Steven Havill - Bag Limit

When I returned home from my electoral duties, “Doctor G” was still on the phone. He’d moved from the busy kitchen to the back patio, where he stood in his shirtsleeves, shuffling the cottonwood leaves with his sandals while he talked.

Estelle reached across the counter and handed me a mug of coffee. “We can eat breakfast in about five minutes,” she said.

“Great. Have you had a chance to talk to Sophia?”

Estelle shook her head. “She was hoping that she would be able to break away and come up for a couple of days, but it doesn’t sound like it.” She glanced out the window. “Very serious negotiations.” She caught her husband’s eye and beckoned, but he grinned and held up a hand. After another minute or two of animated conversation, he opened the back door and peered inside.

“Ah, you’re back,” he said to me. “Sophia would like to speak with you.”

I joined him outside and he handed the phone to me.

“Sophia,” I said. “Nice to hear from you.”

“And how is the padrino ? ” Her quiet voice was silky, alto, and strongly accented.

“Better and better,” I replied, remembering that the last time I’d seen Sophia Tournal, she’d been lingering over a cup of coffee in my kitchen, deep in conspiracy with Estelle. “Are you able to pay us a visit sometime soon?”

“Sometime soon, yes. I regret not this week.”

“That’s a shame. We’ve got quite a reunion going here at the moment.”

“Francis told me. You are pleased to see your son after so long, no?”

“Most pleased. And my grandson, as well. He’s been keeping the two boys busy.”

“Hmm,” she said. I wasn’t sure if the little sound was a suppressed laugh, a sigh of nostalgia, or a groan of relief that the two Guzman kids weren’t tearing her house apart. “Your little town,” she said, “it holds the attraction for Francis and Estelle, no?”

“So it would appear,” I replied, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

“I’ve mentioned the opportunities to be found in a large city, and of course, they are aware of those.”

“I’m sure they are,” I said. “After all, Francis did his residency in Houston. And now they’ve had a taste of the north country and city life up there in Minnesota.”

“Yes.” The single word came without inflection. “You know, I don’t recall the land behind your home, William. When I was there four years ago, I don’t believe I ever had occasion to…to explore.”

“It’s just five acres of trees and brush right now, Sophia. Nothing spectacular.”

“One must look far ahead for these things,” Sophia Tournal said. “Francis assures me that there is opportunity there.”

“I suppose there is.”

She laughed at that, a gentle little chuckle that once again was impossible for me to translate. “You don’t sound overly…what’s the word…enthusiastic.”

“Sophia, just the opposite. I’d do anything I could to help them make the right decision. Of course I’d be delighted if they would settle in Posadas again. I happen to think that there’s opportunity here, but it depends what a man wants. The area is growing, like all of the southwestern United States. Like many little communities, Posadas is desperate for quality medical care. Francis can write his own ticket.”

“Anywhere in the world,” Sophia said.

“Anywhere. I’m sure there’s some pull here because of Estelle’s mother. She’s been a good sport about Minnesota, but she’d like to return to New Mexico-or at least close by.”

“A remarkable woman.”

“Yes, she is. But Estelle tells me that her mother hasn’t tried to influence them one way or another. And that’s exactly the way I feel. It’s none of my business, when you get right down to it.”

“You’re the padrino for the children. It is your business. Just as it is my business.”

“I can be their godfather from a distance, if it comes to that.” I laughed. “I’d rather not be, of course.”

“Well,” Sophia Tournal sighed. “I can be an aunt from a distance, too. I have told Francis that I would invest in a new clinic.”

“That’s most generous of you.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sixty-seven years old. I have more money than I could spend in three lifetimes. I would prefer that the clinic be located in Veracruz, of course. But if Posadas is what Francis wants, then so be it. You are close to the border. The clinic will benefit a large area of northern Mexico as well. I have told Francis that he must see to that.”

“I’m sure he will.” I switched the phone to my other ear and realized that my hands were shaking.

“My nephew said that he would call back this evening to tell me what he has decided.”

“That’s fine. And if it turns out that you can break away, we’d love to have you visit.”

“We’ll see what will be,” Sophia Tournal said. “Take care of yourself, Padrino . ”

I switched off the phone and just stood there for a long minute, looking at the little gadget.

“Breakfast,” Estelle said. She held the door for me as I stepped into the kitchen, and then gave me a fierce hug.

“What’s that for?” I smiled as she stepped away.

“General principles, sir.”

Everyone seemed to have something to do, and we agreed to meet for lunch at 2:00 PM-that would give the mammoth breakfast time to settle, and Tadd enough time to decide what creation he wanted to try next.

I walked into my office shortly after eleven, with every intention of cleaning the place out. My office was spartan and neat. I was not one to cover every available flat surface under a landslide of paperwork. Besides, I had started the transition process more than a month before, first by taking active files and farming them out to Torrez and the other deputies.

Since there was nothing personal to William C. Gastner in the files, I could have just slammed the file cabinet drawers shut and tossed the keys on Bob Torrez’s desk. Instead, I found myself kicked back in my old chair, feet up on the desk, reading each file methodically, as if all the memories needed prodding one last time.

“Sir?”

I looked up with a start. Gayle Torrez stood in the door. “Hi there.”

“Excuse me, sir, but can you take a call from a Lieutenant Nunez from Del Rio? He’s the officer that Bobby talked to earlier.”

“Did I hear your husband say earlier that he was going back down on the mountain?”

Gayle nodded and glanced up at the clock. It was twenty minutes before two. “Yes, sir. They found the bullet mark on the rocks. He went down to help them measure the angles.”

“Good deal. Sure, I’ll take the call.”

I reached out and picked up the phone. “This is Sheriff Gastner.”

“Hello, Sheriff! Leo Nunez in Del Rio, Texas. How’s your life way up there in God’s country?”

“Things are going well, Lieutenant.”

“The undersheriff tells me that you’re stepping down today. After how many years?”

“Something like thirty-one, thirty-two. Altogether too long.”

“Well, congratulations. Say, we’ve had a hell of a morning. Boy, what you guys got us into.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, you know. I have a couple men over at Walsh Motors. The dealership’s closed up, and we’ve got a court order to seize any and all records. Makes for real interesting reading.”

“I bet it does.”

“Best of all, the floor manager, a fellow by the name of Terry Baggerly, knew pretty much what Walsh was doing. Baggerly would like to stay out of jail, so he’s singing a really nice melody for us.”

“That helps,” I said. “What was Walsh’s game, anyway?”