Free An Inconsequential Murder by Rodolfo Peña Page A

boss.” He closed his cell phone which dinged again and showed him he had a message. It was from Casimiro who was still at the lab. He said that Lombardo’s laundry was very dirty and it would take a while to wash it. He sent one back: “ nsto la ropa lmpp ” (I need the clothes as soon as possible.). Then he added, “ xtrma kuida2, ” warning him to be careful. Lombardo hoped he would understand that he shouldn’t be sending frivolous messages.
     
    He stood in front of the entrance to La Iglesia and made another phone call. The Medical Examiner’s office receptionist was gone and the answering machine came on but he knew Dr. Figueroa’s extension.
     
    Dr. Ernesto Figueroa, head of the forensic lab answered. Dr. Figueroa said that the body had been formally identified by the victim’s father and brother. The widow, too distraught, had not shown up. The father had signed the form authorizing further pathology studies after the required autopsy. He would let Lombardo know the results as soon as they were done.
     
    “ When will that be, Doctor?” Lombardo asked.
     
    “ Come by tomorrow afternoon; I might have something for you then,” said Dr. Figueroa.
     
    Lombardo typed a reminder into his phone about the widow. He would go and see her in a day or two, after she had been through the worst and had a chance to calm down. He also wrote a note about talking to the father and
the brother.
     
    Finally , he called the department and told the policewoman at the reception desk that if anyone sent him anything, not to put it on his desk but to wait to give it to him personally.
     
    “ I don’t want anybody messing with anything sent to me, OK?”
     
    “ Yes, Captain.”
     
    He pushed the heavy wooden doors—leftovers from when the place was a convent—and walked in.
     
    Inside it was cool and dark. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lugubrious atmosphere lit only by red and blue neon signs. A projector was displaying a football match on a huge screen. The sounds of the game filled the cavernous room. Way in the back he saw a hand waving at him.
     
    He weaved his way through the mostly empty tables to where his friend sat grinning at him; his dark features blended into the shadowy atmosphere so that only his Cheshire Cat smile shone like a waning moon.
     
    “ ¿ Qué tal, Lupe ?” he said as he shook his friend’s hand.
     
    José Guadalupe Salgado was a friend from his University days. While Lombardo had studied economics because that was where all the political action was going on, his friend Lupe, always the practical man, had joined the very first generation of a brand new faculty, Computer Science and Systems Engineering. While Lombardo was hiding away in the U.S. Army, Lupe had graduated as a Systems Engineer and worked for corporations as a programmer, computer technician, and computer site manager. Eventually he quit to form his own company. He had set up the very first ISP, Internet Service Provider, in Monterrey.
     
    Ugly as a toad, Lupe nevertheless had a “way with the ladies” and had 6 kids with two different women by the time he was 21. “I love fast cars and faster women,” he would say with a chuckle. Lombardo thought him a jerk on that score but had to admit he was a genius when it came to computers.
     
    Before Lombardo even sat down, the waiter was already there waiting to take his order. “The same,” said Lombardo pointing to his friend’s Bohemia beer.
     
    “ It’s been a long time,” said Lupe.
     
    “ Yeah, too long. They keep me busy at the Department,” said Lombardo while lighting a Delicado.
     
    “ I can’t believe you still smoke those things; I mean, I could see why you smoked them when we were students and had no money but now…” said Lupe. He smoked Marlboro Lights. He had always smoked the most popular brands. Lupe had smoked nothing but Raleigh cigarettes when they were the most popular, and the most expensive, back in the seventies.