Requiem for a Killer (26 page)

“Are you comfortable?” asked Dornelas
pleasantly, opening with an attempt to establish a connection with
the guy.

He got no response.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Silence.

“Alright. But you must have a name. I can’t
talk to anybody who doesn’t have a name. How about João?”

The man looked at him.

“Right or wrong?”

“Teodósio,” he said, lowering his eyes to
the floor, “but they call me Téo.”

“Great, Téo. You can relax. Don’t be afraid
of us. We’re all good guys here.”

The man raised his face again and with a
serious expression stared at him for a long time.

“I’m scared of the cops, sir.”

“I get that and I’m really sorry. But I
promise you that in my precinct we don’t mistreat anyone.”

He looked down at feet again. Dornelas’
words clearly had not put him at ease.

“Let’s just have a pleasant chat. What do
you say?” Dornelas leaned over in his chair, got closer and put a
hand on Téo’s shoulder, causing him to quiver like a skittish pony.
The objective of this approach was to try to establish a positive
rapport thereby making it easier for him to open up to the
police.

The inspector took his hand away and
continued:

“Téo, it’s important for you to understand
what your situation is here. In the first place, what we’re doing
is not just a simple interrogation. You don’t have to tell us you
shot Councilman Nildo Borges. We, and many other witnesses who were
at the funeral, saw you on top of the cemetery wall shooting a
rifle. I found the weapon myself. So as regards that, there’s no
doubt that you’re guilty of attempted murder. You committed the
crime and that’s that. But lucky for you, Nildo is only wounded.
Are we clear so far?”

The man nodded, his head still resting on
his chest.

“Great. What I want to know is why you
wanted to kill Councilman Nildo Borges.”

“I was hired to,” mumbled Téo.

Dornelas’ eyes lit up at this.

“Who hired you?”

With his eyes lowered, Teodósio was
scratching at some dirt on his pant leg. He seemed to be getting
smaller, shrinking right in front of their eyes.

“Who hired you?” insisted Dornelas. “Don’t
be scared. We won’t hurt you, but we need to know who hired you to
kill Nildo Borges.”

“And Dona Marina Rivera,” blurted out Téo,
finishing Dornelas’ sentence in a frighteningly cold voice.

Dornelas slumped back in his chair, taken
aback.

“Was it you hiding in the pantry when I
knocked on the door?”

Teodósio confirmed this with a nod while
Dornelas was considering something else in his mind. He decided to
voice it.

“Do you mean that if I had found you
there…”

“I’d have killed you too.”

“How?”

“I had a gun.”

Dornelas recalled he had not taken a gun to
Marina’s house. He was truly sorry for her fate but at the same
time thanked the gods he had not noticed the pantry at that
moment.

“How much did they pay you?”

“Fifteen hundred.”

“Who hired you?”

The man looked at Dornelas
distrustfully.

“What am I looking at?”

Dornelas took his time before answering. He
thought carefully before he let the man have it:

“For Marina, twelve to thirty years, before
considering the aggravating circumstances,” he said while trying to
contain a vengeful urge to keep Teodósio behind bars for as long as
possible. “For the attempted murder of Nildo Borges, four to
twenty. Worst case scenario, you get out an old man walking with a
cane. Or dead. The judge might reduce your sentence a bit for good
behavior after you’ve spent a few years locked up.”

The man didn’t appear to be upset and
Dornelas couldn’t understand why.

“Now tell me who hired you to kill Marina
Rivera and Nildo Borges.”

“What’s in it for me?”

The question infuriated Dornelas; he told
Solano to wait for him and bolted out of the room. He went to his
office and picked up the phone.

“Marilda, Get me Dr. Amarildo Bustamante
immediately.

“Right away.”

He hung up and stayed seated until the phone
rang again. He answered it.

“Dr. Amarildo, Inspector,” said Marilda.

“Thank you.”

After clearing his throat, the boss
answered.

“Amarildo, good afternoon.”

“How are you, Joaquim?”

“Hanging in there.”

Briefly, Dornelas told his boss everything
about Teodósio’s testimony and the crossroad he had been put
in.

“Can I offer him a plea-bargain
agreement?”

“Do it. I’m sick and tired of this case.
Let’s get it solved ASAP, whatever it takes.”

“Okay. As soon as I get his statement I’ll
call you.”

“Great. Take care, Joaquim.”

“You too.”

They were both satisfied when they hung up.
Dornelas sped back to the interrogation room, went through the door
and even before sitting down said:

“I can offer you a plea agreement, which
means reducing time to be served by one or maybe two thirds,
possibly even a pardon – which I wouldn’t count on in your case –
if you tell me who ordered the hits on Marina Rivera and Nildo
Borges,” he said.

Teodósio looked at him, obviously
satisfied.

“Wilson Borges.”

Dornelas turned to the mirror and
yelled.

“Bring him in right now! You might find him
at Peixe Dourado.”

Caparrós and Lotufo ran out of the room and
the precinct to get the car.

“Were these the first jobs of this type that
you did for him?” asked Solano, up to now only an interested but
silent observer.

Téo shook his head.

“What kind of work do you do for Wilson
Borges?”

“A little of everything. I’m the caretaker
and gardener at his house, and I wash the car and I’m his
driver.”

“And you kill for him too,” added Solano,
irritated.

Dornelas looked at the detective and then
turned to Teodósio.

“How long have you been working for
him?”

“I used to work for his father. After the
old man died I went to take care of Mr. Wilson’s house.”

“Did you take part in the murder of José
Aristodemo dos Anjos, White Powder Joe?” asked the Inspector.

“Is that covered by the plea agreement
also?

Dornelas nodded.

“Then yeah, I killed him too.”

‘
Bingo!’
thought Dornelas.

“Did Wilson tell you to do that too?” asked
Solano.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me all about it,” ordered
Dornelas.

The man straightened up in his chair and
began.

“That morning, while I was working in the
garden, Mr. Wilson told me I had to do a job for him that night,
handed me a syringe and a little bottle with liquid in it and told
me he’d pay me an extra fifteen hundred on top of my salary.”

“What’s your salary?” asked Solano.

“A thousand reais for me and my wife with
both of us legally registered as employees. She cleans and
cooks.”

“Go on,” said Dornelas.

“That night he called me and told me to take
him to Dona Maria das Graças’ house.”

“Sorry,” interrupted Solano, “but I’ve got
two questions before you go any further: first, is Wilson married.
And the second is if he’d been a client of Maria das Graças for a
long time.”

“Well, about the first, no, he isn’t married
anymore. Used to be. His wife ran off with a German tourist and
lives in another country. They don’t have any kids. But Mr. Wilson
does have a girlfriend, a lot younger than him, a bitch who treats
us like shit.”

“And what about Maria das Graças?” asked
Dornelas.

“Mr. Wilson knows that woman from way back.
Over the last couple of weeks I’d been taking him there almost
every day. I even think Mr. Wilson was hooked on her.”

“He was seeing Maria das Graças even with a
girlfriend at home?” asked Dornelas.

“The girlfriend doesn’t live with him. She
sleeps there sometimes during the week. But he doesn’t pay her much
heed. The only reason she wants to get married is to get her hands
on the family money.”

“So why doesn’t he break up with her?” asked
Solano.

“When have you ever seen a guy break up with
a woman? With a cunt to screw at home and another on the street
yet?”

Dornelas didn’t think much of the man’s
attitude. But what could he do? Worried they were beginning lose
focus, he asked Teodósio to continue his story about the day White
Powder Joe’s died.

“Well, that night I left him at Dona Maria
das Graças house and went back to the parking lot to leave the car.
Mr. Wilson lives in the Historical Center and cars aren’t allowed
in there. After leaving the car in the parking lot...”

“What time was that?” interrupted
Solano.

“A little after midnight.”

“Go on,” said Dornelas.

“When I left the parking lot I walked to
Monkey Island. Mr. Wilson told me a black pick-up would be waiting
for me in front of Dona Maria das Graças’ house and that the guys
inside would help me take her brother. I found the truck, knocked
on the window and a big black guy got out with two others. They
asked me if I worked for Wilson and I said I did. Then they knocked
on the door and this White Powder Joe guy opens the door. We get
him down in no time. And right there, in the middle of the living
room, I shoot him up with the whole little bottle, about 10 ml, in
the back. He tried real hard to get away. We waited for him to calm
down some and stuck him in the back.”

“Would you be able to recognize the three
men in the car?”

“No, sir. They wore stockings over their
heads. All I saw was their eyes.”

Dornelas, sorry to hear this, turned to
Solano.

“Wilson figured that being Maria das Graças’
client and in the room next door, we wouldn’t suspect him. But here
he forgot about Nildo’s reputation. If the media found out that the
councilman’s brother was at the crime scene, it’d be a disaster.
That’s why he never went back.” He turned to Téo. “Go on.”

“After the guy cooled down a bit I told them
what Mr. Wilson told me to tell them.”

“Which was?”

“For them to wait for the guy to die for
sure before getting rid of the body.”

“Where’d you wait before throwing him in the
canal?”

“In a dark alley, a couple of blocks from
there.”

“And then?”

“I walked back to the parking lot, got the
car and went to pick up Mr. Wilson, who was waiting for me in the
street in back.”

Dornelas was silent for a moment, thinking.
A tap on the mirror and Solano left the room. Anderson needed a
break to change the camera disk. As soon as Solano came back, after
Anderson had given him the okay, the inspector turned to the
caretaker. “Can you think of any reason why Wilson would want to
kill White Powder Joe?”

Téo lowered his head and stood up.

“Mr. Wilson’s involved in drugs, sir. White
Powder Joe was always showing up at his house. The last couple of
times they argued over money. Mr. Wilson thought White Powder Joe
was robbing him, skimming off the top.”

“But if he’s involved in drugs, and with
White Powder Joe, why kill exactly the person who’s taking care of
the business?” asked Solano.

Dornelas responded immediately:

“Maybe the Doorman offered him a better deal
and offered to help get rid of the competition. It’s that simple.”
He turned to Teodósio, “want some coffee?”

“Yeah, I do, sir.”

“How about bringing coffee for everybody?”
he asked Solano. “See if Anderson wants some too.”

Solano got up, opened the door, went out and
closed it behind him. Dornelas was lost in thought while the
caretaker, feeling more at ease now, watched him.

“Bad people got to die, sir.”

“But what about Marina Rivera... is she bad
people to you?”

“No, not Dona Marina. But she found out
about Mr. Wilson’s drug business.”

“Tell me everything.”

“The morning of the day I strangled her she
went by Mr. Wilson’s house to talk. They were in the living room
and I was hiding behind the door, listening to the conversation.
She told Mr. Wilson she’d heard rumors on the island that he,
Wilson, was in the drug business with White Powder Joe. And that it
was he who’d put out the hit on White Powder Joe. She wanted to put
everything out in the open but he denied it. Then Dona Marina asked
Mr. Wilson to get out of it, that if the press found out it would
screw up his brother’s career. Wilson got really pissed off and
told her to get out, kicked the woman out of his house. But before
he slammed the door in her face Marina threatened him, told him
that if he didn’t stop, if he didn’t quit dealing drugs, that she
was going to the cops, going to you, and tell everything.”

In a strange way this news was gratifying to
the inspector. From what Teodósio had just told him, Marina was
murdered for having discovered Wilson’s involvement with drug
trafficking and not for nosing around Peixe Dourado’s books. That
meant Dornelas wasn’t responsible for her death. A most unfortunate
coincidence, but nevertheless one that brought him tremendous
relief.

Solano returned with three hot cups of
coffee. He gave one each to the boss and to the caretaker and sat
back down in his chair.

“Thanks,” Dornelas said, and turned back to
the caretaker. “Did you know I would be going to her house?”

“No, sir. It was just a bad accident.”

“And how did you get in?”

“It was weird. Since she knows me, I figured
all I’d have to do was knock on the door and she’d let me in. If it
had gone that way I would have killed her right there in the living
room. But it didn’t; I knocked on the door and she threw me the
keys from an upstairs window. She didn’t even look to see who it
was.”

“She was expecting me,” Dornelas finished
ruefully, still unable to accept Marina’s fate. “What then?”