The Garden of Betrayal - Lee Vance [58]
“Fine,” he said eventually. “Let me explain. Carlos and I grew up poor in the same neighborhood. We were scholarship students at secondary school together. He was captain of the football team, captain of the debate team, a natural leader. I was quiet, but he always had time for me because we’d known each other in short pants. After university, we married sisters. Carlos introduced me to my wife. The sisters are from an old Caracas family, and their connections were enough to get us both good jobs with the government.” He touched his chest with a trembling finger. “Me, I’ve never had much ambition. A good book, a nice glass of wine, a fast car—that’s always been enough. But Carlos was destined to be a great man. He rose rapidly. There were people who thought he might become president someday.”
“You admired him,” I suggested, uncomfortable at the discrepancy between the Carlos he was describing and the violent thug Reggie had told me about.
“Very much.”
“So, what happened?”
Gallegos’s eyes shone, and I had the impression that he was on the verge of tears.
“Carlos and I met for lunch the week before he was murdered. He was agitated and unhappy. I’d never seen him that way before. I asked what was wrong. He said that he and some of his political rivals had been offered a bribe—a very large bribe—to do something that wasn’t in the best interests of Venezuela. The others had agreed, but he’d said no. Afterward, he had the feeling that these men were suspicious of him—that they thought he might use what he knew to embarrass them. He told me that he’d been falsely accused of harassing some women at work. He suspected that he’d been followed, and that someone was listening in on his phone calls. He believed it was all part of an effort to intimidate him, to suggest what life would be like if he didn’t cooperate.”
“How did he respond?”
“He hadn’t decided yet. It was the last time we spoke. A week later, his wife called to say that he was dead.”
“And you think these people had him killed.”
“I’m certain of it. His rivals used his death to generate political capital. The Venezuelan papers went on at length about the ‘criminal behavior’ that led to his ‘sordid demise.’ Carlos was a reformer. Everyone like-minded had to distance themselves from him, no matter how suspicious they were of the circumstances.”
The waitress put food on the table. We both ignored it. He seemed sincere, but I strongly suspected he was seeing his former brother-in-law through rose-tinted glasses. During my twenty-year career in the financial industry, I’d never met a guy wrongly accused of sexual harassment.
“And you told all this to the police?”
“No. None of it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I got a call ordering me not to. You have to understand. I’m not brave like Carlos was. I had a wife, two daughters, a newly widowed sister-in-law, and four fatherless nieces and nephews. I did what I was told to do. I kept my mouth shut.”
“Who called you?”
He shook his head wordlessly.
“I need to know,” I insisted.
“I can’t tell you,” he said softly. “It’s not right of you to ask. Things happen. You have no idea.”
I was well aware that things happened. I had a sudden urge to grab him by the collar and bang his head against the wall. The fact that someone didn’t want him spouting wild notions didn’t mean the notions were true, but a name would have given me an avenue to investigate.
“You mentioned your sister-in-law,” I said, struggling to keep the animus out of my voice. “What was her relationship with Carlos like?”
His eyes narrowed.
“You read the police report. You want to know if he was violent.”
I was beyond apologizing.
“Was he?”
“It was all lies. Carlos never hit a woman in his life. He was a devoted husband.” He smiled grimly. “Your next question is why a devoted husband kept a girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
“Americans are unreasonable about sexual matters,” he said, flapping a hand dismissively. “Carlos cared for his family, but he had normal desires.”
“You knew he was seeing another woman?”
“Of course. He told me when he first asked to borrow the car.