101 Mystery Stories

34 The Innocent One Evan Hunter

It was Pablo, poor bastard, who got it.

You must understand, first, that the sun was very hot on that day and Miguel had been working in it from just after dawn. He had eaten a hearty breakfast, and then had taken to the fields early, remembering what had to be done and wanting to do it quickly.

There were many rocks among the beans that day, and perhaps that is what started it all. When Miguel discovered the first rock, he reached down gingerly and tossed it over his shoulder to the rear of his neat rows of beans. The sun was still not high in the sky, and the earth had not yet begun to bake, and so a smile worked its way over his brown features as he heard the rock thud to the soft earth behind him. He started hoeing again, thinking of Maria and the night before.

He would never regret having married Maria. Ah, but she was a one! There was the passion of the tigress in her, and the energy of the rabbit. He thought again of her, straightening up abruptly, and feeling the ache in his back muscles.

That was when he saw the second rock.

He shrugged, thinking, Madre de Dios, another one!

He lifted it, threw it over his shoulder and began hoeing again. He was surprised when he came across more rocks. At first he thought someone had played a joke on him, and he pulled his black brows together, wondering who it could have been. Juan, that pig? Felipe, that animal with the slobbering lips? Pablo?

Then he remembered that it had rained the night before, and he realized that the waters had washed the soil clean, exposing the rocks, bringing them to the surface.

He cursed himself for not having thought to protect the beans in some way. Then he cursed the rocks. And since the sun was beginning to climb in the sky, he cursed that too, and got to work.

The rocks were not heavy. They were, in fact, rather small.

It was that there were very many of them. He picked them up painstakingly, tossing them over his shoulders. How could a man hoe his beans when the rows were full of rocks? He started to count them, stopping at ten because that was as far as he knew how to count, and then starting with one all over again.

The sun was very hot now. The hoe lay on the ground, the rich earth staining its long handle. He kept picking up the rocks, not looking up now, swearing softly, the sweat pouring down his neck and back. When a long shadow fell over the land before him, he almost didn’t notice it.

Then a voice joined the shadow, and Miguel straightened his back and rubbed his earth-stained fingers on his white trousers.

“You are busy, Miguel?” the voice asked. The voice came through the speaker’s nose rather than his mouth. It whined like the voice of the lamb. It was Felipe.

“No, I am not busy,” Miguel said. “I was, at this very moment, lying on my back and counting the stars in the sky.”

“But it is mornin...” Felipe started. Miguel’s subtle humour struck him then, and he slapped his thigh and commenced to guffaw like the jackass he was. “Counting the stars!” he bellowed. “Counting the stars!”

Miguel was not amused. “You were perhaps on your way somewhere, amigo. If so, don’t let me detain you.”

“I was going nowhere, Miguel,” Felipe said.

Miguel grunted and began picking up rocks again. He forgot how many tens he had counted thus far, so he started all over again.

“You are picking up rocks, Miguel?”

Miguel did not answer.

“I say you are picking up...”

“Yes!” Miguel said. “Yes, I am picking up rocks.” He stood up and kneaded the small of his back, and Felipe grinned knowingly.

“The back, it hurts, eh?”

“Yes,” Miguel said He looked at Felipe. “Why do you nod?”

“Me? Nod? Who me?”

“Yes, you. Why do you stand there and nod your head like the wise snake who has swallowed the young chicken?”

Felipe grinned and nodded his head. “You must be mistaken, Miguel. I do not nod.”

“I am not blind, amigo,” Miguel said testily. “I say my back hurts, and you begin to nod your head. Why? Is it funny that my back hurts? Is it funny that there are rocks and stones among my beans?”

“No, Miguel. It is not funny.”

“Then why do you nod?”

Felipe grinned. “Maria, eh?”

Miguel clenched his fists. “What about Maria, amigo? Maria who is my wife.”

Felipe opened his eyes innocently. “Nothing, Miguel, nothing. Just... Maria.”

“You refer to my back?”

“Si.”

“And you connect this somehow with Maria?”

“Si.”

“How?”

“This Maria... your wife, God bless her... she is a strong one, eh, Miguel?”

Miguel was beginning to get a little angry. He was not used to discussing his wife among the beans. “So? What do you mean she is a strong one?”

“You know. Much passion. Like the tigress.”

“How do you know tins?”

Felipe grinned. “It is known, Miguel.”

Miguel’s lips tightened into a narrow line. “How is it known?”

“I must go to town, Miguel,” Felipe said hastily. “I see you soon.”

“Just a moment. Felipe. How is it...”

“Good-bye, amigo.”

Felipe turned his back, and Miguel stared at him as he walked towards the road. The dust rose about him, and he waved back at Miguel. Miguel did not return the wave. He stood there with the strong sun on his head, and the many rocks and stones at his feet.

How did this animal with the slobbering lips know of Maria’s passion? Surely be had never spoken a word about it to any of the men. Then how did Felipe know?

The possibilites annoyed Miguel. He turned back to the rocks, and tins time they seemed heavier, and the sun seemed stronger, and his back seemed to ache more.

How did Felipe know?

He was pondering tins in an ill-temper when Juan came to stand beside him. Juan was darkly handsome, his white trousers and shirt bright in the powerful sunlight. Miguel looked up at him sourly and said, “So? Do you wish to pass the time with idle chatter also?”

Juan smiled, his teeth even and white against the ruddy brown of his face. “Did I offend you, Miguel?”

“No!” Miguel snapped.

“Then why do you leap at me like a tiger?”

“Do not mention this animal to me,” Miguel said.

“No?”

“No! I have rocks to clear, and I want to clear them before lunch because Maria will be calling me then.”

“Ahhh,” Juan said, grinning.

Miguel stared at him for a moment. The grin was the same one Felipe had worn, except that Felipe was ugly and with slobbering lips — and Juan was perhaps the handsomest man in the village.

Miguel stared at him and wondered if it had been he who had told Felipe of Maria’s great passion. And if so, how had Juan known?

“Why do you ‘ahhhhh’?” he asked.

“Did I ‘ahhhhh’?”

“You did. You did indeed. You made this very sound. Why?”

“I was not aware, amigo.” Juan smiled again.

“Was it mention of lunch that evoked this sigh?”

“No. No, I do not think so.”

“Then there remains only Maria.”

Juan grinned and said nothing.

“I said...”

“I heard you, Miguel.”

“What about Maria?”

Juan shrugged. “Who said anything about Maria?”

“You are saving it with your eyes,” Miguel said heatedly. “What about her?”

“She is your wife, Miguel.”

“I know she is my wife. I sleep with her, I...”

Juan was grinning again.

“What’s funny about that, Juan? Why do you grin now?”

“I have nothing to say, amigo. Maria is your wife. God bless her.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means... well, God bless to. She is a remarkable woman.”

“How would you know?” Miguel shouted.

“That she is a remarkable woman? Why, Miguel...”

“You know what I mean! Why is my wife the sudden topic of conversation for the whole village? What is going on? Why do you all discuss her so intimately? What...”

“Intimately?”

“Yes! By God, Juan, if there is something...”

Juan smiled again. “But there is nothing, Miguel. Nothing.”

“You are sure?”

“I must go to town now, my friend. Is there anything I can do there for you?”

“No!” Miguel snapped.

“Then, adios, amigo.”

He turned and walked off, shaking his head, and Miguel could have sworn he heard him mutter the word “tigress.”

He went to work on the rocks with a fury. What was all this? Why Felipe? And now Juan?

What was going on with his wife?

He thought of her passion, her gleaming black hair, the way it trailed down the curve of her back, reaching her waist. He thought of the fluid muscles on that back, beneath the soft, firm skin. He thought of the long, graceful curve of her legs, the way the firelight played on her lifted breasts.

Too passionate, he thought. Far too passionate.

Far too passionate for one man. Far too passionate for simple Miguel who worked in the fields picking stones and hoeing beans. Yes, she was a woman who needed many men — many, many men.

Was that why Felipe had laughed with his dripping lips? Was that why Juan had smiled that superior, handsome smile? Miguel picked up his hoe and swung it at a large rock. The rock chipped, but it did not budge from the earth.

Was that it? Was Maria then making a cuckold of her simple Miguel? Was that why all the men in the village were snickering, smiling, laughing behind their hands? Or was it only the men from this village? Was it the adjoining village, too? Or did it go beyond that?

Did they pass her from hand to hand like a used wine-jug? Did they all drink of her, and was that why they laughed at Miguel now? Was that why they laughed behind their hands, laughed aloud with their mouths and their eyes?

The sun was hot, and the bowels of the earth stank, and the rocks and stones were plentiful, and Miguel chopped at them with the hoe, using the sharp blade like an axe.

I will show them, he thought. I will teach them to laugh! I will teach them to make the fool of Miguel de la Piaz!

It was then that Pablo strolled by. He had passed Miguel’s house, and Maria had asked him to call her husband home for lunch. He was not a bright lad, Pablo. He walked up close to Miguel, who furiously pounded the earth with his hoe, using it like an axe, the sharp blade striking sparks from the rocks. He tapped Miguel on the shoulder, smiled, and started to say, “Maria...”

Miguel whirled like an animal, the hoe raised high.

So you see, it was Pablo, poor bastard, who got it.