s secretaries, Olga María was always so discreet, so modest, so reserved, never had those fits of hysteria, she defended her home and was totally devoted to her husband and children, that’s why her death makes me so angry, my dear, what’s the point, so many bastards they don’t bother killing and a woman like that — a paragon, so hard-working, look how she started that boutique from scratch, all with her own hard work. Those two coming in now, they’re the two policemen who came to Doña Olga’s to harass us, the one with the dark jacket is the one who says his name is Deputy Chief Handaclass="underline" riffraff, my dear, they’ve got no respect for other people’s pain, what’s wrong with these people, how dare they come to a decent person’s wake, their heads must be full of rot — imagine: they wanted me to reveal all of Olga María’s secrets, as if any of her friends or acquaintances would have planned her murder — they even suspect Marito. I think it was simply a mistake, or most likely a thief who got nervous and didn’t know what to do, so he shot her, it wouldn't be the first time that’s happened, a fiend like that, the only thing he knows how to do is kill people. Nobody I know would have been capable of even imagining doing Olga María any harm, it wouldn't have crossed anybody’s mind to even think badly of her, such a good woman, so generous, she never stuck her nose into other people’s business. Look, here come Doña Olga and the girls, let’s go, come with me, they look so lovely, they’re going to sit next to their daddy, they are the apples of Doña Olga’s eyes, her only two granddaughters, because Sergio and Cuca — I’m pretty sure — they can’t have children, and Diana is still too young and who knows what kind of life she leads in Miami, you know how they are, women there don’t necessarily have kids right away anymore, and Diana’s practically a gringa, she’s been there almost twelve years. I hope that brute Handal doesn’t think he’s going to interrogate the girls here, then I really would get mad, they’ve got no right; anyway what are they doing here instead of out looking for the murderer, they have the description little Olga gave them, what more do they want? What infuriates me most is that in the end, I bet you, they won’t catch anybody — they’re so incompetent it’d be a miracle if they did. When have you ever heard of the police catching anybody who is truly guilty of anything? Never. I didn’t even notice when dear Julita arrived, probably right after Doña Olga and the girls, but with all these people I must’ve missed her. Dear Julita is so good, so trustworthy, she loved Olga María more than anything, like her own daughter, she took care of her for twenty years, can you imagine, that’s a lifetime. She came to their house when Olga María was ten years old, from a little Indian village, Tacuba, way out there in Ahuachapán. You can’t find servants like that anymore, I’m telling you, my dear, everything has changed so much, now they’re all prostitutes and thieves, or both — you can’t leave the house alone for a minute because they’ll ransack it. Horrible, my dear, you can’t trust anybody anymore, even if they do have references and recommendations, they’re always up to some mischief. That was a different world: servants used to be part of the family, like our dear Julita, who is now going to have to finish raising little Olga and Raquelita; Marito will need her now more than ever, and Doña Olga will, too. That’s what I told Julita this afternoon. The poor thing must be very distraught, but you know how Indians are, you can’t tell what they’re feeling, with that face they’ve got, like a mask. Hey, I told you, and I was right: look who just arrived, my dear, Gastón Berrenechea himself, the one and only Yuca, look how handsome he is, and just as charming as ever, always so elegant, look how impeccably dressed he is, in that suit with that tie, beautiful, I’ve never seen that design in black; I swear, at the American School we all thought Yuca and Olga María were going to get married, they would have made the perfect couple, both so good-looking, as if they were made for each other, but they only went out for a few months, such a pity, we couldn’t understand why it didn’t last, but even then Yuca was too much of a womanizer — unmanageable. I met both of them even before that, can you believe it, my dear, about twenty years ago, even more, twenty-three years ago, when we started first grade, it’s been forever and a day. Now Yuca is a VIP, you know, he owns a chain of superstores, and he’s a deputy in the government and a high-ranking party official, it’s so weird, I never thought Yuca would end up in politics, they’re even pushing him as a candidate for president, my dear, but he’s still pretty young, he’s still got to earn his stripes. You know he married Kati, Don Federico Schultz’s daughter, filthy rich, they’re drowning in money, and she’s the apple of Don Federico’s eye; it’s largely due to Don Federico that Yuca has done so well. He’s supported him in everything, not only business — starting up that superstore chain — but also politics, he’s treated him like a son, without Don Federico’s support who knows how poor Yuca would have ended up, my dear, his family lost almost everything during the agrarian reform, what a disgrace, the Berrenecheas were the richest cotton growers in the country, but those communists with their agrarian reform pretty much left them penniless, practically in the streets. That’s what I mean when I say Yuca owes so much to Don Federico, there are even people who say terrible things about how Yuca married Kati for the money, people are so spiteful, my dear, and now that he’s a politician they just want to sling mud at him. Yuca is a very hard worker, you’ve got to give it to him, and if he got involved in politics it was because they took all his family’s fincas, I remember it well, my dear, right at the beginning of the war, Yuca was up there with Major Le Chevalier, taking a stand against the communists. He hasn’t had anything handed to him on a silver platter, on the contrary, that man has worked like a dog to get where he is, that’s why Don Federico lent him a hand. Quite a man, Yuca: nice, good-looking, intelligent. He’ll be president in about five years, definitely, no doubt about it, his rise is meteoric, he’s getting more and more popular all the time. He’s got loads of charisma, my dear, people will vote for him, people like to have a leader who’s successful, in business, I mean, someone who knows how to speak in public, and it’s even better if he’s handsome, even very handsome like Yuca. He’s so different from that idiot we have for president now, that stupid fat old man, his own mother doesn’t even like him, I voted for him just so the communists wouldn’t win. Imagine what a terrible situation, my dear: we had to choose between that moron and the communists. With Yuca it would be different; he’s so distinguished. You just saw him: nice, don’t you think? He’d have as much pull as Major Le Chevalier, people simply adore him. The communists are already afraid of him, that’s why they’ve started a campaign to try to discredit him, saying he was a member of the death squads, he put bombs in some ministry or other during the agrarian reform — the same old accusations — he’s taken advantage of his contacts with people in the government to make millions off those superstores — the same nonsense they pull out of their hats whenever they want to ruin an honorable person. I really like Yuca, my dear, I always did, ever since we were small, at the American School, and Olga María did, too, even though all they ever did was say hi when they ran into each other at the club, their teenage romance already long forgotten, but even though they’d both gotten married, made separate lives for themselves, and taken different paths, Yuca always carried a torch for Olga María, I’m absolutely sure of it, and Olga María always carried a torch for him, that’s why I wasn’t at all surprised three months ago when she told me she saw him again, apparently they ran into each other in the parking lot of the Villas Españolas Mall; as usual she was rushing to the boutique, and he was surrounded by his bodyguards on his way to pick up a suit at Chaín the Turk’s shop. I could see it in her eyes as she was talking about him, she had that same gleam I already told you about. I didn’t want to ask her too much about it, my dear, because Yuca is so important, but I understood that the two of them had some unfinished business from fifteen years ago, having been boyfriend-girlfriend as teenagers, just kissing and touching, but no sex, something that now, who knows why, they decided to finish. The problem was, how to meet: Yuca’s always surrounded by bodyguards — a big show of security, what with so many kidnappings, my dear, it’s a good thing, and anyway both of them being married and all. It wasn’t easy. For days on end all they could do was talk on the phone, just waiting for their chance. Olga María was excited, she was acting like a teenager, she wanted him so badly, she wanted to be with Yuca, but at the same time she was afraid of getting into trouble, not only with Marito and Kati, but because of Yuca’s political activities, he has a lot of enemies, even in his own party and the government, and you know how dirty politics can be, my dear, which is why Olga María was afraid her relationship with him would be used against him by his enemies or to blackmail her, these days nobody feels safe. So, surprise surprise, my dear, what do you know? It was Auntie Laura, once again to the rescue, so once and for all Olga María could get together with Yuca, so they could abandon themselves to their passions, do whatever they had to do. One afternoon I picked her up at Villas Españolas and drove her to a secret hideaway in Miramonte, where Yuca was waiting for her. She was super-excited, and she looked gorgeous. I came back to pick her up two hours later. She was totally disappointed — she barely answered my questions, in monosyllables. I figured Yuca must not have been at the top of his game. I kept at her to tell me the details, like she always had before, after all, what was I was her friend for, if you know what I mean. But Olga María said she’d rather not talk about it. There was a second time, another afternoon, I took her to the same house under the same circumstances. This time she wasn’t quite so excited, even though she was all gussied up and happy, but like someone who’s determined not to get her hopes up. When she came out she was even more disappointed than the time before, and again she kept quiet, she’d tell me later when we had more time, she promised. In the end she did, even though she still didn’t want to tell me many details: she kept repeating that she and Yuca were incompatible, something wasn’t working right, she’d completely lost interest. I asked her what Yuca thought about it. She told me he wanted them to keep seeing each other, he didn’t want to give her up, he said he was madly in love with her, they should keep trying, the same story as with the other two. But you can see how Olga María was, my dear, in her sweet gentle way she had quite a strong personality — when she said no, she meant no. Poor Yuca was being stood up: there he was, all dressed up and nowhere to go, that’s why I told you he couldn’t not show up at the wake, because he’s been in love with Olga María ever since grammar school, and he must be suffering from her death more than almost anybody. But now the place is really full, my dear, let’s go say hello to people, we don’t want anybody to think badly of us, as if we came to Olga María’s wake just to gossip. Follow me, I’ll introduce you first of all to José Carlos.