The Impaler

“If you think he went and seen that lawyer for something, you’s even more wack than the police. Cuz that’s the only reason we seeing y’all again. Cuz of that lawyer. They smoked that motherfucker the way they did Jose. That’s the only reason why y’all so worried about Jose again after almost two months of us seeing no one.”

“There’s been a development,” Markham said. “And I assure you I’m going to do my best to find your brother’s—

Markham noticed something catch Diego’s eye. He followed it and saw a little girl at the opposite stairwell. She cradled a cat in her arms.

“Go inside, Marla,” Diego said. The girl didn’t move. “You hear what I said? Or do you want me to give you another beating before Papa gets home?”

“Auntie said I could look for Paco, tu pendejo.”

Markham smiled in spite of himself. He knew from working in Tampa that pendejo meant dumb-ass.

Diego didn’t move—only looked back at Markham cynically and said: “May I go now, sir?”

“Yes. But tell your aunt that I’ll send your sister in after I talk to her, okay?”

Diego nodded and sulked into the apartment without looking back. Markham approached the little girl.

“That’s a pretty cat,” he said. “What’s his name?”

“Paco.”

“How old is he?”

“Papa says he’s about a year old, but nobody’s sure, really. He was a stray and was living here before we moved in. But he likes me best. You a policeman?”

“No, I’m with the FBI. You know what the FBI is?”

“I think so. It’s like a policeman only you work for the President.”

“That’s right,” Markham said, smiling.

“Is that black car over there yours or the President’s?”

“I wish it was mine, but the President just lets me borrow it.”

“Did Diego ask you to sit in it?”

“No. Why?”

“Cuz Diego keeps telling Hector he’s going to buy a Ford Explorer someday after he gets his license. The Ford Explorer looks kind of like your car. Diego says he’s going to get a black one like yours and give Hector a ride in it before anybody else. Hector is my cousin. He’s older than me.”

“That wasn’t very nice, you know, what you said to Diego.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but Diego let Paco out on purpose when it was raining just to be mean to me. The policemen, the ones who came after Jose died, they spoke Spanish and, well, you didn’t look like you knew how to speak Spanish.”

“I don’t. Just a few words. Your English is much better than my Spanish.”

“Papa doesn’t like us to speak Spanish too much. Only when he doesn’t understand us. He wants us to learn English so we can all go to college someday. Diego says he’s not going to college. Says he’s going to be rapper or a DJ, but even his English is better than Papa’s. You won’t tell Papa what I said to Diego, will you?”

“No. It’s a secret between us. Your name is Marla?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Sam Markham. Your first name and my last name sound a little alike, don’t you think? Marla and Markham?”

“Yes, they do.”

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“You brought back our computer?”

“Your computer?”

“Oh,” said the girl, deflating. “I guess you didn’t. I thought we were finally going to get our computer back. The policemen took it away when Jose died. Papa called about it a couple of weeks ago and they said they needed to keep it for evidence. Diego said they probably sold it and kept the money, but he doesn’t really care cuz Hector has a computer. I don’t get to use it very much cuz they’re always hogging it. Do you know if the police still have it, Mr. Markham?”

“Call me Sam. And I will check on it. Did Jose use your old computer a lot?”

“Not that much,” Marla said, scratching behind Paco’s ears. “We spent a lot of time together when he wasn’t working. He was my best friend.”

“Did you know any of his friends?” Markham held up the picture of Billy Canning. “Does this man look familiar to you?”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Billy Canning. Do you recognize him? A friend of Jose’s maybe?”

“No,” Marla said, studying the picture. “But Jose had a lot of friends. You didn’t come to the funeral, but there were a lot of people there. But I don’t know this man, no.”

“Did you ever see him with that other man, Alex Guer-rera? Jose ever mention him to you? Someone just named Alex, maybe?”

“No.”

“Did he ever chat with anyone on the computer that you know of? Ever tell you about anybody he met online? Someone named William or Billy?”

“Jose and Diego were always fighting over the computer, but Diego used it more. I don’t think Jose went into chat rooms and stuff. He worked a lot, and Diego was always downloading music. Jose had a MySpace page like a lot of the older kids do, but Papa made Diego take it down after Jose died and the police printed it out.”

“Yes, I saw that.”

“Some men came by last week. Men dressed like you. They asked Papa and Diego a bunch of questions, and I overheard Papa telling Mama that some lawyer got killed and they think it might be related to Jose. I didn’t hear anything else, but I’m sure they were talking about the pan-dilleros. Diego says he doesn’t think it was the pandilleros who killed Jose. He said that from the beginning. But Diego is stupid because even Jose said he thought it was—”

Marla stopped.

“What, Marla? Did Jose say something to you before he died?”

The girl looked uncomfortably at her feet—bit her lip and held Paco tighter to her bosom. The cat squirmed, stuck out its paw and looked up at Markham helplessly.

“What is it, Marla?” he asked. “Do you want to tell me something but you’re afraid? Afraid of the pandilleros?”

“No,” said Marla. “It’s just that, well, I promised Jose I wouldn’t tell.”

“Yes, I understand. But Jose is gone now and wouldn’t mind if you—”

“No, I promised him after he died.”

Markham looked at her curiously.

“In my dreams,” she whispered, looking past him toward her apartment door. “I haven’t told anyone except Father Banigas last week at confession, but Jose, after he died … well … sometimes he speaks to me in my dreams.”

“I see,” said Markham, smiling. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I once lost someone I loved very much, too. And sometimes she speaks to me in my dreams just like Jose speaks to you.”

“Who is she?”

“My wife. She died about eleven years ago. Her name was Michelle—began with an M just like your name.”

“Were you sad when she died?”

“Very much so. I still am sometimes.”

“Me, too. But not as much now that I know Jose is in Heaven. Is your wife in Heaven?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Maybe she and Jose can become friends up there. Maybe she and Jose can do stuff together and talk about