‘I’ll be on the floor in the back seat when you drive through Melipilla,’ I told her. ‘About fifteen kilometres past the town there’s a side road to the right and a sign that says “Hacienda Quilpué.” You turn off there. Five or six kilometres farther along there’s a little graveyard at the side of the road. The road goes over a hill there. If anybody is in sight when you get there, keep on going. If not, slow down enough for me to jump before you get to the top of the hill. The hacienda is in the valley on the far side of the hill, and I want to get off before the car can be seen from there. Follow me so far?’
‘Yes.’
‘After you get over the top of the hill, pull the fuse out of the clips I showed you and let the car coast at least a hundred yards. Put this dead fuse in the clips as soon as you can and put the good one in your purse where you can find it in a hurry. Then look helpless. If nobody shows up, stay put until I get there. If anybody, particular a slick-looking latino with sideburns, comes around, your job is to keep him occupied until you hear from me. I don’t care how you do it, but if it’s Sideburns, as I expect, I think he fancies himself as a ladies’ man. Your best bet is to get out of the car and let him look at you—without the coat. I don’t think he’ll want to leave after that.’
‘Would you like me to do a strip-tease for him? I want to be sure I’m earning my salary.’
Idaho’s voice wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm. I said, ‘I’m sorry if it sounds bald. I’m explaining the set-up so you’ll know what you’re doing. Tell anybody who asks that the motor simply went dead, and that you have to get back to Santiago before noon. You came this way because you thought it was a short-cut. Sideburns may know enough to find the burnt-out fuse. If he does, he probably won’t be able to dig up a replacement, but he can short the connexions so the motor will start. If he gets that far, tell him you smelled something burning just before the motor went dead, and make him check all the wiring. I’ll probably need half an hour. It’s up to you to hold him and the car there until I’m finished, any way you like. If he does manage to get it started, don’t go any farther than the hacienda, wait for me there, and keep him with you. Get it?’
She nodded, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. Her face looked stiff.
‘There’s one more thing. I don’t expect anything to go wrong, but it could. If trouble starts, put the good fuse in place and get away as fast as you can. The road will bring you out on a highway that goes into Santiago. Nobody knows I’m with you, so if they question you later you stick to the story that you were just out for a drive. You don’t know why the motor conked out or why it started again when you tried, but you did. The shooting scared you off.’
I put my foot in it good with that. Idaho’s head turned quickly.
‘Shooting?’
‘Keep your eye on the road. I meant commotion. There’ll probably be an argument, if they catch me.’
‘You mean you’ll probably be shot, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know. It’s a chance I’ve got to take. I don’t expect to be caught.’
We were getting near Melipilla then, so I crawled over into the back seat with the burglar kit and kept my head down while the car bumped over cobblestones. Beyond the town, I poked my head up again and watched for the turn-off.
‘Here it is,’ I said. ‘I’m going back into the hole now. Give me the word when you’re ready to stop.’
Idaho made the turn. I could hear the sound of the tyres change as we hit the soft dirt of the side-road. After a minute she said, ‘Al.’
It was the first time she had ever called me that. I said, ‘What?’
‘I’m scared. I’m shaking all over. Don’t go through with it.’
‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’
I didn’t tell her that my own feet were as cold as a couple of iced mackerel. I knew damn well what Sideburns would do with that big roscoe of his if he caught me robbing graves. The law would be on his side, too. I concentrated hard on the idea that I had a foolproof scheme.
Idaho said, ‘Please.’
‘Are you backing out?’
‘No. I’m afraid for you.’
I wanted her to stop talking about it before my feet got any colder. I said, ‘You do your end of it and I’ll be all right. Can you see the graveyard yet?’
‘No. Yes, I see it. On the left?’
‘That’s it. Anybody in sight?’
‘No.’
‘Be sure. Look all around.’
‘Nobody.’
‘Good. Say when.’
Forty-five heartbeats later—I could feel them pounding in my ears—she said, ‘Now!’ The car slowed. I grabbed my burglar kit, opened the door, and jumped.
The dust cloud covered me until I got inside the graveyard. A guard stationed behind a tombstone would have ruined me, but they hadn’t got that cautious yet. I took the jemmy out of my bag and sprang the grilled gate of Parker’s cave open on the first try, not even breaking the lock. My nerves didn’t bother me at all, once I was busy.
Inside the cave, I closed the grille behind me and moved the fan of paper flowers out of the way. There were a couple of chisels and a maul in my bag, but I didn’t need them. The mortar around the stone in the back wall of the cave was mostly sand. It came away under the sharp end of the jemmy. I had the stone out in about two minutes.
The rollers under Parker’s coffin were still there. I slid the box out carefully and let one end down to the floor. The niche was just high enough so that I could leave the other end propped up on the ledge. The coffin wasn’t heavy, but it was plenty heavy enough for me not to want to have to muscle it back into place in a hurry if I could help it. I jammed the headstone under the floor end to hold it on the slant.
Outside, bees droned back and forth among the bushes. I stopped to listen. Something that might have been the faint pound of hoofbeats or the loud pound of my heart thumped in my ears. I waited for a while, but the sound didn’t get any louder. I thought, hold that line, Idaho.
There were eight screws in the coffin lid. I had bought one of those automatic screwdrivers that work on a ratchet arrangement, and I ran the screws out as fast as I could pump my arm up and down. When the lid hung from one screw, I took out my handkerchief, soaked it in a bottle of camphor I had in my pocket, and tied it around my face. The stuff choked me, but it might be better than what I had to look at next.
It wasn’t as bad as I had expected. The buzzards had picked the bones cleaner than had been shown by the alcalde’s photograph. What was left besides bones had turned into leather. There was enough to hold the skeleton together inside its clothes, and that was about all. It had sagged down in the coffin when I tipped it, without falling apart.
I said, ‘Excuse me, whatever your name is,’ and reached for the dental mirror and flashlight that were in my bag. The skeleton’s lower jaw fell open as I touched it.
His teeth were still there, just as they had been when he was buried. The examination took me such a short time that I wasted another few minutes trying to find some evidence that he had been murdered. One rib on the left side was shattered, but I didn’t know enough about bones to decide whether it had been caused by a bullet, a knife, or a fall off a horse. It would be hard to prove anything from what remained of him, except that the guys who had positively identified him from what the buzzards had left behind were damn fools. I put him back into shape and screwed the coffin lid down.
There was a can of putty in the suitcase, but I didn’t bother doing a neat repair job. I didn’t want to crowd my luck too far. I heaved the coffin back into the niche, wedged the headstone in place by jamming the camphor-soaked handkerchief into the top crack with my screwdriver, and scraped up most of the loose mortar from the floor with my hands. The mortar I dumped into the suitcase on top of the burglar kit. With the paper flowers back in the middle of the floor, the cave looked pretty neat.
I said, ‘You can descansar en paz now, friend. Good luck to you.’ Then I picked up my suitcase and peeked through the grille. Nobody was in sight but the bees, still zooming around the bushes.
Going over the crest of the hill, I tried to whistle. But the reaction had set in, and the muscles around my mouth twitched so bad I couldn’t keep my face in shape. I twitched all over. My hands were wet, my mouth was dry, my nose burned from the camphor fumes, my stomach muscles hurt, I wanted a drink, I wanted to throw my head back and howl like a wolf just to get it out of my system. Instead, I scuffled along in the middle of the dirt road carrying my suitcase and trying to whistle ‘My Sweet Little Alice-Blue Gown,’ not getting a note out. I couldn’t even wet my lips.
The car was about a hundred and fifty yards down the hill slope. Sideburns’ big bay stallion was munching grass by the side of the road. A barefooted roto had the hood of the car up, his nose in the engine. Another pair of bare feet stuck out from under the back of the car where another roto was peering at the muffler. Sideburns leaned against the car, one arm lying along the top of the car behind Idaho’s head, talking into her ear.
He didn’t see me coming until I was practically in his hip pocket. In his position, I wouldn’t have seen a herd of elephants coming down the road. Idaho was standing with her back to the car, one heel hooked up on the running-board so that her knee showed, her hands behind her and her breasts stuck out like a movie star posing for a pin-up. I don’t know what he was saying to her, but from his expression it was pretty personal.
Sideburns finally woke up to the fact that he had company. When he recognized me, he jerked his arm down from behind Idaho’s head and put it closer to his gun. He scowled.
I put the suitcase down in the dirt, wiped my face, and jerked a thumb questionably in the direction the car was pointed, hitching a ride from a stranger.
‘The slob doesn’t understand English,’ I said to Idaho. ‘How are you doing?’
‘He’s awful.’ She turned a bright smile at Sideburns. ‘I can’t listen to much more. He’s awful!’
‘Would you say that you had been insulted?’
‘If I haven’t been, it hasn’t been because he didn’t try.’
‘That’s fine.’
Sideburns gave me an ugly look.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Walking, friend. I enjoy the countryside. The lady has offered me a ride. She says that you have insulted her.’
He sneered at me, as if he enjoyed sneering.
‘Véte,’ he said. ‘Continue walking.’
His hand stopped at his hip.
I brought my own hands up chest high, making no sudden movements, and curled my fingers. He watched them, like a dope, so he didn’t see me moving my feet at the same time. At the last minute he woke up, but he was really a dope. He tried to pull his gun.
I hit him on the nose first, because I had promised to hit him on the nose, and then I cracked him good on the chin. Before he could fall down, I smacked him again. He wasn’t completely out when he hit the dirt, but he wasn’t good for anything. He didn’t argue when I took his gun and waved it at the roto whose eyes were bugging at me under the lifted hood.
‘Put the hood down, boy,’ I said. ‘Tell your friend to get out from under the car.’
He did what he was told. I watched Sideburns put his hand to his nose, take it away, and blink at the blood. He still didn’t know what had happened.
I said to Idaho, ‘Where’s the fuse?’
‘In my purse. In the front seat.’
I found the fuse in her purse and switched it for the dead one. By that time Sideburns was sitting up, holding his face with both hands. He wasn’t interested in anything else. I threw my bag into the back seat, helped Idaho into the driver’s seat, and climbed in beside her.
‘That’s all. Let’s go.’
Passing the hacienda, I tossed the gun out the window. We had gone another four or five kilometres before Idaho said anything.
‘How—what did you find?’
‘A skeleton.’
‘Whose?’
‘Damned if I know. It wasn’t Parker.’