Night Across the Street Page #4

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He's come to hide here.

I'm going out for a walk.

Come for dinner, God willing.

I'll arrive late,

but I'll be there,

God willing.

Is that him?

That's him.

I'd imagined him to be different.

He won't be easy to kill.

Don't talk about it,

not yet.

Sorry that I didn't notice.

Rosina, at your service.

Rosina's a dancer.

At this time of day,

she goes to the cabaret

and comes back at dawn.

I go to all the nightclubs in the north.

I dance

and then disappear in the blink of an eye.

That's how I am.

I'd never touch a man.

All talk and no play!

Don't believe her, Rolo Pedro.

She lies to calm the pain and the anger.

They all do.

I'm off.

See you at dawn.

Have a coffee and eggs

waiting for me, how I like them,

scrambled and fried.

For God's sake,

I always get lumped

with the hopeless cases.

Well,

as long as they pay.

And this one?

Him...

He's the one who never speaks.

You're the sort of person

who's always on time.

And you're always early.

Antenor Figueroa.

Lieutenant Figueroa.

Did you bring the gun?

I did,

here it is.

- Are you that interested in the gun?

- I am, yes,

I'd rather know.

I'd rather know which weapon

I'm going to be killed with.

Why do you say that?

Nobody's going to kill you.

I have it in writing.

I wrote it.

The only one who's going to die

is that weakling.

- Has he arrived yet?

- Yes.

- What does he look like?

- Young.

Nice.

And Nigilda?

Nice.

Does he know?

That they want to kill him?

I think so.

Good.

I'm no good at close range.

Tell me, Don Antenor,

is there anyone

who doesn't want to kill someone?

Apparently. I know one person.

Myself.

You got me there.

I have to do it.

The opportunity presented itself.

I can't shirk my duty.

But as to actually enjoying it...

I came

to ask you a favor.

Don't do it, Don Antenor.

Gin, please.

I am late?

It's my destiny to wait.

In one low-life bar

and gambling den after another.

Waiting and waiting.

My letters?

Did you get my letters?

Sometimes.

And,

what did you think?

I read them over and over again.

I learnt them by heart.

Then I burnt them. Always at midday.

With this magnifying glass.

There's always enough sun around here.

It's better that way.

Then there's no proof.

Proof of what's going to happen tomorrow,

or the day after.

Or what's already happened.

Don't do it, Don Antenor.

Look,

you see? Read it.

What?

Behind you.

DON'T DO IT ANTENOR

Who wrote that?

How did they know?

Everybody knows.

Everybody?

They just don't believe it.

Does Nigilda know?

But she believes it,

she must be the only one.

I don't know what's wrong with me recently.

I suddenly got the feeling

that all this has happened already.

What with thinking about it so much,

I get the feeling that it's already happened

and that it went wrong.

It's all going to be fine, my darling.

"I hope for you

"that this ill-gotten money doesn't stain us,

"that it makes us happy and even happier.

"Together.

"Don't let it be the devil's money,

or money easily lost."

That's what you wrote to me.

Well?

Haven't you got anything to say?

I was thinking that

in the letter I wrote to you,

and I'm glad that you burnt it, by the way

when I wrote you that letter,

I didn't know Nigilda.

I had no idea that in her boarding house

there was a retired man

who'd received some money.

And that to kill him wouldn't cost anything.

Poor Don Celso.

That's how things are.

We can't change them now.

When?

Monday's a good day.

He knows.

He told me.

He told me. "You came to kill me," he said.

No,

he says the same thing

to everyone who stays here.

He says they're going to kill him,

and when they leave,

he shrugs his shoulders and sighs.

This time he's right.

He has his suspicions,

but who doesn't?

I have to go, I'm on at 12:00.

Let's see each other later.

I have a client.

I have Nigilda.

Do you have to?

Give and take.

She'll have to do the dirty work.

I couldn't hurt a fly.

She can do it.

And when she finds out?

We'll be far away.

What about him?

He'll be dead

and buried.

And if he follows us?

If he comes back to take revenge?

- The dead can't bite.

- Yes.

Excuse me, are you finished

with the bust, Don Celso?

Yes, thank you.

Excuse me.

I'll leave you the menu.

He could be my uncle, couldn't he?

Yes.

My happiest moments of love

were with you

Which is why my heart regrets

this sweet adieu...

DO I What will you think of me?

That I paid you.

And that I feel less lonely.

But full of hatred.

Do I make you hate?

No,

you're like an aspirin against the hatred.

What's this?

An army-issue gun.

Will you use it to kill?

The gun is in charge.

That's what they say.

The gun rules.

- And you?

- Me?

I wash my hands of it.

Before you've even done it?

Painful events always precede me.

Shut up!

Just be quiet.

What?

Shut up and sing!

Sing?

At your command, my captain.

Who are you talking to?

To the voice coming out of the drain pipe.

They say that's what happens.

That when someone's about to kill,

the voice of the crime

speaks out of the drain pipe.

What a disaster,

nobody's safe here.

Tormented in my misery

I think of you and see what you've been

Just a good woman

Your wild existence

brought warmth into my heart

You were always good to me

I know that you loved me

like you loved nobody else

like you simply cannot love

A four-letter word.

"Love."

No, that's no good.

Don Celso,

do you walk?

I do.

Every day?

Every morning I come back to life and I walk.

How far?

As far as a sling shot.

That must be about a hundred meters.

As far as David's sling shot.

That must be a kilometer, at the most.

That's not far enough.

You have to walk more.

A four-letter word?

"Adam."

- Or "damn."

- No.

Walking makes you strong.

Well, that's life.

When

I go out to walk,

it's for a reason,

a good one.

I bet you go looking for adventures.

Have you finished with the bust, Don Celso?

Yes, thank you.

Excuse me.

I go out looking for words.

Looking for words? That's not bad,

but do you find them?

A few.

Once, not long ago,

I found a good one.

What's so good about that one?

Rhododendron.

Rhododendron? Not bad!

It's a shrub.

It's a fish.

I disagree.

It can't be a fish.

If anything, it's a horse.

Let's play at saying words.

I'll start.

Spring.

Statue.

Armor.

Violet.

Intrigue.

Ermine.

Rhododendron.

Card.

Marble.

I'm exhausted.

Rhododendron.

Be careful, it's got aftershave in it.

Thank you, boss.

That reminds me

of a sonnet I learnt at school,

"Do not let words decide

"what path a poem takes.

"Let words

"fool themes whose flight

"takes them far.

"Take the word 'cockle' and shake it,

"and a dance will drizzle from it.

"Cockle, cockled,

"cuckolded crustacean,

"butterflies of uncertainty.

"And if such capricious forms

are forced on you,

"lock them up.

Black spots of arduous rhymes

"which rhyming, only lie.

"Judicious pleonasms or mottos

"which have light-filled lives

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