A Corpse for Cuamantla Read Online Free PDF

fifteen minutes ago over at Rosa's, then he crossed the street into the rose garden."
    Miguel gave her a knowing look. "He wouldn't have stayed long there. I sent a couple of children into the school a few minutes ago but no luck. He's around here somewhere. I wish I could say this was unusual, but tracking down Pedro is like hunting cockroaches."
    Great analogy, Anna thought , irked at the negative thinking Pedro brought out in her.
    "Bueno, we can't wait any longer," Miguel said, "we're already late and we have a long afternoon of festivities once we return. Get your camera ready, Maestra. When Pedro hears the rockets he'll catch up with us. I hope you remembered to wear your walking shoes today."
    Miguel signaled the village cueteros , the official rocket firers , to light the large rocket poised at the edge of their display. The resulting boom signaled the musicians. The bands played and the parade moved forward. Anna walked backwards to film the march, nearly colliding with two of the rocket firers as the procession slowly surged out of the zócalo and down the rocky Cuaxpo road.
    A second group of cueteros stood guard over the intricate fireworks display in the center of the plaza. Later when darkness settled over the village, they would dispatch the rest of their handiwork. Anna hoped the men would stay sober. If she spent the evening in Cuamantla, she’d watch the fireworks from a classroom, probably the safest place in the village.

Chapter 6
     
    M aría Guadalupe Costanza Piedras sat at the wooden table in the sparsely furnished school office listening to the distant sounds of the parade. Her intense brown eyes stared vacantly at the splotched aqua walls plastered with vivid government posters extolling the virtues of well-balanced meals and potable water. A movie reel ran inside her head replaying the events of the past few weeks, rendering her emotional state a seesaw of despair and grief. Life with Pedro was a roller coaster ride. She knew their relationship had to end, knew she would be the one to end it, but she never anticipated a morning like this one.
    María had woken early, explaining to Pedro for the last time that her life had more than its share of turmoil and she was leaving him, but her words fell on deaf ears.
    "I need security," she told him, "and if you can't provide it, there are others who can." One person in particular, but she wouldn't share that with Pedro although she suspected he already knew.
    Pedro responded by flying into alternating fits of rage and passion, whichever he felt might reach her, manipulate her into seeing things his way. He was good at taking advantage of her passionate and generous nature. The question now was whether she could live with the outcome of her decision. Today was a new beginning for María. She would steel herself for the consequences; summon the courage to follow this new path to its inevitable conclusion.
    The death of her husband at the age of thirty-one had changed María's outlook on life, quashing her idealism and honing a toughness even her family found disconcerting. Early in life she'd rejected the life imposed on her mother, one of drudgery and dependence. Escaping her mother's fate was hard work, but María never faltered. Work was the easy part, and she felt she'd succeeded until that Friday night when her drunken husband left the small bar where he and his equally intoxicated compatriots congregated after work, bid hasta luego to his friends and drove down the Apizaco road into oblivion, leaving María and their two children bereft, confused, angry, and alone.
    In one sense, Pedro rescued her, not that she lacked would-be rescuers. She was more than attractive with her light skin and hazel brown eyes set off by a thick mane of straight black hair tied back in an Indian-style braid. No, the matter bothering her the last few months was the nagging suspicion she was another of Pedro's victims. Each time she confronted him over the status of his