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

Nothing hangs together.

to my empty coffee

“Sim. Thank you.”

stabs a finger at my page. “You not go this place. Is bad

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

bad. Many bad men there. And badder

“Woman? Que tipo de

sweeps his arms out in circles all around… “…all bad place.

I say.

He nods vigorously. “Sim, muita

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

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

woman too?

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

woman.

his hand… “… Not so many. Bad men gone. Not like other cities. Since two years, bad

is sounding deeply

Juliana…

her name? What does she look

stares at

try again. “The bad woman… A

he shrugs. “Ninguém sabe. Ela é

mystery? What does she look

Again, that blank stare…

to my head… “Tall?” … Then lower… “Short?

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

the guide, riffling through. “You like o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes? We have many artista famoso there. And we have

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

at least, their English editions. I can

now, delving into the newspaper archives, I know what I’m looking

Paulo organised

139,000, 000 results, starting

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

in another search. Names of

results, this time, but

gang is

The Evolution of the Most

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