The Cowboy Bible and Other Stories by Carlos Velázquez
Authors: Carlos Velázquez
Tags: spanish, Fiction, Mexico, Crime, Short Stories, Literary Fiction, Short Fiction, mexican fiction, drug war, Border, Carlos Velazquez, Narcos, Mexican books, English translation, Stories about Mexico, Surreal, Latin American literature, Mexican music, Mexican literature, Mexican pop culture
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doorbell. Pedro Rodríguez opened the door. His skin had red splotches all over it. Scotland.
—Pedro.
—Yes, Juan.
—I need two grams of heroin. But I don’t have the money to pay you.
—Juan, you know… it’s business.
—I brought this. He showed him the Star .380.
—That changes things. Given that, we don’t have to take the usual steps.
—Juan handed Pedro the gun, wrapped in a handkerchief and still warm from the shot that had killed John Vollmer, then took the drug and made his way down the dirty boulevard. Pedro Rodríguez stayed in his room, scratching. The itching was so intense that all through the wee hours the only sound on the streets was that of his nails on his skin.
The Cowboy Bible
At the station, the commissioner reprimanded two of his agents.
—What’s this about you refusing to arrest Pedro Rodríguez?
—We’ve heard stories, commissioner.
—Damn.
—They say he’s a nahual .
—What’s that?
—A witch. An Indian witch who can transform himself into a bird, bubble, fire, coyote, or whatever he wants.
—Those are stories told by ignorant people. Do you think this is a movie? Pedro Rodríguez is nothing more than an insignificant dealer.
—They say they’ve seen him shoot with a Cowboy Bible.
—Don’t be ridiculous. A Cowboy Bible? So, what then, he uses a guitar to cut onions?
—Commissioner…
—Don’t commissioner me. You two get out of here and get that asshole by whatever means necessary.
—Don’t make me lose my patience. Just confess, Mr. Juan Salazar. What did you do with the gun that killed your lover? asked the commissioner.
—I already told you. I gave it to Pedro Rodríguez.
—For the last time, Mr. Juan Salazar: Do you know where to find Pedro Rodríguez?
Juan Salazar was detained at Lecumberri for only thirteen days. He was released on bail. Court costs were $2,312. His attorney, Bernabé Jurado, charged $2,300 for his services, $300 of which were used to bribe the boys in ballistics. When they couldn’t find the murder weapon, Jurado substituted a Smith & Wesson for the Star .380 so as not to delay the proceedings. The whole story about the William Tell game was proven false. The version presented in court asserted that Juan Salazar was cleaning his weapon. The gun accidentally fell to the floor and fired. The bullet entered the victim’s forehead without premeditation.
John Vollmer was buried in grave #1018-A in the Panteón Americano.
Pedro Rodríguez was listening to the blues on his old record player when they rang the doorbell of his attic room. He thought about the cops, he thought about the dogs, and he thought about Juan Salazar. With the needle still hanging off his arm, he got up to see who it was. It was nobody. And before some Yankee showed up with his imported boner, insisting on trading it for drugs, he grabbed the Star .380 and went out on the streets.
He arrived at the Laguna Coliseum in time for the second fight. That night, there was a mask vs. hairpiece match between Santo’s Son and Menace Jr. He bought some snacks and a Victoria beer. When it came time for the superdeluxe semifinal, after he’d had four beers, he saw a narc guarding the men’s bathroom. A second stood at the door, and a third roamed the general ring area.
With the gun tucked into his pants waist, he made his way to the rudos dressing room. A fourth narc intercepted him. All four patted him down, but they didn’t find the gun. In its place, badly hidden in his pants, they found a Cowboy Bible. After searching his attic room and driving him around in an old Dodge for two hours with his head between his legs, Pedro Rodríguez still didn’t reveal the whereabouts of the Star .380. He also couldn’t explain how he’d come upon The Cowboy Bible. They took him cuffed to the station. The gun was never found.
The beating ended at five in the afternoon. Two police thugs had been cracking him from eleven in the morning on, hoping he’d let loose the
—Pedro.
—Yes, Juan.
—I need two grams of heroin. But I don’t have the money to pay you.
—Juan, you know… it’s business.
—I brought this. He showed him the Star .380.
—That changes things. Given that, we don’t have to take the usual steps.
—Juan handed Pedro the gun, wrapped in a handkerchief and still warm from the shot that had killed John Vollmer, then took the drug and made his way down the dirty boulevard. Pedro Rodríguez stayed in his room, scratching. The itching was so intense that all through the wee hours the only sound on the streets was that of his nails on his skin.
The Cowboy Bible
At the station, the commissioner reprimanded two of his agents.
—What’s this about you refusing to arrest Pedro Rodríguez?
—We’ve heard stories, commissioner.
—Damn.
—They say he’s a nahual .
—What’s that?
—A witch. An Indian witch who can transform himself into a bird, bubble, fire, coyote, or whatever he wants.
—Those are stories told by ignorant people. Do you think this is a movie? Pedro Rodríguez is nothing more than an insignificant dealer.
—They say they’ve seen him shoot with a Cowboy Bible.
—Don’t be ridiculous. A Cowboy Bible? So, what then, he uses a guitar to cut onions?
—Commissioner…
—Don’t commissioner me. You two get out of here and get that asshole by whatever means necessary.
—Don’t make me lose my patience. Just confess, Mr. Juan Salazar. What did you do with the gun that killed your lover? asked the commissioner.
—I already told you. I gave it to Pedro Rodríguez.
—For the last time, Mr. Juan Salazar: Do you know where to find Pedro Rodríguez?
Juan Salazar was detained at Lecumberri for only thirteen days. He was released on bail. Court costs were $2,312. His attorney, Bernabé Jurado, charged $2,300 for his services, $300 of which were used to bribe the boys in ballistics. When they couldn’t find the murder weapon, Jurado substituted a Smith & Wesson for the Star .380 so as not to delay the proceedings. The whole story about the William Tell game was proven false. The version presented in court asserted that Juan Salazar was cleaning his weapon. The gun accidentally fell to the floor and fired. The bullet entered the victim’s forehead without premeditation.
John Vollmer was buried in grave #1018-A in the Panteón Americano.
Pedro Rodríguez was listening to the blues on his old record player when they rang the doorbell of his attic room. He thought about the cops, he thought about the dogs, and he thought about Juan Salazar. With the needle still hanging off his arm, he got up to see who it was. It was nobody. And before some Yankee showed up with his imported boner, insisting on trading it for drugs, he grabbed the Star .380 and went out on the streets.
He arrived at the Laguna Coliseum in time for the second fight. That night, there was a mask vs. hairpiece match between Santo’s Son and Menace Jr. He bought some snacks and a Victoria beer. When it came time for the superdeluxe semifinal, after he’d had four beers, he saw a narc guarding the men’s bathroom. A second stood at the door, and a third roamed the general ring area.
With the gun tucked into his pants waist, he made his way to the rudos dressing room. A fourth narc intercepted him. All four patted him down, but they didn’t find the gun. In its place, badly hidden in his pants, they found a Cowboy Bible. After searching his attic room and driving him around in an old Dodge for two hours with his head between his legs, Pedro Rodríguez still didn’t reveal the whereabouts of the Star .380. He also couldn’t explain how he’d come upon The Cowboy Bible. They took him cuffed to the station. The gun was never found.
The beating ended at five in the afternoon. Two police thugs had been cracking him from eleven in the morning on, hoping he’d let loose the
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