Mexico City Noir

As it was, our small business was moving along on greased rails and we began to see things differently. I found myself laughing over pretty much anything, San Beni began playing with his grandson, who at this particular moment he just wanted to throw off the balcony. Floren hooked up with the sexiest woman in his neighborhood; this actually provoked so much envy in Buenos Aires that he had to borrow a friend’s Volkswagen to avoid people seeing him when he went to visit her. San was finally able to buy a gym membership to stay in shape, and Chente’s wife took him back. What more could we ask for?

But, you know, there’s always a fly in the ointment or a bug in the rice, and Beni got pissed at some roughneck from his neighborhood who started spreading the rumor that he was a faggot-thus the focus on his biceps and triceps. I never imagined that Beni, so thick-lipped and big, could be that vindictive. With us, he’d always been a child of God: he never raised his voice, never uttered an obscenity. He’d say, “Boys, why do you have to talk like truck drivers and spit like those trashy street hustlers?” He was very decent, very courteous, he even washed his hands when he went to the bathroom. He couldn’t drink, that’s for sure, but he was good with his hands; he was like a fine embroiderer the way he could put together or take apart anything he had in his fat fingers. But whenever he got drunk, he started talking about his childhood, back when he was a good boy. You can’t imagine the kinds of horrible things that haunted him as a former daddy’s boy. The thing is, he decided to get rid of the rumormonger via the guy’s woman, with the objective of also putting a total stop to the gossip.

One wretched night he summoned us as witnesses to an abandoned auto shop in one of those neighborhoods I was talking about before. It was almost dawn. He’d managed to get the girl to come with him-she was tiny but had a pretty face; he’d found her in a bar. “I have a life-or-death message for your man,” he’d told her, and really, after that, who wouldn’t go with? Then, in that auto shop, everything got so intense and we each took turns. But later…

I don’t really want to remember what happened later; everyone did whatever. In the end, San Beni turned out to be more of a bastard than a pretty boy and we had no choice but to get rid of the mess. And there we were, stressed out but half asleep, trying to figure out how to end the story.

If it hadn’t been for my cousin The Clone-that moron made a deal with his gossipy sister-in-law, the one who sells tamales outside the Coyoacan station-I wouldn’t be here, in the RENO prison treatment center (which is nothing like the low-security CERESO), all freaked out about falling asleep next to my friends and their stench. It’s a smell, I swear on my mother, that never fails to provoke a recurrent nightmare in which my buddies are forcing me to eat painted fingertips inside Chiapas-style tamales.

ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS

EUGENIO AGUIRRE (born in Mexico City, 1944) won a Great Silver Medal from the International Academy of Lutece, France, for his historical novel Gonzalo Guerrero, and a Jose Fuentes Mares literary award for Pasos de sangre. He has published more than forty-five books, including volumes of short stories and Mexican best sellers such as La cruz Maya, Isabel Moctezuma, and Hidalgo.

OSCAR DE LA BORBOLLA (born in Mexico City, 1952) is a very popular writer of more than a dozen short story collections. He has a doctorate in philosophy and teaches university metaphysics.

ROLO DIEZ (born in Junin, 1940) is a two-time winner of the Hammett Prize, and winner of both the National Prize in Literature and the Gran Angular Award for young adult novels. His published works include Los companeros, Vladimir Illich contra los uniformados, Gambito de dama, and La carabina de Zapata.

BERNARDO FERNaNDEZ (born in Mexico City, 1972) won the Memorial Silverio Canada prize in Spain for best first detetctive novel for Tiempo de alacranes. He is also a comic book artist and the author of several sci-fi works, including Gel azul, which won the Spanish Ignotus award for best science fiction novella in 2007.

ViCTOR LUIS GONZaLEZ (born in Mexico City, 1953), novelist and journalist, won the 1988 Juan Rulfo International Prize for best first novel with El mejor lugar del infierno.

F.G. HAGHENBECK (born in Mexico City, 1965), won the 2006 Vuelta de Tuerca prize for the best first detective novel with Trago amargo. He also writes for popular American comics, such as Crimson.

MYRIAM LAURINI (born in Santa Fe, 1947), one of the very first female noir writers in Mexico, is the author of Morena en rojo, Que raro que me llame Guadalupe, and Para subir al cielo.

JUAN HERNaNDEZ LUNA (born in Mexico City, 1962), a two-time winner of the Hammett Prize for best Spanish-language detective novel, has published more than a dozen crime-fiction novels, including Quiza otros labios, Cadaver de Ciudad, and Tabaco para el puma.

EDUARDO MONTEVERDE (born in Mexico City, 1948) won the Rodolfo Walsh Prize for the best nonfiction Spanish-language book for Lo peor del horror. He is also the author of two experimental noir novels, Las neblinas de Almagro and El naufragio del Cancerbero.

ACHY OBEJAS is the translator (into Spanish) for Junot Diaz’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. She is also the author of several books, including the highly acclaimed novels Ruins and Days of Awe; and editor of Havana Noir. Obejas is currently the Sor Juana Writer in Residence at DePaul University in Chicago. She was born in Havana.

EDUARDO ANTONIO PARRA (born in Leon, 1965) won the 2000 Juan Rulfo International Prize. Los limites de la noche and Tierra de nadie are among his many published works.

JULIA RODRiGUEZ (born in Mexico City, 1946) wrote one of the very first Mexican noir detective novels, ?Quien desaparecio al comandante Hall?