“themailboxbothersme,”isaid.“wherehesaystherewasamailboxonthestreetunderhiswindowandthehotelwaiterwasgoingtoholdhisletterupbeforehemailedit,soterrycouldseethatitwasmailed.”

somethinginendicott’seyeswenttosleep.“why?”heaskedindifferently.hepickedanotherofhisfilteredcigarettesoutofasquarebox.iheldmylighteracrossthedeskforhim.

“theywouldn’thaveoneinaplacelikeotatoclán,”isaid.

“goon.”

“ididn’tgetitatfirst.thenilookedtheplaceup.it’samerevillage.populationsaytenortwelvethousand.onestreetpartlypaved.thejefehasamodelafordasanofficialcar.thepostofficeisinthecornerofastore,thechanceria,thebutchershop.onehotel,acoupleofcantinas,nogoodroads,asmallairfield.there’shuntingaroundthereinthemountains—lotsofit.hencetheairfield.onlydecentwaytogetthere.”

“goon.iknowaboutthehunting.”

“sothere’samailboxonthestreet.likethere’saracecourseandadogtrackandagolfcourseandajaialaifrontónandparkwithacoloredfountainandabandstand.”

“thenhemadeamistake,”endicottsaidcoldly.“perhapsitwassomethingthatlookedlikeamailboxtohim—sayatrashreceptacle.”

istoodup.ireachedfortheletterandrefoldeditandputitbackinmypocket.

“atrashreceptacle,”isaid.“sure,that’sit.paintedwiththemexicancolors,green,white,red,andasignonitstenciledinlargeclearprint:keepourcityclean.inspanish,ofcourse.andlyingarounditsevenmangydogs.”

“don’tgetcute,marlowe.”

“sorryifiletmybrainsshow.anothersmallpointihavealreadyraisedwithrandystarr.howcomethelettergotmailedatall?accordingtotheletterthemethodwasprearranged.sosomebodytoldhimaboutthemailbox.sosomebodylied.sosomebodymailedtheletterwithfivegrandinitjustthesame.intriguing,don’tyouagree?”

hepuffedsmokeandwatcheditfloataway.

“what’syourconclusion—andwhyringstarrinonit?”

“starrandaheelnamedmenendez,nowremovedfromourmidst,werepalsofterry’sinthebritisharmy.theyarewronggeesinaway—ishouldsayinalmosteveryway—buttheystillhaveroomforpersonalprideandsoon.therewasacover-uphereengineeredforobviousreasons.therewasanothersortofcover-upinotatoclán,forentirelydifferentreasons.”

“what’syourconclusion?”heaskedmeagainandmuchmoresharply.

“what’syours?”

hedidn’tanswerme.soithankedhimforhistimeandleft.

hewasfrowningasiopenedthedoor,butithoughtitwasanhonestfrownofpuzzlement.ormaybehewastryingtorememberhowitlookedoutsidethehotelandwhethertherewasamailboxthere.

itwasanotherwheeltostartturning—nomore.itturnedforasolidmonthbeforeanythingcameup.

thenonacertainfridaymorningifoundastrangerwaitingformeinmyoffice.hewasawell-dressedmexicanorsuramericanoofsomesort.hesatbytheopenwindowsmokingabrowncigarettethatsmelledstrong.hewastallandveryslenderandveryelegant,withaneatdarkmustacheanddarkhair,ratherlongerthanwewearit,andafawn-coloredsuitofsomelooselywovenmaterial.heworethosegreensunglasses.hestooduppolitely.

“señormarlowe?”

“whatcanidoforyou?”

hehandedmeafoldedpaper.“unavisodepartedelseñorstarrenlasvegas,señor.hablaustedespañol?”

“yeah,butnotfast.englishwouldbebetter.”

“englishthen,”hesaid.“itisallthesametome.”

itookthepaperandreadit.“thisintroducesciscomaioranos,afriendofmine.ithinkhecanfixyouup.s.”

“let’sgoinside,señormaioranos,”isaid.

iheldthedooropenforhim.hesmelledofperfumeashewentby.hiseyebrowswereawfullydamneddaintytoo.butheprobablywasn’tasdaintyashelookedbecausetherewereknifescarsonbothsidesofhisface.