“Roberto, did Felicia help you find your huevos?”
“What?”
“Your balls.”
Bob blushed, a sly grin on his face. Amado smacked him on the back.
“He’s ready.”
Esteban sipped his cappuccino.
“You ready, Roberto?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
Esteban got serious.
“I’ll tell you something about the police. Las placas can tell when you’re lying. They got some kind of sense about it. So the secret is simple. Do not lie. Tell them the truth. Maybe not the whole truth. But you tell them enough of the truth and they’ll believe you.”
“Because I’m telling the truth.”
“Exacto. And remember, you’re not excited. You’re upset. This thing with your girlfriend was very upsetting.”
“I should be depressed?”
Amado joined in.
“Yes, a little sad, I think.”
“But I’d be lying. I’m not sad.”
Amado and Esteban exchanged looks.
“So you were celebrating after your breakup?”
Bob smiled at the men.
“I was celebrating.”
“Bueno. Whatever is the most honest.”
Bob finished his coffee and put it down on the table.
“Where’s the arm?”
Esteban pointed.
“In the fridge.”
It felt strange to be back behind the wheel of the delivery car. Bob clicked on the radio, which was still tuned to the same station he’d been listening to before his life had changed so radically. Bob knew that he’d have to work at the lab for a week or two, then give notice. He had to be smart about it, he couldn’t just walk in and quit. That might give away the fact that he’d been up to something. Unless he got fired. That would work.
As he drove toward Parker Center he thought about Felicia. He compared her to Maura. He couldn’t help himself. He started to chastise himself for all the time he’d wasted being with her when he could’ve been with Felicia. But then he realized that he’d been happy with Maura. They’d had fun together. They’d loved each other. Maybe it wasn’t the intense love he felt for Felicia, but it wasn’t a waste. Maybe if he hadn’t been with Maura he wouldn’t have been ready for a woman like Felicia. Bob began to wonder if the world really was random like he’d always thought. Maybe there was a kind of plan to everything after all. It sure seemed like it.
Bob was beginning to believe in something. The higher power that the drunks and dope fiends talk about. The force, like in Star Wars. The laws of karma. The will of Allah. Jah love. It was real. He could feel it.
Don was pissed. He had left specific instructions with the evidence room clerk that the minute, no, the second that the arm was delivered they were to call him and detain the delivery guy. But they hadn’t. In fact, they hadn’t even called him and told him the arm had been delivered. He’d had to call down to ask.
Don didn’t wait for the elevator. He took the stairs, running down two at a time. He’d had a hunch that Bob was a normal, honest guy. That he’d been distraught over being dumped. And who wouldn’t with a woman like Maura? Still, after he got the arm sent over for fingerprints and DNA testing, he’d track Bob down and have a little chat with him. Help him get his priorities straight.
Don went into the evidence room. He tried to hide his annoyance, not that the clerk would’ve noticed. The clerk, a pudgy guy with extremely thick blond eyebrows, showed him the cooler. Don popped the lid and looked in. There it was. The arm last seen on the floor of Carlos Vila’s garage. Now Don would find out who it belonged to. Because he still couldn’t figure out why they’d leave Carlos’s body but take the body of the second victim. It just didn’t make sense.
This was the part of his job that he enjoyed. Taking a collection of seemingly unrelated evidence and information and slowly piecing together a picture of what had happened. It was like archeology.
The clerk looked over his shoulder.
“That’s what you were waiting for?”
“Yeah.”
“Do I need to keep it cold?”
“Just keep it in the cooler.”
“You want me to send it to the lab?”
Don looked at the clerk.
“Yes.”
The clerk was oblivious to Don’s sarcastic tone.
“Okay.”
“Can you put a rush on it?”
“You have to call the lab for that.”
“All right. You get it over there right away and I’ll call the lab.”
The clerk nodded.
“I can do that.”
Maura was beginning to lose her patience. It wasn’t like her, but this new client just wasn’t getting it. Not that he was nervous or inhibited. In fact, he couldn’t wait to take off his clothes and wave his hard-on at her. But his motion, his stroke, it was spastic. Herky-jerky. She spoke to him softly, trying to get him to slow down, smooth out, enjoy the sensations. But he couldn’t do it. Like he had Tourette’s syndrome in his right arm.
It was the opposite of her night with Don. A night filled with smooth, gliding sensations. Their bodies linking up in the same rhythm.
Watching this guy was like chewing aluminum foil or hearing someone run their fingernails across a blackboard. It was horrible.
Maura couldn’t take it anymore. She impulsively did something she’d sworn she’d never do. She stopped him and took his cock in her hand.
“Here, let me show you.”
She jacked him off in a jiffy.
Amado sat on the couch watching his telenovela. It was a slow day on the hacienda. Fernando was up to something and Gloria was busy seducing the local padre. Amado was hoping that the priest wouldn’t fall for her cheap come-on. You decide to dedicate your life to the Church, then that’s what you do. It’s your calling.
Amado had a calling. He had devoted his life to thieving, fucking, and drinking. He embraced the sins of the flesh. He celebrated them by turning his body into an icon of carnal acts. He’d have to be loco to go into a church and declare himself a man worthy of God’s everlasting love. Just like the padre would have to be loco to suddenly fall into Gloria’s arms.
He could see that the padre was tempted; who wouldn’t be, looking down into Gloria’s cleavage, which was as deep and mysterious as the Marianas Trench, but Amado hoped that the padre would come to his senses, have a little integrity. The padre needed to remember why he’d chosen the path of God and resist the fleeting joys that Gloria offered. Otherwise he could never hold mass again.
Norberto and Martin entered the house. Norberto was filthy. He took his shoes off at the front door so as not to track dirt through the house.
“Hola.”
Amado looked up from the TV.
“Hola, pendejo. ¿Cómo fue?”
“Bien. Todo bien.”
Martin chimed in.
“Everything’s cool.”
“Curado, vato.”
Amado could tell from their body language that everything was not cool. But he played it off. Martin shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“Is Esteban here?”
“He went home.”
Martin nodded.
“Maybe I’ll give him a call. Just to, you know, check in.”
“You do that.”
“Is your arm still here?”
“It’s in the fridge.”
Martin nodded.
“We should get rid of it.”
“Why?”
Norberto piped up.
“It’s evidence, man.”