'Sit there,' she said, indicating a plastic chair. 'I'll get Marly. I think she's doing the bathrooms.'
The woman she brought back looked to be a good deal older than her employer but probably wasn't. Marly Souza's best feature were her eyes, which were large and brown, and at the moment, fearful. She'd done nothing to conceal the streaks of gray in her black, kinky hair. Her lips were generous and still showed the signs of some carmine lipstick. Arnaldo thought she might have been quite pretty, once.
'I'll leave you to it,' Dona Marcia said, and went away without so much as offering Arnaldo a cup of coffee.
'Bitch,' he said softly to her retreating back.
One corner of Marly Souza's mouth twitched. A smile or a nervous tic? He wasn't sure. She brushed a strand of hair from her right eye with a hand that showed faint traces of crimson nail enamel.
'She'll fire me for sure,' she said.
'Why? You haven't done anything, have you?'
Marly looked down at her ragged sneakers, once white. She was wearing them without socks. Bits of the dark skin of her feet showed through the holes.
'Have you?' Arnaldo insisted.
She looked up. 'You don't get it, do you? I brought a cop to her home. That'll be reason enough.' She sounded angry, and maybe she was, but the fear was still there. She still hadn't asked Arnaldo what he wanted. And she didn't. Instead, she looked around to make sure they were alone and said, 'Not yet.'
'Not yet?'
'I swear.'
Arnaldo caught on. 'I don't work with Colonel Ferraz,' he said.
Her mouth opened in surprise.
'I'm from the Federal Police. Help me. We'll protect him.'
She started picking at one of her broken nails.
'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said.
'Yeah, you do. We're talking about Edson. We're talking about your son. If Ferraz gets to him first, he'll kill him.'
With a brusque movement she ripped off part of the nail. Her finger started to bleed. She stared at it, as if she'd had no part in causing the injury. The expression on her face didn't change.
'Help me,' Arnaldo said. 'Help him.'
'I'll do what I promised,' she said. 'You go back and tell the colonel that. Tell him I'll come and tell him where Edson is. I'll tell him just as soon as I know.'
'I doubt it,' Arnaldo said. 'I'll bet you're worried about all of your children, not just the little ones.'
He'd struck a nerve. Impulsively, she reached out a hand and clutched him by the wrist. 'No,' she said. 'A bargain's a bargain. I'll keep up my side. Please. Tell him that. Tell him to leave my babies alone.'
'Marly?'
It was Dona Marcia.
Both of them looked up. The woman came forward and held out some banknotes.
'For today,' she said, 'and for last Friday. I won't be needing you anymore.'
'Does this have anything to do with me?' Arnaldo said.
'No, Agente, it has to do with Marly, and frankly it's none of your business. Now, if the two of you are quite finished…'
'We're not,' he said bluntly.
'Then you can continue your conversation elsewhere. I want you both out of my home.'
Arnaldo waited while Marly fetched her things, a purse and a shopping bag, and watched while Dona Marcia made a minute inspection of the contents of both to make sure that Marly hadn't helped herself to any of the family silver.
The taxi driver was where Arnaldo had left him, listening to a cassette tape of musica sertaneja and tapping his fingers on the dashboard. He didn't seem surprised to have acquired another passenger.
'Where to now?' he said cheerfully, shifting the meter from the waiting position to the basic rate for daytime travel.
His broad smile disappeared when Arnaldo told him to go back to the favela.
Chapter Twenty-nine
They arrived in a caravan, four vehicles in all.
Muniz led the way in his black Mercedes. His capangas were right behind it. Ferraz's black-and-white police sedan brought up the rear.
Muniz leapt to the ground and advanced on Pillar even before his car had come to a complete stop. A long- barreled. 44 magnum revolver dangled from a holster on his right hip. He was carrying a 12-gauge pump-action shotgun.
The men he had with him grabbed their weapons, piled out of both vans, and formed a semi-circle behind him.
Hector reached under his jacket and wrapped his fingers around the grip of his Glock.
Muniz was so furious, and so intent on getting to Pillar, that he didn't even notice.
But one of his gunmen did, and tensed.
Silva addressed his nephew, speaking softly so that no one else could hear. 'Don't draw that pistol. We're outgunned. Put your hands where that capanga can see them.'
'He wouldn't dare-'
'He would. And then his friends will kill those reporters, Pillar, and me. Muniz will claim the league started it, and Ferraz will back him up. Do it.'
Hector took his hand out from under his coat, but the capanga didn't take his eyes off him.
Muniz came to a stop, three meters from the group surrounding Pillar.
The journalists scurried back out of the way. A few of the league members did too, but only a few.
Pillar raised his hands to shoulder height.
Muniz pumped a round into the chamber of his shotgun.
'I'm sorry about your son,' Pillar said, his voice even. 'It's a heavy burden for any father.'
'Don't give me that, you hypocritical, lying bastard. You made the biggest mistake of your life when you decided to tangle with me.'
There was a screech of brakes. Vicenza and her crew piled out of their van, leaving the doors open and the engine running. The red light on the front of the camera was already blinking.
'No pictures,' Ferraz said, extending his arms as if he was directing traffic.
Vicenza lifted her microphone, caught her breath and said, 'You're looking at Colonel Ferraz of the Sao Paulo State Police, a man who evidently thinks he's still living in a dictatorship. Over his shoulder, and holding a shotgun, is Orlando Muniz.'
The cameraman pushed a button, and the barrel of the zoom lens started to rotate, tightening the angle on Muniz.
'A few moments ago,' Vicenza continued, 'Senhor Muniz told us he's convinced that the Landless Workers' League is responsible for the death of his son. It appears he's decided to take the law into his own hands.'
Pillar saw his chance. He raised his voice and started to talk, almost as if they'd rehearsed it. 'The Landless Worker's League categorically denies any complicity in the death of Orlando Muniz Junior. None of us are armed. None of us want trouble.'
'Well, you've got it anyway.' It was Ferraz, his face crimson. 'You're trespassing on private property. The owner of this fazenda, Senhor Muniz here, has the right to evict you. I authorize him to use force.'
'Sorry, Colonel, you can't do that-'
'The hell I can't.'
'-because we've got a restraining order,' Pillar finished calmly. 'We've petitioned the court. They've agreed
