Robert Wilson - A Small Death in Lisbon

'What now?' asked Carlos, still nervous.

'I'm thinking that this tooth here under my new bridgework hurts when I drink something hot.'

I called my dentist who said she'd fit me in some time during the afternoon.

'What about Xeta?' asked Carlos.

'Narciso knows that's a hopeless case.'

'The lab report from the pathologist said he had three types of semen in his rectum, two different types in his stomach and he was HIV positive.'

I threw up my hands.

'I don't like not giving my full attention to a case, but you have to recognize when it's unwinnable. Narciso knows. He's put us out to grass.'

'So…' he said, weighing things up, 'we have lunch in Alcântara?'

'You're learning,' I said. 'You're learning too fast.'

We sat outside the Navigator restaurant, two establishments up from the Wharf One nightclub, with a large platter of sardines, boiled potatoes, grilled peppers and a salad. We shared a carafe of white wine. The sardines were perfect, not too large and fresh off the boat. We dismantled them without speaking. The waiter came and took our plates away. We ordered coffee.

'Let's think about what we've got,' I said.

Carlos took out his notebook and flicked through the sheets. He began a résumé.

'We've got a sexually loose girl, called Catarina Oliveira, who was last seen getting into a black C series Mercedes 200, petrol, with tinted windows and the letters NT in the registration. This happened about an hour before she was murdered and took place about a hundred metres from her school on Avenida Duque de Ávila.

'It seems this girl would do anything for her father to get his attention, but despised her mother to the point where she would collude with the father in her humiliation, probably in a desperate attempt to strengthen her relationship with her father.

'We don't think that the lawyer is the real father,' he concluded.

'Have you checked that in the hospital records?' I asked.

'Yes, Dona Oliveira was definitely the mother. There's no doubt about that.'

'I'm impressed.'

'You don't have to tell me to do everything,' he said. 'I even checked the librarian at the Biblioteca Nacional and all the other alibis.'

'I'm not used to initiative,' I said. 'Carry on.'

'The victim is associated with Valentim Almeida, the guitarist in the band who we suspect is a pornographer and who had sufficient hold over her to persuade her to indulge in an unusual sexual act in the Pensão Nuno, during the lunchtime before she was killed.'

Carlos flicked backwards and forwards through his notebook.

'There's no evidence so far that the killer followed her from the Pensão to the school… or rather the café near the school.'

'Go back to the notes you took from the people we interviewed at the bus stops. Four of them saw her get into the car. Did any of them say where the car came from?'

'We didn't ask that question. We just wanted to know about the car she got into.'

'You've got all the telephone numbers of those people at the bus stop. Call them and ask that question,' I said. 'If he was a passing motorist that's one thing, but if he was waiting for her to come out of the school then he'd already tracked her down.'

'The barman in the Bella Italia said she was alone when she drank the bica.'

'I tried to talk to him the other day but he was off,' I said. 'I'll try again after I've been to the dentist.'

'And then there's Valentim,' said Carlos. 'He's still got something to tell us. I don't know what, but… something.'

'I wouldn't mind establishing a link between him and Dr Oliveira.'

'There's one already. The lawyer gave us his telephone number.'

'I mean a relationship of some sort.'

'A financial one… the video equipment?'

'Maybe. That's an interesting possibility. He won't tell us anything but maybe we can surprise it out of him. Is he still being held in the tacos?'

'I'll check.'

I left Carlos making calls and told him to carry on working the Xeta case in Alcântara while I went to my dentist on Campo Grande. I took the 38 bus all the way from the docks. It took for ever.

I sat in the waiting room flicking through Caras magazine, looking at all the half-celebrities, thinking about Luísa and her dismay at the idea of sex scandal in a serious business magazine. I dropped Caras and picked up VIP, another in the genre. Flicking from the back I came across a bunch of photographs of charity functions. There was one at the Ritz and the photograph showed Miguel da Costa Rodrigues and his wife in a line-up of people who mattered. Senhor Rodrigues was wearing one of Olivia's ties, the same one he'd been wearing that Friday night in Paço de Arcos. His wife was wearing a suit that I'd seen Olivia working on for the past month. I tore the picture out and folded it into my wallet to show Olivia later.

The dentist patched up a small gap between the bridgework and my tooth. It took her thirty seconds and she told me I'd have to come back for a filling. The repair work cost 8000 esc. and the filling would be another 12,000 esc. It sounded like easy money to me if you could bear looking in rotten mouths all day.

I came out of Campo Grande and tested my repaired bridgework with a coffee. I found myself looking at a building, which I realized was the Biblioteca Nacional. I wandered in and around the stacks of books until I got to the psychology section. I saw him from the back first, with that swag of brown ringlets. He was out of the tacos. That hadn't taken long, I thought. I sat down next to him. He glanced over and I had his full attention.

'Are you interested in books, Inspector?'

'I like José Saramago.'

'Really? You surprise me.'

'He has the same attitude to punctuation that I do.'

'You don't need it.'

'Or maybe he's no good at it,' I said, thinking. 'It's a solution, isn't it?'

He nearly smiled. I nodded in the direction of the door and we left the building. We sat outside the café on white plastic chairs. He ordered a bica. I had a glass of water this time. He took one of my cigarettes. I let him.

'How's it going, Inspector?'

'I'm off the case.'

'Is this a social visit?'

'I've been through a lot these past few days.'

'How many of them did you spend in the tacos? '

'I didn't say yours had been a beach party.'

'It hasn't.'

'I had my house turned over.'

'It wasn't me.'

'By some Narcotics agents.'

'Sharks'll eat anything, even each other, you know that.'

'Who do you think organized it?'

'You're the detective.'

'Why did you end up three or four nights in the tacos?'

'Because you put me there.'

'And who gave me your phone number?'

He bounced against the back of his white plastic chair.

'You're cleverer than you look, Inspector.'

'That's why I used to have a beard, so that people wouldn't see the stupidity.'

'And now it's all out in the open.'

'Can you think of any reason why Dr Oliveira should give a damn about you?'

'It would be curious if he started now,' he said, 'because we've never met.'

'Before your studio went up I had time to leaf through your bank statements,' I lied.

'Well that's the kind of interesting person you are, Inspector.'

'I didn't find a loan account and not one repayment detail in your current account.'

'So what are you saying now, Inspector? That Dr Oliveira bought the equipment for me? If you are, you're off your head.'

'Am I?' I said, and left him with a small bill for a bica and a bottle of water.

I called Carlos who'd contacted all the people from the bus queues.

'Two women saw the car parked outside the school with the engine running for maybe five to ten minutes.'