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…

of

Nothing hangs together.

elbow, nodding down to my empty coffee

“Sim. Thank you.”

“Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my

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

very bad. Many bad men there.

prick. “Woman? Que tipo de bad

a 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

I say. “Much

vigorously. “Sim, muita

and again he nods.

closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor. And bad men.” He wags

said bad woman

down, then up again, nodding. “Prostitutes, sim. But há sim one bad

woman. What she

Not like other cities. Since two years, bad

sounding deeply

Juliana…

What does she look

at me

woman…

“Ninguém sabe. Ela

does she look

Again, that blank stare…

my hand to my head… “Tall?”

a forefinger 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 like o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes? We have many

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

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

delving into the newspaper archives,

Paulo organised crime… Then as an afterthought,

blinks: 139,000, 000 results, starting with

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

search. Names of criminal gangs

results, this time, but some

gang is enticing

Evolution of the Most Lethal