At first, Cary thought El Yucatango was guiding him toward one of the big houses on the hillside. El Yucatango's directions had him driving the taxi straight for one of the biggest, in fact, with pale yellow walls and red terra cotta rooftops.
But before they reached the gate in front of the place, El Yucatango told Cary to turn right. A few blocks' worth of mansions later, and they pulled into their true destination.
The lettering in the wrought iron arch above the entrance read, "Cementerio de San Jacobo."
"Is this a short cut or something?" said Cary, driving under the arch.
"To the afterlife, maybe." El Yucatango seemed agitated and fiddled with his bushy beard. "Just keep going, Beacon."
"Does your brother live near here?" said Cary.
"Not far," said El Yucatango. "Turn left
