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 town… the red-light district…

Nothing hangs together.

down to my empty coffee cup. “Mais

“Sim. Thank you.”

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

Then, remembering that I ‘can’t speak

place very bad. Many bad men there. And badder

Que tipo de bad men and

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

violence,” I say.

nods vigorously. “Sim,

nods. Then I mime injecting

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.”

bad woman too?

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

bad woman. What

so many. Bad men gone. Not like other cities. Since two years, bad men here again. And this woman is

is sounding deeply

Juliana…

What

stares at me

try again. “The bad woman… A mulher

“Ninguém sabe. Ela é

What does she

Again, that blank stare…

stand, raising my hand to my head… “Tall?” … Then

Bad people. You not go there. I show you nice place for nice English turista man. You go

o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes? We have many artista famoso there. And we have

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

I can read Portuguese,

the newspaper archives, I know what I’m looking

term… Sao Paulo organised

000 results, starting with a Wikipedia

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

tap in another search. Names of criminal

time, but some more useful

Brazil’s largest gang is enticing recruits

the

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