The She-Devil in the Mirror by Horacio Castellanos Moya Read Free Book Online Page A

What if it was a way of sending a
message to Marito? I wondered out loud. Why did I say that, tell me?! Because
then Diana started interrogating me as if I knew something. I told her I didn’t,
it was just a question that popped into my head. Can you imagine if I’d told her
about Olga María’s relationships with José Carlos and Yuca? Who knows what she
would have imagined! She’s very upset, the poor thing. Anybody would be in her
situation. Here we are at the roundabout; let’s see if from here to El Ranchón
the driver of the hearse will step on it a little. We’re going so slowly. But
what worries me most is this business with Yuca, because that Deputy Chief
Handal is already making all kinds of conjectures. I care about Yuca, a lot; and
he really trusts me. I mean, when his relationship with Olga María didn’t work
out and she didn’t want to tell me any details, it was Yuca himself who filled
me in. The poor guy was really down, almost desperate. He called me at home and
said he needed to see me, urgently. I already knew what it was about, but I was
still surprised because Yuca hadn’t called me for years, ever since he got
involved in politics and married Kati. We were pretty good friends before that,
I even dated him for a while. I never told you? Yes, we did. Nothing ever
happened, but we went out several times. That’s why I wasn’t totally surprised
when I got a call from him. At first I thought I should talk to Olga María
before seeing Yuca, but then I told myself that if she hadn’t wanted to tell me
anything, it was better not to insist. We agreed that the following afternoon
I’d go to his house in Miramonte, where he’d taken Olga María. Look for that
José María cassette, I love that Spanish singer. Have you heard him? I found
poor Yuca so changed—handsome, as usual, but politics ages people, my dear. It’s
a pity. But what was most noticeable was how her nervous he was. He couldn’t sit
still. Every other second he was standing up, pacing around, calling someone on
his cell phone, talking to someone on his walkie-talkie. I figured Yuca used
that house as some kind of secret office. He and I were the only ones inside;
but outside, in the garden and the garage, there were about half a dozen
bodyguards. From the minute I got there he started telling me about how I needed
to convince Olga María to see him again, how I was her best friend and only I
could make that happen, how he would be forever grateful to me if I did. He
didn’t even wait for me to sit down, get comfortable on the sofa; he didn’t even
offer me something to drink, he just launched right into his tirade about what I
should tell Olga María—it was like he was possessed. I told him to calm down and
get me a drink, I asked him if he’d totally forgotten his manners, I told him to
please remember who I was, Laura, remember me? Not some messenger-girl, and to
please get off his high horse. That’s when he offered me a whiskey and poured
another for himself, but not just a regular shot, more like a full half glass
and he downed it in one gulp. I realized he was really in bad shape, he needed
help. I asked what the hell was going on with him; I asked him to please calm
down, have a seat, relax. These are the streets I was talking about that I don’t
like. What’s this called? Colonia Costa Rica? Are you sure? I know how to get
here, I’ve come here so often to bury people, but I’ve never known what it’s
called. After you go under that bridge you can see the cemetery. I don’t know my
way at all to the main cemetery, the one downtown; I get lost in that part of
town; but I don’t think they bury anybody there anymore, my dear. As I was
saying, Yuca calmed down, sort of. I told him I couldn’t do anything for him
unless he told me in detail what had happened between him and Olga María. I
warned him to