“Right,” I said, putting down my coffee cup, and rising to my feet. “Let’s just hope that one or the other of those reptiles has had sense enough to eat that old rooster that Sanchez keeps. That damn thing pecks everyone who goes near it.” “Never mind that,” Norman said, growing exasperated. “Just get over there quick, and check in with me the minute you have something to report.” “Right,” I said, making for the door. “Now you listen to me, Ed Hernandez,” Mary Borrego said, showing me skinny eyes and shaking her finger in my face, “I knew you and Norman when both of you were in diapers, so I don’t want to hear no nonsense. I was sitting right here on my front porch this morning when those lagartos came up from the ford, and I know what I saw because I saw them with my eyes, and as you can see for yourself, I don’t wear no glasses. They were big, those things, seven or eight feet, each of them, and quick as you can wink, they lunged into El Viejo’s chickens and ate two of them. They ate the brown hen that lays the big eggs and that old rooster that pecks everybody.” “That might count as a civic improvement,” I quipped. “I’m not counting no civic improvements,” Mary Borrego snapped, “and you’d better not either! Those lagartos ain’t doing no civic improvements at all, and you’d better get out there and catch them before they eat something else, like one of Lester Smith’s kids.” Lester Smith, the only Mormon in town, had a large family already numbering ten children, with one more on the way. “They didn’t return to the river?” I said, registering some surprise. “No they didn’t,” Mary Borrego said forcefully. “They moved straight up into town!” “Norman,” I said, as soon as I put through the call, “Mary says that they ate El Viejo’s brown hen and the old rooster. ” “To hell with that rooster!” Norman shouted over the phone. “Where are they now?” “I don’t know,” I said. “Mary said that they didn’t go back to the river. She says that they moved on up Main and into San Miguel.” “Oh, shit!” Norman said. “All right, Ed, here’s what I want you to do. Ditch the car. Get out there on foot and see if you can’t find them. Look for tracks. Those are mostly dirt streets down there, so you ought to be able to find something. Meanwhile, I’ll call Alex and Steve and get them out looking too, and in a case like this, I don’t think those guys from La Migra will mind giving us a hand. I’ll also call State Fish and Game, and I’ll have Lupe get out the word to the radio station. Any kids you see heading for school, send them home. Now, get cracking quick, and let me know the minute you find something.” I hadn’t gone a block up the street before I found something. What I found was little Roberto Alvarado sitting about ten feet off the ground in the crotch of Ace Popplecourt’s elm tree.
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