Soledad zigzagged toward a walnut chest of drawers. From the bottom one, she removed something—a black velvet pouch—and handed it to me. Inside a gold case was a pocket watch. The case, engraved with vines and flowers, was somewhat tarnished. I wound the watch and the hands started to move around a series of Roman numerals.

“Where did you find this?” I asked.

“Hidden under Franco’s mattress.”

“This looks expensive,” I said. “Like real gold.”

She nodded.

I turned it over. The brand was engraved on the back: Bolivar e Hijos, Guayaquil. 1911.

“How do you think your son got this?”

“I don’t know. I’d never seen it before yesterday.”

Could this have anything to do with that woman he was so in love with? Was this part of the payment for his services? Only a few people in this town had the kind of money to afford this watch.

“Doña Soledad, was your son close to Catalina Lafont?”

“La Santa and my son? Oh, no, perhaps as children, but not lately. Since the accident, Catalina hadn’t come to see him once. The only times I see her in Vinces is for mass on Sundays and during the festivities. Why do you ask?”

“Did anybody else come to see him after the accident?”

“Just the workers from the plantation. Franco didn’t have many friends.”

“Any women ever come by?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Would you let me borrow this?” I asked. “I think I have an idea.”

She hesitated. Of course, she would doubt me, I was a stranger to her. I removed Cristóbal’s pocket watch, which was also valuable and newer, and handed it to her.

“I’ll leave you this in exchange. Please don’t think I’m trying to shortchange you. I believe this watch may help us figure out what happened to Franco.”

Soledad, whose hair had grown grayer and whose skin seemed more ashen in a matter of days, sat down.

“Take it,” she said. “You’re the only person in this rotten town who’s shown any interest in helping me anyway. If I weren’t so poor and weak, I would track my son down myself.”

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 35

With the Fiestas de Vinces coming up, tracking the history of Franco’s watch wasn’t as easy as I’d originally thought it would be. I’d planned to go to Guayaquil with the excuse of visiting Aquilino. In reality, I would pay a visit to the watchmakers, Bolivar and Sons, but I had no luck finding transportation at this busy time of the year.