Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 44, No. 7 & 8, July/August 1999

“There,” said the woman, pointing.

Efraín looked along the trail — now wide enough to be called a road — in the direction of town. In the distance he saw a long white shape on the ground. A man sat on the ground beside it. As there were no trees nearby, he held a palm frond over his head for shade.

“Since Lencho was the first relative to get here, he thought he should wait with Mr. Ramos until the rest of the family arrives,” explained a man at the bar.

Efraín knew the body wouldn’t be moved till the proper officials came out from town and viewed it. They would take notes on the situation and collect names of witnesses to Mr. Ramos’ last moments and to the discovery of the body. If there was an obvious suspect — and it looked as if there was — that person would have to go back to town with them.

Efraín nudged the bay in Lencho’s direction. He was rather relieved that Soto stayed put.

“Such a shame,” Lencho told Efraín. He clucked sympathetically at Mr. Ramos, who lay discreetly underneath a sheet. “I saw him ride by yesterday after he left Soto’s. I thought he’d go straight home with the money. I never dreamed...”

“What happened exactly?” Efraín asked, getting off his horse.

“They say Fernando reached the cantina about dark. He said he’d have just one little glass of guaro to celebrate the sale. Well, you know how that goes.”

Efraín had heard that Mr. Ramos enjoyed an occasional evening out.

“Besides, Belicia was tending bar last night,” Lencho added.

Efraín recalled a few old stories.

“Fernando and Belicia were a couple, years ago,” the storekeeper continued. “Then Fernando’s next-door-neighbor died. It just seemed natural for Fernando to marry the man’s daughter and combine the two ranches. I don’t think Belicia was mad about it. She always sees the practical side of things. She asked her uncle to let her come out here and manage his cantina. I think she’s happier as a manager than she would have been as a housewife.”

Efraín squatted on his heels. A sturdy stick lay by the road. It was as big around as a staff but shorter. Efraín looked it over. Some dirt stuck to one end but no blood. He poked idly at a band of dry leaves that stretched across the road. “So Belicia and Mr. Ramos still enjoyed each other’s company now and then?”

“Yes, I think so. And look where it got him.”

They pondered the unfortunate Mr. Ramos.

Efraín crossed the road to sit down on a boulder. It was hot from the sun. He propped his feet on a smaller rock, getting as comfortable as he could. After a while he said, “I noticed that salesman sitting with the policeman in the cantina.”

“Yes... poor fellow. He must have gotten tired of puffing around the hills, trying to make a living off spoons and thread. I suppose he gave in to temptation when he heard Fernando bragging about all the money he’d made on the bull.”

“What makes people think the salesman killed Mr. Ramos?”

“He had the money in his valise.” The storekeeper shook his head.

“The salesman was at the cantina last evening?”

“Yes. It got late, and most of the other customers left, Fernando last of all. The salesman lay down to sleep on the bench.”

“Adolfo slept there, too?”

“Yes, but he’s too deep a sleeper to know if the salesman went out and came back in the night. Belicia sleeps in the loft. She says she didn’t hear anything. Of course, she always says that, no matter what you ask her.” Lencho sniffed.

“Adolfo said a boy found the body.”

Lencho snorted. “Old Adolfo may call him a boy. He’s bigger than I am. The son of that fellow who lives in the green house between here and town. Wilfredo, that’s his name. He woke everybody in the cantina, yelling, ‘He’s dead, he’s dead.’ They all ran to see. Belicia told Wilfredo to catch Fernando’s horse — that chestnut tied by the cantina — and ride to town for the police, but the horse was too skittish. Can’t blame it, the creature had just seen its owner murdered. So Belicia told him to get her old black mare out of the pasture, and that was how he went to town. More people showed up, neighbors attracted by the commotion. They finally did manage to catch Fernando’s horse.”

Efraín wanted to know how the scene had looked before dozens of neighbors trampled it. “Did Wilfredo come back with the policeman?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. The old black mare would be too tired to come straight back without a rest first. And the policeman was probably afraid to put more than one person on that motorcycle.”

“How did they know the money was in the salesman’s valise?” Efraín asked.

“When the sun got hot, everybody went back to the cantina to wait for the police. Belicia brought out her mending to pass the time. She asked the salesman if he had a thimble. He opened his case to get one. Everyone crowded around to see his merchandise. In a corner of the case was a stack of money, all small bills. No one would touch it. When the policeman came, he counted the money. It’s almost as much as Soto gave Fernando for the bull — Fernando spent some on guaro last night.”