Brazilian Sleigh Ride by Robert L. Fish

Author:Robert L. Fish
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504007207
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media

TEN

Da Silva opened the door of the suite and stepped aside, waving Al Cormier in.

“Let me have your coat.” He took Cormier’s lined Burberry and dropped it on a chair and then walked over to the bar in the corner of the room. “How about a drink?”

Cormier looked about the room and grinned. “All the comforts of home, eh?”

“All except warm weather. What would you like?”

“A shot and a beer, if you have them.” The red-haired man looked a bit truculent, as if his choice of drink might be sneered at. “I happen to like it,” he added simply.

“You could like worse,” Da Silva said with a grin, and bent over the miniature refrigerator beneath the bar. He uncapped the beer and then poured a generous slug of whiskey into a whiskey sour glass, dug out a crystal beer stein, and pushed everything across the polished mahogany bar. “You could like pinga, for instance. Like Wilson.”

“Whatever that is,” Cormier said, and poured his beer into the stein.

“That’s Brazil’s answer to Sterno. It’s the first distillation of raw sugar alcohol, and its smell alone is enough to scare off everybody but about fifty million Brazilians. And Wilson.” Da Silva poured himself a brandy, raised his glass, and sipped. “I’ll take cognac.”

Cormier propped one of his size twelve shoes on the bottom rung of the adjacent stool and looked about the room appreciatively. “This is really some fancy layout. Speaking of Wilson, where is he?”

“He ought to be wandering in any minute. He had some chores to do.”

Cormier nodded, drank his shot, and followed it with a sip of beer. “That’s better. That should keep the cold out. By the way, how are you fellows doing?”

Da Silva grinned. “I don’t know about Wilson, but I’m doing fine. I’ve got a date for dinner with a beautiful and very well built girl.”

Cormier studied him. “And that’s going to solve the problem?”

“It’ll solve mine,” Da Silva said, and then looked up. A key was being inserted in the door. Wilson came in, nodded to the two men, and shed his overcoat. He walked over to the bar and studied the array of glasses there.

“Hi. You can pour me a brandy while you’re standing there.”

Da Silva reached for a glass and a bottle. “Al was just asking how you were doing.”

“I’ll do better once I get that drink,” Wilson said, and shook his head. “God, but it’s cold. And that shipping office had to be all the way downtown, and a wind off the Battery that could kill you. I’ll be happy when we get back to Brazil.”

Da Silva paused in his bartending duties. “When will that be?”

Wilson looked at him evenly. “It won’t be before I get that drink—or before you have your date, if that’s what’s worrying you.” He picked up the glass Da Silva had filled and stared into its contents, frowning.

“So Jimmy had been to Recife,” Da Silva said.

Wilson nodded, and downed his drink in one gulp. “Yes.” His eyes came up.

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