One, two, three tones.
-Well?
The voice on the other end froze him. It was raspy, dry. Yes, it sounded like Leticia, but there was something… a metallic undertone, a lack of warmth he didn’t remember, not even in his worst moments of grief.
“Doña Leticia,” Joaquín said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “It’s me, Joaquín. I received your message.”
There was a pause. There was background noise, like heavy traffic or a television playing at full volume.
—Ah, Joaquín. Yes. It’s good that you called.
—Are you okay? There’s a lot of noise.
“I’m… I’m out. I went to the pharmacy,” she replied quickly. Too quickly. “Look, about the money. The bank is charging me a lot of fees on that account. I need you to deposit it this month at Oxxo. To a Saldazo card. I’ll send you a picture.”
Joaquín felt his skin crawl. Óscar had warned him about that. Saldazo accounts were harder to trace, ideal for quick and anonymous transactions.
“Excuse me, Mother-in-law…” Joaquín lowered his voice, turning away so Camila couldn’t hear him from the table. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you. Camila’s been asking about her grandmother. Why don’t I stop by today and drop off the cash? That way you save on the commission and you can say hello to the little girl.”
