“theygonearlennox’sroomatall?”

heliftedhisheadsharplybutthegreencheatersdidn’tdoathingforme.“whyshouldthey,señor?”

inodded.“well,itwasdamnniceofyoutocomeinhereandtellmeaboutit,señormaioranos.tellrandyi’meversograteful,willyou?”

“nohaydeque,señor.itisnothing.”

“andlateron,ifhehastime,hecouldsendmesomebodywhoknowswhatheistalkingabout.”

“señor?”hisvoicewassoft,buticy.“youdoubtmyword?”

“youguysarealwaystalkingabouthonor.honoristhecloakofthieves—sometimes.don’tgetmad.sitquietandletmetellitanotherway.”

heleanedbacksuperciliously.

“i’monlyguessing,mind.icouldbewrong.buticouldberighttoo.thesetwoamericanoswerethereforapurpose.theycameinonaplane.theypretendedtobehunters.oneofthemwasnamedmenendez,agambler.heregisteredundersomeothernameornot.iwouldn’tknow.lennoxknewtheywerethere.heknewwhy.hewrotemethatletterbecausehehadaguiltyconscience.hehadplayedmeforasuckerandhewastooniceaguyforthattoresteasyonhim.heputthebill—fivethousanddollarsitwas—intheletterbecausehehadalotofmoneyandheknewihadn’t.healsoputinalittleoff-beathintwhichmightormightnotregister.hewasthekindofguywhoalwayswantstodotherightthingbutsomehowwindsupdoingsomethingelse.yousayyoutookthelettertothecorreo.whydidn’tyoumailitintheboxinfrontofthehotel?”

“thebox,señor?”

“themailbox.thecajóncartero,youcallit,ithink.”

hesmiled.“otatoclánisnotmexicocity,señor.itisaveryprimitiveplace.astreetmailboxinotatodán?noonetherewouldunderstandwhatitwasfor.noonewouldcollectlettersfromit.”

isaid:“oh.well,skipit.youdidnottakeanycoffeeonanytrayuptoseñorlennox’sroom,señormaioranos.youdidnotgointotheroompastthedick.butthetwoamericanosdidgoin.thedickwasfixed,ofcourse.sowereseveralotherpeople.oneoftheamericanossluggedlennoxfrombehind.thenhetookthemauserpistolandopeneduponeofthecartridgesandtookoutthebulletandputthecartridgebackinthebreech.thenheputthisguntolennox’stempleandpulledthetrigger.itmadeanasty-lookingwound,butitdidnotkillhim.thenhewascarriedoutonastretchercoveredupandwellhidden.thenwhentheamericanlawyerarrived,lennoxwasdopedandpackediniceandkeptinadarkcornerofthecarpinteríawherethemanwasmakingacoffin.theamericanlawyersawlennoxthere,hewasice-cold,inadeepstupor,andtherewasabloodyblackenedwoundinhistemple.helookedplentydead.thenextdaythecoffinwasburiedwithstonesinit.theamericanlawyerwenthomewiththefingerprintsandsomekindofdocumentwhichwasapieceofcheese.howdoyoulikethat,señormaioranos?”

heshrugged.“itwouldbepossible,señor.itwouldrequiremoneyandinfluence.itwouldbepossible,perhaps,ifthisseñormenendezwascloselyrelatedtoimportantpeopleinotatoclán,thealcalde,thehotelproprietorandsoon.”

“well,that’spossibletoo.it’sagoodidea.itwouldexplainwhytheypickedaremotelittleplacelikeotatoclán.”

hesmiledquickly.“thenseñorlennoxmaystillbealive,no?”

“sure.thesuicidehadtobesomekindoffaketobackuptheconfession.ithadtobegoodenoughtofoolalawyerwhohadbeenadistrictattorney,butitwouldmakeaverysickmonkeyoutofthecurrentifitbackfired.thismenendezisnotastoughashethinksheis,buthewastoughenoughtopistol-whipmefornotkeepingmynoseclean.sohehadtohavereasons.ifthefakegotexposed,menendezwouldberightinthemiddleofaninternationalstink.themexicansdon’tlikecrookedpoliceworkanymorethanwedo.”

“allthatispossible,señor,asiverywellknow.butyouaccusedmeoflying.yousaidididnotgointotheroomwhereseñorlennoxwasandgethisletter.”

“youwerealreadyinthere,chum—writingtheletter.”

hereachedupandtookthedarkglassesoff.nobodycanchangethecolorofaman’seyes.

“isupposeit’sabittooearlyforagimlet,”hesaid.