An image of the face of Mrs. MacElroy, an older parishioner, came to mind, her thin lipped mouth saying she was sorry to hear about his wife, her cold blue eyes suggesting something else.
“Maybe if I had been a better husband, I wouldn’t have lost my wife to another man.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” said Elena in a gentle voice.
He shrugged. “Maybe. Mostly there was sympathy and anger and sadness. They said they wanted me to stay, but I couldn’t. It was too painful. You see, I loved my wife. Maybe I still do. I tried to get help for her drinking, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She was the classic alcoholic — nothing wrong with her, it was the rest of the world.”
Elena put her arm around his back. “I’m sorry, Dominic. I don’t know what made me ask.”
“No, it helped to voice the words and meet that dragon head on.” He turned to her. “But enough of my problems. You have some of your own. I have a hunch that our inspector Oliveros is involved in the smuggling operation you’ve uncovered. Why else would he try to pin the blame on you?”
“That’s a chilling thought, and you may be right. I’ll track him down tomorrow to give him the St. Jude medal and see where the investigation is going. Hopefully, not in my direction. And we still need to find those boys.”
Ten
Elena didn’t have to seek out the inspector. He came to her. He arrived early the next morning while she was at the breakfast table.
After spending the evening with Dominic she felt better, even with his shocking confession. They had shared their problems, and neither one had to carry the full burden of them. With the aid of the martinis, she’d had no problem falling asleep and slept the night through, a dreamless sleep without the specter of murder and the worry of what lay in the future.
She had hummed her way through her morning shower and dressed in standard khaki shorts and tank top, not knowing exactly what the day would bring. Her improved humor took a sharp turn south when she saw the inspector’s face. He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen where she sat finishing her second cup of café con leche. Her empty plate, scraped clean of huevos revueltos, still sat on the table. A bowl of sliced fruit, mango and papaya with lime that she had been eyeing, sat in the middle of the table.
She set down her cup. “Buenas días, inspector. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Buenas días, doctora Palomares. I’m sorry to disturb you at such an early hour.”
He wasn’t wearing his uniform, which was odd. He had on nondescript long pants and a short sleeved shirt.
“Do you have the day off?” she asked.
The man ducked his head. Without the uniform his arrogance seemed to have taken a holiday, the standoff of the day before forgotten. Worry had followed him in the door, hovering over his shoulder.
“That is what I came to talk to you about.”
“Would you have a cup of coffee?”
“No, I cannot stay. Excuse me for interrupting your breakfast, but I have come to speak to you in private.” He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to shred the baseball cap he held in both hands.
Elena waited. She could feel her insides squeeze together like an accordion, so tight she found it difficult to breathe, while she waited for him to get on with what he had to say.
“You see, I don’t know how to tell you. Have you listened to the news on TV?”
Elena shook her head. National, international news was the last thing on her mind. She was part of the local news and that was all she could cope with.
“It is all over the news about what happened here in Copan Ruinas. Even it is on the international news. We are famous, unfortunately.”
Notorious was the word that came to mind. She was afraid to hear any more.
He huffed a great sigh. “They have relieved me of my post.” He looked so miserable, Elena almost had a moment of sympathy for him.
“But why?” She must be obtuse. She didn’t understand why he had been fired.
“Because these lamentable events have caused a stir in the highest levels of government in Tegucigalpa, and the President of Honduras is now involved. They are sending someone from the capital to replace me. They say they don’t need me anymore. They didn’t think I was doing a good job.”
For an instant Elena considered walking over and putting her arm around him. Only for an instant, then her wits returned.
“I have tried to do the best job, but it seems it is not good enough for these stupid government cretinos. So now the federales will come to take over the investigation. Everyone is concerned about the impact for tourism.”
His eyes took on the squinty, accusing look at which he excelled.
“Doctora, I must ask you, did you kill these men? If you did and you confess to me, then maybe it will save my job.”
The slap of his point-blank question hit her like a flying tree branch in a nasty storm. What kind of game was this idiot playing? She felt her legal rights slither off into a dark corner.
“Good grief, man,” she said when she had recovered enough to speak. She clenched her fists to control her shaking limbs. “Are you insane? I don’t know what your game is but I refuse to play. I told you I had nothing to do with either death. It is your twisted logic that says I did. Now please leave, before I lose my temper.” She must have shouted the last words, because doña Carolita came hurrying into the kitchen.
“Doña Carolita, please show the inspector to the door. He’s being quite ridiculous. I have nothing further to say.”
“Wait,” he said, “I can explain. I have a wife and five children, and if I don’t have this job I have nothing. Where will I go? I have lived here my whole life, and you haven’t. If you confess then I won’t have to leave, and my children can still eat, and my wife will be happy. If it was you, please I beg you to give yourself up.”
The man lifted his hands in prayerful supplication, like a petitioner before the Pope.
“Inspector, there is nothing to confess. I am truly sorry about your job, but I cannot help you.”
“I don’t believe you.” His anger seethed to the surface. “You committed these horrible murders. I know you did, you filthy gringa whore.”
Doña Carolita grabbed him by the arm and yanked him toward the front door. “Inspector, go home and calm down. It is not appropriate for you to come here with these accusations. Go home to your wife so she can take care of you.”
The man’s head snapped around to stare at her. He gazed, confused, back and forth between the two of them. Then he slumped and stumbled away, allowing her to pull him along toward the front door without another word.
She looked back to Elena and motioned with her head to make a getaway. Elena fled to her room, closed the door, and listened until she heard her stop scolding the man and the front door close. Doña Carolita’s footsteps stopped outside her door, and she tapped.
“Are you all right?” she asked through the door.
Elena opened the door. “I don’t know what got into the man.”
She shook her head. “This is very sad business. We are doomed I am afraid. These events are making people crazy. If you ask me, the inspector is crooked. I have heard things about him but no one will stand up to him and his thugs. If you don’t need me, I am going to mass to pray for us all.”
Elena said, “Pray for me, too.”
She nodded, found her shawl, and left through the kitchen.