Certain Dark Things(79)

The shrimp made him think of the sea, which he’d never seen. He guessed he might see it now, with Atl.

Bernardino led them to a door that had been decorated by attaching dozens of plushies and plastic toys to it. There were naked dolls, plastic figurines without their limbs, and a one-eyed teddy bear. It was creepy as hell, and made Domingo give Atl a worried look. But she stood stoically as Bernardino rapped on the door.

There was a faint movement of the curtains in the window to the left of the door and then an old man opened the door for them. He was gray, this man, as though he’d been placed in the washing machine too many times. Even his lips seemed gray. His T-shirt, of a color that only approximated white, was stained yellow at the neck.

“I didn’t think you left your home anymore,” the old man said. “I thought you’d turned into a regular old hermit.”

“Invite us in,” Bernardino replied.

“I like that about your kind, Bernardino. You are polite. You don’t break windows and storm into a house. Come in, then. Come.”

The apartment was tiny. The living room, kitchen, and dining room were in one spot. A curtain with a pattern of daisies, dangling over a piece of rope, divided the small space. Domingo figured behind the curtain was both the man’s bed and the bathroom.

“You look good.”

“I don’t think I can say the same,” Bernardino said smoothly.

“My liver,” the old man replied, patting his swollen belly. “I’ll be dead next year. It doesn’t matter. High time, I say. Sit down.”

They sat around the table. Its surface was covered with a yellow-and-white piece of plastic instead of a tablecloth. A statue of San Judas Tadeo sat next to the salt and pepper. On the wall, dirty with age and spotted with humidity, there was a green cross, Jesus resting on it. Several dolls had been nailed to the wall, like butterflies in glass cases.

“You got yourself new Renfields?”

“No. They are friends. Of a sort. Manuel, meet Atl and Domingo.”

“Hello, young folks,” Manuel said. “Do you want coffee? I drink it with a smidgen of mezcal, myself.”

Domingo looked at the man’s dirty shirt, his greasy hair, and shook his head, though it was not his hygiene that held him back. He’d already had booze and did not want to attempt more, never having been the best at alcohol.

“No, thank you,” Atl said.

“Suit yourself.” Manuel dabbled in the kitchen, opening a cupboard and pulling out a cup, a box with sugar, a spoon.

“I need you to do something for me. A delivery.”

“Didn’t think you were still in that business,” Manuel said, setting down his cup and sitting down. “What do you need to get across?”

“The kids.”

“People? That’s a bit of a pickle, isn’t it?”

“As if you never trafficked people,” Bernardino scoffed.

“Usually I was trying to get them into Mexico. You’re talking the other way around. There’s a difference.”

“Not impossible.”

“No,” Manuel said. “I’m a bit out of the loop, you know?”

“I’ve noticed.”

Manuel took out a pair of round-rimmed glasses from his back trouser pocket and put them on, examining Domingo and Atl. “Can I look at your hands, dear?” he asked.

Atl complied, pressing her one good, gloved hand on the table.

Manuel chuckled. “I know what that means. She’s a vampire, ain’t she? You’re from the Aztec tribe.”

Manuel took off his glasses, using them to point at Bernardino. “Shit ain’t like it used to be. They’re real paranoid down at the border nowadays. Next thing you know, they’ll be having thermal scanners there, too.”

“I doubt it.”

“Doubt it all you want.”

“It doesn’t matter. I want you to employ the trails, like you used to. Elisa wouldn’t take the gig. I thought you had more balls,” Bernardino said.

“Elisa,” Manuel said. “That chit. Good for nothing. She never could make a run across without messing something up. I’m not surprised.”

“And then?”

“I told you, my liver is killing me,” the old man said, rubbing his belly for emphasis. “I want to stay here and watch TV, not run around a dusty road into Guatemala. What would that get me? Me? Money? A bit pointless, now.”

“You owe me a favor.”

“I know.” Manuel sipped his coffee.

Domingo noticed that there were more toys on the refrigerator. They were everywhere, sad and broken, much like the old man. Was this a former Renfield? He didn’t seem like much. Domingo had a hard time picturing him next to Bernardino; the old vampire was aristocratic looking, not the type who would associate with a bum. Domingo realized that he himself didn’t look like much either. Was he like this guy, only younger? That was a nasty thought.

“We can’t have the pickup in Mexico City. They’re looking for her. Outside, not far from a landfill,” Bernardino said.

“Bordo Blanco,” Domingo said. “We’ll be at Tenayuca and Catedra.”

“How soon?” Manuel asked.

“Tomorrow,” Bernardino said. “One a.m.”