A Game for the Living (22 page)

“You have his address?”

“Yes. It's in Tacubaya. Just a minute.” He turned with his foot on the stairs. “But is it necessary to bother him, Señor Capitán?”

“It's about the muffler,” Sauzas said. “We've got to find who the muffler belongs to. And I expect to have the muffler in less than twenty-four hours. As soon as we find Infante.”

Theodore climbed his stairs and got his address book from his suitcase pocket.

“You should have mentioned him to me before,” Sauzas said reproachfully, when Theodore showed him Eduardo's address.

Theodore started to say something in his own defence, then realized that Sauzas would remind him that the quietest people were sometimes criminals.

“The danger,” Sauzas said as he copied the address, “is that Infante is already blackmailing someone with the muffler. He may have found the owner in the month he's been looking for him, and it may be someone not on our lists.”

“But he took Ramón's address book only yesterday,” Theodore said. “Perhaps he's still looking for people to question about the muffler.”

Sauzas began gathering up his photographs.

“Señor Capitán, I should like to talk to Infante as soon as you find him,” Ramón said. “Would that be possible?”

“I should
like
you to talk to him,” Sauzas said politely to Ramón, and smiled. “Now I must be going.”

Theodore asked Sauzas if he could have Infante's picture, and Sauzas graciously presented it to him and said he was going to have hundreds more printed.

“Thank you, Inocenza,” Sauzas said as she came forward with his coat.

“And where are you going to be tomorrow, Señor Capitán?” Theodore asked.

Sauzas said he was going to be right in the city, told Theodore his office hours for tomorrow, and promised to notify him as soon as there was anything to report.

“At any hour,” Ramón added. “I would like to see Infante as soon as you find him.”

“It will be done, Don Ramón,” Sauzas said.

Theodore saw him to the gates, and though they spoke only of the fine night it was, Theodore could feel that Sauzas's hopes had been lifted like his own.

“Ready to turn in, Ramón?” Theodore asked as he came back into the living-room.

Ramón looked up from the photograph of the boy, and tossed it on the sofa. “No, Teo, I think I'll go out for a walk.”

“Will you be gone long? It's eleven.”

“Not long, Teo,” Ramón said with an attempt at a smile. “No, no coat.” He opened the door for himself and went out.

Inocenza lingered in the living-room as Theodore drank his coffee. “Señor, may I ask if the Señor Ramón—You have asked me not to speak to him about the Señorita Lelia, señor,” she said respectfully.

Theodore took a breath. “He still does not want to believe anyone else but himself is guilty, Inocenza. But I am sure he will change. Very soon now. As soon as we find the young man with the muffler.”

“Oh, yes, the muffler,” Inocenza said with a confident smile.

“And who owns it,” he added and had a moment of depression. Why should he think the muffler had been found by the fellow on the scene of the crime? The paper bag under his arm might have contained nothing but erotic postcards. The boy might never have entered Lelia's apartment in his life! Theodore climbed the stairs to work for a while on his cover illustration for
The Straightforward Lie
. He would work until Ramón came home, whatever hour that might be, because he was not sure that Ramón had taken his keys with him.

Theodore had been drawing in his studio less than an hour when he decided to take his bath and continue his work in his dressing-gown. As he emptied the pockets of his suit, he found his address book. He opened it and went to the telephone.

Eduardo Parral lived in a
pension
. A maid answered, and there was a long wait while she went to see if he was in. Then a young male voice said:

“
Bueno?
”

“
Bueno,
Eduardo. Teodoro Schiebelhut. How are you?”

Eduardo sounded glad to hear his voice, asked how he was and if he had heard any news, by which he clearly meant news about the investigation.

“Well, some. We do not know how important it is yet. My reason for calling you at this hour is to tell you that the investigator, the Capitán Sauzas, will probably ask you some questions tomorrow. I hope it won't disturb you, Eduardo.”

“Of course, it will not, Don Teodoro!” Eduardo said in a friendly tone. “I'll be out in the afternoon, but here in the morning.”

“Good. I think it's better if I leave it to Capitán Sauzas to tell you what it's about.”

“Yes. Naturally,” Eduardo said politely.

Theodore squeezed the telephone. “You've had no strange telephone calls or such things, Eduardo?”

“No-o.” He laughed in his shy way. “Unless I count one today. A man telephoned me and asked if I had lost a muffler. In a threatening tone, too. He wouldn't say his name. He told me to think twice if I hadn't lost one, because it was my last chance. My very last!” He laughed again.

“At what time did he ring up?” Theodore asked.

“A couple of hours ago. Just after eight o'clock, in the middle of supper.”

“Did it sound like a long-distance call?”

“No-o. Sounded like a local call. Why?”

“Oh—” Theodore wiped his damp forehead. “The Capitán will tell you, Eduardo. I must not say anything else.”

“But what's it all about? Do you know?”

Theodore hesitated. “Did he offer to sell you the muffler?”

“No-o. Just asked me if I'd lost one. He seemed sure I had lost one, but I'm just as sure my three mufflers are safe in my drawer. I even looked later to make sure.”

“Good. Very good,
”
Theodore said with relief. “I had best not say any more, Eduardo. Give me a ring tomorrow after you have seen the Capitán, if you wish.”

“Very well, Teo. How goes the painting? Are you doing anything?”

“Yes—some. And you?”

“Yes. Portraits still. After June, landscapes.”

Eduardo was a methodical young man. Portraits and nothing but portraits for a solid year. And after the year of landscapes would come probably a year of still lifes. Lelia had used to tease him about his routines, but she also had respected his talent. Theodore returned to his work, and after a few minutes lost all thought of anything but his pen-line drawing of the cigarette-smoking, cynical slouch of a man who was the villain of the book, and who represented reality, fatalism, and pessimism.

When he heard a murmur of voices at his gates, he realized it was after two in the morning. Then a key turned. Theodore stood up. Another key turned in the house door, and quiet steps crossed the living-room. It was probably Ramón, Theodore thought, so why was he afraid to call his name? And those were Ramón's steps, he thought, coming up the stairs. Theodore looked through the half-open door of his studio and saw Ramón's head appear as he climbed.

“Hello, Ramón! You're late!” Theodore said.

“You're still up? I was trying not to wake you.”

Theodore laid his pen down. “Come in a moment. I have something to tell you. I called up Eduardo Parral tonight and out of the blue he said a man telephoned him this evening at eight and asked him if he had lost a muffler.”

“Really?” Ramón said, but with only mild interest.

“Is Eduardo's name in your address book?”

“I think so. Yes.”

“So that's what he is using. He'll probably call others of your friends, and he'll surely walk into a trap, if we can set one fast enough.”

Ramón looked at him a moment, then bent over the drawing. “This is the villain?”

“Yes. And the hero's going to be standing here—much smaller—looking at him.” Ramón had read the book in Guanajuato, and had seemed to enjoy it.

“I like the eyes. They're just right,” Ramón said. “It's a good book, Teo, and your drawings will make it famous.”

There were not a great many names in Ramón's address book, Theodore was thinking. If they instructed two or three people to claim the muffler and make an appointment with Infante—But perhaps the boy was too wary now to make his transactions in person. Infante must have been aware of the police cordon around the city. “Were you talking to someone down at the gates just now, Ramón?”

“Yes, the police guard. He came up as I was unlocking the gates and grabbed my arm before he recognized me. We should feel very well protected,” Ramón added with a smile.

Theodore made no more effort that night to talk to Ramón of the implication of the muffler story. It was simply not penetrating Ramón as yet.

It gave Theodore some satisfaction the next morning to see Infante's picture in a double column on the front pages of the major newspapers under the caption “Have You Seen This Youth?” His smirking face would be seen, and perhaps remembered, even by people who were too poor to buy a paper.

The next morning, Theodore called the Palacio Real Silver Shop. They did not have a necklace left in the shop in Lelia Ballesteros's name.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Hello, Teo. This is Isabel Hidalgo.
.
.
.
I am all right, thank you, and you?” She spoke in English, as she often did when she was in a gay mood, but her voice sounded anxious now. “What do you make of this story in the papers today? Do they really think Infante is the guilty one?”

“They aren't sure,” Theodore replied. “He certainly has something to do with it, of that I'm quite sure.”

She went on asking him questions, which Theodore answered very cautiously, not wanting to label the fellow the murderer when there was really not yet enough evidence to prove that he was. The papers said that “police authorities” had reason to think the youth was implicated in the gruesome Ballesteros murder of last February, and Theodore told her nothing more than that, except he admitted having seen the boy loitering in front of his house.

“Somebody told me your house was guarded.”

“This was several weeks ago—before the guard,” Theodore said. “And how is Carlos, Isabel?”

“Oh-h, just as usual, Teo, maybe a little worse.” Then she lapsed into Spanish. “The work at the Universidad—the plays in addition to his classes—and now he is thinking of accepting an offer to direct a play for the round theatre in Chapultepec, and meanwhile all this makes him nervous, so he drinks one too many and even during the day, I'm afraid.”

Theodore murmured something sympathetic, suggested a vacation, but Isabel told him Carlos would say it was impossible. Isabel chattered on, and even in Spanish, in which she tried to make her words light in tone, Theodore could hear that she was quite upset and that the situation was beyond minimizing any longer. Carlos had even missed a few days' work, and had not gone to the Universidad today.

“Is he there now?” Theodore asked.

“No, he's gone out.”

It was a quarter past noon. Theodore wondered if Sauzas had telephoned Carlos, and Carlos had gone out because he could not face a visit on a hangover morning.

“Teo dear, could you do me a favor?”

“Of course. What?”

“Come over to the house now. I'd like you to be here when Carlos gets back. You're a good influence on him. Not that you have to give him a talking-to. I don't mean that. Just be yourself. I can fix a little lunch for you! Would you, Teo?”

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he could not resist her pleading voice. “Yes, Isabel. How soon?”

“As soon as you can. If Ramón is with you, he's welcome, too.”

He knew she would prefer that Ramón did not come, but he promised to ask Ramón, anyway.

Ramón at that moment was out, and had been gone since ten, though he had said he would be back at one for his lunch. Theodore felt sure that he had walked to the Cathedral, and
en route
looked the streets for Infante.

Theodore took a taxi. He had not been to the Hidalgos' since the fatal night, and that vision of himself, light-hearted and free, with his heavy portfolio, came back to him painfully as he rang their bell. Isabel took him into the living-room, where the many-colored mobile hung, bigger and brighter by daylight, and suggestive of a false gaiety. Isabel did her best, but her hands were nervous, spilling a few drops of the Dubonnet as she poured it.

“One would think
I'm
the one who's been drinking!” she said with a laugh.

She expected Carlos any minute. Isabel said he always preferred to come home for lunch, but at a quarter to two he still had not come. Isabel took something from the oven—the maid came only mornings and the maid had cooked it, she explained—and they sat down. She questioned him about Ramón, having heard of his belief in his own guilt through some of their mutual friends, and Theodore replied that he was ‘progressing' and that he had never, or at least only for a few days, believed that Ramón was guilty.

“Then who do you think did it?” Isabel said, leaning towards him. “You must have some suspicions, Teo. If you tell me, I promise you it won't go any farther.”

“I think I
could
trust you, Isabel,” Theodore said with a smile. “But, honestly, I have no suspicions. I've never had any. There's not a person I've ever laid eyes on I would think capable of such a murder. I mean, no one I personally know—whom I could name.”

Isabel nodded. “I know, I know.”

“Eat while it's hot. This is very good.”

Isabel jumped at the sound of the doorbell. “Excuse me, Teo.” She pressed the release button. “He must have gone out without his keys.”

Theodore pushed his chair back and stood up, braced already for Carlos's effusive embraces.

“Who is it?” Isabel called into the hall.

“Capitán Sauzas of the Police, at your service,” Sauzas's voice called, and then he appeared at the door. “Señora Hidalgo?
Buenas tardes
. I have an appointment with your husband at two o'clock. Well, Señor Schiebelhut! How are you?” Sauzas said, coming in, smiling at Theodore as if he were an old friend.

“Very well, Señor Capitán. I didn't know you had an appointment at this time.”

“But yes! I rang up this morning. So sorry to disturb your meal. The police are always disturbing something, aren't they. Is your husband here, Señora?”

“No, he is out,” Isabel replied, fumbling with her napkin. “But I expect him at any moment. Is anything wrong?”

“No, no. I just have some questions. I phoned him at ten o'clock this morning. Didn't he tell you?”

“No—I was out at ten myself. Well, if he made an appointment with you, I'm sure he'll be back. Will you sit down?”

Sauzas sat down on one of the studio couches in a far corner, declined Isabel's offer of coffee, and asked them please to proceed with their meal.

Isabel sat down, but did not pretend to eat. Theodore had lit a cigarette.

“Perhaps I should be going, Isabel,” Theodore said. “If the Señor Capitán—”

“But you have eaten nothing! You must have your coffee, Teo, at least.” She went off to the kitchen.

Sauzas was quietly looking over some papers.

Theodore did not want to ask him about news in the hearing of Isabel.

“What time did Señor Hidalgo leave the house?” Sauzas asked her as she came back with the coffee-urn.

“Around eleven,” she replied.

Sauzas looked at his watch. “Nearly half-past two. Did he say where he was going?”

“No, he didn't. You are sure you would not like coffee, señor?”

Sauzas accepted the coffee now. They chattered for a few moments about Carlos's work at the Universidad. Sauzas seemed calm and as usual. Then he said:

“Well, perhaps I can ask you one of my questions, Señora Hidalgo. Maybe a wife would know as well as a husband. Did Señor Hidalgo lose one of his mufflers recently?”

“I don't think so. Why?”

“Why is very complicated to explain,” Sauzas said with a polite smile. “I can only say I have a reason for asking. Would you know from looking at his mufflers if he is missing any?”

“I don't know. I can look, if you wish,” Isabel said, standing up.

Sauzas got up, too, and followed her into the bedroom, which was down the short passage, opposite the kitchen. Isabel pulled out the bottom drawer of a bureau. The drawer held mostly woollen socks, clean but in disorder, and at the right several folded mufflers of the gay stripes and plaids that Carlos preferred.

“There are six here,” Isabel said, looking through them but not removing them from the drawer.

“Quite a lot of mufflers. He is fond of mufflers?” asked Sauzas.

“Ye-es. And students give them to him as presents,” Isabel said. “He has given one or two away himself.”

“Lately?”

“I think he gave one away at Tres Reyes. One at New Year's too.”

“You would not know if any is missing from his current stock?” asked Sauzas.

Still stooping, Isabel looked up at him. “What is this about?”

Sauzas took a breath. “A most serious matter, señora. I do not want to upset you. Please take your time and think. Perhaps you can recall a muffler your husband has not worn, say, in the last two months? Do you have a good memory?”

She hesitated. “Is this in regard to the Ballesteros case?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes, señora. We are asking the same questions of everybody. Everybody who knew her at all. There's nothing to be alarmed about.”

Isabel suddenly burst into sobs, and Theodore lifted her by her arms. Sauzas looked at Theodore with wondering eyes.

“Her husband has been drinking a lot lately,” Theodore said quietly, thinking it was better to say this than not to try to explain her state at all. “That's perhaps why he didn't keep the appointment with you.”

Sauzas lighted a cigarette. “Señora Hidalgo, pardon me,” he said with a small bow that she did not see. “Did your husband receive any other telephone calls this morning? Or last night?”

Isabel daubed her eyes with Theodore's handkerchief. “I don't know, señor.”

“Was he also upset last night?”

“He has been quite upset for many weeks—months.”

“What is he worried about? Money? His job?”

“His job is too much for him, and he takes on too much,” Isabel replied.

Sauzas looked at his wrist-watch, then said gloomily to Theodore: “I'm to see Sanchez-Schmidt at three-thirty.”

“You have seen Eduardo Parral?” Theodore asked.

Sauzas nodded, and smiled a little at Theodore. “Señora Hidalgo, your husband has not said anything about a muffler in the last day? Or weeks?”

“No,” Isabel said, shaking her head.

And she seemed to be speaking the truth, but Sauzas questioned her closely and begged her to try to remember if there had been any strange telephone calls whatsoever, or if she thought there had been any that her husband might not have told her about, and Isabel said none that she knew of. Sauzas asked why Carlos was not at the Universidad today, a Thursday.

“Because—he did not feel well today,” Isabel said, looking wretchedly down at the floor.

“Did he say last night he was not going to work today?”

“Yes,” Isabel replied readily.

“He was drinking last night?”

“Drinking and playing the gramophone,” said Isabel.

“I see. Well, Señora Hidalgo,” he said, “it's getting on to three and I must leave. Can I give you a number to call when your husband comes in? Just ask for this exchange and leave the message with anyone.” He handed her a card.

Theodore, though he thought Isabel might have liked him to stay on, was very eager to talk with Sauzas. “I shall telephone you this evening, if I may, Isabel,” he said, touching her shoulder. “I'm sorry this was so upsetting to you. It was a bad time for me to come.”

“Oh, no,” she protested, getting up and managing a smile as she walked with them to the door. “I had rather have seen you than anyone, Teo.”

“What do you make of that?” asked Sauzas when they were on the sidewalk.

“I don't know. I really don't think she knows anything about the muffler. Do you?”

“Um-m. What's Carlos drinking for? He is young, successful—a reasonably pretty wife—”

“Carlos has always drunk too much. As long as I've known him, which is two years now.”

They were walking to the corner of Insurgentes, towards the spot where Theodore had caught a taxi to Lelia's on the night of her death.

Sauzas suddenly patted Theodore's shoulder. “Can I trust you to call me later this afternoon or tonight, if Hidalgo comes home? I have the feeling his wife will not call me. She's the protective type.”

Theodore felt a tingle of alarm. “Yes. You'll be in your office?”

“I think so. After Sanchez-Schmidt. But leave the message with anyone. Here's a
libre
. Can I drop you? I'm going to Meichor Ocampo, way up.”

“No, no, thanks, Señor Capitán.”

“Cheer up! I expect to hear any minute that we've found Infante. I'm going to call my office from Sanchez-Schmidt's.”

Theodore only nodded and waved an adieu.

When Theodore phoned Isabel Hidalgo at seven, Carlos had still not come home. He phoned again at nine-thirty. Isabel had telephoned several of their friends, and she was quite worried.

“Do you think I should call the hospitals, Teo?”

It was a moment before the question registered on him, and then it did not seem to make sense. Carlos was more likely in a little bar with piano music, somewhere. “Have you spoken to Capitán Sauzas?” Theodore asked. “Have you told him?”

“He called an hour ago. I told him Carlos had not come home.”

“And what did he say?”

“I don't know. I'm supposed to let him know,” she said with a tremor in her voice. “What is all this about the muffler?
What
muffler? Have they found a muffler?”

“I don't know exactly myself. It's what the police call a lead—to something. I was also asked if I had lost a muffler.”

“Well—is there something dangerous connected with it?”

“I don't even know that, Isabel. Now sooner or later you must go to sleep tonight, you know. Don't try to wait up for him. Shall I call you again before midnight to see if he's home?”

“Yes,
please
do, Teo.”

Ramón was standing in the hall. “What's the matter?” he asked with a suspicious frown when Theodore had hung up.

“Carlos Hidalgo. He's drinking and he hasn't been home all day.”

Ramón had been out when Theodore returned from Isabel's, and he had not yet told him of Carlos's absence or of Sauzas's visit to his house. Ramón listened to it with unconcern, and remarked that Carlos was a fool and that he had always drunk like an American. “It is too bad for Isabel,” Ramón added. He had always liked Isabel better than Carlos. “There is no news yet about Infante?”