A Corpse for Cuamantla (16 page)

Chapter
41

C
ortez peered into his rearview mirror and smiled to himself at the image of Anna standing by the side of the road watching his car drive away. Never hurts to leave them wondering, he thought, as he drove slowly in search of a local tienda.

On a more sobering note, he worried about her and hoped she wasn't in danger traveling to Zocatlo. In all likelihood, Francisco Sánchez and his friends murdered Pedro, but at this stage in the investigation that conclusion was far from certain. Anyone on Anna's video might have killed Pedro, nearly all of whom would be in Zocatlo for the funeral, in proximity to Anna. If the killer turned out to be someone other than Francisco or his friends, and if that person believed Anna possessed incriminating evidence, then her life could be in jeopardy. Cortez trusted Miguel to watch out for her, but a sense of unease nagged at him despite his initial determination about who killed Pedro García.

Shaking off his worries, Cortez pulled into one of the town's grimier stores, the one housing Cuamantla's telephone station since he was finding no reception on his cell phone. He placed a call back to his office. The news helped ease his concerns about Anna. Pedro's credit card report showed someone used it the previous night in Mexico City, at a restaurant and three bars. The District police were in contact with the Tlaxcala authorities and promised to work on the matter. Relieved that Anna appeared to be out of danger, and reassured he correctly identified Pedro García's murderers, José Cortez asked the store clerk about the family of Francisco Sánchez.             

"Do you know the Arnulfo Sánchez family?" he asked the elderly woman, showing her his credentials.

"Sí, Comandante," she replied, openly pleased to help the handsome policeman.

"Were you acquainted with the unfortunate School Director who died yesterday?"

"Sí, Comandante." She smiled, showing a mouth empty of most of its teeth. Cortez wondered how the poor woman could eat, though her skinny frame held a clue to the answer.

"Are you aware of any relationship between the Sánchez family and the School Director?"

"Sí, Comandante."

"Please tell me about that relationship," he asked, offering her no opportunity for a yes or no response.

"Sí, Comandante
,"
she answered, a response that tried the Commander's famous patience. In greater detail than he expected, she went on to tell him of the feud between Francisco's family and the primary school Director. The problem, she noted with a sly smile, was the Director's illicit affair with Francisco's sister, the one who now lived in Mexico City with her husband and baby. The old woman was a veritable gold mine of information, interjecting details Cortez might have forgotten to ask, including directions to Francisco's house.              

So there it was—opportunity and motive. Malinche had smiled on him today. Life was good, and good to Anna whether she knew it or not. Yes, José Cortez would sleep easier tonight knowing that while the Maestra traveled to San Juan Zocatlo to attend Pedro's funeral, Pedro's murderer would be asleep, safely locked up in the Tlaxcala jail. All of his cases should solve themselves so easily, he thought, climbing back in his car for the short ride to the Sánchez home. Perhaps when he concluded this case, he might start thinking about a normal life, one that included a wife and family. He was reaching that stage where he wanted one woman in his life, someone who mattered to him as much as his mother mattered to his father.

These were recent thoughts for Commander Cortez and he wondered what precipitated them. Ever since he left the priesthood, José felt his life was in disarray, and women were only one of his problems. He was restless, needing new experiences, excitement, hardly a fitting personality for a priest, though it explained the reasons he left the priesthood despite the heartbreak it brought his mother. Fortunately, his younger brother Manuel stepped up to the plate, entering the priesthood within a year of José's resignation.

Happily for José and José's mother, the priesthood suited his brother who still served his three parishes all within a short bus ride of their boyhood home. José's parents and two other brothers maintained the family lands, which included one of Tlaxcala's famous
ganaderías
, ranches that raised fighting bulls for the rings of Mexico. Cortez credited his years growing up around the bullring with his love of excitement. The life of a State Police investigator suited his temperament, and at the same time allowed him the chance to help people, the only part of his nature that responded well to the priestly calling.

Chapter
42

C
ommander Cortez arrived at the Sanchez residence, one of the better-kept houses in the village. Francisco's mother greeted him at the door, a nervous woman who invited him into the front room and promptly left to fetch her husband and Francisco from the fields. Cortez paced the sparsely furnished room. He hoped this business wouldn't get sticky and debated whether or not he should call after the woman and interview her alone first. Before he could implement his decision, Francisco's younger sister appeared and announced her mother would return shortly.

"The Municipal President may be with them as well," she volunteered, glancing shyly at the handsome Commander.

Cortez smiled back, acknowledging the warning. So, he thought, the situation would be a thorny one.  At least he was forewarned. Securing Francisco in the Tlaxcala jail probably wouldn't happen today. He'd be lucky to arrive back in Tlaxcala in time for a decent afternoon meal. While he waited, he and Francisco's sister passed the time with idle chit-chat discussing everything but what occupied them both, the upcoming fate of her brother.

After nearly twenty minutes, Francisco's mother returned having commandeered half the town. She nervously invited the Commander outside where Francisco, his father, the Municipal President and another barrio
official waited, along with several friends and relatives busy assembling folding chairs in the courtyard.

Arnulfo Sánchez introduced himself first, shaking hands with José. Next, the Municipal President welcomed him to the village of Cuamantla. Cortez shook hands around the courtyard thanking everyone for attending. Francisco, his father and the older men seated themselves around the large rectangular table. Francisco's mother Antonia joined them, while the rest of the women and younger men sat in the outer circle of chairs. Cortez settled in, reminding himself that in situations like this his experience and training in the priesthood always proved beneficial.

"Is it true, Commander," Arnulfo asked before Cortez could begin, "that you are here to place my son Francisco Matos Sánchez, under arrest for the murder of the much despised Director of the morning school, a man more worthless than a roof dog and a wrecker of families?"

"I'm here Señor, for the purpose of questioning your son Francisco," Cortez replied courteously, allowing Arnulfo the upper hand for the moment, "about a matter that occurred yesterday morning at the primary school." Cortez knew Arnulfo would lose face soon enough and he wished to soften the blow. His murder investigation would remain in the hands of the State Police independent of the wishes of the Cuamantla village officials.

Arnulfo was not to be diverted. "You wish to question my son about the much deserved killing of Pedro García, is that correct?"

"That is correct, Señor."

At this response, questioning passed to the Municipal President. "Bueno, and may I ask the esteemed Commander, why the State Police are in Cuamantla interfering in local affairs?"

This Municipal President came to the point more quickly than usual. Cortez bristled at the man's accusatory tone.
One would almost conclude I'm the culprit here
. I'll need to be patient, he reminded himself.

Chapter
43

O
ver the next hour, Cortez fielded their questions with the deftness of a skilled surgeon, knowing his turn would come eventually. Finally, when no successful arguments remained, he responded with undeserved kindness considering what the villagers had put him through. The family was upset and a wise decision on his part would be to maintain calm before completing the business at hand. He turned first to the Municipal President.

"I'm sorry you weren't informed earlier of the involvement of the State officials, but events have moved quickly. I wish I could share with you the reason the investigation has fallen into our hands, but I'm not at liberty to divulge that information. Please be assured that I come on good authority. We don't wish to usurp your authority or interfere in village affairs, but only to assist you in apprehending the murderer of your village's school director."

Arnulfo interrupted, but Cortez signaled he had more to say and continued. "I also want you to know that we have incontrovertible evidence of Francisco's presence at the scene of the crime. I know it's not proof of his guilt, but at the very least he is a witness and may be able to provide us with information about the guilty party. Therefore, it's imperative he accompany me to Tlaxcala for questioning." Cortez paused to collect his thoughts before turning to Francisco. "Son, for your sake and the sake of your family I recommend you cooperate with my investigation."

Arnulfo broke in before his son could speak. "Commander, let me assure you that my son Francisco is not a murderer. He did not kill the pig of a director. But even if he had, I would defend his innocence. The bastard deserved to die, he was a blight on our village."

"I understand how you feel and I also know why you feel as you do," Cortez continued quietly, "but the law is not a respecter of persons, and the citizens of our country are not free to take the law into their own hands. The dispensation of justice is the business of the government on behalf of all of its citizens, not the prerogative of individuals acting alone."

"To beg your pardon, Comandante, that is precisely the point we are trying to make to you," the Municipal President said.  "In Cuamantla, we are the government, elected and appointed to serve the people of Cuamantla, and to dispense justice on behalf of the citizens of our
municipio
, which is what we are asking you to allow us to do."

Apparently, this President wasn't giving up without a fight.
José's patience was his finest virtue in these situations and he extended it in full measure to the Municipal President. "The consequences of the crime in question go beyond your village, and in such instances as we're all aware, the interests of the State take precedence, which grants me jurisdiction.  All I ask is that you allow the government its due. Permit me, please, to question Francisco at police headquarters in Tlaxcala. In return, I promise he will be treated fairly. You have my personal word on that. Furthermore, I'm willing that a village official or someone Francisco trusts, accompany him throughout the interrogation period so you can be assured no harm will come to him."

Perhaps emboldened by this last concession on the Commander's part, Arnulfo pushed one step further. He would agree to Francisco leaving with the Commander, he said, provided both he and a village official be allowed to accompany Francisco to Tlaxcala and remain with him until he was released.

Relieved that closure seemed near, José agreed, and Francisco, Arnulfo, and the Municipal President rose to leave. Antonia, who had nodded her agreement or disagreement as the previous discussion warranted, now sobbed in earnest clutching onto her son's shirtsleeves as he tried to follow his father. Arnulfo intervened, charging his daughter with the care of her mother until he and Francisco returned home.

Chapter
44

T
he drive from Cuamantla to Tlaxcala passed uneventfully. The Commander's passengers, led by Arnulfo, were awed by his new car with its fancy global positioning system, and spent most of the ride asking technical and personal questions about the vehicle including its price. Some questions Cortez answered, others he politely evaded, a technique he evidently polished to perfection during his stint in the priesthood, Arnulfo decided.

"How much does a car like this cost?" Arnulfo asked.

"All depends on how many extras you tack on to the basic vehicle," Cortez responded.

"And if the car has all the extras of this car, what would the cost run?"

"Depends where you buy it and what you make and model of car you bring to the trade," the Commander replied.

And so the conversation went. Whatever the Commander paid, Arnulfo thought, the sum was astronomical, a fact he mulled over in his mind. Perhaps, he decided, he would encourage Francisco to think about a career in the State Police. And perhaps he, Arnulfo, could turn this misfortune into an opportunity, ingratiate himself with the Commander so the good Commander might be encouraged to take Francisco under his wing and assist him in obtaining a position with the police. It was just an idea, he thought, but a good one.

Arnulfo congratulated himself that he was not to be found lacking when it came to good ideas. Implementing them was another story Antonia would say, but not to worry, he would find a way this time. Francisco was a good boy, smart and likeable. He was no murderer or friend of murderers of that his father was certain. Once the Commander understood Francisco's innocence, he would feel sorry for him, sorry he put an innocent boy through such humiliation. The Commander had a kind heart. Arnulfo realized that early on in the day's discussions. He would play on this Commander's heartstrings for all they were worth. Such a nice car. Francisco would look good driving such a car. His mother would be proud, even prouder if Arnulfo himself could make such a thing happen.

Lost in his private daydream, Arnulfo nearly forgot the reason they were driving to Tlaxcala until Commander Cortez turned into the parking lot behind the State Police station. Pulling into the same parking space he left earlier that morning, Cortez shut off the engine and reached for the door handle. Emerging from his very nice car, he requested his passengers follow him through the forbidding black door at the back entrance to police headquarters. Arnulfo obeyed, stroking the car's smooth finish as he carefully closed the passenger side door.