Percival Everett - The Body of Martin Aguilera

“Hey, prof, got some news for you,” Mondragon said.

“Manny, this is Martin’s grandson, Joseph Taylor.”

The sheriff’s manner changed. He sighed. “I’m sorry to tell you that we found Martin Aguilera’s body in the river this morning.”

“Body?” the man said. He found a chair. “I just got a letter from him two weeks ago. He wanted me to come see him.”

“In the river?” Lewis asked.

“Accident,” the sheriff said.

“Manny?”

“He was geared up for fishing, professor. He probably stepped out too far and the river snatched him in. Happens all the time.”

“Manny?”

But Mondragon would not look at Lewis’ eyes. “I’m sorry about your grandfather,” he said to Taylor. “I have a lot of work to do. If you’ll excuse me.” He went into his office.

The display of grief seemed pretty genuine and Lewis began to feel for the young man. But Lewis had nothing to say to him. Lewis had nothing to say to anyone. He was confused and angry. He left the station. He wondered why Manny Mondragon had behaved the way he had. Perhaps he too did not trust the stranger claiming to be Martin’s relative. But that would have been a pretty quick assessment. Mondragon seemed to be telling Lewis to stay out of it. Lewis leaned against his car and waited for Taylor.

Taylor came out shortly, lighting a cigarette and looking at the sky. He saw Lewis and walked to him.

“I’m sorry about your grandfather,” Lewis said.

Taylor nodded. “You were his friend.” It was not a question, but a statement.

“Yes.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Where are you from?” Lewis asked.

“Seattle.”

Lewis looked at the rental car.

“Listen,” said Taylor, “it’s clear you don’t trust me. Want to tell me why? My grandfather is dead. I want to know what’s going on.”

Lewis listened to him, looked at his eyes, believed him. “Martin never mentioned any family to me.”

“He and my mother didn’t get along. He didn’t like the fact that she married a white man.”

“I found your grandfather dead in his cabin yesterday.”

“But the sheriff said—”

“I know what the sheriff said. When he went back out there with me the body was gone. Sounds crazy. Mr. Taylor, I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know who to trust. You pop up out of nowhere the day after I find Martin dead. What am I supposed to think?”

“I understand. But put yourself in my shoes. My grandfather writes and tells me something’s wrong, but not what and when I get here the sheriff tells me he’s drowned in the river and you tell me this.”

“I’m sorry.”

Taylor dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. “Sheriff told me I could pick up Gramp’s things tomorrow. Did my grandfather talk to you about something that was bothering him?”

“He didn’t mention anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Last time I saw him was a couple of weeks ago and he didn’t say anything out of the ordinary.” Lewis remembered that visit. He and Martin were sitting out in the yard looking at a full moon. Coyotes were howling in the canyon and they laughed as Martin’s dog Rojo tried to bay with them.

“Well,” Taylor said, “I’m staying at the Best Western in town. If you think of anything—”

“I’ll call.”

Maggie and Laura met Lewis at the front door. Maggie waved a quarter in his face, said, “What is this? Have you ever seen one of these?”

“What are you raving about?” Lewis asked.

“This is a quarter, Lewis.”

Lewis sat down on the sofa, kicked off his shoes.

“You drop one of these into a pay phone and dial and you can tell the people who are sick with worry that you’re okay and not dead in some ditch.”

“I’m sorry.”

Laura sat beside him.

“I just got off the phone with the sheriff.”

Lewis looked at her.

“I was calling to tell him you were overdue, but he told us you’d been there.”

“So, what’s the fuss.”

Maggie cleared her throat. “I’ll make tea.”

When the woman was out of the room, Laura said, “Maggie’s mad.”

“Yeah, well, she has a right to be. I’m sorry I worried you.” He looked at the kitchen door. “Maggie?”

“What?”

“Did Mondragon say anything to you about Martin?”

“No.”

Lewis got up and walked to the phone on the wall just inside the kitchen. He asked the operator to dial the sheriff. “May I speak to Sheriff Mondragon, please? Yes, it’s important. Manny?”

“Yeah?” said Mondragon.

“It’s me, Lewis Mason. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I told you everything, professor. Aguilera died in the river while fishing.”

“And that’s all you have to say to me?”

“That’s what my report says.”

Lewis let the receiver down in its cradle. He looked up to find Maggie and Laura staring at him from the kitchen table.

“Martin drowned in the river.”

Maggie frowned. “But you said—”

“I know what I said. Don’t ask me to explain anything. The sheriff is writing in his report that Martin Aguilera drowned while fishing in the rapid water of the Rio Grande. I don’t think my name appears.”

“Relax,” Maggie said.

“Something really strange is going on. Martin’s grandson showed up.”

“Already?”

Lewis sat down at the table. “Claims he got a letter from the old man saying something was wrong. Taylor’s his name. Says his mother married a white man and got Martin mad. If he’s got Mexican blood, I do.”

“Why is the sheriff acting funny?” Maggie asked.

Lewis shrugged. “I thought he didn’t want to say anything in front of Taylor. But now I don’t know. Maybe he’s scared of something. “He picked up his mug and sipped the hot tea. “Have you met the new vet?”

Maggie shook her head.

“Cyril Peabody. A nice guy.”

“Where’d you run into him?”

Lewis decided not to mention the squirrel. “In town.” He looked out the window at the afternoon. “So, how did you two get along today?”

“Great,” said Maggie.

“No fighting or anything like that?”

Laura laughed. “No,” she said. “We played cards and went for a walk. We saw a tanager.”

“Hey, that’s terrific. That’s one of my favorite birds.” He looked at his mug.

“I think I’ll stay here tonight,” Maggie said. “Keep an eye on you two.”

“You know you’re welcome.”

Laura was pleased.

“We’ll make cookies,” Maggie told the child.

“We’ll walk up the mountain a ways. How’s that sound?” Lewis asked.

“Good,” said Laura.

“Remember when we hiked over on Garapata Ridge?” he asked Maggie.

Maggie nodded.

“There’s a trail that leads down to Plata Creek, isn’t there?”

“I’m not sure. I think so. Why?”

“Nothing.” Lewis smiled at Laura. Plata Creek ran through Plata Canyon, Martin’s canyon. Lewis knew the canyon wasn’t boxed, so he could probably ride into it from the back side.

“Papa?” Laura said. “Are you all right?”

“Sure, honey.” He looked at his mug. “Is this herbal tea?”

Laura smiled. “Yes.”

“You guys are really funny.”

The late afternoon showed no promise of rain. Lewis looked at the sky. “Man, it’s dry.” He stopped as they stepped over a ditch of moving water. “Maggie, you think you and Laura could walk the ditch for me tomorrow? We ought to have better flow than this.”

Maggie said they would.

Lewis’ water came from a creek which fed a ditch which ran a mile around and down the mountain and filled a cistern and was processed. He’d yet to have a serious problem, but he could easily foresee being without water one of these dry summers.