Woes of the True Policeman

said to the waitress: “Charge it to me, Clarita, and that’s an order.”
    Ten minutes later Pedro Negrete called for another drink and encouraged the policemen to follow suit. The policemen said that one beer was enough for them, but this time they were paying.
    “Out of the question,” said Don Pedro, “I’ve got it.”
    The waitress brought another round of beers and another whiskey for Don Pedro.
    “Aren’t you drinking?” asked Don Pedro.
    “My stomach is funny today,” answered Gumaro in an spectral voice.
    The policemen looked at Gumaro and Don Pedro and then they started to eat the peanuts that the waitress had left on the table.
    “Young people today can’t hold their liquor,” said Pedro Negrete. “In my years in uniform I knew a cop who drank a bottle of tequila every morning before he went on his rounds. His name was Emilio López. Alcohol was the death of him in the end, of course. We never let him drive the patrol car, but he was a good guy, the kind of man you could trust.”
    “He died of a burst liver,” said Gumaro.
    “Well, those are the risks.”
    “His liver was the size of a plum.”
    Don Pedro Negrete ordered another whiskey. The policemen accepted another round of beers.
    “Did you know General Sepúlveda, lads?”
    “No,” said one of the policemen. The others shook their heads.
    “You’re young, of course. Did you know him, Gumaro?”
    “No,” said Gumaro with a sigh.
    “Right after I joined the force I was assigned to guard his house. He lived on this very street, which was already named after him, General Sepúlveda at Colima. It was a big house, with a pool and tennis court. I was stationed at the door and my two buddies were in the street, so I didn’t have anyone to talk to and I just stood there thinking. Then it started to rain, only a drizzle, you could hardly see it, but to be safe I took shelter under a gazebo in the yard. Then the door to the house opened and General Sepúlveda himself appeared. He was wearing a burgundy robe and underneath it he was in pajamas, it was the first time I had seen him in person and I thought he must be at least ninety, though he was probably much younger. At first he didn’t notice I was there. He glanced out into the yard and up at the sky. He seemed worried about something. Maybe he was afraid the rain would ruin some of his flowers, but I don’t think so. When he saw me, he beckoned me over. At your service, mi general , I said. He didn’t say a word, just looked at me, and with a wave of his hand he signaled me to follow him into the house. Of course, as you can imagine, my orders were to stay outside, in case some asshole got past my buddies in the street, but mi general was a tough old son of a bitch and I obeyed without a murmur. As impressive as that house was from the outside, boys, on the inside it was stunning. It had everything. Paintings over six feet tall. It was more like a museum than a house, which pretty much sums it up. Of course, I couldn’t stop to get a good look because mi general was walking quickly and I had to follow close behind so I didn’t get lost in those endless hallways. At last we came to the kitchen and mi general stopped and asked if I wanted coffee. I said I would be delighted, of course, but since I saw that his hands were trembling I offered to make it myself and then the old man sighed, he said all right, go ahead, and he dropped into a chair. I remember that while I was making the coffee I heard him breathing behind me and for a moment I wondered whether something was wrong. Has anything like that ever happened to you, boys?”
    The policemen shook their heads.
    “Well, there I was, making coffee, and I could hear mi general breathing and I said to myself: careful, Pedro, you don’t want General Sepúlveda to die on you. And I was about to ask the general whether he was feeling poorly and whether I should call a doctor, when all of a sudden the old man asks what’s your name. And I say: Pedro Negrete, at your service, mi general . And he asks how old I am. And I say: twenty-three, mi general . And by then I have his coffee ready and I set it on the table and I notice that the general is staring at me, his eyes are boring into me, and I think, this man is sizing me up, but why is he sizing me up? And then the general says he doesn’t feel well and I say if you want I can call a doctor, mi general , or an ambulance, all you have to do is say the word, but the general looks