Part 22 (1/2)
The two men were seeing each other for the first time. Mattos, who as a cop had acquired the habit of looking people directly in the eye, examined the face, the clothes, the abundant slicked-down hair, the athletic built that his elegant suit didn't conceal, the powerful hand with long pale fingers of the man who had married his old girlfriend. He only didn't see the eyes, for Lomagno pretended to arrange some papers on his desk.
”Please sit down,” said Lomagno, still arranging the papers.
He's taller than me. Has all his teeth. Good health, thought Mattos.
”I don't know where to begin,” said Lomagno, sitting on the other side of the desk.
Lomagno had rehea.r.s.ed with Luciana the conversation he would have with the inspector, but he had become dominated by a sudden nervousness that he couldn't control and that the other man must surely be noting. He felt hatred and fear of the policeman sitting in front of him. His opening sentence struck him as good justification for his uncertainty.
”I don't know where to begin,” Lomagno repeated.
Mattos remained silent, observing the other man. Elusive green eyes, no wedding band, he's uncomfortable in my presence. He doesn't know where to begin, because he's going to lie? Or because he's going to tell the truth?
”It's about my wife.”
Silence from Mattos.
”About Alice.”
Silence.
”She told me to get in touch with you.”
Silence.
”What did she say to you?”
”I'm here to listen.”
”It's very hard for me to say what I have to say.”
Silence. Alice when she was with him used to say similar things, thought Mattos.
”Alice isn't well, she's sick, undergoing psychiatric treatment.”
Silence.
”She told me she contacted you, told you that I . . . uh . . .”
Silence.
”. . . that I was Luciana Gomes Aguiar's lover.”
Silence.
”That's nothing but a morbid hallucination on the part of my wife. Paulo was my best friend, and I hope that you, who are investigating his murder, find the guilty person soon.”
Silence.
”She was already interned in Dr. Eiras's hospital.”
Silence.
”I didn't want to commit her, but the doctor said it was necessary.”
”Can you give me the doctor's name and address?”
”I have his card here.” Lomagno picked up a card from the desk and handed it to Mattos, who put it in his pocket unread.
”Do you know Lieutenant Gregrio?”
”What?”
”Lieutenant Gregrio, head of the president's personal guard.”
”No.”
Well, well, thought Lomagno, relieved, the cop thinks the Negro referred to by Alice and the doorman is this Gregrio. He had to check himself in order not to show his satisfaction.
Mattos's misconception gave Lomagno the courage to observe, openly, the policeman who was interrogating him. What could a refined and elegant woman from a good family, like Alice, have seen in the guy? Actually, Alice had never been a person with a lot of good sense.
”I don't know that gentleman personally, only by name. The one who knew him well was Paulo. It seems that Lieutenant Gregrio helped him obtain-overcome certain, uh, bureaucratic difficulties. You know how it is . . .”
”Be more specific.”
”You know what Brazil is like.”
”I don't know. Tell me.”
”If you had an import-export business you'd know.”
”But I don't.”
”To import or export anything you need a license from Cexim. It's not easy to get. Often the cooperation of an influential friend is necessary. Lieutenant Gregrio helped Paulo get an . . . important . . . license for his firm, Cemtex, in which I also am a partner. For Brazil to grow, businessmen need to humble themselves by asking favors.”
”Did Gregrio frequent the home of Paulo Gomes Aguiar?”
”I can't say. I do know that they met a few times . . . They had a good relations.h.i.+p . . . I wouldn't call it a friends.h.i.+p . . . Yes, I believe that gentleman did go to Paulo's house, sporadically . . .”
”Dona Luciana told me her husband was in the habit of using the services of a mac.u.mba priest. That individual would have been in their home the day Gomes Aguiar was killed.”
”It's true. Paulo often consulted him. I thought it strange that an intelligent person like Paulo would believe in such a fraud, a confidence man who exploits people's superst.i.tion. I don't think he'd be capable of committing violence.”
”Do you know him?”
”I went to his mac.u.mba site in Caxias once, with Paulo. Strictly out of curiosity.”
”Could you give me the address of that site?”
”Unfortunately, I don't know it. I don't even know how to give you correct information about the locale. But I can take you there. I think that by going to Caxias, I can end up finding the place. I remember a bar, things like that can orient me.”