A Mexican Standoff

The following story may have errors of accuracy in regards to Mexican references, where I chose vocabulary to serve the story. That said, I was inspired by the beautiful culture and language.

Miguel Cartez glanced at the shipping bill of lading the policeman held out in front of him. A fly buzzed around the light bulb of his Italian luxury banker’s desk lamp. The policeman’s black cap with the México Policia Federal insignia gulped the whole of what looked to be his narrow forehead, and crystalline beads of sweat rolled down the man’s smooth cheeks. Miquel put the bill, face-side up on the leather framed green blotter on his desktop, displaying his manicured squarish fingernails, and the smoothness of his scented hands. He leaned back in his black leather cushioned chair, steepled his fingers, and bowed his head, as if in dismissal of the other man’s presence, no greater an annoyance than the winged insect, also an anomaly in the room. 

“Senor Cartez, as you can see, the Bill of Lading itemizes ninety-five crates of coconuts, twenty, no, that was scratched out…. twenty-three crates of avocados, thirteen crates of hemp rope…” 

Miquel’s head remained bowed, and his fingertips lightly pressed together. 

“Who sent you, officer?” He lifted his head, knowing under his firm eyebrows, his deep brown eyes were unyielding and augmented by his bass voice, cultivated by his classical education at Oxford. Three cushioned leather chairs in the King Edwardian style were available, but he’d left the policeman standing and squinting in the harsh rays that emanated from the green conical lamp, turned just so, to make the man a specimen for his inspection. 

“I am responding to a citizen’s concern, Senor Cartez. Under section 1223, I am sanctioned to investigate what may be an irregularity.” The man blinked into the light and his adam’s apple fluttered in his throat. 

“So Captain Antonio Mancheritos didn’t deploy you? He is my very good friend. His family stayed at my villa in Alcupulco.” He leaned forward, his chest broad from his predawn workouts, and rested the weight of his arms on the sides of the blotter where the bill lay. Fixing the officer with his unstinting focus, he aimed the beaky nose in his crosshairs. 

“All officers defer to the captain with regard to my personal and business operations? I will be in contact with him, and I’m sorry to say, your position will be in peril, unless I put in a good word for you.” He picked up the bill of lading and twirled it between his fingers, and then rolled it cigar shape on the green blotter, all the while keeping his eyes on the officer, who was holding up his hand to block the light from his eyes. Miguel Cartez waited; after all, he was a man whose business of millions ran like clockwork, even in his absence. After all, he employed personal trainers to keep him in shape, unlike millions of his countrymen, who awoke in the early hours to toil and eke out a living. After all, he was not required to give this man his time, and yet here he was, with infinite patience, because a man of lesser means, of lesser character, would not be so indulgent. The fly stood still in the circle of light on the desk for a moment and then hopped onto the bill of lading. 

“Senor,” the officer picked up the bill of lading, and shook off the insect that moved toward Miguel Cartez, who leaned back and waved it away. “Captain Antonio Mancheritos did inform me of your arrangement, but you see the Academy has instructed me when receiving conflicting orders to go with the more conservative, and so, as you can see, I am here. Now, if you don’t mind, this bill of lading requires some explanation.”

“Sit!” Miquel Cartez forced the word out in a quick exhale. 

“I’m fine, Senor” The policeman pulled out a notepad and a pen from his breast pocket. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get your statement now.” He clicked his pen and held it poised above the pad.

Miquel Cartez scratched his collar and loosened his tie. “Come, come now, there’s plenty of time.” He stood up and walked around to a Louis XIV cabinet and opened a marquetry door, and pulled out two brandy snifter glasses and a bottle of Remy Martin Louis XO, and poured. An amber tear slipped onto one rim and coursed down the outside. That glass he turned and took for himself, and he crossed the floor to stand in front of the police officer, whose eyebrows raised and disappeared into his police cap. 

“Here, here, a drink, young officer.” He proffered the glass, and smiled, satisfied the policeman’s eyes were switching back and forth, while his gaze remained steady. 

“Thank you Senor, but you must know I can’t accept,” the adam’s apple bobbed. 

Miquel Cartez felt his jaw clench while he smiled and held the glass out. “Yes, yes, I know the rules. I, myself, started out as a young police officer, as well, and then I, well found there was money to be made, and you see, here I am.” He waved his hand around the room. “I’ll wager this is the finest office you’ve seen.”

The officer gave a slow nod, shifting on his feet. 

“You’re just about the spitting image of me, when I was your age, spanking new out of the Academy.” How gauche and naïve he’d been, when he’d vowed to uphold the law through his career, and so fervent had he been, he’d vowed to uphold it throughout his life. “Come, come, one small drink won’t make a difference.” He pushed the glass in the officer’s face, but the officer shook his head and held up his notepad. 

“What did you say your name was?”

“Officer Carlos Mandosas”

“Officer Carlos Mandosas. My affairs are, to say the least, complicated. My businesses, my emporium hires, pretty much the entire town. You say your name is Mandosas. Why, I’m sure I employ your parents.” 

“Yes, my parents, and my uncles and aunts and most of my cousins.”

Senor Miquel Cartez nodded his head. “Yes, that is so. And how is it you went into the Police Academy?” 

“My abuela sir,” 

“Hmm, your abuela?” He placed the two glasses back on the credenza.

“My brothers wanted to go as well, but my abuela, she told my brothers they were too easily corrupted, and would do a disservice to the family.”

“Ahh, I see. He picked up the two glasses. Let us give a toast to your venerable abuela. Not on the job, of course, but during a little hiatus, an early siesta from your workday.” He smiled broadly.

“No, senor, but again I need to keep on track.”

Facing away from the officer, Senor Miquel Cartez emptied both glasses, and wiped the back of his hand on his mouth, and put the empty glasses inside the cabinet. He turned to his desk and squinted at the fly hovering and then lighting onto the desk. 

Senor slammed his hand down on the fly hovering above his desk, his palm heavy on the solid wood, the thud of his hand followed by silence, and then a volley of sharp angry buzzes erupted from the fly. 

“Officer Mandosas, your abuela is wise. You can take the path I have taken, and gain all this,” he waved his hand around again, but the path you are on, that I was once on is no longer available to me. 

“Sí Senor Cartez.” The officer nodded, and clicked his pen above his ready notepad, where the fly had landed in silent accord.