I scrutinised my surroundings but found no one looking at me, which didn’t prove their absence. I had no training on taking masks off of spies unless they wore a face I had already been acquainted with.
I went through the conversation I had with Renato, rummaging for hidden details in his words, but my panicking mind would never allow such reasoning from memory. It was nonsense attempting to find facts between the lines.
I decided I ought to be a bit more practical. No mixing up fantasies and sheer facts inside my head anymore. It was time to call the boss, tell her everything, and book the next flight to Atlanta.
Chapter 9
Before getting back into a car bound to Praia Palace, I called Joanne and sent her messages, but she didn’t reply. It was around 1:00 p.m. in Rio, and two hours earlier in Atlanta. She must be at swimming practice and wouldn’t be available for an hour.
Traffic on the roads leading back to Copacabana Palace were clogged. But the entanglement of cars seemed smaller. On my way back to the hotel, I thought my unlucky situation was all in my head. Since breaking up with Marlon, I felt a sense of solitude that I tried to cover up with working overtime. My professional duties could easily round out routines to the point of making me forget a lack of love and of being taken care of. But an unloved human is like a mass of dry twigs wrapped in rags, a warm touch the perfect storm that will break everything apart. And such encounters, on the course of fate, are inevitable.
Renato was the warm touch, the perfect storm, that my love-thirsty body found impossible to resist. Even when going back to my hotel to pack up my stuff and fly away from Rio, I still felt his touch over my body, his daring stare. There must be a way to solve this whole misunderstanding. Yes, I was probably overreacting to a compound of bad luck and terrible coincidences. But, if so, why the hell would Renato emphasize his willingness to take care of me? Was it a clever way to get me into bed?
Thank god the major part of myself was still rational. The best thing to do would be to start over. I would head back to Atlanta, chill out a little bit, take some days off, and then go back to attending expositions and writing about weapons. But only in safer, and mild temperate sort of countries.
I arrived at Praia Palace a few minutes before 2:00 p.m. Joanne would return my call soon. I headed to the reception desk, but before I could ask for my room key the clerk approached me.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Bennett, but a police officer asked me to deliver this business card to you as soon as you got back to the hotel. I’m also obliged under Brazilian law to let them know of your return,” he said in a robotic way.
I remembered officer Pinto telling me he would leave his card on the reception desk, and only that.
“What? Why would you inform them of my return?”
The clerk pursed his lips and rubbed his hand across his forehead.
“Mrs. Bennett,” he leaned over the desk and murmured almost as if telling a secret, “I was not even supposed to let you know they are going to be informed of your return. It’s just that . . . well . . . I mean, we have to respect the authorities, otherwise, we might spend a few days in jail. But we also care for our guests, and we don’t ask about their past. So, yeah, use this information however you want, even if it means checking out of our hotel right away.”
He straightened his body back up to attend another guest. I felt as though the floor had disappeared from below my feet.
And it was at that downfall moment, while I stared with hopeless, desperate eyes at the reception clerk, that Renato’s warnings over the phone fell onto me with the same strength of a hammer thrust against my temples. “They will pretend to have a warrant to take you under arrest.” Speckles appeared on the edges of my vision as I thought of Renato’s words. I had to prop myself up against the reception desk, in order to avoid a fall.
Had Renato told the truth? It was clear that officers Pinto and Rôla would come looking for me one more time, otherwise, they wouldn’t have issued an order to be informed of my arrival. But, did they really intend to forge a warrant just to arrest me? If so, for what reason? I had nothing of value to offer those two officers. My only adventure was thinking of kissing Renato in the backseat of his car.
Either way, I would not take their smirks easily this time, nor would I witness their desire for finding blame on me spilling from the corners of their poisonous lips. I must avoid them at all costs while I found my way out of Rio.
I took my room key from over the desk and headed toward the elevator. When its doors opened, I looked back at the clerk. He reached for the telephone. Then I walked in.
My time was running out.
Once in my room, I packed my stuff up in less than a minute, leaving behind vanity items inside the bathroom, and a couple of blouses hanging on the wardrobe. I was on the edge of crying, fully aware of every penny I had spent on those items. But my urge to escape the now-almost-sure imprisonment was more important.
The elevator took an eternity to get to the seventh floor. It stopped at the ninth and lingered for more time than I had spent packing my clothes. I hit the elevator door, shouted through its gaps, and
