Percival Everett - The Body of Martin Aguilera

At dinner, Laura wanted to know about Joe Taylor.

Lewis took a drink of water. “Joe never got to spend time with his grandfather the way you do. And when he came to see him, he wasn’t here. It’s really sad.”

Laura looked ready to cry.

“So, he wanted me to tell him stories about Martin, about what a good friend and fisherman he was. Things like that.”

Laura ate a few bites. She asked Maggie, “Are you Papa’s girlfriend?”

“I’m his friend,” Maggie said.

“You’re a girl,” Laura pointed out.

“Maggie is one of my best friends,” Lewis said. He smiled at the woman.

Lewis read to Laura and put her to bed. He left the door to her room ajar as she liked, to allow light from the hall inside.

He grabbed a light jacket. Maggie followed him out into the yard. “Promise me you’ll be careful,” she said.

“What do you think I’m—” He stopped. “I’ll be careful, Maggie.” He turned and reached for the car door.

She touched his sleeve. “Lewis.”

He faced her. He kissed her. Her lips were soft and he felt light. He took a deep breath as he pulled away. “You sure know to get a fellow to come home.”

“Be careful and don’t be a dumbshit.”

He got into the car. “Too late for the latter.”

Taylor had not mentioned his room number, so Lewis entered the office of the Best Western Motel. Ernesto Nunez was the evening clerk. The young man was sipping a beer and watching a baseball game on television.

“How’s it going, Ernesto?” Lewis asked.

Ernesto didn’t get up. He smiled and raised his beer can. “Que pasa , prof.” Ernesto’s brother Ignacio had put a roof on Lewis’ cabin and Ernesto always asked about it. “Staying dry?”

“Yep.”

“What brings you out?”

“Do you have a Joseph Taylor registered?”

“Room eight. Friend of yours?”

“Martin Aguilera’s grandson.”

Ernesto reached forward and turned down the volume on the television. “Shame about old Martin. The river can be dangerous.” He looked at nothing in particular.

“Eight?”

“Yeah,” Ernesto said absently.

Lewis stopped at the door. “You know if he’s had any other visitors?”

Ernesto focused on Lewis. “Not that I’ve seen and I can see his room from here.”

“Thanks.”

Lewis looked up at the sky as he walked across the parking lot toward room 8. He paused at the door and heard the canned laughter of a television sitcom. He looked at the blue Camaro. The only other car in the lot was a low-rider, an old Mercury parked at the end of the same row of units. He knocked. It opened almost instantly.

“Come in,” Taylor said. He was nervous. He went to the television and switched it off.

“You okay?”

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Lewis rubbed the back of his neck. “Neither have I. What do you do in Seattle?”

“I drive a UPS truck. I’m scared to death.” He held a shaking hand out. “Look at that.”

“Mine shake normally,” Lewis said.

Taylor chuckled. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Fonda’s is two blocks away, so let’s walk.”

The men left the room and walked close to the building, under the overhang, in the shadows. Lewis wondered if anyone would be at the funeral home at night. Luis Fonda was getting old and he did everything by himself, except for driving the hearse. His son-in-law Edgar did that. Lewis’ breathing became more relaxed, more measured as he considered the situation. Fonda was certainly at home by now. If Edgar was there he would be drunk out of his mind.

“What happens if we get caught?” Taylor asked.

They were a block away, passing the liquor store. “I don’t know. What’s the crime? You want to see your grandfather’s body. Who wouldn’t understand that?”

Taylor nodded as if that made sense.

Lewis thought of kissing Maggie and the light feeling returned. He also considered what he had just told Taylor. What was the big deal about them looking at Martin’s body? Then it struck him that they might have to look at a couple of bodies before finding the right one. He wasn’t sure if Martin was in the funeral home. He hoped he wasn’t getting the young man into trouble. He looked at Taylor. The thin man had a long, slow stride.

“If you want to go back, I don’t mind going alone, “Lewis said.

“I’m with you. I really appreciate your concern. I understand why my grandfather liked you.”

Lewis said nothing. They were in front of Fonda’s Funeral Home, a wide, long, single story adobe with a parking lot on one side and an empty lot on the other. The tacky neon sign that Fonda had erected years ago shone with the “a” dark. A breeze came down off the hills. There were no lights on in the building. The street was quiet, no cars, no pedestrians. The parking lot was unlighted. Lewis started toward the back.

“Let’s see if we can get in this way,” he said.

Taylor followed, turned around and took a few steps backwards to watch the street. “I hope we find him quick.”

The back entrance sat under the dim glow of a single twenty-five watt bulb. The light was so weak, it was sick, eerie. Lewis pulled open the outer screen door. He looked at Taylor, then tried the knob. It turned and he pushed inside. He brought a pen-light from his jacket pocket. Taylor was close behind, the fingers of a hand against Lewis’ back.

“Man, this is creepy,” Taylor said.

Lewis swept the floor in front of him with the light. He panned the whole room. It was a large room, full of tables and stacked chairs, with a clear, wide path through to an open doorway. They moved slowly, together. A noise came from the next room.

“What was that?” Taylor asked.

Lewis looked back at him. He could scarcely see his face. “How would I know?” He led on.

Pausing at the doorway, Lewis shined the light ahead. The next room was smaller; three gurneys stood end-to-end, the center one occupied, a sheet covering the body. Embalming equipment was beyond the tables.

“You think that’s him?” Taylor asked.

“There’s one way to find out.” He stepped to the middle table, bumped it and it rolled a bit, startling both of them. Lewis grabbed the covering. Ready?”

“No.”

“Here goes.” Lewis pulled it back and there was the face of a very old Indian woman, one eye open, one eye closed. The cover fell and the men took a couple of steps backward. “That’s not him,” Lewis said.

“Let’s get out of here,” Taylor said.

“Calm down, okay? It’s just a dead person.”

“I know that.”

“One more room.”

Another noise. Someone ran from a dark corner. Taylor screamed and pulled at the back of Lewis’ jacket, causing him to drop the light. Lewis found himself scurrying out into the room of tables and chairs and toward the door. He was aware of Taylor and several other bodies, all moving the same way. Taylor hit the door first, catching his foot on the screen door and falling. Lewis tripped over him. They sat up and saw three men running, two carrying a body. Lewis was up, but Taylor grabbed him.

“What are you going to do if you catch them?” the young man asked.

Lewis tried to catch his breath. Taylor had a point. He watched the last man disappear into the cottonwoods at the edge of the vacant lot. The man limped and Lewis recognized the limp. It was Salvador Alvarado.

“I know that man,” Lewis said.

Taylor was kneeling, holding his face in his hands.

“I know that man.”

Back in the motel room, Lewis sat in a chair by the window while Taylor went into the bathroom to change his pants. Lewis trusted him now. The man was new to anything like this. He looked out the window at the lot, at the low-rider still parked in the back. The night looked so normal, was the way he thought of it, save the fact that he was viewing it from a room at the Best Western. Looking at the night, he found it difficult to believe he had just sneaked into a mortuary and witnessed the theft of a body.