Rubem Fonseca - Crimes of August

“The boy was kinda gay, but he was like the Chinaman in the joke. His family found out about the incident and made a federal case out of it, and there was no way to keep Paulo Aguiar’s name out of it.”

“Chinaman?”

“A guy was at a lumber camp in the middle of the jungle, and he went to the foreman and asked how he could find a woman to dip his wick. The foreman said there weren’t any women, but there was a Chinaman. The guy didn’t go for it, what he wanted was a woman. A few months later he went back to the foreman and said: Look, fix me with up with that Chinaman, but nobody can know about it. He didn’t wanna get known as a fairy. That’s not gonna be easy, the foreman said, I’m gonna know, the Chinaman’s gonna know, and the four guys holding him down so you can cornhole him are gonna know. . You didn’t know that joke?”

“I remember now. If the boy was the Chinese, there was someone holding him down.”

“There was. Claudio Aguiar, the cousin of Paulo, who was murdered, and one Pedro Lomagno. The three took turns cornholing him.”

“What was the boy’s name?”

“It’s incredible, but the name of the boy was José Silva, page after page in the telephone book. It won’t be easy to find his whereabouts now.”

After Rosalvo left, Mattos took Gomes Aguiar’s address book from his pocket. He looked for the name of Pedro Lomagno and the telephone number.

A feminine voice answered.

Mattos remained silent.

“Hello,” the woman repeated.

The inspector hung up the phone. That one short word had been enough for Mattos to identify the person who had answered the phone.

It was Alice.

COMPACT GROUPS OF PEOPLE began coming out of the São José school. Neither Climerio nor Alcino, who carefully scrutinized everyone’s face, succeeded in spotting the journalist Lacerda. Finally, the school’s doors were shut.

Climerio gestured to Alcino, and the pair returned to Nelson’s taxi.

“Goddamn! The man had already left. See what you did?”

“I didn’t get the message till nine o’clock.”

“Let’s go to Rua Tonelero, in Copacabana. That’s where the Crow lives. Let’s see if we get lucky this time and catch up with the son of a bitch,” said Climerio. He couldn’t go back to Gregório and confess another mistake; he feared his boss’s reaction.

“That’s the man’s building there,” said Climerio when they arrived at Rua Tonelero.

Alcino got out. Climerio told Nelson to park nearby, on Paula Freitas, near the corner of Tonelero. “Wait here. Keep your eyes open.” He got out and went to meet Alcino.

“The fucker maybe already got here,” said Climerio, “but anyway we’re gonna wait a while.”

Climerio and Alcino talked for some fifteen minutes. They were about to give up when a car stopped at the door of the journalist’s building, at forty minutes after midnight. Three people got out: Lacerda, his fifteen-year-old son Sergio, and Air Force Major Rubens Vaz.

“It’s him — you see him?” said Climerio.

“The one in glasses?”

“Shit, of course the one in glasses! The other one’s his bodyguard.”

Lacerda said good night to the major and walked with his son toward the garage door of the building. Vaz headed toward the car. Alcino crossed the street and fired on Lacerda, who ran into the garage. The report of the revolver when it discharged surprised Alcino, who for some instants didn’t know what to do. He saw then that the major was approaching and grabbing his weapon. Alcino pulled the trigger again. The major continued grasping the barrel of the gun until Alcino wrenched it free from the fingers grasping it, falling down from the force he had exerted. He saw that the major had fallen also, toward the other side. Alcino got to his feet and fired again, without aiming. He heard the crack of gunfire and fled to Nelson’s taxi. A cop appeared, running and shouting, “Stop! Police!” Alcino shot at the cop, who fell. He got into the car, its motor already running.

“What about Climerio? Where’s Climerio?” asked Nelson.

“I thought he was here. Let’s go!”

Nelson accelerated rapidly. They heard another shot and the sound of the automobile being hit. It was the cop, who despite lying wounded on the ground, had fired.

Inside Nelson’s taxi, which followed Avenida Copacabana at high speed, Alcino wrapped the revolver and the six bullets in a yellow flannel cloth. Arriving in Flamengo, Alcino told Nelson to take Avenida Beira Mar; Climerio had instructed him to get rid of the gun by throwing it into the sea. He intended to do so without leaving the car.

When they came to Rua México, Alcino stuck out his arm holding the parcel with the gun, preparing to hurl it into the water, over the low seawall paralleling the sidewalk. He didn’t want to have that weapon in his possession any longer than necessary. Suddenly, Nelson swerved to avoid a car coming toward him on the wrong side of the street, startling Alcino, who dropped the cloth with the revolver.

“I dropped the gun,” shouted Alcino.

Nelson stopped the car. “Go get it.”

Alcino stuck his head out the window and looked back at the dark pavement of the avenue. Car lights shone in the distance.

“Anybody finds that piece of shit isn’t gonna turn it in to the police. A.45 is worth a lot of money.”

Tense, they waited for the car to pass.

“Better you get out. The cop at Tonelero saw the license plate. If they catch me, I’ll say it was an unknown customer who got out in Botafogo.”

“You’re gonna turn yourself in?”

“Of course not. I’ll only tell that story if they catch me. Don’t worry.”

“They’ll beat you to a pulp, and you’ll end up spilling your guts.”

“You’re forgetting I’m a cop too?”

“You’re a supplementary investigator for the state of Rio. That doesn’t mean shit.”

“I worked with Colonel Agenor Feio. It was him who hired me.”

“Anybody can be a cop in the state of Rio. Real police work for the DPS.”

Alcino got out of the taxi. He was near the American embassy. He wandered about, not knowing what to do. He leaned against a tree and urinated. Meanwhile, unseen by Alcino, a beggar who collected scrap paper picked up the parcel in the middle of the street and disappeared into the darkness.

On a small bus, Alcino went to Bandeira Square. He got out at the door of a restaurant and then took a cab to Rua Sicupira. Climerio, in addition to procuring him a job as investigator for the Department of Public Safety, had promised him ten thousand cruzeiros. The sooner he received the money, the better. He knocked at the door.

Elvira, Climerio’s wife, opened the door. Adão, one of her sons, was at her side. The two were listening to the radio.

“Where’s Mr. Climerio?”

“I thought he was with you,” said Elvira, turning her attention to the radio. “Carlos Lacerda and an air force officer have been wounded. An awful confusion.”

Shortly afterward, Alcino heard a car motor and went to the window. He saw it was Nelson’s Studebaker. Nelson and Climerio got out and examined the mark the bullet had made on the body of the car. Climerio, seeing Alcino at the window, gestured for him to come outside.

“I’ll give you the money day after tomorrow, Friday. Stay calm, we’ve got protection from higher up.”

AT THE MIGUEL COUTO HOSPITAL, after the wound in his foot from the assassination attempt was bandaged, Carlos Lacerda was transported to his apartment at 180 Rua Tonelero. In a short time the journalist was surrounded by people who showed up to offer support, among them the auxiliary bishop of Rio de Janeiro, Dom José Távora, former president Eurico Gaspar Dutra, and dozens of air force officers.