A Swig of Suspicion

I woke up quite suddenly and noticed that the sun was slightly lower in the sky than it had been. I seemed to have dozed off. Then I remembered where I was and why I was there. I glanced at the dentist's shop and then up the road a short ways where two mules, a young boy, and the more shy of the two men I had seen earlier were plodding along. I had no desire to miss my opportunity to get at least some scrap of writing material out of him and I was far too lazy to try to pursue new avenues of interest. I got up and set off at a quick pace in order to overtake him and his companion.

When I was a stone's throw from them at most the wary man pulled a drink from a case and took a swig. I would not have made much of it save that he took special care to conceal it from the boy. That could only mean one thing. He had some form of alcohol. The Mexican government, along with banning Catholicism which resulted in the killing of countless priests, had also placed a ban on alcohol. Now my interests had been truly piqued.

I hurried to catch up to him. The man was looking down at his case again. He seemed to be missing something. He gave a start when I came up beside him and immediately snapped the case shut. The boy hardly gave me a second glance. I asked him where he was going and upon hearing his answer exclaimed excitedly that our destinations were the same. I began asking him all manner of innocent questions to warm him up. Yet, no matter how many I asked, he barely warmed up at all. I felt like he saw right through my innocuous small talk. I changed tactics. I asked him what he had in his case. He said it was none of my business. I asked him what he would do if I told the authorities that I suspected he had alcohol in it. His face grew ever so slightly pale, but he retained his composure. The man said I had no such proof and I could not go about everywhere just throwing out bold accusations. I gave a well-practiced false laugh and told him I had only been joking. Deciding it was not wise to press the matter at the moment, I diverged to different topics in another unsuccessful attempt to relax his inhibitions (no pun intended).

We soon entered the town where we were to stop. It was getting dark and I thought it unwise to stay with him. I broke off down a side street exclaiming false goodbyes. I had no intention of letting the only interesting and perhaps even scandalous tidbit of news I had had all month slip through my fingers. I quickly circled back round to find this suspicious man once more. After a lengthy and uneventful visit to the mule-boy's home, my suspect set out on his own. He came to a house by the river and appeared to be asking a small girl for a favor. She pointed to a barn. The man walked toward it, casting a glance over his shoulder as he did so. I slipped behind a neighboring house before his eye could catch me. Truly this was a curious thing.