The Hidden Light of Mexico City

by Carmen Amato

  The study was quiet. The whole house was quiet. Even the flatfooted maid who clumped through the house on planks had gone quiet. They were all tiptoeing around him. Family. Friends. Business associates. More like former friends. Former business associates. Monterrey was like a cemetery.

  They’d sent Reynoldo to boarding school. Graciela was gone most of the time. Talking to Lorena was a complaint session. She still hadn’t caved in to Fernando’s pressure to become the next Minister of Public Security but he hadn’t yet been able to duplicate a financial scheme as good as Hermanos Hospitality.

  He was close, however. The plan was to use an ailing subsidiary that imported pulp paper for his print media outlets as a substitute. The company was being “sold” with the help of a clever accountant. When it was under new ownership, he’d start to funnel funds from his other business interests into it, wash them through the import paperwork and then use cash for Lorena’s campaign. As much as he hated to admit it, he was basing his moves on Max Arias’ blueprint. Hermanos Hospitality had been the perfect setup, just far away enough not to be connected with anything Hugo owned and he was sure that Fonseca’s people had never known about it.

  The new company would be handled the same way. And of course, he needed a way to get Site 1 restarted.

  The scheme with the kids had been pure gold.

  Max had done him a favor, Hugo reflected as he poured himself a brandy. Gomez Mazzo had responded to Max’s posting, giving Hugo a chance to talk to his former partner for the first time in months.

  Los Pinos was still within his grasp.

  Chapter 75

  He wasn’t sure why, but Eddo blabbed his guts out to his older sister Pilar at Maria Elena Romero’s wedding.

  There were cocktails and dinner, toasts and dancing and more dancing. He’d mangled a couple of duty dances and spoke to the people he’d needed to speak with and then somehow ended up in a corner with Pilar telling her all about Luz. How they’d met. The investigation into Hugo’s mess and what had happened to her. Finding her again and the week in San Miguel. Everything.

  “Let me get this straight,” Pilar said, looking at his cell phone display. “In a little over a week you’re expecting Luz de Maria to give you an answer to your proposal.”

  “Yes.”

  “And this is how you want to handle it.”

  “Yes.”

  “And guilt has nothing to do with it.”

  Eddo said, “I knew she was it before anything happened.”

  Pilar pursed her lips. They had the same light eyes and wide jaw but the family resemblance ended there. Pilar was a suburban housewife now, but she’d managed to combine Mexican elegance with a norteamericano sense of style. The striking combination was on display tonight in a simple black gown, with dark hair wound into a sleek bun and her trademark pearls at her throat.

  “Well, she’s not in it for the money,” Pilar said. “If she was she would have jumped at the chance to marry you.”

  Eddo felt a spurt of anger. “Be a snob if you want, Pilar,” he said. “If she says yes, we’ll get married, whether or not you approve.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Pilar protested. “But this just seems like too much.”

  “You know me,” Eddo said. “Nothing halfway.”

  “I know.” Pilar rolled her eyes at him, making Eddo laugh. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Hard to believe my little brother finally wants to get married.”

  They touched champagne glasses and drank. Eddo looked around the hotel ballroom, trying to see the reception through Luz’s eyes. Tuxedos and evening gowns. Full orchestra, ice sculptures, rose topiaries, gifts for 500 guests. The cream of the PAN political machine was there, talking, dancing, and paying homage to Arturo and Imelda. The only missing luminaries were the Betancourts who had attended very few social events lately.

  “Did you invite her to come tonight?” Pilar asked, as if reading his mind.

  Eddo nodded glumly. “She’s afraid of all this.”

  “If she’s as smart as you say she is,” Pilar said. “She understands the rules. People know each other’s place in society and can be very cruel to anyone who tries to move up.”

  “Rules can be broken,” Eddo said. Pilar’s husband and daughter were dancing together. His niece waved over her father’s shoulder and Eddo waved back.

  “She’s having a wonderful time.” Pilar’s gaze followed Eddo’s. “Thanks for having Imelda and Arturo invite us. This really is the party of the century.”

  Eddo nodded. “So are you going to help me?”

  “Just tell me one thing, Eduardito. Is this supposed to be compensation for all the times you’re going to scare her to death? Getting shot or rushing off to save the country?”

  Eddo’s cell phone rang.

  “Got a lead,” Vasco said as soon as Eddo answered. “Sheba was in Aruba.”

  “Madre de Dios,” Eddo swore.

  The rest of the conversation was brief. Eddo disconnected and kissed Pilar, barely conscious of the wedding reception still swirling around them. “I’ve got to go. There’s a plane waiting for me. Tell Bill and the kid bye from me.”

  “I rest my case,” Pilar said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Pilar shook her head. “Go.”

  On the way out of the reception hall Eddo called Luz to tell her he’d be out of touch for awhile.

  Chapter 76

  Two days after Eddo’s last call, in a silky nightgown she’d worn only briefly in San Miguel, Luz plunked herself on the sofa with a glass of wine and some newspapers. It was long after midnight and the summer rain had stopped. She’d had the dreadful nightmare again, the one in which the noose was around Eddo’s neck instead of her own, and she couldn’t go back to sleep.

  Only the lamp next to the sofa was lit. The living room was warm and muggy. Juan Pablo would graduate in just a few days. After that, presuming Eddo survived the hunt for El Toro and reestablished contact, she’d go to Mexico City and tell Eddo that she couldn’t marry him. They’d have a few days together and that would be it. Arturo Romero would win the election and Eddo would become Attorney General. She’d take care of Lupe and the girls and keep Juan Pablo from having the sort of wasted life she had. Maybe by the time she was old and gray the gossip would have died down.

  Luz sipped some wine and opened a newspaper. She was soaking up more news than ever since Eddo had gone wherever he’d gone, always looking for credible information related to drug violence but afraid that she’d find something awful at the same time.

  The Veracruz newspaper had a bright blue masthead and a color photo of a bus accident on the front page. Another article reported that 15 male bodies had been found in an abandoned hotel. The violence in the north of the country was spreading as cartel-affiliated gangs rounded up migrants to move drugs up from the southern border with Guatemala and then killed them when the job was done.

  Reforma was a taste of Mexico City. Luz found the June review of the Tamayo Museum exhibits and savored every word. Next came the international news and the national news. She turned another page and there was Eddo, staring out at her in living color from the La Gente society section. He was obscenely handsome in a black tuxedo with a crisp bow tie, dancing with a beautiful woman in a strapless blue gown. One hand was placed possessively on her bare back. The other hand clasped hers. The woman was small and fine-boned. Her head barely came up to Eddo’s wide shoulder. She had a heart-shaped face, creamy skin, and sleek chocolate hair piled in loose curls like a Hollywood starlet. She looked to be in her early twenties, all innocence and upper class femininity. Her head was thrown back so she could see him and the look on her face was one of utter adoration. Eddo gazed down at her with real warmth and affection.

  The caption read: PAN attorney Eduardo Cortez Castillo of Puebla accompanied heiress Carolina Porterfield.

  The back door grated open and the kitchen light went on and Luz flinched so hard she nearly fell off the sofa.

&nbs
p; Lupe and Tío walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. They must have been in Tío’s old shed by the forge. What they had been doing was obvious. Lupe’s frizzy hair was matted on one side, she was barefoot, and the buttons of her old housedress were misaligned. Tío’s shirt hung outside his pants. He looked greasy and sloppy as he leered at Luz’s thinly-covered breasts.

  “We didn’t think anyone was still up.” Lupe murmured something to Tío and edged him to the front door. Tío grunted and raised his head over Lupe’s shoulder to look at Luz again. They walked out the door. The front gate squeaked open.

  Lupe reappeared. She closed the front door, fussed with her hair, and perched on the arm of the sofa. Her eye fell on the La Gente section. “Is that him?”

  Luz reached for the newspaper but Lupe snatched it up first. “They sort of match,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Both so shiny.”

  Luz grabbed the newspaper out of Lupe’s hands and folded it, hiding the picture, sick at heart. “What’s going on with Tío, Lupe?”

  “Armando needs a place to live.” Lupe slid off the arm of the sofa and onto the cushions.

  Luz drew up her legs to make room. “What happened to the place where he was living?”

  “Esteban was letting him stay at the shop.”

  “So?”

  “But Esteban said Armando had to come to work every day,” Lupe said, as if Esteban had perpetrated a grave injustice. “I thought Armando could move back here.”

  “Absolutely not,” Luz said swiftly. She sat up straight. “Tío loses his place to stay because he’s too lazy to hold down a real job?”

  “He wants to restart the forge,” Lupe pleaded.

  “No.” Luz felt her whole body tense. “If his living arrangements were contingent upon his job, maybe Tío should have approached things a little more seriously.”

  “Don’t try and fool me with your big words, Luz,” Lupe said. “You’re not being fair.”

  “Listen to me, Lupe.” Luz reached for her sister’s hand. “How can you forget why he got kicked out of the house?”

  “That was a misunderstanding,” Lupe said, pulling her hand away.

  Luz rubbed her eyes. Her sister was mired in the tiny world of the barrio, tolerating and abetting the worst behavior of men who liked to drink much and work less. She viewed change with suspicion and was content to live like a martyr, using gossip as her release.

  “What are you doing with him, Lupe?” Luz asked tiredly. “What kind of life can he give you?”

  “The real kind,” Lupe flung back. “You think you’re so above it all with your señora hair and fancy clothes. But at least Armando is here with me.” Lupe poked the folded copy of Reforma. “Your fancy man isn’t going to keep promises to some flat-haired muchacha because she can draw pretty pictures. You were tricked and everybody but you knows it.”

  Luz leaped up. “Lupe!”

  “You’re making a fool of yourself.” Lupe stood up to face Luz. “It’s embarrassing. Everybody has been talking about you since that show.”

  “Including you,” Luz said hotly. “Why on earth have you been telling people I worked for Eddo?”

  “I was trying to protect you,” Lupe exclaimed.

  “How about protect yourself?” Luz shot back. “Tío can’t hold down a job but you come running every time he unzips his--.”

  “Hey!”

  Luz and Lupe both turned to see Juan Pablo on the stairs, textbook in hand. “I’ve got my physics final tomorrow,” he said. “Unless there’s some quiet around here, one of you is going to have to take it for me.”

  Juan Pablo looked pointedly from one sister to the other then stalked back up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door. The air in the house rippled.

  “Look, Lupe,” Luz said stiffly. “If Armando wants to restart the forge, I can live with that. But he doesn’t move back in.”

  Sophia started calling. Lupe went upstairs.

  Luz picked up the newspaper and went into her room.

  Maybe Lupe was right. The thought squeezed Luz’s heart. Eddo was having a torrid relationship with this Carolina Porterfield woman, who was probably 20 years younger than he was, because she was the sort of woman he should be with. Young, rich, upper class, flaxen and lovely in all the ways Luz was not. And the woman clearly adored him, it had been written all over her face. Eddo loved this woman because she didn’t argue and was tiny and perfect. She didn’t have indio hair or shoulders like an oil rig worker.

  She was appropriate.

  Chapter 77

  The Minister of National Security of Antigua and Barbuda, Dr. Evan Wibley, was a dick.

  Eddo watched the clock on Wibley’s wall tick for eight minutes as the minister alternately studied Fonseca’s letter, handled the Mexican warrant for the arrest of Gustavo Gomez Mazzo, and made slight lip-smacking sounds. From time to time a saliva bubble formed at the corner of his mouth and lasted until the next soft smack.

  It was Eddo’s second day on the island of Antigua and so far he’d found out that the Falmouth Harbor Marina was expensive, picturesque, and private as hell. Eddo had gone on a scouting mission the previous day and figured out that the yachts were huge, their owners were rich, one entrance controlled access to the slips, and tourists weren’t allowed. The road past the marina entrance was lined on the town side with upscale shops, restaurants, and maritime supply companies, none of which looked like the sort of place Gomez Mazzo frequented.

  Eventually Wibley put down the letter, which had been formatted in both Spanish and English. “I’m sure you realize that this documentation does not give you arrest powers under Antigua and Barbuda law,” he said.

  It didn’t give him arrest powers in Mexico, either, but Eddo wasn’t about to say that. “Of course,” he replied. “I can only request your help in the event that Gomez Mazzo docks here.”

  Wibley frowned. “And you say your government has credible evidence to suggest this, uh, criminal is coming here.”

  “Yes.” Eddo came as close to grinding his teeth as he’d ever done. They’d gone over this three times already. Eddo’s English was getting the most practice since he’d left college but he was having a tough time with the British accent, a legacy of Antigua and Barbuda’s former Commonwealth affiliation. “We have reason to believe he docked at Falmouth Harbor Marina at least once before.”

  Wibley nodded. Touched the copy of the warrant again with a fingertip. Eddo had a powerful memory of Bernal Paz recoiling from the warrant for Hugo’s banking records.

  “Yachts from all over the world enjoy the security and beauty of Antigua’s facilities,” Wibley said. He was a handsome, dark-skinned man in his mid forties with short graying hair. Classic fashion was obviously a secondary consideration in paradise; the minister’s outfit of blue polyester sport shirt, yellow tie, and checkered sports coat reminded Eddo of a Sabado Gigante game show host.

  “I would appreciate your assistance in getting the docking records from the marina authorities,” Eddo said. “And have your defense forces ready to detain and turn him over to Mexican authorities should he come to Antigua.”

  “Antigua and Barbuda is known for its discretion,” Wibley said. “We have to be careful not to violate the trust our guests place in our institutions.”

  “I’m sure your institutions possess the professionalism and discretion that this situation calls for,” Eddo countered.

  Wibley smiled, revealing saliva-coated white teeth. “Violation of privacy is at issue.”

  Eddo stood and walked to the wall opposite Wibley’s desk. It was covered with pictures of Wibley and various celebrities on boats showing off the man-sized fish they’d caught. Most of the celebrities were male Hollywood action stars accompanied by busty blondes. As Eddo studied the pictures with his back to Wibley he could feel the man’s attitude change from confidence to consternation. Maybe he wasn’t used to people turning their back on him or maybe there was something else going on. “This is
a request from one nation to another,” Eddo said, examining a young sci-fi star gloating over an enormous swordfish. “I’m sure Antigua would not like to cause a diplomatic incident. Should this criminal dock here, after this official request has been made, with a warrant that shows that Gustavo Gomez Mazzo has been a wanted man in Mexico for more than six years, and Antigua does not render assistance . . .”

  Eddo turned and smiled at Wibley.

  The minister stood and set Fonseca’s paperwork on the edge of the desk, clearly wanting Eddo to take it back. “I’ll have to consult with my government to see if your request for the docking records is in keeping with the law. Could you stop by tomorrow at this time?”

  It was the Antigua and Barbuda equivalent of come back in 15 minutes. Eddo got the same reception in the office of the commandant of the Antigua and Barbuda Defense Force. From the way the major who deigned to talk to him mouthed platitudes like privacy for our guests and trust in our institutions, it was clear that Wibley had been on the phone as soon as Eddo had left his office. The major threw in a nice twist, however, claiming that the Defense Forces only had jurisdiction if a crime had actually been committed in Antigua and Barbuda.

  It was mid afternoon and the sun was smiling down as Eddo got out of his rental car. It was just breezy enough for him to be comfortable in khakis and a short-sleeved shirt and sunny enough to need his Ray-Bans. Antigua was pristine and panoramic and across the straits Barbuda was probably pretty much the same. The scene was beautiful wherever he looked, with a cobalt sky and beaches that made him want to see Luz stretched out naked, her skin caramel against the white sand, her hair wet and tangled like la sirena.