Rubem Fonseca - Crimes of August

They all stood up when the inspector entered. He sensed that his arrival relieved to a degree the tension among them.

“I asked Salete to wait for you. She wanted to leave, and I wouldn’t let her,” said Alice. “She came here to introduce you to her mother.”

“This is my mother,” said Salete.

The woman stood and extended her hand to Mattos.

“My daughter says you’ve been very good to her.”

Mattos shook the hand of Salete’s mother. “Pleased to meet you. I have the greatest respect and admiration for your daughter.”

“Thank you very much. My name is Sebastiana. I’m very happy to be here. . I had lost my daughter. Can you imagine, losing a daughter and then finding her again?”

“Alice was very nice,” said Salete.

“Very nice,” her mother repeated.

“Salete is the one who was nice,” said Alice.

The second surprise: a console with a new record player, a pile of LPs, wrapped packages of various sizes scattered on the floor, a new double bed.

“What’s all this?” asked Mattos, pointing to the packages on the floor.

Alice, looking at Salete: “We’ll talk about it later. . We used to go together, we almost got married, didn’t we, Alberto?”

“But now he’s my boyfriend,” said Salete.

“I won’t argue,” said Alice.

Mattos also wasn’t about to argue with anyone. “I’m going to have a glass of milk,” he said. He got the milk from the refrigerator and went into the bedroom. He felt the springs of the new bed yield under the weight of his body as he drank the milk. Dr. Arnoldo: She behaves prodigally. One on occasion she gave me a gold watch.

The two younger women remained in the living room, staring at opposite walls.

Sebastiana, respectfully: “Do you still have your mother, dear?”

“My mother died.”

“From what? Poor thing.”

“Cancer.”

“That’s a very bad disease.”

“Don’t let’s talk about sad things, Mommy.”

“I was just trying to break the silence.”

“Is he going to want to be with both of us?” asked Salete.

“That’s impossible,” said Alice.

“Salete’s father had ten at the same time.”

“Being with ten is less complicated than being with two,” said Alice.

“He was a butterfly. Said that women were flowers. A handsome and sly Portuguese man,” said Salete.

“Salete looks a lot like him. The spit and image of her father.”

“I’m not pretty.”

Mattos came back into the room.

Salete and Alice looked at him apprehensively.

“Your mother is a very nice lady. I’d enjoy having another opportunity to chat with her. . I, I—”

“Would you like us to leave?” Salete placed both hands on her chest. She thought her heart would burst.

“It’s not that. I just need to have a private conversation with Alice. Please. I’ll call you later.”

“Let’s go, daughter. The young man is asking.”

Salete felt like crying but contained herself. She wasn’t going to make a scene in front of that blonde hussy.

As she left, she averted her face so Mattos couldn’t kiss her. And also so he wouldn’t see her damp eyes. She ran to the door, followed by her mother.

Mattos and Alice alone.

“Where did my sofa bed go?”

“I told the men to get rid of it.”

“Are you taking your medications?”

“I don’t need medications. I feel perfectly fine. Don’t believe what others say.”

“Why’d you buy all that?”

“For you. Want to listen to an opera on the new record player? L’Elisir d’Amore . It has that aria, ‘Una furtiva lagrima,’ that made you cry when you were a child.”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Put down that record and come sit next to me. Please.”

Alice sat down in a chair beside Mattos.

“Alice, pay attention. I can’t accept this. I’m going to have to return it, I’m very sorry.”

“It’s all paid for. The store won’t take it back.”

“Then I’ll give it to an old folks’ asylum.”

“Old people are deaf and don’t like opera.”

“I’m not joking, Alice.”

“Want to know what old people in asylums like? Candy and visits, to talk. The women also like cologne, lipstick, and face powder.”

“I’m not joking, Alice.”

“I know because my governess was institutionalized—”

“All of this has to go out of here.”

Alice began to cry. “Then leave the bed, the operas, the china, the glasses, and the silverware.”

Mattos looked for another antacid in his pocket. Nothing. The neighbors in the next apartment began arguing loudly. He closed the window. Turned on the light.

“All right. Let’s listen to L’Elisir d’Amore .”

“Your cups are very ugly, and all of them are chipped,” said Alice, laughing, as she put the LP on the new record player.

DONA MARIA LEFT TINGUÁ very early Sunday morning, taking advantage of a ride from Onofre Braga, who was going to Rio to visit a sick relative.

Arriving at Vilar dos Teles, Dona Maria phoned an acquaintance of hers, Lieutenant Niemeier, of the air force.

Some time later, two private automobiles stopped in front of 57 Santa Isabel. The cars were marked with two white crosses, one in the back windshield, the other on the rear window. Twenty-six private cars, identified by white crosses, carrying officers of the three armed forces, were helping in the search for those involved in the crime of Rua Tonelero.

“Done Maria, this is Colonel Aquino,” said Lieutenant Niemeier. “Tell him what you said to me on the phone.”

Dona Maria was listened to attentively by the military men.

“You’re sure the man is Climerio?”

“Mr. Oscar said his name was Almeida.”

“Who’s Mr. Oscar?”

“His friend. The two of them were together at Mr. Simplício’s store. Like I said, that man is staying at Mr. Oscar’s farm.”

“What does he look like? Can you describe him?”

“He’s more or less your height. He’s got a pockmarked face. Talks like he’s from Rio Grande do Sul.”

“Exactly where is the farm located?”

“It’s near Tinguá, on a hill. I’ve never been there.”

“Tinguá is in the Baixada Fluminense,” explained Niemeier.

After hearing Dona Maria’s account several times and asking her not to speak about it with anyone, as it could hurt the measures they were going to take to catch the killer, the military men got in their cars and left.

Before the cars pulled away, Dona Maria said to Colonel Aquino loudly so the others in uniform could hear, “For Mr. Carlos Lacerda I’d do anything.”

LUCIANA phoned Lomagno.

“Know what I’d like to do today? Have lunch at the Jockey Club and watch the horse races.”

“So would I, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What if we meet there on Beira Mar?”

“I’m expecting a phone call.”

“Who from?”

“Chicão.”

“Chicão? What does he want?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t in when he called.”

“We could take a trip.”

“Let’s wait a bit.”

“My life is so tedious. . Sundays are such a bore. . Has Alice come back from São Paulo yet?”

Lomagno hesitated. “Not yet. I discovered she took the diary she was writing.”

“Diary?! That’s so childish. I kept a diary when I was twelve. What the devil does she write about in the diary? Her fits of insanity?”

“She doesn’t have fits of insanity.”

“Now you’re defending your sweet little wife?”

“It’s not like that at all. I just don’t like for you to speak ill of her. You know that.”

“What does she write about in that little diary of hers? Eh?”