Dossier - short story - Latin America: Private Eyes & Time Travelers

"As always," he ventured.

"Then kindly solve this riddle for me. I've got a bit of a headache and anyway, like it or not, I'm tangled up in this. I'd rather keep my participation to an absolute minimum, though for obvious reasons I can't be a simple onlooker."

He returned the man with the carnation's smile and ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. The girl all the while had been wanting to say something, and now, her pencil poised, indicating an attitude of extreme alertness, widened her eyes and rigidly shook her head.

"I don't think I'm the best man to solve this ... little mystery," he said to buy time. "There are men here with a proven track record of intelligence, I would venture to say ... of shrewdness."

"You're always so modest," said the man in a too-affectionate tone. "But you've spent the afternoon without saying a word and I wouldn't want the afternoon to end as if you'd been absent the whole time. Remember that T.J. is quite the stickler for rules, and even though its only a minor transgression, you know it's not prudent not to show up in the minutes."

"Of course, that wasn't my intention. I simply wanted to go on record that, in my opinion, there are more capable people here for shedding light on the subject," he said, rotating the ashtray.

T.J., he thought, who the hell is T.J.?

Up to that point he had thought that the man with the carnation was some oil or steel baron. Someone who embodied devastating power, and suddenly here was T.J., just his initials, like in the movies, doubtless some kind of captain of industry that did not even live in the country. Luckily the man with the carnation had shown a certain concern for his career, whatever that might be, in that company of sorts, or powerful firm. That was something that he should bear in mind from then on. It wasn't a matter of life or death to him what happened between those four walls. Doubtless he had won favor, he probably had plans, a future. Regardless, he was a young man and somehow I have earned these people's trust. I am well dressed, I'm wearing a gold Rolex on my wrist and the man with the carnation treats me with distinction, and on intimate terms. Now he was understanding the fear of having his sudden memory loss betray itself; who was going to trust an individual like that? But he felt optimistic; nevertheless I'm a clever man and I'll get out of this jam just fine. From one moment to the next the memories will begin returning, at least I've already remembered my name. It's just a passing indisposition, a worry, too much work.

"What's the matter with you, Ricardo?" asked the man with the carnation. "What, you don't want to help me, you who are always so willing to?"

"I was thinking ..., about this whole thing," he hastened to say. "I was thinking that the best thing probably would be ... take it from the beginning, I mean, let Arozmendi clarify for us the point up to which he and the dossier hadn't been separated."

"I agree. I think your approach is promising. If T.J. were here, he wouldn't do it any other way," assented the man with satisfaction. "Alright, Arozmendi, you want us to be kept waiting all night?"