Read Online Devil's Harbor by Alex Gilly - Free Book Online Page B

these kids, anyway? The circus?”
    â€œShe’s a good kid. Just a bit aesthetically challenged.”
    She stopped outside a door.
    â€œThe lady you’re about to meet is a legend in the community. Everyone calls her La Abuelita, ‘Grandma.’ She’s an artist, been exhibiting at the Self Help since before you and I were born, lived here forever but prefers to speak Spanish. That’s not important. The main thing is, she knows everybody who’s anybody in L.A.’s immigrant community. They say that if La Abuelita doesn’t know about it, it never happened.”
    â€œDoes she know Perez?”
    â€œJust listen to her story. You need to hear it from her.”
    Mona opened the door. Finn saw a very old woman sitting in front of a desk. She looked older than anyone he had ever met. A lightweight cotton dress with little flowers printed on it hung loosely from her ample frame. A gold crucifix rested on her bosom. Her shoulder-length gray hair framed a face with deep lines contoured around a large nose, thin lips, and bright eyes that looked far younger than the rest of her.
    La Abuelita held a cigarette between two hard-worked, arthritic fingers, the knucklebones protruding like bubbles on giant bubble wrap. The cigarette surprised Finn—the last person he remembered smoking indoors in L.A. was his father, decades before, and he knew Mona hated it. He figured that La Abuelita’s venerable age gave her impunity to antismoking pieties.
    Mona said something in Spanish and the old lady fixed her unflinching gaze on Finn.
    He smiled, said hello. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him like she was reading his face. He sat in a chair facing her. Mona sat by her side.
    â€œNick, I’d like you to meet Se ñ ora Gavrilia,” she said. “She’s from Sinaloa State. She lives here now.”
    Finn knew better than to ask about her legal status.
    â€œI’m going to ask Mrs. Gavrilia to repeat the story she told me,” said Mona.
    She said something in Spanish. La Abuelita started talking, her voice raspy, her cadence slow and deliberate. She spoke like a woman used to speaking without interruption. Mona interpreted.
    â€œMy husband’s cousin, Felipe, lives in a small village in Sinaloa. He is a fisherman. He despairs for his son, also called Felipe, who is … flojonazo. …” Mona repeated the word in Spanish before continuing. “It means he won’t work.
    â€œMy cousin tries to interest his son in the profession of fishing, but the boy doesn’t like it. Then he tries to help him find other work, first with a fishmonger, then as an assistant to a marine mechanic. But the boy won’t work. Finally, the father gets angry and kicks the young man out of the house.”
    â€œWhat was the name of the village?” asked Finn.
    â€œPuerto Escondido,” said Mona.
    The old lady dropped her cigarette into a coffee cup that Mona had provided. The coffee cup had FOLGERS printed on it. A cloud of smoke hovered around La Abuelita.
    â€œOne day during holy week, my cousin is at the bullfight in Mazatl á n. He looks down and sees Felipe, his son, sitting in the expensive seats in the shade, down by the ruedo .
    â€œHe is sitting with some men the father recognizes because they are infamous. They are Caballeros de Cristo.”
    Mona looked at Finn. The Knights of Christ were one of the biggest cartels in Mexico.
    The old lady continued, with Mona interpreting. “He becomes scared. He doesn’t want his son to be involved with men like these. After the bullfight, he seeks out his son outside the arena and begs his forgiveness. He asks him to come home.
    â€œBut the boy laughs at his father. He is wearing expensive clothes and has a thick gold chain around his neck. He humiliates his father in front of these men.
    â€œMy cousin’s son goes home to his village. His heart is heavy.
    â€œThen one day some