Free A Corpse for Cuamantla by Harol Marshall Page A

called out to the group. Everyone turned and waited for her to join them. "I'm so sorry," María apologized, catching her breath as she reached her colleagues. "The students were slow cleaning up as usual or I would have joined you sooner. Thanks for waiting."
    "Not a problem," someone replied.
    Anna noticed no one extending sympathy to María over the death of Pedro.
    "Where are your children, Maestra?" Anna whispered.
    "I took them to their nanny earlier," María said. "They were upset about missing the fiesta, but I told them there's always another fiesta. Besides, I promised to take them shopping this weekend and buy them each a favorite toy if they would be good and spend the day at their nanny's house. I know I shouldn't bribe them and usually I don't, but today is different, to put it mildly. How did you like the fiesta?" María changed the subject more brightly than usual, causing Anna to wonder what drugs were seeing her through the day. Unlike the U.S., almost anything could be bought over the counter and the teachers frequently exchanged medications with each other.
    "I loved the fiesta," Anna said, reaching for a level of normalcy in their conversation. "The students did a great job. You trained them well."
    "Bueno, but as you know everyone had a hand." Underlining that thought, María turned her attention to the teacher walking beside her. "Juan, the dances were superb. You must be very proud of your students."
    Juan Córdova smiled and put his arm around María's waist. Anna knew the two were good friends, but now she wondered if there might be more to their friendship than she realized.
    "Gracias, Maestra," Juan said. "Yes, I agree, if I can say so with all humility. My students love the native dances, which they prefer to mathematics. So I promise them that if they do their mathematics, they can go outside and practice their dances. Now that the fiesta is over, I'm not sure how I'll entice them to concentrate on their studies."
    María laughed. "Yes, I know what you mean. My first graders are no different. Fortunately, my own children love numbers. I can barely keep them supplied with activity books."
    Anna wondered why María prevented her children from attending the fiesta since she wouldn't have known of Pedro's death when she made the decision. Pedro was still alive when she dropped them off with their nanny. Maybe she didn't want the responsibility of the children interfering with her fiesta duties? What was the nature of the children's relationship with Pedro, Anna wondered, and ho w would his death affect them?
    She had so many questions— about the villagers and their hatred of Pedro, about Yolanda, even about María and her relationship with Juan Córdova, which seemed awfully cozy at the moment. She hated suspecting her friends and tried to dismiss the idea from her mind. When she talked with Miguel later, she would ask for his ideas on who murdered Pedro. She hoped he would be sober enough to answer.
    The aroma of fried onions and smoky mesquite signaled the group's arrival at the queen's adobe style casa, large by Cuamantla standards. Miguel led the teachers to the back of the house where a large crowd gathered. The expansive walled backyard adjoined the family's cornfields where a wooden gate stood open. Anna could see a knot of men standing over an enormous smoking pit. Miguel caught her eye and explained they would be feasting on barbequed goat. Anna never tasted the barbacoa dish that was a specialty of the area, although she'd sampled a version made with rabbit at one of the restaurants in the city of Tlaxcala.
    "Barbequed goat is a real treat," Miguel assured her, "especially when prepared in the traditional manner, roasted in a pit in the ground. The procedure is an elaborate one taking about six hours so the men will have begun early this morning."
    Anna was struck by the simple elegance of the setting. Three plywood tabletops rested on wooden sawhorses, each makeshift table capable of