The meal goes smoothly enough, albeit with a lot of negotiating the rapids and under-currents of good manners and courtesy.

Beth’s pregnancy proves a safe topic of discussion, with none of the pitfalls and booby traps lying in wait if we talk about anything closer to home. Mitch is a star, repeatedly shifting the conversation back onto the imminent birth of Beth’s and Richard’s new son.

Later, in a quiet moment with Michael, “My apologies,” I say. “Tact isn’t one of Georgie’s virtues. It never was.”

His answering smile is wry. “Like father, like daughter.”

*****

Klempner

Two weeks and… nothing…

Not a whisper. Nothing I can find.

Sitting in the corner of Antonio’s, I’ve spent a pleasant afternoon, but frustration gnaws at me. Hickman reports that all is well, but…

Has Juliana given up?

?

Not fucking likely…

Antonio’s cafe has become somewhat of a routine. Misgivings nudge me, reminding me that I shouldn’t develop such habits…

… Making myself vulnerable…

But, with nothing to go on, what the hell else can I do?

On the other hand, there has to be some reason for the address to have been used in Finchby’s invoices.

Perhaps I just need to wait.

But what am I waiting for?

How long can I keep doing this?

Still, in the meantime, while I wait for my mystery to unravel, the old man is genuinely good company. And also, a mine of local information.

Finishing a cup of the excellent coffee, I consult a local guide, comparing my list of addresses to a local map, looking for some pattern, seeking inspiration…

Access to road…

Access to the ports…

Whereabouts of police stations…

to the poorer end of town… the red-light

Nothing hangs together.

to my empty coffee cup. “Mais café,

“Sim. Thank you.”

“Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my page. “You not go this place. Is bad place for

I ‘can’t

very bad. Many bad

ears prick. “Woman? Que tipo

chair across to sit close by me. His voice lowers and he leans in close. “One time, since many years, this city….” He sweeps his arms out in circles all around… “…all bad place. Much…” He falters then holds out two fingers making a Bang

I

He nods vigorously. “Sim,

again he nods. Then I mime injecting myself…

Drogas.” He leans closer yet. “…And the womans para prostitutas.” He takes the book from me, closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor. And bad men.” He wags a finger at

said bad woman

down, then up again, nodding. “Prostitutes, sim. But

bad woman. What she

many. Bad men gone. Not like other cities. Since two years, bad men here again. And

sounding deeply

Juliana…

What

stares at

“The bad woman… A

“Ninguém

mystery? What does she

Again, that blank stare…

to my head… “Tall?” … Then lower… “Short? Alta? Baixo? Loiras?

repeating, “Bad place. Bad people. You not go there. I show you nice place for nice English turista

up the guide, riffling through. “You like o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes?

fingers at places where ‘Nice turista

their English editions. I can read Portuguese, but it doesn’t come so naturally as reading in English. I spend more of my time interpreting the language

newspaper archives, I know

term… Sao Paulo

screen blinks: 139,000, 000 results,

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

tap in another search. Names of criminal gangs

results, this time, but some more useful

largest gang is enticing recruits with a

the Most Lethal Criminal

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255