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…

poorer end of

Nothing hangs together.

my elbow, nodding down to my empty coffee cup. “Mais

“Sim. Thank you.”

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

I ‘can’t speak

Many bad

tipo

this city….” He sweeps his arms out in circles all around… “…all bad place. Much…” He falters

I say. “Much

nods vigorously. “Sim,

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

from me, closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor.

bad woman too?

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

woman. What she

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 here again. And this woman is baddest. She is…” He splutters

sounding

Juliana…

What does she

at me

again. “The bad woman…

upheld, he shrugs. “Ninguém

What does

Again, that blank stare…

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

Bad people. You

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

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

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 spend more of my time interpreting the language

now, delving into the newspaper archives, I know what

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

000 results, starting

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

Names of

this time, but

gang is enticing

of the