The gun wasn’t loaded, it was just part of the scenery; you think I’d leave a loaded gun within reach of a prisoner? He lied to you. I only pointed it at him, an unloaded Colt. He probably told you that to explain why he shit in his pants. If I didn’t squeeze these guys a little, I’d never get anything. They’re all innocent, right? I still have a lot of doubt about that Mikel.”
“Well, you can get over it. There’s a witness who saw him say good night to the girl in the park, after midnight. He and the witness greeted each other. Besides, the neighbors say he had a very good relationship with Violeta.”
“So? What does that mean? They could be accomplices. He described the girl in reverse and instead of giving her last name, he gave her employer’s. As far as we know, he—or the murderer—gets to know old women, charms them, treats them well, and wins their trust so he can get inside their homes.”
“Ponce, you’ve forgotten all about being an investigator, about science, even after making such a big deal about it. There are such things as fingerprints, hair, nails, DNA. What’s under Violeta and Mikel’s nails?”
“There’s nothing under their nails. We found fingerprints from the last century and a few more recent ones. The ones on the deceased—on the leather jacket she had on, on her shoes, on the cable—don’t correspond with the prisoner’s.”
“Then why such a speedy conviction?”
“C’mon, don’t fuck with me. I’m just holding him. I’m over my seventy-two hours, but the family lawyer showed up and I was able to negotiate one more day. If I don’t get some kind of evidence by tomorrow, I’ll let him go. At 8:30 tomorrow, I have to go to the old woman’s house to see what I can get out of this so-called Beatriz. When I called to make the appointment, I tried to tell her a little story, that the prosecutor wanted us to talk to her about safety precautions for seniors. She didn’t really react at first, and then her response caught me off guard. She said she wasn’t in the least bit scared of the Old Lady Killer, that no Old Lady Killer could frighten her. She said she keeps a .22 nearby at all times, that she had it in a pocket in her skirt right then, and that she has excellent aim. Maybe it’s the old woman who’s your faggot friend’s accomplice.”
“Fuck you. You’re just making stuff up—and stop insulting Mikel. The insults aren’t going to clean your conscience. You have an innocent man in jail, and the worst part is that you’ve known it since the very beginning.”
“Excuse me, buddy, he’s a fag and a half, and that’s that.”
“Ponce, you always do the same thing when you screw up
… it’s like your blood gets thin and you stop thinking.”
“My bleeding is only because of what I call the eternal return . The eternal return is my belief that killers will go back to the scene of the crime. Even if it’s not true in 99 percent of the cases, the home of the deceased should always be watched. I proposed it in this case. ‘We don’t have the resources available’ was all I got.”
“Listen, with all that Borgian stuff I almost forgot to point out that Violeta was part of the neighborhood’s Security Commission. She got along well with the guys from the district: lemonade in the summer, coffee in the winter. If neighborhood gossip means anything to you, it is widely rumored that Violeta was Micaela’s daughter and that’s why she was her heir, and it’s possible Micaela had nieces and nephews circling Violeta like vultures.”
“What a mess! All we need now is a blind guy, like in the telenovelas. If Micaela had nieces and nephews, we’ll investigate. I’ll check in with the district. Lemonade in the summer, coffee in the winter, but those sons of bitches couldn’t figure out something was wrong, they couldn’t save their friend. This is so annoying. Chema Molina should be here any minute, we said quarter past 8, and we’re
“Well, you can get over it. There’s a witness who saw him say good night to the girl in the park, after midnight. He and the witness greeted each other. Besides, the neighbors say he had a very good relationship with Violeta.”
“So? What does that mean? They could be accomplices. He described the girl in reverse and instead of giving her last name, he gave her employer’s. As far as we know, he—or the murderer—gets to know old women, charms them, treats them well, and wins their trust so he can get inside their homes.”
“Ponce, you’ve forgotten all about being an investigator, about science, even after making such a big deal about it. There are such things as fingerprints, hair, nails, DNA. What’s under Violeta and Mikel’s nails?”
“There’s nothing under their nails. We found fingerprints from the last century and a few more recent ones. The ones on the deceased—on the leather jacket she had on, on her shoes, on the cable—don’t correspond with the prisoner’s.”
“Then why such a speedy conviction?”
“C’mon, don’t fuck with me. I’m just holding him. I’m over my seventy-two hours, but the family lawyer showed up and I was able to negotiate one more day. If I don’t get some kind of evidence by tomorrow, I’ll let him go. At 8:30 tomorrow, I have to go to the old woman’s house to see what I can get out of this so-called Beatriz. When I called to make the appointment, I tried to tell her a little story, that the prosecutor wanted us to talk to her about safety precautions for seniors. She didn’t really react at first, and then her response caught me off guard. She said she wasn’t in the least bit scared of the Old Lady Killer, that no Old Lady Killer could frighten her. She said she keeps a .22 nearby at all times, that she had it in a pocket in her skirt right then, and that she has excellent aim. Maybe it’s the old woman who’s your faggot friend’s accomplice.”
“Fuck you. You’re just making stuff up—and stop insulting Mikel. The insults aren’t going to clean your conscience. You have an innocent man in jail, and the worst part is that you’ve known it since the very beginning.”
“Excuse me, buddy, he’s a fag and a half, and that’s that.”
“Ponce, you always do the same thing when you screw up
… it’s like your blood gets thin and you stop thinking.”
“My bleeding is only because of what I call the eternal return . The eternal return is my belief that killers will go back to the scene of the crime. Even if it’s not true in 99 percent of the cases, the home of the deceased should always be watched. I proposed it in this case. ‘We don’t have the resources available’ was all I got.”
“Listen, with all that Borgian stuff I almost forgot to point out that Violeta was part of the neighborhood’s Security Commission. She got along well with the guys from the district: lemonade in the summer, coffee in the winter. If neighborhood gossip means anything to you, it is widely rumored that Violeta was Micaela’s daughter and that’s why she was her heir, and it’s possible Micaela had nieces and nephews circling Violeta like vultures.”
“What a mess! All we need now is a blind guy, like in the telenovelas. If Micaela had nieces and nephews, we’ll investigate. I’ll check in with the district. Lemonade in the summer, coffee in the winter, but those sons of bitches couldn’t figure out something was wrong, they couldn’t save their friend. This is so annoying. Chema Molina should be here any minute, we said quarter past 8, and we’re
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