to buy for her on his way home from work.

A twinge of homesickness accompanied the warmth of the mild night air, less cool than usual once the sun set in these high plains. Maybe she would sit in the courtyard and enjoy the beautiful night, except that her book summoned and the courtyard light was too dim for reading. As a sort of compromise, Anna retrieved her book from the bed and carried it to the upstairs bedroom in order to enjoy the soothing night breezes. If anyone knocked at her front door, she could look out immediately and see who was there.  She thought about spending the night in the roof room, but decided sleeping downstairs might be safer.

Engrossed as she was in Joe Leaphorn's investigation of the fire in Totter's Trading Post, Anna nevertheless detected uneven footfalls echoing on the cobblestones beneath her window. She looked out to see Miguel leaning against the house, rapping on the metal front door.

"Oh Miguel, I'm so glad to see you."

"Maestra, let down your hair and I'll climb up to your window," Michael said with a broad grin that even the night's darkness couldn't disguise.

"Now I know you're drunk," Anna said, "but I'll let you in anyway. Try to remain standing. I'll be right down." She could hear him singing as she hurried across the roof and down the stairs. He nearly fell into her arms when she opened the door.

"You need some coffee. Follow me to the kitchen."

"Maestra, I'll follow you anywhere," he replied, tottering after her.

"Well, at least you're a cheerful drunk," she said over her shoulder, "and I may remind you of that promise in the morning." She wasn't sure how to deal with his flirtatiousness when they were alone. This Miguel was not the reserved school director who frequently used humor to keep people at arm's length. She pulled out a kitchen chair and motioned him to sit down while she went to the bathroom sink to fill the coffee pot. He was still standing when she returned, leaning against the doorpost scrutinizing her bedroom.

"I keep my coffee in the freezer," she said, attempting to redirect his attention from the bedroom to the kitchen. "I hope you won't be offended by my Costa Rican coffee. A friend of mine lives in San Jose and keeps me supplied."

"No, that's fine, Maestra," Miguel said, failing to rise to the defense of Mexican coffee beans. "I'm worried about your staying alone in this house tonight. If Pedro's killer remembers your DVDs he might think about coming here to retrieve them. I could take the disk home with me, of course, but that wouldn't protect you."

"No one in Cuamantla knows where I live except you and María. I don't know how the murderer could find me here." She gave him a questioning look. Miguel nodded, a thoughtful expression clouding his features. She wasn't sure what he was thinking and he didn't say. What she did know is that his mellow presence provided her with a sense of calm, which she desperately needed right now.

"Have a seat and drink your coffee," she said. "I want to talk to you about tomorrow."

Miguel sat down at the table and gave her a silly smile, "there are many tomorrows, Señorita, which one do you wish to discuss?"

Ignoring his tipsy behavior, she poured herself half a cup of coffee and leaned against the kitchen wall looking down at him. "The next one. The one we face in a few hours, but before we get to that, I want to know two things: what happened in Cuamantla after I left, and what are the officials doing to find Pedro's murderer before all the crime scene evidence is completely destroyed?"

"Slow down. One question at a time, Maestra." Miguel slurped the hot coffee and gestured her to sit. "As soon as you sit down, I'll fill you in."

An hour later, Anna knew little more than she knew before Miguel arrived, except for one detail. The officials from the various barrios were turning the investigation of Pedro's murder over to his kinsmen. Since Pedro was not a fulltime resident of Cuamantla, they reasoned, the matter was not their responsibility.

Anna fumed. "Doesn't it concern them that a murderer might be running around their village? I mean, doesn't that worry them just a little?" She was incredulous at the Cuamantla officials' decision. "How do they know who might be next? Have they thought about that?"

"I believe they think like this, Anna,"
Miguel said, the coffee having its effect. "Most people in Cuamantla are not caught up in the kind of activities in which Pedro sometimes involved himself. Therefore, the officials feel they have no reason to worry about the next victim. From their point of view, Pedro's murder is an isolated incident, maybe even justifiable homicide. Many people, including Pedro's wife, probably wanted to kill Pedro for one reason or another and finally someone did. Pedro simply got what was coming to him. That's how they think about it, whether or not their reasoning is justifiable or even based in the truth."

"I object to that line of reasoning, Miguel, and so should you. This is a civilized country with laws that protect people, and a legal system people are expected to follow. Nowhere in the law of this land, I'm sure, is death the penalty for adultery."

"Maestra, your analysis includes several erroneous assumptions. First, you assume Pedro was killed for adultery, which may or may not be the case. Second, you assume the reason for his death was not justifiable, which we don't yet know. And finally, you assume justice can't be served outside the formal laws of the secular state. With regard to the last point, let me clarify two issues."

Anna bit her tongue and waited for Miguel to continue, not failing to notice the sobering effect of her Costa Rican coffee.

"First, the government legal system is sometimes corrupt and fails to impart justice equally," he said, pointing out what to her was obvious, "and second, there exists a social and a religious realm in the rural villages that supersedes the secular state in the minds of the people because it is based on the laws of God. The state police agencies may preside over the cities, but the people govern the villages. In my experience, Anna, the village system is frequently more just."

Chapter
24

M
urder is murder, Miguel," Anna said, as Miguel sipped his coffee in amusement at her distress over the apparent laxities of village officials, "whether it happens in a village or it happens in the city."

She was determined not to let him off the hook about investigating Pedro's murder. "What about the village police?" She went on as though Miguel were unaware of their existence. "In my interview with the Municipal President he told me there are at least two policemen for every barrio. I've even met the village Comandante and the Subcomandante or whatever he's called, though I can't remember their names without checking my notes."

"You and your notes." Miguel chuckled, changing the subject.

She wasn't ready to be deterred. "What do they think of all this? Isn't it their duty to investigate when a crime is committed in their jurisdiction?"

"Correct, Anna. However, the village police do the bidding of the village council, the pipilitzin, unless there is outside pressure of some sort, which might happen in this case. Pedro had enemies but he also had powerful friends who might want to see his killer punished. If Pedro's relatives insist on justice, or someone persuades the officials in Tlaxcala to step in, then matters could change."

"Exactly, Miguel, and what about you? You're Pedro and María's friend. You're influential with the officials in Cuamantla and the officials in Tlaxcala. Can't you apply some pressure?"

"Maestra, please be patient and let me finish. I'm explaining to you the position of the village officials in Cuamantla, not my position, which I'll get to when we discuss the subject of tomorrow morning."

This seemed to be one of those times when Miguel was being, in her view, very Mexican. "We're planning to meet for breakfast tomorrow, view the DVD, and then what?" she asked, realizing how American she sounded.

"At that time, we'll visit with an acquaintance of mine, a member of the Tlaxcala State Police who just happens to head their murder investigation unit."

"Great. Thank you, Miguel. I'm so happy I could hug you."

"I‘d like that, Anna," he said, looking at her expectantly if still a little drunkenly.

She grinned at him and went on, "we're going to talk to the State Police and not the
federales
, right?"

"Yes. Murder is not a federal crime. AFI, the Federal Investigation Agency investigates federal crimes like narcotics, kidnapping, and the theft of historical and religious artifacts, not murder. Murder is a State offense."

"I see." Anna thought about the theft of the Real Cédula and wished she could share the matter with Miguel, but she'd made a promise to the Municipal President. In some ways, she was glad it wasn't a matter for the Tlaxcala State Police, because she wouldn't feel obliged to tell them about it in the morning. She wondered how far Art had gotten on the matter.

The thought of the stolen document renewed the question in her mind of whether the attack at María's car might be related to the missing Cédula, and the broader question of whether the theft or the mugging or both, were in any way related to Pedro's murder. She didn't see how they could be related, but she didn't want to take that chance. If she could make sense of the day's events, though, it might calm her nerves. 

"We'll hand over my DVD to the State Police and let them handle everything, correct?" she said. "I'll feel so much safer after that."

"Interesting, Maestra. You're one of the few people I know who feels safer engaging the police. I expect if you stay in Mexico much longer your opinion on that subject may change." Miguel gave her an ironic grin and held up his hand when she started to question him. "Let me clarify. I did not say we would engage the police
.
I said we would meet with one specific member of the State Police, Comandante José Cortez. He's a good friend of my cousin Felipe. They're compadres. I've met Cortez on several occasions, but I don't know him well. My cousin assures me he's a good man, a former priest, actually."

"Well, that's an interesting switch in professions. I hope he's an honest cop and not a corrupt priest."

"Not the only alternatives, I expect," Miguel said. He looked exhausted. "I'm tired, Maestra. Let's agree on where and when we'll meet for breakfast and what to do about keeping you safe tonight. My head is beginning to pound." Anna wondered if he might be hinting about staying the night. Well, he could sleep in the room on the roof if he wanted. The Portillos might not approve but on the other hand, they worried about her safety. Besides, he wouldn't be staying with her…exactly. The least she could do was offer.

"I'm sorry for keeping you so late, Miguel. I have an extra bedroom upstairs and you're welcome to stay the night if you wish."

"Gracias
,
Maestra. I'm not sure I can provide much protection so far away and sound asleep." 

Oh dear, she thought, what now?

"Rather, I want you to go next door and stay with your neighbors. I'll need a shower and a change of clothes in the morning. I can catch a taxi at the top of your hill and be home in my own bed in thirty minutes, and I can sleep on the way. Meanwhile, let's agree to meet in Tlaxcala at 8:30, at Los Portales. It's on the east side of the zócalo under the portals. Look for the bright blue chairs."

"I know the place, Miguel," Anna said, ignoring his advice about sleeping next door

"Bueno
.
I promise to be there on American time, but if for some reason I'm late, please start without me. Now, promise me you will sleep at your neighbor's so I can travel home in peace," Miguel said, rising from the table and stretching to leave. As if the matter were settled, he walked straight through her bedroom without a sideward glance.

The coffee worked its magic and Miguel was back to his old self. Anna wasn't sure if that made her happy or sad. At the front door, he turned to say goodnight. She stuck out her hand for their traditional goodbye handshake, but Miguel turned her hand over and raised it to his lips planting a gentle kiss on the inside of her palm. Still holding her hand, he leaned down and whispered into her ear, "
hasta mañana
, Anna."