THE INSURGENCE
of CHAN
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CHAPTER NINETEEN |
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Behind
the butcher's counter, next to the oven, Silvestro Kaak had found a comfortable, warm place to doze. The dirty
tasting Dzulob liquor had offended both his tongue and
nostrils, but he'd swallowed every drop. So it was because of this position
that the butler, Flaco, overlooked him when he
arrived, searching for Ruben who, of course, was in the stable.
The
skinny one simply did not conceive that any of the people might be missing.
With no one to give them orders, they had simply gathered in the kitchen,
rolling cigarettes, and taking samples of what pleased their eye, be it meat,
cakes or liquor. A sentry had been posted near the door to watch for the
appearance of the devils and to give a signal if one of the gamblers rose or
called out for another drink. As he did, somebody would manifest to gather up
the empty dishes and the scraps as if the smoothly running operation under the
control of Ruben was still in effect.
The
musicians had packed up their instruments and were smoking hand-rolled
cigarettes, waiting to be paid. Flaco dismissed the
household servants who... delighted to have someone else cleaning up the
considerable mess of the party... vanished as flies before the storm. And then
the butler discovered Ruben's disappearance... but there was nothing to be
done; the stupid bumpkins knew nothing of the cook's whereabouts and don Antonio was in the library, no doubt attending to more
important matters.
So it was
later and with no little relief that he saw the patron emerging from the
library with José. The lingering gamblers were politely routed and with many thankings and congratulations to their host, they took
their gains and losses with them back to their mansions and to the new
century's dawn. Next to receive his attention was the orchestra; don Antonio added a generous tip to their fee and they, too,
retreated into the night showering blessing on the Macias house.
During
this time, the mazehualob had been directed to finish
with the cleaning, but orders had not been accompanied by organization... thus
they ran into one another, dropped their trays and emptied buckets of caustic
fluid over the floors without diluting it. At length the thin one captured the
attention of the patron.
"Ruben gone? Impossible!" spoke don Antonio from
his salon. Nonetheless he followed the butler through the swinging doors...
only to find a policeman (who, in deference to the patron's status, had
appeared in the kitchen, swinging his green lantern, rather than at the front
door). Some distance from the Paseo, the festival had
turned violent. A man... no one knew whom, he appeared to be one of those
visitors to the city from an outlying town... had become engaged in a dispute
with a person, or persons, unknown and paid with his life.
José,
having stuffed the incriminating mask into a pocket of his trousers, lingered
by the door, where the policeman would not be able to see his soiled hands and
shirt.
"He
was carved up like a pig... though we have not located the weapon nor perpetrator. A strange act... the gentleman's money
remained in his pocket. One of these whores who works
the old city claimed to have seen the murderer, but she remains incoherent.
Claims that it was don del Muerte
in the flesh... or," and the policeman corrected himself, "...the
bone."
"Any
of these ruffians may have done the deed! Put it there," called Ruben,
motioning one of the laborers with a loaded tray towards the sink.
"You!" he added, waving to Esteban, "toss this outside." He
pointed to a bucket full of dirty water. "Choose any of these lazy pendejos to take to
Don
Antonio glanced from one side of the kitchen to the other, and the policeman
nodded deferentially. Then he departed, swinging his lantern; the patron shot Flaco a look of disgust, and departed, also.
Ruben
had entered only moments before, making a great show of hitching up his belt. No
sooner had the patron and the butler left than he reached behind the table and
hauled a surprised Silvestro to his feet.
"Sleeping,
were you?" He shook the man the way a hunting dog will shake a rat.
"What if don Antonio had seen you?" He
sniffed. "Drinking the patron's liquor? That would get you hanged. As it
is, I'll give you arrobas with my own hand. You'll know pain then, muchacho." He opened the back door with his free hand
and pitched Silvestro down the steps, sending him
sprawling, gesturing to the others to leave... which they did, shirts and
bellies stuffed with stolen comestibles. "To the stables
with you all! And have fear of the dawn."
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– “THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA
CRUZ”
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