Death of a Nationalist by Rebecca Pawel

wasn’t supposed to see, that he had promised not to write to her himself , but . . . the letter, not the spirit, eh, Sergeant? I tried to kid him about it a little but he clammed up. He wasn’t the confiding type.” A few weeks ago, Tejada would have disagreed with this assessment. But now, in light of Isabel, he wondered how much Paco had confided in him. “I got the impression Isabel wasn’t the sort of girl he could bring home to Mama,” García continued, still looking at the photograph. “So that’s her, huh? Well, she looks worth the pay. Do you suppose that blond is natural?”
    “How do you know he was sending her his pay?” Tejada asked, ignoring the superfluities.
    “When a man hands you a roll of bills at the end of each month, the day after we all get paid, you usually assume it’s pay,” García pointed out logically.
    “García, this is ridiculous,” Sergeant de Rota broke in emphatically. “Corporal López sent his pay to his parents, as do all unmarried officers.”
    “No, sir.” García shook his head. “He sent gifts to his parents. Food and suchlike. I know, because he used to tell me about them when he wrapped them up. But half his wages went to this girl, Isabel, regular.”
    Tejada’s mind was reeling under the onslaught of information. It seemed that Doña Clara’s confidence that her son was free of romantic entanglements had been misplaced. “What is Isabel’s full name?” he asked.
    García shrugged. “Toledano, I think.”
    “You think?” Tejada echoed. “But if you mailed things to her. . . .”
    “Not to her,” García corrected. “The address was poste restante to some little town in Cantabria.”
    “But it must have been addressed to someone,” Tejada protested.
    “Well, he told me the address was care of Señora Toledano,” García explained. “But the way he talked, Isabel was a señorita, not a señora.”
    “Corporal, I remind you that you are speaking of a dead man,” Sergeant de Rota said, through clenched teeth. “And any dramatic touches are in extremely poor taste. Whatever his . . . liaison . . . with this girl, there was absolutely no reason for López to send her half his salary.”
    “Very good, sir, just as you say,” García agreed, pulling himself to attention and stamping. He relaxed again immediately and cast Tejada a glance that clearly expressed his opinion of his commanding officer.
    Tejada did not normally encourage insubordination but he flashed an amused glance back. He had already sensed the tension between Sergeant de Rota and Corporal García. Given his own dislike of Rota, he was inclined to trust the corporal. He was also curious about Rota’s vehement denials that Paco was sending his pay to a girl. “Can you think of any reason for him to send this girl money, Corporal?” he asked coolly.
    “Really, Sergeant—” Rota began angrily.
    “Sir!” García saluted appreciatively. “I thought, sir, that there might be a child involved.”
    “You won’t cast slurs upon the dead, Corporal!” Sergeant de Rota’s sharp voice cut across Tejada’s meditations. “And that’s an order. Or do you care to face charges of insubordination?”
    “I beg your pardon, Sergeant. He was obliged to answer my question.” Tejada’s voice was still cool and unconcerned but he had moved to stand in front of Corporal García. “Thank you, Corporal,” he added over his shoulder. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your rest.”
    Corporal García, who knew when not to push his luck, remained silent. He was wishing that he had caught the unknown sergeant’s name and wondering what the chances were of being transferred to the Manzanares post.
    Sergeant de Rota’s mustache flattened slightly as he flared his nostrils. “Do you have any other questions, Sergeant?” he asked ominously.
    “Only one.” Tejada had at least ten more questions but he too knew how far he could push his luck. He sat down on the bed and began to repack Paco’s