A Corpse for Cuamantla

by Harol Marshall

  "For me, Maestra?" he asked.

  "Maybe," she said, "if you wear it between your teeth and dance a tango."

  "I will, Señorita, if I can dance that tango with you." Miguel took her in his arms as if her were about to dance her around the classroom.

  Anna raised an eyebrow and reached over his shoulder to hand the rose to María. "For you, Maestra," she said, "to remind you on our trip that you are surrounded by people who love you."

  María began to cry, hardly the effect Anna intended.

  Juan stepped over and put his arms around her. "The Maestra is correct," he soothed. "You're with your friends. Now, let's head out, shall we? Is everyone ready?"

  "Sí, Maestro." Miguel saluted, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Tomás Bello is driving his car and three teachers are traveling with him. They're waiting to follow us. Two cars left earlier, so you and I, Juan, are left to ride with the pretty Maestras."

  "We're glad you're joining us," María said, wiping her eyes.

  "Two women alone shouldn't travel the roads between here and Zocatlo. Pedro told me many times about the banditos. We're counting on you for protection."

  The men responded predictably as the four straggled across the courtyard to María's car. Miguel hung back slightly and touched Anna's arm. "How did everything go with the Commander?" he whispered.

  "Fine. What do you want to know?"

  "What were his conclusions?"

  "That Francisco Sanchez and his friends murdered Pedro. I know you disagree, but frankly, I'm inclined to think the Commander is right. He's on his way to Francisco's house right now to place him under arrest."

  "Maybe that's the way matters would proceed in your country, Maestra," Miguel said somberly, "but I don't think it's what will happen here."

  "We're leaving without you two." María called from the passenger seat of her red Volkswagon where Juan was comfortably ensconced behind the wheel. He doesn't waste any time, Anna thought, climbing into the back seat with Miguel.

  "Not much room back here, Maestra," Miguel teased quietly. "I believe I'll enjoy this trip. Which reminds me, there is a matter I want to discuss with you later. When we have more time. Perhaps tonight in Zocatlo?"

  "Of course, Miguel. How long is our trip today?"

  "We'll be traveling through some mountainous regions. Zocatlo is in the northern part of the State of Vera Cruz. Pedro's village is just outside the city of Perote about a half hour this side of Xalapa, a beautiful city with much culture and learning. The Athens of Mexico, but it's also very romantic like Paris or Rome. Have you been to Xalapa, Maestra?"

  "Not yet," Anna said, "but it's on my list."

  "No? Well, good. Perhaps some weekend in the near future I can take you there and show you the sights. We can catch a bus directly from Apizaco and leave on a Friday after school. In addition to seeing the beautiful city, we can visit a majestic waterfall a short trip away, the Texolo waterfall. Not Niagara Falls but splendid in its own right. You'd enjoy seeing it."

  "I would, Miguel." Two waterfall invitations in one day, she thought, this must be some kind of record.

  "You're starting to sound like a tour guide," Anna teased, "but I'm enjoying your commentary."

  "Thank you, Maestra. I was beginning to worry I might be boring you."

  "You're only boring us," Juan said.

  María turned around and smiled at Miguel. "Speak for yourself, Juan. I'm happy for the distraction."

  "Not a problem, Maestra," Miguel grinned into Juan's rearview mirror. "We'll be traveling by another large volcano, Anna, the Cofre de Perote. It's a broad shield volcano unlike our Malinche, which is an eroded stratovolcano with its pointed peak and canyons. I know all this you see, because I teach sixth grade." The three teachers laughed, touching off a discussion over the knowledge they've acquired as a result of teaching grade level material.

  "I can't compete with you two," María said, "I've never taught anything beyond first grade, but at some point I may challenge you both to a handwriting match."

  Anna was happy to see María loosening up. Juan seemed to bring her out of herself with his nurturing manner. She hoped María would wake up and realize how much Juan loved her. He would make a far better husband than Pedro ever could, but love was funny, who could predict it?

  Thinking about the Commander's trip to Cuamantla, Anna realized that if Francisco and his friends weren't guilty, Juan might become a suspect. He certainly had motive and her video placed him inside the school before the parade, near the time of Pedro's death. She liked Juan and felt he wasn't capable of killing Pedro or ransacking her house, no matter how strong his feelings for María, but love drove people to all kinds of crazy acts. She remembered the Commander's words about the right circumstances. Perhaps she should stop ruling out everyone she liked, although she was certain Juan hadn't broken into her house. She noticed his cologne when she got into the car. It wasn't familiar.

  "You look troubled, Anna. Is anything wrong?" Miguel reached over and took her hand.

  "I'm not sure, Miguel. I can't stop thinking about my video. I hope the Commander is correct. I know you disagree with his conclusions and I trust your judgment, but I'm experiencing a lot of anxiety about the day ahead."

  "Trust me, Maestra," Miguel said, "you've nothing to worry about. You're with friends."

  Chapter 47

  Cortez removed his jacket and glanced at the circular clock mounted on the back wall of his office. A replica of the Aztec calendar, the timepiece read twelve fifty-three. He managed to return to Tlaxcala earlier than expected. Perhaps a leisurely lunch and an early evening lay ahead of him after all, if he could wrap up Francisco's arrest papers in the next hour or so. The trio stood in the doorway behind him. Cortez motioned them to chairs in the reception area and indicted he would be with them shortly.

  Slinging his jacket over the back of his chair, he stood in front of his desk sifting through the pile of messages left by his secretary. One note in particular caught his attention and he placed a call to the squad room downstairs. The speaker at the other end of the line gave him a name and telephone number from Agent Morelos, the lead agent in the Commander's homicide group. Cortez dialed the operator requesting a priority call to the Mexico City number.

  The District detectives worked faster than he expected. Francisco's two friends were already in custody. The police in Mexico City could be efficient when it served their purposes despite their reputation, which he knew to be well deserved. Hanging up the phone, Cortez sat and reviewed his conversation with his D.F. counterparts before returning to his nervous visitors. Francisco's hands fidgeted in his lap. Across from him, his father and the Municipal President whispered to each other, neither noticing when Cortez entered the room.

  "Excuse me," he said, startling them. "You need to follow me downstairs to be fingerprinted, Francisco. The technicians are waiting. There's no need for everyone to come," Cortez told Arnulfo and the President when they rose from their chairs, "this will only take a few minutes."

  Ten minutes later, the Comandante and Francisco returned with two officers in tow. Cortez invited everyone into his office for the interrogation, which he referred to as an interview. Thanks to the Commander's high rank he rated one of the larger offices and no one felt crowded despite the addition of extra chairs commandeered from the reception area.

  Cortez preferred to conduct business on his own turf rather than use the basement interrogation rooms downstairs, particularly in cases like this where relationships were highly personalized. People talk more openly when they feel safe and comfortable, a lesson he felt many of his colleagues needed to learn.

  José Cortez addressed the anxious young man softly, "Francisco, my boy, I'll be asking you to explain the circumstances of your involvement in the death of Pedro García. Your responses will be recorded. Please be accurate and include as many details as you can remember."

  The room fell silent as Francisco recounted the relationship between his sister and Ped
ro García, the grief and humiliation this caused his family and the decision by Diego and Francisco to frighten the Director in order to avenge the family's honor. Diego, he said, arrived in Cuamantla with a friend from Mexico City, Raúl Baez, who would threaten the Director into paying protection money. They had the day off from work and knew they would find Pedro García at school on a fiesta day.

  Early that morning, Francisco said, the pair arrived at his house and the three young men walked over to the school arriving about 9:30. They hung around the zócolo waiting for their opportunity. When they noticed Pedro duck into the rose garden at the side of the school, they started to follow. Instead, one person after another entered the rose garden, each one returning without Pedro.

  A short time later, Diego and Raúl went into the rose garden to confront the Director. Francisco's role was to stand guard at the entrance and discourage anyone else from entering. After a few minutes, Francisco heard Diego calling him. He walked to the back of the garden where he found the two standing over the dead body of Pedro. Francisco recoiled in anger at what he thought they'd done, but Diego calmed him saying the Director was already dead when they arrived. Raúl searched the Director's pockets and discovered the wallet, which he stole in order to compensate himself for the long trip to Cuamantla and for getting involved in a murder. Immediately afterward the three left the area. Diego and Raúl caught the next taxi to Apizaco and from there they took the first bus back to Mexico City. Francisco claimed to have heard nothing from them since.

  "You found Maestro García dead, but you never reported his death to the officials, or told your parents," Cortez said, waiting for a response.

  "Sí, Comandante. We knew if we reported it we might be charged with the murder. Also, Raúl stole the Director's wallet, so . . ."

  "I see, go on."

  "That's all I have to say," Francisco stated apologetically. "I'm sorry you only have my word, but if you contact Diego and Raúl, they will tell you the same story because it is the truth."

  Cortez rocked back in his chair appraising the youth.

  "The District police in Mexico City arrested Diego and Raúl a short while ago," he announced almost casually, measuring Francisco's reaction, "and it seems they tell nearly the same story."

  "Nearly?" Francisco asked, emboldened by the Commander's patient demeanor. "Their story as you call it should be identical to mine since it is the truth."

  "As a matter of fact," José acknowledged, pausing to allow the impact of his words to sink in, "if your stories matched exactly, I would be less inclined to believe you." Cortez paused again, uncharacteristically puzzled about what to do next.

  "We're finished, then?" Arnulfo asked, obviously relieved. "You believe my son is telling the truth and we can all go home? I told you he was a good boy, that he couldn't have been involved in this murder. We could have saved much time if you listened to me earlier," he turned accusingly to the Commander then remembered the favor he wanted and retreated, "if you will pardon my saying so, Comandante. We all know it's important for the police to perform their duties thoroughly in order to avoid mistakes, and we appreciate the care you have given to this investigation..."

  Cortez interrupted him. "You are two steps ahead of me, Señor. The fact that I am inclined to believe your son is not proof of his innocence. At this point in our investigation, we have incontrovertible evidence that your son, along with Diego and Raúl, was among the last persons to have seen Pedro García. The assumption we have to make is that García was alive at the time. Until we collect more evidence or discover another perpetrator, we'll have to keep Francisco under house arrest."

  "What does house arrest mean?" Francisco asked looking up from the floor.

  "It means you will not be allowed to return home with your parents. I'm requesting the Municipal President take you into his custody. You can stay at his home and under his supervision until I send word otherwise. Will you agree to this, Señor?"

  "Sí." The Municipal President nodded his assent.

  Arnulfo groaned and quietly mumbled to himself. "This will cost me many pesos that I don't have. I can hear them adding up, one by clinking one." He studied the floor, still talking to himself. "I don't know what to say. My son is innocent. The police should let him go home while they work to find the real murderer."

  Commander Cortez glanced at Arnulfo in surprise, having assumed he would appreciate his son's return to Cuamantla rather than going to jail. "You have a problem, Señor?"

  Con permiso," Arnulfo said. "It is only that I need my son to work in the fields. This is a busy time of the year for us and his absence will cost me much."

  "That can be worked out," Cortez said with a trace of agitation, "but, if I receive word that Francisco has stepped foot anywhere but in your fields, or the house of the President, I will return him immediately to a Tlaxcala jail cell until this affair is over. Do you understand me?" He glanced sternly from father to son and back again.

  "Sí," they answered in unison.

  Cortez reminded everyone that Francisco was not yet out of the woods. "I'll contact you if any new evidence turns up," he said, addressing the two older men. "You're free to leave."

  Cortez returned his chair to its rightful place behind the desk and placed his athletic build squarely in its center.

  The three men from Cuamantla leaned across the desk to shake the Commander's hand murmuring their thanks, while the two police officers exited quietly through the rear door of the Commander's office, whispering words to the effect that when this genial man ran out of patience, it was not a pretty sight.

  Chapter 48

  Francisco and his father left the Commander's office, but the Municipal President stayed behind asking to speak privately with Cortez about another matter.

  "Yes, no problem," Cortez said, motioning the President to close the door so they could talk in private. "What's this about?"

  "Thank you for hearing me out, Comandante. I discovered an embarrassing problem yesterday morning, which I have shared with no one." He paused, and Cortez waited for the next shoe to drop. "A theft occurred in my office yesterday. The Real Cédula is missing and I'm worried someone might accuse me of taking it, which is why I want to report it to the police before telling the officials in my village. Also, I'm not exactly certain when it was stolen. The last time I can attest to its presence was day before yesterday, in the afternoon when I showed it to several education officials visiting my village for the fiesta."

  Cortez sighed. "Ah, now I see why you agreed to accompany Señor Sánchez to Tlaxcala today. Yes, I'm willing to help, especially since I'm already involved in one crime in Cuamantla, but let me remind you. Do not allow Sr. Sánchez to pay you for your time accompanying him here today or for keeping his son under guard as I've requested. I'll check and if I find you've accepted such a gratuity from that hard working family, I'll leave you to the mercy of your village officials."

  "Not a problem, Comandante," the President assured, nodding his head and shaking José's hand vigorously before turning to leave the room, "muchas gracias, Comandante."

  A dejected Cortez remained glued to his chair worrying again about the possible dangers awaiting the American Maestra in Zocatlo. The document theft was a matter for AFI, not his office. Fortunately, he had a few friends in the agency. He would need their help on this murder investigation, especially now that the theft of this Real Cédula might be related. An idea occurred to him and he hurried out of his office, walking briskly down the hall to intercept his Cuamantla trio.

  "Señores," Cortez called out to the three men before they disappeared from sight. The Municipal President heard him and backed around the corner peering uncertainly down the long dark hall.

  "Comandante?" Were you calling us?"

  "Sí, Señor," Cortez waved them back. "Please, if you will return to my office and wait a few minutes, I'll drive you back to Cuamantla." So much for a leisurely lunch, he thought to himself.

  Arnulfo's eyes lit up. He pre
ferred to leave the company of the Commander as soon as possible, but the prospect of a triumphant return to Cuamantla chauffeured by the Commander was too good to pass up. A similar thought occurred to the Municipal President and the two hurried to catch up with Cortez who strode back to his office, confident they would accept his offer. Only Francisco hesitated, but goaded by his father's stern glance, followed his elders in silence.

  Back at the reception area, Cortez explained he had another fifteen minutes of paperwork to clear up before they could leave. He pointed to magazines on the side tables and invited them to read while they waited.

  Leaving through the back door of his office, Cortez skipped down the stairs two at a time. He retrieved Anna's DVD and left orders with the secretary not to disturb him during his use of the DVD player. Ignoring her protests, he entered the room to find two young officers watching a movie one of them had rented. Cortez was so distracted by the plethora of ideas running through his head, he neglected to register any disapproval of their behavior. Relieved at this uncharacteristic behavior on the part of their Comandante, the two hurried from the room leaving their precious movie still running.

  Cortez popped out the disk and replaced it with Anna's. He grabbed a pen and paper from the desk, and fast-forwarded the DVD to the spot where Pedro could be seen walking behind the school. Continuing to fast forward, Cortez wrote down the names and/or descriptions of each person coming and going from the rose garden until he reached the place on the DVD where Diego and his friends entered the scene. Stopping to catch his breath, Cortez reviewed the list. The last two people to see Pedro prior to Diego and his friends were Yolanda and Tomás Bello, and before them, Miguel.

  If Miguel and Francisco were telling the truth, then the DVD evidence pointed to either Yolanda or Tomás Bello or both. Perhaps they plotted to do away with Pedro or more likely tried to blackmail him, a ploy that might have gone awry. If Yolanda and Bello had found Pedro dead, they would have reported the matter. What troubled him was not only the list of people entering and leaving the rose garden, but those who came and went from inside the school, none of whom he recognized.