“I also want to close this case as soon as I can, Captain, but your report has to reach me because procedure demands it. I cannot conclude the process without a report. I am keeping a record of how the details of the proceedings are being executed.”
Chacaltana walked with dignity toward the exit. The captain leaned back in his chair. Just before Chacaltana opened the door, the captain said:
“Is that all?”
Chacaltana stopped. He did not turn around. He knew he had won.
“It is why I have come.”
Chacaltana said this in a firm tone of voice, standing rigid beside the door. The captain demanded confirmation:
“If I give you a report written by my experts and signed by me, there won't be any more problems?”
“The only problem we have is the administrative irregularity that does not allow us to close the case.”
The captain sketched a smile. Then he stopped. He frowned. Chacaltana maintained the imperturbable face of the professional prosecutor. The captain gave a clear laugh.
“Fine, Chacaltana, I understand. I'll speak to my people and get my men together. You'll have your report tomorrow first thing in your office. Thanks for the visit.”
In reality, that was the only thing the Associate District Prosecutor was waiting to hear.
He left police headquarters with the feeling that he had engaged in a great battle and won. Still, he understood the misgivings of the police. He should not forget they were living in a red zone, and that always made people more suspicious.
At that hour everything in the city was closed. No one was in the streets except for an occasional patrol, a leftover of the curfews. He walked through the silent blue night to his house, breathing the clean provincial air. When he reached his house he went to his mother's room. It was cold because the window had been open all day. He apologized as he closed it.
“I'm sorry, Mamacita. I left you alone all day. It's just that this case is very difficult, Mamacita. Very sad. The deceased has no survivors. Can you imagine? How sad.”
Still speaking, he took from a drawer the warmest wool pajamas and laid them out on the sheets.
“If you die without anyone to remember you it's like dying twice. Where can this man's family be? Who'll remember something nice about him, or turn down his bed at night, or give him his pajamas? Nobody at all, Mamacita. Nobody to look at his photograph or say his name at night. Do you see how it is? When someone ceases to exist like that, it's as if he never had existed, as if he had been a ray of sunlight that leaves no trace afterward, when night falls.”
He caressed the pajamas and the sheet. Then he picked up a photograph from the bureau, the one of his mother alone, with her sweet young gaze. He carried it to his room and put it on the table beside his bed, to feel less alone after he closed his eyes.
The next morning, in fact, the police report was lying on his desk. The prosecutor opened it and looked it over. It was very badly written, full of redundancies and spelling mistakes, but the content was simple and legally valid. The police version differed from his hypothesis but contributed definitive proofs suggested by their experience in the investigation of malefactors and homicides. Throughout the day he verified certain data. They were correct. He called police headquarters, where Captain Pacheco answered the phone personally, certified his procedures, and offered all the cooperation at his disposal.
The prosecutor had no ambition to play a leading role. He did not want to engage in controversy or doubt the good faith of institutions. If the competent authorities offered a more solid version of events than his, he accepted it. His job was to facilitate the operation of the forces of law and order, not stand in their way. True, he did feel proud about the change in attitude he had caused in Captain Pacheco, who had overcome his resistance and collaborated, finally, with the greatest efficiency. In the long run, the captain would realize the advantages of cooperation among institutions in times of peace. And thank him.
He accepted the police report as valid and decided to close the case with the information at his disposal. He wrote a report that did not satisfy him on account of its excessive length. He threw it in the wastebasket. He wrote another page but found it full of simplifications and omissions. Again he threw it out and wrote a third page, being especially careful about syntax and punctuation: simple, nothing excessive, sober. As he corrected the commas and tildes, he felt relieved. Images of the burned man would not bother him again. And above all, the channels of inter-institutional communication had proved themselves effective. One more sign of progress.
On Tuesday, the seventh day of March, 2000, when festivities to celebrate Carnival were in progress, an electrical storm was pragmatically verified visually in the highlands of Huancavelica, producing a significant amount of material and personal damage in unpopulated areas.
Subsequently, the aforementioned meteorological phenomenon moved in the direction of the province of Huamanga, where its verification has not been duly corroborated as a consequence of the alcoholic condition of the inhabitants of said province during the abovementioned celebration.
The deceased in question, a one-armed man whose identity could not be established, demonstrating that this is a matter of a traveler and/or foreign tourist, presented himself, due to the abovementioned meteorological conditions, to take shelter for the night in the residence of Nemesio Limanta Huamán (41), who refused the aforesaid permission, although due to the fraternizing that took place on the above-referenced dates, he has no memory in this regard.
Despite the refusal of Nemesio Limanta Huamán (41), the deceased in question had recourse to his prerogative to take shelter for the night, thus committing the crime of breaking and entering and unlawful use of private property, entering the hayloft, said appurtenance serving as well as a repository of kerosene and other combustible liquids utilized in the process of small-scale farming and animal husbandry.
The deceased in question remained in the environs of the hayloft for a period of two days when, in an effort to evade the consequences of his crime, he hid in the straw to avoid being seen by the inhabitants of Quinua, a reason that contributes to the explanation of the general lack of memory with respect to his presence in this locality.
On Wednesday, the eighth day of March, 2000, at approximately the hour of dawn, an electrical charge, caused by unfavorable meteorological conditions, produced in the form of a lightning bolt a fire in the residence of Nemesio Limanta Huamán, precisely in the locale of the hayloft where the abovementioned deceased in question was taking shelter for the night. Struck on his shoulder by the meteorological phenomenon, which opened a wound, and bursting into flames, the deceased in question revealed his ignorance of rural customs when he attempted to extinguish the fire with certain combustible liquids, which, combined with the action of the electrical charge, intensified the process of combustion and deteriorated into a blaze of considerable proportions which, however, due to the dampness of the element of straw, did not spread to other structures on the aforementioned property.
In conclusion, in the corresponding fall to the ground of the aforementioned deceased, his face hit the hay harrows, producing a sharp cruciform puncture wound on the frontal cranial area.
In witness whereof this is signed, on Friday, the seventeenth day of March …
Now it was perfect, with appropriate conjugations and correct pauses. Along with the relief of seeing the report completed, there was also the knowledge that there was no murderer loose in the province. No terrorists. The war was over. Not even a crime of passion. Certainly, concerned with the consequences of his being discovered, Justino Mayta Carazo had fled the prosecutor, who did not believe it necessary to denounce him because of that. His fear was also normal.