A Corpse for Cuamantla (22 page)

Chapter 56

M
aría's eyes filled with tears at the mention of Pedro's casket. She wiped at her cheeks and shook her head as if she were clearing her mind of memories of Pedro. "Yes, it's time," she repeated, "I'm ready."

María took Juan's arm and the three crossed the street to the church. María continued holding onto Juan as they entered the church, signaling to anyone who might be watching that her life would continue despite the loss of Pedro. Anna recognized a certain bravery in María's willingness to open herself to even more criticism in a culture that rewarded social conformity above all, in order to maintain control over her own life.

Two greeters stood inside the door handing out mimeographed sheets detailing the order of service for a generic funeral mass. Juan picked up three hymnals handing one to each of them.  Anna gazed in awe at the magnificent sanctuary modeled after a French cathedral, with its soaring ceilings and magnificent stained glass windows. Colonial era paintings of saints and angels covered the walls. Colossal wrought iron chandeliers suspended from massive ceiling beams illuminated the dark interior. Anna decided not to sit underneath one. If an earthquake occurred, the release of any one of the massive spiked objects would ensure instantaneous death.

Anna whispered her seating preferences to Juan and continued to digest the interior of the church as she followed Juan and María to their seats. The left wall of the Church bore a large triptich of the Virgin Mary cradling the lifeless body of Christ on her lap. Hundreds of candles burned on tables stretched beneath the tri-part canvas. Gold-leaf inlays blanketed every available cornice and molding. An intricately carved doorway behind the altar presumably led to a Lady Chapel reserved for the Virgin, although Anna never understood how the Virgin put those chapels to use. Such an elaborate church for so poor a town caused Anna to wonder about the conscience of Church authorities who spent the Church's money on religious luxuries when abject poverty abounded. Incompatible as her thoughts might be in this holy place, she wished them a special place in hell.

Unmuffled sobs and occasional wailing rose above the pervasive conversational din. In front of the altar lay the coffin with its lid propped open and the body of Pedro plainly in view. María suggested they sit in the back and Juan selected a carved wooden pew away from any overhead chandeliers. Anna entered the pew first, followed by María, leaving the aisle seat for Juan to stretch his legs if the mass ran too long. Anna spotted the back of Miguel's head at the end of the front row on the opposite side of the church. As though he felt her presence, he casually turned and surveyed the congregation until he caught sight of them. He acknowledged their presence with a slight nod and a grim tight-lipped smile. She wondered if he was watching for them all along or just happened to turn around.

"Miguel spotted you," María whispered. "Do you see him down there? He's near the end of the first row on the opposite side."

"Yes, I recognize the back of his head," Anna said as though she only now noticed.

The organ struck a loud chord and the priest entered attired in white vestments and a purple cowl. The congregation stood as he methodically climbed the steps of the chancel accompanied by resounding organ music from the rear of the church. Anna turned to see a huge pipe organ occupying most of the upper balcony. A young boy stood nearby working a set of capacious bellows while the organist played an enthusiastic rendering of a funeral hymn. Anna recognized the system from the one in Cuamantla, a European organ manufactured in the late 1700's. By the time the priest reached his place behind the communion table, the wailing ceased and the crowd waited expectantly.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," the priest intoned.

"Amen," the crowd rejoined.

"The Grace and Peace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all."

"And also with you," the congregation responded, and so began Pedro's funeral mass. Periodically, congregants kneeled on the hard stone floor since the church for all its glory lacked even basic wooden kneelers, let alone the padded variety. Halfway through the mass in the middle of one of the kneeling episodes, Anna opened her eyes to find a man kneeling beside her. Sitting back in the pew, she turned to see whether she knew him.

"¿Bueno, Maestra, como estás?" whispered Commander Cortez.

Oh, Lord, she thought, not really meaning to pray even though a prayer might be useful.
What was he doing here?
"Fine thanks, Comandante," she whispered, unsure what more to add.

He placed a finger to his lips indicating they would talk later. 

As the organ sounded, the Commander opened his hymnbook and flipped through the pages. Anna showed him the correct page as she joined most of the congregation in not singing. However, Cortez sang out, barely glancing at the words on the page. Nice voice, Anna noted, listening to what amounted to a solo performance in their section of pews. Anna thought about her walk in the park and slowly reached down for her backpack, lifting it into her lap to display the slit up its side. Cortez looked surprised but continued singing.

The service pressed forward, interminably it seemed to Anna. The priest doxologized and the people stood, sat, kneeled, sometimes sang and uttered rote responses whenever the priest, like some mechanized orchestra leader, brandished the appropriate hand signal. At some point, the tenor of the mass shifted. The priest explained the time had come for the congregation to pay their last respects to Pedro.

"Please come forward in an orderly fashion row by row beginning with the first row and following around to the congregation's right. Once you pay your respects, return to your pews because the mass has not ended," he instructed.

Nearly half the crowd walked to the front to view the body. The remainder, including Anna's pew, stayed put, most with heads bowed.

"I want to remember him in life," María whispered, "not in death."

Anna nodded her agreement and they sat watching the somber procession, led by Yolanda and her son, each of whom placed a single rose across Pedro's chest. María's rose lay wilted in her lap. Pedro's parents followed behind their grandson, Pedro's mother leaning over to kiss his forehead, as did several other women whom Anna presumed to be relatives. Pedro's wife wasn't among those kissing the corpse. For María's sake, Anna appreciated Yolanda's decision, whatever her motivation.

Once the last person in line passed the coffin, the priest ended the mass by requesting mourners never to forget their loved one, friend, and colleague.

"Remember," he exhorted, "we all die three times. We have witnessed the first death of Maestro Pedro García Hernandez-Barrera, the one in which his body ceased functioning. Shortly, we will bear witness to the second death when we consign his body to the grave. I urge you to keep his memory alive in your hearts and your conversation in order to postpone the third and final death, the one in which his name is spoken for the last time
."

Given the problems Pedro caused in his lifetime, Anna suspected his third death might not be a long time coming.

Chapter 57

M
iguel led the seven pallbearers to the casket and closed the lid. Lifting the coffin onto their shoulders the men followed the priest up the aisle to the back of the church, Miguel on the right. He would have a clear view of the Commander seated beside her. Anna's stomach knotted up. She wished she could disappear, or rather, wished the Commander would disappear.

Halfway up the aisle, Miguel caught sight of her and the two locked eyes until the casket reached her pew when she saw him glance over and nod to Cortez, a noticeable look of dismay on his face. She wondered if either Juan or María noticed, a contemplation that quickly ended when organ chords gave way to the music of the waiting Mariachis, signaling the start of the burial procession.

Anna followed Juan and María out of the church with Commander Cortez at her elbow. Anna introduced Cortez to María, who acknowledged they once met in Tlaxcala. Juan appeared surprised as he shook hands with the Commander. Cortez explained he had known Pedro for some time, intentionally leaving the impression he arrived to attend the funeral of an acquaintance. María knew otherwise and no doubt so did Juan, but neither questioned Cortez. Instead, Juan announced he and María would not be joining the parade to the cemetery.

"Do you mind?" María asked a surprised Anna. "Now that the Commander is here, we won't worry about your safety, but please join us, both of you, if you wish."

Cortez raised an eyebrow at the mention of her safety. "Has something happened of which I should be aware?" he asked, directing his question to Anna.

"No, of course not, Commander," Juan replied. "However, we've worried about the Maestra due to the break-in at her house last night. We all wonder if the matter might be connected to the murder of our colleague. If so, then we presumed the Maestra may still be in danger and have been keeping a watch over her. We're happy to turn her over to your safekeeping. Although, please join us if you'd rather sightsee than attend the burial."

"Yes, Anna, please come with us," María added.

Cortez interrupted, "let me make your decision easier, Maestra. Part of my reason for traveling to Zocatlo today was to speak with you about the matter at your house last night. I prefer not to put off our conversation until the morning, if that's agreeable."

"Yes, fine, Commander," Anna said, numbed by the speed of events swirling around her.  "The two of you, please go ahead. I'll see you back at the hotel later. I'll be fine and I do want to attend the funeral procession. Perhaps you should give me the key to our room Maestra?"

"Certainly. Juan has the other key, so Miguel can't get into his room without you. Don't lose track of him, Maestra."

Protecting Miguel's interests, Anna thought as she worried about why Cortez had traveled to Zocatlo. If only she could talk with Miguel, but his role of parade leader
kept him busy organizing the procession to the cemetery. Worse, he needed to walk at the head of the procession with Yolanda, her son, and Pedro's parents, so Anna wasn't free to join him. She considered returning to the room, especially since her bad ankle slowed her progress and might be aggravated by the quarter mile walk to the cemetary. Dusk was settling in. The return walk after dark made her nervous and she wasn't certain whether the Commander planned to leave Zocatlo after their conversation. Maybe Miguel would accompany her on the walk back, but he never told her his plans or whether other responsibilities awaited him following the burial.

"Maestra
?"
Cortez turned away from his conversation with one of the mourners, presumably an acquaintance from Tlaxcala.

"Yes, Commander."

"Perhaps we can talk on our walk to the cemetery?" Cortez politely turned his statement into a question as though she had a choice in the matter.

"Certainly, Commander. I don't know if I can tell you much more than you know already. I thought the matter of Pedro's murder would be settled with the arrest of Francisco and his friends."

"That's part of what I want to discuss with you," he said, halting their progress at the top of the steps where they watched Miguel signal the start of the march.

"Should I assume, Commander, your arrival in Zocatlo means you haven't caught Pedro's murderer and believe he may be here and therefore, I'm still in danger?"

"That would be a correct assumption, Maestra."

"I'm confused. I thought you believed Francisco and his friends murdered Pedro," Anna said, not particularly surprised at this turn of events. "You didn't arrest Francisco, then?"

"The arrest didn't proceed as I expected it might, Maestra. I believe Miguel may be right about those boys. They were up to no good, but probably didn't murder Pedro. Before I continue, Maestra, you showed me a slit in your backpack. What happened?"

"I was," she hesitated, embarrassed about the incident, "I was robbed, Commander. It happened in the zócalo right across from the church. A group of people took my wallet and the DVD. I don't know if they were after my money or the video."

"Were you hurt?"

"No, someone bumped into me and the rest came over to help, or so I assumed."

"Hmmm. How many?"

"A group of five or six, maybe seven, I'm not really sure. It's my own fault. My neighbor warned me about carrying my pack on my back, instead of in front of me. My driver's license and credit cards are back in the house in Belén, so I only lost a cheap wallet and a few pesos. I can't really remember how many people were in the group because it all happened so quickly and then they disappeared."

"Melted into the crowd, right?"

"Correct, Commander."

"South American gypsies. That's how they operate. They travel to our country to prey on the tourists and old people. Your American looks made you a target, I'm afraid."

"You don't think they were after my video?"

"No, Maestra, I believe they wanted your money and took the DVD because it was there, perhaps hoping it contained a recent movie. The police will never recover either, which is why these thieving bands get away with so much. They steal small amounts and most people won't bother to waste time filling out the paperwork in order to file a complaint. Even if they did, the gypsies would be in another town before the police could begin looking for them. They are a blight on our landscape and I wish we knew how to stop them. Educating people seems to be our best strategy at the moment," he said, sounding a note of dismay at his own helplessness in the matter.