factory in Tucson, here’s the address and the phone number; now kiss my balls and don’t forget Memo’s book. I’m surprised he didn’t download his report from Google. He did, but that twit of a teacher caught him. Didn’t I tell you, a knucklehead just like his dad. Okay, jerk-off, don’t step over the line, don’t start in on my family. Come on, do you really still believe he’s yours?
He left the room wanting a smoke.
At his desk he lit up.
He tried to make sense of his notes on the Palm: “cas Brun Caniz Paol sem m bod.” What is this? “Ripal aer 47. perfume, so&n Agric min,gv susp, Pao Rodrig, F aldan,p3 Yoonohoo Vald, M Kell, Saman Val, Laura, 17-46Z%&f!?tQ.” This sucker must have caught a virus. He turned it off and tossed it into the right-hand drawer. I can’t deal with technology. If Laura Frías is right, the murderer could be any of the ones she named, including Paola Rodríguez, who more than made good on her threat; let’s see, I’ve got Paola, Samantha, Mariana, Frank Aldana, Yoonohoo Valdés. The people from the USB could also have done it: Ripalda, Figueroa, Dania, and Laura herself. The way things are today, you’ve got to suspect even the guy everyone adores, and of what? Of godliness, to say the least, if not hypocrisy. They killed John Lennon, so why wouldn’t they kill this loser, no one can be on good terms with everyone, if he was, he wouldn’t have been rubbed out. Somebody new? Laura claimed to know nothing about that, but since the guy was friendly we can’t rule it out. A killer hired by the father? Motive: to win the big chair. It’s possible, why? What feelings does a man like Bruno awaken in the people around him? A sugar cube on some days, an insufferable jerk on others, according to Beatriz, affectionate with children, good lover, good friend; I should talk to his mother, since he called her to tell her he was happy.
A human being is so many things. Crime of passion, vengeance? The suspects so far fit the bill, except it was a bullet to the head and no sign of struggle; such respect for the body and the immediate surroundings indicates something else, no profanation, and what about the silver bullets? And the fragrance? Was there ever a murderer around here who used silver bullets? He did not know. I have to call Tucson. Every killer is sendinga message, what’s this one’s? What is he trying to prove? Who is he defying? He lit another cigarette. Society? The police? Did he own something? Land, houses, works of art? Did he have a will?
Zelda came in with a Diet Coke: Want some? It rusts my insides. He called Tucson.
After two female voices, he was put through to Mr. Gary Cooper, general manager of Tucson Weapons, Ltd. This is Detective Edgar Mendieta of the Federal Preventive Police in Mexico, I’m going to ask you a few questions. It’s been years since I’ve been to Mexico, last time I was there I drove down, the highways were awful, full of dead dogs, they seemed like backstreets. The detective ignored the comment and went right to the point: How many Mexican customers do you have? I will not give out the names of my clients, nor the number, who do you think you are? All I want to know if anyone buys from you. More than you would imagine, I won’t say any more than that, I won’t waste my time talking to the most corrupt police force in the world. How many in Sinaloa? Maybe twenty, and as I said, I will not give you a single name. All of them buy silver bullets? You are an idiot, the stupidest policeman I have ever spoken to in my life. You can repeat that to the boys from Interpol who are dying to pay you a visit. Let them come, I do everything by the book and you have no right to harass me. Mendieta changed tactics: Let me apologize, Mr. Cooper, I thank you for your cooperation, it turns out that we have a nutcase here killing Americans with silver bullets and the FBI asked for our cooperation, what you have told me is sufficient and since I’m sure
He left the room wanting a smoke.
At his desk he lit up.
He tried to make sense of his notes on the Palm: “cas Brun Caniz Paol sem m bod.” What is this? “Ripal aer 47. perfume, so&n Agric min,gv susp, Pao Rodrig, F aldan,p3 Yoonohoo Vald, M Kell, Saman Val, Laura, 17-46Z%&f!?tQ.” This sucker must have caught a virus. He turned it off and tossed it into the right-hand drawer. I can’t deal with technology. If Laura Frías is right, the murderer could be any of the ones she named, including Paola Rodríguez, who more than made good on her threat; let’s see, I’ve got Paola, Samantha, Mariana, Frank Aldana, Yoonohoo Valdés. The people from the USB could also have done it: Ripalda, Figueroa, Dania, and Laura herself. The way things are today, you’ve got to suspect even the guy everyone adores, and of what? Of godliness, to say the least, if not hypocrisy. They killed John Lennon, so why wouldn’t they kill this loser, no one can be on good terms with everyone, if he was, he wouldn’t have been rubbed out. Somebody new? Laura claimed to know nothing about that, but since the guy was friendly we can’t rule it out. A killer hired by the father? Motive: to win the big chair. It’s possible, why? What feelings does a man like Bruno awaken in the people around him? A sugar cube on some days, an insufferable jerk on others, according to Beatriz, affectionate with children, good lover, good friend; I should talk to his mother, since he called her to tell her he was happy.
A human being is so many things. Crime of passion, vengeance? The suspects so far fit the bill, except it was a bullet to the head and no sign of struggle; such respect for the body and the immediate surroundings indicates something else, no profanation, and what about the silver bullets? And the fragrance? Was there ever a murderer around here who used silver bullets? He did not know. I have to call Tucson. Every killer is sendinga message, what’s this one’s? What is he trying to prove? Who is he defying? He lit another cigarette. Society? The police? Did he own something? Land, houses, works of art? Did he have a will?
Zelda came in with a Diet Coke: Want some? It rusts my insides. He called Tucson.
After two female voices, he was put through to Mr. Gary Cooper, general manager of Tucson Weapons, Ltd. This is Detective Edgar Mendieta of the Federal Preventive Police in Mexico, I’m going to ask you a few questions. It’s been years since I’ve been to Mexico, last time I was there I drove down, the highways were awful, full of dead dogs, they seemed like backstreets. The detective ignored the comment and went right to the point: How many Mexican customers do you have? I will not give out the names of my clients, nor the number, who do you think you are? All I want to know if anyone buys from you. More than you would imagine, I won’t say any more than that, I won’t waste my time talking to the most corrupt police force in the world. How many in Sinaloa? Maybe twenty, and as I said, I will not give you a single name. All of them buy silver bullets? You are an idiot, the stupidest policeman I have ever spoken to in my life. You can repeat that to the boys from Interpol who are dying to pay you a visit. Let them come, I do everything by the book and you have no right to harass me. Mendieta changed tactics: Let me apologize, Mr. Cooper, I thank you for your cooperation, it turns out that we have a nutcase here killing Americans with silver bullets and the FBI asked for our cooperation, what you have told me is sufficient and since I’m sure
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