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…

end of town…

Nothing hangs together.

my elbow, nodding down to

“Sim. Thank you.”

cup across the table, and he glances at my guide. “Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my page. “You not go this place.

remembering that I ‘can’t speak the language’… “What’s

place very bad. Many bad men there. And

“Woman? Que tipo de bad men

and he leans in close. “One time, since many years, this city….” He sweeps his arms out in circles all around… “…all bad place.

violence,” I

He nods vigorously. “Sim, muita

and again he nods.

it, then slaps

said bad woman too? A

up again, nodding. “Prostitutes, sim. But há

bad woman. What she

not die…” Fingers spread, he rocks his hand… “… Not so many. Bad men gone. Not like other cities. Since two years, bad men here

sounding deeply

Juliana…

her name? What

stares at

again. “The bad woman…

shrugs. “Ninguém sabe.

does she

Again, that blank stare…

hand to my head… “Tall?” … Then

at me, then at my city guide, repeating, “Bad place. Bad people. You not go there. I show you nice place for nice English turista man. You go this

through. “You like o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes? We have many artista famoso there. And we have parques…” He

let him ramble on, nodding as he jabs fingers at places where ‘Nice turista

newspapers, or at least, their English editions. I can read Portuguese, but it doesn’t come so naturally as

newspaper archives, I know what I’m looking

search term… Sao Paulo organised crime… Then as an afterthought, add,

139,000, 000 results, starting with a

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

in another search. Names

results, this time, but some more useful

is enticing recruits with a

the Most Lethal Criminal

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