A Corpse for Cuamantla (26 page)

Recipe for Rosa’s Tamales with Salsa Verde

Serves 8

This recipe is for the tamales Anna ordered for breakfast at Rosa’s kitchen in Cuamantla.

Ingredients:

4 lbs. Masa for tamales (Purchase at a Mexican grocery in your area.  Be sure to ask for masa that has been especially prepared for tamales, not the masa used for tortillas.)

1 C. chicken (or pork) stock

Pinch of salt

Pinch of baking soda

50 (or more) dried corn husks

50 pieces of string (or use thin corn husk strips—see below) for tying tamales

2 – 3 C. cooked chicken or pork (shredded)

10 – 12 tomatillos (husked)

1 clove garlic

2 serrano chiles, seeded

Cilantro to taste (or 1 Tbsp.)

Prepare Filling and Wrappers:

1.  Boil tomatillos and serranos until soft (about 10 minutes).  Reserve water.

2.  Place tomatillos, serranos, garlic, cilantro and salt in blender.  Add about one tablespoon reserved water and blend until smooth.

3.  To prepare meat, simmer chicken or pork until tender, then shred with two forks.

4.  Soak corn husks in hot water for five minutes. Peel a narrow strip off each husk for tying, or cut eight inch lengths of string.

Prepare Masa and Assemble Tamales:

1.  Mix masa, stock, salt and baking soda with your hands for five to ten minutes, lifting the dough periodically to add air.  Dough should be soft but firm.

2.  Place one generous tablespoon masa in upper middle of corn husk and press down with back of soup spoon to make an indentation for the filling.

3.  Add spoonful of green sauce, then spoonful of shredded chicken or pork.

4.  Roll the cornhusk lengthwise over the filling.  Fold up the bottom and tie closed at the top.  Alternatively, you can place filling in the middle and tie both ends.

5.  Line the bottom and sides of a large steamer with corn husks and stand the tamales upright in the pan.  Be sure the tamales are not touching the water in the bottom.

6.  Cover and steam tamales about one hour or until the masa is cooked thoroughly. Be sure water does not evaporate from the bottom of the pan or tamales will burn. To prevent burning, place a coin in the water. If the coin starts to rattle, add more water. In Cuamantla, women place a medal of the Virgin of Guadalupe in the pan to help ward off evil, and remember, women never cook tamales if they’re angry with their husband!

About the Author

Harol Marshall
has a PhD in cultural anthropology.
A Corpse for Cuamantla
is the first book in her Anna Merino series set in Tlaxcala, Mexico.  A sequel,
A Corpse for the Matadora
, will be available in e-book format in April, 2011. Read the first chapter below.

The first novel in Harol’s second series
Holy Death
, features Private Investigator Polly Isabel Berger, and is available on bookshelves and in e-format now. The sequel,
Holy Mole Murder
will be available on Kindle in May, 2011.

Ms. Marshall lives in Greensboro, North Carolina with her husband and four cats.  For more information, please visit her website at: 
http://www.harolmarshall.com
.

§

If you enjoyed this book, please support the author by posting a review on Amazo
n and recommending
A Corpse for Cuamantla
to your friends.

A CORPSE

FOR

THE MATADORA

By

Harol Marshall

Available in print and on Kindle

Please continue reading for a preview

And don’t miss Harol Marshall’s other

Mystery series featuring P.I. Polly Berger:

Holy Death

Holy Mole Murder

Holy Kow

And the Jefferson Zoo series featuring Curator of Horticulture Samantha Clark:

Adieu at the Zoo

Zoo Brew-ha-ha
(coming in 2014)

The First Friday in July

Chapter 1

T
he phone call about the murder arrived in the middle of the
Comandante
's third English lesson with American anthropologist Anna Merino. Commander Cortez, Head of Homicide Investigations for the Tlaxcala State Police reached across the conference table and picked up the handset.

"
Bueno
.
Sí
." A frown creased his forehead. "
Un momento
." Holding his hand over the receiver, he gave Anna an apologetic shrug. "Excuse me,
Maestra
, I need to take this call in the other room. I'll be right back."

"No problem, Commander," Anna said, wishing they could converse in English. His halting English during their weekly lessons was the only time she ever witnessed him ill at ease, lacking in his usual self-confidence. She crossed her fingers the phone message wouldn't call him out on a murder case since she'd worked hard planning today's lesson on English verbs. They'd barely moved beyond
to be
before his landline rang.

Besides, she’d been looking forward to their lunch together today, hoping it would provide a respite in what had been a tedious couple of weeks for her. The stress of prying into the personal lives of people drained her, despite the villagers' willingness to tolerate her endless questions with their usual grace. The weekly trips from her fieldwork site in the rural village of Cuamantla to the city of Tlaxcala provided a much-needed break in routine.

She glanced through the large expanse of glass on one wall of the headquarters conference room, which afforded a view of the Commander's private office. He was pacing the room, gesturing. Twice he stopped to jot a few notes. The longer he talked the more depressed she felt.
This isn't looking good for our lesson or for lunch
.

Cortez replaced the receiver and took a long breath before returning to the conference room. "I'm sorry, Maestra, but we'll have to cancel our lesson for today." He sounded as disappointed as she felt. "There's been a death at one of the hotels in the central plaza. According to the manager an American is involved, which means I might need some help translating. Would you mind accompanying me?"

"A death?"

"A homicide, I'm afraid. If you'd rather not I'll understand. I don't want to bring back bad memories, but I could use your language skills."

She checked her watch. Barely mid-morning and she was starving already. If she helped out maybe he could finish up by lunchtime. An alarm sounding inside her head interrupted her thoughts of lunch. Did she really want to get mixed up in another murder investigation like the one in which she first met Cortez? Images of the dangers she’d faced flashed through her mind. What a weird set of circumstances. The
Cinco de Mayo
fiesta in Cuamantla, which she’d wanted to capture on film; unfortunately, she also she also filmed a murderer, a video that nearly cost her her life. Not an experience she wished to re-live.

This case is totally different, nothing at all to do with me she told herself trying to ignore the warning bells in her brain.
The victim is a stranger and all I have to do is translate
. A calming thought if she could hang onto it. "Of course I'll help, Commander," she heard herself say as she tried to match his imperturbable demeanor, despite her initial moments of anxiety.

"Bueno. I need to check in with my men before I leave," Cortez said, holding open the door while Anna reached under the table to grab her backpack. Outside the conference room, she leaned against the wall as Cortez hurried down the long corridor adjusting the cuffs on his immaculate white shirt. He could have stepped from the pages of GQ, she thought, thanks to a tidy inheritance that supplemented his modest government salary. Leading cynics in the department carped that he could afford to be an honest cop.

Cortez ignored the gossip, but when the rumors reached Anna's ears she could barely control her outrage. "An easy excuse for their own misdeeds, if you ask me," she told her friend Miguel Menéndez, Director of Cuamantla's afternoon primary school.

"More likely, sour grapes," he replied, changing the subject. Cortez was a sore point between them, since Miguel insisted on mistaking the Commander's interest in English lessons for an interest in her. She and Miguel had worked together over the past nine months, some of which included assisting Cortez with the Cuamantla murder investigation. Their relationship had grown a little closer than Anna had intended in the weeks before Miguel left for Spain. The surprise of his summer study fellowship and his quick departure left their relationship in a state of limbo, adding to Anna's mixed feelings about her involvement with him.

She checked her watch again, noticing the frayed band
. Would Cortez ever wear a Timex?
And what was keeping him, anyway?
As the minutes ticked by, she continued to rationalize her decision to involve herself in another murder investigation. Observing Mexican law enforcement in action no doubt would benefit her research, provide her with a deeper understanding of Mexican culture. Rationalization enough, she decided. Besides, she was accompanying Cortez to a hotel in the middle of the city. What could be safer? she thought, as Cortez appeared around the corner, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his light suit jacket.

"Are we ready?"

"Ready," she replied, tossing her backpack over her shoulder and following Cortez as he held the outside door with his foot, his relaxed manner belying the nature of the task ahead. They might have been leaving on a date. A date with murder, Anna mused, as she and Cortez emerged from the dark hallway into Tlaxcala's dazzling sunshine.

Chapter
2

O
utside police headquarters the bright sunlight nearly blinded them both. Anna dug around in her bag for a pair of sunglasses wishing she'd splurged on a more fashionable pair when Cortez settled his Ray-Bans on the bridge of his nose.

"You may not realize this," he told her with a grin, "but you're the new heroine around police headquarters. My team was impressed with your contributions to the Cuamantla investigation. No one even thought to question when I said you would help out on this case."

Unwanted memories of helping Cortez capture a killer and break up an international smuggling ring flooded her brain. "I appreciate the compliment, but we both know it's not deserved. I only happened to be in the wrong place at the right time." She grinned at him. "I'm just lucky things turned out as well as they did."

"We both were lucky and there's no need for modesty. We solved the case together and you were a large part of that."

"I only hope today's case will be less harrowing." She sent a glance of uncertainty his way. "The Cuamantla murder was enough excitement to last me a lifetime."

"Nothing to worry about at all," he said, giving a
no sweat
shrug of the shoulder.

The Commander's confidence eased her misgivings and she vowed to rein in her overactive imagination; quit worrying about non-existent dangers. Maybe today signaled the start of another adventure together, which was a better way to think about it.

The clear sky and warm breezes lifted her spirits as they crossed the narrow courtyard between the gleaming white buildings of the Tlaxcala State Police headquarters. Orange and lemon trees dotted the tapered lawns, the bright morning sun intensifying their already fulgent colors. Breathing in the citrus-scented air, Anna wished she could reach up and pick one of the lush pieces of fruit. Instead, she turned her attention back to the murder, paralleling Cortez's languid strides across the parking lot.

They arrived at his sleek new black Honda, the one lacking police department markings. As he went around to the passenger side to open her door, she began to relax and asked about the case. "Did the hotel people provide any details?"

"Only the basics. The manager is excitable and I spent most of my time trying to calm him down. The murder victim is a local woman apparently strangled sometime in the night. The maid found her body this morning when she entered to clean the room."

Cortez held the door while she settled herself in the front seat. "How is the American involved?"

"That's as much as I know," he said, climbing into the driver’s side and adjusting the rearview mirror. As they pulled out of the parking lot and turned downhill for the ten-minute ride to Tlaxcala's
zócalo
, the city’s central square, he added,
"I've asked two of my men to join us at the hotel for the preliminary inquiries."

Anna hoped the American tourist wouldn't turn out to be a murderer. She had no interest in becoming involved in some international narcotics deal gone bad, even though Cortez insisted drug cartels had not yet invaded Tlaxcala. How does he know for sure, she thought?
Maybe this murder was the beginning of a cartel takeover. They're bound to infiltrate Tlaxcala some time.

Reaching the plaza, Cortez slowed the car and searched the area for a vacant space. "Parking seems to be at a premium this morning."

Anna pointed to a parking spot across from the Palace of Justice. "I see one over there."

Cortez swung into the empty space sandwiching his car between two pickup trucks loaded with market supplies. "Let's go for a stroll, Maestra," he said, opening her car door. He cocked his head to the west. "The
Posada de Tlaxcala
is a couple of blocks from here, but with the one-way streets we'll make better time walking."

"I never mind strolling through the zócalo," she told him, "I think it's the prettiest plaza in all of Mexico."
And the walk will calm my nerves.

"I'm afraid I take the local scenery for granted," he replied with a shrug. "One problem with familiarity, I guess."

"I can understand since you've grown up here, but it's different for me. Everything is new and exciting, which makes me love Tlaxcala. I'm amazed at all the historical sites that litter this beautiful little city."

Cortez chuckled. "Tlaxcala, city of historical litter. I've never thought of it that way."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Not at all. I enjoy seeing my country through your eyes. And you're right about our history. I expect you know our Convent is the oldest European building in North America?" Before she could answer, he stopped and pointed to the plaza's stone fountain off to their right. "And that fountain? Nearly three hundred years old and it works better than the plumbing in my bathroom."

Anna smiled at his good humor, beginning to breathe easier. She wondered if Cortez wanted to distract her from the grisly nature of their mission. If so, she appreciated his concern. She enjoyed spending time with him, but worried about what they'd face when they reached the hotel. "It's really too bad so many American tourists insist on beaches and fancy resorts and miss the essence of your country," she told him, happy to keep a light conversation going.

He glanced over at her. "I'm glad you're not one of them. Tlaxcala is truly a buried treasure."

"A secret Tlaxcallans like to keep to themselves?"

"We don't think of it that way, but I can see how someone might," he said. She detected a hint of melancholy in his voice.

The plaza's profusion of flowers glowed in the morning light. The scent of lilies and roses suffused the air and Anna inhaled their beauty. What a marvelous day, she thought.
Too nice for a murder.