‘If you weren’t Guillermo’s friend I’d open you up. But don’t get the idea I’m your friend. To me you’re just a stupid fucking gringo who doesn’t know his ass.’
Canelo stepped away and Snow, hearing another snick, turned to see him pocketing a butterfly knife.
‘You want to know who I think killed Guillermo?’ Canelo asked. ‘It was you. You didn’t cut him, but he died because of you.’
‘That’s crazy,’ said Snow.
‘You don’t understand where you are, man. None of you fucks have a clue. You go blundering about, thinking you can solve any problem because you’re superior to the pitiful, fuckedup Temalaguans, but all you do is make more trouble for us.’
‘I think it was the PVO,’ Snow said weakly.
‘Maybe. It might have been political. The PVO could have done it, or some other political party. See, what you don’t seem to understand is that in order to stay in business Guillermo had to be an informer. All these bitches with their bigshot husbands coming around . . . the husbands asked him questions. He tried to be cool. He’d give them some information, nothing serious, enough maybe that someone would get slapped around now and then. But nothing more. He didn’t want anyone to get their head chopped because of him. He walked a fine line. But when you started asking about La Endriaga the line got even finer. He should have handed you over. We tried to tell him, we said if you give up the gringo the pressure will ease off, but he wanted to protect you. “He’s my friend,” he’d say. “I’m not going to betray a friendship.”’
‘He should have told me!’ said Snow. ‘If he’d told me about his predicament, how bad things were . . .’
‘Get real, man. Think about it. He warned you constantly. You simply didn’t want to listen.’
‘He didn’t tell me the whole story. I never understood . . . he never conveyed to me how serious it was.’
‘Maybe he thought you were smart enough to fill in the blanks. Or maybe he believed you were as much a friend to him as he was to you. Maybe he thought you respected him and actually paid attention to what he said. Big mistake, huh?’
Snow stood mute, absorbing what Canelo had told him.
‘It was casual with you,’ Canelo said. ‘You thought it was cool to have a fag who owned a night club for a friend.’
‘That’s not how it was!’
‘Sure it is. You’re like a half-ass method actor, man. One who almost buys into his character, but can’t quite get there.’ Canelo gestured at the door. ‘Get the fuck out.’
Snow balked at leaving. ‘It’s not like you say. Maybe I’ve made some missteps, but I . . .’
‘Maybe? Fuck!’ Canelo’s scorn was a physical force. ‘Nobody cares how you see the situation. Your viewpoint doesn’t mean dick. Now beat it! If I were you I’d leave the country. Guillermo wasn’t good with pain. He probably ratted you out when they tortured him. Even if he didn’t, I’m getting an urge to tell the next cop who comes in that you were talking shit about the PVO. I’m not kidding. Nothing’s stopping me and I may not be able to resist the temptation.’
Following his set-to with Canelo, Snow returned to his apartment and packed his bags, shaken by what the bartender had told him and frightened not just by his threat, but by the world of threat, a world of maniacs and bloody politics of which he had, of course, been aware, yet never thought would menace him. He intended to catch the first plane north, wherever it was bound, but as he waited for the taxi and afterward, on the way to the airport, his guilt concerning Guillermo elbowed his paranoia aside and he wished for some way he could make a stab at redemption. He had nary a clue of how to go about this, but perhaps fate conspired to assist him, for on reaching the ticket counter he discovered that the destination of the first available flight was Miami – that provided the platform for the germ of an idea. An hour later, en route to that city of second-rate glitterati and leathery, sun-dried MILFs, he debated whether or not it was worth the risk and concluded that he could safely take a first step and pull back if things went badly. And so, upon landing in Miami on a humid Wednesday afternoon, Snow rented a cheap motel room in Coral Gables and prepared to initiate an affair with Luisa Bazan.
