The Savage Detectives

by Roberto Bolaño

The girls with Lupe were still leaning on the hood of the Cadillac and their eyes rested on María, scrutinizing her calmly. They hardly looked at me. “I thought you died,” said María all of a sudden. The callousness of the remark stunned me. María’s tact has these gaping holes. “I’m plenty alive. But I almost died. Didn’t I, Carmencita?” “That’s right,” said the girl called Carmencita, and she continued to study María. “It was Gloria who bit it. You met her, didn’t you? Mana, what a fucking mess, but no one could stand that cunt.” “I never met her,” said María with a smile on her lips. “The cops are the ones who nailed her,” said Carmencita. “And has anyone done anything about it?” said María. “Nelson,” said Carmencita. “Do what? The bitch knew too much, she was in way over her head, there was nothing anyone could do.” “Well, how sad,” said María. “Say, how’s school?” said Lupe. “So-so,” said María. “You still got that hot stud running after you?” María laughed and shot me a glance.