¿Delito o romance?

Los dos policías miraban por la ventana hacia la calle, donde se encontraba el sospechoso, El Tony, paseando lentamente por la plazoleta.

     –Es la primera vez que le veo con camisa —dijo Mar mientras enfocaba con la cámara.

 

     –Parece nervioso —murmuró Raúl.

 

     –A ver si hoy le cogemos. Estoy cansada de pasarme el día aquí.

 

     –Pues yo no estoy descontento con la compañía —respondió él levantándose.

 

     Mar separó su rostro del objetivo de la cámara, para mirar descaradamente el culo de su colega mientras caminaba hacia la cocina. El murmullo de la cafetera se mezcló con los sonidos de la calle mientras Raúl regresaba a su puesto.

 

     –¡Mira! —exclamó ella— esa chica no me suena de nada.

 

Raúl miró a través de sus prismáticos.

 

     –No, no la he visto antes, qué raro.

 

     El Tony y la chica se sentaron en un banco a charlar, Mar los acribillaba a fotografías. La cafetera enmudeció y Raúl se levantó de nuevo.

 

     –Es increíble, —dijo Mar sacudiendo la cabeza— un tío capaz de traficar con drogas y de cargarse a la gente a sangre fría y ahí lo tienes, con las rodillas temblando por una chica.

 

     ‒Las mujeres, que nos traéis de cabeza, ni los narco se libran—. contestó Raúl desde la cocina.

 

     Mar sonrió tras el objetivo de la cámara. La otra pareja continuaba su conversación en el banco. El Tony se acercó a una cafetería y salió con un par de refrescos. Raúl le dejo a Mar su café en el alféizar de la ventana.

 

     –¡Qué galante! —comentó Mar— que suerte tiene, porque a mí nadie me…—Mar guardo silencio mientras miraba absorta el dibujo que había hecho Raúl en la espuma del café.

 

     Abajo, la pareja se había levantado y se alejaba saliendo de la plazoleta. El Tony le tomó la mano a la chica mientras se alejaban.

 

     –Hoy ha merecido la pena estar aquí enclaustrada.

 

Raúl cogió la cámara mirando las fotos que había sacado su compañera.

 

     ‒¿Sólo hoy?

 

     ‒Bueno, tal vez mañana también tengamos romance, no está garantizado.

 

     ‒Eso depende del cristal con que se mire. —Raúl la enfocó con la cámara y disparó— ¿No crees?

 

     ‒Oye, borra la foto o nos echarán la bronca.

 

     ‒Podemos fotografiar un delito, o un romance

 

Raúl hace otra foto, esta vez solo de la cara de Mar.

 

     ‒¿Ah sí? ¿Y qué va a ser?

 

     ‒No depende de mí.

 

Una tercera foto, de sus labios suaves. Mar se levanta y se acerca lentamente.

 

     ‒¿De quién depende entonces?

 

     ‒De la modelo.

Chelo Cadavid,  Febrero 2016

Black & White 5

While she sings, she looks at the tables, trying to distinguish the faces that observe her, looking for someone, and hiding her disappointment behind a mask that hardens at the end of each song. Tonight is different, and she feels the eyes of the detective on her even if she cannot distinguish his face, concealed in the shadows.  She does not let her eyes linger in that direction and continues her song. He is there, and she realises that she breathes more easily, now that everything is in place again. But she cannot stop her disappointed glance, or the resentment that makes her voice quiver for a few seconds until it begins to sound smooth again. Chained cast.

He swallows his whisky to digest the bitterness and self loathing that remain in his throat after seeing her. It’s been a month, four weeks of travelling around, hiding under different names never sleeping in the same place twice. He is back to take her away, to keep her safe. Cast in black.

She does not see him for a few nights, but when the police storm the place on the fourth night and, when one officer ask her quietly to stay, hiding her quickly in a room while everyone is made to leave, she knows that she just has to wait. The officer takes her to the stage room, where the detective asks her to sit down at one of the tables. She pours her resentment over him for leaving without a word, and he bows his head and listens for a few minutes until time rushes him and it is his turn to show her how he has planned her escape, his hope, and their way out.

They kiss, hungry and desperate.

She doesn’t want to lose him. But she can see it, months, maybe years of hiding, of looking over her shoulder. Her dreams shattered. His life ruined. If she stops singing now, she will never sing again. He will never be free. No, she won’t go.

He tries to make her understand that she will never be safe if she stays.

She tells him that she will never be herself again if she goes.

She refuses one last kiss that will shake her resolution and stands quickly, leaving her scarf on the table. Cast in white.

© Chelo Cadavid, August 2015

Black & White 4

She is sitting at one of the tables of the now empty room. The detective speaks to her gently, aware of the bags under her eyes and the little bruise on her cheek, still visible under the make-up. She shakes her head at most questions and he notices in her eyes guilt of the betrayal after years of loyalty. He leaves her his card and for a second his fingers seem to caress hers. Cast in white.

Fade from black, the detective walks through the corridor towards his office, almost unaware to the sounds that surround him on his way across the station. When he opens the door she is sitting in front on his desk. Startled, she turns to look at him rushing to raise the collar of her coat. He apologises for being late and offers her a coffee, she nods and he opens the door again to speak to someone in the corridor. He sits and lights a cigarette, he presents the open box to her but she refuses. The detective studies her face through the smoke. The door opens and a big middle age woman appears with the drinks. After a few sips she seems to be more relaxed. She starts to speak and he listens, never interrupting her, only to hold her hand when her voice fails. Chained cast.

He is not surprised to discover that the debts of the victim tie her to the Small Man, and how his threats chain her for life to his place. He admires her for pushing her fear aside and coming to see him; very few have done that before. He knows about the Small Man and hides his frustration; he knows that he won?t be able to give her the justice she seeks.

She is sitting in front of the mirror; the bruise on the cheek is not as visible anymore. She opens her robe slightly and her neck shows some darker marks around her neck. Her eyes fall on a rectangular box on the table. She opens it and the tears well in her eyes at the sight of the broken necklace and the small note wishing her good luck on her very first public appearance, two years ago. The tips of her fingers touch the name of her agent at the end of the message. Cut.

She jumps at the knock on the door, the voice of the detective calms her quick heartbeats and she covers her neck before telling him to enter. He takes off his hat while he sits next to her in front of the mirror. He smiles, and she feels safe for the first time in days. The detective takes a soft wrapped parcel out of his coat and gives it to her. She looks at him surprised and opens it to discover a silk white scarf. He raises his fingers to brush a little bruise peeking out from her robe. His fingers rise to cup her chin, his dark eyes draw her in and when he tilts his head and his lips meet hers she kisses him back eagerly, her hands holding on to his shoulders trying to keep her saviour close. Chained cast.

Fade from black. His white hat lies on the table while he watches her sing. The tobacco mixes with the whisky on his tongue. The loose scarf covering the front of her neck sways at the rhythm of the music between the swirls of smoke. Cast in white.

He leaves the club and starts walking under the street lights, unaware of the two men following him. Later, he would blame the alcohol. They call him and as he turns a third man appears behind him holding his arms behind his back. He feels the fist on his stomach and his face, then the kicks on his ribs. Now, he appreciates the whisky for the numbness it bestows upon his body before darkness sets over him. Cast in black.

© Chelo Cadavid 2015

Black & White 3

Fade from black. Black long fingers play the white keys of the piano. The blonde sings at the empty room. The small man looks at her smiling from one of the tables; one bodyguard is at the door next to her agent, who looks at her with adoration. He knows that she doesn't want to be there, that she deserves to sing in a better place, for a better audience, to be famous. But now, when she is singing she leaves all behind her, she transforms and gets lost in the words and in the suggestive notes. He knows, from the look of her eyes that she is in a place that he cannot follow, that no one can.

The song finishes and the small man claps his hands breaking the spell, her eyes lose shine and a soft sigh leaves her lips when she gets back. He feels guilty, for trapping himself in a web that has tangled her as well, for making her pay for his mistakes. He can only hope that after a few months they will be free again and he will be able to compensate her. It is his turn to sigh; he seems to be always balancing accounts.

She smiles politely at the approval of her new boss and looks at her agent, her smile becomes warmer; it seems that she has felt his guilt while she was singing. He smiles back at her and she starts singing again after a request from her ominous audience. The lights start playing shadows on her face and her white blouse. Chained cast.

She is singing again, but now she is wearing a black dress and the room is full of people, the smoke roams around the faces that follow her movements, her words, and he knows that she is done it, as always; the audience belongs to her. Cast in white.

The pages of the calendar fall in quick succession. Sweep. Her agent and the small man are speaking in an office, the conversation starts to get agitated and she speaks, trying to calm both men down. They don't listen. The light that hangs from the ceiling shows the square jaw and the determined lips of one of the bodyguards, the shine of the gun. The agent stands up, trying to escape, but it's too late. The sound of two gunshots and her scream fill the room; the dilated pupils of her eyes show terror, while the ones of the agent don't show feelings anymore.

The bodyguard slaps her and takes her out of the room; while another two men get inside. He grabs her by her elbow and the back of the neck dragging her away through the dark corridor. She cries, muffling her sobs with her hands. Cast in black.

© Chelo Cadavid 2015

Black & White 2

The blonde is sitting in front of the mirror starting to take off her necklace. A couple of knocks on the door stop her from her task. She replaces the chocker and her soft lips give approval for the visitor to enter. Blue, tired eyes look at the visitor. Her agent opens the door with a smile on his face and a big bouquet of white roses. The man speaks to the blonde, almost pleading. She looks annoyed, but he offers her his arm and she gets up warily. Cut.

The short train of her black dress follows her movements as they walk together through the corridor of the hotel. The lights reflect on the white doors making the space brighter. They stop in front of one of the rooms and he knocks. The door opens slowly, leaving just enough space for them to enter one after the other. Cut.

The room is one of the most luxurious of the hotel. The eyes of the blonde register the paintings hanging from the walls, the lavish furniture and the bodyguard next to the door. White, soft curtains move gently with the breeze that comes from the balcony. She can distinguish two men with broad shoulders smoking outside, while looking at the street. Cut.

A small man sitting on the sofa is looking at her. His bald head shines with the lights of the room. He gets up and takes her hand kissing it. She pulls her hand away afterwards. He takes her to the sofa where he speaks for a while, always smiling. His tiny black eyes fixed on her. Her fingers keep fidgeting with one of the tears of her necklace. Her agent sends her nervous smiles while chatting with one of the men on the balcony. Cut.

The small man finally lets her go, holding her hand briefly once more. The bodyguard opens the door to them. Both the agent and the blonde walk slowly back to the blonde's room. She sits down and tries to take off her necklace again; the mirror shows that her hands are shaking. The agent stands behind her holding her hands for a second before taking the pendant off. He leaves it on the table in front of the mirror and starts massaging her shoulders but she pushes him away. She shouts at him and he leaves the room while the blonde covers her face with her hands and starts sobbing, the soft waves of her hair caressing her shoulders. The door closes. Cut.

© Chelo Cadavid 2015

Black&White 1

The blonde lies on her side on the piano, her vague gaze changes to suggestive and she starts singing, sitting up slowly. Her velvety voice entices the audience to listen in silence, enchanted by the sensuality of her soft, calculated movements that reverberate in the folds of her white silk dress.

A man enters and sits in the front row, leaving his Fedora hat on the table. He orders a drink and looks at the singer. The blonde continues to enthrall the public while a whisky is brought to table of the newcomer. When the man bends to take his drink, the blonde sees the bulge of the gun under the jacket and the tension becomes visible in her expression, the sudden stiffness of her movements and the light tremble of her voice, but she recovers her composure seconds later. Her voice, her movements and the music merge in a single element. The blonde finishes his song gently, savouring each word. With the last note, the man rises and shoots the singer, one, two, three times showing an impassive face. Cries are heard throughout the room and the crowd panics. The man leaves the building quickly among the flood of people, without losing his composure. He merges with the shadows of the night. Cast in black.

The blank stare of the blonde receives a detective when he enters the autopsy room. The pathologist studies the holes on the white skin. He shows the detective the bullets and the position of the gun when the shooter caught up with the singer. The forensic examiner closes the eyes of the blonde and her blue eyes disappear under her eyelids forever. The detective raises the flaps of his raincoat and goes out into the street. It is dark and a heavy rain falls relentlessly . He remembers while driving. Chained cast.

The blonde and himself are sitting at a table in the room where the blonde sings. They argue. He is trying to convince her that she needs protection while she flatly refuses. She needs to sing, it is her life and does not want anyone to control it. She stands departing the table, leaving behind a white scarf. Cast in white.

The detective parks his car on a street and enters his apartment. He removes his coat and hat soaked by the rain. He serves himself a drink. Sits at his desk and pulls out a white scarf from one of the drawers. He stays very still caressing the scarf with one hand while holding the drink in the other. Cast in black.


© Chelo Cadavid 2014

En blanco y negro

La rubia yace de costado sobre el piano, su mirada vaga se transforma en sugerente y empieza a cantar incorporándose con lentitud. Su voz aterciopelada envuelve a la audiencia que la escucha en silencio, hechizados por la sensualidad de sus movimientos calculados y suaves, que reverberan en los pliegues de su vestido de seda blanco.
Un hombre entra y se sienta en primera fila, dejando su sombrero Fedora sobre la mesa. Pide una copa y mira a la cantante. La rubia continua cautivando al público mientras el whisky llega a mesa del recién llegado. Cuando el hombre se inclina para tomar su bebida, la rubia aprecia el bulto de la pistola bajo la americana y la tensión se hace visible en sus facciones, en la rigidez de sus movimientos y el temblor de su voz, para recuperar la sutileza segundos más tarde. La voz, los movimientos y la música se funden en un solo elemento. La rubia termina su canción lentamente. Con la última nota, él se levanta y dispara a la cantante, una, dos, tres veces mostrando un rostro impasible. Se escuchan gritos por toda la sala y la multitud corre despavorida. El hombre sale del edificio entre la riada de gente, deprisa pero sin perder la compostura. Se pierde en la noche. Fundido en negro.
La mirada vacía de la rubia recibe al detective cuando entra en la sala de autopsias. El forense estudia los agujeros de bala en la piel blanca. Muestra al detective las balas extraídas, mientras le indica la posición del arma cuando los disparos alcanzaron a la cantante. El forense cierra los ojos de la rubia y sus ojos azules desaparecen tras los párpados para siempre. El detective se sube las solapas de su gabardina y sale a la calle. Es de noche y llueve torrencialmente. Mientras conduce recuerda. Fundido encadenado.
Está sentado en una mesa de la sala donde la rubia canta. Discuten. Él está intentando convencerla de que necesita protección mientras ella se niega rotundamente, necesita cantar, es su vida y no quiere que nadie la domine. Se levanta abandonando la mesa, dejando atrás un pañuelo de color claro. Fundido en blanco.
El coche aparca en una calle y el detective sube a su apartamento, se quita la gabardina y el sombrero empapados por la lluvia. Se sirve una copa y saca un pañuelo blanco de uno de los cajones de la mesa de su escritorio. Se sienta con el pañuelo en una mano y la copa en la otra. Fundido en negro.
©Chelo Cadavid 2014
Nota:
Este relato corto lo escribí durante mi curso de escritura creativa, la tarea era escribir un guión cinematográfico. Es un modesto homenaje a H.Bogart, I. Bergman y a una película que nunca pasará de moda. 'Here's looking at you, kid'