“You have come looking for a man once an acquaintance of Colonel Sir’s.”
“Yes. I’ve brought data to help—”
“I do not believe we have such a man on Hispaniola.” She opened a cardboard folder and referred to a printout dossier. “Goldsmith. We have many poets, black and white, but not him.”
“An airline ticket to Hispaniola purchased by Goldsmith was used.”
“Perhaps by a friend.”
“Perhaps. But we were told you’d cooperate with our investigation.”
“We have already searched for him. He is not here unless perhaps he has gone to the hills, to work lumber or mine copper. Not likely?”
Mary shook her head. “We were offered a chance to conduct our own search.”
“Les Oncs are thorough,” Aide Lopez said. “We are highly trained professionals like yourself. It is unfortunate that your colleagues cannot join us.”
Mary glanced up again at the unframed paintings on stretched canvas and wood panel, eyes drawn by the brilliant primal colors. Gods in formal and party dress hovered over voluptuous women and sternfaced men, trees spread open vaginally to admit secret glimpses of skeletons, gaily colored Tap-Tap buses carried a wedding party to the hills.
“My department isn’t involved in any federal disputes with Colonel Yardley,” Mary said. “I’m looking for a man who killed eight young people with no reason. I have been told your government would give me proper authority to arrest him and remove him from the island.”
“That is no longer proper. Tit for tat, the winds blow this way now. There is only so much we can do but assure you that we have looked. Goldsmith the murderer is not here. He did not arrive on any recent flights.”
Mary looked at Soulavier, who leaned his head to one side and smiled in complete sympathy.
“You’ll allow me to look on my own?” she asked.
“A big undertaking. Hispaniola is a very large island, mostly mountains. If he is here and we have missed him—not likely! believe me—he has probably gone to the caves or to the forests, and that is a search of months for a thousand inspectors. Easier to find a flea in a room full of papier chiffonné.”
Aide Lopez twitched her shoulder like a horse wrinkling its skin to shoo a fly. She reached up to smooth the black cloth there, fixed her eye on Mary and said, “I can see you are doubtful. As professional courtesy while you are on our island, if you wish, we will work to give you support.”
“I’d be very grateful. Is there any way my colleagues can join me?”
Lopez pointed two fingers like a pistol barrel at Soulavier as if to cue him for an answer. He smiled and inclined his head, shook it tragically. “That is with Colonel Sir,” he said. “He is firm. No visitors from the mainland.” His expression brightened. “We have opposition to fear!”
Mary did not understand that—did he mean they were opposed to fear?
“Yes!” he exclaimed as if she had just expressed great disbelief. “Colonel Sir has his enemies, and not just on the mainland. We must be watchful. That is part of our job too.”
“We show a generosity to our enemies that would have been unheard of two generations past,” Aide Lopez said with faint regret.
Mary felt the room becoming hot though the building was air conditioned. Mouse in a box. Being helpless made her angry but she would no more show that anger than show her fear. “You make my job very difficult,” she said. “As one policeman to two confreres, surely there’s something you can do to help me.”
Aide Lopez furrowed her brow. “If there is time you will meet with the Inspector General. I will try to arrange it for this morning or afternoon. Aide Soulavier will wait with you. Perhaps a walk on the beach, relaxation, something to eat. There is fine food on the beach. We always take our afternoon meal on the beach.”
Aide Lopez pushed back her ancient rolling chair and stood, matching Mary’s height and adding ten centimeters of high-peaked cap that suited neither her job nor her physique. Now Aide Lopez resembled a somber clown mocking police. Her expression was relaxed and unconcerned. She looked around the walls at her collection, turned back to Mary and said, “These are my windows.”
Mary nodded. “Very attractive.”
“Valuable. Thousands of dollars, tens of thousands of gourdes. I inherited them from my mother. Many of these artists were her lovers. I do not choose artists for my lovers. They have no sense of propriety.”
Mary smiled ironically, then turned and followed Soulavier, who preceded her along the serpent tiles. “Yes,” he mused. “It would be best for you to meet the Inspector General. You have a good point that we are all police together, with common goals. You should tell that to the Inspector General.”
Mary asked how long it might be before she could meet with Legar but decided that would be a small sign of weakness. Patience and no misstepping. She might be on Hispaniola for a long time.
The waters of the bay were brilliant blue green and sparkling clean; the beach was almost empty of tourists this early. A few young Haitians in civic sanitation uniforms fanned simple metal detectors over the sand. Soulavier purchased two fried pompano and two beers from a lone boardwalk vendor and spread out this feast on a blanket on the sand. Mary sat crosslegged and ate the delicious fish, sipping the native brew. She did not enjoy beer often but this was acceptable.
Soulavier frowned pleasantly at the scavengers and their detectors. “Hard to lose habits,” he said. “Hispaniolans are very economical and thrifty. We remember in our bones when every piece of scrap and every aluminum can was a wealth. These boys and girls and their mothers and fathers, they have employment. They might work in the hotels or casinos. They might have a papa or mama in the army. Maybe they are training for army themselves. Still they have economy and thriftiness.”
“A lot has changed,” Mary said.
“He has done so much for us. Because of him there is little prejudice on Hispaniola now. That is a true miracle. Marrons do not feel hatred for griffons or for noirs or les blancs. All are equal. My father told me once there were forty shades of recognized distinction.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Colonel Sir is a worker of miracles, Mademoiselle. Why the world hates him we do not know.”
Mary’s instinctive liking for Soulavier had been wrapped in tissue and quickly stored away upon discovering his true employment, but it had not been disposed of. He still seemed genuine and unaffected.
“I’m not very well informed on international politics,” she said. “I keep my eyes on Los Angeles. That’s world enough for me.”
“It is a great city. All the world’s people live there, go there. Twenty five millions! That is more than all Hispaniola. We would have more if it had not been for the plague.”
Mary nodded. “We envy you your crime rate.”
“True, it is very low. Hispaniolans have always known to share. Having nothing for so long makes a man generous.”
Mary smiled. “It might make a Hispaniolan generous.”
“Yes, I see, I see.” Soulavier laughed. His every move was like a dance; his whole body flexed gracefully even when he sat with a half-eaten fish in his hands. “We are a good people. My people have deserved so much for so long. You see why there is loyalty here. But why is there distrust and hatred outside?”
He was trying to draw her out. The conversation might after all be less than innocent.
“As I said, I’m not very current on foreign affairs.”
“Then tell me about Los Angeles. I have been taught a little. Someday perhaps I will go there but Hispaniolans seldom travel.”
“It’s a very complicated city,” she said. “You can find nearly anything human in Los Angeles, good and bad. I don’t think it would be workable as a city without mental therapy.”