The Colours of Death

by Patricia Marques

  ‘I think those were the only times you used your Gift without being ashamed of it.’

  Isabel takes another chestnut and peels it free, chewing it slowly as she thinks about it. If anyone else had broached the subject, she knows it would’ve got her back up. But with Sebastião she doesn’t need to guard herself. Sebastião has seen her at her lowest; there’s nothing that she needs to hide from him.

  ‘It’s not that I’m ashamed. I know what I am. I just know how everyone else feels about it. Just like every other Gifted person out there.’ She smiles at him. ‘It’s hard to believe that anyone would willingly choose to be like this, knowing what’s in store for them.’

  ‘It might help if you had someone else to support you,’ Sebastião says and she can hear the talk coming.

  ‘I have you to support me.’

  ‘Sorry sis,’ he snorts, ‘I can’t support you that way.’

  ‘Sebastião.’ She glares at him. ‘You did not seriously just say that to me.’

  He snickers and pops a chestnut in his mouth.

  She shakes her head, muttering. ‘You’re disgusting. If only everyone knew.’

  That makes him start laughing.

  ‘Besides, I have a partner now.’

  ‘Yeah, that you don’t even trust,’ he says pointedly, ‘and anyway, that’s not the kind of partner I was hinting at.’ When she gives him the look of death again, he holds his hands up. ‘All right, all right. I’ll stop. How is it really going, though, with the new partner?’

  ‘He’s quiet . . . and efficient. He’s not afraid to go toe to toe with people who carry a certain weight. He doesn’t take bullshit.’ But he’s also got a sketchy past, which she’s still not convinced isn’t deserved.

  ‘Ah, an important quality in anyone having to deal with you on a daily basis.’

  ‘Jesus, you’re so annoying. Don’t understand why I put up with you.’

  ‘You love me.’

  ‘You’re my brother, it’s more of an obligation.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  They finish the rest of the chestnuts in silence.

  ‘Isabel?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  An old lady hobbles into the courtyard square, a blue plastic bag in her hand as she heads to the grass area. She reaches into the bag and starts to throw breadcrumbs onto the grass and the cobbles. Pigeons flock to the food, their wings fluttering, so many of them converging on the woman at once that Isabel wonders how she isn’t panicking under the sudden swarm. A moment later the old lady emerges from the mass of fluttering birds.

  ‘Your Gift. How are you coping?’

  Isabel gives him a tight smile. ‘The headaches got worse. I had to go and see Michael about it. I went before the whole,’ she waves her hand around, ‘dinner fiasco.’

  His expression darkens at the mention of Michael’s name. Isabel thinks that Michael should be grateful that Sebastião chose to be a man of the cloth because otherwise he probably wouldn’t have made it out of that dinner without eating Sebastião’s fist.

  ‘You know he’s the only one who’s fully aware of my situation. He’s the only one that can help me right now.’

  ‘Don’t. I hate that you have to rely on that arsehole. I never liked him.’

  Isabel snorts. ‘Liar. You loved him. You were praying we’d get married and have babies.’ It sobers her when she remembers that her sister will be doing that with Michael now.

  Funny thing is, Isabel doesn’t want that with Michael. Not any more. Even back when they were together, she’d only ever thought about it in passing. Never seriously.

  ‘He’ll never betray me like that,’ she says, ‘don’t worry about it.’

  ‘I don’t trust him, Isabel.’

  ‘I know. But if he outs me, then he goes down with me. Michael loves his career too much to tank it like that. And I don’t want that for him either. Have to be forgiving, right?’

  Sebastião doesn’t look impressed.

  ‘But,’ she sits up, tucks her hair behind her ear, ‘to answer your question, I don’t know what’s going to happen with my Gift. I know it’s changed a lot. It’s stronger,’ she says, voice low as she scrapes her heels over the courtyard’s bumpy surface. She can still hear the sound of the pigeons’ wings as they compete for their morsel of food. ‘I’m scared,’ she admits. ‘But there’s nothing I can do about that. I just have to figure it out. Do the best that I can.’

  Sebastião sighs and then wraps an arm around her and tugs her into a warm hug. ‘Ai, ai maninha,’ he says. ‘We’ll figure it out.’

  She leans her head on his shoulder and nods. ‘Yeah, we will.’

  Thank God for Sebastião.

  The buzzing of her phone in her pocket breaks the moment and Isabel sighs, pulling away and giving Sebastião an apologetic smile.

  ‘Inspector Reis,’ she says.

  ‘Isabel,’ Carla says, ‘HSL. We’ve figured it out. Full phone records came in and he was getting calls from a particular number and when we traced it, we found out that it’s the main number for Hospital de Santa Luz.’

  Isabel sits up. ‘And?’

  ‘It’s in Coimbra. Same city he was on his way to the day he died. The presentation he was giving to the EGU was taking place there, not too far from the hospital. He didn’t have an appointment and wasn’t booked in for any visits, but according to their records he was a regular visitor.’

  Coimbra. Isabel runs her thumb up and down the bridge of her nose, thinking. That morning, Luisa had said that’s where she was headed too. Meeting some friends in Coimbra.

  ‘Who has he been going to see?’ Isabel thinks back to the conversation with Irina dos Santos. If your husband regularly visited a hospital to see someone and had been heading that way on the day of his death, would it not have been something to mention? Why keep that kind of thing from your wife?

  ‘The patient’s name is Mila Ferreira.’

  A woman. Okay. Maybe the wife really didn’t know about this. That name hadn’t shown up in their investigation so far. Who the hell is this person? ‘Do we know what she’s in for?’

  Mila Ferreira, Carla informs her, has been a patient at the hospital for over a year, following an accident at her home. No family visitors to speak of, no friends visiting either. And the oddest point is that despite her being in hospital for that length of time, she isn’t on life support.

  ‘How can that be?’ Isabel asks.

  ‘They don’t know. Her case is confusing everyone. Everything functioning as it should but she’s not waking up.’

  ‘Thanks, Carla. Can we start looking into who she is? I want to know why Gil’s been making regular trips up there and not even his wife seems to know about it.’

  ‘Oh, Isabel?’

  ‘Something else?’

  ‘There was another number there that drew our attention. A couple of weeks ago Gil made a call to Luisa Delgado, a long one.’

  That roots Isabel to the spot and for a moment she’s hyper-aware of the sun on her face. The birds have quietened down.

  ‘I’m on my way back.’

  Isabel hangs up. Sebastião is watching her with a wry smile. ‘Leaving me already?’

  ‘I have a hot date,’ she says and slaps his arm when he snorts. ‘Besides, don’t want some poor soul wandering in for confession and you’re not there.’ She bends down to peck his cheek. ‘Talk soon.’

  ‘All right. And look after yourself please.’

  Isabel waves a hand over her head in acknowledgement as she goes, her mind already on Luisa Delgado and how she is going to explain her way out of this one. Except she clearly won’t talk to them. And there’s that loss of memory going on that seems a little too convenient.

  And it hits her; their way in.

  The boyfriend.

  Chapter 33

  It’s gone 8 p.m. when they reach Gabriel Bernardo’s apartment building. It’s a nice one in an even nicer part of Lisbon. The streets are quiet and the streetlights haven’t been on
for long.

  Isabel finds a parking spot and leans against her car, hands in her pocket as she waits for Voronov to arrive.

  She tilts her head back, eyes pinned on the sky that hasn’t unleashed its threat of rain yet. The day had slowly transitioned, the sun chased out of the sky by wind and clouds while her and Voronov had gone over the new information and tracked down Gabriel Bernardo’s address. Isabel feels restless.

  Luisa had said that her boyfriend also moved in the same circles as Gil and from what they’d seen at the function, it was clear he was on good terms with Julio Soares too. It was he who had gone to fetch Julio, with Luisa in tow that night. But Isabel doesn’t want to get her hopes up too much.

  Isabel hears car doors slamming shut nearby, followed by laughing voices.

  It’s another five minutes before Voronov arrives, sliding into a spot a couple of cars down from her.

  He gets out. He’s changed out of the clothes he was wearing earlier, meaning he’s stopped at home. Isabel feels a little grubby when she sees his wet hair, clean T-shirt and jeans that he’s sporting with a lighter jacket. She arches a brow at him.

  ‘Going somewhere after this?’

  Voronov brushes a hand over his wet hair and shakes his head. ‘No, squeezed in a quick workout before coming here. Haven’t had the time. For all I know we won’t even be going home after this’ – he shrugs – ‘but I wouldn’t mind grabbing a drink afterwards. What about you?’

  Isabel eyes him, considering. ‘Yeah. Sure. If we wrap up here, I wouldn’t mind.’ Although on paper the PJ projects an image of inclusivity and equality, in practice not everyone working there is that tolerant. Isabel doesn’t really have the right temperament to put up with that kind of attitude. Voronov is new and considering they’re still feeling their way around each other, drinks is probably the least intrusive way to figure out if they’ll be able to stand each other in the long run.

  Gabriel Bernardo lives on the fourth floor, apartment 50. They take the elevator up. It’s a higher-end apartment complex. The corridor is well lit, the paint on the walls fresh as the day it was done, the numbers on the doors they pass gleaming under the lights.

  They stop outside number 50. Isabel raps her knuckles on the blue door and stands back with Voronov to wait, letting her gaze wander over the potted plants that line the wall either side of the door.

  It doesn’t take long.

  Isabel has a brief recollection of him at the function. He’d looked a little more put-together then as he’d stood with Luisa under the mood lighting of the event.

  Gabriel has recently turned thirty, according to the information they pulled from the police database. He’s barefoot in a T-shirt and shorts, his wavy brown hair pulled back from his face into a stubby ponytail, and there is a shadow of stubble along his cheeks and jawline. The skin beneath his eyes looks worn and thin and a green sheen has settled in, giving his dark eyes, their colour a green-edged hazel, a sunken look. His mouth is pressed into a flat line as he looks from one of them to the other.

  ‘Mr Bernardo, we’re sorry for the late hour. Thank you for agreeing to see us,’ she says. ‘I’m Inspector Reis, this is Inspector Voronov. May we come in?’

  Gabriel steps back inside and opens the door wider, motioning them in.

  The apartment is a big, open-plan space. The curtains are pulled back to reveal a pretty view of Lisbon. The only lights come from the kitchen side of the room and from the muted TV. There are papers and notes on the coffee table and an open beer bottle next to them.

  ‘It’s not a problem,’ he says, his voice low, eyes downcast as he moves to hover over the sofa. ‘Call me Gabriel. Please, take a seat. Can I offer you anything to drink?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Isabel says, nodding in thanks.

  Voronov declines too.

  They both sit but Gabriel remains standing. His hands don’t stay still, and he shifts from foot to foot. His eyes look bloodshot.

  ‘We just have a couple of questions,’ Isabel says. ‘Is that okay?’

  Voronov takes over the conversation then. Isabel asked him to before they headed out here. She figures they might as well put this partnership to its best use. Voronov taking the lead would leave her free to focus on Gabriel, glean what she can from his responses. His emotions.

  ‘You were present at the function on Thursday with Luisa Delgado, correct?’

  ‘Yes. Most of my colleagues were there that evening helping out.’

  Voronov nods. ‘Does Luisa attend a lot of these functions with you?’

  There’s a spike of emotion, sharp and stinging. Something that isn’t sadness and isn’t sorrow. But the expression on Gabriel’s face remains the same, a mask of upset with a little bit of confusion thrown in now.

  ‘Since we got together, yes, she usually attends these functions with me.’

  ‘Luisa’s car was seen the morning of Gil dos Santos’ death. It was parked in Gare do Oriente station. Luisa tells us you picked her up after what happened at the station and she left her car there. You were pretty fast getting there. Can I ask what you were doing before she called you?’

  There it is. That spike again, the colour of beetroot. It leaves an earthy taste on Isabel’s tongue, and she keeps her eyes on Gabriel’s face.

  ‘I was nearby, Inspector,’ Gabriel says, frowning. He looks from Voronov to Isabel and back again, confusion and defensiveness evident in his stance, the set of his jaw and his scrunched eyebrows. ‘I had a meeting with a visiting professor from London. He’d agreed to answer my questions for my thesis.’

  ‘I see.’ Voronov leans forward, hands clasped together, and continues, tone still calm and a touch apologetic, put upon. Isabel can’t feel anything even close to pity or understanding coming through him towards Gabriel. There’s a solid wall of concentration. ‘Gabriel, it’d be really helpful if you could provide us with the name of the professor you were meeting that morning. This is so we can make sure that everything is in order.’

  ‘That’s not a problem,’ Gabriel says. ‘I know why you’re here, but I don’t know what I can contribute.’

  ‘You’re doing fine, Gabriel,’ Voronov says. ‘How long have you and Luisa been together?’

  ‘Just over a year, our anniversary is in January.’

  ‘And you said she normally attends these functions with you. To your knowledge has Luisa ever spoken to Gil dos Santos? A conversation here or there, anything like that?’

  Gabriel frowns. ‘I can’t say for sure. Everyone networks heavily at these things and Luisa isn’t the kind of person to just stand on the sidelines. I’m sure there were occasions where they spoke to each other, but mostly Luisa tends to stay with me. Why are you asking me about her?’

  Isabel cuts in. ‘We’re following up on some statements, Gabriel. This is us trying to get a better understanding of those present on the day of Gil’s death. I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘We understand Luisa seems to suffer from some lapses in memory,’ Isabel says.

  The look he cuts her way is assessing and his shoulders square up, as if he’s getting ready to do battle. ‘She’s seeing someone for that.’ And then he doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

  ‘Hmm. Do you have any idea why Gil dos Santos would be calling your girlfriend?’

  ‘What?’

  Isabel doesn’t reply, lets the question sit and is pleased when Voronov doesn’t rush to fill the silence either. It doesn’t take long, a few seconds maybe, but to Gabriel it must feel longer. He shifts on the spot, looking from one of them to the other.

  ‘He called her? Did she say that?’ he finally asks.

  ‘No. But we’ve seen his phone records.’

  ‘You seem to be quite familiar with Julio Soares too. Did you also know Gil dos Santos well?’

  ‘No,’ Gabriel says, ‘as I said, you network a lot at these functions, but I knew Gil more through Professor Soares. They worked together a lot and sometimes we’d cr
oss paths and make small talk but nothing beyond that. He was a nice man. I met his wife a couple of times too. As far as I could tell they were both very nice people.’

  ‘And what do you do?’

  ‘I work for a pharmaceutical company. I help develop new treatments. I’m also currently doing my PhD at Professor Soares’ university. They have an amazing reputation for their work in the Gifted field.’ He looks at Isabel. ‘You’re Gifted aren’t you?’ he asks. ‘I saw your classification on your ID.’

  ‘Yes. Does it make you uncomfortable?’

  Gabriel shakes his head. ‘No. Can I ask what your Gift falls into?’

  Isabel watches closely for his reaction. ‘I’m on the telepathy spectrum.’

  Something shifts in his gaze. ‘I heard they suspect that the incident on the train was as the result of a Gifted. Is it true?’

  ‘That’s something we can’t comment on at this stage in the investigation,’ Voronov says.

  ‘I can understand that. What can you do, if you don’t mind my asking?’ Gabriel asks her. ‘They say higher-level Gifted telepaths can hear people’s thoughts without skin-to-skin contact.’

  ‘As someone working in the Gifted field, I’m sure you can appreciate that it’s not that simple. You said you’ve worked with Julio Soares. How would you say he’s been since Gil’s death?’

  ‘The professor? He’s diligent,’ Gabriel says and chews on his lower lip as he thinks about it, ‘he hasn’t missed any classes, I don’t think. There really hasn’t been an opportunity for me to speak to him properly but when I visited the university a couple of days ago, he seemed tired, a little less put-together than usual. But given the circumstances, I’d say that’s normal. He was close with Gil.’

  They ask him about Célia too but it’s the same as his relationship with Gil. Casual acquaintances, enough for a conversation but nothing beyond that. Isabel asks him if Julio Soares has ever discussed anything with him regarding his projects with NTI or his working relationship with either Célia or Julio.