“Why are you wasting your time on a set of keys?”
“Because it could be important. Please answer the question.”
For a moment, he didn’t think she would. Then she said, “Tico’s maids are too lazy to put things where they belong. When they tidy up, they just shove things out of sight.”
The Artist looked shamefaced. “I didn’t grow up with maids, so I don’t know how to handle them. That’s what Cintia says.”
“And it’s true,” she said, closing the magazine and tossing it aside. “But now they’ve got me to deal with. And they’ll either get with the program, or be looking for new jobs.”
“Tell me this,” Silva said. “Has anyone other than yourselves, or your servants, had access to that drawer?”
“You think we invite people to come and inspect the contents of our drawers? You think-” She broke off in midsentence and blinked as if something had just occurred to her.
“Senhorita Tadesco?” Silva prompted.
She shook her head.
“Nothing,” she said.
“The drawer in which you found the keys, what do you use it for?”
“Underwear.”
“Tico’s or yours?”
“Mine. And the answer is no.”
She was back to her usual unsympathetic self.
Silva frowned.
“The answer to what is no?”
“You may not look in my drawer. I hate the idea of people pawing through my things, particularly my underwear.”
“I had no intention of asking,” Silva said.
“No?”
“No. When we spoke on the phone Tico mentioned a party you held on Saturday evening.”
“What of it?”
“I’d appreciate it if you and Tico would make a list of the people who attended.”
“No problem,” Tico said.
“I’d also like to know if you’ve received more than one visit from anyone between Friday and the day of the kidnapping.”
“Wait a minute,” Cintia said. “Are you suggesting someone came up here, took those keys and later returned them?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. But we can’t discount the possibility.”
“Oh, yes, we can. We can discount it right now. We didn’t get more than one visit from anybody.”
“Except for my mother,” Tico said. “She came on Friday for dinner and again on Saturday, for the party.”
“On which of those two occasions did she give you the keys?”
“Friday,” Cintia said, answering for him.
“Did your guests on Saturday include Jordan Talafero?”
“Yes.”
“How about your agent, Tarso Mello?”
“Yes. Ex-agent.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Tarso doesn’t know it yet, but he’s no longer my agent. I’m going to fire him.”
“Rather sudden, isn’t it? Saturday you invite him to a party, and now you intend to fire him? Why the sudden change of heart?”
“That, Chief Inspector, is none of your business.”
The Artist looked at her. “You didn’t tell me you had a problem with Mello,” he said.
“Didn’t I? I thought I did.”
Silva cleared his throat. “Does the name Edson Campos mean anything to you?”
“He’s Tarso’s boyfriend,” she said.
“What, if anything, can you tell me about him?”
“Not a thing. I’ve only heard the name. I never met him.”
“Do you know what he does for a living?”
“No idea.”
“He’s a veterinary technician.”
“So?”
“Do you know what Ketamine is?”
“What?”
“Ketamine. Ever heard of it?”
“No. Where are you going with all of this?”
“We found a syringe in Senhora Santos’s bedroom. It contained traces of Ketamine, a drug used in veterinary medicine.”
“Used for what?”
“To anesthetize animals.”
“Animals?” Tico said, shocked. “And the bastards used it on my mom?”
“We think they did,” Silva said.
“Could it… could it have hurt her?”
“We don’t think so. It was originally developed for human use.”
“Well, thank God for that,” Tico said.
“I can’t see that wimp Tarso getting involved in something like this,” Cintia said. “He wouldn’t have the balls. You done?”
Silva got to his feet. He’d had quite enough of Cintia Tadesco for one day.
“We’re done,” he said.
“Good,” she said, and picked up her magazine.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Silva had switched off his mobile phone while they were in the Artist’s apartment. After they were back in the car, he remembered to turn it on again. There were three missed calls and a voicemail, all from the Director. He listened to the voicemail and spat out an expletive.
“What?” Arnaldo said, starting the engine.
Before Silva could respond, the phone started to vibrate. Still annoyed at what he’d just heard, and without glancing at the caller ID, he pushed the button and took the call.
“Director?”
“I thought my promotion was supposed to be a secret.”
It was Hector, not Sampaio.
“Not funny,” Silva said.
“I thought it was.”
“Really? Well how’s this to take the smile off your face? The reason I addressed you as Director was because Sampaio is anxious to get in touch with me. When you called, I thought it was him, making another attempt.”
“I’m still smiling.”
“You won’t be when I finish. He left a voicemail. The reason he called was to tell me he’s coming to Sao Paulo.”
