The San Isidro Mysteries 02: The Chinaman in the Well

Finally, out of patience and breath, the man slammed the handle against the window. The glass shattered; he threw the axe down and heaved himself over the broken pane, glad to escape from the intermittent rain that had plagued San Isidro the whole day.

He headed for Francisco's office at the other end of the building.

When he reached it, he fumbled for the box of matches in his pocket, finally lighting one. He lit the small oil lamp on the desk, thankful that it still had a little kerosene left.

He knew Francisco kept a detailed list of not just who came to purchase and use opium in the store, but the names of those who had shared in its profits and would benefit most from the Chinaman's death. He had to find it.

The yelping of the neighbor's dogs startled him; he could not stay any longer, it was the night of a full moon and he could not risk being seen, not even in shadowy moonlight.

Turning down the lamp, he quickly made his way back to the broken window, and climbed out. He made his way to the disused well where his companion sat waiting, the lifeless body of a man lay face down at his feet.

"Did you find it?" the second man asked.

"It was not there," the first man answered, shaking his head.

"Well, there are other ways of finding out what that list contains," the second man said, "Help me up," he added, extending a hand.

The first man pulled his companion up; but before they left, the second man spat on the corpse at his feet.

"Traidor!" he whispered.

It was clear that the man was dead, his naked torso and splayed arms were grey, a bloody gaping hole was visible at the back of his skull, and when dela Paz turned him over, there were cigarette burns all over his chest, especially on his breasts and nipples. His face was horribly swollen, there were several bruises on his arms and legs, and in the middle of his forehead was another small round hole

"This poor man was beaten and tortured before a bullet ended his life, Capitán," the sargento said.

The señor capitán did not say anything, the body count in this latest mystery was starting to climb; yesterday, while he was at Rodrigo Chua's house, San Isidro had only one murder victim, today the town had two and both were connected to the mannequin in the well and, no doubt, the opium trade of the first victim, Francisco Chua.

"It seems we aren't the first ones here," Andrés said.

"Why do you say that?"

The jefe pointed to the soil around the well.

"There are fresh footprints here, dela Paz," he knelt down and pointed them out.

"And there are two sets of prints, they very well could belong to whoever killed this poor fellow," he added. He studied the hole on the dead man's forehead.

"This must be the entry wound, judging from the amount of blood at the back of his head. Who found him again?"

"Two young children on their way to school found him, Jefe. Since the closure of Chua's bodega, it's become a habit for them to climb over the wall to get to that guava tree," the sargento said, pointing to a large fruit tree inside the compound.

Gonzales stood up and looked at the fence that ran around the compound. His eyes fell on more of the crates that were stacked nearer the adobe fence and not with the rest that were placed under a small roofed shed. He walked towards the crates then looked back at the well; a trail of footprints led from the fence to the well and back again to the crates.

"Hmm, yesterday's bad weather may be a blessing in disguise. Dela Paz, go out the gate and around to the other side of this wall."

"I'm here, Capitán," dela Paz shouted when he reached the other side of the fence.

"Good," Andrés called back, "Are you on a street, Sargento?"

"Yes, I'm on the street behind the compound."

"Now look at the ground and tell me what you see."

The sargento looked down; he saw nothing on the street behind the compound at first, but when he walked closer to the wall, where the ground was much softer, he saw more footprints and the unmistakable hoof-prints of a horse.

"I see hoof-prints, Jefe...wait...there is something else," dela Paz bent down.

On the grass was a box of expensive matches.

-----

Kidlat was uneasy as he sat in the safe house; it had been three days since he and Jaime had last seen and heard from Maximo.

The younger man was foolish and prone to imbibing more than his share of the potent native brew - lambanog - but Porcia's uncle was sure Maximo would not deliberately get drunk while on a mission; the assignment itself was simple enough: partner with Abel Medina and follow Porcia and the jefe once the pair left the shop, but he had not returned.

Jaime had paid a visit to the Trajes that morning and had seen both Porcia and Abel at the shop, so where was Maximo? And now another dead man was found in Chua's compound, they needed to know more about this new victim.

Kidlat cursed both Jaime and Maximo under his breath - never trust anyone on hearsay - he reached for the glass of kapeng barako in front of him and sipped at the now cold and bitter brew; that idiot Maximo had better have a plausible excuse for his absence.

A soft rapping at the door broke the quiet, Kidlat waited and went to open it after the second knock; a visibly shaken Jaime entered the small room.

"So where is he?" asked the head of the movement.

Porcia's uncle reached for the glass of cold coffee and downed the remaining liquid.

"He's dead, Kidlat, he was the man found in Chua's compound."

-----

Alberto Fuentes clutched the bouquet of white lilies he had bought that morning tighter before knocking at the door of Dr. Vito Cruz's office. Elisa had progressed so well in the last week, that he was sure it would only be a day or two before the doctor released her and they could get back home to Porcia; only the night before, husband and wife had talked about perhaps opening a small flower shop at home, hence, the flowers. True, there were a few times when a faraway look would enter Elisa's eyes, as if her thoughts were somewhere else, but the good doctor said it was probably homesickness. He gently knocked on the door.

"Come in," Dr. Vito Cruz called out. Alberto entered and was surprised to see the hospital priest, Padre Dimaano, in the office.

"Buenos días, Alberto, come, sit down," the doctor said, "You know Padre Dimaano, of course. Those are beautiful, by the way," he added pointing to the lilies.

Alberto smiled as he and the priest sat down,

"They are Elisa's favorite flowers. We were talking last night and she said she might want to start a small flower shop at home when we return," Alberto said.

The doctor nodded.

"Well, I am extremely pleased with Elisa's recuperation and, until last night, I felt that there was no reason to keep her here at the Manicomio any longer, however, Padre Dimaano here, has brought something to my attention that you need to know."

Alberto felt the growing fear and dread in his soul, he turned to the elderly priest,

"Wh...what is it, Padre?"

"My son, Elisa asked for an audience early this morning and we had quite a long talk. She asked me to give you this letter," Padre Dimaano said, handing a single sheet of paper to Alberto. "If you, after reading it, cannot forgive her, she will understand and will return to her family home in Tarlac quietly. But if you can forgive her, she will be at the chapel, waiting."

Dr. Vito Cruz saw Alberto's face turn pale as he read Elisa's confession, he saw the pain in his eyes; the letter he held started to shake.

When he finished reading it, Alberto folded the sheet and placed it on the doctor's desk. He did not say a word; instead, he closed his eyes and recalled the first day he had seen Elisa; she had smiled at him that day and, except for the past year when she was held captive by her addiction, that smile had always been there...for him and, after their daughter was born...for Porcia. Through the good days and the bad, that smile had never wavered. He had asked her once how it was so and she had simply answered, "I chose you, Alberto, remember?"

He rubbed the tears from his eyes and rose to his feet.

Elisa was kneeling at the front pew, her eyes closed, her fingers clutching a rosary and her lips moving in silent prayer, when he reached the chapel. Her eyes flew open when he knelt beside her.

"How can you...?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Alberto placed a hand over hers.

"I will always choose you, Elisa," he answered gently.

-----

The door of the small accessoria suddenly burst open, two masked men entered the room.

Jaime tried to draw the sundang that was strapped to his waist but the taller of the two men was quicker; the sharp edge of his machete was quickly at Jaime's throat. Elisa's brother quickly placed his hands over his head in surrender.

"On your knees, compadre," the man ordered.

Jaime knelt as the other man approached.

"Where is Kidlat?" the smaller man asked, his voice surprisingly calm, at odds with the scythe he held in one hand.

"He left an hour ago," Jaime answered.

"And where was he going?" the man asked again.

"I do not know where he went."

"Well, it will be easy enough to find him. Jaime, my friend, do you see this?" he rolled up one sleeve.

Jaime's eyes widened in surprise when he saw the triple "K's" and the emblem of the sun tattooed on the man's arm.

"S...supremo?" he whispered.

The man smiled and nodded.

"Do you know how the society deals with traitors, Jaime?"

"I...I have never betrayed the society."

"Have you forgotten the very first rule we promised to uphold when we took the oath, Jaime?"

Jaime did not answer.

"Let my compadre here refresh your memory," the supremo turned to his companion.

"Always protect the weak," the other man answered.

The supremo nodded his head in satisfaction then he turned his attention to the kneeling man once more. Jaime spoke up.

"I have never hurt anyone without just cause, Supremo."

"Ah, but you seem to have forgotten the poor Chinaman."

"Supremo, I...I do not know what you are talking about."

"He was a sixty-year old man, who was nearly deaf and whose eyesight was starting to fail, Jaime, yet you and your friends mercilessly killed him. Maximo has already paid for that transgression. Now, it is your turn."

"Wait, Supremo, please...please listen, the only time I dealt with the Chinese was when we dressed the mannequin we threw into the town well with their clothes; Kidlat said someone paid to have it done, I know nothing about Señor Chua's murder...nothing," Jaime pleaded.

"No more lies, Jaime, and no more begging, I doubt Francisco was even given the chance to beg for his life. But I am a much fairer man, Jaime, my friend and I will give you a chance to escape with your life. Now, get up."

Jaime stood up, his knees visibly shaking.

"We will give you a five minute start before we follow. Don't you think that is fair?"

Jaime could only nod helplessly.

"Good, now, at the count of three, I want you to run out into the street as fast as you can. Uno...dos...tr...".

Abel burst into the room.

"Supremo, wait! This man's only crime was to accept payment for a cruel hoax, he could never harm Francisco Chua."

"And how would you know that, Abel?"

"They have a blood bond, Supremo, Francisco was godfather to his niece."

"The blood bond," whispered the supremo, "You are a lucky man, Jaime."

Jaime fell to his knees in relief.

The supremo turned to Abel once more.

"Should you not be guarding the capitán and the señorita?"

Abel breathed a sigh of relief, nodded and left.

-----

The tiny bell hanging at the front door of the Trajes de Hombre tinkled merrily. Puzzled, Porcia stood up, straightened her saya and headed out of the tiny workroom. It was starting to get quite dark outside as she had worked far longer than usual. Andrés had told her the night before that he would be late in fetching her; while Abel had, once again, begged to be let out early that afternoon.

She wondered who would enter the shop at this hour, when she stopped at the doorway of the workroom.

Estanislao Javier stood on the opposite side of the glass counter, smiling

"Buenas, hija," he said, "I know this has come as a surprise, your father asked me to fetch your dear mamá's birth certificate. The Manicomio needs it. I hope I haven't troubled you."

"There is no trouble at all, Señor Javier," she said, "If you won't mind waiting for a few more minutes, I'll close shop and we can go home together, the document is there."

Estanislao breathed more easily; Francisco had written him about the worsening relations he had in San Isidro and his suspicion that their partners were behind it, he also wrote he would leave the list with his goddaughter, in one of the curios he often gifted her with.

"It will be safer for her if she does not know," he had written, "we can always retrieve it when present circumstances turn better."

Once inside the Fuentes' house, all Javier had to do was to distract the girl long enough to search for it.

"I'll be out on the street, smoking, hija," he called out to Porcia..

"Alright," Porcia answered as she tidied up the small workroom. She put out the lights in the shop and went out the door, carefully pinning a letter to it before making her way to Estanislao Javier.

"How are Mamá and Papá?" she asked as they walked to her house.

-----

Kidlat crossed San Isidro's main street as he made his way to the Trajes De Hombre where he hoped he would find Abel Medina. He knew it was past working hours, but Abel had mentioned that he and Porcia were staying later because of the many orders for suits that had been placed with them. But as he turned the corner opposite the shop, he saw Porcia Fuentes walking away from the shop with a tall, older gentleman. Kidlat quickly hid himself behind the wide doorpost of a grocer's shop when he recognized the man.

He peered out as the pair walked past him; Porcia was with Estanislao Javier, the man who had paid him to keep Francisco Chua and the opium den safe.

Señor Capitán Gonzales once again saw the triple "K's" staring at him from Maximo de Leon's limp arm, they were tattooed on the inside of the dead man's wrist; no doubt, to conceal them better. Tattoos were not uncommon, especially among the Indios, but the triple "K's" were something he had seen only twice before, on the red kerchief they had retrieved from Francisco Chua's body and - though slightly different - on his brother, Rodrigo's wrist, when they shook hands.

Then there was the box of matches - Bryant and Mays - they had recovered from outside of Chua's bodega; it was rare in San Isidro, it was far too expensive a brand for most of the town-folk. He knew he had seen a similar box, but just where, the jefe could not remember. He picked up the box and wished it could speak.

His eyes strayed to the clock on the opposite wall - it was past the time he had told Porcia he would fetch her. He quickly placed the matches in his pocket, bid dela Paz a hurried good-night and strode out the door. Porcia would not be pleased with his tardiness and would probably welcome him with her forehead all red and her lips in that obstinate pout. The capitán's own lips suddenly broke into a smile; if she were angry, he knew of very pleasurable ways to dissipate her black mood.

However, the note he read at the door of the Trajes puzzled him. Porcia was heading home - with Estanislao Javier.

-----

"Thank you, hija," Javier said, accepting the cup of coffee Porcia offered to him, "this is just what an old man like me needs to warm his aching bones, have you noticed how much colder it is this year?"

Porcia took the seat opposite him and nodded her head.

"I'm so glad Mamá is better, Señor, and thank you again for helping us."

Javier waved his hand.

"Please, Porcia, no thanks are necessary, you and your parents are almost family," he took a sip of the warm brew, "Now, I mean no disrespect, but your Mamá's birth certificate...?"

Porcia stood up at once.

"Oh, yes, do forgive me, your good news made me forget. The document is in a box in Papá's aparador upstairs. It may take a few minutes, it's been at least a year since that has been opened, I hope you can wait?" she said.

"Ah, take your time then, hija, so I can savor this excellent brew at my leisure."

As soon as she had gone, Javier placed the cup down and made his way to the china cabinet in the sala; several of the curios inside it were familiar, he was sure they had all come from Francisco. He opened the glass door and began to go through the trinkets, shaking, pulling and twisting each one, hopeful that the next one would pop open and reveal Chua's list. Soon the cabinet was a mess of hastily strewn trinkets.

His patience began to wear thin, he had gone through several lacquered fans, paperweights and spice shakers to no success; in disgust, he threw one of the small bottles on the floor.

"Here it...Señor Javier, w...what are you doing?" Porcia asked.

Estanislao turned as Porcia walked in, a thick leather folder in one hand.

He delved into his pocket and pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the girl.

"I mean you no harm, hija, but you must help me," he said, motioning for Porcia to sit down.

She did as he ordered, holding the folder like a shield, on her lap.

"Are you looking for something?" she whispered.

Estanislao nodded.

"I know you have found out what your ninong was up to. I'm not proud of it, but I was also...involved."

Porcia gasped.

"It was purely for money, Porcia, we had no inkling that the opium business would become deadly. Now, the situation has become...even worse...I am in danger, too, just like your godfather."

"What do you mean?"

Javier took a step closer to where Porcia was seated.

"Porcia, up until the night I was told that Francisco was killed, I was sending telegrams to him here in San Isidro...and receiving replies...whoever killed your ninong, did not want me, or anyone, to know. But now that I know he is dead, I may be the next one to die."

"But why, Señor Javier?"

"Your ninong kept a detailed list of our clients, but more importantly, of our partners, and they stand to gain the most from our deaths. But if I have the list, they cannot harm me. Help me find it, Porcia."

"But Ninong Francisco never even mentioned a list to me nor did he ever give me one, I don't have it, Señor," Porcia answered.

Javier let out an exasperated sigh, he was growing desperate.

"He would not have told you to keep you and your family safe, but It has to be in one of those little trinkets he was so fond of giving you, Porcia, he told me so himself before I left for Manila."

Porcia's eyes strayed to the china cabinet and the bibelots that were now untidily strewn about in its shelves.

"You have gone through them and haven't found anything, there is nothing more I can help you with."

"Think harder," Javier's temper was rising, "Are these all the presents he has given you?"

Porcia hoped her voice was calm, though her heart was racing.

"There is still the jewelry box in my room upstairs. I'll go fetch it."

She rose from her seat, but Estanislao stood in her way.