Percival Everett - The Body of Martin Aguilera

“Don’t cause trouble, prof. The last thing that any of us need is everybody getting scared of a killer on the loose. There’re too many old farts around here with guns in their houses. They’ll end up shootin’ their families and maybe me.”

Lewis was disappointed.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Lewis looked at the man’s eyes again. “I’ve always respected you. But it’s hard right now.”

Mondragon put his sunglasses back on and walked on past.

Lewis turned to see Salvador still in the window. He shook his head no and walked on to meet Laura and Maggie.

Lewis stood outside of El Coche Comedor smoking on his cigar and waiting for Maggie and Laura to show up for lunch. The talk with Mondragon had left him angry and disturbed. He wondered how young Taylor was feeling and what he was doing. There was some sort of youth art exhibit going on in the plaza. A couple of girls sat on the steps of the stage and tuned guitars. A van drove by and Lewis thought the white men in it were looking him over. Some people didn’t expect to see black people in this part of the country. He guessed the van had Texas license plates, but it didn’t. He thought it might have been a California tag, but it was so covered with mud he couldn’t see. The girls with the guitars took the stage, blew into the microphones, then began to sing in Spanish. The music was pretty.

“Papa!” Laura called through the open window of the car.

Lewis didn’t know quite what to make of the picture. The back seat of his car was loaded, an ironing board was strapped to the top. Maggie pulled into a diagonal parking space.

“What is all of this?” Lewis asked, walking to Maggie’s door.

“A few things,” Maggie said.

“An ironing board, Maggie? I live on a mountain.”

‘“I live on a mountain,’” she mocked him. “Calm down, Grizzly Adams.” She got out of the car and helped Laura slide across the seat.

Lewis looked at the stuff in the backseat. “Is that a record player? Maggie, I have a record player.”

“Yes, but that is my record player and when I play my belly dancing music, you won’t be able to say, ‘Get that off of my record player.’”

He paused. “Belly dancing?”

Laura was out and Maggie closed the car door. “Let’s eat,” she said.

Lewis backed up to the sidewalk and let them pass. “What do you wear?”

“You’ll like the food here,” Maggie said to Laura as they entered the restaurant. “Put that stinky thing out,” she said to Lewis about his cigar.

“Do you wear those balloon pants? Come on, tell me.”

“I hope you don’t think you’re going to be smoking those in the house. I have a very sensitive nose.”

The hostess seated them in a booth under a painting of an Indian’s face in the middle of the moon. The waitress came and took their orders. The restaurant wasn’t crowded and Lewis began to relax.

He looked at Maggie. “What do you know about the Penitentes?”

“Not much. Why?”

“They have secret funerals, don’t they?”

“I think so.”

“What’s a pennytenny?” Laura asked.

“It’s a club,” Lewis said and he felt bad for the skimpy answer, but he didn’t feel like explaining. “Did you help Maggie put all that junk in the car?”

“Yes.”

“You think that’s pretty funny.”

Laura giggled and looked at Maggie.

A boy came into the restaurant and to their booth, handed a note to Lewis. “ Perdone ,” he said and left quickly.

Lewis opened the paper. It said: I have a pair of boots your size.

“What’s it say?” Maggie asked.

“Let’s just say I’ll be able to tell you a little more about the Penitentes.” He got the waitress’s attention and asked for more water. He looked at Laura. “What do you say we call your folks tonight?”

The child nodded, looked worried.

“I’m making eggplant tonight,” Lewis said, “so pick one up for me at the market.”

“Not eggplant,” Laura whined.

“You’re not shopping with us?” Maggie asked.

“I’ve got to see somebody.” He opened his wallet and gave Maggie two fifties. “Surprise me, but get things I know how to cook.”

The food arrived. Lewis cut his cheeseburger and picked up half to take a bite. Maggie was looking at him. Laura was studying her club sandwich and he mouthed the words It’s okay to Maggie.

“What’s okay?” Laura asked.

“The burger,” he said.

“You’re not talking about the burger,” Laura said.

“Laura,” he said.

“You want to send me home.”

“No, I don’t. I just think we should call your parents so they know you’re fine.”

Laura was mad and when she got that way she just shut up. She managed a couple of bites of her sandwich and all of her pop. She wouldn’t look at Lewis.

“Laura.” Lewis used the tone that demanded she look at him. And she did. “I want you to relax. Nobody’s going anywhere, okay? Except to the grocery market and back up the mountain.”

Maggie reached over and stroked the child’s hand.

“Okay?” Lewis said.

“Okay,” said Laura.

“And guess what?” Maggie said to her. “I’m going to teach you how to belly dance.”

“Really?”

Lewis smiled. “Come on, Maggie, tell me what you wear.”

When they were outside at the car, Lewis scratched his head. “Maggie?”

“Lewis?”

“Where are you going to put the groceries?”

“Oh, shit,” she said.

Lewis laughed softly and turned to see the van he’d seen earlier roll through the intersection. He watched it until it went out of sight.

“Hey!” Maggie shouted into his ear.

“What?”

“You’ve got to have that hearing checked.”

“You’re going to have to take some stuff back home.” He saw Laura starting to laugh. “What is it?”

“The trunk is empty,” Maggie said.

“Practical jokers, eh?” He grabbed Laura and nibbled at her ear. “Well, how do you like this?” He let her go and held the door while they got into the car. “Pick me up at the post office at three,” he said to Maggie and closed the door. He watched them drive away.

Lewis found the door to the boot store locked. He looked up and down the street and knocked on the glass. An Indian woman and her little children were carrying blankets into a souvenir shop. Eyes peered at him through parted slats of the blinds and he heard the clicking of the bolt being unfastened. Alvarado closed the door after Lewis and secured it again. Ignacio Nuñez was sitting in the middle of the room, in dungarees and a sweat-stained, blue workshirt. His face was still, solemn.

“Hello, Ignacio,” Lewis said.

Ignacio nodded.

“The sheriff came by here,” Salvador said.

“I didn’t say anything to him,” Lewis said.

“I know,” Salvador said. He looked at the younger man.

“We want to know why you want to see Martin’s body,” Ignacio said.

“You have him?”

“I didn’t say that.” Ignacio leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Martin was our friend.”

“He was mine, too. I can’t really tell you why I want to see him, but I need to. It’s important.”

Ignacio looked at Salvador and sighed.

“We need to know why,” Salvador said.

“I’m not sure myself.” Lewis was tired of beating around the bush. “For whatever reasons, I was there in the funeral home when you took the body. I saw you, Salvador, and I guess you were there too, Ignacio.” He measured the two men’s responses. They remained still. Salvador licked his lips. “I have no interest in going to the sheriff, but I will.”