Free Who Killed Palomino Molero? by Mario Vargas Llosa Page A

eyes jumping out of her head. One of the little girls started to cry.
    “I’ll be honest with you.” The lieutenant exhaled a mouthful of smoke and seemed distracted, watching the smoke disappear. Suddenly he went on, in a harsh voice: “If you don’t cooperate, if you don’t answer my questions, there’s going to be a fucking mess here the likes of which you’ve never seen. I’ll tell you right out, bad words and all, so you can see how serious it is. I don’t want to have to take you in, to bring you all the way to Talara and throw you in jail. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life in jail for having withheld evidence and being an accomplice after the fact. I assure you that I don’t want any of that, Doña Lupe.”
    The child continued to whimper, and Lituma put his finger on his lips to tell her to keep still. She stuck out her tongue and smiled.
    “They’ll kill me.” She moaned, but she wasn’t crying. There was animal fear in her dry eyes. Lituma didn’t dare take a breath, because he imagined that if he moved or made a sound something bad would happen.
    He saw that Lieutenant Silva very carefully undid his holster, took out his service revolver, and put it on the table, shoving the remains of the goat stew to one side. He patted the pistol as he spoke: “No one’s going to lay a hand on you, Doña Lupe. As long as you tell us the truth. I’ll defend you myself if it comes to that.”
    The crazy braying of a donkey broke the silence of the world outside the shack. “They’re breeding her,” thought Lituma.
    “They threatened me. They said, ‘If you talk, you’re dead,’ “ howled the woman, raising her arms over her head. She squeezed her face between her hands and twisted her entire body. Her teeth were chattering loudly. “It’s not my fault, what did I do, sir? I can’t die and leave my babies alone in the world. My husband was killed by a tractor, sir.”
    The children playing in the dirt turned when they heard her scream, but after a few seconds they lost interest and went back to their games. The one who’d started to cry had crawled to the doorway of the cabin.
    “They took out their guns too, so who should I believe them or you?” She tried to cry, made faces, rubbed her arms, but her eyes were still dry. She beat her breast and made the sign of the cross.
    Lituma took a look outside. No, her screams had not brought out the neighbors. Through the doorway and even through some of the cracks in the walls, you could see the closed door of St. Nicholas Church as well as the deserted plaza. The children, who up to a minute ago had been kicking a rag ball around the wooden gazebo, were no longer there. “They’ve called them and hidden them. Their parents grabbed them by the neck and dragged them into the shacks so they wouldn’t see or hear what was going to happen here.” They all knew about Palomino Molero. They were all witnesses. Now for sure the mystery would be solved.
    “Calm down, let’s go over this thing one piece at a time. We’re in no hurry.” But again the lieutenant’s tone contradicted his words: he didn’t want to calm her down but get her even more frightened. He was cold and threatening: “Nobody’s going to touch you. I swear on my honor. Providing you tell the truth. Providing you tell me everything you know.”
    “I don’t know anything, nothing. I’m afraid, my God.” But anyone could see in her face, in her dejection, that she knew everything and that she had no strength left to deny it. “Help me, St. Nicholas.”
    She crossed herself twice and kissed her crossed fingers.
    “Start at the beginning. When and why did Palomino Molero come here? How long did you know him?”
    “I didn’t know him. I’d never seen him before in my life.” Her voice rose and fell, as if she’d lost control of her throat. Her eyes were rolling in her head. “I wouldn’t have let him stay here if it hadn’t been for the girl. They were looking for