Velvet Was the Night by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Author:Silvia Moreno-Garcia [Moreno-Garcia, Silvia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9780593356821
Google: 578jEAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0593356829
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2021-08-16T23:00:00+00:00

14

“WHAT THE FUCK are you doing this far away? Can you even see a damn thing?” Elvis asked as he sat down in the passenger’s seat. He’d brought a bag of peanuts and a couple of sodas. Elvis was going to take a short shift so El Güero could head back to the apartment and get a little shut-eye.

El Güero snorted. “I ain’t blind, like others, Mister Magoo. I can see the door of the building fine from here. Besides, I can’t park any closer. Too fucking obvious, and someone else’s already staked out the prime spot.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning we’re not the only ones watching this building. Can I have some of those?”

“Stuff yourself,” Elvis said, handing him the bag and craning his neck. “Who else’s watching?”

El Güero tore the bag of peanuts open and tossed a couple into his mouth, chewing loudly. “Like I know? Can’t very well go asking them, can I? But I can tell.”

“DFS, maybe,” Elvis muttered, remembering what Justo had said about the dude named Anaya.

“Not those fuckers, damn it. What they want?”

“I’m not sure.”

“There she is. Finally,” El Güero said as Maite Jaramillo stepped out of the building.

“Follow her.”

El Güero sighed. It seemed his naptime would have to be deferred. The woman was easy enough to tail. Elvis was more worried about the car ahead of them that also seemed to be tailing her, though once they reached Polanco, the driver either noticed Elvis’s car behind them and decided to split or simply changed his mind. Either way, by the time they parked, it was only El Güero and Elvis following the woman.

Elvis noted the address the woman went into, scribbling it in a tiny notebook. He opened his soda and they waited. Often, when they had to watch someone, Elvis brought a crossword puzzle or a book, to keep the boredom at bay. But he hadn’t bothered with that this time; he’d been too tired to remember. He hadn’t forgotten the word of the day, thank God. It was dilated. The way Elvis tried to memorize the words was to use them in everyday conversation, but El Güero thought he sounded like an idiot when he did.

Dilated, he thought, looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror. The pupil is dilated.

El Güero crossed his arms and closed his eyes, dozing off. Elvis let him, feeling kind. Besides, that way he didn’t have to talk to the guy. They’d never gotten along and they weren’t going to start now, especially if the Hawks were done for and they wouldn’t see each other again.

Not that Elvis knew the Hawks were done for, but that shit Justo had mentioned hadn’t gone down well with him.

He lit a cigarette and, having nothing better to do, began thinking about the woman they were following. She reminded Elvis of someone. Bluebeard’s wife. Well, the way he pictured Bluebeard’s wife in one of the few books he’d owned as a child, a volume of fairy tales. Each story had an illustration.

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