The Beggar's Opera by Peggy Blair Read Free Book Online Page A

check the Ferris wheel — it is a magnet for children around here. He just radioed me to say that the ride operator is in the process of opening up the park. He says the man seems very nervous.”
    Not surprising, thought Ramirez. Most Cubans were frightened by a visit by the police.
    “Perhaps he is concerned that the presence of the policía will deter potential customers. What did Lopez find out?”
    “There was a boy dressed in red shorts that ran around with a small gang of boys yesterday. Chasing after tourists for money.”
    “Have Lopez take a statement, will you?”
    “Already done, sir.”
    “Good. Did the witness know the boy’s name?”
    “No, sir. But one of the officers who usually stands in front of the Palacio de los Marqueses de Aguas Claras stopped some boys in the late afternoon and warned them to be less aggressive with tourists. He remembers one had a yellow shirt and red shorts with a white print. He recorded his name in his notebook and threatened to contact the boy’s parents if he didn’t stop bothering the extranjeros . It could be the same boy.”
    “It probably is.”
    Ramirez recorded Espinoza’s badge and section number in his notebook and considered having him transferred to his own section. Foot patrol officers who could think independentlywere as rare as chickens. Most were nearly brain-dead with boredom.
    He thanked the young patrolman, then picked up his radio and had Dispatch contact Detective Sanchez.
    “Rodriguez, I need you to do one more thing before you come here,” Inspector Ramirez said. “Get in touch with Interpol, will you? I want a criminal record check on Señor Ellis.”
    Ramirez pulled his daughter’s crumpled drawing out of his pocket and provided Sanchez with the Canadian’s full name and date of birth. He was glad he had managed to find a pen. Finding a pencil could take years.
    “Tell me, is that Señor Rivero, the fisherman?” Ramirez inclined his head to a gnarled man in his late sixties or seventies who stood nearby, a metal bait can at his feet. The man looked shaken and somewhat bewildered.
    “Yes. I asked him to wait, in case you had any questions.”
    Ramirez walked over to Rivero. The older man was shaking. From wading into the cold water, no doubt, but likely also from his find. A child’s body was not what Rivero got up so early that morning to catch.
    Words poured from the old man like water. “When I saw the bright red fabric puffed out with air in the current, I thought that someone lost a jacket. It looked like a flower, blooming in the waves. Then I saw a small brown hand floating above the water and realized what it was.”
    The fisherman’s knees were bleeding, scraped on the jagged rocks as he dragged the boy’s body from the water. His face was ashen. He was clearly in shock. Ramirez put his arm around the man’s shoulder and gently escorted him to Apiro.
    “Thank you, Señor Rivero, for everything you have done here. Believe me, it is much appreciated.”
    “There was nothing I could do.” The man shook his head, his eyes red from tears. “He was already dead. So small, just a boy.”
    “Hector, can you put a bandage on that knee for Señor Rivero? And if you have a thermos with you, I think Señor Rivero could use a coffee to warm him up.”
    Apiro nodded and smiled at the man kindly as he reached into his kit. Ramirez knew he would make sure Rivero had a shot of rum before he left as well. “Dr. Apiro will take care of your injuries. Is there anything else we can do for you?”
    “No, Inspector, thank you.”
    “Let’s hope the rest of your day is less upsetting. But you should feel very proud of the way you behaved today; you did well to brave the cold water.”
    Many Cubans would have walked the other way when they saw the body in the water. Afraid they would be blamed somehow for the child’s death.
    Ramirez looked more closely at the child’s body. The boy was shirtless, malnourished, like so many Cuban children.