“It’s a holiday.”
“What holiday?”
“I don’t know. Somebody just told me, ‘Hey, man, you don’t got to go to school today, it’s a holiday.’ Watch your car for a quarter?”
“All right.”
He paid the money. The boy climbed on the hood of the car, leaned back against the windshield and lit the butt of a cigar he’d picked up from the road.
Aragon said, “You watch cars around here all the time?”
“Sure, man.”
“I bet you know a lot of people in the neighborhood.”
“I got eyes, don’t I?”
“I’m looking for an American named Harry Jenkins. I was told he lives in a room above Reynoso’s.”
“Whoever told you’s got eyes, too. That’s where he lives, Harry Jenkins. Some cheapskate. Never gave me a dime.”
“Reynoso’s shop is closed.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“For one of the dimes Jenkins never gave you, will you tell me how I can get up to his room?”
“You a hustler, man?”
“Let’s just say that the members of my profession are sometimes called hustlers.”
“Yeah? Okay, then. There’s an alley four, five doors down, takes you straight to Reynoso’s outside stairs.”
The boy pocketed the dime and settled back against the windshield to enjoy the final inch of the cigar.
Jenkins’ door was locked. When Aragon knocked on it, it felt flimsy as though it would collapse like cardboard if he leaned against it too heavily. He wrote a note and pushed it underneath the door:
Mr. Jenkins:
I am offering a fair price for any information you might have about B. J. Lockwood. If you are interested, please contact me at the Hotel Castillo.
He returned to the hotel and tried for the third time to put through a call to Gilly. The telefonista must have had a refreshing siesta, she sounded almost human: “You wish to speak personally to Mrs. Marco Decker, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“I may have a line for you now. Hold on.”
After about five minutes of back-and-forth chatter in two languages, a man answered the phone. “Hello.” A certain note of petulance in the man’s tone identified him as Reed Robertson, Marco Decker’s nurse.
“I have a person-to-person call for Mrs. Marco Decker. Is Mrs. Decker there?”
“Hold on.” Reed raised the pitch of his voice about an octave. “This is Mrs. Decker, operator. I’ll take the call.”
“Your party is on the line, sir. Go ahead.”
“Hello, Reed.”
“That you, Aragon?”
“Yes.”
“She’s in the pool. Violet Smith just took her out a robe, so she’ll be here in a minute. Listen, amigo, she’s burned up because she hasn’t heard from you.”
“She burns easy. It’s only Monday.”
“Any trace of B. J.?”
“ ‘Trace’ just about covers it. I found his ex-partner, though.”
“Harry Jenkins.”
“I gather Mrs. Decker has confided in you.”
“The old girl has to talk to somebody. It was a toss-up between me and Violet Smith. I won. If you want to call it winning.”
“What do you call it?”
“I call it a living,” Reed said. “Speaking of living, where’s Jenkins doing his, in some castle in the sky?”
“Over Reynoso’s shoemaking shop on Avenida Gobernador. I might say he’s on his uppers if I went in for bad puns.”
“So Jenlock Haciendas never got off the ground.”
“No. All the other news is bad, too.”
“How bad?”
Gilly came on the line. “Aragon? What’s this about bad? Have you found B. J.?”
“No.”
“That’s not exactly bad, is it? I mean, it’s just nothing. How is that bad?”
“B. J. seems to have disappeared.”
“From where?”
“The jail in Rio Seco.”
“Did you say jail?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing in jail?”
“Like all the others in there, he was waiting to get out.”
“Don’t get sharp with me, dammit.”
“I’m trying not to,” Aragon said. “I don’t like delivering news like this any more than you like receiving it.”
“Why was he sent to jail? B. J. wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Flies don’t invest money in real estate developments. People do, and when they discover they’ve been swindled they complain to the police. B. J. and Jenkins were picked up in Bahía de Ballenas. While they were waiting trial B. J. disappeared. One of the other inmates told me he’d been ill and upset and the guards had to give him stuff to calm him down. ‘Stuff’ was the word used. It could have been anything.”
“Oh God, poor B. J.”
She began to cry. Aragon could hear Reed trying to soothe her: Buck up, old girl. Stop it now. Here, here’s a drink. That’s a good girl...
When things quieted down, Aragon continued, “I may get more information tonight or tomorrow. I haven’t talked to Harry Jenkins, but I found out where he’s living and left a note for him.”
“Left a note? You should have waited for him, camped on his doorstep if necessary.”
“He didn’t have a doorstep. He didn’t even have much of a door.”
“Give me his phone number. I want to talk to him myself.”
“I guess I’m not getting through to you, Mrs. Decker. Jenkins is broke. That’s the main reason I expect to hear from him. I offered him money for information about B. J.”
There was a long interval of silence. Then, “Where’s the girl, Tula?”
“I have no recent news about her. When the two men were arrested she went with them to Rio Seco. The word is that she wanted to get away from Bahía de Ballenas and the child, too.”
“Away from her own child?”
“He’s retarded as well as crippled, Mrs. Decker... Now don’t start crying again. The boy’s safe, he’s being looked after by relatives. Mexican families are very close-knit, as I mentioned to you before, and retarded children aren’t considered undesirable.”
“Have you nothing decent, nothing pleasant to tell me?”
“I think it’s both decent and pleasant that Pablo is being taken care of. He’s luckier in many ways than his American cousins.”
“How long ago did they leave him there?”
“Four years. He’s eight now, chronologically. Mentally, perhaps three. There is no way he could fit into your life, Mrs. Decker.”
“I never thought he could,” she said quietly. “I just hoped a little bit. If it were only a matter of his being crippled, I could have paid for doctors, operations... Now, of course, I realize that it’s impossible. I wish I’d never been told of his existence. Maybe B. J. told me deliberately to rouse my sympathy so I’d send him the money he asked for. If I could believe that, it would make it easier for me to accept — what I’m afraid you’re going to find out.”
“Which is?”
“That he’s dead, he died in jail and they dragged him out and buried him like a common criminal.” He heard her take a long deep breath as if to regain control of herself. “Okay, all the news is bad so far. What’s the next step?”
“I’ll talk to Jenkins.”
“Suppose he doesn’t know anything?”
“Then I’d better quit wasting your money and come home.”
“Call me after you’ve seen him. And thanks, by the way, for leveling with me, even though I didn’t like it. The truth hurts... I wonder who first discovered that.”
“Probably Adam.”
“The little boy, does he seem happy?”
“He seems not unhappy. He gets affection and enough food to eat, and he has children to play with who aren’t much more advantaged than he is. You could present a bigger problem to him than any he has now, Mrs. Decker.”