My father, who had heard everything from his bed, appeared in the dining room in his pajamas and asked in alarm where she was going. “To warn my dear friend Plácida,” she answered. “It isn’t right that everybody should know that they’re going to kill her son and she the only one who doesn’t.” “We’ve got the same ties to the Vicarios that we do with her,” my father said. “You always have to take the side of the dead,” she said.
