Heart of the World Read Online Free

had started with the first knock so I knew they’d heard me.
    â€œSenora Parte,” I said clearly, “please open the door. I just want to talk.” I spoke in Spanish. Why not?
    The door opened slowly and a young woman peered out through a narrow crack. She had dark hair pulled back into a tight knot and an anxious expression on a sweet earnest face. I got the toe of my boot past the sill but didn’t force my way in.
    â€œWhat do you want?” she said. “I’m busy here.”
    I took a business card from my wallet. It said C ARLOTTA CARLYLE, P RIVATE I NVESTIGATIONS . She studied it for a long moment with her tongue fixed firmly between her small teeth and then passed it behind her.
    â€œÂ¿Polída?” It was the man's deep voice. “So sorry if we bother any of the old bitches in the apartment downstairs.”
    â€œSenor,” I said, raising my voice, “there are no complaints about you.”
    The door opened to display both of them. He was a thin wiry man with badly pocked skin.
    He said, “Then what you want? Collect for the church? They can find their own money, sell their gold candlesticks for all I care.”
    â€œSenora, your nephew, Diego, I need to speak to him.”
    The man glanced automatically down the hallway to his right. “What about?”
    â€œHe's in no trouble from me. But he hasn’t been in school the past three days.”
    â€œYou’re from the school?” “No.”
    â€œWhat you care then? The boy's sick. When he's better, he go to the school. Nosy goddamn busybodies. Time I’m his age, I work full time.” “I need to talk to him about a girl in his class.” “Hah, he do something to a girl?”
    â€œSenora,” I said to the silent woman. “Let me talk to him.” She looked stricken, like a deer in the headlights, her mouth half open.
    â€œHe's not here.” The man gave the door a push, but my foot held it ajar and I wedged myself through.
    â€œA girl in his class is missing and he may know where she is. His room's down here?”
    The single front room was sparsely furnished, ashtrays overflowing on the stained coffee table. A narrow archway led to a corridor.
    â€œDiego? You here?” I moved quickly.
    â€œI already told you—” The man moved quickly, too, edging between me and the hallway.
    â€œLook,” I said, “if he's not here, it's because he's run off with my sister, Paolina Fuentes. You know that name? If he's not here, I’m going to get in your business big time, so it's better for you if you let me see him.” I raised my voice, hoping Diego would hear.
    Behind the wiry man, in the corridor, I heard a door creak.
    â€œHey.” The voice was low and sullen.
    â€œDon’t you come out of that room!” the man thundered.
    Josefina finally moved, putting a restraining hand on the man's shoulder. I walked past him to the half-open door on the right-hand side of the hallway.
    â€œHey,” the kid said. “What's the deal?”
    I shoved the door, my eyes flicking from the unmade bed to the narrow chest of drawers. No one else inside the small room. No closet. No place to hide.
    â€œWhere is she, Diego?” I addressed the back of his lanky frame, his dirty white T-shirt and long dark hair. “Diego?”
    He turned to face me, an eruption of acne on his left cheek, but that wasn’t what I noticed first. His nose was pushed to one side of his face and his left eye was puffy and swollen. Dried blood decorated the front of his shirt.
    â€œJesus, Diego, was she with you when it happened? Where is she?” “What is this shit?”
    â€œYou were at a party Friday night, with Paolina Fuentes.”
    â€œPaolina? For a while, yeah. Then she left.” He sounded angry and puzzled. The way he stood in the doorway was stiff and unnatural, like he had bruises under his thin T-shirt, maybe broken