As soon as he left, the sergeant said the delegado had gone out the back door and was on the way to his car. The car was a gray sedan. Bittencourt was wearing a brown suit. If I was quick, I could catch him in the parking lot, but I wasn’t to tell the delegado he’d told me that. I took off like a shot.”
“And you caught up with Bittencourt?”
She nodded. “I got between him and his car. When he spotted me, he looked like he’d just taken a mouthful of sour milk, then he turned solicitous.”
“And what, exactly, did he tell you?”
“He said there were two dozen men taking their showers along with Junior, but no one saw him fall. Can you believe that? Two dozen men in the same shower, and no one saw him fall?”
“No,” Hector said. “I can’t.”
“Bittencourt said he was looking into it, he said he was questioning everyone. He promised he’d get back to me.”
“And did he? Did he get back to you?”
She paused for a moment. “No,” she finally said.
And that’s something else she isn’t telling me, Hector thought.
“I think I’ve troubled you enough,” he said.
“Wait,” she said. “You’ll be looking closely into everything that happened on that flight, correct?”
“Correct, Senhora.”
“If, in the course of your investigation, you happen to discover who planted those drugs on my boy, will you tell me?”
“Senhora, I-”
“It’s not that I don’t believe every word Junior said. It’s not that, but… well, there’s always a bit of doubt, isn’t there? It would set my mind at rest to know that he didn’t lie to me.”
She was staring into his eyes. There was something manic about her look. “Will you?” she said. “Will you do it?”
Hector nodded. What harm could it do?
She continued to search his eyes. “I have your word?”
“You have my word,” he said.
“Good,” she said and got up to lead him to the door.
There was a padaria just across the street from Aline’s apartment building. Hector went in, sat down at the zinc-covered counter, and ordered a cachaca neat. It was eleven o’clock in the morning. If the girl behind the counter thought it was early to be drinking straight cane spirit, she didn’t show it.
Hector had surreptitiously switched off his mobile phone while Aline was showing him the pictures. Now he turned it on. He intended to call his uncle, but the phone rang before he could hit the speed dial.
Haraldo Goncalves’s name was on the caller ID.
The conversation that ensued prompted Hector to order another cachaca. He was still sipping it when the phone rang once again.
“Why couldn’t I reach you?” Silva asked.
“I switched my phone off.”
“Why?”
Hector told him about his disturbing conversation with the bereaved mother.
Silva was silent for a moment. He knew what it meant to lose a child. Then he said, “Completely different MO.”
“And it happened in a jail,” Hector said. “No way it could be connected.”
“Maybe not. But the boy was in that cabin with the others, and that’s too much of a coincidence to ignore. Did you hear about the flight attendant, Bruna Nascimento?”
“Just now. Babyface called.”
“Call him back. Tell him to turn around, go to international arrivals and try to talk to the customs agents who nailed the kid.”
“How about Bittencourt? That delegado?”
“Take him yourself. He’s liable to pull rank with Goncalves. And don’t call him first. Surprise him.”
Hector looked at his watch. “Not even noon. I should catch him easy.”
“Who did the autopsy on the Arriaga boy?”
“I don’t know. I’ll find out.”
“From Gilda?”
“From Gilda. I’ll call her straightaway. That it?”
“No. One more thing: call Mara and ask her to see what she can find out about the kid’s father.”
“You think-”
“I don’t think anything. I’d just like to know.”
The guy behind the counter picked up Hector’s glass and gave him a questioning look. Hector shook his head and pointed at the coffee pot.
Chapter Seventeen
Luis Mansur’s first phone call from the Federal Police initially provoked curiosity, then irritation.
A woman who identified herself as Senhorita Mara Carta asked if he was the Luis Mansur who’d flown from Miami to Sao Paulo on the twenty-second of November.
“Yes,” he’d said. “What’s this all about?”
“That was on TAB flight 8101, is that correct?”
“Yes. Why do you want to know?”
“Are you acquainted with a man called Juan Rivas, or a man called Jonas Palhares, or a man called Victor Neves?”
“No. And why the fuck are you asking?”
She sniffed. “I’ve given you no cause to be offensive, Senhor Mansur. I’m just doing my job. Did you make the acquaintance of any of the other passengers on that flight?”
“What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?”
“No, Senhor, it’s the Federal Police, and I advise you to answer the question.”
“I never speak to people on airplanes.”
That was not, strictly speaking, true. The two times Mansur had been seated next to an attractive woman, he’d tried very hard to strike up a conversation.
“If you didn’t speak to anyone,” the voice on the line went on, “what did you do on that flight?”
This was really too much. Mansur was tempted to hang up on her, but it was the Federal Police.
“What does anybody do on a flight? I had a drink. I ate my dinner. I watched a movie. Then I put on a sleeping mask, stuck in some earplugs, and slept all the way to Sao Paulo.
Now, I want to know-”
She didn’t let him finish. “That’s all for the moment. Someone will be contacting you soon.”
She hung up, without so much as a thank you.
Bitch!
Mansur had interpreted “soon” as sometime within the coming days. But the second call came less than an hour later, and at a most inconvenient time. He was in the process of firing Jamile Bastos and had made it clear to Rosa, his secretary, that he was not to be disturbed. But he hadn’t locked the door to his office and that, in retrospect, proved to be a mistake.
Jamile possessed an ample bosom and very long legs. Mansur had made a play for her, and she’d brushed him off. He wasn’t about to let her get away with this simply because she showed up on time and was good at her job. She was a single mother with two children to feed. She had obligations. She should have known better.
He’d been expecting tears, got them, and was handing Jamile a third paper handkerchief when Rosa barged in without waiting for a response to her knock. Luis raised his chin and glared at her, expecting her to back out
