Sweet Scent of Death

CHAPTER I Adela Ramon Castanos was dusting his counter when he heard a faraway, piercing shriek. Listening carefully, he heard only the usual morning hum. He decided it was just the screech of a chachalaca, many of which flapped about the hill. He went on with his dusting. Taking down a shelf, he prepared to clean it, when there was another scream, much closer and clearer. This was followed by another, then another. Ramon put down the shelf, jumped over the counter and went out the door to see what was happening. It was early Sunday; he found no one. But the screams became more and more frantic and continuous. Walking out to the middle of the street, he saw three boys in the distance, running towards him, shouting at the top of their lungs. 'A dead woman...a dead woman...' Ramon moved toward them and stopped one as the others fled among the houses. 'What's up?' he asked. 'They killed her...they killed her...' howled the boy. 'Who? Where?' Without another word the child raced off, back where he'd come from. Ramon followed him, running along the path to the river, until they reached a field of sorghum. 'There,' gasped the frightened child, pointing to one side of the field. A corpse lay among the furrows. Ramon approached slowly, his heart pounding at every step. The woman was nude, lying face up in a pool of blood. The moment he saw her he could not take his eyes off her. At sixteen he had often dreamt of seeing a naked woman, but had never imagined finding one like this. He surveyed her smooth, motionless skin more in shock than in lust, for it was a young body. With her arms stretched back and one leg slightly bent, she seemed to implore a final embrace. The sight moved him. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, noticing the sweet scent of cheap floral perfume. He felt like giving her his hand, lifting her, telling her to cut out the pretense of death. She remained nude and still. Ramon took off his shirt, his Sunday best, and covered her as well as he could. As he bent over, he recognized Adela. She had been stabbed in the back. A crowd of curious villagers, led by the other kids, arrived noisily, almost stumbling over the body. But the sight of it silenced them. They surrounded it quietly, some furtively examining the dead woman. Ramon realized that her body was still partly exposed. He broke off a few sorghum stalks to cover the bare parts. The others watched him, surprised, as if intruding on a private rite. A fat, gray-haired man pushed his way to the front. He was Loma Grande's ejido delegate, Justino Tellez. He stopped momentarily, reluctant to go beyond the circle surrounding Ramon and the dead girl. He would have preferred to stay out of the way, in the crowd, but he represented authority and as such would have to intervene. Taking three steps forward, he spat on the ground and said something to Ramon which no one heard. He knelt beside the body, raising the shirt to look at the girl's face. He crouched, examining the corpse for some time. Finally, covering it again, he stood up with difficulty and clicked his tongue. With a bandanna from his pocket he wiped the sweat trickling down his face. 'Bring a cart,' he ordered. 'We have to take her to the village.' No one moved. Aware that he was not being obeyed, Justino Tellez examined the faces watching him and stopped at Pascual Ortega, thin, awkward and bowlegged.'Move it, Pascual; go get your grandfather's cart.' As if he had been brusquely awakened, Pascual took one look at the corpse, then at the delegate, swung around and dashed off to Loma Grande. Justino and Ramon stood wordlessly face to face. Among the whispers of the curious, someone asked, 'Who is she?' No one really knew who she was, but an unidentified vArriaga, Guillermo is the author of 'Sweet Scent of Death ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780743296793 and ISBN 0743296796.