“Ana’s birthday, correct. Nitro came up to me. Said he was a friend of a friend. I figured he wanted something and brushed him off. He tried a few more times—and then that whole screen door episode with Jack. Everyone knows Jack and I don’t get along. So what does Nitro do to get my attention?”

“Picks a fight with Jack…” Elizaveta said.

“And it worked,” Jesus continued. “After you took him home, Pita, Nitro and I spent the rest of the night laughing about Jack. We hit it off because of our mutual dislike for Jack. I gave him my number, told him to ring me some time.”

Elizaveta’s mind was spinning in overdrive. She remembered perfectly well the next time Nitro called Jesus. It had been the following Saturday morning. He had tickets to a bullfight in the Plaza México and invited Jesus and Elizaveta to join him. Jesus, a huge bullfighting fan (this was no secret to anybody that knew him), promptly accepted the offer. “But why?” she said. “What was the big act for? What did he want?”

Jesus hesitated. Then: “He was investigating the company.”

“What!” Pita said.

Jesus shrugged. “Some stuff’s been going on—”

“What ‘stuff,’ Jesus? That bribery probe? Is that still going on? You said—”

“It doesn’t matter, Pita. Everything’s fine. Everything’s taken care of. It will all work itself out—”

“So you killed him? You killed Nitro because he was investigating you? Oh my God, Jesus! Oh my God—”

Jesus’s face transformed. “He used me!”

“You killed him!”

“He was a piece of shit, Pita! He used you too! Yeah, he did. Come on, why do you think he put the moves on you? He was undercover. He was going to start something up with the sister of the guy he’s investigating because he’s in love with her?”

Pita blinked, as if she had been slapped.

Elizaveta felt dizzy, surreal. The scope of the deception! And she’d never suspected a thing. “Okay, Jesus,” she said quickly. “Maybe you are right. But we can work this out. We’ll figure this out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out. Jack’s going to tell the cops I killed Nitro. Proof or not, if they suspect me, they’ll put it together.”

“Shooting him won’t make situation better.”

“Of course it will,” he snapped. “There’s a bona fide killer on this island.” He glanced over his shoulder at María, who stood statute still, watching them in silence. “She killed Miguel. She killed Nitro. She killed Jack—”

“I’ll tell them, Jesus,” Elizaveta said defiantly. “I’ll tell the police everything.”

“No you won’t, cariño,” he said. “Because she’s going to kill you too.”

4