Requiem for a Killer (12 page)

Dornelas liked the mixture of peoples and
cultures the city offered. He stopped at Alambique, a store
specializing in
cachaça
– it prided itself on stocking
dozens of brands, domestic and foreign – and checked prices of
various Cuban and Minas Gerais blends. He was struck by all of
them;
cachaça
for the price of scotch whiskey. He left
indignantly.

He turned right on Ouro Street, jumped over
the chain and left the Historical Center. Taking Carroças Avenue,
the main entrance to the city, he went on home. It was only seven;
enough time to walk the dog before going on to the Cultural
Center.

As soon as he opened the door Lupi started
spinning around and jumping up and down, whining the whole time.
Dornelas patted him, threw his keys and the package of pictures on
the hall table and went upstairs, turning on the lights as he went.
He entered his room and saw that, as usual, Neide had closed the
house up like a bunker. The sash windows were all closed. There was
not a breath of air. His shirt stuck to his body with sweat.

He lifted up the sash in the middle window,
opened the shutters and looked at the sky, the few scattered clouds
and the moon shyly rising. He noticed the luminescent ring around
the moon and remembered the old proverb he’d learned as a child:
ring nearby, rain far away; ring far away, rain nearby. He opened
the other two shutters wide and lowered the sashes.

Since the city was surrounded by mountains,
strong winds were rare whenever it started raining. And yet it
would rain in the front room, the children’s room, every time.

He went in their room, lifted the first
sash, opened the shutters and looked down at the street. There were
few people going by; an elderly couple walking together, she
hanging on his arm, a few cars here and there, nothing out of the
ordinary. Stores were closing their doors. He opened the other two
shutters and closed all the sashes, one on top and one on the
bottom in case it rained while he was out. In the living room the
dog started to bark in a strange, alarmed way.

He turned out the lights, turned around to
go downstairs and was startled by a sharp crack, glass breaking and
something heavy falling on the floor. He instinctively crouched
down, turned around and saw a hole in one of the panes in the
middle sash. He didn’t dare turn on the light. He crawled forward
to the window nearest him and looked out through a corner pane.
Nobody on the street. He raised the window and leaned out, looking
both ways. Nothing. He went back inside, turned on the light and
found half a brick under his daughter’s bed. Wrapped around it was
a folded sheet of paper, like from a school notebook, bound to the
brick by a tightly knotted string.

Dornelas picked it up, removed the string
and opened the paper. It was a note on which was written in block
letters: “Don’t go sticking your nose where it don’t belong.” It
was unsigned.

He sat on his son’s bed and took a deep
breath, his heart pounding. He was sweating buckets. He opened the
sashes and closed the shutters in both rooms. He changed his shirt,
left the note and the brick on the hall table, picked up his keys
and left. Lupi’s walk would have to wait.

Chapter 9

T
he first thing he
saw as soon as he entered was an enormous black and white
photograph hanging on the wall: a woman standing up, naked, her
entire body wrapped loosely in bandages; a poorly made mummy.

Her milky skin was visible through the
slits, a little tuft of hair on her pubis and large breasts with
nipples the size of oranges, hanging to the sides, pulled by the
tightly wrapped gauze. She wore a black band above her eyes that
held an evil expression, and wielded a sword in a menacing fashion
in one of her hands.

He went on to the next one, a huge
enlargement of female genitals squeezed between tightly closed
legs; only the black, pubic hair was visible; two male fingers,
index and middle, were making their way mischievously down there.
Dornelas stopped in front of it in total astonishment. He felt a
hand on his shoulder.

Startled, he turned around.

“This photographer does incredible work.
He’s from here, did you know that?” asked Marina.

“I’m either getting old or this is just pure
porn.”

“Or maybe both,” she said with an impish
look.

“Maybe,” smiled a condescending
Dornelas.

“Shall we sit down?”

“Sure.”

They left the exhibition hall and went to
the café in the room next door. They found a round table and sat
down.

“This must be an important case, Inspector.
Still working at this hour?”

She threw out the question with the sarcasm
of the private sector workaholic who sees Brazilian civil service
as a den of inefficiency and loafers. Apart from whether she was
right or not, Dornelas was surprised at her provocation, since she
was also a public servant. He decided to let it go; replying would
only make it worse.

“It’s better than just sitting at home
thinking about silly things,” he answered.

She smiled.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I’d like to know more about what led you to
follow Nildo Borges to this one-horse town.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not the way I see
it.”

“So how do you see it?”

Marina sat up in her chair and leaned her
elbows on the table.

“I followed Nildo because I was lost in Rio.
I don’t like big cities. I was brought up in a small town. I’m
better off here.”

Dornelas felt comforted by the empathy he
felt. Marina continued:

“Nildo is a very able politician who took
the opportunity to combine his love of politics with his family
business when it arose. You know it was his father who founded
Peixe Dourado, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So, things sort of fell into place for him
after the election in Rio.”

“His first one, which he lost, right?”

“Right. Shortly afterwards, when he was
still frustrated with politics in the capital, his father died and
he came here to take care of the family business.”

The waiter appeared. Marina ordered a cup of
coffee and a bottle of sparkling water. Opening the menu Dornelas
suddenly felt ravenous. There was nothing but appetizers; he
imagined small, greasy portions. What he wanted was something more
substantial, maybe a
goró
. Frustrated, he ordered the same
as she, plus an order of fries, which would have to hold him over
until he got back home.

“Why him and not his brother?” asked
Dornelas, putting the menu down on the table.

“Wilson? He’s a complete idiot. If it
weren’t for the family business he’d be hard pressed to find a job
anywhere else.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s totally unprepared. He’s always lived
off his family’s money and he knows nothing about the business –
neither this one nor any other. He spends his time and money
creating absurd projects that never come to anything. And worse,
he’s dumb as a doornail. He tries to offset his stupidity with an
arrogance like I’ve never seen before, he’s a real jerk. Suffice to
say that to this day nothing he’s done has ever worked out.”

“So why did Nildo put him in charge of Peixe
Dourado?”

“It’s just a front. Nildo gave him an
office, a phone and a secretary to show the opposition councilmen
that he’s out of the business. But in fact, it’s Nildo who runs the
company.”

“I thought he only interfered occasionally,
like when that refrigeration unit broke down.”

“That happens frequently. They’re all old
and they cost a fortune.”

“You seem to be well acquainted with the
company!”

“I only know what I hear Nildo saying. I
don’t get involved. Peixe Dourado is a black box to me, as I
imagine it is to you.”

“It is indeed,” he said, then added, “for
the time being.”

Marina Rivera jerked up in her seat as her
eyes opened wide. Dornelas had just opened a door she had been
insisting on keeping closed. It was time to go through it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said: for the time
being.”

“Do you think there’s a connection between
the Mangrove Crime and Peixe Dourado?”

“It’s a possibility I can’t ignore.”

She shook her head lightly, like a canoe
gently rocking in the swells.

“But I’m willing to keep you out of it
should we find something, shall we say, unsavory.”

“How do you mean?”

“Illegal.”

“Are you asking me to betray Nildo after all
these years I’ve been with him? This is a man who has been a
tremendous help in my life, Inspector. A part of what I am and what
I do, I owe to him. I quit my career as a lawyer in Rio because I
thought that by coming here to Palmyra with him I could make a
difference.” She lowered her eyes, seemingly lost. “In a small city
like this I can actually see the results of what I’m doing. That’s
really gratifying, you know?”

“I understand what you’re saying. But
remember that we’re talking about murder here. If we find any
connection to the crime, think of the consequences to his career
and to yours. You followed him here. Better think about how far
you’d be willing to go if the investigation were to reveal
something illegal.”

The coffee, mineral water and fries arrived.
Dornelas put sugar in his coffee, poured water in both glasses and
picked up a fry that almost scalded his fingers. Marina Rivera was
close to collapsing. She didn’t touch anything. She stared
motionless into emptiness. She was struggling with herself, as if
the ground had dropped out from beneath her feet.

“It would be wise if you didn’t mention our
talk to the councilman.”

“Why?”

“For your own good. Despite the two of you
having had a very long relationship – about which, I must say, I
still know very little – think about what you represent in his life
and in his business. Ask yourself if he would protect you from the
scandal, should it come to that, or whether you would merely be...”
– words escaped him – “collateral damage, as they say in American
movies. Nobody is irreplaceable, you know.”

Marina saw herself sinking into a deep, dark
hole. After so many years serving the people and the councilman,
this was the first time she had ever seen her beliefs put in
check.

“Aren’t you being too hard on me,
Inspector?”

“On the contrary. I’m simply the one who’s
opening your eyes to a world you insist on not seeing. What if
Nildo has switched sides, become a criminal? Or more, what if his
idiot brother is not such an idiot after all?”

“Who knows?” she said softly to herself.

Marina sugared her coffee, took a sip and
put it down. It was cold. She mechanically sipped the water, a lost
look on her face.

“I need some time to think, Inspector.”

“You have twenty-four hours. Is that
enough?”

“I think so. What are you asking me for, in
practical terms?”

“Access to the company’s books, especially
the private ones with the slush funds, the unaccounted-for income,
that sort of thing. Look for notations, anything. I want to start
there. If I show up at his door with a court order I’m sure Nildo
Borges will find a way to make this information, if it does in fact
exist, disappear in the wink of an eye.”

“That I can believe.”

“And I don’t want to involve the Federal
Police before I’m sure there’s something really going on.”

Mentioning the Federal Police frightened her
even more.

“You have twenty-four hours,” Dornelas
repeated.

“I have to think.”

Marina got up and left.

*

The message had been delivered.

Now it was time to wait for the plan he’d
put in motion to take its course. He looked at his watch, paid the
check and rushed home. The next to last episode of the soap was
going to start in ten minutes.

It involved an intricate storyline that had
dragged on for months around the people possibly implicated in the
murder of a steel magnate. The plot pointed to several suspects:
the laid-off driver, the betrayed wife, the insatiable lover, the
greedy competitor.

Tonight millions of Brazilians of all ages
and social spheres would join him in a ritual that bordered on
religious fanaticism. Discovering the identity of the murderer was
merely the end of a story which had unfolded in the same manner as
so many other soaps before it. Good guy, bad guy. Rich man, poor
man. The heroine and the viper. Good and evil. The dull routine of
it was just what a single inspector needed.

He opened the door and was almost knocked
over by a nauseous smell. He turned on the lights. Lupi was
cowering under the coffee table in front of the couch, tail between
his legs, eyes wide open and ears hanging down in shame. He was
shaking. Not satisfied with leaving a puddle of pee on the brick
floor, he had also left a pile of dog shit in the corner of the
living room for good measure. Dornelas hurried to the laundry room
in search of a rag, disinfectant and a shovel. He got it all
cleaned up in a trice.

“A walk only after the soap, old buddy,” he
grumbled at the dog, making him cower even more.

He threw open the windows to let the stench
escape, poured himself a shot of
cachaça
, and turned on the
TV in time for scenes from the previous episode. He settled on the
couch, arranging the pillows to his liking, savored a sip of the
cachaça
and here came the commercials. As the latest model
of a silver-colored automobile was speeding smoothly along a
coastline highway, Marina Rivera’s sparkling smile was caressing
his mind. As if under a spell, he rested his head on the back of
the couch and his eyelids fell like lead. Sleep got the better of
him.