new, smaller Ferraris, which was piling madness on madness.
He muttered, ' Es dificil,' got in and started the engine. ('Now look, Mr. Mendoza,' the mechanic had said patiently, 'the number o' cylinders isn't anythin' to do with how good the car is! If you knew anythin' about engines atall-! I know it sounds to you like you're gettin' more for your money-facta the matter is, about all it means is it costs more to run, see? Sure, this is the hell of a great car, but you'd be just as well off, get just as much power and speed, with say something like that Mercedes six-I mean if you got to have a foreigner-or one of them slick hardtop Jaguars.
Liggitt Street, a block the other side of Main and one down, was a bare cut above Commerce. Not so many signs in windows, and the houses, most as old and poor, better cared for. The Ramirez house was one of the two- storey ones; as he came up the walk, he saw that the curtains at the narrow front windows were clean and starched, a few flowers planted against the low porch.
He did not mind breaking bad news to strangers, and often it was of help to notice reactions: little things might tell if this was as impersonal fate as it looked, or had reasons closer to home. But he fully expected that a good deal of time would be wasted, from his point of view, while they assimilated the news, before he could decently ask questions.
He was not wrong there. The family consisted of Papa, Mama, assorted children between three and sixteen, an older daughter perhaps twenty-one, and a stocky middle-aged man who bore enough resemblance to Papa that his designation as Tio Tomas was superfluous.
Mendoza waited through Mama's hysterics, the dispatching of a message to the parish priest, the settling of Mama on the sofa with a blanket, cologne-soaked handkerchief, glass of wine, and her remaining brood nested about her comfortingly. He found a cracked pink saucer in obvious use as an ash tray and smoked placidly in the midst of the uproar, eyes and ears busy.
Not native Mexican-Americans, these, not a couple of generations across the border. The kids, they had the marks of smart American kids, and their English was unhesitating, sparked with slang; but Mama, fat and decent in ankle4ength black cotton, and Papa, collarless neck scrawny above an old flannel bathrobe, were Old Country. It was no different, Mexican, German, Lithuanian, whatever-always there was bound to be a little friction, the kids naturally talking on freer modern ways, the old ones disapproving, worried, and arguments about it. So?
The man called Tio Tomas sat in a straight chair behind the sofa and said nothing, smoking tiny black Mexican cigarillos.
'You know I must ask you questions,' said Mendoza at last, putting a hand on Manuel Ramirez' arm. 'I'm sorry to intrude on your grief, but to help us in hunting whoever has killed your daughter.'
'Si, yes, it is understood,,, whispered Ramirez. 'I-I tell you whatever you want to know. Maria Santisima, my brain is not working for this terrible thing, but-excuse, mister, I don't speak so good in English.'
'Then we speak Spanish.'
'Ah, you have the tongue, that's good. I thank you-pardon, mister, the name I did not.'
'Lieutenant Mendoza.'
'Mendoza.' He gave it the hard Mexican pronunciation that was ultimately Aztec, instead of the more elegant Spanish sibilance. 'You are-an agent of police?'
'I am. I'll ask you first.'
'The gentleman's good to wait and be polite.' It was the oldest girl, coming up quietly, looking at him with open curiosity; she was pale, but had not been weeping. She was not as pretty as her sister had been, but not bad- looking, in a buxom way. 'Of course we know you got to ask questions, but look, Papa, no sense disturbing Mama with it-I guess you and me can tell him whatever he wants. Let's go in the kitchen, if that's all right, mister?'
'It is Lieutenant, Teresa,' said Ranrez distractedly; he let her urge him through a shabby dining room. Mendoza strolled after: she threw him a glance over her shoulder of mixed interest, anxiety, and a kind of mechanical female brandishment. The kitchen was big, cold, reasonably clean. 'Please to sit down, sir-if you would accept my hospitality, a glass of wine-it's only cheap stuff' Ramirez was trying to pull himself together; the conventional courtesy was automatic.
'No, no, thanks. Tell me first, I believe your daughter lived here with you?-then you must have been worried that she didn't come home last night? Do you know where she was?'
The girl answered from where she had perched uneasily on the kitchen table. 'Sure, we were worried. But she might've gone to stay overnight with a girl friend, or-well, you know how it is, we sort of talked back 'n' forth and kept waiting for her maybe to call one of the neighbors with a message-Mrs. Gomez next door lets us-'
'Where had she gone and when did she leave?'
'She was-she was just out on a date. I don't know where they were going. Ricky, he was here for Elena about seven, I guess, and they went right after.' In answer to the query only begun, she added hurriedly, 'Ricky Wade, he's a boy Elena's-Elena had been going with a lot. A nice boy he is, you needn't go thinking anything about him, see. I don't know where they were going, but they did go to the Palace rink a lot-that roller-skating place, you know. Silly, I say, but Elena's-Elena was just a kid, she liked it.'
'She would have had nineteen years only the next month,' murmured Ramirez. 'It was wrong, Teresa, I said so! We should have gone to the police at once, at once! Elena was a good girl in her heart, she was properly brought up, never would she have done such a thing-all the talk around and around, I should have let you and Mama talk and gone to the police myself-'
'What would she not have done, Miss Ramirez?' asked Mendoza.
'Oh, well, I spose we got to say or you'll think it's funny we didn't seem more worried.' Her mouth tightened. 'We were going to do something about it this morning, don't know what, but-We were awful worried, you can see that, way Papa and I both stayed home from work-it wasn't as if Elena ever did nothing like that before, stay away all night and not call or nothing. But-well, we got to thinking maybe her and Ricky'd eloped-you know, over to Las Vegas or somewhere, to get married in a hurry.'
'It is not true!' exclaimed Ramirez excitedly, jumping up. The bathrobe fell open to reveal his spindly legs and unexpectedly gay pink cotton underpants. 'It is a wicked lie, that Elena is got in trouble with this fellow and has to run away and marry quick! She is a respectable girl, never would she-oh, she does this and that Mama and I don't like, sure, but she's young, it's different times and ways now, I know that-she's impatient, she wants the moon like all youngsters, but never would she-'
'I never said she did, I never! But after they made up and he came back, she sure meant to keep him, she was set on marrying him some day, you know good as I do. All I said was, if be all of a sudden wanted to elope, she wouldn't take the risk of losing him, she'd say yes quick!'
'Did you disapprove of this Mr. Wade, then?' asked Mendoza of Ramirez casually.
'Disapprove?' He moved his thin shoulders wearily. 'He is not of the faith. I don't know, if Elena wanted so bad, I-You don't have nothing to say about it any more, anyway, fathers. The kids, they go their own way. She wouldn't have been happy in such a marriage, that I thought. But it wasn't really serious, they were just youngsters-'
'Elena was serious, all right!' said Teresa. She turned to Mendoza.
'Look, you might's well know how it was, an' weasel round like I suppose you got to, to be sure Ricky didn't have nothing to do with-with killing her. That's silly, he wouldn't. Elena met him in school three years back, see- that's Sloan Heights High, where I went too. Only I had the sense to finish, and she didn't-wanted a job so's she could buy a lot of splashy clothes 'n' all-soon as she turned sixteen, she got a work permit an' a job uptown in a Hartners' store, putting stuff on the models in the windows, unpacking in the stock room, like that-'
Ramirez moved restlessly. 'All this foolishness,' he muttered, 'keeping girls in school so long-history and algebra, it don't teach them any better to keep house and bring up the kids. And Elena always give Mama her five dollars a week, regular, like she should.'
'I'm not saying nothing against her, Papa, only she should've finished like I did, learned typing and all, so's to get a better job. Sure she gave Mama money, and bought things for the kids too, she wasn't stingy. All I-'
'Mr. Wade,' murmured Mendoza.
'That's what I'm getting to. She saw I was right in the end, see? Because the Wades, they reckon they're a lot too good for the likes of us, they didn't like Ricky taking up with Elena. Mr. Wade, he works for the city, they own their house and all that-you know. Elena, she liked Ricky a lot, sure, he's a nice boy like I said, but at the same time she saw it'd be kind of a step up the ladder for her, marry into a family like that. She didn't want to stay on Liggitt Street all her life, well, who does? But the time she had a little fight with Ricky, 'n' don't go thinking it was anything
