eyes burned and he rubbed them. He didn’t want to cry in front of Sevilla. That would be too much.
“Who sells Estéban his heroin?”
“Oh, for Christ’s fucking sake!” Kelly shouted. “The man’s sister is
gone
, all right? She’s just… just fucking
gone
and I don’t give a
shit
who gives Estéban what and what for! Now why don’t you just get the fuck out of my place?!?”
Sevilla didn’t move, but his expression settled into something hard. He wore a suit, but like all of them it wasn’t pressed and had the impression of age. Sevilla took the handkerchief from his breast pocket and held it out to Kelly. “You want to wipe your snotty nose?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Kelly demanded, but he touched his nose with the back of his hand unconsciously.
“I mean if you’re going to be a spoiled little boy—”
“I’m not anybody’s—” Kelly began.
Sevilla cut him off: “
¡Parate!
Right now I talk and you listen. And listen closely, Kelly, because I don’t want to lose my temper with you.
You
don’t want me to lose my temper with you.”
Kelly closed his mouth. Sevilla rose from the couch and walked the room the way he did: a slow circuit that never paused long, but missed nothing. He lingered at the sliding glass door and touched the thick splatter of dried butter leavings. When he looked back to Kelly, his eyes were dark and no longer sad.
“She’s been gone ten days,” Sevilla said. “I know because I asked around. You were gone, too — crawled up into your fucking needle — but Estéban was also missing. Did he tell you that? Did he say he was out of town?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Kelly waited for Sevilla to say more, but instead Sevilla looked out toward the
maquiladora
beyond Kelly’s balcony. He was quiet for a long time, until Kelly couldn’t stay silent anymore. “Where was he?”
“Somewhere,” Sevilla said. He put his back to the view and fished a pack of cigarettes out of an inside pocket. “I could make a guess, but I don’t have real answers. That’s because I don’t know
names
. Names like who supplies Estéban with heroin.”
“Goddammit, I told you I
don’t know
.”
Sevilla knocked one cigarette from the pack, perched it in the corner of his mouth and lit it. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through his nose. He came away from the sliding glass doors and closer to Kelly. He used the cigarette as a pointer. “Then let me tell you what’s happened. Estéban and his good friends you don’t know, maybe they aren’t such good friends after all. Maybe Estéban makes too much money, or maybe he doesn’t make enough. Someone gets angry or he gets angry, but the end result is the same: Paloma goes for a ride and until everyone’s happy again and made friends again she stays away.”
Kelly shook his head. “No,” he said.
“No? Maybe she doesn’t come back at all. Maybe she’s dead already.”
“No, that’s not what happened.”
“I don’t know what happened, Kelly,” Sevilla said. He moved closer and left fading streamers of smoke in his wake. “I don’t know because I don’t have
names
. With names I can get faces and places and times.
Then
I can know.”
Kelly felt flushed, breathless, and put his hand on the counter by the sink. A shard of broken plate pressed against his palm. “She’s not dead. No dealer took her.”
“You know that for certain, do you, Kelly?”
“I know it.”
Sevilla was close enough to touch. The smell of cigarette was all around Kelly, and the aroma of his aftershave. Kelly wanted to push Sevilla back, but he was afraid he might fall; he was lightheaded and the smoke didn’t help. “You
don’t
know, Kelly. You
can’t
know. But we can… if you help me.”
“I don’t know what I can do for you,” Kelly said. He closed his eyes. He felt nauseous.
“Help me cut through Estéban’s bullshit. What he tells the locals I don’t care; we both know these men,
“Who sells Estéban his heroin?”
“Oh, for Christ’s fucking sake!” Kelly shouted. “The man’s sister is
gone
, all right? She’s just… just fucking
gone
and I don’t give a
shit
who gives Estéban what and what for! Now why don’t you just get the fuck out of my place?!?”
Sevilla didn’t move, but his expression settled into something hard. He wore a suit, but like all of them it wasn’t pressed and had the impression of age. Sevilla took the handkerchief from his breast pocket and held it out to Kelly. “You want to wipe your snotty nose?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Kelly demanded, but he touched his nose with the back of his hand unconsciously.
“I mean if you’re going to be a spoiled little boy—”
“I’m not anybody’s—” Kelly began.
Sevilla cut him off: “
¡Parate!
Right now I talk and you listen. And listen closely, Kelly, because I don’t want to lose my temper with you.
You
don’t want me to lose my temper with you.”
Kelly closed his mouth. Sevilla rose from the couch and walked the room the way he did: a slow circuit that never paused long, but missed nothing. He lingered at the sliding glass door and touched the thick splatter of dried butter leavings. When he looked back to Kelly, his eyes were dark and no longer sad.
“She’s been gone ten days,” Sevilla said. “I know because I asked around. You were gone, too — crawled up into your fucking needle — but Estéban was also missing. Did he tell you that? Did he say he was out of town?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Kelly waited for Sevilla to say more, but instead Sevilla looked out toward the
maquiladora
beyond Kelly’s balcony. He was quiet for a long time, until Kelly couldn’t stay silent anymore. “Where was he?”
“Somewhere,” Sevilla said. He put his back to the view and fished a pack of cigarettes out of an inside pocket. “I could make a guess, but I don’t have real answers. That’s because I don’t know
names
. Names like who supplies Estéban with heroin.”
“Goddammit, I told you I
don’t know
.”
Sevilla knocked one cigarette from the pack, perched it in the corner of his mouth and lit it. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through his nose. He came away from the sliding glass doors and closer to Kelly. He used the cigarette as a pointer. “Then let me tell you what’s happened. Estéban and his good friends you don’t know, maybe they aren’t such good friends after all. Maybe Estéban makes too much money, or maybe he doesn’t make enough. Someone gets angry or he gets angry, but the end result is the same: Paloma goes for a ride and until everyone’s happy again and made friends again she stays away.”
Kelly shook his head. “No,” he said.
“No? Maybe she doesn’t come back at all. Maybe she’s dead already.”
“No, that’s not what happened.”
“I don’t know what happened, Kelly,” Sevilla said. He moved closer and left fading streamers of smoke in his wake. “I don’t know because I don’t have
names
. With names I can get faces and places and times.
Then
I can know.”
Kelly felt flushed, breathless, and put his hand on the counter by the sink. A shard of broken plate pressed against his palm. “She’s not dead. No dealer took her.”
“You know that for certain, do you, Kelly?”
“I know it.”
Sevilla was close enough to touch. The smell of cigarette was all around Kelly, and the aroma of his aftershave. Kelly wanted to push Sevilla back, but he was afraid he might fall; he was lightheaded and the smoke didn’t help. “You
don’t
know, Kelly. You
can’t
know. But we can… if you help me.”
“I don’t know what I can do for you,” Kelly said. He closed his eyes. He felt nauseous.
“Help me cut through Estéban’s bullshit. What he tells the locals I don’t care; we both know these men,
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