"You spent all Sat.u.r.day night in the lobby?"

Raimundo scratched his head nervously. "Sat.u.r.day, Sat.u.r.day . . ."

"Sat.u.r.day night."

"Yes."

"Why are you so nervous?"

"This police business, sir. I'm not used to it."

"I'm certain you didn't spend the entire night in the lobby. You either went off or slept. Which was it?"

"I don't understand, sir."

"It's no good lying, Raimundo. I'll find out, and you'll be charged."

"What is it you wanna know?"

"Just talk."

"I did leave the desk for a moment."

"What for?"

"A friend of mine came here . . . A maid here in the building . . . Well . . . We went to my room . . ."

"At what time?"

"One in the morning."

"How long did you stay here?"

"Two hours, sir. If the manager finds out, he'll fire me . . ."

"You said that on Sat.u.r.day the residents on the eighth floor had no visitors."

"They did have one. A black guy."

"Do you know his name?"

"No, sir."

"Describe him."

"A large Negro, bossy. A mean face."

"Bossy?"

"He came through and gave me a dirty look."

"Describe him."

"He was wearing a coat and tie."

"His face."

"A wide face, frowning."

"Why didn't you tell me about that black guy before?"

"Dona Luciana told me not to say anything to anybody."

"Did anyone else visit the apartment that night?'

"Maybe someone came and left while I was, I was-"

"How was it that Dona Luciana asked you not to mention the black guy?"

"She said he was there to do a job in the apartment and that she didn't want anyone to know about it."

"What job?"

"I think it's some kind of mac.u.mba business, a votive offering, that sort of thing. I don't understand any of that, sir, I don't believe in those things. Sir, if Dona Luciana-"

"She won't know anything about our conversation. At least not for now."

"I'm shafted, sir, I'm gonna lose my job. The chain always breaks at the weakest link."

"Keep your mouth shut. Don't tell anyone about our talk."

"Yes, sir."

"If you change addresses or leave Rio, let me know beforehand. I'm going to need to speak with you again. Understand?"

"I don't know anything else, sir."

"I repeat: I want to know where you go, where you are. All the time. Don't try to run away from me."

"Yes, sir."

Mattos returned to the hallway. The elevator was stopped on the ground floor. The cop got in, pushed the b.u.t.ton for the eighth floor.

Nilda opened the door.

"Is Dona Luciana in?"

Nilda hesitated. "No, sir."

The inspector went in, pushing Nilda aside.

"Tell your mistress I want to talk to her."

Nilda returned, accompanied by the pantryman.

"Dona Luciana told me to say she can't see you. She's sick in bed."

"Can you give her a message?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell Dona Luciana I'll be back another time, to talk with her about the Negro."

THAT NIGHT, AT EIGHT O'CLOCK, as Vitor Freitas had predicted, more than four hundred officers from the air force, army, and navy gathered in the Aeronautics Club to "keep alive the indignation at the death of Major Vaz and to manifest the decision to proceed further with the inquiry into the slaughter of Major Vaz than the police have the courage to venture." There were few high-ranking officers. One of them, Brigadier Fontenelle, declared: "Despite the barbarities, I am proud of Brazil." During the meeting, Air Force Major Gustavo Borges, speaking in the name of the "commission of air force officers investigating the a.s.sa.s.sination of Major Vaz," said that he and his comrades were ready to follow to their conclusion clues the police had not investigated, because they would lead to high-placed authorities. "We ourselves will do what the police lack the courage to do!" exclaimed Borges. The audience rose to applaud him. Then Major Helder expressed the solidarity of younger army officers with their air force counterparts: "It is necessary to pursue to the end the examination of this heinous crime, which has transformed our country from a civilized nation into a domain of criminals." After the meeting, the military men distributed to the press a note in which they stated having requested the directors of the Aeronautics Club to convoke an extraordinary a.s.sembly to deal with the posthumous homage to be paid to the major and the care of his family.

SALETE AND MATTOS met for dinner at the Recreio, a barbecue restaurant on the street where the inspector lived. Salete had suggested the spot. Luiz Magalhes didn't go to barbecue restaurants.

"What's that on your forehead?" asked Salete.

"I banged it against a wall."

"Is it going to make a scab?"

"No, it's just a lump."

"Oh . . ."

Salete ordered a barbecue platter with manioc flour and a soft drink. The inspector ordered spaghetti with salt, no sauce, and a gla.s.s of milk. The restaurant had no milk.

During the meal Salete said she missed him so much it was killing her.

"We were together yesterday," Mattos said.

"But we didn't do anything . . . You had a stomach ache."

"I still do."

Salete felt a constriction in her heart. She got up abruptly, wiping her eyes. "I'm going to the bathroom," she said.

There was a mirror in the bathroom. Salete, seeing her face in the mirror, started to cry. A woman came in and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't cry, dear, men aren't worth our tears," the unknown woman said.

The woman was fat and ugly, poorly dressed. Even so, Salete threw herself into her arms to cry.

seven.

"I'M NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO SEE YOU TODAY. I'm going on a trip," said Luiz Magalhes.

"Where are you going?"

"Uruguay. Business. But I'll be back on Tuesday. What're you going to do this weekend?"

"Don't know."

"You don't know? You'd better not do anything foolish."

Could he suspect something? thought Salete. Luiz was very jealous. He had once told her he'd kill her if she betrayed him with another man.

"I think I'm going to go see that American dancer, Katherine Dunham. Or Carmelia Alves. The Queen of the Baio."

"You're too influenced by what you read in those idiotic magazines. The baio is for hicks."

"It's good for dancing."

"What?!"

"I'm not going to dance with anybody, don't worry."

"You need any money?"

"I still haven't spent what you gave me last month."

"Behave, you hear?" said Luiz, hanging up the phone.

Salete took off her clothes, put a Carmelia Alves record on the turntable, and danced the baio in front of the mirror, her arms raised, the right arm a bit higher, as if embracing a partner. In mid-dance she started to cry; her face damp with tears, reflected in the mirror, seemed less vulgar to her, more romantic-but was still ugly. She sighed, pensive: all she did in life was cry.

She was interrupted by the maid knocking at the door. The pedicurist had arrived. She wrapped a towel around herself and opened the door.

"I'm going to do the pedicure in the bedroom, Cida. Come on in. Bring the ottoman, Maria de Lourdes."

The maid brought a small cushioned stool and placed it in front of a large armchair near the window.

Cida did Salete's feet every week. There wasn't that much to do, and the pedicurist quickly finished her work. Cida hadn't brought nail polish that matched that of Salete's fingernails; that was that problem. The pedicurist had used one shade and the manicurist another, and the two professionals did not always have the same shades in their kits. Cida removed the polish from Salete's hands and painted all the nails, both feet and hands, with a polish exactly the same color, bright red.

Afterward they drank coffee that Maria de Lourdes had made.

"And Malvino? How's he doing?"

"Three days ago he showed up with a big bottle of wine, saying he's not drinking hard liquor anymore. He said that from now on he's drinking wine, which is the blood of Christ. But he hasn't changed at all. I even think getting drunk on the blood of Christ is worse."

"He's a drunk but he's yours, isn't he? He lives at your house, he's there when you need him. And me, with two men, one married and the other who doesn't care about me? There's a time at night when I look beside me in bed, and there's no one there; I get up and the apartment is empty. My apartment, like you can see, has the best furniture there is, in the living room and the bedroom, it's full of things, refrigerator, floor polisher, vacuum cleaner, blender, coffeemaker, a china set, I've even got pictures on the wall, sculptures, silver things, but a good man-zero."