The Body of Martin Aguilera (3 page)

Cyril scratched his chin. “So, you want to tell me what's going on?”

“It stays here,” Lewis said.

Cyril nodded.

“Someone murdered a friend of mine. Martin Aguilera.”

“An old man?”

“You know him?”

The vet looked at the squirrel. “That's it,” he muttered. “He brought his dog in three, maybe four weeks ago, with burns. The dog wasn't dead yet, but he was on his way.”

“He took the dog with him?”

“He wouldn't let me keep him.” He sat on a stool. “Somebody killed him?”

Lewis blew out a breath. “I think so. I found him dead, but when I went back with the sheriff, the body was gone.”

Lewis imagined that Cyril was now skeptical. “My granddaughter was with me. She saw him, too.”

“What did the sheriff say?”

“What could he say?” Lewis wrapped the squirrel up again. “Thanks for looking at Mortimer.”

“Wait. Where you going?”

“Home.”

Cyril scratched his belly through his denim shirt. “Want me to ride out to the old man's place with you?”

Lewis studied the man. “Okay.”

“I've got to look at that dog out there. You mind waiting?”

Lewis shook his head. “Can you get rid of the squirrel?”

“No problem.”

Lewis went back to the lobby and waited. He smiled at the assistant, but she ignored him. “Mortimer died,” he said.

She looked up.

“Mortimer is dead.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “What was Mortimer?”

“Alive.”

She went back to the papers on her desk.

Chapter Five

While Lewis drove he told Cyril about everything, but he did not repeat his observation that there were no animals in the canyon. That sounded too strange and it scared him too much. Lewis wondered why the man was taking such an interest and coming with him, but he was glad to have the company. He felt a little less scared. Strength in numbers and all that, he thought.

“How long have you lived around here?” Cyril asked.

“Going on three years.”

“Retired?”

“Yep.” Lewis didn't like the word.

“From?”

“I was a university professor?”

“Where?”

“Bennington College.”

“No,” said Cyril. “My daughter just started there.”

“How about that.” Lewis looked at the road. “When did you open your office here and where were you?” Lewis didn't like the way he'd asked the questions.

But Cyril seemed unbothered. “Used to practice down in Albuquerque. Got tired of city people and little dogs.”

“Martin was my friend,” Lewis said.

“I'm sorry.”

They crossed the river, passed the cafe and followed the trail to Martin's house. Lewis stopped fifty yards away and looked at a blue Camaro parked in front of the cabin.

“What is it?” Cyril asked.

“That car.”

“Well, let's go see who it is.”

“Right.” This made perfect sense. Lewis felt like a coward. He came to a stop directly behind the strange car.

“It's a rental,” Cyril said.

“How do you know that?” Lewis asked.

“Says so on the license plate bracket. See, Budget.”

“Oh.”

The men got out of the car and walked toward the cabin. Lewis glanced into the Camaro on the way by and saw nothing. A man stepped out of the cabin.

Lewis stopped.

Cyril waved. “Hey there, how you doin'?”

The young man smiled, waved, and came toward them.

“What're you doing out here?” Lewis asked.

The man was taken aback by Lewis' tone. “Looking for my grandfather. What are you doing here?”

“Your grandfather?” Lewis asked.

“Martin Aguilera.”

Cyril reached his hand out. “I'm Cyril Peabody and this is Lewis Mason.”

“Joseph Taylor.”

“Martin never mentioned a grandson,” Lewis said.

Taylor looked at Lewis for a long second. “What's going on here? Where is my grandfather?”

Cyril lookd at Lewis.

Lewis didn't know if the young man was on the level or not. But if this Taylor was who he said, then he didn't want to hurt him.

“I'm not sure,” Lewis said. “I've been looking for him ever since yesterday.”

The young man looked back at the house and seemed to be lost. He didn't seem to know what to do.

“You want to ride to the sheriff's station with me?” Lewis asked.

“What's happened?” Taylor asked.

Lewis felt suddenly sad for the man. “I don't know.”

“I'll have to follow you.”

“Would you mind dropping me by my office first?” Cyril asked.

“No problem,” Lewis said. “It's on the way.”

Lewis didn't say anything in the car. Neither did Cyril. Except to say he'd hate to be the one to tell Taylor about his grandfather. Lewis didn't believe Taylor. Martin had never mentioned a grandson; he had never mentioned any family. And for this guy to show up now? One day after Martin was found dead? Lewis didn't buy it. He wondered what Taylor wanted.

The blue Camaro stayed behind him and this surprised Lewis somewhat. He'd expected the car to turn off and never be seen again. The Camaro waited while he let out Cyril.

“Be careful,” Cyril said. “Call me later and let me know what's going on. The operator will tell you my number.”

Lewis watched the heavy man walk away. He decided that he liked him. He pulled off with the Camaro still following.

At the station, Lewis and Taylor walked in together. Mondragon was out of his office talking to the dispatcher. He looked up and saw Lewis.

“Hey, prof, got some news for you,” Mondragon said.

“Manny, this is Martin's grandson, Joseph Taylor.”

The sheriff's manner changed. He sighed. “I'm sorry to tell you that we found Martin Aguilera's body in the river this morning.”

“Body?” the man said. He found a chair. “I just got a letter from him two weeks ago. He wanted me to come see him.”

“In the river?” Lewis asked.

“Accident,” the sheriff said.

“Manny?”

“He was geared up for fishing, professor. He probably stepped out too far and the river snatched him in. Happens all the time.”

“Manny?”

But Mondragon would not look at Lewis' eyes. “I'm sorry about your grandfather,” he said to Taylor. “I have a lot of work to do. If you'll excuse me.” He went into his office.

The display of grief seemed pretty genuine and Lewis began to feel for the young man. But Lewis had nothing to say to him. Lewis had nothing to say to anyone. He was confused and angry. He left the station. He wondered why Manny Mondragon had behaved the way he had. Perhaps he too did not trust the stranger claiming to be Martin's relative. But that would have been a pretty quick assessment. Mondragon seemed to be telling Lewis to stay out of it. Lewis leaned against his car and waited for Taylor.

Taylor came out shortly, lighting a cigarette and looking at the sky. He saw Lewis and walked to him.

“I'm sorry about your grandfather,” Lewis said.

Taylor nodded. “You were his friend.” It was not a question, but a statement.

“Yes.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Where are you from?” Lewis asked.

“Seattle.”

Lewis looked at the rental car.

“Listen,” said Taylor, “it's clear you don't trust me. Want to tell me why? My grandfather is dead. I want to know what's going on.”

Lewis listened to him, looked at his eyes, believed him. “Martin never mentioned any family to me.”

“He and my mother didn't get along. He didn't like the fact that she married a white man.”

“I found your grandfather dead in his cabin yesterday.”

“But the sheriff said—”

“I know what the sheriff said. When he went back out there with me the body was gone. Sounds crazy. Mr. Taylor, I don't know what's going on and I don't know who to trust. You pop up out of nowhere the day after I find Martin dead. What am I supposed to think?”

“I understand. But put yourself in my shoes. My grandfather writes and tells me something's wrong, but not what and when I get here the sheriff tells me he's drowned in the river and you tell me this.”

“I'm sorry.”

Taylor dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. “Sheriff told me I could pick up Gramp's things tomorrow. Did my grandfather talk to you about something that was bothering him?”

“He didn't mention anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Last time I saw him was a couple of weeks ago and he didn't say anything out of the ordinary.” Lewis remembered that visit. He and Martin were sitting out in the yard looking at a full moon. Coyotes were howling in the canyon and they laughed as Martin's dog Rojo tried to bay with them.

“Well,” Taylor said, “I'm staying at the Best Western in town. If you think of anything—”

“I'll call.”

Chapter Six

Maggie and Laura met Lewis at the front door. Maggie waved a quarter in his face, said, “What is this? Have you ever seen one of these?”

“What are you raving about?” Lewis asked.

“This is a quarter, Lewis.”

Lewis sat down on the sofa, kicked off his shoes.

“You drop one of these into a pay phone and dial and you can tell the people who are sick with worry that you're okay and not dead in some ditch.”

“I'm sorry.”

Laura sat beside him.

“I just got off the phone with the sheriff.”

Lewis looked at her.

“I was calling to tell him you were overdue, but he told us you'd been there.”

“So, what's the fuss.”

Maggie cleared her throat. “I'll make tea.”

When the woman was out of the room, Laura said, “Maggie's mad.”

“Yeah, well, she has a right to be. I'm sorry I worried you.” He looked at the kitchen door. “Maggie?”

“What?”

“Did Mondragon say anything to you about Martin?”

“No.”

Lewis got up and walked to the phone on the wall just inside the kitchen. He asked the operator to dial the sheriff. “May I speak to Sheriff Mondragon, please? Yes, it's important. Manny?”

“Yeah?” said Mondragon.

“It's me, Lewis Mason. Want to tell me what's going on?”

“I told you everything, professor. Aguilera died in the river while fishing.”

“And that's all you have to say to me?”

“That's what my report says.”

Lewis let the receiver down in its cradle. He looked up to find Maggie and Laura staring at him from the kitchen table.

“Martin drowned in the river.”

Maggie frowned. “But you said—”

“I know what I said. Don't ask me to explain anything. The sheriff is writing in his report that Martin Aguilera drowned while fishing in the rapid water of the Rio Grande. I don't think my name appears.”

“Relax,” Maggie said.

“Something really strange is going on. Martin's grandson showed up.”

“Already?”

Lewis sat down at the table. “Claims he got a letter from the old man saying something was wrong. Taylor's his name. Says his mother married a white man and got Martin mad. If he's got Mexican blood, I do.”

“Why is the sheriff acting funny?” Maggie asked.

Lewis shrugged. “I thought he didn't want to say anything in front of Taylor. But now I don't know. Maybe he's scared of something. “He picked up his mug and sipped the hot tea. “Have you met the new vet?”

Maggie shook her head.

“Cyril Peabody. A nice guy.”

“Where'd you run into him?”

Lewis decided not to mention the squirrel. “In town.” He looked out the window at the afternoon. “So, how did you two get along today?”

“Great,” said Maggie.

“No fighting or anything like that?”

Laura laughed. “No,” she said. “We played cards and went for a walk. We saw a tanager.”

“Hey, that's terrific. That's one of my favorite birds.” He looked at his mug.

“I think I'll stay here tonight,” Maggie said. “Keep an eye on you two.”

“You know you're welcome.”

Laura was pleased.

“We'll make cookies,” Maggie told the child.

“We'll walk up the mountain a ways. How's that sound?” Lewis asked.

“Good,” said Laura.

“Remember when we hiked over on Garapata Ridge?” he asked Maggie.

Maggie nodded.

“There's a trail that leads down to Plata Creek, isn't there?”

“I'm not sure. I think so. Why?”

“Nothing.” Lewis smiled at Laura. Plata Creek ran through Plata Canyon, Martin's canyon. Lewis knew the canyon wasn't boxed, so he could probably ride into it from the back side.

“Papa?” Laura said. “Are you all right?”

“Sure, honey.” He looked at his mug. “Is this herbal tea?”

Laura smiled. “Yes.”

“You guys are really funny.”

The late afternoon showed no promise of rain. Lewis looked at the sky. “Man, it's dry.” He stopped as they stepped over a ditch of moving water. “Maggie, you think you and Laura could walk the ditch for me tomorrow? We ought to have better flow than this.”

Maggie said they would.

Lewis' water came from a creek which fed a ditch which ran a mile around and down the mountain and filled a cistern and was processed. He'd yet to have a serious problem, but he could easily foresee being without water one of these dry summers.

They turned to look down. From up here they could see clear down to the town.

“You've got to get out of that place, Maggie,” Lewis said.

“It's okay.”

Laura walked higher, looking for puff-ball mushrooms.