Death in the Andes Read Online Free Page B

dress she had worn that afternoon when he saw her get off the Lima plane in the Tingo María airport, where he and Iscariote had gone to meet her and take her back to Hog.
    â€œAsk him what happened.” Her eyes flashed and she moved her hand, pointing at the man on the floor, at him, at the man again.
    â€œShe was so angry I thought she was going to come at me and scratch my eyes out,” said the boy. His voice had sweetened.
    â€œYou killed the boss, Carreño?” The fat man was dumbfounded. “You killed him?”
    â€œYes, yes,” screamed the woman, beside herself. “And now what’s going to happen to us?”
    â€œDamn,” Fats Iscariote said over and over again, like a robot. He didn’t stop blinking.
    â€œI don’t think he’s dead,” stammered the boy. “I saw him move.”
    â€œBut why, Carreñito?” The fat man leaned over to look at the body. He straightened up immediately and stepped back in dismay. “What did he do to you? Why?”
    â€œHe was hitting her. He was going to kill her. Just for fun. I got mad, Fats, I really lost it. I couldn’t take all that shit.”
    Iscariote’s moon face turned toward him, and he scrutinized him, craning his neck as if he wanted to smell him too, even lick him. He opened his mouth but said nothing. He looked at the woman, he looked at Tomás, and sweated and panted.
    â€œAnd that’s why you killed him?” he finally said, shaking his curly head back and forth as mindlessly as one of the giant heads at Carnival.
    â€œThat’s why! That’s why!” the woman cried hysterically. “And now what’s going to happen to us, damn it!”
    â€œYou killed him for having a little fun with his whore?” Fats Iscariote’s eyes shifted back and forth in their sockets as if they were made of quicksilver. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, you poor bastard?”
    â€œI don’t know what came over me. Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. I’ll explain it to my godfather, Fats.”
    â€œStupid fucking amateur.” Iscariote held his head. “You moron. What the hell do you think men do with whores, you prick?”
    â€œThe police will come, there’ll be an investigation,” said the woman. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. I’ve got to get out of here.”
    â€œBut she couldn’t move,” the boy recalled, his honeyed voice becoming even sweeter, and Lituma thought: “You mean you’d already fallen for her, Tomasito.” “She took a few steps toward the door but stopped and came back, as if she didn’t know what to do. Poor thing, she was scared to death.”
    The boy felt Iscariote’s hand on his arm. He was looking at him regretfully, compassionately, not angry anymore. He spoke with great resolve:
    â€œYou better disappear, and don’t show your face at your godfather’s, compadre. He’ll shoot you full of holes, who knows what he’ll do. Go on, make yourself scarce, and let’s hope they don’t find you. I always knew this wasn’t the job for you. Didn’t I tell you that the first time we met?”
    â€œA real friend,” the boy explained to Lituma. “What I did could’ve gotten him in hot water, too. And still he helped me get away. A huge fat man, a face as round as a cheese, a belly like a tire. I wonder what’s happened to him?”
    He held out a plump, friendly hand. Tomás clasped it firmly. Thanks, Fats. The woman, down on one knee, was searching through the clothes of the man who lay motionless on the floor.
    â€œYou’re not telling me everything, Tomasito,” Lituma interrupted.
    â€œI don’t have a cent, I don’t know where to go,” the boy heard the woman saying to Iscariote as he went out into the warm breeze that made the shrubs and tree branches creak. “I don’t