Hot Revenge Box Set 4

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

Nothing hangs together.

nodding down to my empty coffee cup. “Mais café, Senhor

“Sim. Thank you.”

my cup across the table, and he glances at my guide. “Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my page.

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

Many bad men there. And badder

ears prick. “Woman? Que tipo

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

I say. “Much

“Sim, muita violência. Muito

smoke an imaginary cigarette and again he nods. Then

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

bad woman too?

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

woman. What

place. Then, since ten year, Sao Paulo good city. People not die…” Fingers spread, he rocks his hand… “… Not so many. Bad men gone. Not like other cities. Since two years, bad men

is sounding deeply

Juliana…

What does she look

at

again. “The bad woman… A mulher má…

upheld, he shrugs. “Ninguém sabe. Ela

mystery? What does she

Again, that blank stare…

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

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

o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes?

on, nodding as he jabs fingers at places where ‘Nice turista man is safe.’ But my

trick: an obvious trick: ten minutes later I’ve signed up for subscriptions on a variety of Brazilian newspapers, or at least, their English editions. I can read Portuguese, but it doesn’t come so naturally as reading in English. I

newspaper archives,

an experimental search term… Sao Paulo organised crime…

blinks: 139,000, 000 results, starting

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

Names

time, but some more

gang is

the Most