Bengochea regained his color. He continued eating slowly. Maria realized that he was thinking about his answer.
“Yes, I met them, but it’s been a long time since I’ve heard anything about them. Plus, I think they’re dead. At least he is…that’s the rumor that went around a few years ago.”
Maria couldn’t believe what she just heard. She knew that if she could have found the couple, they could get to the bottom of it.
“What can you tell me about them?”
“Well, I don’t know where they learned it, but they were masters of falsifying documents. They could make a transcript from the University of Havana just as easily as a birth certificate from some village on the Island, a passport, and even a social security card with a dead man’s number. He was a cynic. He said coarsely that the only thing he didn’t falsify was cash… I didn’t know if she was with him out of love or fear. She seemed like the better person. What I mean is, she spoke with less arrogance and was polite, but she was an accomplice all the same.”
“Do you know their names, where they might have lived?”
“All he went by was El Oso. Now that I think about it, maybe because he had so much hair on his chest and arms… He always wore a partially unbuttoned shirt with a big chain and medallion of Saint Barbara, I think, or I don’t know, maybe Our Lady of Charity, or Saint Lazarus… I don’t remember her name, although the face is coming back to me… She had one of those really Spanish names…Dolores, Milagros, Fe…Soledad… That’s it, her name was Soledad. I’m sure because that was one of my paternal aunt’s names.”
“If I get a police sketch artist, would you be willing to work with him to make a pencil rendition of their faces and also look at some photos to see if you recognize them?”
Bengochea looked uncomfortable. Once again, Fernandez chimed in smoothly.
“We know how busy you are. I know that you’re about to finish a new novel, but we won’t take up much of your time. We’ll try to have everything all ready by the time you get to the station. It’ll only take a few minutes, and we’ll arrange a taxi for you if that’s better, preferably this afternoon because we’re heading back to Miami on Monday.”
Bengochea looked at him condescendingly…
“I don’t think I can today… I have a conflict tonight. You do know that in this very spot on Saturdays poets and singers have a pretty eclectic gathering? Maybe you guys would like to come…”
“Me? Of course. What time?” Fernandez asked.
“It starts at eight o’clock but doesn’t get going until around ten.”
“Then we’ll arrange your visit at the station for two or four o’clock in the afternoon; you’ll have ample time.”
Bengochea laughed in such an exaggerated fashion that his abdominal muscles moved.
“Wow, man, you’re worse than Duquesne… You’re persistent.”
“I’d really appreciate it,” Maria said in her sweetest and most seductive tone.
“Fine, set it up and let me know.”
As they said goodbye, Fernandez started looking for information on his phone.
“Check this out Maria, the 78th Precinct is the closest, but the 68th is also in Brooklyn, and, even though it’s a little farther away, it’s considered one of the best in the country. I’d go there.”
“Ok, but we’re going to call Larry to touch base first.”
Some twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped in front of a huge, gray and blue cement building.
The call with Larry had been productive. They helped them right away and assured them that an artist would be available to do the sketches at two thirty in the afternoon. The photo issue was more complicated. They didn’t really know where Soledad lived nor whether she even had a criminal record. The sergeant suggested that after they had the sketch done they could take a picture and see if the database recognized the facial features.
When they left the office in the afternoon with Bengochea and the drawings of both El Oso and his partner in crime, Maria was euphoric. She felt like she was close to tying up all the loose ends.
Chapter 15
Day 15—Monday, November 16, 2015
Maria didn’t wait to return to Miami before getting back at it. Her office had informed her that she had a message from Joaquin del Roble who had returned to The Palace and wanted to see her. While still in La Guardia she made an appointment for four thirty in the afternoon, since she knew that Lazo’s uncle would take a siesta until four. She stopped by the house to drop off her suitcase, look at the mail, and touch up her hair and makeup. She was at the office just long enough to find her notes on the interview with Don Joaquin. She was in the luxurious lobby right on time, but this time the exiled Spaniard wasn’t waiting for her there. They explained that he was in a different building for the time being because he needed additional care.
Once she saw him, Maria had to mask her sadness. In just a few days, he had seemed to age. Only the deep blue eyes reminded her of the elegant and learned gentleman that she had met at the beginning of the investigation. He was seated in an overstuffed armchair, in pajamas, and wearing an elegant robe. He had a blanket over his legs.
“I don’t know why I’m always cold,” he said after greeting her, as if he had realized that she thought it was odd to see him so bundled up on a sunny, warm day.
“After all these years I’m still not used to air conditioning,” he insisted. “But please, Miss, have a seat…”
Maria asked him about his health. Don Joaquin made a gesture with his hand like he was shooing away flies.
“So-so, that’s why it was so urgent that I see you. I’m fine, don’t make that face, but one never knows.”
“Don’t talk like that…”
“Don’t worry. Nobody is going to miss me… But let’s not talk about me.”
“Whatever you say.”
Maria took out her recorder and notepad, and he gave his consent with a nod of the head.
“By the way, I didn’t tell you the end of the story about my relationship with Alberto… He had been working and living with me for about ten years. He wasn’t a kid anymore but a man. He was reserved, but nice and appreciative…or so I thought for many years. He did his job. He helped around the yard and fixed whatever broke in the house. He was very handy. He was very resourceful. He’d use a hanger when someone else would have gone to Home Depot in search of some tool. He told me that in Cuba he had learned to make do with what he had. He would call his mother now and then. He always asked permission and insisted on paying for the call. One time he put me on the phone with her, and although I’m really not very sentimental, I was moved by how kindly she spoke about my brother. She even said that her mother, before she died, recognized that Juancho had been the love of her life. You see, I always thought that my brother had never had a woman who loved him.”
“What else did Alberto or his mother tell you about life in Cuba? Did she live in Havana or Matanzas?”
“In Havana… I think in an apartment in La Vibora…you know, the neighborhood… Santa Catalina is the main street with real mansions, but the side streets have more modest homes and buildings. I knew Havana really well because we would deliver all the hats my mother made for her clients.”
“Alberto didn’t say anything to you about Matanzas?”
“No, if he was born there, he left as a young child because all of his stories were about Havana…except for when he went off to the countryside as part of his schooling. You know how Cuba was back then. I don’t think it’s like that anymore.”
“Did your nephew have friends in Miami?”
“Very few. Sometimes he would go out for a beer with his friends from work. I never went along. They were my employees, and it didn’t feel right to me.”
“Did he have a girlfriend or was there a special woman?”
“There was one who used to dr
ive a FedEx truck—you know how things have changed—and she’d deliver the parts we ordered. Sometimes I saw them talking and you know…flirting. But Alberto was reserved, kind of quiet…it didn’t make any difference to me. I like to read, listen to music, and, since I was used to being alone, I wasn’t a big talker, either. All things considered, I found his company pleasant.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, look, I don’t know. Around 1990 he started getting very restless. He’d speak mysteriously on the phone. He’d go out at all hours. He asked me if he could work extra hours to make more. Then he told me very delicately that he was very grateful, but he wanted to move out and live alone. I thought he might have a woman and that’s who he was talking to and going to see, and that’s why he needed more privacy. It made me sad that he was moving, but I understood. We remained good friends, and he kept doing great at work. He would still come to the house to cut my grass, and he always refused to charge me.”
Don Joaquin paused and took a drink of water.
“I prefer wine or whiskey at this hour, but they won’t let me have it.”
Maria knew that he needed the break in order to continue, and she suspected that he was about to reveal something important to her.
“Look, Miss, you can see what happened next in the police reports. Two masked men broke into my shop very early in the morning, at the only hour I was alone. They held me up at gunpoint and made me go to the safe. They knew where it was, right behind a bookcase. I didn’t have any other option than to open it. They took off with about forty thousand dollars because a customer had paid in cash the day before, and I was waiting for one of the security guards I sometimes use to accompany me to the bank the next morning. I’m sure someone tipped them off…”
“And did you suspect Alberto?”
“Not at the beginning. The truth is I didn’t know who to suspect. All my employees had been with me for years, and I had never had any problems. If I suspected anyone, it would have been a girl, Magda, not because she was a bad person, just a little ditsy and indiscreet. She had just gone through a divorce, and I thought that maybe she had a boyfriend and that, maybe without realizing it, she had told him things. The police investigated but they never caught the thieves, and I never got the money back except for what the insurance covered… But the story doesn’t end there.”
Once again, Don Joaquin took a sip of water before continuing.
“A few months later, they came into my house despite the alarms—they must have known how good they were. They knew exactly how to disable them and where I kept the safe. This time they didn’t get hardly any money, but they did take some jewelry that had belonged to my mother and some that was Antonia’s. Nothing of great monetary value, just sentimental. It seems that it made them mad that there hadn’t been more, so before leaving they beat me up pretty bad. I lost consciousness and wasn’t able to call the police until many hours later. This time they recovered my mother’s wedding band in a pawnshop, but that was all…and the case is still unresolved. The police aren’t always very efficient.”
“Before there were fewer resources then than now,” Maria defended herself.
“I know, Miss, I’m kidding. It doesn’t matter.”
“And did you suspect Alberto?”
“Well, you’re going to think I’m stupid but at the beginning, no. Or maybe I didn’t want to because I knew perfectly well that he was the only one who knew my house well.”
“What happened next?”
“At first, little things. Don’t laugh. I realized that he wouldn’t look me in the eye, that he would get nervous each time he looked at me, even that he had lost weight and sweated a lot. I thought that maybe he felt guilty and that I should confront him to see if he’d tell me the truth. The police advised me not to do it, but the situation had me very uneasy.”
“Did you ever speak to him?”
“Not really. One Friday he got paid and, before leaving, he put an envelope on my desk. He thanked me for everything I had done for him, and he told me that he was quitting his job and that he was leaving Miami. I didn’t hear anything else about him until almost two years later.”
Don Joaquin looked at the clock that showed six thirty. A girl came in with some medicines and a dinner tray.
“You can come back tomorrow if you would like…”
Maria understood that she would have to wait until the next visit to hear the end of the story. But Don Joaquin had already given her important clues. Lazo had gotten involved in criminal activity—either voluntarily or by blackmail—or, at a minimum, he provided information to facilitate it. Even though she seemed to understand better the man whose death she was investigating, she was still missing many pieces of the puzzle. Most of all, knowing whether the little baby that was traveling with him in the car was still alive and where to find her.
Chapter 16
Day 16—Tuesday, November 17, 2015
The ringer on her cell woke her up at four in the morning. Patrick was speaking quickly and she was so sound asleep that it took a few minutes to figure out what he was telling her. One of his friends from the University of Florida had fallen from the sixth floor, and the ambulance had taken him unconscious and bloodied.
“Mami, I wasn’t with him because I have an exam tomorrow and I don’t like to go out during the week… Maybe if I had gone, this wouldn’t have happened to him…”
“Patrick, you can’t think like that. You can’t take care of everybody.”
“Mami, I don’t know what could’ve happened. He’s my age, he plays hockey, and he gets good grades. He’s nice, a good friend… He isn’t a drinker and doesn’t do drugs…”
“Hopefully he has only broken a few bones and will recover.”
“I don’t know… When I got there, they had already taken him away and the place where he fell was surrounded by yellow tape, and there was so much blood!”
Patrick hung up when he got to the hospital where they had taken his friend, and he promised to call her when he knew something. Maria didn’t even bother going back to sleep. She fixed herself a cup of tea and got comfortable in her armchair with a blanket on her lap along with her cell phone. Not even ten minutes had gone by when Patrick called again. This time it was even harder to understand him because he was sobbing. As a mother, she never remembered him crying like that. He kept repeating:
“He died. Mami, he died… Why? Why? He was twenty years old, just like me.”
Maria tried to comfort him, telling him that there were things that couldn’t be explained, that it was hard to face the death of a person your own age…but her words sounded empty even to her, so she had to make a strong effort to stay calm. A different and terrible question kept pounding in her head: what if it had been Patrick?
“Mami, I met him back in Miami…he’s from Weston…his family came from Venezuela fleeing the violence there because Henry was involved in student protests…and look…coming here and dying!”
“Mijo, do you want me to call your father or grandfather, or would you like to come home for a few days?”
“I can’t right now, Mami. I’m in the middle of exams…and work. It’ll be Thanksgiving soon, and I’ll come then.”
“Ok, Mijo, but stay calm…take care of yourself…call me whenever you want to…”
Maria decided to wait until seven o’clock to call Bill. It surprised her that Patrick had already told him everything, and she could say that her ex-husband was actually nice to her.
“You more than anybody see the problems that are out there today… Sometimes I wonder if we did the right thing letting him go to Gainesville…but there’s danger everywhere and I think that living alone has made him grow up.”
“Yesterday he was crying like a baby.”
“Not so much with me. You know that crying doesn’t look manly. Patrick went through his grandmother’s death,
but he had never experienced the death of someone his own age. Only when he was in daycare and that child shot himself playing with his father’s gun. Do you remember?”
“Of course I remember. We prayed for Tim for almost three months before Patrick finally accepted that by then he had probably gotten to Heaven.”
They laughed. It was the first time that they remembered their son’s childhood together and found a topic of conversation that didn’t result in a fight. Maria was glad because that morning she had understood that the boy needed them both.
Patrick had also called his grandfather.
“I offered to go up there, but he told me it wasn’t necessary, that he had to study…so I’ll stay with my plan to go python hunting.”
The increase of those invasive reptiles was threatening the indigenous fauna of the Everglades’ delicate ecosystem. Two years ago, they had created a program to enlist volunteers to hunt snakes that could be up to twenty-six feet long. When it was cold, they would come out on the highways to sun and that’s when it was easiest to catch them. The temperature had recently dipped down a lot for early November. Pythons are not venomous, but they have sharp teeth, and Maria, like her mother, was more afraid of reptiles than the fiercest lions.
“Oh, Papi, I don’t know why you get involved with those things… Be careful, please…”
“Mija, I have to have something to amuse myself…”
“If Mami were alive she wouldn’t let you.”
“I wouldn’t have dared ask!” answered the old policeman with a smile that didn’t hide the longing for his companion of so many years.
“Look, Maria, one more thing…”
The Miracle of Saint Lazarus Page 9