Crimes Of August Part 16

"I'm Inspector Valente, deputy chief of the presidential guard. At your service."

"It's not with you that I want to speak. It's with your boss."

"Unfortunately, he can't see you at the moment. What is the topic, please?"

"It's only with him."

"Then that's difficult."

"I don't think you understand. I'm conducting a police investigation and any failure to cooperate will be considered obstruction of justice."

Noting the irritation in the inspector's voice, which had caught the attention of others in the reception area, Valente explained that Lieutenant Gregrio had been summoned by General Caiado de Castro and was at that moment in the Military Cabinet of the presidency. He asked the inspector to follow him.

They went to the canteen in the building that housed the personal guard.

"Everyone who works here is in the DPS . . . We're colleagues, we want to cooperate," said Valente.

"I know, I know."

"Inspector Pastor was already here."

"I'm working on a different investigation. I'm not interested in the Tonelero attack. I need some information from Lieutenant Gregrio."

"The chief hasn't even been staying here," Valente said confidentially.

Mattos noticed that a man in a white ap.r.o.n was furtively gesturing at him.

"The situation isn't good," continued Valente, "we don't know what's going to happen."

"Is there any place here where I can do an interrogation?"

"Here?"

"You said you want to cooperate."

"Well, you can use my office."

Mattos looked around and lowered his voice, as if about to tell a secret. "A woman in the neighborhood said that a member of the personal guard seduced her daughter. The description she gave me matches that man over there."

"Manuel? He's not a member of the guard," protested Valente. "He's a cook."

"Better still. I want to interrogate the guy. Tell him to go with us to your office."

"Manuel," Valente called.

The cook approached.

"This here is Mr. Mattos, a police inspector. He wants to talk to you. Come with us."

"What did I do?" asked Manuel, confused.

"I don't know. You'll have to discuss it with the inspector."

When they entered Valente's office, the inspector said that he wanted to speak to Manuel alone. Before leaving the room, Valente heard Mattos's first question: "Do you know a girl named Ernestina who lives on Rua Silveira Martins?"

The inspector and the cook were now alone.

"Ernestina?"

"Her mother told me you seduced the girl," said Mattos, almost shouting as he walked to the door, where he stopped, listening for sounds from outside.

"I don't know anybody by that name." Manuel's confusion had increased.

"Don't lie to me, or it'll go worse for you," shouted Mattos, his face turned toward the door. "Sit there."

Mattos leaned his ear against the door. Then he went to where Manuel was sitting.

"All of that's a pretext so no one will know the subject of our conversation," said Mattos in a soft voice.

"You scared me," said Manuel.

"You gave me a sign that you wanted to speak to me."

"Yes, I did," murmured Manuel. "They can't know what I'm about to say; they'll kill me if they find out."

"Don't worry, for all intents and purposes you're a suspect in a statutory rape case, and that's what my questions were about. The girl's name is Ernestina."

"I belong to the Lantern Club, but n.o.body here knows it. Gregrio is involved in the death of Major Vaz. I saw him several times planning the crime with Climerio."

"Why are you telling me these confidences?"

"Valente was here in the canteen when you arrived. I heard him say that you must be a Lacerda spy. And that the police force was infiltrated with Lacerda supporters."

"After all, just what was it you wanted to tell me?" Mattos concealed his disappointment.

"They, Gregrio and Climerio were whispering, but I could hear the words crow, get rid of him, and others. Gregrio, Getlio, they all hate Lacerda, because Lacerda is going to put an end to the sea of mud. It seems like Gregrio is being held captive at Galeo airport."

"Did you see Gregrio the night of July 31?"

"What day of the week was the 31st?"

"Sat.u.r.day."

"I saw him on Sunday, conspiring with Climerio. Real early. It must've been around six in the morning. The man woke up early that day. The butler, Mr. Zaratini, said he saw Gregrio in the garden at five in the morning."

"Maybe he didn't even sleep at all. Did Gregrio have any visible injuries?"

"Injuries?"

"On his hand or anywhere else."

"No, I didn't see any injury on him."

"He wears a large ring on his right hand. Did you see whether he had on the ring that Sunday morning?"

Manuel had noticed the ring before but couldn't say whether or not Gregrio was wearing the ring that day.

"You may go, but I'm going to want to question you again. I'm going to set up a confrontation with the girl's mother," Mattos shouted, opening the door.

Valente was standing in the hallway, near the door. He retreated.

"Thanks for your cooperation," Mattos said. As he walked toward the door leading to the palace garden, he heard Valente say cynically, "s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g little girls, eh, Manuel? Getting mixed up with jailbait?"

WHEN MATTOS RETURNED to the precinct, the guard at the door came to speak with him.

"Some guy wanted me to tell you that somebody is gonna shoot you . . ."

"Thank you."

It was common for people to call the precinct with information of that kind. Neither the guard nor the inspector attributed any importance to the telephone message. The inspector might have paid more attention if he'd known it came from the numbers bankroller Ilidio. Not having been able to locate Old Turk to cancel the mission, and knowing that the inspector's death would prevent his receiving Ze do Carmo's sites, in addition to leaving him in bad straits with the numbers bosses, Ilidio had decided to protect the cop he earlier had wanted to a.s.sa.s.sinate.

But the inspector's mind was tuned to other things. He called the home of Luciana Gomes Aguiar. She didn't come to the phone.

"Madam said for you to speak with Mr. Galvo, her attorney."

Mattos called Galvo.

"I'm going to lay my cards on the table for you, Mr. Galvo."

Mattos related to Galvo the information he had been given by the doorman Raimundo, that a Negro had been in Gomes Aguiar's apartment the night of the murder.

"He must be the killer, the thief-"

"Let me finish, counselor. Dona Luciana asked the doorman not to speak to anyone about that Negro."

"The doorman must be lying . . ."

"I have other proof that a Negro was in the apartment that night. I want your client to receive me or come here to the precinct to speak with me."

"I don't know if she would be willing to-"

"Mr. Galvo, I'm trying to save you from an unpleasant confrontation."

"I'll speak with her."

"I can't wait much longer, understand? I want to see her tomorrow at the latest."

At noon the inspector's s.h.i.+ft ended. As always, he had signed the poverty papers and proofs of residence that the other inspectors had failed to expedite.

After turning over duty to Inspector Maia, who relieved him, Mattos took his Smith & Wesson from the drawer, placed it in his shoulder holster, and left.

A tall, dark-complexioned man with a mustache curling around the corners of his mouth followed the inspector to the bus stop. When Mattos caught the bus, the man did the same and sat two rows behind.

Mattos was followed to the door of his home, without noticing the tall man tailing him. In reality, spying on a policeman wasn't a demanding task. In the days when he tried to organize the strike against overcrowding in the jails, members of the reserve from headquarters had shadowed him for weeks without his being aware of it.

When he entered his apartment, the phone was ringing.

A man with a hoa.r.s.e voice, perhaps disguised behind a handkerchief, said slowly: "Listen, sir, this isn't a joke. There's a guy trying to kill you. Keep your eyes open. He's tall, dark, and has a mustache. A dangerous hired gun."

Mattos heard the sound of the connection being cut. Immediately afterward, the doorbell rang.

The inspector unlocked the small peephole in the door. The face of a man, dark-complexioned, with a mustache, appeared.

"Sir, I'm here to report a crime."

"Look for me at the precinct."

"It's about crimes committed by policemen in your precinct. I'm afraid to go there. I phoned you yesterday."

The inspector closed the peephole. He opened the door.

"What's all this, sir? You're confusing me," said the man when he saw the revolver in Mattos's hand.

"Enter," said Mattos.

"There must be some mistake."

Mattos closed the door with his foot.

"I don't understand," said the visitor. "My name is Ibrahim a.s.sad. I'm a commercial representative."

"Turkish?"

"Lebanese. Second generation. I was born in Minas. Want to see my ID?" The man gestured with his left hand toward his inside coat pocket.

"Not just yet."

There was a pair of handcuffs in the bookcase. Without taking his eyes off a.s.sad, he got them. Mattos had never used the handcuffs and had lost his key. But that was a problem that could wait.

"Sit, on the floor."

a.s.sad sat.

"Take these cuffs." Mattos threw the handcuffs to a.s.sad, who caught them in the air using his left hand.

"Put one of them on your left wrist."

"You can't do this to me. I'm not a criminal," protested a.s.sad.