Stork Raving Mad(54)

“I wasn’t implying—” the chief said.

“This is an outrage! I have never been so insulted!”

“Señor Mendoza—”

“I will not stay here to be abused by the polícia!” Mendoza said, followed by several exclamations in Spanish that had the singsong sound of oft-used slogans. He seemed to be making an effort to rise, but the inescapable guest chair had him firmly in its clutches.

“No one thinks you are a thief,” I said, in my most soothing voice. “But of course, even an enraged killer might have the wit and clearheadedness to hide something if he realized it could be used as evidence against him.”

“Si,” he said, more calmly. “But her purse, her belongings—how could they be evidence?”

“The chief is only asking,” I said. Actually, I was doing the asking, and the chief, seeing that Mendoza responded to my questioning more calmly, was nodding and scribbling in his notebook. “In case you noticed whether any of her belongings were missing.”

“I care not for belongings!” Mendoza said. “So I would not notice them.”

“Just one more thing,” I asked. “Why are you telling us now? Since you seem to have gotten away without anyone catching you—why not keep silent and hope to get away with it?”

“Ah, that was my plan,” he said. “Until I realized that suspicion would fall upon young Ramon.”

“So you confessed to save Ramon,” the chief said.

“To save him from being blamed for my crime,” Mendoza said. “I cannot allow his young life to be ruined because of me. So take me away!”

He held out his hands as if for handcuffs. The chief sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you, Señor Mendoza,” he said. “We’ll be in touch.”

“You do not want to arrest me?” Mendoza looked quite disappointed.

“We have to wait for the results of the autopsy before we arrest anyone,” the chief said. “And I need to check on the protocol. I don’t know if I have the authority to arrest a foreign citizen. For now, just give me your word that you won’t leave the premises without my permission.”

“On my honor,” Mendoza said, holding his hand over his heart. “And now, if you do not wish to arrest me, I will return to my lodgings!”

He made another effort to extricate himself from the chair, and both Dad and the chief leaped to his assistance.

“Not leaving the premises means I’d like you to stay here in the house for the time being,” the chief said, as they steadied Mendoza on his feet.

“It’s okay,” I said. “His lodgings are our dining room.”

“That’s fine, then,” the chief said. “Just one little thing.”

Mendoza turned and held his head up, as if he expected the one more thing would lead to a battle of wits.

“Just what are those pills of yours?” the chief said. “The ones you spilled earlier today.”

Mendoza blinked and frowned slightly.

“My heart pills,” he said.

“Do you know the name of the medication?” the chief asked.

“No.” Mendoza shrugged slightly. “My doctor prescribes them, I take them. For the heart. Why?”

“We’re still trying to figure out whether to worry if there are any more of them lying around,” the chief said. “I’ve got my dog with me,” he added, indicating Scout, who, realizing he was the topic of conversation, lifted his head and thumped his tail on the carpet a few times.

“A noble animal!” Señor Mendoza said.

“And you know dogs. Eat anything in sight, whether it looks like food or not.”

“Shall I have the students scour the hall for the pills?” Mendoza asked.

“No,” the chief said. “We’re already doing that as part of our forensic work. But it would help if we knew what the blamed pills were.”

“Ah.” Mendoza shrugged again, more eloquently. “I cannot help you. I leave that to my doctor.”

“Not wise,” I said. “Anyone who’s taking any kind of medicine—even over-the-counter medicine—should be an informed consumer. Look up what the effects and side effects are, and whether it has interactions with other drugs you might be taking or—”

“I cannot be bothered with that!” Mendoza exclaimed. “If my doctor decides to poison me, so be it!”

With that, he strode out of the room. We could hear the brisk tap of his cane disappearing down the hallway.





Chapter 18


“So, do you believe a word of Señor Mendoza’s confession?” I asked.