Ganado: a novel

by Manolo Mario

  She made a final turn and tried to walk fast, but her legs wobbled. The stroller seemed heavier than ever. She left the lady with her face contorted into a question mark. The lady didn’t stay in place and with a shrug she moved on in the other direction. Her errand completed, she could now move on with her life.

  Time passed as Esperanza walked aimlessly through the sidewalks of La Habana. On this Sunday many people strolled the sidewalks, so she was not out of place. However, greetings were not answered and even the compliments on the little girl were not acknowledged. She was desperate in her situation. The letter weighed in her bag and she was torn between burning the letter or opening the envelope and reading it. She had convinced herself more than a year and a half ago to forget about Jordi. Her mother implored her to forget and move on; she knew better and how she should put her feelings away and do as she was told. She could not comprehend how in such a short amount of time her whole world had changed. She left her love, her home, and even her country for an ogre of a man all because her mother told her so. Esperanza’s own fears and ignorance led her to the current condition. If the information came to light, it would be her death sentence at the hand of the ogre. And what about her daughter? Was she in danger, she thought? Certainly, Miguel would not harm a child, would he?

  Chapter 18

  La Habana grew with people coming and going all the time. The streets were busy and with such activity, the need to keep the peace was pressing. Lieutenant Miguel Santiesteban advanced in his position. He took on additional duties to quell another rise in crime. He had the mind to employ his own team to interject with the local robbers and move them out of the city altogether. Pablo and Leo handled the situation in their own manner. Criminals that disappeared without a trace were not a problem to be solved by the authorities. More importantly, the new territory allowed him to expand his protection revenue. As opposed to his normal beat and the difficulties encountered there, this area of the city had been so ravaged by crime that merchants and residents paid for protection without any thought or complaint. These solid payments allowed him to pay Pablo and Leo and still have plenty left over for his growing diversions.

  He grew to love the cigars and the rum and the mulatas at Lulu’s. With the new money, he could indulge more frequently and his urges were not restricted to a particular time. And he took full advantage of it. Despite complaining to Lulu about the prices, she shrugged and said her girls were worth it. Santiesteban tried to be rough with her, but when she pointed out there were more important ‘officials’ in her house, he backed off. Lulu, ever the astute businesswoman, did agree to keep him at a special rate.

  The tide for Santiesteban changed more quickly for the good than he would have thought possible after his fateful first day. As crime came to a stop in the new area, Captain Gonzalez praised Santiesteban in front of the force. The commendation gave him a little more leverage with the men, but he still had a long way to go. His life became more peaceful at home, as well. It was organized, his girl grew and became more responsive to him, and overall he was without burdens. He went to church once a month and found it to be a good thing with the other cops. Perhaps his wife was useful, after all.

  In this state of mind Santiesteban approached a new day. He knew it brought promises of good things. He arrived at the station and greeted the sergeant, who still didn’t trust him. He approached the board to check in and read the bulletins, when Luis Arroyo called to him.

  “Lieutenant, the Captain would like to see you right away.”

  He followed Luis into the Captain’s office.

  The Captain smiled and waved him to a seat. “Good morning, Santiesteban! I hope all is fine with you today.”

  “Good morning, sir. You wanted to see me? Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Yes, of course. Look, you’ve done a great job in a short period of time for which I am grateful. I know you don’t have a squad or an arm, but it will come in time. In the meanwhile, I have a delicate situation that is different than what you have done before. I would like to see if you assert some of your authority and logic to fix it.”

  “Well, thank you for your confidence, sir. I do want a squad and I feel vulnerable without a gun, so I would truly appreciate the day I receive both. In any case, what would you like me to do?”

  “I have been made aware there are some problems arising from the tenement quarters in the old section of town. Apparently, there are immigrants that are not settling appropriately. They are fighting and stealing from each other and generally disturbing the peace. Since you speak their language and have been here a short time, perhaps you can get them to settle down. Many are in transit to other countries and may not have a concern about what happens here. Make them understand that they need to keep the peace until they leave. The assignment should take a day or two at the most. Also, while they will not be your squad, take a couple of the men with you. Let’s call it your temporary squad. These things can get a little difficult.”

  Santiesteban agreed and stood, bearing to this new assignment. He picked a couple of cops, Andres and Ricardo, who were lounging around and commanded them to follow him.

  ***

  It took a half hour to reach the tenements and the three of them paused to look around and get a feel for the four-story buildings. At mid-morning, the smell of fried food overrode the senses. Clothes hung from every balcony and every line that crisscrossed the buildings. Voices could be heard everywhere, but with no distinct tone. Every few steps a voice would be raised, but one could not determine if it was a husband and wife thing or a real argument that would lead to further problems. Santiesteban and the men decided to walk around and make their presence visible. In this manner, it would deter anyone from making trouble.

  They first met an older couple from Leon who were waiting for their passage to Mexico. They expected the ship to arrive in three days time. They would go to join their son in Vera Cruz. Elsewhere, a group of children kicked a ball on a dirt lot. Many people passed by when two men stopped their conversation and eyed the cops closely. Santiesteban smiled, thinking these men were up to something. He gave them an intimidating, “Good morning.” The greeting was returned with a tip of their hats and a half bow as the men quickly turned the corner. Around that corner, Santiesteban stopped with his men as a woman with a thermos approached offering them coffee. They gave their thanks and decided to sit on the curb and drink their coffee quietly.

  Half a block further on, an alley opened to their right and Santiesteban asked the men to be a little more adventurous and follow him through the alley. Based on his own experience, he knew certain elements occupied these alleys and they may run into something. Most apartments had open windows and the echoes were distorted. Amidst the indefinable noise, Santiesteban decided to stop with his men to catch his breath from the day’s growing heat. One particular overheard conversation caught his attention.

  “I tell you, it is the same guy!” said one.

  “No, you are wrong. This guy has a beard and he is thinner,” said the second voice.

  “It is! I can tell by the walk and his talk. I won’t forget the voice. The guy’s an animal!”

  Andres and Ricardo were attentive to the Lieutenant and his focus on the voices. He had his head turned so as to point his ear to the sounds.

  The second voice continued, “Well, if it is the same person, we need to get away sooner. I thought he was in jail or even killed.”

  The first voice came back to life, “Jail or killed? Are you kidding me? People like that have protectors and what an embarrassment for the authorities.”

  Until this point Lieutenant Santiesteban felt sure he was listening to a plan for a crime. The last phrase brought a new concern that never before entered his mind. As he processed the words, he became more cognizant of the accent and the tone of the men speaking. They were from Barcelona. Andres and Ricardo looked at each other and shrugged.

  Voice one continued, “When I saw him come around the co
rner, I thought I was going to die. He said ‘good morning’ and I felt my stomach turn. I don’t know how I kept my breakfast in and tipped my hat.”

  Voice two added, “Do you think the police in Barcelona worked a deal with the police in La Habana to get the guy here?”

  Abruptly, Santiesteban’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “What was the guy’s name? Verges, wasn’t it?” continued voice one.

  Voice two chuckled and added, “I don’t think so.” Continuing to chuckle, “Hey, if it is the guy, do you think he knows his wife’s daughter came from that other guy?”

  The words struck the Lieutenant like a knife through his gut. No longer could Santiesteban stand to hear them. He yelled at the general direction of the voices. “You sons of bitches are going to pay!” And he ran back down the alley to the street from where he originated.

  ~~~

  Ricardo and Andres looked at each other thoroughly confused. Then it hit them at the same time: the two people speaking must’ve been talking about the Lieutenant. Of course, he came from Barcelona as well, but his name is not Verges. But, if it were his name, his wife cheated on him. Both pointed fingers at each other somewhat laughing and in perfect harmony sang, “He is a tarrù 20!”

  After reaching the end of the alley, they searched through several blocks to look for the Lieutenant, but could not locate him. Ricardo and Andres waited, but decided to get back to the station. There had been no disturbances except for the Lieutenant’s screaming rant as he ran out of the alley.

  ~~~

  Santiesteban ran out of the alley and returned to his left around the block to find an entrance to the building where he assumed the voices originated. He entered the building out of breath and as red as a beet. He tried to remember what the two men looked like; what they were wearing. He went up and down the hall listening for voices and asking anyone he saw about the two men. Despite his haste, he started to realize he didn’t know from which floor the voices originated. All the windows in the building were open and the voices echoed in the alley. It could have been the second or the third floor. He needed to look and so he climbed the first flight. A few steps into the hall, he stopped quietly to let his breathing settle and to see if he could hear the voices from the inside. There were too many conversations going on at the same time.

  In this moment, he reflected and became struck with another panic. Perhaps there were other immigrants from Barcelona in this building. Could they, like the other two men, recognize him if they saw him? Yes, he had lost weight and grown a beard. He even changed his name, but he could not be sure. Perhaps the two men he heard were in transit and would leave soon without a word. He tried to remember again what they looked like, but they were a blur in his mind. Two non-descript individuals at a corner tipping their hats, how could anyone remember? But he wanted to talk to them. He needed to talk to them. What was this story about the child not being his? Why would they be saying that about his princess?

  The fear of further recognition overwhelmed him and so was the thought that the other two cops would relay the complete story to the men. What had they heard? What would they tell the sergeant?

  It didn’t take long for him to catch the subtle grin from the men at the station. More vividly the sergeant of the guard shook his head with a ‘tatata’ being mouthed. Santiesteban was apprehensive. What had the other two cops said? Would they disclose that he was not who he said he was? Did they tell the sergeant there was trouble in Barcelona? Or, worst yet, did they tell the sergeant that his wife cheated on him?

  Sergeant Garcia approached the Lieutenant with a hand over his heart. “Santiesteban, I was all wrong about you. You are a decent man. The fact that you have been feeding and taking care of a bastard child is truly commendable.”

  Among the laughter of the men on the floor, three of them grabbed Santiesteban to prevent him from going after Sergeant Garcia. He calmed and they let go. He then left the station to drink his problem away.

  ***

  The next morning Santiesteban was more livid as he walked away from his apartment. He had gone to Lulu’s to drink and to hang with the whores and partake of their activities. For the first time he stayed late at Lulu’s and had to pay a heavy price. He went to his apartment wanting satisfaction and woke Esperanza with his belt. In his drunken rage, he swung too hard, missed, and fell to the floor inebriated and incapacitated. Esperanza stepped over him and left with the baby.

  At the moment, his head pounded, he felt nauseous and could not think. Or he could not stop thinking of how the previous day started so well, but turned so wrong. The news of the last day, the betrayal, the denouncement, and the disrespect of colleagues were weighing him down heavily.

  He walked out of the building looking more like a stumbling drunk, though he stopped drinking hours ago. Maybe something would settle him. He needed something for the pounding in his ears, which served to remind him of the fool he played to his wife. These thoughts began to fester and anger him further. Though he couldn’t quite remember, the lesson he offered last evening wasn’t enough. He needed to make sure she felt his wrath for years to come. Where were they? They could not have gone far. They will have to come back.

  He could kill her. Make it look like an accident, but it would be letting her off easy. She needed to feel the torment he now lived with. She would need to be tortured physically and mentally everyday until he felt she was good to die. And die she would by his hand at the right time, in the right way, without remorse or repercussions.

  And what of the bastard girl, the one who carried his name? The one he adored since her birth; the one who smiled at her ‘daddy.’ His love for her turned into an acrid taste that seemed to come from a gut punch he never expected. He felt a deep sense of hate and disgust. How could someone that grew to be his primary reason to exist suddenly become a source of such pain? The thought made him sicker than sick. What had been the light of his eye, the beauty of beauties, and the dream of dreams was now a torturing demon; someone to constantly remind him of the fool he played. She had to go, too.

  Greater confusion crept in. He couldn’t keep Esperanza alive and tortured. The girl would be there the whole time stabbing and eating at his anger. There needed to be an accident, perhaps a boat, a drowning. She could be lost overboard. After all, this was an island surrounded by water. Santiesteban felt confusion, disgust, indecisiveness, more anger, and panic. Just then a jagged pain struck his left temple and he had to grab the wall to gain his balance. The sun was hot and the heat made things worse. He paused for what seemed like an eternity until the pain subsided.

  He regained his stride and opted to stop at La Sirena for a cold beer to see if it would help. As he turned the corner heading for his rounds, the thoughts started over again. One by one, each item worked its way into deep resentment and the headache prevailed.

  * * *

  20 Tarru literally means horned. In English, a cuckold would be the proper translation.

  Chapter 19

  It had been two days since Esperanza took refuge at the neighbors without Santiesteban knowing her whereabouts. He looked, but could not locate her. He knocked at every door in the building, but no one offered insight on the location of the woman and the girl. He wanted to give her more pain to equal how he felt. Work was unbearable as the subtle chuckles continued. He forced himself to get to his beat and refused to meet with Pablo and Leo, who signaled readily as agreed.

  ‘What a shitty day it is. Hot, humid, and having to deal with these colonial idiots who think they have a country. Why am I not in Spain?’ The reasons all drilled deeper in his brain? The insolence of those shopkeepers who insulted him dug in. He did not expect the guy would hit his head hard on the floor and die.

  Though it was the third straight day, he wanted to find company at night, but he did not have the money. This made him even more desperate and he struggled for solutions. Where was his fortune?

  It popped in his mind, perhaps one of his benefactors could be s
cared into changing his arrangement and provide assistance early. He couldn’t ask for assistance. If so, he would lose the fear that dictated his command over these disgusting remnants of former Africans and deported Spaniards unworthy of their realm. With bile in his throat, he went about his task to find more money.

  It occurred that it was around two in the afternoon and many of his patrons were closed or out. The pain stabbed at him again. There were no solutions to be had. The odor drew his attention to the sign for Matadero El Sol. Perhaps they could provide an answer. Sure, they had money. Maybe some beef would serve as better than payment for services. Yes, that would do!

  He rapped with his nightstick, turned the knob on the large door and pushed the door open. The smell of the place made him gag for a moment. It had not been that way before. It must be his headache and current constitution. Much to his surprise, the place was quiet; much different than the other visit. That one was earlier in the day when the enterprise operated with full energy to meet the day’s production. He looked right, left, and then right again.

  With a pink mop in hand Fefo, a black plant worker walked up, “Oh, it’s you, constable. I heard the door and thought it was some beggar.”

  “Constable? I am a lieutenant, you African imbecile! I should pound that into you, if I had the time. So, where is your master?”

  “My master? My father fought for Cuba and I am a free man. Who do you want?”

  “Why you insolent shit for brains. Where is your boss?”

  “They’re gone for the day. We are cleaning to get ready for tomorrow.”

  “Well, who is here?

  “Oh, Señor Alonso is in the office upstairs, working his papers.”

  “I’ll go and talk to him. Perhaps he has part of his brain working.”

  Finished, he gave Fefo a shove and strode up the stairs. Fefo lifted his mop, but set it down as the cop climbed the steps.