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…

the poorer end of town… the red-light district…

Nothing hangs together.

elbow, nodding down to

“Sim. Thank you.”

a finger

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

very bad. Many bad men there. And badder

prick. “Woman? Que tipo de bad

“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

violence,” I say.

vigorously. “Sim, muita violência. Muito

he nods. Then I mime injecting myself… “Cocaína…?

it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor. And bad men.” He wags a finger at me. “You no go

bad woman

again, nodding. “Prostitutes, sim.

woman.

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

sounding

Juliana…

woman, her name? What does she

at

bad woman… A mulher

upheld, he shrugs. “Ninguém sabe. Ela é

mystery? What does she look

Again, that blank stare…

head… “Tall?” … Then lower… “Short?

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

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

jabs fingers at places where

at least, 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 than I do understanding

archives, I know

tap in an experimental search term… Sao Paulo organised crime… Then

results, starting with a

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

Names of criminal

results, this time, but some more

is enticing recruits

The Evolution of the Most

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