Percival Everett: The Body of Martin Aguilera

The first day of her visit Laura asked if the light in the refrigerator stayed on when the door was shut. Lewis Mason told his granddaughter that it didn’t matter. “It may well stay on,” he said, putting water on for tea, “but it doesn’t matter.”

“May I have tea, too?” Laura asked, pulling up a chair and sitting at the table.

“You may have herb tea.”

“You’re not drinking herb tea.”

“Herb tea isn’t good for me.” He dropped the bags into the mugs.

“Is the other tea good for you?”

“It doesn’t put me to sleep.”

Laura watched as he poured the water. He set the mug down in front of her and she grabbed the string and began dunking the bag in and out of the water. “What are we going to do today?”

“We’re going to town for some groceries, but first I thought we’d stop and see old Martin.”

“Who’s he?”

“He’s somebody even older than me. He knows all the good fishing spots and when they’re good.”

“When are we going fishing?”

“Tomorrow, maybe.” Lewis sipped his tea. “Drink up so we can get rolling here.”

They drove down the dirt road three miles to the highway and then north, crossed back over the river and followed a rougher road into the canyon.

“Martin!” Lewis called out, walking toward the little adobe. “It’s me, Lewis Mason.” He told his granddaughter that the man had few visitors.

“Doesn’t look like he’s home,” Laura said.

“It’s pretty quiet all right.” Lewis stepped to the door and knocked. “Martin?” He pushed the door open.

The old man was lying face-down in the middle of the room. There was blood on the floor by his head.

“Laura, you wait out here, okay?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Outside, Laura.”

The girl backed away from the door. “What is it, Papa?”

“Just stay there.” He knelt beside the body and slowly pushed his hand forward. He rested his palm on Martin’s back, moved it up to his neck. He found no pulse.

“Papa?”

Lewis came out of the house and hugged her. He looked up the canyon and became frightened. “Come on, honey, we have to go make a phone call.”

As Lewis stood at the pay phone outside of Archuleta’s Cafe on the river, he realized that he was saying killed within earshot of his granddaughter. The sheriff told him to wait there at the cafe.

“You said he was real sick,” Laura said.

“Yeah, I said that, but it’s not exactly true. Maybe Martin fell down and hit his head, something like that. Anything could have happened.” Lewis looked at the river. Who would want to kill the old man? He was harmless, without a cent. Everyone knew he had nothing. And if they didn’t know him, they’d never find his place. Lewis shook his head.

“Are you all right, Papa?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. What about you? Are you all right?” She nodded.

“That’s my girl. We have to wait here for a few minutes.”

Manny Mondragon pulled up in his county rig and spoke to Lewis through the window. “Climb in and let’s go take a look.” Lewis and Laura got in.

“So, why don’t you tell me exactly what you saw, prof.”

“I didn’t look around too much. Martin is lying in the middle of the room. There’s blood.” Then Lewis recalled that the body had been face-down. He hadn’t actually seen the face of the dead man. “I didn’t really see his face,” he said. “I didn’t want to touch things too much.”

“That’s all right,” Mondragon said.

“It had to be Martin. He had Martin’s build, his clothes.”

“It’s okay, prof, we’ll be there in a minute and we’ll see what the story is.”

Lewis felt stupid. All he had to do was lift the head and take a look. But he had been sure then that it was Martin. He suspected that the governing part of him just didn’t want to see Martin’s lifeless face.

“You’re sure the person was dead?” Mondragon asked.

“I’m positive of that.” Lewis closed his fingers around Laura’s hand, showed her a half-smile which she returned.

“Why would anyone want to hurt Martin?” Lewis wondered aloud.

“Got me,” said Mondragon. “Not money, that’s a cinch.”

The car skidded to a stop on the dry dirt. They got out and walked to the house. Lewis stopped and pointed.

“I left the door open,” he said.

Mondragon moved more quickly, stepped inside. Lewis stopped Laura and followed the officer. There was no body, no blood, but there was a stain on the floor.

“He was right here,” Lewis said. “I touched him.”

“I believe you, but he’s not here now.”

“So, what do you do?” Lewis asked.

“Look around. Somebody moved him or he wasn’t dead. If somebody moved him, then they left signs. There’s only one road into here and it comes out at the cafe. You notice anybody come out?”

“I would have seen them.”

Mondragon scratched his neck, then stepped outside and looked up the canyon. He lowered himself to a knee beside Laura. “And what’s your name?”

“Laura.”

“Can you tell me what you saw, Laura?”

“I saw a man on the floor. Papa made me wait out here.”

“Did you see the blood?”

“All I saw was his feet.”

Mondragon stood and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “I’m going to take a look around.” He walked off toward a stand of aspens up the canyon.

Laura looked at her grandfather.

“The body’s not there,” Lewis said.

The girl hugged Lewis about the waist. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry, honey, everything’s under control.” A sound like a rock striking the ground came from the side of the cabin. Laura clutched tighter. Another sound, sharper, like the crack of wood. “I’m going to look.” He held her away and looked at her. “Stay right here.”

“Okay.”

“Better go get in the car.” He watched the girl run to the truck and get in. He approached the side of the house, quickly, deciding that if indeed there was anyone there, he already knew of his presence. He found nothing but a tassel-eared squirrel which scurried off into the brush. Lewis’ heart pounded.

“Prof!” the sheriff called out.

Lewis went back around the way he had come. Mondragon was kneeling. Laura was out of the truck and beside him.

“See anything up in the canyon?” Lewis said.

Mondragon coughed into his fist and shook his head. “No tracks, nothing brushed over.”

“Manny, I know what I saw.”

“And I believe you, but what can I say? I’ll make a report, scout around and ask questions, get some help and search the canyon, get people mad at me and try not to mention your name.”

Lewis questioned the younger man with his eyes.

“People around here are superstitious,” Mondragon said. “No point in getting them mad at you or whatever else. A dead man is one thing. A dead man without a body is something else.”

“I see your point. So, are you telling me to keep this to myself?”

“I can’t think of any reason for you to tell anyone. Can you?”

“I guess not.”

Mondragon looked back up the canyon.

“So, what happens?” Lewis asked.

“Like I said, I’ll come back later and look around.”

“Manny, there was a man, at least unconscious, I think dead, on the floor in there. I’m not making this up.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Then why do I feel like you do?”

“Just settle down.”

“I’m sorry.”

The sheriff took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “I understand. I hope he’s okay, too. The old man’s probably down there fishing somewhere. If there wasn’t a thing living in that river, he’d still throw in a line.”