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…

end of town… the red-light district…

Nothing hangs together.

elbow, nodding down to my empty coffee cup.

“Sim. Thank you.”

He stabs a finger at my page. “You not go this place. Is bad place for nice English cavalheiro

remembering that I ‘can’t speak the language’…

Many bad

ears prick. “Woman? Que tipo de bad

sweeps his arms out in circles all around… “…all bad place. Much…” He falters then holds out two

violence,” I say.

nods vigorously. “Sim, muita violência. Muito

smoke an imaginary cigarette and again he nods. Then I

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

bad woman too?

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

bad woman.

Paulo bad 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 here again. And this woman is baddest. She is…” He splutters for a moment… “She same as prostitute. She

sounding

Juliana…

her name? What

at

again. “The bad woman… A mulher má…

“Ninguém

mystery? What does she

Again, that blank stare…

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

But he waves 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

like o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes?

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

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

newspaper archives,

tap in an experimental search term… Sao Paulo

blinks: 139,000, 000 results, starting with a Wikipedia

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

another search. Names of

but some more useful

gang is enticing recruits with

the Most Lethal Criminal