The San Isidro Mysteries 01: Maria del Sueño

"We all want the truth, Jefe, but Señora Ada can't see past her grief. All she wants now is to have poor Asuncion blessed and buried, and both my aunt and uncle agree with her. They believe that it is ungodly that she has been kept in this shameful state for so long."

"And what of you, Senor, what do you think?"

"I don't have an opinion on the matter, Capitan" the younger man answered, "I know that both you and Senora Ada have your reasons; she needs to see her daughter buried because she believes it will give her peace, while you are afraid that burying this mutilated body means losing the only evidence you have. I am right, am I not, Jefe?"

The Señor Capitan sighed. After an extensive search of both the field where the body was found and the Monteclaro mansion, not to mention an exhaustive questioning of the entire household, he and his men had not found anything substantial.

Lucas felt a little sorry for him. He knew that Gonzales had just been appointed chief of police in the town.

"How about the tradesmen and the farmers who were headed to market that day?" he asked.

Capitan Gonzales gave a tired smile.

"We are working on that, but it means questioning more than a hundred people, some from towns and sitios several kilometers away. And it is not easy getting them to talk, many still cling to the old ways and beliefs that becoming involved in this might mean the same thing happening to them."

Lucas nodded. He was no stranger to the old ways.

Aniceto and Sargento dela Paz entered the jefe's office to inform them that the body of Asuncion Vergara was finally loaded on the carriage, ready for the journey back to the house.

-----

It was agreed that the final blessings for Asuncion's remains by Tiya Cecilia's personal pastor would best be held at the Monteclaro chapel than at the town cathedral. There would certainly be more privacy - nosy on-lookers and lovers of the macabre - would be discouraged. Besides, the town priest had refused the use of the cathedral - he, too, believed that Asuncion Vergara's death was supernatural!

Very few were in attendance at the burial, of course. Señora Ada, Don Simon and Doña Cecilia, their son Emanuel and his wife, Maria, Lucas Regalado, Padre Domingues, Doña Cecilia's private chaplain, and a handful of the Monteclaro servants.

Capitan Gonzales was also present. The casket was sealed which did not surprise anyone in attendance. Open caskets were almost always used, the belief being that many of the mourners would want a last view of the deceased before he was laid to lie in the cold unforgiving earth, but in this case; well, the poor señorita was in no state to be viewed.

It was raining as they made their way to the public cemetery. It started as a light drizzle, but as soon as Padre Domingues finished the blessing, a huge clap of thunder was heard and the rain fell in earnest. The drops were huge, the servants later said, and that was a very bad omen - someone else would soon die!

Maria was on her way to Señora Ada's room that night, when she was stopped by her husband.

"Off to Ada's room again, Maria?" he asked, "I did not know there were two infants who needed caring here."

"The señora has difficulty sleeping, Manuel, you know that. She just wants someone beside her until she nods off."

"Can't one of the girls do it then? Why have you taken on the role of nursemaid to that old woman? You have a baby as well as a husband to take care of," Emanuel sneered.

"I have never put anyone before our daughter, nor you, Manuel," Maria answered quietly.

"Then don't start now, Maria," her husband said, as he gripped her hand.

"Let me go, Manuel. I shall gladly lie with you later but the señora needs me now."

"It has been three nights already, my love, and I, too, need you - now," he hissed in her ear.

She could smell the alcohol in his breath and she knew that what he planned to do to her would be far worse than their last coupling, the night Asuncion Vergara was killed.

In panic, she slapped him as hard as she could with her free hand.

The blow surprised Emanuel, but only for a moment; he grabbed her by the arms.

"Bravo! Such spirit! I'll have to break you all over again, my love," Emanuel said, a hateful smile on his lips, "you are a delight to tame, Maria, but you are much more desirable when you beg."

Suddenly, Emanuel Monteclaro felt something yank him from behind.

He threw a blind punch at the unseen assailant, he struck nothing but air; he tried again, flailing his arms about, hoping he would hit whoever it was holding him in a vice-like grip, the attacker eluded his fists and instead shoved him hard to the floor, Emanuel got up quickly and propelled himself against the unknown figure, but a hard blow to his stomach stopped him, he doubled over and fell to his knees.

When Maria's husband finally looked up, he saw his cousin standing over him.

"Touch her again, Manuel, and I will kill you."

Emanuel staggered to his feet and fled down the hallway, reeling in pain and too much alcohol.

Lucas turned to Maria, only to see her disappear into Señora Ada's room.

-----

It was very late when Igme and his wife finished their meager supper of bean sprout soup and boiled rice. They had talked long and hard about whether he should journey to the ciudad the next morning to sell eggs and vegetables.

The farmer was set on going. His competitor, Delfin, was not going to take the best puesto again this week.

"But it's too dangerous, Igme," Patrocinio declared, "have you already forgotten what happened to that young mestiza out there in the paddies? It was just a week ago."

The farmer brought the bowl to his lips and drank the remaining broth.

"I haven't forgotten, wife."

He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his camisa de chino, looked at the bowl and fished the last remaining bean sprout with his finger.

"Let me tell you something I haven't told anyone; I believe I heard that girl cry her last, that night. I was outside waiting for you when I heard a scream, at first I thought it was a neighbor's goat or one of those stray cats - it only lasted a moment - but I'm sure now it was her."

"Susmariosep!" his wife quickly made the sign of the cross, "why did you not say anything to the señor capitan when he summoned you the other day? If he finds out now, he'll think you had something to do with it."

"That is precisely why I said nothing, Patrocinio, we don't want to be involved in this. Besides, how can my hearing a woman scream in the dead of night help the capitan? It's best to stay out of these things."

His wife looked at him but chose to keep quiet. She stood up, took the empty bowls and plates and brought them out to wash. But later that night, as the two of them lay in their tiny bed...

"Everyone says that whoever killed the girl was not human, Igme. It's bad enough that her head cannot be found, but they also say she was violated."

The farmer laughed.

"I should be safe then, eh, Patrocinio?" he said, winking at her.

"At least take my rosary and wear your scapular. They will protect you from that - monster."

Her husband yawned.

"Alright."

VII

It was half past ten in the evening when Señor Capitan Gonzales reached home - a modest but well kept apartment near the town hall. He had elected to live in it rather than at the grander villa where the previous jefe had resided, because Andres Gonzales was a man of simple tastes.

He had climbed up the police ranks rather quickly - despite his lack of padrinos, men of obvious wealth and consequently, social importance - who often acted as patrons and godfathers to the police force, ingratiating themselves with the military, probably because their wealth was often amassed at the expense of the law.

But Capitan Gonzales was a devoted officer and a dedicated advocate of justice and had built up an outstanding record of solved cases and successful arrests, and thus had found himself promoted to a captaincy at the age of only twenty-eight.

After a quick supper, he once again opened the file of the headless body believed to be that of the young mestiza, Asuncion Vergara. He had been present that afternoon when her remains were interred in the public cemetery.

He noticed that the entire Monteclaro clan was there - which was a little odd, since he gathered that the deceased girl and her mother, Ada Vergara, were not related to the Monteclaros and were no more than mere acquaintances of Lucas Regalado, the nephew of Don Simon Monteclaro.

At first, he thought that the Monteclaros felt both guilt and an obligation to the widowed Señora Ada; after all, she and her daughter were at their estate when the young girl went missing and eventually found dead, but ordinary remorse could not explain the opulence of both the casket and tomb Asuncion Vergara was buried in.

He was already done reading the case and was closing the folder when the ream of papers slipped to the floor, Andres knelt down and started gathering the sheets, more than a little peeved at his own carelessness, when he glanced at the paper in his hand, it was a report written by the former jefe and Andres had somehow missed it before.

As he read through it, Capitan Gonzales realized that there was something strange about the most influential family of San Isidro - a servant girl had gone missing in each of the past three years while in the employ of the Monteclaros - and never heard of again!

The girls were never hired from San Isidro, so an official investigation into each of the disappearances was never brought forward.

What was even stranger was that all the girls disappeared at the same time of year - between the end of October and the start of November.

He did not need to look at the calendar posted on the opposite wall of the room to know what day it was - it was Thursday, the twenty eighth of October.

-----

The two cucheros - Julio and Illuminado - were on the main road that led back to the town. The pair of them had put their bickering behind them and had decided, in time honored tradition, to celebrate their new found peace, by drinking themselves silly.

Of course, knowing that neither one of them would be fit to drive a horse and carriage home later that night, they had elected to walk to the outskirts of San Isidro where their favorite beverage - lambanog - could be bought much cheaper. They bought several bottles and headed back to San Isidro.

"What is the latest gossip about the dead mestiza, compadre?" Illuminado asked.

"Nothing really, except that I heard she was buried today and the Monteclaros took care of all the expenses," Julio answered.

The older man nodded.

"Doña Cecilia probably persuaded her husband to foot the bill," he said.

"You have to admit, it was very generous and decent of them."

"Hah!" Illuminado interjected, "the rich are all the same, Julio. Doña Cecilia was probably ashamed that the girl was killed at their estate. It's all about saving face with the likes of the Monteclaros."

Suddenly a terrifying scream stopped their conversation!

The two men turned to where they heard the sound and found themselves looking at the same field where the body of Asuncion Vergara was discovered a week past.

Another scream pierced the night!

It seemed to come from one of the tiny farm holdings that dotted the edge of the rice field.

"Saklolo! Saklolo!"

Both men heard the cries for help. They dropped the bottles of wine and ran towards the sound.

-----

It was hours before Maria left Señora Ada's bedroom that night and it was not because of fear of her husband, Emanuel, or what he might do to her - she was more afraid of Lucas Regalado - and the growing feelings she had for him.

It was only when the ancient clock chimed midnight did she finally find the courage to leave the older woman's side. She made her way down the long corridor and straight to her daughter's nursery which adjoined her own room.

She needed to hold her baby in her arms, to feel the warmth and softness of the tiny body against her; she was the only anchor she could cling to.

She walked to the crib and lifted the infant. She cradled her child, smoothing the soft baby hair with her fingers, breathing in the sweetness that was uniquely hers.

She had no idea how long she stood in the middle of the nursery, when the door opened and Lucas stepped in.

He had known many beautiful women in his life.

Some had left quite wonderful memories, a few had scarred him badly, but he knew that there was no woman lovelier than Maria with her child in her arms.

He approached her quietly, almost tentatively; for the first time in his life, Lucas Regalado was unsure of himself.

She watched him as he crossed the room. When he reached her, he looked at the sleeping baby and smiled.

"She favors you, Maria," he whispered.

She did not answer. She held her daughter for a few more minutes, then she kissed the soft downy hair, bent down and gently returned her to the crib.

As she straightened up, Lucas held out his hand to her. She looked at it for a moment, before placing her own hand into his. She felt the gentle pressure of his grip enfold her fingers.

Wordlessly, they walked out of the nursery. She was grateful that he did not lead her into the room she shared with her husband, instead they continued down the corridor till they reached the farthest corner of the long hall where Lucas' own room was. He stopped by the door and looked at her.

"Are you sure, Maria?"

She remained quiet, but she lifted the hand that held hers and kissed the strong fingers surrounding her own.

Lucas pulled her close and lifted her chin. Bending down, he touched her soft mouth with his. He felt her hold her breath. He kissed her again, parting her lips with his own. She felt his tongue glide gently over hers.

She responded in turn, an intimate duel which left them both breathless when he finally ended the kiss. He placed his hands on her hips, gently caressing them with his fingers, moving up to her waist before finally stopping at the soft curves beneath her breasts.

Her nipples had hardened and were clearly visible through the thin material of her dress. He unbuttoned her bodice, freeing her. He ran his thumbs gently over the twin globes, a soft moan escaped her lips. He stopped and looked into her face, but all he saw was his desire reflected back in her eyes.

He bent his head down again and kissed one soft mound, laving it with his tongue, while his hand played with the other breast, teasing it with his fingers.

Maria moaned again, louder this time, he brought his head up and kissed her mouth once more. She put her arms over his neck and pulled his head closer.

"Take me, Lucas," she finally whispered against his lips.

He let her go and opened the door to his room, leading her inside.

VIII

Igme, the farmer, was feeling very proud of himself as he headed back home.

He had finally got the better of his old rival - not only had he taken the best puesto in the market away from Delfin that morning, he had even sold more vegetables and eggs than the old toad!

Now that would surely bring a smile to Patrocinio's face - she had been so preoccupied with the young mestiza found dead out in the rice fields - it would be nice to surprise her when he got home.

He had barely reached the edge of the paddy near his holding when he heard a babble of excited voices. He saw a crowd of people surrounding his tiny hut.

A sudden feeling of dread spread over him.

He found himself walking faster, soon, he was running!

His heart was pounding as he reached the bamboo fence that marked the small parcel of land Don Simon Monteclaro had loaned to him to farm; the voices of the crowd suddenly turned quiet.

He pushed past them; the faces of neighbors he knew but whose names he could not, at that moment, remember, flashed by as he hurried past the fence. He'd barely reach the steps when he was held from behind.

"Wait here with me, compadre," it was Mang Illuminado, the older of the two cucheros.

"Let me go!" the farmer pulled his arm away and once more tried to climb the steps.

Another pair of arms held him back.

"You mustn't, Igme. Stay here with us," Julio pleaded.

"Where is my wife?! What has happened to her?! What have you done to my wife?!"

There was both anger and fear in his voice.

"Patrocinio, Patrocinio!" he called out.

It was then that the Señor Capitan came out of the hut.

He quickly made his way down to where the poor farmer was angrily struggling with the two carriage drivers. A wave of pity came over Andres. He held the farmer's shoulders firmly.

"I'm sorry, old man, but she cannot come to you," he said gently.

Igme stopped struggling.

"What... what do you mean, Jefe?"

Igme could feel his knees start to shake as a terrible feeling of despair began to engulf him.

Just then, gasps and soft cries rang through the crowd; Sargento dela Paz and one of the morgue assistants came out of the small field beside Igme's hut.

They were bearing a bamboo camilla where the unmistakable shape of a body covered by a green blanket lay.

"Noooo!"

Igme cried out as his knees buckled beneath him.

"Nooo!"

-----

The news that a second woman had been found killed, spread quickly throughout the town; and this time there was more fear - the victim had been one of the ordinary folk of the town.

Patrocinio Macaraig was not young and certainly was not a fair mestiza. She and her husband Igme were, like the majority of the town population, God-fearing and hard-working Indios, whose dreams of affluence revolved around eating three times a day and making payments on the rented farmland to the landlord, who often charged more than the land was truly worth.

The couple was more fortunate than most, because Don Simon Monteclaro was kinder than the other landowners, and did not demand such a high rent, but with the cost of seedlings and animal feed as well as the constant inconsistency of the market, they could barely make both ends meet.

Now, just like the young mestiza, Patrocinio Macaraig lay on the same concrete slab in the town morgue, her remains covered by a green blanket and surrounded by slabs of ice.

But unlike Asuncion Vergara, the farmer's wife had not lost her head, she was missing her heart and liver, instead.

-----

"The señor will see you now, Jefe," Aniceto informed Capitan Gonzales as he and Sargento dela Paz sat waiting at the solárium which adjoined Don Simon's study.

Andres Gonzales saw that though Lucas Regalado was in the study with Don Simon and Doña Cecilia, Emanuel Monteclaro was not. He bowed to Don Simon's wife then held out a hand to the older gentleman.

"Don Simon, it is a pity that we must meet under these circumstances," Andres said as they shook hands. He turned to Lucas and nodded.

"I know, I know, Jefe. These are truly trying times."

Don Simon gestured to the capitan to sit.

"Perhaps Capitan Gonzales would like something cold to drink," Doña Cecilia said when they had all seated themselves around Don Simon's massive teak desk, "it has been unseasonably warm for this time of year," she added, a lacquered abanico in her left hand and a perfumed bejeweled rosary clutched in the right.

"I'm afraid I cannot, Doña Cecilia. If this were a social call, I would have gladly accepted but what I have to discuss with you and your husband may prove to be very unsettling to you both."

Andres Gonzales spoke very quietly but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his voice.

"And what is that, Jefe?" Lucas asked.

"Where were you last night, Señor Regalado?" the capitan said.