sat on the planter where we had found el profe’s head. No one was shining shoes.
Father Gregorio crossed the churchyard and met a well-dressed man in a black western hat at the entrance of the church. They shook hands. Father Gregorio opened the door to the church, allowing the man to pass. Then he followed him inside.
Behind the buildings across from the plaza, the mountain rose tall and steep like a brown monster. My eyes followed a narrow road which climbed up the side of the cliff to the neighborhood of Santacruz, but I couldn’t make out Mosca’s house from here. Above the neighborhood of unpainted concrete houses I could see the giant cross, white against the gray sky. It looked like rain.
I went back to my seat and waited. Gaby had her hands folded on her lap, her fingers moving one over the other like she was counting minutes.
Every now and then we heard voices coming from Captain Pineda’s office. Someone laughed. They seemed to be talking about food somewhere, perhaps Los Pinos, and about a car, and something about the importance of a civic association that would allow and support progress. It made me think of my father. He always talked of progress for Izayoc. I tried not to think about him and my mother, that they had had an accident on the highway. That they might be dead.
Suddenly Gaby stood and marched past the woman’s desk and into Pineda’s office. I was right behind her.
Captain Pineda sat to one side of his desk, smoking a cigarette. Behind the desk was a man I’d never seen before. He was young, tall, light-skinned and wore big reflective sunglasses pulled up on his head. He was leaning back on the chair, his legs stretched out, boots resting on Pineda’s desk, a white cowboy hat on his knee.
Pineda plucked the cigarette out of his mouth. “What is this?”
A man standing by an open window, a hand lost inside his black leather jacket, glanced at an older man on the other side of the room and moved toward us, but the man behind Pineda’s desk raised his hand and stopped him. He stepped back to the window and peeked out at the street.
Then the secretary from the front room stomped in. “Perdón, Capitán. I told them you were busy.”
Gaby lowered her head and glanced at the floor. “It’s just that we were waiting for two hours.” Her voice was a tiny squeak. I could tell she was doing everything she could to keep the pieces from falling. “I thought you were finished.”
“So? This is a private office,” Pineda barked. “You don’t just barge in like that. Do you understand me?”
“It’s about my parents.” Gaby’s lower lip trembled. It gripped my chest, squeezed so hard I couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t care if it’s about the President of the Republic,” Pineda said. “There’s a protocol.”
Gaby touched her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Your business will have to wait until I’m finished with these gentlemen.”
“No, no, Efraín.” The man with the reflective sunglasses gestured toward Gaby. “Come in, please. Tell us what’s going on, señorita.”
Pineda waved at the secretary, who gave us an ugly look and walked out. The man behind the desk eyed Gaby up and down like he was appraising an animal he was about to buy.
“My parents went to Toluca three days ago and we haven’t heard from them,” Gaby said softly.
“Poor creature,” the man behind the desk said. “And you miss them, no?”
“It’s not that. They should have come home by now. Or at least called. And with everything that’s been going on, ¿usted sabe?”
Pineda waved. “Three days is nothing.”
The man behind the desk leaned to the side and eyed Gaby’s legs. Then he smiled to the man by the window. “How do you see it, Pedrito?”
“Like for the races.”
“That’s what I was thinking. A jet-plane, no?”
“Simón.” The man by the window laughed.
My stomach burned. At that moment I hated Pineda and all the men in the room. I wanted to grab Gaby’s hand and pull her out. Run away. Go home. Find my parents.
The man behind the desk ran his index finger back and forth across his chin. “What’s your name, linda?”
Gaby looked away, then at me and back at the man. “Gabriela Flores.”
The men looked at each other.
“Flores, Flores.” The one behind the desk nodded. “Perhaps your father kept company with the wrong people, mi amor.”
“No,” Gaby said. “He’s nothing like that. He’s a family man, a hard worker.”
“People respect him,” I said.
The man behind the desk chuckled.
“Rumor had it, your Papi liked to play around,” Pineda said.
“That’s a lie,” Gaby cried. “And what do you mean, liked? What happened to him?”
The man behind the desk waved. “Don’t mind him. He’s just upset because he’s not getting his way. Isn’t that right, gordo?”
Pineda turned away. Gaby clenched her hands and pressed them against her chest. “Please, did something happen?”
The man behind the desk shook his head real slow. “I know nothing of them, linda. But I do know that no man in this world is completely innocent.”
“Maybe we can call someone in Toluca,” I said.
Pineda laughed. “Like who?”
“I don’t know, the authorities,” I said.
Gaby took my hand and pulled me close to her side. “Maybe there was an accident.”
“Maybe they just wanted to get away from you two brats.” Pineda took a long drag from his cigarette. Everyone except the man behind the desk laughed.
“Por favor,” Gaby pleaded. “Help us.”
“No, no,” the man behind the desk said. “Don’t worry, Gabriela Flores. I’ll look into it for you. I’ll make sure Pineda here gets off his fat ass and makes some inquiries on your behalf. We’ll find your parents.” Then he turned to Pineda, “Right, gordo?”
Captain Pineda shoved the cigarette back in his mouth and turned away.
“I said, right, gordo?”
Pineda grinned. “Sure, efectivamente.”
The man behind the desk smiled at Gaby. “Joaquín Carrillo, at your service.”
Gaby nodded. “Mucho gusto.”
“If
