A Corpse for Cuamantla (6 page)

Chapter
14

F
ortunately for Cuamantla, Father Aguilar had decided to allow his family to attend the fiesta while he tended to details in the Church. At the first sight of Pedro's corpse, the young priest performed the last rites, quickly averting his eyes from the gaping hole in Pedro's head. Despite the Holy Father's familiarity with death, violent death was a new experience. Once he completed the prescribed rituals, Father Aguilar turned his attention to preparing a place of rest for the body until family members from Pedro's village arrived to collect it. Afterward, he ducked back into the church sanctuary relieved for an excuse to retreat to a place where death was a mystical if no less gory experience.

Father Aguilar was acquainted with Pedro, though they were far from friends. The two men arrived in Cuamantla the same year, one to lead the church, the other the school. To the chagrin of Father Aguilar and the amusement of Pedro they shared a common bond. Both resided in the city of Tlaxcala living in sin with women who were not their wives. The two men kept their distance in Cuamantla despite community pressure on Father Aguilar to rein in the errant school director.

From what the priest knew about Pedro, the murder wasn't a surprise. At least there would be no question about suicide and the thorny theological issues associated with that possibility.
Something to be thankful for in every situation
, he mused.

Pedro's death wasn't the first murder in Cuamantla in the three years since Father Aguilar began serving the community. However, it was the first to occur on a day he was present in the village. Worse luck still, Carmencita and the children joined him today, excited to participate in the fiesta. The children would have more questions at dinner than he cared to answer.

The village of Cuamantla liked Father Aguilar and tolerated his not so celibate personal life, conspiring with him to maintain the fiction that Carmencita was his secretary. No one doubted the children were his, but since he and Carmencita raised them to call him
padre
rather than papá, no one worried about slips of the tongue. Father Aguilar and the community of Cuamantla were of one mind. He kept out of their business and they kept out of his, a pact that came in handy in matters pertaining to Pedro.

"There is little I can do," he would shrug when pressed by a villager to confront the school director about his illicit affairs, "I'm only one part-time priest. Better to take up the matter with the village officials. The village council has more power than I do in these matters."

Life in Cuamantla was pleasant and easy going, the main reason Father Aguilar requested the rural parishes where few priests cared to serve. Perform the necessary rituals once or twice a week and he was free to live his life, which included a part-time teaching position at the University of Tlaxcala. The extra money allowed him the luxury of sending his children to private school though Carmencita preferred they be educated in a parochial school. He vetoed that idea right away.

"Any and all indoctrination of our children will be done by us," he insisted, even though by us
he really meant himself. In any case, he was a loving and tolerant father and wished to raise well-educated open-minded children, which is why he preferred to guide their religious views rather than leave the matter to the Church.

Finishing his preparations, Father Aguilar wondered aloud whether town officials would waste much time trying to solve this murder since they still hadn't resolved the theft of a small oil painting from the church by his predecessor. The old priest, nearing retirement, allowed greed or the desire to live out his last days in comfort, to get the better of him. One day three years ago, the priest disappeared along with one of the church's colonial paintings. The people of Cuamantla promised to kill the old priest if they ever found him despite Father Aguilar's several homilies on the sixth commandment.

At some point, the village officials called in the Federal Agency of Investigation in Tlaxcala
,
who to this day had found no trace of the priest or the painting. Their most recent account reported him in South America and the painting in the hands of a U.S. collector. AFI agents believed the theft was part of an international smuggling ring specializing in Mexican antiquities. According to the AFI agents, the ring protected itself by employing several layers of people, which made the case difficult to solve. Recently, however, they claimed to be making progress and promised an arrest soon.

A noise in the back of the sanctuary caught the priest's attention. He turned to see the body bearers enter, deep in discussion over the merits of leaving the murder investigation in the hands of Pedro's kinsmen and the officials from his home village, rather than involving local officials and necessarily, the Tlaxcala State Police. The men hesitated to share their opinion with the priest for fear he would disapprove. The group's appointed spokesman stepped forward.

"The Cuamantla officials want to wash their hands of this whole mess," the spokesman said, on behalf of the town council. "In our opinion, the village of Cuamantla will do better forgetting about Pedro García and his fateful if inevitable end," he added, with a slight note of defiance as the men waited for the priest's reaction.

To everyone's great relief, Father Aguilar agreed.

Chapter 15

A
hushed silence spread over the schoolyard during Miguel's announcement of the death of Pedro. "With regard to the fiesta," Miguel explained, "the village officials
have asked that we not wait for their return but continue with the festivities, which we now hold in honor of our friend and colleague, Pedro García Hernandez-Barrera, deceased Director of the morning primary school. We honor the dead by remembering and respecting their lives and living our own lives with honor. Let the Cinco de Mayo
festival proceed. I now turn over the microphone to my friend and colleague, Maestra María Guadalupe Costanza, who will introduce the next event."

Anna focused her camera on Miguel as he handed the microphone to María. Dark glasses covered her reddened eyes. María returned to the microphone with her clipboard in hand, efficient and professional. Anna marveled at her composure. The woman must be made of steel. Miguel walked over to Anna and placed a casual arm around her waist in a way that made her heart to skip a beat. She had so many questions to ask him, starting with how this murder would be handled.
When would a serious investigation begin? Who was collecting and preserving evidence? Why didn't they seal off the murder scene? Time was running out. Whatever evidence might exist certainly would be compromised by the end of the day, and where was the village Comandante in all this?
Most likely, she realized, as another explosion rocked the area, he's with the pyrotechnics crew contributing to the surrealistic atmosphere of the day. Anna knew she was working herself into a snit as Miguel sat down beside her and fiddled with the sound equipment, but she felt justified.

"I need to talk to you," she whispered.

"I know," Miguel said, concentrating on the knobs and buttons in front of him, "you have many questions and I will answer them for you, but later, not now. Now, we must proceed as if nothing has happened, finish the fiesta as scheduled, attend the dinner at the house of the queen since her family members have spent many days and much money preparing for this event." He turned to face her, the stress of the day's events beginning to show on his face. "Tonight, after the festivities, I'll accompany you home and answer whatever questions you have. Life only stops for the dead," he said. "The living must go on living."

Anna objected. "Tonight will be too late." Her whispers increased in volume matching her anxiety levels. "The evidence will be destroyed. How will the police solve Pedro's murder if they don't cordon off the murder site now, take samples of footprints, ferret out whatever clues might exist? And what about the bullet or bullets? Have they even begun looking for them?"

"Not now, Maestra." Miguel responded with more sternness than she might have anticipated. "I promise you, everything will be okay. Trust me. What has to be done will be done in good time. Right now we must finish the fiesta. After that, we can concentrate on who killed Pedro. Please don't make things more difficult and I promise you will learn everything you want to know. You're in Mexico now, not the United States, please remember that. Our customs are different. When you're with us you need to follow the rules of our country, the rules of this village. I shouldn't have to remind you of that."

Miguel's voice remained at whisper level despite its gravity. Anna felt like an upbraided child and for the first time felt some hostility toward Miguel. He had no right to speak to her in that tone when her concern was legitimate. Even Pedro deserved justice, but more so, María and Yolanda. She glanced over at María, in awe of her calm complacency. Is everyone in rural Mexico socialized for martyrdom, she wondered? Culture or no culture, Miguel was not getting off the hook. Murder was murder after all. Cultural relativism extended only so far.

Mercifully, the program ended ahead of schedule. Anna packed up her equipment and headed over to the school office joining the teachers waiting for Miguel who was busy fending off a long line of parents and students. As she organized her gear and thought about her morning filming, a disturbing thought struck her. The miniDVD in her bag might contain a shot of the murderer entering or leaving the rose garden, the place where Pedro's body was found. If so, maybe her video could limit the number of suspects who might have killed Pedro, a realization that brought an unexpected wave of fear.

What if the murderer saw her filming him and at some point realized her video contained evidence against him? She filmed everywhere. No one could help but notice. She had to talk Miguel. They needed to contact the State Police as soon as possible. A murderer was loose and he might be after her.
If the theft of the Real Cédula is related to Pedro's murder, I might be in double jeopardy
. She picked up her cell phone to place another call to Art and saw a message.

"Annie, it's me." The stridency of Art's voice assaulted her ear. "I've got my airline tickets. I arrive in Tlaxcala tomorrow. If you need to contact me, better send an email." Just what she needed, the stress of a visit from Art. She agonized about her video evidence and Art's impending visit while she waited for Miguel, unsure which upset her more. After Miguel dismissed the last parent, Anna intercepted him on his way to the office.

"Miguel, please. I have something important to tell you."

He looked at her in amusement, reaching for her arms and backing her away from him as if she were one of his students. "You, too, Maestra? Everyone has a theory about who murdered our compadre. Come, tell me, what is yours?"

"I have no theory about the murder," she said, choosing to ignore his patronizing tone. "This is serious. Please listen to me."

"I'm listening, tell me. Seriously."

"First, I think we both may be in danger. I realized when I packed up my camcorder that I may have filmed the murderer this morning. If so, and if the same thought occurs to Pedro's killer, then he or she, I guess it could have been a she but I don't think so, may stop at nothing to confiscate my camera and DVDs. I'm very worried."

Miguel dropped his hands and stared at her.

"Two things." She went on, hurrying to make her points. "First, we need to find a way to keep the DVDs safe, and second, I'm wondering if tomorrow morning you can go with me to the police."

"Yes, but I think we should review the film first."

"We can look at it on my laptop, but I'd rather review it on a large screen, which we can do at the library. That way we can pick out individual faces in the crowd and look for incriminating information. What do you say? I mean, even if we can't actually pinpoint the murderer going into the rose garden, maybe other clues on the video might lead to his identity, or her identity, although I don't really believe it's a her."

"So you said, Anna, but I wouldn't be so sure."

Anna wondered whether he meant María, but if so, she wasn't biting. María didn't kill Pedro. Anna was as certain of that as she was certain of Miguel's innocence. She knew people. Not everyone with motive acts on it.

"Tomorrow morning isn't a good time," Miguel said. "I have to be in Pedro's village for the funeral ceremonies tomorrow afternoon. You're not required to attend unless you wish. Of course, this may be your only chance to attend a Mexican funeral, but whatever pleases you, Maestra."

"Oh dear." Anna groaned. "When are you leaving and how is everyone traveling? By bus or car?"

"I've already talked with some of the teachers and we're meeting here at eleven and driving in caravan in case someone has car trouble, and also, to discourage bandits."

"Bandits? Are you serious?"

"Very serious, Maestra. We'll be traveling through rugged terrain between here and Pedro's village. Some of those areas are notorious for drug runners. We'll be fine as long as we travel together. It's about a two-hour ride to the village of San Juan Zocatlo in the State of Vera Cruz. If you want to come along, I can stop by your house about 9:30 and travel with you on the morning bus to Apizaco."

"How about this instead? We meet at the library in Tlaxcala at 8:00, view the video then hire a taxi to get us here by eleven. I'll pay for the taxi and I'll buy breakfast as well. Surely, you won't turn down that offer."

Miguel looked thoughtful. "Yes, Maestra. I guess that would work, but I'm buying breakfast, and we'll share the taxi costs to Cuamantla. How's that?"

"Great." She tried to smile but she worried about her safety between now and the morning.

"I think your idea of viewing the video on a large screen is worthwhile," Miguel added. "We can meet at 8:30 at the Café Los Portales in the zócalo."

"Sounds good to me."

"I want to talk with you about a few other matters as well. However, let's join the teachers before they get the wrong idea." He winked and gently turned her shoulders propelling her in the direction of the school office. He's hardly disabusing them of the wrong idea, she thought, following alongside him. What were the other matters he mentioned? They sounded personal. She hoped he wasn't planning to withdraw his support for her research in Cuamantla. That would be a disaster for her at this stage. She needed to start a worry list, write down her concerns and check them off one at a time if and when they happened. Seeing her doubts and fears in writing might separate them from the imagination station in her brain and alleviate some of her stress.