“Congratulations, Captain.” Gustavo Astudillo saluted him with his coffee cup. “You handled the situation quite well.”
“Who organized this ‘situation’ as you call it?” Guillén asked.
“Organized? Well, I’m not quite sure. It just happened; you know.” Astudillo reached out to touch the captain’s forearm. He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “You’re not from here, are you, captain?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, the people here … they don’t trust the police. And, with good reason. You … they … strut around here in their starched uniforms and spit-shined shoes, like they’re gods. They disrespect our women, take our fish and our produce without paying. They set up bogus traffic stops but they never write a ticket. If you don’t have enough cash to pay them off….” Astudillo swept his arm i
