CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“This is just a random list of addresses and dates,” said Yoenis, studying the papers.

At the top of the sheet ran the words, SCHMOKE SURE-TO-CHOKE INSECTICIDE DISTRIBUTION SCHEDULE.

Then, beneath that, were the addresses and dates:

98 CALZADA DE MÁXIMO GÓMEZ, CIENFUEGOS: APRIL 1

10 CALLE DE LA TORRE, SANTA CLARA: APRIL 1

53 CALLE MARTÍ, CAMAJUANÍ: APRIL 2

1895 CALZADA DE OÑO, SAGUA LA GRANDE: APRIL 4

Flipping to the last pages, Yoenis said, “These here are in Havana. The first ones were all far away.”

Every address was marked off except for the last few on the very last page.

Rosa, Yoenis, Uchenna, and Professor Fauna stared at the pages. Jersey was licking pastelito crumbs off the floor. Elliot was at the sink, his back to them, washing the sticky guayaba off his hands.

“I can’t make sense of it,” said Yoenis.

Uchenna glanced nervously at Elliot. Then she whispered to Yoenis, “Did Elliot commit his first crime for nothing?”

“Technically,” whispered Professor Fauna, who was now shaking from the caffeine and sugar of the cafés con leche, “this was not his first crime. We have committed many crimes together. Breaking and entering. Truancy. Breaking and entering again. Fraud.” Uchenna could not believe what she was hearing. The professor went on. “Underage piloting of an unlicensed airplane. Illegal trafficking of an animal across international borders.” He turned to Rosa, and whispering with fierce urgency for no apparent reason, said, “May I have another cup of your delicious café con leche?” Uchenna looked positively frightened of him now.

“Better not, Mito,” Rosa said, and patted his quivering hand.

Elliot had come up behind the group and was studying the addresses and dates over Uchenna’s shoulder. “These are locations, right?” he said.

“Right,” said Yoenis.

“So, the first thing we need is a map.”

Uchenna frowned. “You are obsessed with maps.”

He smirked at her. “Sometimes obsessions are useful.”

So Rosa brought out a map of Cuba.

“You don’t happen to have a pink highlighter, do you?” Elliot asked.

“Why pink?” Uchenna asked. And then her eyes lit up “Ohhhh . . .”

“Sorry, mi’jo,” Rosa said. “I don’t have any highlighters.”

“Yes, you do,” Yoenis said. “I brought you some from Miami!”

“Why? I don’t use highlighters.”

Yoenis shrugged. “I had some extra room in my bag.” He hurried off and came back with a pink highlighter.

“Okay!” said Elliot. “Rosa, if you would read out the addresses, and Yoenis, if you’d find them on the map and mark them in pink, that would be very helpful.”

So they began. The first were farms at the distant edges of Cuba, as far from Havana as you could get. But as Rosa kept reading out addresses, the pink crept inland.

“¡Miren!” said Rosa at one point. “That is my brother’s farm!”

Yoenis colored it pink.

“What date is next to your brother’s farm?” Elliot asked.

“July twenty-first.”

“Do you know what happened on July twenty-first at your brother’s farm?”

Rosa furrowed her brow. “Not off the top of my head. . . .”

Uchenna looked knowingly at Elliot and then asked, “Is it possible that your brother bought the Schmoke’s Sure-to-Choke insecticide around then?”

Rosa’s face went pale. “Yes . . . he was telling me about this new insecticide that all the farmers were using. . . . He said it worked miracles.”

“What’s the opposite of a miracle?” Uchenna asked. “Or . . . actually, miracle, but evil?

“A disaster?” Elliot suggested.

“Yes. A disaster. That’s what the Sure-to-Choke was.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Yoenis.

Elliot answered Yoenis’s question with another question: “When did the drought start?”

“This summer, I’d say,” Rosa replied. “Or late spring. . . .” And then it was her turn to say, “Ohh . . .”

“Keep filling out the map,” said Elliot.