Here is the third part of this translation. You can find the first posts in here.
Until finally, after having them before me, I had learned by heart the most hiding gesture.
That bulge out of the forehead; that long and strange nose that looks so much like a stopper! Those long and fallen mustaches; that pointy chin; that limp and agitated hair.
I took a paper and drew the lines that compose the face of the Ramirez dead.
Then, when the drawing was complete, I noted something was missing, that what I had before my eyes wasn’t him; that there was and added detail, one that was complementary and essential. There!
I took my pen again and completed the bust, that if it were from cast, it wouldn’t be out of place in some Academy. Bust, which’s chest had something of a woman.
Then… then I got angry with him. I put him an aureole! An aureole that sticks to the skull with a little nail, like in the churches they stick them to the figures of the saints.
Wonderful figure I was doing of the Ramírez dead.
But, why did this come? I was trying… trying to know why they killed him. Yes, why did they killed him… Then, I made the next logical conclusions:
The Ramírez dead was called Octavio Ramírez (an individual with that nose can not be called in a different way);
Octavio Ramírez was forty two years old:
Octavio Ramírez was short of money;
Octavio Ramírez was terribly dressed, and, in the end, our dead was a foreigner.
With these beautiful facts, his personality was totally rebuilt. There was only missing, well, that of the motive that for me was having more evidence. The intuition was revealing me everything. The only thing that I had to do was, honestly, to rule out all the other possibilities. The first, declared by him, the matter of the cigarette, didn’t even need to be meditated. It was absolutely absurd that an individual was victimized in such a way. He had lied, he had disguised the truth; more than that, murdered the truth, and he had said that, because the other one he didn’t want, he couldn’t say it.
