I gave the last bite of my second tamale to a flea-riddled mutt that had been eyeing it hungrily, and I was thinking about getting a third when the vendor who tried to sell me his sister spotted me and came over.

“My man!” he said, sitting next to me. “How’s the tamale? Good, yes? You like Mexican food?”

“I’m not a tourist,” I told him. “I live here.”

“You live here? Where?”

I wasn’t going to tell him my neighborhood, as it was one of the pricier ones in Mexico City, so I simply told him the name of the general borough.

“So what you do?” he asked.

“Listen, I don’t want to buy anything.”

He smiled. “No problem. No problem. But where’re your friends? Maybe they want a watch? I have Cartier too. Anything they want.”

I stood and continued along the boardwalk again. The tout caught up to me.

“So you and your friends going down the canals, huh?” he said. “You need a boat? I get you good price.”

“My friend already organized one.”

“Your friend, huh?” I felt him looking at me like he didn’t believe me, or like I was brushing him off, which I was.

“Yeah, my friend. He’s filming that island with the dolls. He’s organized everything. The boat. The tickets. We don’t need anything.”

“You go Isla de las Muñecas?” he said.

I realized I’d said too much, and I was planning to ignore the tout, keep walking, but the expression on his face caused me stop. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or anger.

“What?” I asked.

“You go Isla de las Muñecas?” he repeated.

“No,” I said. “We’re not going to it. We’re going around it.” I made a curlicue gesture with my finger. “Take some pictures, come back. Just tourists, okay?” I started away, but his hand seized my wrist tightly.

“You don’t go there.”

“Let go of me.”

Passersby were looking curiously at us, and I was starting to get angry myself. I tried pulling my arm free from his grip. He wouldn’t let go.

“Why you film there?”

“Let go of me.”

“Why you film there?”

“Last warning.”

“You go,” he said, lowering his voice to a threatening whisper, “you die.”

I stared at the guy, wondering if maybe he was crazy. Perspiration had popped out on his forehead. The cheerfulness was gone from his face, replaced with tension. He black eyes held mine.

My cell phone rang, breaking the terse moment. I yanked my arm free and took the phone from my pocket.

“Yeah?” I said, moving again, blending into the flow of traffic on the boardwalk.

“Where are you?” It was Pita.

“I just got something to eat.”

“Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“Everyone’s here? Where? I didn’t know where you went.”