“Come with me, please,” said the officer, pointing to the patrol post. “She can stay in the car.”
As he followed the officer, Teo felt like a man on death row. Although the December sun was shining in the sky, he felt the day grow gray and dark. He tried to record every detail of those minutes. They were his last as a free man. The future held nothing but concrete and bars. Even if he told the truth—that he’d acted in self-defense—he’d be found guilty by a jury of idiots. It wasn’t always easy to sidestep the dead rats in one’s path.
• • •
Teo squirmed in his chair. He was perspiring heavily, like a criminal. The officer had asked him to wait. Teo knew what he’d gone to do: at that exact moment, he was checking to see if the glasses in the satchel were the same as those in the civil police bulletin and confirming that the name of the missing man was indeed Breno Santana Cavalcante. There was no way out. Clarice would be taken away from him. She might testify in his favor in court. He treated me very well, she would say.
The officer returned to the room. He was holding an object that Teo was unable to identify. He sat down in front of him and gave him a long look, as if thinking about where to start.
“I feel quite awkward asking this next question,” he said. “Believe me.” He sighed and smiled. “Everything’s okay with your documents, Mr. Avelar Guimarães. But I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve had a drink recently, right?”
“Yes.”
“I brought the breathalyzer.” The officer showed him the object, which looked like a pacemaker. “By law, I have to ask you to take the test, but to be honest, it seems a bit irrelevant now.” He smiled even more, a broad grin showing most of his teeth. “I think you know where I’m going with this. We’re looking for drug smugglers who travel along this highway, not law-abiding citizens who have the odd beer here and there.”
He handed Teo his documents.
“But in order to forget it all, to get around the bureaucracy, I need to know if you can help out. In whatever way you can.”
“I have some money here,” Teo said, unable to believe his luck. He had stopped at an ATM as they were leaving Teresópolis and was prepared to pay whatever he had to. His self-confidence was back, in full.
“How much?”
“About three hundred.”
“Okay.”
The money was passed from hand to hand with the discretion of children exchanging notes in the classroom.
“Can I go now?”
“It’s all forgotten,” said the officer.
Teo shut the car door. He heard a “drive safely” through the glass but didn’t turn to answer. He hoped the officer really had forgotten everything, including Breno’s name, the glasses, and the photo he’d found in the satchel.
• • •
He left the Vectra in a covered parking lot near Mangaratiba Quay and paid for a month’s parking. The prospect of leaving his problems behind for thirty days quickly relieved him of the stress brought on by the encounter with the highway patrol officer.
He asked the parking lot employee about passenger ferries to Ilha Grande. There were no more that day, but a schooner was leaving in an hour. He used the time to withdraw money from an ATM and buy some nail polish for Clarice. He chose the most expensive one, as it was probably better quality. At a newsstand, he bought several different newspapers, from the most traditional ones to tabloids, and scoured them for anything about Breno. There was nothing. He asked the newsstand owner if he still had the previous day’s papers, but he didn’t. He returned to the car ten minutes before the schooner was to leave.
The day was still cloudless, with the sun high in the sky scorching heads. Without any difficulty, Teo opened the Samsonite on the backseat and stowed Clarice away. He had become skilled at doing it. He paid a boy with a trolley to take their luggage to the port.
The boy was talkative and curious. “Pink suitcases, mister? They the wife’s?”
“She’s not coming until tomorrow, but I came ahead to bring everything,” he said, a little annoyed.
On the schooner, he looked for a spot that was out of the way. Noisy children were playing tag, and there were a lot of tourists. The town slowly became a row of shiny little dots, while the blue of the sky merged with the blue of the waves. The schooner lurched up and down, churning stomachs.
Lost in thought, Teo barely noticed his surroundings. Worried that Clarice might be woken up by the tossing of the boat, he opened the zipper of the Samsonite a little more. He kept the syringe handy, in case there was any movement in the suitcase, and turned on Clarice’s cell. The battery was running out, but the screen indicated new messages. Breno had called more times and sent more messages. In the last one, sent on the Thursday night, he had told her he was going to find her in Teresópolis.
Three messages were from Helena asking her daughter to contact her urgently. The number of missed calls was also worrying: since their last conversation, Helena had called twenty-two times. There were eleven missed calls from another unidentified number. Teo checked his own cell: twelve calls from Helena, ten from the same unknown number. A feeling of happiness spread through his body.
On an impulse, he opened the satchel and tossed Breno’s cell into the ocean. He watched it disappear and felt relieved. Then he took the driver’s licence and credit cards and threw them into the water too. He waited for them to sink before throwing the empty wallet in after them. It was like leaving a heavy weight behind.
Teo took Breno’s glasses and was about to throw them, then hesitated. He stared at them solemnly: they were the last piece of evidence that connected him to the dismembered body. At the same time, they were a kind of trophy of his victory. He returned them to the satchel.
17
When they landed on Abraão Beach, a local woman, old and wrinkled by the sun, offered to carry Teo’s bags, recommend hotels, and take him on guided boat tours. “I can take you to have the best seafood moqueca in the region,” she added in her shrill voice.
All Teo wanted was to rent a tent.
“Where are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know. I’m finishing writing a book. I need to concentrate.”
“I can take you to a campground.”
“Are there any deserted beaches?”
The old woman studied him, a serious expression on her face. She smelled of salt and eau de cologne. “Camping in the wild is illegal,” she said as if reading a script.
“I can pay well,” said Teo. He remembered the highway patrol officer and decided to call that day “Bribe Wednesday,” then chuckled to himself.
The woman glanced around to see if anyone was listening.
“I have a cottage on Never-Never Beach. It’s out of the way. It isn’t all that comfortable, but it’s okay.”
“I don’t need comfort. It is really out of the way?”
“There’s nothing else there, believe me. Just sand and clear water. Forest and mountains behind you. Hardly anyone goes that way, only avid hikers.”
“I want to stay a month. How much will it set me back?”
The woman mumbled an outrageous price, then smiled. “Half of that goes to the wildlife rangers. To make sure no one bothers you.”
He’d have to withdraw a good chunk of his savings and watch his spending over the next few months. But Clarice was worth it.
“You’d best go to the supermarket and get some supplies before you go.”
“Okay.”
“And you’ll need to stop by an ATM too,” she said, flushing. “Payment is up front.”
• • •
In little over an hour, Teo withdrew money, bought groceries, and went to a drugstore. He bought a necklace of precious stones at a crafts shop to give Clarice for Christmas. At a newsstand, he tried once again to get the previous day’s newspapers, without success. He sat
in a café with background music and ordered some passion fruit juice, which was said to soothe the nerves, even though he didn’t feel nervous or agitated. The other customers shot him curious looks, possibly because he was carrying the large pink Samsonite.
He had arranged to meet the woman at the quay in half an hour. He thought about sending postcards to his mother and Helena but decided to phone them instead. He dialed his home number.
“I’m on Ilha Grande,” he told his mother.
Patricia was surprised. She asked when he’d be back.
“We’ve rented a room for a month. Clarice is writing her screenplay, and part of it is set here.” He didn’t mention that they were going to Paraty afterward. “We’ll be back in early January.”
“Next year?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be the first Christmas we’ve spent apart.”
“I’m a grown man, Mother.”
“And I’m getting old.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I put up our Christmas tree. I managed not to break too many balls this year,” she said nostalgically. She gave a forced laugh. Teo didn’t say anything. “I want to apologize for what I said the last time you called. I shouldn’t have suspected your girlfriend. Is everything okay with the two of you?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t her family mind her being away for so long?”
“Her mother also complained about her not being back for Christmas. But I think this time together will be good for our relationship,” he said—and speaking in the plural made him feel sensible.
“Will you call me again?”
“I might not be able to. We’re going to stay on a beach where there’s no cell reception.”
“I’ll miss you, son.”
She said it in a funereal tone that bothered him. Nevertheless he said he’d miss her too. They wished each other Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year before hanging up.
The fluidity of his conversation with his mother—and the fact that she hadn’t brought up Samson—encouraged him to phone Helena.
“Hello.” The gruff way she answered frustrated Teo. He drank the rest of his juice and motioned for the waiter to bring him another.
“It’s Teo.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.”
“Yes, we only just saw the missed calls, and—”
“You lied to me,” she interrupted him.
“What?” He decided to play dumb at any cost.
“You lied to me. Breno was there on Thursday. I’m no fool.”
How could she say something like that so categorically? The new glass of juice arrived, but he didn’t notice.
“Gulliver called me as soon as you left the hotel. The police are looking for you, and you go and make a run for it?”
“We’re not running from anything.”
“Gulliver told me everything.”
“Everything what?”
He was already thinking about what to say if she told him that the dwarf had seen Breno arrive at the hotel that night.
“He told me how he was treated when he went to your room to fix the phone. And he told me about the sudden way you took off.”
“I don’t owe you any explanations,” he said, matching her rudeness. “Clarice didn’t want to call you. She said you’re always on her case. . . . Because she’s not here at the moment, I can tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“The truth is that Breno didn’t come to the hotel. Did Gulliver say he saw him there?”
“No, he didn’t,” she replied with a dry gulp.
Teo wondered if Helena was bluffing just to see how far he’d go. “Then how can you accuse me of lying?”
“I . . .” She was so tense that she sounded hysterically funny. “Tell me what’s going on. Why did you run away from the hotel?”
“We didn’t run away. Clarice is taking her screenplay very seriously. You don’t know how important it is to her.”
“I do know. She’s my daughter.”
“Part of the story takes place on Ilha Grande. She said she’d only been here as a child and could barely remember a thing.”
“You’re on Ilha Grande?”
“Yep, we just got here. We’re going to stay on a beach for a month. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I want her to come home for Christmas.”
Teo let out a long sigh. “That’s between you and her. I insisted that she talk to you, but she doesn’t want to have contact with anyone until she finishes the screenplay. She was pretty upset when Gulliver went to our room to snoop. She was the one who suggested we come here. And I can’t exactly force her to talk to anyone on the phone.”
“Did you tell her Breno’s missing?”
“I told you I wasn’t going to,” he said. He couldn’t see any holes in his story. “Hasn’t he shown up yet?”
“No. The police called me earlier today saying they hadn’t managed to talk to you two.”
“There’s no cell reception in Teresópolis. And there isn’t on the beach we’re going to now. Tell them we’ll call when we get back.”
“The detective has asked the phone company for Breno’s call record.”
“So?”
“He’s going to see Breno’s calls here and to Clarice’s cell.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. If I come into town, I’ll call you without Clarice knowing and let you know how we are. I understand your concern.”
“Thanks, Teo.” Helena really did seem grateful. “When you think the time is right, tell Clarice that Breno’s missing. Don’t keep it from her for too long.”
“I reckon he’s going to show up anytime now. Who knows? I might even be able to spare Clarice the worry.”
“I hope you’re right. The police have also requested his credit card records. That should help clear things up.”
“Yes, it should.”
They finished the call, and Teo realized he was late to meet the old woman. He paid for the two glasses of juice and left.
The red-and-blue-striped boat was bobbing up and down among others at the quay. The name Tinkerbell was written on the side.
“That’s what they call me around here,” said the old woman, ringing the bell hanging at the front of the boat. “My name’s pretty weird.”
The bags were placed in a deposit under the deck, but Teo kept the Samsonite with Clarice in it with him. He rested against the railing in the prow, thinking about many things and the consequences of those things.
The boat pulled away from the coast. It spluttered along, reeking of burned diesel oil and fish. Teo tried to relax with the breeze on his face, but he was gripped by a feeling of insecurity. He tried to remember what there had been in Breno’s wallet: one hundred and ten reais, two credit cards, documents. . . . There hadn’t been any credit card receipts, he was sure. It was likely that Breno had paid for his bus ticket to Teresópolis in cash. At any rate, there was still a small chance that he’d bought the ticket with a credit card. Lots of people threw out credit card receipts. He did it himself all the time.
18
Clarice had woken up early in the evening, looking confused. She had asked Teo where they were and how they’d arrived there. He had proudly recounted the last few hours in detail. He had even gone so far as to mention being pulled over, but he had omitted the conversation with Helena—he still found the whole thing terribly disturbing.
Clarice was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, legs crossed on the table, staring through the window at the silhouette of a rocky outcrop. Every now and then a boat would pass in the distance, and the light would cast ghostly tree shadows on the strip of white sand of Never-Never Beach. Teo was at the counter making a Thai dressing with nuts to put on a mixed-leaf salad. I
n the wood-burning oven, he was baking rolled-up crepes stuffed with ricotta—his favorite dish. He had his back to Clarice but tried to make conversation.
“So, what do you think of the place?”
He really wanted to know what she thought of the sex but didn’t have the courage to ask. He knew the night before had made conversation complicated.
“I hope the mosquitoes don’t eat me alive,” she said, slapping her neck. “Apart from that, I prefer the pollution and infernal noise of traffic.”
They ate dinner in silence, by the light of a kerosene lamp hanging from a hook on the door. Clarice helped herself to more ricotta crepes, but made sure Teo knew she was annoyed at having to eat them with a spoon. As soon as he’d arrived, Teo had hidden the knives and forks under an old sofa.
Although the cottage had two bedrooms, he had put all their bags in the larger one. Clarice didn’t complain and actually seemed happy to be sharing a bed with him again. The advantages of the place were many: they could wear what they wanted, and she hardly ever needed to be cuffed or wear a gag in the shower, which had only cold—or “freeeezing”—water, as she pointed out in a hysterical squeal.
Little by little Clarice won back a few freedoms. She’d never go back to being the breezy young woman he’d met at the barbecue. After all, you had to give up certain things to be in a relationship. They were connected to each other. He would take her with him forever: he could no longer live or even die without her.
• • •
The days passed, hot. Teo felt a kind of pleasant tiredness. He and Clarice would walk two or three miles every morning after eating some biscuits. They’d climb the rocks, which would take just over ten minutes, and sit at the top staring at the horizon and the large boulders on the slope behind them. In the distance, they could see a flat stretch of land that almost disappeared in the mist. Teo especially liked this feeling of distance and forgetting.
On cooler days, they’d take a sandy path into the forest. They never got very far, as the vegetation was thick and they were afraid of getting lost. They’d return exhausted and sweaty, go for a dip in the sea, and rest on the deck chairs. Clarice would go into the water naked from time to time, which struck him as an invitation to get intimate again. He held back, knowing that anticipation was more exciting than consummation.
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