Carlos banged his fist against the apartment door, and when there was no answer, he banged his fist again.
Ramon said, “Maybe he’s not home.”
They stood alone on the third floor of the apartment building, the hallway narrow and musty.
Carlos tried the doorknob. It didn’t turn. He looked at Ramon.
“Did you stretch this morning?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m too old to kick down this door.”
Ramon looked at the door.
“Maybe we should just try to find the manager or somebody else who might have a key.”
Carlos said, “In a few hours agents from Mexico City will be coming here to take over our investigation. Do you want to look like an asshole who didn’t do any work tracking down a lead?”
Ramon said nothing.
“I’m close to retiring, so it doesn’t matter much to me, though I would love to help bring down the Devil. You … you’re just starting out. Think about how capturing the Devil would look.”
Carlos pointed at the door.
“Now, are you going to do this or not?”
The door itself was thin and cheap. It took only two kicks before it broke away from the lock.
Carlos pushed the door open, his gun now in hand, and entered the apartment.
“Miguel, if you’re in here, you have three seconds to come out with your hands up.”
Silence.
Carlos said, “Three.”
More silence.
“Two.”
Nothing.
“One.”
Ramon stepped up next to Carlos, his gun at his side.
“I guess he’s not here.”
“I guess so.”
But Carlos and Ramon kept their guns out as they moved about the apartment. The place was as cramped and shitty as the outside of the building looked. The bedroom just a mattress on the floor and some boxes of clothes scattered about. Same with the rest of the place. A ratty couch and TV. The sink in the kitchenette full of dirty dishes.
Ramon said, “You think he took off?”
Carlos said, “I can’t tell if the place has been ransacked or if this is how it always looks.”
Out in the hallway an angry voice shouted.
“What the hell is going on here?”
A fat bald man stood in the doorway. He stared at the broken door as if in shock, then glared at Carlos and Ramon.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Carlos kept the gun held at his side.
“We’re looking for Miguel. Are you Miguel?”
The fat man snorted.
“Do I look like Miguel?”
Carlos said, “It’s impossible for me to say because I don’t know what Miguel looks like.”
The fat man seemed to notice their guns for the first time. His large brow creased as he frowned.
“Are you police?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We can’t tell you that. Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m the landlord. I live on the first floor. I got a call there was a disturbance up here so I came to check it out before calling the police. Who’s going to pay for that door?”
“Do you know where Miguel is?”
“No. What did he do?”
“How long has he been living here?”
“I don’t know. A couple years.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“I can’t remember. I don’t socialize with my tenants. But he always paid his rent on time, so I never had any problems with him.”
“Does he have any friends in the building?”
The fat man shrugged his heavy shoulders.
“Again, I don’t know. What’s this about? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“We’re worried about his safety. It’s important we track him down as soon as possible.”
This was a lie, but they weren’t about to tell the landlord the truth.
The fat man shrugged again, now looking about the place.
“That’s all I can tell you. He always paid his rent on time. That’s the only thing that matters to me. Never had any complaints about him.”
Ramon said, “Do you know where he works?”
“Some motel. I couldn’t tell you which one.”
“Any other job?”
“Not one that comes to mind. Seriously, what is this about?”
Carlos and Ramon traded glances. It didn’t look like they would get much more out of the landlord.
Carlos said, “Thank you for your time.”
He and Ramon started past the fat man into the hallway, ignoring the landlord as he sputtered after them.
“Wait. What about the door? Who the hell is going to pay for that door?”