The San Isidro Mysteries 01: Maria del Sueño

She said nothing, however. She had never thought that her mother-in-law cared so deeply for Emanuel, but from what she had just witnessed, she had been terribly wrong, Cecilia was clearly worried. Instead, she gently squeezed the older woman's hand.

"Alright, Mamá, we will wait."

-----

Lucas stopped hacking the thick underbrush with his bolo. It was at least two hours since he and Aniceto had caught up with the group led by Capitan Gonzales.

The jefe believed that evidence might be found amongst the grass, bushes and small trees that covered the hillside, clues that could lead them to the whereabouts of the hideous killer, or at least, help lead to his (or its) identity.

Lucas wiped the sweat dripping from his brow, then bent down and started swinging at the long grass with the sharp blade; he did not know about the jeweled rosary that was now in the pocket of the Señor Capitan.

"We'd better stop, Capitan," he said a few minutes later, "the sun is going down. It will be dangerous cutting the grass with our bolos, it's too dark to see anything."

Gonzales nodded, Lucas was right, but he had hoped to find at least one more bit of evidence to pair with the rosary they had found earlier.

He felt that if confronted with a substantial amount of evidence, Lucas Regalado might be more forthcoming about his young cousin's whereabouts. He placed his sword in its sheath and walked to the small encampment his men had put up.

"Fresh water, Jefe?"

Aniceto offered the capitan a flask.

"Salamat," he answered, taking the flask and gulping down the cool liquid.

Lucas ordered the mayor-domo to unload the provisions they had brought.

Julio nudged his kumpadre, as Aniceto opened the buri bag one pony was carrying, the aroma of food wafted across the camp. The mayor-domo unwrapped a large bundle of bound banana leaves containing cooked rice, then another of cooked meats.

"We're eating well tonight," the younger cuchero whispered.

Night had fallen when Lucas was approached by the jefe.

"Muchas gracias, señor, for the food and water. I must admit that we brought very little when we set out yesterday," Gonzales said as he sat down beside Don Simon's nephew.

Lucas nodded.

"Regalado," the capitan said softly, "why is your name Regalado when your father and Don Simon were brothers?"

"It's quite a long story," Lucas said.

"It's a long night," Andres Gonzales answered.

Lucas nodded again.

"It is not a secret, but not many are aware of it," he continued, "my mother was a Regalado and the lone heiress to her family's fortune."

"Wealth married wealth," the capitan observed.

"You can say that, but in their case, it was true love, Gonzales. I remember as a child, seeing my father's eyes lighting up whenever my mother came into the room, witnessing the shy loving look she would cast upon him when he was not looking. Though it was a tragedy and a pain I would not wish even on my greatest enemy, their dying together in the carriage accident was a blessing - one would never have survived without the other."

Lucas' voice had gone soft.

"No, I suppose not, such a love would be difficult to find again," Andres said.

"As for the Regalado name - it was deemed expedient to call me that, to avoid the less desirable members of my mother's family from claiming the inheritance."

"I see," the capitan said, "forgive me, but why, then, was Simon not given anything when your parents died? There was more than enough wealth to go around."

"I believe that was my grandparents' old will, Capitan, and I know my father was in the process of writing out a new one when the accident happened. I was ashamed when I found out the truth, which is why I gave Tiyo Simon a corn farm in the south."

Where in the south is this farm, Lucas?"

"Capiz, Capitan. He managed it quite successfully, too."

"So why have they taken up residence back here in San Isidro?"

Lucas looked at the night sky.

"It seems tragedy follows the Monteclaros wherever they live. My cousin is not an only child, Gonzales. He had a younger sister, Katrina. She was so full of life, bright and curious as only the youth can be, we all loved her, but she, too, died in an accident; I was there when it happened.

She adored Emanuel, her kuyang, loved tailing him around the farm, imitating him when he did some of the chores. She followed him out into the field one day. Tiyo Simon had just bought one of those new machines - a thresher, I think it was called - and Emanuel, newly seventeen, was eager to try it out.

He stopped before noon and went back to the house, but Katrina did not follow him. To this day, my cousin swears he turned the machine off, but whether he did or did not, does not matter.

Perhaps Katrina herself boarded the thresher and somehow managed to start it, however it happened, she fell in its path when it moved. She was mutilated, Jefe. Everything and everyone changed after that. They could not go on living in that farm, so I offered them the estate here in San Isidro."

"You have been more than generous to them," Andres replied.

Lucas smiled rather sadly.

"One can say that I had a hand in Katrina's death, I wanted to talk with Manuel that day about the coming harvest, that was why he was in a hurry to finish up."

He sighed heavily.

"I am seldom here in San Isidro, anyway, at least I am sure the estate is well looked after."

It was clear that it had been difficult for Lucas Regalado to talk of the past, he had had to relive all the pain and the guilt, as well.

"I do not think you are to blame for anything, Lucas. Carrying that kind of guilt stops one from truly living. You should not hold on to it. You cannot keep holding yourself responsible for your uncle and his family, you deserve a life of your own, we all do."

Lucas looked at Andres.

"Perhaps you are right, Capitan."

-----

Maria had her baby in her arms when she heard a soft knocking; she placed the infant back in the crib and hurried to the door.

Doña Cecilia stood outside. She smiled at her daughter-in-law.

"I have had word from Manuel, hija, he is safe but we must go to him now. I have already called the nanny to watch over the child tonight. Follow me downstairs. Hurry, Maria!"

XII

It was several moments before Capitan Gonzales spoke. Lucas Regalado had told him far more than he had expected. But there was still one more thing he needed to know.

"You said everyone changed after your cousin died, Lucas, and I cannot imagine a more painful tragedy for a parent - to have a child die before you. It must have been especially difficult for your aunt, Doña Cecilia."

Lucas did not answer right away.

"She immersed herself in religion, Jefe," he finally said, "I am sure you noticed the statues and icons at the house."

Gonzales nodded.

"Tiya Cecilia believes that religion is the answer to everything."

A few feet away from them, Aniceto was tidying up the remnants of supper.

Julio and Illuminado could only wonder at the fastidiousness of the Monteclaros' mayor-domo; even out here on the hillsides outside San Isidro, the man-servant was carefully stowing away the utensils and flasks which the small group had used, but when he began to carefully fold the used banana leaves, the older cuchero could no longer keep quiet.

"Hey, compadre, that's basura already, you can throw it down the hillside!" Illuminado called out.

The mayor-domo looked at the pair of carriage drivers, then he looked at the bundle of banana leaves he held in his hands.

Doña Cecilia would throw a fit if she ever found out, but it would mean one less chore he would have to do back at the house - he did not like burning garbage.

He shrugged, marched to the hillside and threw the leaves down the cliff.

The cucheros smiled and clapped their hands, approvingly.

"Do you smoke, kumpadre?" Julio asked Aniceto when the mayor-domo sat down beside them.

"No, Doña Cecilia doesn't like the smell of smoke. She absolutely will not have any kind of cigarillo in the house."

"That's too bad," Illuminado countered, "My friend here has a few sticks of the best in his pocket right now."

Julio quickly produced two rolled Tres Coronas.

After lighting them with a matchstick, he handed one to Illuminado.

They settled back on the boulder they were sitting on, puffing contentedly.

"I suppose you don't drink either, eh, Aniceto?" the older man said.

The mayor domo shook his head.

"So what do you do in your free time?" Julio piped in.

Aniceto looked down sheepishly,

"I... I'm learning how to read and write, so I practice when I'm done with the chores."

The two men nodded, seemingly impressed.

"Is that all you do?" Julio prodded.

"Well, when I remember to, I pray the rosary," he said, pulling the string of beads from his pocket.

The two carriage drivers blinked; if not for the absence of the jewels on the crucifix, Aniceto's rosary was an exact twin of the one they had found in the grass that day.

-----

Emanuel Monteclaro shook his head, his eyes could not focus clearly, everything around him was a blur. He pushed himself upright, but his knees were weak, he swayed unsteadily on his feet.

"I must still be drunk," he muttered to himself, but when he tried to walk, he was jerked back. He tried to lift his hands to his throbbing head as the room started to spin. It was then that he realized - he was chained to the wall!

Emanuel felt the bile rise in his throat as confusion and nausea gripped him. He moaned in pain.

"Forgive me, Señor Emanuel, it seems I underestimated the potency of the drug I gave you," a soft deep voice beside him said.

-----

After weeping for two days, Igmidio Macaraig decided that he would find Emanuel Monteclaro, the man who killed his wife.

For more than a day, he hid amongst the trees outside the Monteclaro estate, not eating, not sleeping, just staring at the elaborate gate and taking note of who entered and left.

But no one suspicious went in or out, until Don Simon Monteclaro himself appeared, riding a large horse.

Igme recognized the beast, it was the same animal Emanuel Monteclaro used whenever he came around to collect the monthly rent all the tenant farmers had to pay. It was his favorite mount, the young man had mentioned to the farmer as he came by to collect the money.

Igme watched as Don Simon exited the gates of the estate and headed towards the main road that led to town.

The farmer came out of his hiding place and untethered the small pony he had borrowed from Julio, but did not follow the old gentleman; he knew a shorter route to San Isidro.

He reached the town a little before Don Simon. For several hours, he followed the head of the Monteclaro family as the older man went around the town; first the church, then the market stalls and finally La Dulcinea - the most expensive tavern in the ciudad.

Simon stayed there for several hours, talking to some of his cronies who were present. The man ate very little and drank only a pint of the cerveza negra the tavern was famous for.

By the time sunset came and Igme was thinking he had wasted his time, Simon Monteclaro finally paid the bill and stood up.

"I'd better be going home, compadres, adios!"

"I hope you find Emanuel," one of the men called out.

Don Simon smiled weakly, nodded and left the tavern.

He mounted the horse and once again took the road that led back to the estate.

Igme got on the pony but led the animal across the rice paddies, making sure that Don Simon would not see him; it was fortuitous that it was already late in the year, the paddies had been harvested weeks ago and were not as muddy.

The farmer made sure that Don Simon and his horse were in sight as his pony trotted across the huge field.

Suddenly, midway between San Isidro and the Monteclaro estate, Don Simon turned away from the road. Igme followed.

It did not take long for the farmer to realize just where they were heading: the back of the huge Monteclaro estate.

He reined in the small pony, dismounted and crouched down behind a nearby tree.

Don Simon, too, stopped the stallion, got off and opened a small gate cut into the high adobe fence that circled the mansion and entered, leading the large beast inside.

Igme waited before creeping towards the gate. He eyed the high wall; somewhere inside, lurked the monster who had cruelly killed Patrocinio, of that he was sure. He had to get in!

-----

Don Simon gazed up at the darkening sky. He scanned its vastness until he saw what he was looking for: the little dipper. He remembered the astronomy lessons his father had given him and his older brother, Emilio - Lucas' father - when they were young boys.

Emilio was always the better student, picking up the lessons faster and with greater ease than Simon ever could. Their father loved boasting about his older son, even calling him 'genio pequeño', the little genius.

But when asked about his younger son, Jose Monteclaro could only shake his head in disappointed resignation. It was a good thing that Simon grew up without an ounce of envy for his kuyang; in truth, he, too, was inordinately proud of Emilio.

The horse he rode out on earlier that day, snorted and pawed the ground. Simon approached it and patted the powerful neck, calming the animal.

"Are they not here yet?" a deep voice said softly behind him.

Simon turned towards the tall figure.

"No, not yet, but I am sure they will be."

"Tonight is the only time for this to succeed, Simon, there will be no second chances, you are aware of that, are you not?"

The most influential man in San Isidro nodded.

"They will be here," Simon Monteclaro answered.

-----

Capitan Gonzales held up Aniceto's rosary to the moonlight; except for the gems, it was identical to the one resting in his breast pocket.

"I mean no disrespect, Aniceto, but this is quite an expensive rosary for a man-servant to own."

The servant trembled a little, but answered firmly.

"It was a gift from Doña Cecilia, Jefe. She gave it to me when I was baptized by Padre Dominguez three years ago."

"That is true, Andres," Lucas said, "I bought those and at least a dozen others in Madrid. Tiya Cecilia wrote to me and asked me to bring them home as a gift to the servants who decided to embrace the faith."

Gonzales reached for the rosary in his pocket.

"And was this one of them?"

Lucas peered at the jewel encrusted crucifix.

"It is the same as the others, yes, but I do not recall any of them having such a cross."

"I know who owns that rosary, Jefe," Aniceto spoke again.

The other five men turned to look at the mayor-domo.

-----

Doña Cecilia held on to Maria's hand tightly as they approached the private chapel at the back of the estate where the last rites for Asuncion had been held.

The small capilla looked different in the dark, the stained glass windows gave no reflection, the thick ivy covered walls were dark, it looked almost sinister at night.

Cecilia let go of her as she opened the heavy wooden door.

"Come, hija, Emanuel is inside, waiting for you, come," she beckoned her daughter-in-law.

Maria smelled the fragrance of incense as she stepped inside. There were six candles burning on the table at the front of the small church which served as the altar whenever Padre Dominguez held mass in the capilla. She turned to look at her mother-in-law, but realized Doña Cecilia had not followed her in.

Maria was alone in the chapel.

She ran back to the door and frantically twisted the handle, it would not budge! Suddenly a sound came from the altar. Maria stepped back, afraid of what was with her inside.

The sound came again - a loud moaning, someone was in pain!

Maria made the sign of the cross, swallowed her fear and walked towards the altar, whispering the same prayer Patrocinio Macaraig recited every morning:

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."

She almost jumped when she heard the moan again; she looked towards the sound and there, chained to the wall beside the altar, was her husband, Emanuel.

Maria ran to him and gently lifted his face, a cut on his forehead was bleeding, the drops staining the front of his shirt a deep red. She tried to rouse him, but Emanuel could only mumble in pain.

She tore a strip of cloth from her long saya and started to clean the gash on his forehead.

"Ah, you are here, at last."

The same deep voice that had called to Asuncion Vergara the night she was killed, now spoke to Maria.

She turned to see Padre Domingues coming out from behind the altar.

XIII

"Are you sure about that, Aniceto?" Capitan Gonzales asked.

"Yes, Jefe, Doña Cecilia gave that rosary to Padre Domingues two Christmases ago; it was even in a perfumed wooden case."

"Sandalwood," the capitan said softly.

Aniceto nodded.

"It's one of the pastor's prized possessions."

"No wonder there," Illuminado whispered to his younger kumpadre, "just one of those pretty gems would be worth a year's earnings."

Julio nodded.

"How did this - Padre Domingues - become Doña Cecilia's private chaplain?" the capitan asked Lucas.

"They met years ago, when the family was still in Capiz; but re-connected some three years back, when he was assigned to Manila. My aunt took Katrina's death so badly - it was years before she finally recovered from it and only after Domingues administered to her spiritual needs, as she calls it."

"The pastor always visits this time of year," added Aniceto.

"Dia de los Dos Muertos, am I right?" the señor capitan said.

The mayor-domo nodded.

"That's two days away, Jefe," dela Paz said.

"Is he still at the estate?" Gonzales asked the man-servant.

"Yes, Capitan, he stays in a room at the capilla, he hardly leaves it, he has all his meals there, too."

"Capilla?"

"The private chapel, Jefe, remember? It's where we held the services for Asuncion; it's at the back of the estate. You can even see it from here."

Lucas pointed to the north side of the hill where the high rear wall of the vast Monteclaro property was clearly visible in the moonlight.

"That's the shortcut Aniceto and I used this morning to get to you," he added.

Gonzales looked at the estate then looked at the other side of the hill where they were standing; the access from the short cut to the rice fields was less than half the distance of the route he and his men had taken and from where they stood now, he could also make out the small farm holdings of Don Simon's tenants clearly as the pinpoints of light made by their gaseras dotted the edge of the paddies.

"We're going back to the mansion - now!" he ordered.

-----

"What do you mean, Padre?" Maria asked as she stood up, "and why have you kept my husband prisoner here?"

"I have been waiting for you," the priest answered, walking towards her, "as for your husband's imprisonment, let us say it's his penance, for all the wrong he has done like, hmm, let me see, visiting whorehouses late at night." He turned to her husband. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, you're a married man, Manuel," he chided.

"If he has committed a crime, he should be turned over to the proper authorities, Padre Domingues."

Maria stood her ground, though her whole body trembled in fear.

"You mean the new jefe of San Isidro? But, my child, there is no greater authority here in the islas than God and no laws higher than that which is divine."

"I demand you let me loose, Domingues!" roared Emanuel who had finally woken up.

"You cannot make demands of the good Lord - in His house, Señor Emanuel."

"You ungrateful cabron!" Emanuel said, "You dare do this after all my family has given you?"