Percival Everett - The Body of Martin Aguilera

“Did you call Joe this morning?” Maggie asked.

“No.”

“Do you want peaches or nectarines?”

Lewis looked at the road. He was thinking about Taylor. The man was no doubt very embarrassed about soiling his pants. Funny how stupid little things mean so much, thought Lewis.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Peaches or nectarines?”

“Peaches. It doesn’t matter. Anything is fine.”

Lewis parked illegally in front of Alvarado’s House of Boots. Maggie slid to the driver’s side and took Laura with her to her house to pick up clothes and other things. Lewis watched the car turn at the light and he felt good about Maggie, but a little silly, too, like he was too old for all this stuff. Not just the business with Martin, but to be dating. The word even sounded too young.

He entered the shop. Salvador was helping a tourist couple. There were several pair of snake-skin boots laying on the floor. Salvador greeted him with a warm hello, but gave a wary glance a few seconds later. Lewis walked around the store, examining the boots. The prices marked on the tags made Lewis want to laugh. Salvador marked everything really high because of the tourists, but cut the prices greatly for locals. Lewis was behind the man now, looking at his mop of gray hair. The way he was sitting made the collar of his shirt dip down his back. Lewis could see a red mark, a cut or something. The couple, a tall blonde woman and a stocky brown-headed man wanted matching pairs of boots, but couldn’t agree on a style. Salvador looked around at Lewis and offered a nervous smile.

“Be with you in a minute.”

Lewis nodded. That was another thing about the way Salvador did business. When tourists were present, he didn’t let on to knowing anyone who entered the shop. Lewis sat down near the counter and looked at a magazine. He read Boot News and was surprised to find it interesting.

The couple bought their boots and left bickering.

Salvador shook his head about the tourists. “How are you, Lewis?”

“Fine, Salvador. What about you?”

The man nodded.

“En que puedo servirle?”

“Yeah, I need a black dress boot. A Wellington. You know what I like.” Lewis looked him in the eye.

Salvador limped over to the far wall and came back with a boot. “Something like this?”

“Not so much heel.”

“I have what you want. Wait.” Salvador went through the curtain into the back of the shop.

Lewis saw a Bible on the counter.

The man came back with a lower-heeled black boot. “Just got these in. Haven’t put them out yet.”

“That’s what I’ve been looking for. Do you have size eleven?”

“ Si ,” he said and limped into the back again. It was the same limp.

Lewis was beginning to put something together. He suspected that Salvador Alvarado was a Penitente, a member of a Catholic sect that practiced self-punishment. That would explain the mark on his back. That would also explain the theft of the body. The Penitentes buried their dead in secret graves. It all seemed far-fetched, but Lewis had nothing else to go on.

Salvador came back with the boots.

Lewis removed his shoes. As he stepped into the first boot, he said, “Shame about Martin Aguilera.”

“Si.”

“He was a good friend,” Lewis said.

“I grew up with him,” Salvador said. “How does that one feel?”

Lewis was standing with the one boot on. “This one is good. The other foot’s the problem.”

Salvador pulled wadded paper from the second boot and handed it to Lewis.

“There’s something I never knew,” Lewis said. “If Martin was a religious man. We never talked about that. Guess you don’t think of that stuff until too late sometimes.”

“Martin was religious.”

“Are you?”

“Si.”

“I heard that somebody stole Martin’s body from Fonda’s. You hear about that?”

The man nodded. “How’s that boot feel?”

“Now, see, this one is a little snug.” Lewis limped around the row of chairs. “Somebody might think I was you.”

Salvador laughed.

“The police are looking to get Martin’s body back.”

Salvador pulled the loose paper together from the floor.

Lewis felt badly for scaring the man. “I respect people’s religious beliefs. You know what I mean.”

“We should all do that,” Salvador said.

Lewis sat down and pulled off the boots. “The law can’t always stay out of people’s business. The law doesn’t understand.”

“Do you want the boots?”

“No.” Lewis put on his old shoes. He paused at the door. “I’ll see you later, Salvador.”

Lewis walked out of the House of Boots and entered the tobacco store next door. He bought a few cigars. He didn’t smoke as much as he once did, but he still enjoyed them. They calmed him, made him slow down. He unwrapped a Partagas as he passed back out to the street. He bumped into Manny Mondragon.

“Hey there, prof,” Mondragon said.

“Manny.” Lewis bit the end off of his cigar and spat it out. He looked at the sheriff’s eyes behind dark glasses. “How’s tricks?”

“I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“Why would I be upset?”

Mondragon removed his sunglasses. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you mention me in your report on Martin?”

The sheriff looked down the street at a traffic tie-up caused by a crippled low-rider. Two men were trying to push it into a gas station. “No, Lewis, I didn’t.”

Lewis was angry. “Why not?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I’ll tell you what’s hard to explain. It’s hard to explain how a man who knew the river better than anyone around here ended up drowning in it. It’s hard to explain how a dead man dies a second time. It’s hard to explain how the sheriff can look a citizen straight in the eye and lie to him.”

“Okay.” Mondragon was beginning to worry about someone passing by and hearing them. “Settle down.”

Lewis looked up and down the sidewalk, then whispered, “Settle down? You give me a reason to settle down. Somebody killed Martin Aguilera and if you won’t do something about it, then I will.”

“Stay out of this, Lewis.”

“I’m in it, Manny.” Lewis cupped his hands around a match and lit his cigar. “Are you in it?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about someone stealing Martin’s body?”

Lewis tried to look surprised. “Stealing his body?”

“From Fonda’s.”

“Come on.”

“Last night.”

“Don’t change the subject. Why did you lie to me? Why did you lie to Martin’s grandson.”

“What would you have me tell the man? His grandfather was dead. You wanted me to say he was murdered? I don’t know that. You saw him in the cabin. I fished him out of the river.”

“You think I’m lying.”

“I don’t know that. If I told Taylor all that stuff, would that have brought his grandfather back?”

Manny had a point and Lewis felt immediately bad for having sucked young Taylor into the mess. “No.”

“All right.”

“But why lie to me?”

“Taylor was standing right there.”

“But later on the phone—”

“I’m sorry. This business isn’t easy. I was tense. I didn’t want to be bothered.”

Lewis blew smoke out. He looked back and saw Salvador watching them through his window.

“I saw you come out of Sal’s,” Manny said. “Looking for some boots?”

“He didn’t have my size.”

“Ain’t that always the way.”

“So, what now?” Lewis asked. “You try to find the body?”

“I guess so.”

“And the killer?”