by Paulo Levy
The inspector took his hand away and continued:
“Téo, it’s important for you to understand what your situation is here. In the first place, what we’re doing is not just a simple interrogation. You don’t have to tell us you shot Councilman Nildo Borges. We, and many other witnesses who were at the funeral, saw you on top of the cemetery wall shooting a rifle. I found the weapon myself. So as regards that, there’s no doubt that you’re guilty of attempted murder. You committed the crime and that’s that. But lucky for you, Nildo is only wounded. Are we clear so far?”
The man nodded, his head still resting on his chest.
“Great. What I want to know is why you wanted to kill Councilman Nildo Borges.”
“I was hired to,” mumbled Téo.
Dornelas’ eyes lit up at this.
“Who hired you?”
With his eyes lowered, Teodósio was scratching at some dirt on his pant leg. He seemed to be getting smaller, shrinking right in front of their eyes.
“Who hired you?” insisted Dornelas. “Don’t be scared. We won’t hurt you, but we need to know who hired you to kill Nildo Borges.”
“And Dona Marina Rivera,” blurted out Téo, finishing Dornelas’ sentence in a frighteningly cold voice.
Dornelas slumped back in his chair, taken aback.
“Was it you hiding in the pantry when I knocked on the door?”
Teodósio confirmed this with a nod while Dornelas was considering something else in his mind. He decided to voice it.
“Do you mean that if I had found you there…”
“I’d have killed you too.”
“How?”
“I had a gun.”
Dornelas recalled he had not taken a gun to Marina’s house. He was truly sorry for her fate but at the same time thanked the gods he had not noticed the pantry at that moment.
“How much did they pay you?”
“Fifteen hundred.”
“Who hired you?”
The man looked at Dornelas distrustfully.
“What am I looking at?”
Dornelas took his time before answering. He thought carefully before he let the man have it:
“For Marina, twelve to thirty years, before considering the aggravating circumstances,” he said while trying to contain a vengeful urge to keep Teodósio behind bars for as long as possible. “For the attempted murder of Nildo Borges, four to twenty. Worst case scenario, you get out an old man walking with a cane. Or dead. The judge might reduce your sentence a bit for good behavior after you’ve spent a few years locked up.”
The man didn’t appear to be upset and Dornelas couldn’t understand why.
“Now tell me who hired you to kill Marina Rivera and Nildo Borges.”
“What’s in it for me?”
The question infuriated Dornelas; he told Solano to wait for him and bolted out of the room. He went to his office and picked up the phone.
“Marilda, Get me Dr. Amarildo Bustamante immediately.
“Right away.”
He hung up and stayed seated until the phone rang again. He answered it.
“Dr. Amarildo, Inspector,” said Marilda.
“Thank you.”
After clearing his throat, the boss answered.
“Amarildo, good afternoon.”
“How are you, Joaquim?”
“Hanging in there.”
Briefly, Dornelas told his boss everything about Teodósio’s testimony and the crossroad he had been put in.
“Can I offer him a plea-bargain agreement?”
“Do it. I’m sick and tired of this case. Let’s get it solved ASAP, whatever it takes.”
“Okay. As soon as I get his statement I’ll call you.”
“Great. Take care, Joaquim.”
“You too.”
They were both satisfied when they hung up. Dornelas sped back to the interrogation room, went through the door and even before sitting down said:
“I can offer you a plea agreement, which means reducing time to be served by one or maybe two thirds, possibly even a pardon – which I wouldn’t count on in your case – if you tell me who ordered the hits on Marina Rivera and Nildo Borges,” he said.
Teodósio looked at him, obviously satisfied.
“Wilson Borges.”
Dornelas turned to the mirror and yelled.
“Bring him in right now! You might find him at Peixe Dourado.”
Caparrós and Lotufo ran out of the room and the precinct to get the car.
“Were these the first jobs of this type that you did for him?” asked Solano, up to now only an interested but silent observer.
Téo shook his head.
“What kind of work do you do for Wilson Borges?”
“A little of everything. I’m the caretaker and gardener at his house, and I wash the car and I’m his driver.”
“And you kill for him too,” added Solano, irritated.
Dornelas looked at the detective and then turned to Teodósio.
“How long have you been working for him?”
“I used to work for his father. After the old man died I went to take care of Mr. Wilson’s house.”
“Did you take part in the murder of José Aristodemo dos Anjos, White Powder Joe?” asked the Inspector.
“Is that covered by the plea agreement also?
Dornelas nodded.
“Then yeah, I killed him too.”
‘Bingo!’ thought Dornelas.
“Did Wilson tell you to do that too?” asked Solano.
“Yeah.”
“Tell me all about it,” ordered Dornelas.
The man straightened up in his chair and began.
“That morning, while I was working in the garden, Mr. Wilson told me I had to do a job for him that night, handed me a syringe and a little bottle with liquid in it and told me he’d pay me an extra fifteen hundred on top of my salary.”
“What’s your salary?” asked Solano.
“A thousand reais for me and my wife with both of us legally registered as employees. She cleans and cooks.”
“Go on,” said Dornelas.
“That night he called me and told me to take him to Dona Maria das Graças’ house.”
“Sorry,” interrupted Solano, “but I’ve got two questions before you go any further: first, is Wilson married. And the second is if he’d been a client of Maria das Graças for a long time.”
“Well, about the first, no, he isn’t married anymore. Used to be. His wife ran off with a German tourist and lives in another country. They don’t have any kids. But Mr. Wilson does have a girlfriend, a lot younger than him, a bitch who treats us like shit.”
“And what about Maria das Graças?” asked Dornelas.
“Mr. Wilson knows that woman from way back. Over the last couple of weeks I’d been taking him there almost every day. I even think Mr. Wilson was hooked on her.”
“He was seeing Maria das Graças even with a girlfriend at home?” asked Dornelas.
“The girlfriend doesn’t live with him. She sleeps there sometimes during the week. But he doesn’t pay her much heed. The only reason she wants to get married is to get her hands on the family money.”
“So why doesn’t he break up with her?” asked Solano.
“When have you ever seen a guy break up with a woman? With a cunt to screw at home and another on the street yet?”
Dornelas didn’t think much of the man’s attitude. But what could he do? Worried they were beginning lose focus, he asked Teodósio to continue his story about the day White Powder Joe’s died.
“Well, that night I left him at Dona Maria das Graças house and went back to the parking lot to leave the car. Mr. Wilson lives in the Historical Center and cars aren’t allowed in there. After leaving the car in the parking lot...”
“What time was that?” interrupted Solano.
“A little after midnight.”
“Go on,” said Dornelas.
“When I left the parking lot I walk
ed to Monkey Island. Mr. Wilson told me a black pick-up would be waiting for me in front of Dona Maria das Graças’ house and that the guys inside would help me take her brother. I found the truck, knocked on the window and a big black guy got out with two others. They asked me if I worked for Wilson and I said I did. Then they knocked on the door and this White Powder Joe guy opens the door. We get him down in no time. And right there, in the middle of the living room, I shoot him up with the whole little bottle, about 10 ml, in the back. He tried real hard to get away. We waited for him to calm down some and stuck him in the back.”
“Would you be able to recognize the three men in the car?”
“No, sir. They wore stockings over their heads. All I saw was their eyes.”
Dornelas, sorry to hear this, turned to Solano.
“Wilson figured that being Maria das Graças’ client and in the room next door, we wouldn’t suspect him. But here he forgot about Nildo’s reputation. If the media found out that the councilman’s brother was at the crime scene, it’d be a disaster. That’s why he never went back.” He turned to Téo. “Go on.”
“After the guy cooled down a bit I told them what Mr. Wilson told me to tell them.”
“Which was?”
“For them to wait for the guy to die for sure before getting rid of the body.”
“Where’d you wait before throwing him in the canal?”
“In a dark alley, a couple of blocks from there.”
“And then?”
“I walked back to the parking lot, got the car and went to pick up Mr. Wilson, who was waiting for me in the street in back.”
Dornelas was silent for a moment, thinking. A tap on the mirror and Solano left the room. Anderson needed a break to change the camera disk. As soon as Solano came back, after Anderson had given him the okay, the inspector turned to the caretaker. “Can you think of any reason why Wilson would want to kill White Powder Joe?”
Téo lowered his head and stood up.
“Mr. Wilson’s involved in drugs, sir. White Powder Joe was always showing up at his house. The last couple of times they argued over money. Mr. Wilson thought White Powder Joe was robbing him, skimming off the top.”
“But if he’s involved in drugs, and with White Powder Joe, why kill exactly the person who’s taking care of the business?” asked Solano.
Dornelas responded immediately:
“Maybe the Doorman offered him a better deal and offered to help get rid of the competition. It’s that simple.” He turned to Teodósio, “want some coffee?”
“Yeah, I do, sir.”
“How about bringing coffee for everybody?” he asked Solano. “See if Anderson wants some too.”
Solano got up, opened the door, went out and closed it behind him. Dornelas was lost in thought while the caretaker, feeling more at ease now, watched him.
“Bad people got to die, sir.”
“But what about Marina Rivera... is she bad people to you?”
“No, not Dona Marina. But she found out about Mr. Wilson’s drug business.”
“Tell me everything.”
“The morning of the day I strangled her she went by Mr. Wilson’s house to talk. They were in the living room and I was hiding behind the door, listening to the conversation. She told Mr. Wilson she’d heard rumors on the island that he, Wilson, was in the drug business with White Powder Joe. And that it was he who’d put out the hit on White Powder Joe. She wanted to put everything out in the open but he denied it. Then Dona Marina asked Mr. Wilson to get out of it, that if the press found out it would screw up his brother’s career. Wilson got really pissed off and told her to get out, kicked the woman out of his house. But before he slammed the door in her face Marina threatened him, told him that if he didn’t stop, if he didn’t quit dealing drugs, that she was going to the cops, going to you, and tell everything.”
In a strange way this news was gratifying to the inspector. From what Teodósio had just told him, Marina was murdered for having discovered Wilson’s involvement with drug trafficking and not for nosing around Peixe Dourado’s books. That meant Dornelas wasn’t responsible for her death. A most unfortunate coincidence, but nevertheless one that brought him tremendous relief.
Solano returned with three hot cups of coffee. He gave one each to the boss and to the caretaker and sat back down in his chair.
“Thanks,” Dornelas said, and turned back to the caretaker. “Did you know I would be going to her house?”
“No, sir. It was just a bad accident.”
“And how did you get in?”
“It was weird. Since she knows me, I figured all I’d have to do was knock on the door and she’d let me in. If it had gone that way I would have killed her right there in the living room. But it didn’t; I knocked on the door and she threw me the keys from an upstairs window. She didn’t even look to see who it was.”
“She was expecting me,” Dornelas finished ruefully, still unable to accept Marina’s fate. “What then?”
“After I went in I heard the noise of the shower running. I went up the stairs, into the bedroom and then into the bathroom and there she was under the shower, rinsing her hair. She didn’t even see me come in. So I strangled the woman right there. When I heard the knock on the door I remembered I hadn’t locked it when I came in. I ran down the stairs and hid in the pantry. That’s what saved me.”
The story matched exactly with what Dornelas assumed had happened.
“And Nildo Borges, why kill him too?”
“Mr. Wilson’s a really complicated man, sir. He never did anything right. His father thought he was a good-for-nothing and only cared about his brother, gave him everything. If it wasn’t for his mother, who’s old but still alive, Wilson would be begging on the street. And to top it off, he’s crazy jealous of his big shot politician brother, famous and powerful.
Dornelas turned to Solano.
“Marina most likely told Nildo about his brother’s involvement with drugs as soon as Wilson refused to get out of the business. Nildo must have threatened him in some way, maybe cutting off the money, I don’t know. Remind me to clear this up with Nildo,” he asked Solano, who nodded.
“And what were you planning on doing after killing Nildo Borges?”
“I was going to escape through the forest and go back to Mr. Wilson’s house.” answered Teodósio with an indifference that irritated Dornelas.
“Did you expect the cops to be at the funeral?” asked the inspector.
“No sir.”
Dornelas felt proud for having trusted his intuition. It turned out to be the decisive move in closing the case within the time limit he’d set for himself.
“One last question: why’d you do it, why’d you kill those people and try to kill Councilman Nildo Borges?”
“Why, for the money of course, sir!”
Dornelas was amazed by the man’s callousness. He felt like slugging him one right then and there. But he was a lawman and he had a job to do.
“Okay, Teodósio,” said the inspector, getting up from his chair, “we’ll keep our part of the bargain regarding the plea agreement, but that doesn’t wipe out of the fact that you committed three serious crimes. You’ll have to pay for them.”
The man looked at him without a word. He seemed calm. Dornelas offered him his hand and Téo shook it.
“Solano is going to take your confession. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, sir.”
Exhausted, Dornelas went to his office and called Amarildo.
He told his boss about Teodósio’s testimony, was congratulated, hung up and sat down. He opened the drawer, unwrapped two chocolate squares and put them in his mouth, letting them slowly melt. He was so tense and angry that he barely tasted them. Now he had to wait for Caparrós and Lotufo to bring in Wilson Borges for questioning, confront him face to face with the caretaker, request a temporary arrest warrant and go through the rest of the bureaucratic requirements until the investigation was taken over by the district attorn
ey.
His part was done, except for the Doorman’s three men.
He felt discouraged when he realized he didn’t have enough men, much less the heavy weapons needed, to go into the slums on Monkey Island after three men who he couldn’t identify. In order to uncover and eliminate the drug syndicate that he, Dornelas, had only just scratched the surface of, and maybe arrest the Doorman, he would need the help of the Military Police, not to mention the Federal Police.
That was the only way to get to the bottom of this crime once and for all.
But was there a political willingness to do it?
From this point on it was up to the boss. Amarildo was the expert in dealing with the exasperatingly slow procedures and frustrating politics that were the rule within the State Secretariat of Public Security. He’d take it up with him later.
In any case, Dornelas, knowing all too well how the wheels of power turned in the Brazilian public sector, was already resigned to the fact that this would be just one more unsolved murder on the Doorman’s résumé.
He picked up his cell from the desk and called Dulce. She answered and he told her everything. He felt relieved.
“I don’t know what time I’ll be getting out of here,” he said. “If it’s not too late we can order a pizza from my house.”
“That sounds good. Call me as soon as you’re done.”
“Okay.”
“Kisses.”
“To you too.”
They hung up.
Dornelas leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Inside he felt the energy and peace of mind that always came when a case was closed. He was pleased that his intuition had led him brilliantly through yet another web of truths and lies. But he also thanked his luck, which had always been with him. He thought of his children. If nothing got in the way, next weekend would be spent entirely with them. He started to call them but decided against it as soon as he reached for the phone. He’d call them when he got home and had more time to talk with no interruptions.
The phone rang. He picked it up right away.