by Wudson Silva
Certain things in this world only happen to me. It is ridiculous to be seating on the shadow of this chestnut tree, the last stop of a bus that never gets here on time.
No wonder! With that lousy driver. I mean, they all are bad, no bus would get here on time. It is an endless line of people getting on and off buses, waving goodbye to their friends, sending goodbyes to the entire family and leaving the impression that they will never ever see each other again.
I know there is no one that enjoys travelling through this dusty and bumpy road during this heat.
And I have to stay here, waiting someone that I never saw before in my life only because the bastard district attorney repelled the result of the investigations made by the Chief of Police and demanded the presence of a detective from the capital to help in the investigation?
That miserable bastard called me incompetent right to my face! And, as if this wasn't enough, the irresponsible Chief of Police goes on a trip and leave me with this big problem.
These things only happen to me.
The damm bus is here, finally, late, of course.
I won't even get up to welcome the detective. After all, he will be the first strange to get here with a lot of bags and asking for information.
Said and done!
He had his back turned to me, about sixty years, crookbacked, grizzled and nearly bald: a huge baldness up to the back of the head. By his look he must be a pain in the ass. While he asked for information, I started picking up the pile of bags next to him.
— Isaías? — said the old man.
It was not the detective, he was my uncle Pedro that was talking to the fare collector.
— Ok, my boy, my nephew will help me carry the bags.
What a day! Now I have to drive my uncle home, and late on drive back to accompany this miserable detective to the hotel…
— Ok, you may drive your uncle home, I wait. — said a man taller and younger than I am. Appeared between the other passengers and read my thoughts.
— So, this is Rio Vermelho. — proceeded, keeping a half-hearted smile on his face and observing the houses around the square. — I will wait for you over there, in one of those benches close to the church. I heard that there are bullet holes from a shooting with a Chief of Police. Even the church got hit. The walls and palm trees are filled with bullets…
Bad news travel like wildfire. Definitely, he did not look like a detective at all!
— You were called last week — I said — Why did you take so long? Rio Vermelho is not that far, is it?
— I had to solve some problems with an iconoclast.
— Problems with whom?
— Never mind. This is another story. Go on, take your uncle home and we talk later, ok?
I waved goodbye and got into the Variant with my uncle gabbling nonstop. He wanted to know how was my mother, once the news that she was hospitalized had been a shock, and old people tend to think the worst.
Mammy really had little time to go, but I decided to tell him she was recovering. I did not want to hear all that crap about taking her to a better hospital. Everyone goes to a better hospital, however, the doctors and nurses are always the same old crap.
I left uncle Pedro at my home — a nice complement to my family: a stupid wife, two sons and a daughter with no charms at all and, now, a gabbling and evangelical uncle.
I drove back thinking about the price of the gasoline that, certainly, was not going to be refunded.
I parked my car close to the church and sat down on the bench to the opposite direction of the square, a visible place to the eyes of that detective. Despite of the half-height rails surrounding the flower-beds I could see him, so he could see me as well. I hope he realizes I am in a hurry!
But he seemed so distracted that he did not notice I was there. It looked like he was doing magic to a bunch of children that live on the square. You have to be a child to fall for that crap. Since it was taking a long time, I decided to get closer, to watch him doing magic.
Suddenly, on the sidewalk, there she was, Eva, the Mayor’s daughter: blond hair, rosy skin, with a slim waist, just sixteen years of age, with everything on the right places and with a dress blowing with the wind. I desired to be the wind at that time… the day is even more colorful.
Eva passed-by right in front of the detective’s eye and he didn’t even notice! How can someone that looks like a guy not look at someone looking like her? He is a faggot, there is no other explanation!
Finally, he stood up and walked towards me.
— Nice to meet you, my name is Clóvis, and I am not a faggot.
— Why would you say this?! — I freaked.
— Because… well… because every time I play with children, people think I am a faggot, that is why. They were throwing rocks at a poor pigeon that was building its nest on one of the palm trees on the square. So, I called them to perform some magic and make them forget about the poor bird.
— Oh, good! — I snarled — Children today have no respect, let alone birds. Where are your bags?
— This is it — he replied showing his backpack.
— How long do you plan to stay?
— Seven days should be enough.
— Do you want to solve this crime in only seven days?
He shook his head affirmatively and kept his eyes fixed on the pigeon’s flight that did a sharp descend close to him and went back to the nest, in a hole on the top of one of the old palm trees in the square. He was amazed, he had the silliest look on his face, as if he had never seen a pigeon before.
I walked him to the hotel, so close to the square that we took no more than three minutes to get there. I decided to go on foot and avoid him looking inside my Variant.
— If I knew that the hotel was so close, I would not give you so much trouble — he said, right outside that joint.
— I have nothing to do. It is good, this way time flies by fast.
Mayor’s daughter passes by once again, this time riding her bicycle. I wish I were her seat.
— Clóvis, look at the prize of Rio Vermelho, the mayor’s daughter…
— By the way — he interrupted me — what is your name?
— My name is Isaías. Look! — I insisted — She took off her dress and put on some shorts, lucky day!
— The day is even more colorful! — he said.
I put my entire attention on him: that sentence had just crossed my mind!
— Well, Isaías, I will be tomorrow morning at the police station. We will interrogate that sorcerer that is in jail and, following, we will see who are the other parties in this case.
— I find it weird for you to say that you are capable of solving this problem in only one week…
— I intend to leave on Monday, and with this case solved.
— I got you. However, for what you read on the report, do you think that Judith’s murderer is not the sorcerer?
— I already solved enigmas that baffled everyone. Things published on the first page of newspapers. If the sorcerer is guilty, we will find out tomorrow. At what times does the bus leaves on Monday?
— The only time the bus leaves town is at seven in the morning. If you miss this, the next one only leaves town on the next day, why?
— Because it is exactly on this bus that I must leave.
— I have never seen someone so meticulous! Do you really think it will be that easy?
— Things get easier when analyzed from several points of view. As lower the number of points of view capable of being analyzed is, the more ignorant the human being is. I will tell you a story …
While he told his adventures as detective, Eva was near the corner of the street, heading towards the square. From where we were it was possible to see the hospital. Then I had the idea of visiting my mother and, if awake, tell her that her brother came to visit.
Clóvis ended the story and laughed. I laughed along so that he would not feel dull, but I wasn’t really listening.
— I am sorry, but I don’t drink. We may take a walk around and you may show me the city...
We parted and I ran to see the Mayor’s daughter walking at the church square, but she was gone. So, I got inside the Variant with the intention of getting home as fast as I could, what made me scratch my car floor when I drove over a speed-bump. Every time I drive over that asphalt mountain built next to the church I curse the responsible for that “speed-bump.” He could have built some less exaggerated.
I entered a street that had a single house: Judith’s. When I thought about her death, it reminded, unintentionally, that I had to visit my mother at the hospital... Never mind! I will visit her tomorrow, no later, and I will drive my uncle, also.
The night has fallen.
I took a quick bath, put on some better clothes, put on some perfume, and told Madalena, my wife, that I was going out to keep an eye on a suspect and went downtown.
Some friends and I usually hang out at the João’s bar, leaning on the cracked glass counter. Besides, It is a nice match to the cracks on the walls. João tries to hide his negligence with some posters with half-naked women displaying their curves and hands holding beer bottles and glasses.
The bar is so full of posters that you could barely see the walls. And we spend our time there, drinking, telling jokes, looking at other men's women, discussing politics, soccer and other important matters.
I commented about the arrival of the detective Clóvis to town and the story of the so called iconoclast, what I don’t even know exactly what it means. I talked about the possibilities of him guessing my thoughts. Everyone laughed off of my face and I cursed them! I hate when people mock me.
— Do you think he made a pact with the devil? — questioned David, the prison guard, bursting into laughter. Not a very good employee, but great on saying bullshit.
They kept on laughing. I looked outside the bar trying to avoid confusion, it was when I saw an individual walking in a slow pace, got into the bar and greeted me. The others realized that he was Clóvis and stopped mocking me.
— Beer? — asked João, the bar owner.
— No, thanks. I don’t drink — he thanked with a smile.
— You don’t know what you are missing! — joked, again, David, the prison guard. The others also laughed. I thought that was really dull.
— Why did you take so long? — I questioned him, getting him out of the trash-talk circle.
— I was taking a look at the gate on the back of the parish house. Someone called Elias, a butcher on that street, was curious when he saw me close to the gate and went over to know what I was doing.
— Elias is a pig! — I said — You did not shake his hands, did you?
— No, why?
— Because he doesn't wash his hands. He kills the cattle, works the entire day with the meat and has his hands filled with blood the entire time. Even so people buy meat from him.
— That is good to know — he smiled.
— What did he say?
— He explained me the position of the gate after being forced and the traces of mud on the sidewalk, left by the murderers after breaking into the parish house’s yard. Elias was the first one to witness the murder scene and he was the one who called the police.
— He already gave his deposition — I said.
— He told me, also, how the body was. A new fact to me is that he told me that Judith had her neck broken for some reason, and the police inquiry only registered a blow to the head.
— The blow to the head was so violent that broke her neck! Is there any more convincing reason?
— Would it be so simple?
— There are no traces of blood in anywhere else, other than there. Do you have a better explanation?
Clóvis remain in silence, with mystery in his eyes.
— And what difference does this make? — I questioned.
— Details are important.
— If you had seen the size of the hole on her head, you would not mind about the neck. Besides, what does that butcher Elias know about the human body?
— Little, probably, but he is a butcher and has some notion about meat, blood, muscles and bones. I noted that he demonstrated a lot of affection for her. Don’t you find it weird?
— Everyone in town liked Judith a lot.
— We crossed that street this afternoon before getting to the hotel, why didn’t you tell me that there was the crime scene?
— The gate was fixed on the same morning of the murder. I have so many things to think that I did not even remember at the time.
— Oh, good! — he gnarled.
The detective left the service aside and participate in the group’s discussions. While we talked, I noticed something weird: sometimes he looked to the walls, to the ceiling, behind people, as if he was trying to listen to something other than us talking — really as if he was hearing voices. Despite that, he talked low, without cursing, or laughing out loud as we did, but knew how to tell funny jokes, and after all everyone liked him.
— Five beers on me, please.
— Thank you — said João, with a shine to his eyes.
We rarely paid right away. I, for example, only pay my tabs when I get the payment, which is always late.
— Well, Isaías, the talking is good, but tomorrow will be a long day.
— I made a lot of discoveries today. Excess of information causes confusion and get nowhere. I need to rest. See you later!
Clóvis said goodbye and left. I looked to my clock and could not believe at the time he was leaving. Children stay out longer without any problem.
— João! — I yelled — Where are our five beers?!
— But the money was to pay for what you already got, right? — questioned the owner of the bar.
— João! — this time in a firm tone — We will have the five beers he paid, NOW!
The guys clapped their hands and, for a while, I felt like a hero. This is how I like to feel; the blood flowing with energy through my veins and the muscles swelling…
Well, I got home drunk.
Tuesday