Silver Bullets by Élmer Mendoza, Mark Fried Page B

see how it felt to confront a potentate, then came over to greet him with the cordiality of a politician: Come with me in here. People were talking in little groups, he could see the brother and his friends making a few girls smile; among the friends, one who was elegantly dressed caught his eye, where have I seen him before? They sat down in an office big enough to hold eight of the detective’s little cubicle.
    Tell me what makes you so anxious to see me. Your son was murdered with a silver bullet by someone who knew him; Engineer Canizales, you are a very important man with numerous friends and enemies, have you received any threats? Nonewhatsoever, and there was sufficient distance between myself and my son that my enemies would take that into account, I know he was a great lawyer, but it has been more than four years since we last spoke, don’t ask me why; I will ask the district attorney to suspend the investigation and you will be able to move on to another case; I am not interested in knowing the identity or the fate of my son’s murderer, pause, firm gesture, icy glower, so don’t waste your time, I know what country I live in and what can be avoided, if you will excuse me I must return to my friends, he stood up. Do you know why the DA’s office already called asking for the same thing? Impasse during which no one dares touch a thing. Aha, like Bruno used to say when he was little: Do you swear? My brother was the same way, yes, I swear. Detective, I have serious differences with the district attorney, if he ordered the investigation suspended then I will make sure it continues right to the end, even though the results are still immaterial to me. Okay, I trust you will treat this delicately with District Attorney Bracamontes. Carry on, Detective, I will call for an update, any other questions? What fragrance is this? Canizales started for the door. I have no idea. Neither did the detective, rumors are flying that your party is going to make a shift and the lucky one will be you. I cannot speak to what has not occurred. What I meant was that you can count on my vote. Thank you. Did Bruno have a room here? No, he rarely stayed here, and when he did he slept in his brother’s room. The narcos had your son in their sights, he was threatened by Marcelo Valdés, did you know that? No, and seriously, Detective, the last thing I want is for this to snowball, especially if those people are involved. Mendieta looked at him: Thank you, Engineer, don’t forget that you can count on my vote and the votes of my family.
    Under the arbor no one was speaking. Wasps flitted from one sombrero to another. A woman dressed in black asked himto approach. Thin. Pale as death. Hands transparent. Are you from the police? Edgar Mendieta of the State Ministerial Police, at your service. I am Bruno’s mother, I don’t know how to prove it, but I am certain he had him killed, he’s a bastard, a monster who will burn in hell. Her mouth was twisted with hatred. What makes you think it was him? Because he has never had any scruples and he did not approve of my boy’s lifestyle; his ambition is boundless, do you know who he has brought into his circle? The scum of his party, she looked at him, her eyes dry. On Thursday night, did your son speak with you after ten o’clock? He called from Mazatlán; he was happy, he told me he was by the sea. Beltrán came hurrying over, followed by two nurses: Enough, Mendieta, you’ll see what you’ll get for sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong; señora, you should rest. The nurses took charge of the woman, who did not say a word. Beltrán faced the detective: You can scram. I could also stay and have a drink with these people. You’re a dumbass, he said, heading off as quickly as he had come. Mendieta smiled happily.
    “Two gangsta-wraps, each with its coup de grâce, were found in a rural area along the highway to Imala; Commander Moisés Pineda, chief of the antinarcotics unit of the