The hot water enveloping his body gave him a feeling of well-being. He clutched between his fingers the rolls of fat of his belly. He had to do something to get rid of those undesirable accumulations of adipose. Exercise, diet, anything. He would like to have a belly like Lomagno’s, hard-muscled and well defined. Clemente, his adviser, had once had such a belly, but the sedentary life he was leading had left his body more and more flaccid. He made a mental note that he needed to get rid of Clemente. The adviser had gone from merely impertinent and inopportune to dangerous. But it was necessary to carry out the operation with great skill in order to avoid irritating him and provoking an unreasonable reaction.
He picked up the newspapers. No confirmation of the rumors circulating in the Senate, that Getúlio Vargas, in an effort to divide the armed forces, had named General Zenóbio da Costa to replace Air Force Secretary Nero Moura, who had waffled on the open insubordination of those under his command. Secretary Nero Moura had emphatically denied the phrase attributed to him in Última Hora that Major Vaz had not been killed as an officer of the air force. The secretary was obliged to deny this, whether he had said it or not, and could not repeat what supporters of Getúlio were spreading around the city, that Vaz was a kind of hired gun for Lacerda and had been killed as such. In the Chamber, Deputy Ivete Vargas, grandniece of the president, had asked, “Why are those guarding the president called gunmen and those guarding Lacerda called friends?”
Cardinal Jaime de Barros Câmara had sent a message to Brigadier Eduardo Gomes. It said: “With the thought of the generous traditions of the Brazilian people, formed by the stimulus of Christian civilization, it is directed to priests of all Brazil, through their most excellent bishops, the request that on the same day and hour they unite in prayer for the soul of the sacrificed aviator, a sincere Catholic, raising prayers to God for the conciliation and peace of the Brazilian family.”
The senator was convinced there was a well organized campaign under way to discredit Vargas, in which participated the church, sectors of the armed forces, elements of the business community, opposition parties, and the press. The more mud thrown onto Vargas, the better. Earlier, it was shady dealings of members of the administration that were denounced. Now, it was crimes. In January 1920, according to newspaper reports, Getúlio Vargas, with his accomplice Soriano Serra, were said to have killed Tibúrcio Fongue, chief of the Inhacorá Indian tribe. The inquiry had been quashed. Facsimiles of pages from the various inquiries were reproduced in newspapers. In 1923, Vargas, still with the complicity of Soriano Serra, was alleged to have murdered the engineer Ildefonso Soares Pinto, the secretary of public works of the then governor, Borges de Medeiros. “Soriano was arrested, but the other assassin, Getúlio Vargas, remains free to this day.”
“Vargas’s past is marked by monstrous crimes. Still a boy, he had already committed homicide,” said the Tribuna da Imprensa. In Ouro Preto, in Rio Grande do Sul, three were said to have been “slaughtered by the Vargas men and their hired guns”: the student Almeida Prado, the medical doctor Benjamim Torres Filho, and Major Aureliano Morais Coutinho. “All were killed under conditions of treachery similar to the ambush on Rua Tonelero.” The Vargas gunmen, it was alleged, “ripped Major Coutinho apart in the middle of the street after a savage mutilation of his body.” All these accusations were corroborated by a mass of documents reproduced in the newspapers.
Ripped apart. Treacherous ambush. Savage mutilation. Lacerda knew the power of words, thought Freitas; he had a good schooling in the Communist Party, where he’d been the young leader of a group known as Red Aid. An interesting path from exalted sectarian communist to reactionary Host-eating UDN leader, even more fire-breathing. In both factions he had proven unequaled in the creation of incendiary slogans. Such as “the Rat Fiúza,” which had destroyed the aspirations of the Communist Party candidate in the 1946 presidential elections, and now the “sea of mud” catch phrase that had discredited the Vargas administration.
As always, Freitas read carefully what Lacerda wrote in his paper. General Ancora, previously accused by the journalist of trying to impede the uncovering of the facts of the attack, had been fired by Getúlio and was now seen by Lacerda as a man of honor. Ancora was characterized, in Lacerda’s version, as one sacrificed because of his righteous conduct. Ancora’s removal was deemed as one more example of the “monstrous deception commanded by Vargas to shield criminals.” Lacerda insinuated, between the lines, that those behind the assassination could be the president’s brother, Benjamim Vargas; his son, deputy Lutero Vergas; the all-powerful industrialist Euvaldo Lodi; and Vargas himself—the latter, in the best-case hypothesis, being an accessory after the fact.
At the same time it was now useful for him to praise General Ancora, in another part of the newspaper Lacerda praised the new head of the DPS. Lacerda was a master of intrigue, thought Freitas, he managed to conceal with the brilliance of his oratory the enormous, sometimes cynical, contradictions of his political opportunism. The journalist was running for federal deputy in the October elections; if his election was assured before, the attack would surely make him the biggest vote-getter in Rio, maybe in the entire country. Giving power, however little, to a man with that terrible eloquence was very dangerous. It would have been better if Lacerda was killed rather than his bodyguard. Getúlio Vargas, with his old-school, monotonous, and prudent oratory, had succeed in dominating the country for a long time; what wouldn’t Lacerda do with his incendiary intelligence and his ability to use words, like no other politician in Brazilian history, to persuade, deceive, excite, mobilize people? His newspaper articles and his radio talks in recent days had led the government to place thirty thousand soldiers on ready alert just in Rio de Janeiro.
In the paper was a picture of Colonel Paulo Torres, the new chief of police. Torres had commanded, till then, the Third Infantry Regiment, quartered in the São Gonçalo district. He was forty-two, had served with Zenóbio in the Brazilian Expeditionary Force in Italy during the Second World War, and had been awarded a metal for bravery. He had been a military attaché in Rome, Paris, and London. He also had a law degree. In Brazil, everybody has a law degree, thought Freitas, including himself.
Freitas was friends with the brothers of the new head of the DPS, Acúrcio Torres, majority leader in the Chamber of Deputies in the Dutra administration, and Alberto Torres, current leader of the UDN in the legislature of the state of Rio de Janeiro. Could appointing a chief of police with family ties to the UDN be a fainthearted concession by Getúlio? Or evidence that Capanema, when he said “the president of the Republic has no desire to see this crime go unpunished,” was speaking the truth? Or both? Getúlio both innocent and fearful? It would be interesting if true.
The senator liked Capanema, an ingenuous sort who had been discredited by accepting the role of government leader in the Chamber. A man of integrity, cultured, unjustly accused of graft and stupidity: of stupidity because he had been secretary of education under the Vargas dictatorship. Every education secretary in Brazil, however intelligent, ended up being called stupid; it was a kind of curse. He, Freitas, would never accept that cabinet position.
One news item was read by Freitas with irony. The publishers of the newspapers—Elmano Cardim, of the Jornal do Comércio; Roberto Marinho, of O Globo; João Portela Ribeiro Dantas, of the Diário de Notícias; Carlos Rizzini, of Diários Associados; Chagas Freitas, of A Notícia; Othon Paulino, of O Dia; Paulo Bittencourt, of Correio da Manhã; Macedo Soares, Horácio de Carvalho Júnior, Danton Jobim and Pompeu de Souza, of the Diário Carioca—had obtained the right to have an accredited representative participate in the Rua Tonelero inquiry. Those scoundrels actually believed in the advantageous myth, which they themselves had invented, that the press was the fourth branch of government. Shrewd, the Crow—Freitas rarely referred to Lacerda by the nickname used by Vargas partisans, but that news item had turned him against all journalists—the Crow, even being the publisher of a newspaper, had refrained from signing
the petition. But he didn’t need to do so; the military who now were in control of the police investigation of Rua Tonelero were all Lacerdists. Lacerda was running the inquiry. The name of Samuel Wainer, publisher of Última Hora, was also missing from the list. Perhaps he hadn’t been invited by his peers. As if the signers of the document were attempting to demonstrate by the exclusion of Wainer and Lacerda the independence of their proposal. Two factious, antagonistic currents were clashing, and the press had chosen its side.
Freitas imagined the success of Lacerda’s inflammatory phrases at the Lantern Club meeting scheduled for that evening at the Brazilian Press Association: “Only dictators and despots protect themselves with hoodlums and thugs; Vargas’s personal guard is an affront to legal order, a disrespect for our people; Vargas will be deposed for the blood he has shed.”
The newspapers said further that José Antonio Soares, the railroad worker and friend of the personal guard Climerio Euribes de Almeida, had disappeared from his residence at 29 Padre Nóbrega, in the Cascadura district, after receiving a package from his lover Nelly Gama. In fleeing, Soares, whom the police believed to be the gunman who had shot Major Vaz, had left behind nine thousand cruzeiros, which indicated his haste. The police, under the command of Commissioner Hermes Machado, had invaded Soares’s dwelling and found only his mother and the children, terrified at the police paraphernalia. The inspector had seized Soares’s correspondence with the famous Barreto, a notorious swindler locked up in the penitentiary. In one letter, Barreto authorized Soares to receive fifty percent as an advance on the sale of fifty jeeps.
Suddenly an item, almost at the end of Lacerda’s article, sent a tremor of cold and fear through Freitas and made him turn on the hot water faucet: “I called Inspector Pastor three times without having the honor of his visit.” Lacerda, alleging that his attackers were three rather than just one, as Pastor said, wanted to confront the inspector with his testimony. Pastor’s name brought to Freitas’s mind once again, in a disturbing association, another pastor, the nosy fundamentalist that had caught him in a vexing situation, and another cop, Inspector Mattos. He left the bathroom, feeling chilled. He was in danger and needed to do something. He dressed quickly and got into the official car awaiting him at the door of the Seabra Building.
He entered the Senate chamber at the moment the Brazilian Workers Party leader, Senator Carlos Gomes de Oliveira, was defending the government. What was lamentable in the Tonelero episode, the PTB leader said, was the desire of certain extreme elements, who, mixed with communist exploitation, sought to involve the armed forces in an attempt to have them depose the president of the Republic. It was an unfolding of events whose outcome no one could predict.
Getúlio was ill served by leaders like the PTB senator, Freitas thought. That same day he began to make contacts with the PSD congressional bloc with the objective of probing the opportunity and the advisability of a change of direction. Supporting a corrupt and weak government had yielded him much good business. But now it was time to jump ship.
A PANTRYMAN OPENED THE DOOR to Luciana Gomes Aguiar’s apartment.
“I’m Inspector Mattos. Dona Luciana is expecting me.”
Mattos didn’t remember seeing the pantryman when he was at the apartment the day of the crime.
“Are you new here?”
“Yes. All the help is new. Except the cook. I’ll let Dona Luciana know.”
It took Luciana almost ten minutes to appear. She was dressed as if ready to go out, carefully made up, wearing jewels. She had a folded paper in her hand.
“Counselor Galvão told me you had some questions to ask me. Please have a seat.”
“I thought he would be present.”
“I didn’t consider it necessary.”
As soon as the inspector sat down, a pantry maid appeared, carrying a tray with coffee and sweets.
“You may leave it on the table, Mirtes.”
The maid placed the tray on a table and left. Luciana put the paper she was holding beside the tray.
“Sugar?”
“Yes.” He shouldn’t drink coffee; it would increase his hypochlorhydria. He stared at Luciana’s lovely hand stirring the cups.
“Dona Luciana, did Mr. Galvão speak to you about what the doorman Raimundo told me? That you had instructed him not to mention the visit to your apartment, the night of the crime, by a black man?”
Luciana lightly raised the cup to her lips. “I was trying to protect my husband. Foolishness on my part.”
“Protect him how?”
A resigned sigh. “From ridicule. Paulo was a very superstitious man . . . At times he would receive a . . . visitor . . . who would come to the apartment to do some macumba work . . . Since I don’t believe in those things, I asked Paulo to receive that individual when I was at our country home in Petropolis. That’s what happened that day. That, that—”
“Macumbeiro.”
“—macumbeiro, had known Paulo for many years. He wasn’t the one who killed my husband, I’m sure of that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I didn’t want it coming out in the papers that my husband was given to such vulgar practices.”
“He may be your husband’s killer. You’ve made us waste many days of investigation.”
“Why would he do something like that? My husband gave him all the money he asked for. Mr. Galvão said a thief killed my husband.”
“You said nothing was missing.”
“When I saw you, I hadn’t done an inventory of things that disappeared. There was a lot of jewelry. I have a list of it here.”
She handed the inspector the paper beside the tray.
“The only jewels left are these I’m wearing, which I had taken with me to Petropolis.” Mattos put the paper in his pocket.
“Do you know where I can find that macumba priest?”
“All I know is that he lives near Caxias, where he has a macumba site.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t.”
AT THE MEETING of Aeronautics Club members held that Tuesday, instead of the four hundred officers at the August 6 meeting, there were more than two thousand, from every branch of the armed services. The attendance of higher-ranking officers—generals, brigadiers, admirals—had surprised everyone present.
Brigadier Eduardo Gomes spoke and received a standing ovation. His words were moderated compared to those of other military men who spoke. “In the sacrifice of this fearless life is symbolized the devotion of the military to the truths most dear to our civilization. It honors the glorious memory of Major Vaz. Let us pray that God will receive him in the peace of the just.”
Maritain was quoted by Major Jarbas Passarinho: “When authority loses its character of legality, it is not he who rises up against it who is illegal, but rather he who bows down to it.”
The military man has a single commitment, that of maintaining and defending the Constitution at the sacrifice of his own life, stated Brigadier Godofredo de Faria, who accused the executive power of extremism, the legislative power of sitting on its hands, and the judicial power of absenting itself. “We do not want to be mercenaries for a perverse and traitorous government. We generals are not complying with our duty. Let us be worthy of the uniforms we wear.”
The division of the country into forces that defended corruption, robbery, and assassination and forces that defended dignity and the fatherland was denounced by Colonel José Vaz da Silva, who appealed for unity among the armed forces to “crush the rattlesnake that has bitten the country for twenty-five years. We shall not hide behind some vague principle of indiscipline. Indiscipline was the movements of the Seventh of September, the Fifteenth of November, and the Twenty-ninth of October in our nation.” October 29 marked the day Vargas was forced to resign, in 1945, in a military coup led by the then secretary of war, General Góes Monteiro. Vaz da Silva concluded his words with an entreaty to Brigadier Eduardo Gomes to once again feel
the youthful ecstasy that had impelled him to march from Copacabana Fort in 1922.
Colonel Adyl, who had solicited the secretary of justice to confer police power on the air force men who were taking part in the Tonelero investigation, listened ill at ease to Air Force Colonel Ubirajara Alvim declare, in a fantastic and unlikely account, that he had dressed as a tramp to investigate on his own and had arrested Tomé de Souza, brother of Nelson Raimundo de Souza, who drove the car of the killer. Tomé, it was alleged, had told him that the crime had been ordered by Deputy Lutero Vargas. “It is essential to arrest that music-hall deputy.” His testimony created a sensation among those present.
The only voice raised in defense of the government, received with cold hostility, was that of Air Force Colonel Hélio Costa. The death of Major Vaz, according to the colonel, had provoked spurious demonstrations; when he was killed, Major Vaz was not carrying out an official mission, nor was he in uniform; the offense of the murder hadn’t been directed at the air force; adventurers were trying to lead the armed forces to disorder and indiscipline.
The grumbles following Hélio Costa’s words were replaced by applause when an army captain, after terming as unquestioned leaders Brigadier Eduardo Gomes and General Juarez Távora, exclaimed: “Let us leave to our chiefs the hour of decision!”
Finally, the assembly resolved to invite the lawyer Evandro Lins e Silva to lend legal assistance, as part of the prosecution, to Major Vaz’s family.
AROUND MIDNIGHT, Senator Freitas received a phone call from a “palace friend,” saying that President Vargas was rumored to have met secretly that night with his family and some close friends, among them his son-in-law Amaral Peixoto and Secretary Oswaldo Aranha, in his daughter Alzira’s apartment on Avenida Rui Barbosa. The objective of the meeting was to discuss the political situation in the country. The meetings held that morning between the secretaries and the Army High Command were discussed. Vargas was thought to have said that he considered the situation grave and added that he would resign, if necessary, to avoid a civil war in the country. The consensus among those present had been that the president shouldn’t give in to the government’s political enemies pushing for a coup.
Crimes of August: A Novel: 5 (Brazilian Literature in Translation Series) Page 15