“What facts are you referring to, ma’am, when you say your son has nothing to do with them?”
“I’m referring to the deaths of the girl and the foreigner.”
“Why do you say that your son has nothing to do with them?”
“It’s not that he has nothing to do with them; in fact, he was the starting point for the events—or, rather, not so much him, but the foreigner’s prediction. He was only the victim.”
“There are strong links between your son and those deaths.”
“My son didn’t kill those people.”
“Why do you say that, ma’am?”
“Because I did.”
Espinosa and Welber leaned toward Dona Alzira, as if to hear something they hadn’t quite caught.
“What are you saying, Dona Alzira?”
“Just what you heard. I killed them.”
Her voice was steady and unafraid. There was no anger in it: there was haughtiness and pride, as if awaiting praise for the crimes she had just confessed. Dona Alzira didn’t even move her hands, crossed on top of the purse she was hugging to her body.
“Ma’am, are you aware of the implications of what you’ve just said?”
“Of course I am. I’m confessing to two murders, even though I don’t consider them to be murders.”
“Did you act in self-defense?”
“In a manner of speaking. Not in my own defense, but in my son’s.”
“And can you tell me how you killed them?”
“Of course. But it will take a while.”
“Don’t worry about that; we’ve got all the time you need.”
“Well, it’s hard to say exactly when it all started. I might say it was when Father Crisóstomo refused to help me combat evil. I think he’s old, he’s lost the strength of the old Christian soldiers, he’s gotten too comfortable. He was a tiger when he still believed in exorcism, but now he’s a house cat. I told him that my Gabriel had been taken over by the forces of evil, that we had to do something quickly before he was destroyed, but Father Crisóstomo didn’t pay me any mind. He said that all Gabriel needed was to get married and start a family—as if he didn’t have a family already, as if I didn’t exist, as if there was some void that another woman needed to fill. Men don’t understand what it is for someone to come out of your own body, to be part of you, and to still be part of your body even after they leave it. You’ll never know what it is to be a mother.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with the deaths.”
“Everything, Officer. When something attacks my son, it attacks my own body; when something attacks his soul, it attacks my soul as well. So as soon as I heard about the prediction that spirit of darkness had made, I didn’t have any doubt that he was an agent of evil. And my son also understood that, which is why he came to you to ask for protection and help. And you were a good man, Officer. But evil is insidious; it takes over every inch of even the best man; it subverts him, and that’s what happened to you. Evil takes on unpredictable forms, and the most powerful of them all comes in the form of woman. You didn’t realize it, but just after the foreigner’s prophecy, the demon appeared in the form of two women. One for Gabriel, one for you, trying to break down your souls. So much that you, sir, who had listened to my son’s problem with sympathy, were soon in love with one of them, completely taken over by her. The same thing happened with Gabriel, but he resisted more. Didn’t you notice how much the two looked alike? In fact, they were two forms of the same being. I managed to destroy one of them.”
Espinosa was speechless. Welber, as he was taking all of this down, looked at the woman in front of him, who was confessing to two murders as if she’d stolen her neighbor’s pudding recipe.
“Can you give us the details of how you carried out these two murders?”
“That’s what I’m doing. The girl took more work. I started riding the subway with her. Gabriel had told me that sometimes they met in the subway on the way to work, and he’d mentioned the name of her station. I started taking the same train. I never introduced myself. I let her get used to seeing me on the platform. I needed a few days before the ideal conditions appeared. One day, when the train was approaching and the crowd was moving toward it, I saw her at the edge of the platform. It was perfect, better than I’d ever expected. As soon as the train entered the station, I pretended to trip, and with a little nudge of the shoulder everything was taken care of. Nobody noticed what had happened before she fell on the tracks, and even if they had the most they could have said is that they saw a lady lose her balance and bump into the girl. A tragic accident. But nobody noticed anything. I took advantage of the confusion, left the station, and got in a cab.”
Dona Alzira looked at Espinosa as if expecting a compliment. Welber took down the last sentences and Espinosa waited for the next part of the story. After a few seconds, the noise of computer keys was replaced by the continuous sound of traffic coming through the closed window.
“And what about the foreigner?”
“That was easier, since I didn’t need to prepare. Gabriel had gotten his address in a hospital, and wanted to meet with him to clear everything up. But my son is pure, Officer. He doesn’t know what evil is; he doesn’t know the schemes of Satan. I decided to act before he could, especially when I realized that he’d bought a gun. One morning, before he woke up, I switched the gun he carried in his coat pocket for my husband’s old revolver. They were the same weight and size; he wouldn’t notice the difference. As soon as he left for work, I went to the guy’s address. It was a ground-floor apartment. I rang the bell, but nobody was home. I came back in the afternoon, but there was still nobody there. The building doesn’t have a doorman or anyone to watch over the garage, because there isn’t a garage. I went back one more time in the evening and stood waiting in a small alleyway outside the building. After more than an hour I saw the couple arrive, and then I saw the light come on inside the apartment. I decided to ring the doorbell and fire as soon as the door was opened, and I was already walking toward the door when I heard the sound of the side window being opened. The window was protected by burglar bars and was only a few inches above my head. When the man finished raising the blinds and the window, I moved close and whispered his name. He came up to the window to see who was calling him. I lifted the revolver and fired. To my surprise, nobody showed up after the shot. It was during prime time, so everyone else in the building was watching TV. I heard the woman scream. I put the gun in my purse and left in the dark, toward the street. There was nobody around. I kept walking casually down the sidewalk, and after a block I came upon the São João Batista cemetery. I walked toward the chapel and saw that they were holding services on the second floor. I thought I’d be safe there. As soon as I entered, I went to the toilet; I needed to get rid of the gun and I didn’t want to throw it onto the street—I didn’t know if it was registered. In the bathroom I removed the bullets and stuck them in my purse with the gun. I saw a room where there were only two women talking, standing in the doorway. I waited for them to leave. Inside, there was only a coffin with a dead man. I went in, made the sign of the cross, and stuck the gun under the body. It was all very quick; nobody saw me enter or leave.”
At that point, Dona Alzira paused.
“Backing up a little,” said Espinosa, “when you were in the alleyway waiting for the fortune-teller—was there any light there?”
“No. I don’t think so. If there was any light, it was really weak. It was dark.”
“Were there any garbage cans? According to your account, it’s a service area.”
“I don’t remember. As I said, it was dark; I couldn’t see what might be there in the alleyway.”
“But you’d been there during the day. You don’t remember any details about it?”
“I was focused on the movement in the building. I don’t remember details like that. I was worried about the fortune-teller.”
“When you left the cemetery chapel, what did you do?”
“I just walked out, as if I was leaving a wake, which in fact I was. I got on a bus. I arrived home right before Gabriel did and put the bullets in the box, which I knew he’d hidden away. When he walked in, we talked about whether he should leave his revolver with me. I don’t even think he noticed that the guns had been switched.”
“Why did you take the trouble to bring the other gun to me?”
“Because I knew you’d have it examined. Since it wasn’t the crime weapon, any suspicion that Gabriel had done it would be removed. I didn’t think that you’d count the bullets and notice that one was missing. When Gabriel told me last night that you’d interrogated him about that, I decided that it was time to clear everything up. And that’s what I’m doing now.”
“Are you aware that you’re confessing to two murders?”
“Officer, I’m completely aware of everything I’m doing.”
“Does anyone else know about this?”
“My father confessor.”
“And Gabriel?”
“My son doesn’t know anything. I’d rather you didn’t tell him; I need to do that myself.”
There followed a long silence, which Espinosa interpreted as a sign that the confession was over.
“Detective Welber will print out a copy of your deposition. After reading it carefully, I’d like you to sign it.”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“No. You came here of your own free will, and we know your address, so there’s no need to arrest you. Besides, we need to confirm several parts of your story. Do you remember which room it was in the chapel where you hid the gun?”
“It was on the second floor. In two of the rooms there were a lot of people; the others were empty. It won’t be hard to find.”
“I’d like you to come back tomorrow, along with your son and a lawyer.”
“Why my son? What do you still want to know?”
“I told you that your testifying doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have to. Besides, there are still some details—”
“Why don’t you ask now?”
“Because it’s important that your son be there.”
Welber handed Espinosa her testimony, and he passed it to Dona Alzira.
“Please, see if this reflects what you’ve told us.”
Dona Alzira read the deposition carefully, signed it, and handed it back to Espinosa. Then she got up, fixed her hair, said good-bye without offering her hand, and walked toward the door, grasping her purse to her chest with both hands.
“Espinosa, that lady could take out an army.”
“I agree. You can do that by pressing a button. There’s a big difference between that and firing in a man’s face from a few inches away, or pushing a girl under the wheels of a train.”
“Do you think she’s lying?”
“Just because she’s confessed doesn’t mean it’s true. The story about hiding the gun in the coffin is obviously true—she couldn’t make that up. But whether she did it herself is another story. We’ll have to exhume the body. Try to find out whom the two ladies were mourning on the second floor of the chapel.”
On Friday morning, Espinosa ate breakfast alone again. Irene had gone back home the day before. The walk to the station took place under a gray and windy sky. The day passed without either Dona Alzira or Gabriel putting in an appearance. Espinosa sent them a written subpoena. No word from Irene. He didn’t call either. That night, he fell asleep reading a crime novel he thought he might have already read. He drifted off to the sound of trees shaken by the wind. The next day was Saturday.
When, the next morning, he opened his door to get the newspaper, he was greeted by Petita, who was frenetically wagging her tail while waiting for her owner to make it up the last flight of stairs.
“I brought your paper from downstairs.”
“Thanks, Alice. We still aren’t seeing very much of each other, are we?”
“You seem to be busy.”
Espinosa thought she was being ironic, but he pretended not to notice. Alice knew that he wasn’t very talkative before breakfast.
“Next week you can pick up Neighbor. Don’t you want to visit him one more time before he comes over?”
“Fine. Tomorrow morning we’ll visit our friend.”
The coffeemaker was plugged in and the bread was in the toaster. Espinosa glanced at the headlines, took his first sip of coffee, and the telephone rang. It was Irene, suggesting lunch. At least she wasn’t in São Paulo. The toast popped up, he took another sip of coffee, and the phone rang again. He thought it must be Irene again, adding something to the message. He got up to answer.
“Officer Espinosa?”
“Yes.”
“My mother died.”
“Gabriel! Where are you?”
“At home … with her.”
“How did she die?”
“Gas.”
“How do you know she’s dead?”
“There’s no doubt.”
“Did you tell anybody?”
“No.”
“I’m on my way.”
He gulped down the rest of the coffee, called Welber, rattled off some instructions, got dressed, and left. When he reached the building in Flamengo, Gabriel opened the door before he could even ring the bell. He was barefoot, wearing shorts and a sweater with no shirt beneath it. His hair was rumpled.
“I opened the windows and shut off the gas. I didn’t touch the body. I couldn’t.”
Espinosa could still smell the gas. Ground-floor apartments are hard to air out, and Gabriel hadn’t opened the living-room door. Dona Alzira was seated on the floor in front of the oven; the door was open. Espinosa figured she’d been dead for several hours, probably since the early morning.
“She closed the kitchen door and the window, covered the cracks with tape, and turned on all the burners on the range and the oven. I only found her this morning, when I woke up. She was careful to cover the crack under my bedroom door with a wet towel, from the other side.”
“Did she leave a note?”
“No.”
“Were you with her last night?”
“We had dinner together. We went to bed early.”
“What did you talk about over dinner?”
“Nothing special. We didn’t talk much.”
“Did she tell you about her deposition the day before yesterday?”
“What deposition? She gave a deposition Thursday?”
“I’ll talk to you about it later. She didn’t say anything at dinner that hinted at what she was going to do?”
“She was a little anxious and said she was going to take a sleeping pill. It was a normal conversation.”
Espinosa called the Ninth Precinct, three blocks away, and told them what had happened. Fifteen minutes later, two policemen arrived. Espinosa explained that he’d been called first because he knew the family. He let the detectives conduct the preliminary investigations. The forensic people arrived a few minutes later. Espinosa stayed in the apartment for a while, waiting for Gabriel to change clothes and answer the detectives’ questions. He left the numbers where he could be reached.
On his way home, Espinosa thought about how odd it was for an almost sixty-year-old lady, profoundly religious and until then morally irreproachable, to seek out a policeman to confess, not without pride, that she’d coldly and with premeditation murdered two people she didn’t even know on the basis that they were servants of the devil. She believed she’d acted in legitimate defense of her son, and she didn’t feel the least bit of guilt for what she’d done. The day after her confession, she had dinner with her son, said good night, and killed herself without so much as leaving a note. Espinosa wasn’t sure the story hung together very well.
Once he got back home, he made himself another cup of coffee. The wind was still blowing in the square outside. He called Welber again. He asked him to make copies of Dona Alzira’s deposition and send them to the Ninth, Tenth, and Nineteenth Precincts, together with the
report on her suicide. He would call again later to explain.
That afternoon, he picked up Irene. They chose a restaurant on the Avenida Atlântica, facing the sea, even though he wasn’t convinced that the ocean view would erase the image of Dona Alzira on the kitchen floor.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Gabriel’s mother.”
“What about her?”
“She died.”
“She died?”
“Killed herself.”
“Because of her son?”
“It seems it was because of herself.”
Espinosa explained about the confession and repeated what Gabriel had said about his mother’s suicide.
“Espinosa, I don’t think that woman committed those crimes.”
“Did you know her?”
“I’ve never seen her in my life, but I don’t think that a sixty-year-old lady would commit two murders in such cold blood.”
“She was a religious fanatic. Precisely because they’re religious fanatics, certain people feel the need to go around killing the agents of evil.”
“And what happens now?”
“Now she’s dead, and copies of her testimony are being sent to the three precincts involved.”
“Do the confession and suicide mean that the case is closed?”
“For the other precincts, probably.”
“And for you?”
“Not quite. The gun hidden in the coffin will confirm Dona Alzira’s story—she wouldn’t make that up, knowing we could check it—and the other precincts will be happy to chalk up one more case solved. But in fact nothing is clear. Not even her suicide.”
“She didn’t kill herself?”
“I can’t swear it. Technically, Gabriel could have killed his mother. The sleeping pill he said she took could have been tampered with. She was small and thin; it wouldn’t have been hard to move the body from her bedroom to the kitchen, and then all he’d have to do was turn on the gas.”
“But what about the details in her deposition? She couldn’t have made it all up.”
“She could have heard it from her son.”
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