by C. J. Skuse
‘I thought about killing you for a while.’
‘I not doubt that,’ he said. ‘Because you wanted to stay here?’
‘Yes.’
‘I had a gut feeling I could trust you to make a different choice. You a little wiseass and you got a temper as fiery as chilate de pollo but I knew you wouldn’t betray me.’
‘I still wouldn’t.’
‘Do you still want to stay here?’
‘Yes. I do.’
He shrugged. ‘Then here you stay.’
‘Seriously? Even though I wanted to kill you?’
‘Thought and action. You thought it but you didn’t do it, even though life has given you every opportunity to do so. You have been here three months, you’ve done everything you’ve been told, you have put colour and scent back into my beautiful garden, and despite all Paco’s efforts, you haven’t stabbed him yet even though I know you want to.’
‘Yeah, I do want to do that.’
‘Well, now you have your reward. This is your home. You can stay as long as you wish.’
I couldn’t hold back my smile. ‘Thank you,’ I said as he pulled me into the safest hug. ‘There’s really no catch?’
‘No catch. But I want you to promise me that you will try and curb those… impulses of yours, especially around Paco.’
‘I still think he’s up to something. What if he’s a double agent? Like, he could be working for them and working for you? Didn’t you see Homeland? It could happen, Tenoch.’
‘Why don’t you let me worry about Paco and you worry about yourself, eh? I want you to try for a life without killing. A normal life. Maybe at some point you will want to leave here of your own accord.’
‘Is there such a thing as a “normal life” for a serial killer?’ I asked.
‘If you want it bad enough, yes. I think so.’
After that, the subject of my leaving the Hacienda didn’t come up – Tenoch kept to the contract of providing me with a brand-new passport, backstory and papers for my onward life, but it was tacitly understood that I didn’t have to leave. He trusted me and I cherished that. He even showed me his artillery.
At the back of his office was a wall covered with books. Once all the books and the bookcases were removed, the wooden panels behind became visible. Tenoch gently pressed on the panel in two separate places at the same time and the panel shifted up and out and to the left, revealing behind it a cubbyhole full to the brim with guns, knives, bullets and even hand grenades.
‘Touch the panel gently here and here,’ he reiterated, ‘two hands and the panel will slide away. But this is for emergencies only, OK? If we get any more assholes showing up here, you come in this room, lock the door and get behind this bookcase as quickly as you can. You hide in the box till I whistle. Nobody knows this is here but me and you.’
‘Not even Paco?’
‘Not even Paco.’
‘Where did you get all this from?’
‘I’ve amassed it over the years, some is army surplus; other things stolen from rival cartels. It varies.’
‘Will you teach me how to fire a gun? I’ve never done it before?’
‘You haven’t?’ I shook my head. ‘You’re missing out.’
He set about teaching me how to load and fire every piece. I practised on the empty tin cans Paco had lined up along the fence at the end of the lawn. The first time I fired a pistol, I recoiled – the sound reverberated around the whole valley, like it was ricocheting off the walls of the world.
‘Steel yourself, gatita,’ Tenoch would say. ‘It’s you or them. Two shots, aim for between the eyes and the hairline.’
‘Have you got any earplugs?’
He laughed. ‘They’re coming to get you, you’re gonna stop and find your earplugs before you fire back? Do it again. Reload.’
And I did. After several more attempts and multiple wipes of my sweaty palms on my shorts, I got quite steady with an AR-15 and a Glock 22. And I discovered that getting praise felt better than getting a shot on target. Like when Dad used to praise me. Like all the praise I got when I got stronger on my legs after rehab. I’d get paid in Sylvanians for every big milestone – walking more steps, completing a full sentence.
Tenoch didn’t do that, of course. He’d just holler ‘Good girl’ or ‘Well done’ and with practice my hold got steadier and my shot got closer to the red bullseyes he’d painted on the sides of the cans. Blandishments, compliments, hugs, carrots not sticks, worked wonders. Happiness found me again.
‘My girl’s a sharp-shooter, eh?’ he would laugh and clap when I’d hit my tenth can in a row off the fence. ‘How are you doing this?’
‘Thinking about Paco,’ I smirked, aiming again and hitting the bullseye. ‘Makes me shoot straighter.’ I fired but my shot went off course and hit one of my plants, shooting the centre of it clean out. ‘Well, it did.’
He cackled. ‘See? You’re allowing emotion to get the better of you. Killing is a business – clean, efficient, necessary. Try again.’
‘I still hate the fucker.’
‘I will tell him to leave you alone.’
I clicked the safety back on the gun and stared at the plant I had hit, still swaying in the breeze. I shot it again and it completely exploded, roots and all, out of the earth.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘I know how to handle him.’
Friday, 5 April – Hacienda Santuario
Anyone who drives a car in Mexico – complete nutters
DJs who talk over the end of the song and don’t say who sang it
Broadband providers in Mexico – it’s all shit
Celebrities who crave fame at all costs one minute, then have the cheek to ask for privacy the minute they have kids
Infomercials. They’re like the fucking mosquitoes. Everywhere.
‘Hey, gatita, that your boyfriend?’
Tenoch was at his desk in the office when I walked past, dripping wet from the pool. He turned the laptop towards me – the screen showed Sky News UK – Craig had been released from jail.
Kay Burley was outside the prison in a pink anorak, screeching down the mic in the howling wind. Jim and Elaine were there too, Tink was in Jim’s arms, wearing a little Arran knit. My heart pulsed.
‘Your old man, eh?’ said Tenoch.
‘Yeah,’ I said, moving closer to the TV.
Elaine was clutching Jim’s arm and a load of other people were standing behind them wrapped up in coats and scarves, holding up signs saying things like, Innocent of all charges and Let Him Out!
Finally, the tall heavy doors of the prison slid open and out walked Craig. The Pink Anorak went into full screech meltdown.
‘Here he comes now, this is it, this is him – Craig Wilkins finally, after so many months of agonising wait and stress for him and his family, here he comes, a free man at last!’
They got the money shot of him with his bulky plastic bag of clothes and his grey face awash with tears, trundling towards the gates and all the adoring people cheering and About Time-ing. Cut to Elaine, sobbing. Cut to Jim, biting his quivering lip. Cut to Tink, shivering in her Arran knit in Jim’s arms. Cut back to Jim saying to her, Look, there’s your daddy.
That’s what broke me, Jim calling him Daddy. And as Craig walked closer to the camera, I saw his face but he didn’t look sad. He looked… dismantled. He practically fell into Elaine’s arms and she cradled him like a large baby. Tink licked his cheek, Jim mouthed the words It’s over, It’s over, You’re safe, You’re safe. The Pink Anorak screeched on in the punishing wind.
‘Well, it’s a momentous day here where a man finally gets the justice he’s waited so long for. Craig! Can you give us a few words? How are you feeling? What’s it like to have your freedom back?’
To Craig’s credit, he didn’t say one word. Jim grabbed his hand like he was a little boy again and swerved his family away from the line of cameras, across the road, and out of sight.
And I have to admit I was jealous. Jealous of Cra
ig, of all people. Jim would protect him now like fucking Batman, like he’d protected me when he thought I was carrying their grandchild. Craig could live his life now, free of jail. Free of me. He could probably sell his story. Get a bestseller, do the talk shows. But did I still want all that? Did I wish that was me? More fame? More adoration? The Pink Anorak screeching my name?
No. That was all frilly ribbon around the gift. The gift of being able to go home now. Having a normal life. That was the gift.
The lucky bastard.
‘What is it like to see him again?’
‘I dunno,’ I said as he licked away from the screen. ‘I’m glad he’s out.’
‘You are?’
‘Yeah. I only confessed for him.’
Tenoch sat back and stared me down – an expression I couldn’t read.
‘What?’
‘You never fail to surprise me, Rhiannon.’
‘I’m not Rhiannon anymore, remember?’
‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘I keep forgetting. Those brownies I smell cooking?’
‘Yeah. I’m making some for the Chipmunks. Trying to be a better man.’
‘That’s my girl.’ He smiled with an avuncular wink.
When the oven timer sounded, I scurried downstairs to find Paco taking the smaller tray out the oven.
‘These are ours, right?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Save some for Tenoch.’
‘He won’t mind.’ He took all the brownies, piling them up high on the centre of a plate, into the living room for the boys. Some football game was on TV – they’d eaten the lot by the end of the first quarter.
Tenoch scuffed in from the office. He saw the trail of chocolate sludge left on the counter and baking tray. ‘They didn’t save me any?’
‘No,’ I said, removing a smaller tray from the top oven. ‘These are yours.’
‘Ah, you too good to us.’ He picked up one of the brownies but it was too hot so I wrapped it in kitchen roll for him. ‘Far too good to us. Thank you. Listen, we got to do our own cleaning for a little while – Celestina has left us.’
‘She’s left? Why?’
‘I don’t know. She left a note on my desk this morning, saying she had gone to work at one of the hotels in the town.’
‘Oh, right,’ I said, barely hiding my disappointment. ‘I guess that means the children won’t be coming anymore either?’
‘You guess right. I told you not to rely on them,’ said Tenoch, the brownie finally cool enough to nibble at. His face collapsed into ecstasy. ‘These are good. You are an excellent baker.’
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘So, how would you feel about taking over Celestina’s job now that she has gone? Just the basics – cleaning, vacuuming, laundry. I would pay you a wage—’
‘Yeah, that’s fine.’
Paco returned to the kitchen with a crumby plate. ‘Did you say Celestina has gone?’
‘Yeah,’ said Tenoch. ‘Found a new situation in town.’
‘Where’d she go?’ he demanded.
‘Didn’t say.’ Tenoch began tucking into his still-warm brownies.
Paco looked directly at me. ‘Because of her?’
‘No, she just has a new situation.’
‘It is, it’s because of her, isn’t it?’
‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ I said. ‘Maybe it’s something to do with you, Paco? How ’bout dat?’
Paco looked back to Tenoch who was still non-plussed and boshing his brownies, one by one.
‘She’s a broken arrow, jefe. She could talk.’
‘She won’t,’ said Tenoch.
‘You sure?’
Tenoch stopped eating, wiped his mouth and began talking to Paco in fast Spanish that I didn’t understand. Well, I understood one part of it – falta de respeto. Disrespect. And I understood Paco’s response.
‘Si, jefe.’ Yes, Boss. Tenoch was shorter than Paco, by a clear foot. Even so, Paco sort of shrank before him.
Paco sloped back towards the living room, affording me his filthiest glare yet.
Wednesday, 17 April – Hacienda Santuario
‘Hola, señorita,’ came the little voice as I was reeling up the hose on the pool terrace one evening. It was David, Celestina’s eldest, clinging to the other side of the chicken-wire fence behind the pool house.
‘Hey!’ I cried, delighted to see him until I got closer and saw his lip was cut and his face badly bruised down one side. ‘What’s happened?’
‘We have to leave town. Paco has been threatening Mama.’ He eyeballed the pool terrace.
‘It’s OK, he’s not here. He did this to you?’ A small flame ignited in the centre of my chest. ‘Where’s Celestina? What about Saúl and Mátilda?’
‘They’re OK. But we’re scared. He found out we had gone to la casa de mi tía and he followed us there. Mama took Saúl and Mátilda into the forest and I ran but he caught me and he beat me. He wanted to know where Mama was. He said he was going to kill all of us.’
‘Why? What’s his problem with her?’ The flame expanded.
‘I heard them arguing. He wanted her to break into Tenoch’s study and find a clue.’
‘What clue?’
‘A clue for where he keeps his money. Tenoch has a lot of money but it not in a bank. And Paco wants it. He was planning to steal it and cut her in. He told Mama to spy on Tenoch but she would not do it. She is scared, of both of them. I came here to warn you. Paco will hurt you to get to the money.’
‘I know, don’t worry.’ I touched his hand through the wire and he gripped my finger. ‘I’ll be OK.’
‘No, no you won’t,’ he said, starting to cry. ‘Paco is… un hijo de puta.’ He scuffed his trainer in the dirt. ‘A bad, bad man.’
Tenoch could tell my mood had dipped later that afternoon when I’d tripped over the mop bucket and hurled both mop and bucket into the pool. We went down to the beachfront again for ice cream. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about David’s visit but I knew he wouldn’t believe me and even if he did, maybe it would get David in trouble. I didn’t know what to do for the best.
An open-air tianguis was in full swing along one of the side streets – the stalls selling fruit and veg, second-hand clothes, street food sizzling away on hot griddles. A lady with a tray handed out slices of mango drizzled in tajin – a chilli sauce. Divine on every level. Brought my tongue back to life.
‘This is what it will be like for you now,’ he said as we bought our ice creams and headed for a vacant beach palapa to sit down. ‘No need to cover your face. See that vendor? He’s only giving you a second look because he thinks you’re beautiful.’
‘Am I?’
‘What?’ he said, licking the chopped nuts from his strawberry sundae.
‘Beautiful?’
‘Of course my girl is very beautiful.’
That made me feel like the sun was shining just for me – like everything there was for my happiness. The dazzling sea. The thumping musica norteña coming from the bars and souvenir shops, the rich sweet smells of the panaderia and fried camarones (shrimp) and whole pulpo (octopus) wafting up from the beach barbecue. We practised my backstory again – Where did you go to school? What job did you do up until the age of 21? What was your mother’s maiden name? – until I’d answered every question without stuttering.
‘You are ready for your new life now. Start living it.’
People walked dogs, jogged, milled about buying souvenirs and conversing with friends. The fonditas and beachfront cafés thronged with people sitting out eating some of the largest bowls of soup and stuffed tortillas I’d ever seen. I ate half of my ice cream and tossed the rest in the trash – my heartburn was biting too hard to enjoy it.
‘You are too quiet this afternoon,’ Tenoch said, as we watched a boat drift into shore and two fishermen bring in the day’s catch.
‘Am I?’ I said, stabbing at the sand with a pointy rock. One of the fishermen began cooking on a griddle on the water’s edg
e and a small crowd, mostly locals, ate them on paper plates and chatted easily. ‘Pescado zarandeado,’ Tenoch informed me. That’s what they’re eating. Grilled snapper marinated in spices and Guajillo chillies, with warm tortillas. They pay what they think it is worth.’
‘Nice.’
‘Aren’t you happy about being here anymore?’
‘Are you kidding?’ I said. ‘I love it here.’ I kept looking towards the art district and thinking about Rafael. Even though I had seen him with the girl, I still wanted him. I wanted him to appear again and ruin my life completely.
‘You have a heavy mind. What is on it?’
‘David came to the Hacienda this morning. To warn me about Paco.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He was covered in bruises. He said Paco had been threatening his mother, forcing her to search for your money. She refused.’
Tenoch nodded, but carried on nibbling his ice cream cone and watching the fishermen.
‘He beat the crap out of him, Tenoch. He’s only 11.’
Tenoch continued to stare out to sea, but still didn’t say anything.
‘They’re not safe.’
‘They will be,’ he replied, finishing his cone and wiping his hands on his jeans. He got to his feet and helped me to mine. ‘Thank you for telling me this.’
‘So you believe me?’
‘Yes, I believe he came to the Hacienda and told you that.’
‘What about David?’
His mouth twitched. ‘David’s mother was raped by Paco, this you know. Celestina has been waiting for three years to strike back at him. A serial killer who hates rapists and loves children comes to live with Paco’s boss – she thinks she has found the perfect solution. David appears with bruises – tells you it was Paco and then, like magic, no more Paco.’
‘No, that’s not it. It can’t be. The boy was black and blue, Tenoch.’
‘I do not doubt that. But are you telling me it’s not even a little convenient that he came to you this morning to “warn you”?’
‘No. I believe him.’
Tenoch laughed. ‘I pay Paco well. Why would he steal from me?’