The San Isidro Mysteries 01: Maria del Sueño

"I was here."

"Yes, he was, Capitan, he and I played chess till quite late. Even my mayor-domo can vouch for that," Don Simon interjected.

"And where was your son, Emanuel?" Gonzales suddenly asked.

Don Simon looked at his wife, it was clear that both were surprised by the question.

"He must have been upstairs in his room, with his wife, Maria, or in the nursery," Don Simon answered.

"But did you actually see him at all last evening, Don Simon?"

"Well, we had supper together," Don Simon reluctantly answered.

"And after supper, Don Simon? Did you see him after supper and what about this morning, has anyone seen him at all today?"

"Just what is this all about, Gonzales?" Lucas Regalado asked.

"I'm sure you have heard that another woman was killed last night or early this morning, probably before dawn. Patrocinio Macaraig was hacked to death near her hut and her heart and liver taken."

"Dios mio!"

Doña Cecilia exclaimed, crossing herself with the rosary and fanning herself even harder with the fan, sending the fragrance of sandalwood wafting around the room.

"Her husband happens to be one of your tenant farmers, Don Simon. Are you familiar with Igmidio Macaraig?"

"I can't say that I am, Capitan, I have dozens of tenants farming the land."

Gonzales nodded.

"I know you cannot be expected to know all of your tenants personally, Don Simon. But your son certainly knew them better, since he often took payment for the rent, yes?"

"Well, Emanuel has taken on a lot of what I used to do, Jefe."

"That may well be. But last night, two carriage drivers heard Patrocinio's cries for help. They ran to the hut and saw a figure running away, he was tall and well-dressed."

"That description could fit quite a number of San Isidro's Illustrados," Lucas said.

"Yes, but the two men also said he was wearing spurred riding boots, and there is only one man in San Isidro who wears those."

Gonzales turned to Don Simon, "your son, Emanuel."

IX

Sargento dela Paz followed Capitan Gonzales as the two of them led a small group of men across the rice field where, in the past week, two mutilated corpses had been found. It was so strange that despite what had happened, the farmers would soon be sowing the paddies with young rice - life always went on, regardless.

As they hiked past the field and on to the twin hills that bordered San Isidro, dela Paz could only hope that this search would be more fruitful than the one they had conducted at the Monteclaro estate.

Looking for Emanuel, Don Simon's son - and now the only suspect in the hideous killings of Asuncion Vergara and Patrocinio Macaraig - was turning out to be another strange aspect of the whole mystery.

"What drove him to killing the women?" he wondered, and even worse, grotesquely removing parts of their bodies?

The sargento shuddered as he remembered the corpse of Patrocinio, the sight of her innards spilling out from her abdomen frightened him more than the headless body of the younger mestiza.

It was very probable that Emanuel Monteclaro, if he were guilty, had been possessed by some demon.

"Are you sure this was where you saw him run?" Gonzales asked the two carriage drivers, Julio and Illuminado.

"Yes, Capitan" Julio answered, "we were running up the hut's steps when we heard a noise from the back of Igme's hut. I doubled back there and saw the man running across the field - and he was fast, Jefe, by the time I ran out the bamboo fence of Igme's hut, he was halfway across the paddies and was heading for the hills."

"If he were that fast, Julio, how could you have seen those riding boots you said he was wearing?" dela Paz said.

"We heard the spurs as he ran out into the paddies, they made quite a noise," countered the older Illuminado.

"Hearing something and seeing something are two different things," dela Paz said.

"Come on, Sargento, everyone in town is familiar with the sound of Señor Emanuel's spurs," Illuminado said.

Julio nodded.

"Especially those of us who have been on the receiving end of those riding boots."

"What do you mean?" the capitan asked.

The three men looked at each other. It was the sargento who finally answered.

"Don Simon is well liked in the community, Jefe, he's always been a fair man, but Emanuel - not as much - he has been known to lose his temper... sometimes."

"Just sometimes, Sargento?" the capitan said.

"Quite a lot, Jefe," both Julio and Illuminado spoke up.

"And what does he do when he loses his temper?"

"Several things," Illuminado continued, "he'll beat up anyone when he doesn't get what he wants and he's fond of using his whip, just to prove a point."

"But what he likes best is kicking those who get in his way with those riding boots," Julio said.

Gonzales looked at the sargento. Dela Paz nodded.

-----

Maria could feel Lucas' eyes on her as she sat across from him in the sala later that night, sewing a tiny bib for her daughter.

The Monteclaro house had been quiet the whole day, barely a word was spoken as the gravity of Señor Emanuel's situation lay heavily on everyone, especially his parents, Don Simon and Doña Cecilia. Even the servants talked in hushed whispers.

Maria knew that she, too, was thought to be worried about her husband's whereabouts and his involvement with the gruesome murders and she was, to a certain degree.

Emanuel was her husband, the father of her infant girl, but to feign almost hysterical concern was something she could not even pretend to do. Fortunately, the whole household mistook her silence for despair.

When the old clock chimed the ninth hour, she folded the bib and placed the needles and thread back into the small sewing box. She stood up, took Don Simon's hand and lifted it to her forehead.

"Goodnight, Papá," she said.

"Goodnight, hija," Simon answered, "I hope it's not too much to ask but do you think you could also take a look at your Mamá before going to bed, just to see how she is?"

"Of course," she answered.

She turned to leave and realized that Lucas had left the room. She could not explain why she suddenly felt abandoned.

Maria climbed the long staircase and headed to Doña Cecilia's room.

Señora Ada had finally left that afternoon; a woman who was about her age and who introduced herself as Fely, Ada's sister, had arrived after midday.

"I'll be taking my sister back to San Carlos," she said, after Ada's things had been loaded into the hired calesa, "I know it will never be enough, but thank you for all you've done for her, and for Asuncion," she made the sign of the cross when she mentioned the poor girl's name, "I told them not to go, you know, that business with the priest would soon be forgotten, but Ada and my niece, they had their heads up in the clouds," she sighed heavily, "good-bye, Señores."

Maria's last vision of Ada Vergara was as she sat at the back of the carriage, a look of sad confusion on her tired face.

She peered into Doña Cecilia's room. The older woman was fast asleep, helped, no doubt, by the sedative the doctor had administered earlier that day.

She closed the door and made her way to her bedroom. She had moved her baby's crib there when she was told that Emanuel had gone missing.

Her hand was on the ornate door handle when she was caught and turned around.

"What have I done that you will not even look at me?" Lucas Regalado whispered.

She looked up into his face and saw the doubt in his eyes. She lifted her hand and gently touched his cheek.

"It is not what you have done, but what I have done, Lucas, Emanuel is missing because... because I have sinned."

"My cousin is missing because he chose to go out in the middle of the night drunk, Maria, and how can love be a sin? If it is so, then we have sinned together."

"Love," she said the word softly.

How many times in the past had she searched for it and dreamt of what it meant?

She had yearned for her father's love, but it had been cruelly withheld.

She had sought it in the arms and bed of a husband who could only offer lust and debasement.

Was what Lucas offered finally love?

She reached once again for the door handle and holding Lucas' hand, led him inside.

"Sin with me again, Lucas," she said as they entered.

X

Maria woke before sunrise. Through her large bedroom window, she saw that it was still dark, and the edge where sky and earth met was not yet lit.

She remembered her father's old gardener, Kiko, telling her that that was where the earth goddess and the sky king had fallen in love and since they could never be together, the two immortals vowed that they would always meet and kiss every morning at that special place which all could see but where no one had ever been.

Dear Kiko, he was the only kind soul she had known throughout her lonely childhood. His wife, Naring, had been more efficient than warm, perhaps because the elderly servant had been totally devoted to Elena, Maria's mother, that there was simply no room left for other loyalties; but Kiko was the only one who cared enough to listen to the young Maria, the only one she could talk to, the only person who made the little girl feel she was worth something.

She recalled an incident when the old gardener had arrived at the school to bring her home, only to find her in tears because the other girls in her class had refused to include her in their games.

"And they were silly games, Kiko," she told him, as they walked home, "pretending to cook rice in tiny clay pots, the size of a teacup," she scoffed.

Kiko nodded.

"And I'm sure that the red clay the pots were made of, wasn't even fired properly. They were probably baked all bent and misshapen, yes?"

The little girl nodded.

"I wish I'd been born a boy, Kiko," she suddenly said, "the boys in school always get to do what they want and I'm sure Father would have loved me if I were one, too."

Kiko stopped in the middle of the dry, dusty road that led home. He let go of the small hand he was holding and knelt in front of Maria.

"Remember this, Maria. Someday, all this will not matter, those girls in your school, even your father... someday a man will love you so much that he will fall on his knees and thank Heaven you were born a girl."

Maria felt the soft brush of a finger on her nape. It was followed by an equally tender kiss. She turned to look into Lucas' dark eyes.

"I was afraid you would not be beside me again when I awoke," Lucas whispered, "you left me quite desolate yesterday morning."

"I thought it best to leave your room before anyone was up, I did not know it would matter that much to you," she said quietly, "forgive me, dearest."

She reached up and kissed his mouth.

Lucas held her head and parted her lips with his. His tongue met hers in a delicate pas de deux, gently swooping down and caressing the base, then gliding over and over around her mouth. Muffled moans of delight escaped from Maria lips.

Lucas broke the kiss, only to slide down her neck, leaving a trail of hot moist kisses down to her breasts. He took one pebble-hard nipple gently between his teeth, running his tongue around it before suckling her; he did the same to her other breast. Her body arced in mindless response - she thrust herself up towards him, all the while running her hands over his naked back.

Maria bit her lips, desperate to keep her groans and growing desire in check. But it was a losing battle. Lucas moved and gripped her hips. He lifted her body and gently ran his tongue over her sensitive navel, bathing it with the wetness of his mouth. He stopped and looked at her face intently, a question in his dark eyes.

In answer, Maria parted her thighs and offered herself wholly to him. He tenderly touched the lips of her womanhood with his fingers sending frissons of heat coursing through her. He continued caressing her there, driving her almost mad with desire and when she thought she could not bear it, he bent down and kissed the nether lips.

Maria gasped, her body twisting in sweet pain, soon he was licking her, his tongue reaching places she had never known would give her so much pleasure. She moved her body in time to his ministrations, gripping the sheets as the inevitable climax claimed her. Her body rose as waves of exquisite agony ran through her.

But Lucas was not finished. He stretched himself over her nakedness and kissed her forehead. He moved again, placing his hips between her parted legs. He held her thighs, lifting them to wrap her legs around his hips. With one hand around her waist and the other under her neck, he started to thrust into her. He started gently, entering her slowly, but when Maria responded, clasping her arms around him and thrusting her body into his, his movements became faster and harder.

It was a primal dance, as old as time itself; they moved in unison, the heat and desire in the room centering where their entwined bodies touched. They cried in shared climax, their bodies shuddering in mutual satiation, glistening beads of sweat trickling down them.

Outside the window, the sky began to lighten.

-----

Capitan Gonzales and his group finally reached the top of the second and higher hill which overlooked the rice paddies on the south side and a high walled enclosure on the north. It was the second day of their trek and so far, they had not found anything out in the paddies.

"Go through everything... plants, bushes, grass... everything," he ordered, "call me or dela Paz when you come across anything that looks, feels or even smells out of place here."

The sargento and the two cucheros started hunting in the thick underbrush.

"Masukal, compadre," Julio complained, hacking at the thick undergrowth with his bolo, "and most of them have sharp thorns!"

"Cuidao!"

Gonzales called out as Illuminado yelped. He held up his hand, a long thorn sticking out from his thumb.

"It's just a thorn, Illuminado," dela Paz called out as the old carriage driver pulled the thorn out and began sucking his thumb.

"Hah!" Julio laughed, "I always knew you were starting your second childhood, compadre."

Illuminado joined in the laughter, but suddenly stopped as his gaze fell on something that did not belong on the highest hilltop just outside San Isidro.

"Look here, Capitan!" he called out.

Gonzales approached the spot Illuminado was pointing at.

There, nestled in the thick wild grass, was a rosary.

He knelt, gingerly picked it up with the point of his knife and slowly lifted it.

"That is no ordinary rosary, Jefe," dela Paz said, eyeing the small jewels that surrounded the crucifix hanging at the end of the beads.

"No, no it is not, Sargento," the capitan answered, he knew he had seen one very much like it before.

He sniffed the rosary, a strong fragrance stung his nose - sandalwood!

"Now, who would own an expensive bejeweled rosary like that?" Illuminado asked.

"A rosary is something Emanuel Monteclaro would not be carrying around," Julio added.

Gonzales remained silent, he remembered where he had seen a similar rosary that also had the fragrance of sandalwood, Doña Cecilia was holding it as they sat in the study of the Monteclaro mansion.

-----

The ancient clock in the hallway chimed the tenth hour of the morning.

Maria made her way to her room, it was time to feed her baby. Lucas and Aniceto had left after breakfast to try and catch up with the señor capitan's party in the search for Emanuel - Doña Cecilia had insisted that it would be in her son's best interest if a kin were present when he was found. Even Don Simon had gone out alone to try and find him.

As she approached her bedroom, Maria noticed that the door was open. Thinking that her baby's nanny had returned, she stepped into the room to find her daughter in the arms of Doña Cecilia.

It was the first time her mother-in-law had touched her infant daughter, which was not a surprise; Cecilia, though unfailingly gracious, had always seemed aloof and a little remote, but now - now, there was a strange, almost hungry look in her eyes, as she stared at the baby's face.

A tiny ball of fear started to knot in Maria's stomach.

"Mamá, what a surprise," she kept her voice calm.

She approached the older woman, unbuttoning her bodice, hoping the gesture would embarrass Doña Cecilia enough to leave.

Cecilia smiled at her. She handed the child over to Maria willingly, but instead of leaving, she sat on the edge of the bed.

"My granddaughter has the Monteclaro look," she said quietly when the baby started to suckle, "I had a daughter once, did you know that, Maria?"

Maria did not. She had always thought that Emanuel was an only child.

"No, Mamá, Manuel never said anything about that. What happened to her?"

Cecilia stood up and went to the large window. It was several moments before she spoke again.

"She was lost to Simon and me. It happened years ago, when we were still in Capiz," there was genuine pain in her voice, "the loss of a child is unbearable pain, hija, I survived one but I do not think I have the strength to go through it again."

She suddenly crossed back to where Maria sat on the old rocking chair and knelt in front of it. The strange hungry look was in her eyes again.

"Which is why I am here, Maria. I know where my son is. He has sent word to me. He needs our help, he needs you!"

XI

It was past three in the afternoon. Julio was napping and dreaming - about the beautiful young women he had seen in an old copy of McCall's, and some of them were in their underclothes!

It was clearly a sin to be photographed in such a manner - the parish priest of San Isidro would certainly call them 'Jezebels' and any one, man or woman, looking at these pictures would also be labeled sinners.

Julio sighed in his sleep. He was, no doubt, guilty, but he saw nothing wrong in enjoying himself; the women seemed to be calling to him now, one was even tickling his neck.

"Aagh!" he woke with a start.

A pony was placidly chewing the grass, right beside his head. Julio jumped up and started wiping horse drool from his neck with the edge of his well-worn shirt.

The other men began to stir.

Gonzales opened his eyes and found himself looking at Lucas Regalado, sitting on a small out-crop beside him.

"Magandang hapon," Lucas smiled, greeting the capitan in the language the Indios used when conversing amongst themselves.

Andres Gonzales sat up, shaking his head; he was not too sure about the afternoon being that good, he did not like being watched while he slept.

Lucas noticed the capitan's discomfort.

"Don't be embarrassed, Jefe, the siesta, is important, it re-energizes one's flagging strength. It is just as popular back in Spain."

The Señor Capitan donned his cap and stood up.

"I was not expecting you and your man quite so soon," he answered, nodding towards Aniceto who was sitting beside two tethered ponies.

Lucas smiled.

"You are new to the town, Capitan. There is another route to these hills, a short cut found on the north side."

Andres nodded.

"I'll remember that next time," he muttered.

"The next time?" Lucas asked.

"The next time I go looking for a Monteclaro," Gonzales replied, under his breath.

-----

"Where is he, Mamá?" Maria asked as she followed her mother-in-law down the staircase.

"He is close by, hija," Doña Cecilia answered, "but we must wait for word from him again before it is safe to go. Manuel was never good at explanations. Be patient a little while more and soon you will be with your husband," she added, taking her daughter-in-law's hand.

Maria wanted to say that Emanuel had never been a husband to her. He had given her the Monteclaro name, and fathered her daughter, but that was all; after the years of cruel brutality, he did not deserve to be called husband.