City Beasts
Page 21
“Yes, one left.” And he sold the captain the murder weapon, which, he was pretty sure, would soon be eaten.
It was late by the time the captain had cleared everything up and come to Casa Pampi for his txangurro with his lieutenant and his chorizo.
* * *
Pampi! Kaixo!” He was in a very expansive mood, talking and laughing and eating. By the time they finished their spider crab, Pampi had no more customers. But the Ertzaintza were drinking Rioja Alavesa Reserva and followed the crab with broiled garlicky bixugos and then ordered steak with roasted peppers.
The other customers were all gone and the kitchen cleaned, so Pampi sent the staff home and cooked for the two himself. After the steaks, they ordered cheese and brandy and took out large Cohiba cigars from Cuba.
“You know, Pampi,” said Jenaro, puffing yellow smoke from his cigar. “It’s amazing that for all that mayhem only two people died.”
“Three.”
“Ah, but Ander was one of them,” said the captain a little too defensively. “Too bad about the colonel, though.”
“Yes, a tragedy,” said Pampi, and the two enjoyed their moment of insincerity together.
Frustrated, Pampi paced his empty dining room and back to the kitchen and then quickly back to the table. “My friend, I promised to help you if I could.” The captain and the lieutenant looked up with perplexed expressions.
“Come with me.” He led them to a back window in the kitchen. There was an odd tin-can sound outside, and when they looked out the window they saw a bear going through the garbage.
“A bear?”
“When did you last see a bear? Don’t you know that bears are extinct in Basque country?”
“I thought they hibernated in the winter,” said the lieutenant.
The captain paused for a minute and then his face became animated again. “Begoña,” he said in a harsh whisper. He phoned his headquarters and said, “I have just spotted Begoña in a bear suit going through the trash behind Casa Pampi. I’m going to try to hold her, but send me help.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“How do you know it’s not a real bear?”
“Don’t you know the bears are extinct? And they hibernate in the winter!”
“Right.”
“Yeah, Begoña’s so smart. She didn’t think I would know that,” said Jenaro.
Pampi told him not to pay the bill, which he had expected, and he grabbed his red beret and his long chorizo and charged down the stairs. He sent the lieutenant for a shotgun.
He was not going to engage Begoña until the lieutenant or men from the station got there with larger weapons. The bear looked up from the garbage and studied the captain. Jenaro grew nervous and drew his pistol. The bear studied him. He grew more nervous.
“Don’t move, Begoña, or I’ll fire.” He wondered where to aim, since the bear costume was obviously much larger than she was. Or was it? According to some rumors, Begoña was a giant.
The bear started moving cautiously toward the captain and he fired a warning shot in the air. But it made only an odd click and then he remembered that he had fired all the rounds in the clip. The bear came up to him and stood on his hind legs, easily more than a head taller than the captain, and growled and showed large yellow teeth.
This was one of those split seconds that took a very long time. The first thing the captain realized was that this was not Begoña. This was a real bear.
The next thing he realized was that he was about to die.
They would find the bag and the money, and his wife and son would get no pension. But maybe not, because most of the men under him were bright enough to just keep the money for themselves.
He remembered that he had stuck the chorizo in his belt like a battle saber, so in a last desperate attempt he drew it out and poked it at the bear. A chorizo, he realized, did not make much of a weapon.
The bear swatted at the chorizo and knocked it out of his hand. He bent over and put it in his mouth and, having at last gotten what he came for, the bear quickly trotted out of town.
* * *
Pampi gathered up the dishes from the policemen and put them in the kitchen sink and quickly went to the side room. The crabber was still there. The crabber removed his chef’s toque and let long raven-black hair flow to her shoulders. Pampi put his arms around her and said, “Begoña.” They kissed the kind of kiss that has been waited for a very long time and then, arm in arm, went up the back stairs to an apartment Pampi kept over the restaurant. Slipping out of their clothes, they made love for what was left of the night and then fell asleep at daybreak, woke up in the early afternoon and made love again. It was time for her to leave, but it wouldn’t be difficult. No one expected her to still be in town. She had robbed a bank and assassinated the Policía Nacional colonel. The Ertzaintza could not help being a little miffed when they stated that they were the first ones at the scene of the bombing and the Policía Nacional said no, that their Colonel Gallego was there first.
According to the newspapers, in the assassination one innocent bystander was killed, José Marie Lizar, aka Marmitako, so called for the excellent marmitako that he made. No one was sure of his secret, but it was thought that he grew a special pepper and also that he may have added some patxaran.
Begoña also robbed a Kutxabank and got away with 1.835 million euros. She escaped with the money, but Captain Jenaro Anitua of the Ertzaintza bravely faced Ander Elarregui, an officer of the bank who worked with Begoña and was an expert with firearms. Elarregui was celebrated for his salmis de paloma, a secret recipe involving flamed brandy and wild mountain mushrooms. The rest of the recipe is not known, nor is the whereabouts of Begoña and the 1.835 million euros.
* * *
The next afternoon Begoña took the Basque train to Hendaye and a French train to Hasparren and hiked to the farm in the flatlands of Soule that grew corn and gave her a place to stay in a Basque-speaking community in a forgotten corner of Euskal Herria, the Land of the Basques.
Zubi Nabaroa was relieved to leave Donostia—San Sebastián of elegance and beauty and festivals. All the way back to Ituren he looked for signs of the bear but never saw him again. Neither did anyone else.
Captain Anitua of the Ertzaintza retired from service and bought a huge nineteenth-century mansion overlooking the ocean at Zarautz. He took up oil painting. His wife occasionally came back to San Sebastián for shopping sprees big enough to become a Basque legend.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mark Kurlansky is the New York Times–bestselling author of many books, including Cod, Salt, 1968: The Year That Rocked the World, The Big Oyster, The Last Fish Tale, The Food of a Younger Land, The Eastern Stars, Ready for a Brand New Beat, and the short story collection Edible Stories. He lives in New York City.
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