Fiesta

by Steve Torres

Susana Ortiz swayed to the salsa music being played from a temporary stage at the far end of the little plazita in Angustias. She knew she was being watched, there was nothing new in that. The eyes of men had been upon her since she had emerged from puberty so beautiful, she had been told once, that men wished they had never sinned so that they might touch her. She was just shy of six feet tall and every inch of her curves was a luxury. She was dressed for the party – a short red dress, black high heels, her black hair let down and loose. And she had come alone. There was no man in her life. Still, she had only danced three times all night, once with an old man who proved that he really did need a cane to get around, and with two young boys who she thought had been dared – no doubt they would talk for days about having her breasts at cheek level and putting an arm around her waist.

She stood alone, sipping a rum coquito through a thin straw, hoping some man would ask her to dance, and planning what to say if she were forced to choose a partner and ask him instead. With her luck, he would run away without saying anything, intimidated by her height or unable to ignore the fact she was the sheriff of Naranjito, the next town over. So she swayed to the music and watched others drink and dance, and eat cotton candy and wait in line for the tilt-a-whirl. She sipped her drink and watched the crowd, policing though she was off duty.

Angustias was a small town, and the sheriff, Luis Gonzalo, had exactly one deputy, Emilio Collazo, nearing seventy. Officers from adjoining towns were invited to the fiestas patronales , nine days of masses and carnival celebrating the patron saint of Angustias, Santa Maria de los Dolores y Angustias, Saint Mary of the Pains and Anguishes. Several of Susana's own officers were there, watching the festivities from the perimeters, patrolling the town, earning overtime pay. They broke up fights before they became riots and watched for pickpockets.

A pickup truck, bright red and new, pulled into the sidestreet nearest her. She watched. The driver and his passenger argued. The driver checked his rearview mirror, but there was a line of cars behind him. During the fiestas , all the side streets leading to the central plaza would fill with cars; by nine at night, they were all impassible. It was near ten. Things wouldn't begin to clear for another three hours.

The driver pulled a bit closer to the curb, boxed in behind and ahead, and turned off the motor. He threw his head back in exasperation. Susana watched. His passenger said something to him, facing him in his seat, his hands up in supplication, probably apologizing for having given bad directions. The driver smacked the passenger, knocking his glasses off. That's when Sheriff Ortiz noticed the men were wearing sunglasses at night. She also noticed that the passenger had a black eye, swelled shut in fact. The passenger fished for his sunglasses on the floor of the pickup cab and put them back on; he seemed to beg forgiveness. The driver pulled his fist back as though he were going to punch, but he didn't. Instead, both men got out.

The driver went to the truck bed and checked something. He turned his head nervously, looking around to see if anyone was watching him. When he looked at Susana, she was moving her hips to the slow music introducing a salsa ballad. She looked back at him and smiled. She waved with the pinky of the hand that held her straw in coquette fashion. His smile back was half sneer. He checked his payload again, then he and his passenger started walking towards the plaza.

Sheriff Luis Gonzalo walked up to Susana.

“Having a good time?” he asked as the two men passed by.

Susana nodded. The music got louder, and with a few steps she was sure the men were out of hearing range.

“I'm watching those two,” she told Gonzalo, moving a step closer to him. He was in uniform, and she was afraid of looking too comfortable talking with the police just then. Gonzalo just smiled without looking at the men she was talking about. Instead, he smiled like she had just told a joke.

“What are you watching them for?” he asked.

“Sunglasses, the short one has a swelled shut eye, they were arguing and they've got something in the truck bed in that makes them nervous.”

“Want me to do anything?”

“Get the uniformed guys over to the other side of the plaza. They're watching the cops, I think. Maybe I can talk to one of them.”

“Okay, you know where I am,” Gonzalo said, and he walked over to one of the nearest uniformed officers, on loan from Aibonito. They walked to the far side of the plaza in conversation.

The driver and passenger were, in fact, watching the uniformed officers. Susana finished her drink quickly and walked towards a public garbage can a few feet past the truck, and she took a look into the truck bed. There was sand and several leaves, four or five empty beer bottles, a dog chain without a collar, and one sneaker that looked like it had been wet and sun-dried many times. There was also a blue tarp wrapping a large package, about three feet by four, tied around with yellow nylon rope. A thirty pound cinder block was sitting on top of the tarp, tied to it with the rope.

The passenger and driver were looking at her as she walked back towards the plaza. She smiled again. They turned away from her and leaned towards each other, talking. The passenger started walking back towards the truck, the driver kept drinking from a paper cup, casually surveying the crowd, the band, and the uniformed officers mingling throughout.

“Hi,” Susana said to the passenger as he neared.

She was hoping to sound flirtatious. She did. He smiled and nodded in her direction.

“What's your name?” she asked.

He had his hand on the passenger side door handle. She moved closer to him, stepping into the street still moving to the beat of the music. He pointed to himself as he answered.

“Me? I'm Marcos,” he said. He cast a glance at his partner, and when his eyes came back to Susana, they didn't meet with her eyes first. First, they roamed a bit.

“You want to dance?” she asked.

He pointed to himself again.

“Me? I shouldn't. We're leaving soon. I should wait in the car.”

“It's a fiesta, Marcos. You can have one little dance.”

She took hold of his right hand and pulled him a foot away from the car and closer to herself. He was tense for a second, but put a hand on her waist.

“I really should wait in the truck,” Marcos protested, but he danced anyway, and Susana ignored him. She rested an arm on his shoulder.

“Why don't you take off the sun glasses, Marcos, it's nighttime.”

“Why?”

“I want to see your eyes. It makes things… I don't know, more personal,” she said. Her smile was radiant; she was using all her charm.

“I shouldn't.”

“Oh, why, because you have a bruise? I can tell that even with the glasses on.”

“I just better not,” he answered.

“Did you fight with the guy who drove you over?”

“Him? No, no. What makes you say that?”

“He's wearing sun glasses too. I'll bet you got him pretty good.” She pulled closer to Marcos, her body was touching his, though dancing salsa doesn't usually call for such proximity.

“Well, we got into a little fight,” Marcos said. “I guess we both came out about even.” Marcos was being modest and bragging at the same time.

“What's his name?”

“Who? Him? Why do you want to know?” He turned nervous.

“Maybe I'll go over there and give him a piece of my mind,” Susana said. She shot a glance over at the driver, staring daggers at him, then she smiled back at Marcos.

“His name is Rafael, but I can take care of myself,” Marcos answered. He was smiling at the joke of a woman defending a man.

“Okay, just let me know if you want my help.”

The couple danced on through the end of that song, and the band addressed the audience, taking requests. Someone called out a title and they started to play; Susana had not released her partner though he looked over at the truck several times. Rafael looked over and saw Marcos dancing; he started to move towards the couple. Susana saw this and knew she had little time.

“What brought you guys out to Angustias? I know you're not from around here,” she asked.

“Oh, we were headed to Ponce from San Juan . We thought the road was going to take us around the center of town, not through it. Once we got here, we couldn't back out again, so I guess we're going to enjoy ourselves until people start moving their cars.”

“What's in Ponce ?”

Marcos hesitated before answering.

“We were going to go to the beach.”

“At night?” Susana asked, but Rafael interrupted them before she could get an answer.

“Didn't I tell you to get in the truck, Marcos?”

“Excuse me,” Susana said. “Who the hell are you?” She was hoping to get Marcos to go with her against Rafael. Rafael looked like the man in charge of whatever operation was planned. She wanted Marcos to rebel, but when she turned to him, he was already making his way into the truck cab.

“Well, if you're going to chase away my partner, I guess that means you're going to finish the dance with me?” Susana took Rafael by the hand and drew him close. He stared to pull away, but he could see Gonzalo and another uniformed officer walking in his general direction. He put a hand firmly on each of Susana's hips. Unlike Marcos, Rafael had no idea how to dance and wasn't at all interested in her. Instead, he kept his eyes roving over the crowds and passersby. Susana was left to do all the work of leading the dance and the conversation.

“So,” she started. “Did you guys fight or something?”

Rafael looked her square in the eye for a second, then he lied.

“No. What makes you say that?”

“The sunglasses. I can still see bruises on both of you. I just assumed you guys had fought, maybe over a girl or money or something.”

Gonzalo and the other officer walked past the dancing couple. Rafael was looking at his shoes when Gonzalo and Susana glanced at each other. Enough passed in that glance to tell Gonzalo that Sheriff Ortiz was in control of the situation.

“Did Marcos say that?”

“No, no. I was just thinking. I love it when guys act all macho.”

“We fell,” Rafael said. He tried to move Susana around so he could take a look into the truck cab.

“You both fell? Where? Down some stairs?”

“Look lady, why don't we just finish the dance so I can go?”

“Go? Where are you going? Your truck is still boxed in.”

“Maybe I just want to sit in my truck,” he answered.

“You're supposed to make a delivery tonight?”

She was fishing. She knew the song, and she knew it was coming near its end. Rafael didn't seem likely to want a second dance, and it would be hard to entice Marcos back out of the truck. He had put his head back and closed his eyes as soon as he got in.

“Delivery? Did Marcos tell you that?”

“He didn't say anything. I saw the big package in the back of the truck. You guys seem to be in a hurry. I just figured…”

“No delivery lady, we just want to leave.”

“Come on. You can tell me,” Susana turned playful as the band played the last chords. “What are you guys, some big city drug dealers? What do you have in the truck? A hundred pounds of cocaine?” She laughed as though she was joking, but she would have loved an answer. Instead, he let go of her waist and walked to the truck and got in without saying a word.

Susana, partnerless again, walked past the truck to a sidewalk piragua vendor. He shaved ice into a cone and covered it with cherry syrup. She passed the truck again and headed for the plaza.

Out of sight of the truck, she found Gonzalo.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“Nothing yet.”

“The passenger loves you coming and going,” Gonzalo said. “He was watching you while you danced with the driver, and he adjusted the sideview mirror when you walked past. Anyway, I ran the plates; the truck's clean, registered to one Rafael Matos.”

“That's the driver,” Ortiz said. “They're headed to Ponce .”

“What's in Ponce ?”

“The passenger says they were headed for the beach.”

“At night?”

“That's what I said, but I didn't get an answer. Anyway, they gave each other black eyes and now they're driving from San Juan .”

Gonzalo thought about this information. If what they wanted was just a beach, there were plenty of perfectly good beaches available to them in and near San Juan . He was convinced that there was something going on that merited the suspicion he felt, but he didn't have probable cause to detain them or even ask to search their truck. He looked at Ortiz.

“I don't really want to let these guys go anywhere, but unless I can get more information, I have nothing to hold them for. Once the crowd starts to thin out, they'll drive away, and that's the end of that.”

“I can get more information if I can get to the passenger,” Ortiz said.

“How do you plan to do that?

Ortiz pulled at the front of her dress, bringing her neckline down and revealing more of the cleavage between ample, firm breasts.

“That could work,” Gonzalo thought to himself. Out loud he said, “I'll be right around the corner from you if you need help.”

The windows were up in the truck cab, and Susana could tell the air conditioning was on full blast from the condensation that had started forming. She walked up to the passenger side and knocked on the glass smiling. Marcos lowered the window, and the cold air hit the officer's breasts as she leaned in. Marcos's eyes were drawn to her chest, and he licked his lips before asking what she wanted. He was smiling into her face, but had difficulty keeping his eyes where they were supposed to be during a conversation.

“I was just wondering if Marcos could come out for a dance, just one more dance, I swear,” she added, seeing Rafael was upset at the intrusion. “Then I'll leave you guys alone.”

Marcos put his hand on the door handle, but Rafael stopped him.

“Marcos cannot come out to dance. We're trying to have a conversation here. Excuse me.”

Rafael used his driver's side control of the windows to shut Susana out. She took a step away from the truck and put out her hands palms up, showing her frustration. She started to walk away, and Marcos wiped condensation from the windshield to follow her with his eyes. That's when Rafael Matos couldn't take it any longer. He punched Marcos so hard, Susana heard the whack through the closed windows of the truck and above the loud music from the plaza. She spun around and saw Rafael was up with one knee on the seat of the truck and he was punching Marcos as fast and as hard as he could. She yelled for Gonzalo at the top of her lungs, and he came running, a younger deputy in tow.

Though the windows were closed, the doors weren't locked. Gonzalo pulled open the driver's side door and pulled Rafael onto the sidewalk still punching and kicking now. Gonzalo needed only one squirt of mace to calm Rafael. Susana opened Marcos's door, and the young man fell out; she eased him onto the asphalt. He was unconscious for a full minute. When he came to, he was happy to tell Susana everything she wanted to know.

He and Rafael were lovers, and he knew it was bad of him, but he couldn't help looking at women. In fact, he let Susana know with a smile, he couldn't help doing a lot of things with women, especially if they were beautiful like her. Rafael had become violent the day before because he had seen Marcos with a woman who lived near them in Old San Juan.

“He beat her,” Marcos said, losing his smile. “He beat her to death.”

“She's under the tarp?” Susana asked.

Marcos nodded yes.

“We were going to take her to Ponce . Rafael has an uncle that lives near the beach there. He owns a boat,” Marcos said. Susana was already climbing into the back of the truck.

When she had untied the nylon rope and gotten under the tarp, she found a woman who was badly beaten and in what doctors later called “a light coma.” When she came out of the coma two days later, she confirmed from her hospital bed what Marcos had to say about the events that had brought her to Angustias. She was surprised, however, to hear that Marcos and Rafael were lovers.

“They're gay?” she asked. Susana Ortiz, now in uniform, confirmed what was news to the young lady.

“But I've been to bed with both of them,” the young lady said. “I just thought Rafael was jealous of Marcos and was punishing me for being unfaithful.”

Sheriff Ortiz left the young lady in her confusion. In a few days the fiestas patronales would start up for her city, and she had much to do to prepare.