Who Killed Palomino Molero? Read Online Free PDF

the colonel didn’t give a shit about Palomino Molero. He hadn’t shown the slightest emotion, neither this time nor the last, about the murder. He talked about the recruit as if he were a nobody, as if he weren’t worth the time of day. Was it because Molero had deserted three or four days before he was killed? In addition to being nasty, the base commander was known to be a martinet, a man who went strictly by the book. Probably fed up with discipline and being locked in, the kid went AWOL, so the colonel must consider him a criminal. Deserters should be shot.
    “The thing is, Colonel, we suspect that Palomino Molero was having an affair with someone on the base.”
    He saw that the colonel’s pale, close-shaven cheeks were turning red. His expression instantly soured and he scowled. But he never got to say a word because suddenly the door opened and Lituma saw the girl in the colonel’s photographs framed in the doorway, backlit by the fluorescent light in the corridor. She was very thin, more so than in the photos, with short, curly hair and a turned-up, disdainful little nose. She was wearing a white blouse, a blue skirt, tennis sneakers, and looked as bad-tempered as her father.
    “I’m leaving,” she said without entering the office and without acknowledging the existence of the lieutenant or Lituma. “Will the driver take me, or should I just go on mv bike?”
    In her way of speaking there was pent-up disgust, the same that spiced Colonel Mindreau’s conversation. “A chip off the old block,” thought Lituma.
    “Where are you going, dear?” The commander suddenly sweetened.
    “He doesn’t bark at her for interrupting us, for not saying hello, or even for not speaking properly. He turns as gentle as a dove.”
    “I told you this morning! To the gringos’ pool. This one’s going to be crowded until Monday. Did you forget? Will the driver take me, or should I just go on my bike?”
    “The driver will take you, Alicia darling. But have him come back right away; I need him. And tell him what time you want to be picked up.”
    The girl slammed the door and disappeared without saying goodbye. “Your daughter is our revenge,” thought Lituma.
    “That is . . .” the lieutenant began to say, but Colonel Mindreau cut him off: “What you’ve just said is pure nonsense.”
    “Excuse me, Colonel?”
    “What proof do you have, what witnesses?” The commander-in-chief turned to Lituma and scrutinized him as if he were an insect under a magnifying glass. “Where did you get that stuff about Palomino Molero having an affair with a lady from the Piura Air Force Base?”
    “I have no proof, Colonel,” stammered Lituma, frightened out of his wits. “I found out that he would give serenades around here.”
    “At the Piura Air Force Base?” The colonel again spoke as if the lieutenant and Lituma were retarded. “Do you realize who lives there? The families of the officers. Not the families of the noncoms or airmen. Only the mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters of the officers. Are you suggesting that this airman had an adulterous affair with the wife of an officer?”
    A fucking racist. That’s what he was, a fucking racist.
    “It might have been with one of the maids, Colonel,” Lituma heard the lieutenant suggest. He thanked the lieutenant with all his heart, he felt hemmed in by the colonel’s cold fury. “With a cook or a nursemaid on the base. We aren’t suggesting anything, only trying to clear up this crime, Colonel. It’s our job. This boy’s death has turned Talara upside down. They’re saying the Guardia Civil isn’t doing its job because important people are involved. We’re working in the dark, so we have to grab at anything that looks like a lead. Please don’t take any of this personally, Colonel.”
    The base commander agreed, and Lituma could see the effort he was making to keep his temper in check.
    “You may not know it, but until three months ago I was commander-in-chief