I shrugged. “I suppose like Meche they’re left to cross the Land of the Dead on foot. That’s what you said when we first met and it still makes sense to me.”
“But can we so sure of that, my friend?” Salvador asked. His pacing resumed. “Only your Meche is positively known to have set out on foot, and she has not been heard from since. As for all the others, if they on foot as well, why is there no rumor of them? Surely, were genuine saints walking without hope across the Land of the Dead, such a thing would become known.”
I blew a few smoke rings while I thought about that and about what Sal had left unsaid: that there was no news of Meche, either. Finally I said, “But that’s assuming that these saints are known to be saints. They’re usually pretty humble and unassuming, you know.”
“This is true,” Salvador said, “but even so, it seems incredible that hundreds of saints could have been robbed of their destinies and left to their own resources without some whisper of this being spread abroad.”
“I guess I’m not sure what your point is, Sal,” I admitted.
“It is just this, Manueclass="underline" I am coming to the belief that the victims are being put out of the way by the LeMans organization. The silence surrounding their fate is far too complete.”
“Do you think they’re being sprouted?” I asked, chilled by the implications.
“I do not know. I am inclined to think not as disposing of the remains would be difficult and their eventual discovery would alert the authorities that something was amiss.”
“And yet there are sproutings going on, you know, more than there have been.”
“This also is true, but in many cases they are fallen LSA agents. Oh, yes, my friend,” he added when he saw my shocked expression. “We are taking casualties.” He paused for a moment. “And the rest,” he continued, “are also established residents of the Land of the Dead, not new arrivals. I have been making careful inquiries, and I know of no instances of the newly-deceased having been sprouted.” Salvador sighed. “No, Manuel, something else must be happening to these pure, lost souls. Therefore we must have agents spread out across the Land of the Dead, for I believe that our enemies have already done so.”
“And Puerto Zapato is the biggest city after Rubacava. I get you.”
“Excellent,” Salvador said. “Your cell must recruit another who will then be sent to Zapato. First, however, the new recruit must be sent to El Marrow for training. Alexi should accompany him. Afterward, Gunnar and Slisko.” He looked at his watch. “I must go now. I have already made arrangements with Glottis to take me back to El Marrow immediately. He is waiting for me where your car is kept.” He held out his hand. “Farewell, my friend. You have done well.”
“Thanks, Sal.” I stubbed out my cigarette and stood. “Do you need me to show you the way?”
“There is no need. Glottis himself showed me the way earlier today while you were occupied with other matters.”
“Don’t want to be seen with me, huh?” I was kidding.
Sal was serious. “As you have brought the subject up, yes, I think it best that we are not seen in each other’s company more than we have been. Eva and I are also seldom seen together in public.”
“Security,” I said.
“Regrettably true.” He gave me his hand to shake. “¡Viva la Revolución!” He quickly slipped out the door and was gone.
I used Glottis as a go-between in my dealings with Alexi until the club was completed, taking to heart Salvador’s concerns about appearing in public with other LSA agents (but once the club had been finished, Alexi was again delivering supplies for the restaurant and so he had a natural reason to be there every day). After making the choice of agent for Puerto Zapato, Alexi and the new guy were off to El Marrow for formal LSA training (something I had never done). Soon after they returned, Gunnar and Alexi went to El Marrow. I passed on to Alexi through Glottis enough money to get the new recruit to Puerto Zapato. After that the Rubacava branch of the LSA settled into a quiet routine.
Alexi and his gang continued to agitate on the docks while they kept their ear holes to the ground for me. Occasionally they passed along interesting bits of news and gossip… mostly gossip. Anything that seemed worth passing on went to Salvador. I kept in touch with Membrillo, the coroner, out of ‘concern’ over the sproutings that had been going on, and through him got plugged into police chatter. More sprouted souls were being found every now and then around town and Max was getting madder and madder, according to both Lola (who was spending a lot of her off time at the track) and Membrillo. And Max told me himself that he was now convinced that some outside gang was responsible, but he wouldn’t go into details. And then, a few weeks after that, the sproutings slowed and returned to the once-in-a-blue-moon rate they had been since before I arrived in Rubacava. Max seemed proud of that, as if he’d had a hand in the change.
As the work on the club neared completion, we started hearing stories of the Petrified Forest being ‘haunted’. Pretty strange, considering we were all dead. But travelers sometimes told tales of hearing odd sounds or seeing movement that didn’t seem like any known forest demon. Some of the stories were pretty wild and I didn’t think there was anything to them. I didn’t see any point in passing ghost stories on to Salvador.
Calavera Cafe
LSA business aside, I became increasingly concerned about putting the final touches on the club. The construction junk was finally cleared off the property and we were down to the interior-decorating stage. We were just about ready for the grand opening when there was another little surprise, but a pleasant one this time. Lola and I were in the casino having the hundredth argument about whether the craps table should be near the door or in a far corner when I heard something unexpected from the restaurant.
“Lola,” I asked, a little puzzled, “is that a piano I hear?”
“Yeah,” she said. “What were you expecting?”
I hadn’t been expecting anything. “Did someone turn the canned music on for some reason?”
Lola cocked her head. “It’s Tuesday.”
“It feels like it,” I said with a shrug. “So?”
“So, Tuesday was the day the piano was supposed to be delivered.”
Now I was really confused. “Delivered? Who ordered a piano? I didn’t. Did you?”
“It was Glottis’ idea. Didn’t you know? He thought the restaurant needed live entertainment.”
“No, I didn’t know.” I was getting a little steamed. “Why didn’t anyone say something about this to me before?”
“Sorry, Manny,” Lola said quietly. “I was sure you knew. Glottis is half owner.”
“Yeah, he is,” I sighed. “I just don’t like the idea of hiring a piano player, too. We’ve got enough staff as it is.”
Lola laughed. “Hire a piano player? You’ve got one already!”
The penny dropped. “You mean that was Glottis playing!”
“Yeah. He must’ve been giving it a spin.”
I shook my head and walked out into the restaurant. There in the middle was an ivory-colored upright piano and Glottis polishing it with a rag. I went over and leaned against the piano and said, “Nice set of keys you’ve got here.”
“Yeah,” Glottis beamed. “Sounds sweet, too.”
“Too bad you forgot to say anything to me about it.”