Woes of the True Policeman

me up and down and laughs. Not just any laugh. The kind of laugh that makes your hair stand on end, especially when you’re young, and he says I don’t need a doctor. And I got the sense that the word doctor struck him as funny, because when he repeated it he laughed again. And then I thought, old age is making mi general soft in the head. A naïve, foolish thought, because after all, how old was mi general back then? fifty-eight or fifty-nine, in the prime of life, as they say. And a single look at him was enough to tell you that no such thing was possible, the man was saner than you or me, boys, nothing screwy about him. And that’s where I was, my mind flitting from one thought to the next, when I heard mi general ordering me to pour myself a coffee, too, a gesture I appreciated, since I could really use one. And when my coffee was ready, mi general pointed at a cupboard and told me to open it and I opened it and found a stash of whiskey, because mi general drank only whiskey, boys, like me. And he said—I remember like it was yesterday—Negrete, get down a bottle of whiskey and warm up my coffee a little. And I poured a nice splash of whiskey into his cup, which was almost empty, and then mi general said warm yours up, too, jackass, because you’re going to need it. Which was an offer that sounded more like a warning or a threat, don’t you think? but I ignored it because frankly I felt like a drink. So I poured whiskey in my coffee and I drank it down. And when I was done mi general made a toast—to life, I think—and I raised my glass too. And as we were going on the fifth or sixth shot the old man said that in the servant’s room there was a dead body. And I said: you’re kidding, mi general , and he looked me in the eyes and said that he never kidded anyone. Go take a look, he said, see for yourself. Then I got up and went searching all over the house for that goddamn room. I got lost a few times, but at last I found it. It was under the main stairs, the ones that went up to the second floor. And what do you think was the first thing I saw when I went in? Mi general Sepúlveda sitting on one of the beds, waiting for me! I almost shat myself I was so scared, lads! What do you say to that?”
    “Incredible,” said the policemen.
    “Of course, there was nothing uncanny about it. While I was looking all over the house for the room, the old son of a bitch had gone straight there. That was all. But the scare of it almost killed me. The first thing I managed to say was: mi general , what are you doing here? The old man didn’t answer or if he did I instantly forgot what he said. Next to him on the bed was a shape with the sheet pulled up over its head. The general got up and motioned for me to come and take a look. I crept forward, boys, and lifted the sheet. I saw the face of a man who might have been sixty or eighty, his face covered in wrinkles, some of them deep grooves, though his hair was black, jet-black, cut very short, fierce, if you know what I mean. Then the general spoke. I swung around as if I’d been touched with a live wire. The general was sitting on the other bed. He’s dead, isn’t he? he asked. I think so, mi general , I said. But I uncovered him again, the dead man was wearing only his pajama top, but this time I pulled the sheet down to his knees, Christ, I’ve never liked the genitals on a stiff, boys, and I examined him carefully to see whether there were any signs of violence. Not a one. Then I checked his pulse. He had rigor mortis up the ass, as our friend Dr. Cepeda says, and I covered him back up with the sheet. This man is dead, mi general , I said. I thought as much, he said, and then for the first time he seemed to collapse, though it was just for a second, I thought he was about to fall apart, bit by bit, but as I said, it was just for a second. He pulled himself together instantly, rubbed his unshaven face, and ordered me to sit across from him, on the dead man’s bed. The funeral home will have to be called, he said. I thought to myself that who he should really be calling was a doctor to issue a death certificate, and the police, but I didn’t say anything, after all, I was the police and there I was, wasn’t I? Then mi general , seeing that I wasn’t asking any questions, said that the dead man was his employee, his only employee, and that he had been with him for longer than he could remember. This man, he said, this motherfucking corpse, saved my life