In Evil Hour by Gabriel García Márquez

Author:Gabriel García Márquez [Márquez, Gabriel García]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Cities and towns, Paranoia, Murderers
ISBN: 9780141032511
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2008-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

"Not for me," the manager said. "But on the other hand, it would be a gold mine for you. It's obvious: the priest wouldn't come to you with the business of his little bells."

The mayor reflected before answering.

"It sounds good to me," he said.

But he didn't say anything concrete. He put his feet on the bench in front and lost himself in the turns of a tangled drama which in the end, according to what he thought, didn't deserve even four bells.

When he left the movie he lingered at the poolroom, where they were playing lotto. It was hot and the radio was sweating out some stony music. After drinking a bottle of soda water, the mayor went off to bed.

He walked unconcerned along the riverbank, sensing the flooded river in the darkness, the sound of its entrails and its smell of a huge animal. Opposite the bedroom door he stopped abruptly. Taking a leap backward, he unholstered his revolver.

"Come out where I can see you," he said in a tense voice, "or I'll blow your head off."

A very sweet voice came out of the darkness.

"Don't be so nervous, Lieutenant."

He stood pointing his revolver until the hidden person came out into the light. It was Casandra.

"You escaped just by a hair," the mayor said.

He had her come to the bedroom. For a long time Casandra spoke, following an irregular course. She sat on the hammock and while she spoke she took off her shoes and looked with a certain candor at her toenails, which were painted a vivid red.

Sitting opposite her, fanning himself with his cap, the mayor followed the conversation with conventional correctness. He had gone back to smoking. When it struck twelve, she lay face down in the hammock, reached out an arm adorned with a set of noisy bracelets, and pinched his nose.

"It's late, boy," she said. "Turn out the light."

The mayor smiled.

"It wasn't for that," he said.

She didn't understand.

"Do you know how to tell fortunes?" the mayor asked.

Casandra sat up in the hammock again. "Of course," she said. And then, having understood, she put her shoes on.

"But I didn't bring my cards," she said.

"Anyone who eats dirt"—the mayor smiled—"carries his own soil."

He took out a worn deck from the bottom of his suitcase. She examined each card, front and back, with serious attention. "The other cards are better," she said. "But in any case, the important thing is the message." The mayor pulled over a small table, sat down across from her, and Casandra laid out the cards.

"Love or business?" she asked.

The mayor dried the sweat on his hands.

"Business," he said.

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