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  Praise for The Miracle of Saint Lazarus

  “Readers of The Miracle of Saint Lazarus: A Mystery Twenty Year in the Making will enter, by the hand of Cuban American writer Uva de Aragón, into a world of police and literary mysteries. The paths of her detective Maria Duquesne and my character Mario Conde will intersect in an amusing fictional game that builds one more bridge between two shores of Cuban culture.”

  —Leonardo Padura, Cuban author of Grab a Snake by the Tail and The Man Who Loved Dogs

  “A dead man. A missing baby. A few shadowy characters. And a mother who has never stopped looking for her daughter. With these elements, Uva de Aragón builds a fast-faced novel that has a strong sense of place (you’ll feel you are in Miami, drinking Cuban coffee) and nuanced, sympathetic characters. Plus, a healthy serving of Cuban food. When detective Maria Duquesne is assigned a cold case, she chooses a young assistant, Ivan Fernandez, to help her with the investigation. Its twists and turns take them back to the Mariel Boatlift days, with a hop to today’s New York. This is a solid mystery with an impeccable ending that will hook you from the first line.”

  —Teresa Dovalpage, professor of Spanish and ESL, New Mexico Junior College, novelist, and author of, among others, the detective novel Death Comes in through the Kitchen

  “Uva de Aragón’s The Miracle of Saint Lazarus chronicles the extraordinary growth of the Hispanic—and particularly the Cuban—population in Miami-Dade County since the 1960s. The author skillfully constructs the character of the Cuban American detective Maria Duquesne and follows her quest for clues to solve the ‘cold case’ of a 1992 car accident and the mysterious disappearance of a five-week-old baby. As part of the background for her main storyline, Aragón lovingly describes the traditional food habits, Spanish language, religious devotions, family relations, and other cultural practices that distinguish Miami as the capital of Cuban exile. As a result, the novel can be read as an insightful portrayal of a changing, complex, and diverse community as well as a whodunit.”

  —Jorge Duany, director of the Cuban Research Institute, Florida International University

  “The Miracle of Saint Lazarus: A Mystery Twenty Years in the Making is Uva de Aragón’s second major work of fiction appearing in English translation. It follows on the heels of her widely acclaimed novel, The Memory of Silence, and, given the mastery of her writing and her artful exploration of the mysteries of human existence, it most certainly will help grow her ever-increasing circle of readers. The Miracle of Saint Lazarus skillfully retains all the major elements of a finely structured whodunit thriller. Yet it is more than a crime novel. Deeply anchored in Miami’s richly diverse Hispanic culture, the book offers a compelling study of the exilic condition and the pain of banishment, dislocation, and dispossession.

  “While trying to unravel a murder mystery and the inexplicable disappearance of a baby girl, Maria Duquesne, a second-generation Cuban detective, does more than solve a cold case. Her detective work compels her to examine her own life and identity, as well as recognize the power of witness testimony. The investigation also reveals how people intent on retaining control over their own lives were compelled to uproot and start again in a new land replete with different practices, customs, language, and values, and it shows how essential it is for exiles, refugees, and immigrants to communicate to subsequent generations their first-hand experiences of totalitarian repression. Impressively translated into English by Kathleen Bulger-Barnett and Jeffrey C. Barnett, Uva de Aragón’s novel is a timely meditation on otherness and empathy.”

  —Asher Z. Milbauer, professor in the Department of English and director of The Exile Studies Certificate Program, Florida International University

  “Uva de Aragón debuts in the genre of detective novels with Maria Duquesne, a rich, colorful character which will surely become legendary in the history of Cuban American literature. Duquesne, although universal, maintains her cubanidad with her love for expresso coffee, a great sense of humor, and her deep family values. The Miracle of Saint Lazarus is an excellent mystery novel with all the traditional elements of the genre, plus the originality of delving into the life of the city of Miami with its kaleidoscope of nationalities.”

  —Marlene Moleón, publisher and editor, Eriginal Books

  “If The Miracle of Saint Lazarus: A Mystery Twenty Year in the Making is published in English, it probably will become a bestseller, and, even more, be turned into a series or a movie. It is a whodunit or mystery novel that grips the reader from the first page to the last one.”

  —Olga Connor, Journalist, El Nuevo Herald

  THE

  MIRACLE

  OF

  SAINT

  LAZARUS

  A MYSTERY TWENTY YEARS

  IN THE MAKING

  Uva de Aragón

  Translated by

  Kathleen D. Bulger-Barnett and Jeffrey C. Barnett

  Coral Gables

  Copyright © 2019 by Uva de Aragón.

  Published by Mango Publishing Group, a division of Mango Media Inc.

  © Uva de Aragón, 2016. El Milagro de San Lázaro: Un misterio de más de veinte años. Eriginal Books.

  © Uva de Aragón, Jeffrey C. Barnett, Kathleen D. Bulger-Barnett, 2018.

  The Miracle of Saint Lazarus: A Mystery Twenty Years in the Making.

  By Uva de Aragón. Trans. by Kathleen Bulger-Barnett and Jeffrey C. Barnett.

  Author photo credit: Wenceslao Cruz

  Cover Design: Jayoung Hong

  Cover Photo/illustration: Filipchuk Oleg/Shutterstock

  Layout & Design: Jayoung Hong

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  The Miracle of Saint Lazarus: A Mystery Twenty Years in the Making

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication number: 2019944229

  ISBN: (p) 978-1-64250-124-7 (e) 978-1-64250-125-4

  BISAC category code FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Mario Conde, for inspiring me

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22


  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Day 1—Monday, November 2, 2015

  When she arrived at police headquarters, Maria immediately noticed that something strange was in the air. She had a sixth sense about these things. Even though everything seemed normal, a thick cloud hung over her colleagues who were glued to their monitors. The hellos were scarce; she knew she wasn’t mistaken.

  “Any fresh meat?”

  For years she hadn’t had any other choice but to adapt to the police jargon. At first, it made her sick to her stomach to refer to a homicide victim, a person who had just died, as “fresh meat,” but after so many years, it had become perfectly natural.

  The only response she got was a few negative shakes from some heads. What will be, will be, she thought. Indeed, it didn’t take long. As soon as she put up her purse and even before she had sat down at her desk, she heard:

  “Mariita, my office, now.”

  It was the thundering voice of her boss. He had been her father’s subordinate for years, and she had known him since she was a little girl.

  It had always annoyed her when he called her by the diminutive “Mariita”—typically reserved for relatives and childhood friends—and not the more formal “Maria,” if nothing else to maintain the appearance of a professional relationship, which in fact they had despite the sentimental ties.

  The chief seemed upset. That became clear when she noticed the evidence that he had stuffed himself with meat pies from the corner bakery, disregarding his persistent efforts not to put on weight and to keep himself fit.

  “Have a seat, young lady.”

  The familial tone put on her guard. This one wants a favor, she thought.

  “Look, I’m sorry for what I’m about to ask, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to. Captain Rios has presented us with a list of unsolved cases in Miami-Dade County that they want to reopen for some reason or another. Rather than reassigning them to the original detectives, he wants other people to work on them so they can offer a fresh perspective. For the moment, he’s given us two cases. I don’t know if there’s a link between them. I’ve put all the files they brought us in the conference room. I want you to be in charge. Choose whoever you want to help you and, once you see what’s involved, let me know what else you’re going to need. You know our budget’s tight, but I want us to solve this as quickly as possible.”

  Six foot tall and very fair skinned, with red hair with an occasional touch of gray and eyes as blue as beads, Lawrence Keppler was an American who had gone native, as they say. Not only did he speak Spanish perfectly and loved eating Cuban food and playing dominos, but he even talked with his hands like Cubans, and he spoke so passionately about the Castros that one would think they had confiscated ten factories from him or executed his best friends. The reality was that he had never been to Cuba, but having been born and raised in Miami and having been married for over twenty years to a Cuban had an inescapable effect on him.

  Fifteen years earlier, Maria’s father had retired, and Keppler would probably do the same before long. He always referred to Don Patricio as his mentor and even went to see him occasionally to ask for advice when he had a difficult case, perhaps because he really needed help from a former detective or maybe just so her father would feel useful. She thought it was cute that he included the courteous title of “Don.” Larry, as his friends called him, had learned the expression when he spent a semester studying in Seville perfecting his Spanish, and it was his way of showing respect to his former boss. What was certain was that her father loved it when they asked him for advice.

  She had never worked on a “cold case” before, and the thought of sitting there, reading old, yellow files didn’t seem very appealing. Nevertheless, Maria hadn’t agreed to the assignment out of friendship. Even if he had started out as if he were asking for a “favor,” it was a direct order.

  She understood what the long faces of her colleagues meant that morning. Everyone was afraid they’d get assigned to one of the cases. Once in the conference room, she nearly lost it. Seeing the dates when the crimes had taken place, she was dumbfounded. She took a deep breath, but she had to start somewhere. She opened the first box. She only found some plastic bags and a thin file. It didn’t deal with a homicide but an accident. On September 19, 1992, a car driven by thirty-one-year-old Raimundo Alberto Lazo had fallen into a canal on 8th Street at 177th Avenue, near Krome Avenue, and its occupant had died. The file included photographs of the car removal and of the cadaver. She also found a death certificate and a coroner’s report that determined the death to be an accident. The plastic bags contained the clothing and shoes worn by the deceased as well as a few personal effects that for some reason hadn’t been returned or claimed by the family. For the moment, nothing seemed out of the ordinary except that there was very little information and that the case had been closed hastily. Then she reread the date and understood why.

  The accident had taken place only a few weeks after Hurricane Andrew. The police were having a hard time coping. Many officers had lost their homes, but even then the majority were working sixteen and eighteen hour shifts in an effort to help the victims, prevent looting and vandalism, direct traffic, and impose a seven o’clock curfew. There were areas without electricity for more than a month. Similar accidents with people trapped in their cars submerged in canals were frequent in Miami, so it didn’t surprise her that they hadn’t pursued the investigation further in a such a moment.

  She was about to close the file when something caught her eye. Although the old Polaroid was blurry, you could clearly see a child’s car seat in the back. She kept on reading until she found what she was looking for. a five-week-old baby had also been in the car, but they had never found the body.

  She went out to get a bottle of water before deciding to open the second box of files. All of sudden she got that feeling in the pit of her stomach that comes from a new case, when you realize you’re tackling a puzzle; a reality that had been dashed in an instant, and now it was up to her to find the cause and how it had happened.

  She was just about to head back to the conference room when her cell phone rang.

  It was her father.

  “So whatcha doing, mija?”

  “Just here playing on the seesaw, Papi.”

  Her father chuckled as he always did when she used some old Cuban saying.

  “So, you’re taking it easy… No new case?”

  “No…”

  “If you’re just goofing off, you could go to lunch with your old man.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say I’m goofing off. I’m looking over some unsolved cases they want to reopen. Besides, I’m on a diet and I’d prefer to get a yogurt.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking strawberry.”

  “No, come on, I mean, is the case interesting?”

  “I don’t know, Papi, I just started looking over the documents. Let’s talk later. Behave yourself.”

  “What choice do I have?”

  She headed back into the conference room and opened the second box. She found a bag with the car seat, the birth certificate, a couple of photos of the newborn, and documentation about the search for the body, the false alarm when they had found other remains, the order to close the case, and the various attempts by the mother to reopen it, which until now had been unsuccessful. She wondered what must have happened for them to finally reopen it now that twenty-three years had passed. She went over to the computer and searched through the file where she fo
und a short note:

  “Mother asserts having seen missing daughter at Heat game.”

  She also did a Google search on the girl. She found out about the many efforts carried out by Gladys Elena Lazo to find her daughter because she was convinced that she hadn’t died in the accident. She had hired private detectives and sought assistance from associations dedicated to searching for missing children. Over the years, they had made three or four sketches of what the child would have looked like at a given time. The last one, made two years ago, showed a young brunette with large eyes and a fixed gaze. Suddenly, that small, missing child took on life. Was it possible that she hadn’t died? And if she had survived, where had she been all these years? And how to even go about looking for her?

  She grabbed the phone and dialed the most recent number in the file.

  “Hello, is Gladys Elena Lazo there?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Officer Maria Duquesne. Is there a convenient time when I could come by and see you at your house?”

  Chapter 2

  Day 1—Monday, November 2, 2015

  Even though she hadn’t planned to go out for lunch, she immediately agreed to do so given the urgent tone in the voice that was speaking to her:

  “We have to see you right away!”

  A rolling stone gathers no moss, she told herself as she put her cell phone into her purse, got her keys out, and headed out into the midday sun.

  What could possibly be up with these crazy old women who need to see me so urgently and with all this mystery? The crazy old women in fact were Lourdes and Yolanda, her mother’s schoolmates from a childhood long ago in Havana.

  They were waiting for her at the most obscure table in the restaurant. Rather than one of the places where they typically met, they chose a small, half-empty restaurant in a seedy strip mall in the Sweetwater area. The surprise must have registered on her face because Yolanda quickly blurted out: