Graveyard Samba (Devil Barnett Detective Series Book 4) by Teddy Hayes

Author:Teddy Hayes [Hayes, Teddy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Teddy Hayes Productions Ltd
Published: 2012-06-22T05:00:00+00:00

When Ilva returned at about 3:00pm. Fats and I were sitting on the patio sofa, drinking in the afternoon breeze and the sounds of a Brazilian singer named Elis Regina. She had a great voice and a troubled personal existence that ended her life in 1982 as a result of a drug overdose. Elza brought us coffee and a type of Brazilian rum called Chachaca, as Ilva talked to Fats about how and why Rosa and Silvio Fonseca thought that I might be helpful in finding their child’s sibling.

“So you think you might be able to find the sibling of Rosa Fonseca’s child by finding the Robin Hood priest?” Fats asked.

“I don’t know, but Ilva seems to think so. I’m sure that’s why she bought me here,” I answered.

“What if I can put you in touch with some people who may be able to help you find out something about the agency that her child came from, without getting you involved with the Robin Hood priest?” he asked.

“That would be a start.”

“Okay, I’ll put in a call to a man I know. Let’s see if he can find out anything,” he said, pulling a small brownish-coloured notebook and starting to write.

“And you say Rosa’s child’s name is José, who came from the Three Sisters Orphanage about six years ago?” Fats said jotting it down in the notebook.

“That’s right,” Ilva confirmed.

“Let’s keep our fingers crossed and you can contact me after 8:00 tonight and I should have something for you,” he said, slipping the notebook back into his pocket. Fats then put on another Brazilian artist. This one was called Djavan.

“Thanks,” I said, and relaxed deeper into the sofa and allowed the beautiful sounds of Brazilian bossa nova to grab a deeper hold on me. I could tell that Fats was a rogue right down to his socks, but I also sensed that he was a man who lived by his word, which was good enough for me.

While one part of me was enjoying the cool sounds of Djavan, another part of me was creeping around in the dark corners of my mind making sure that my demons were still alive and well—just in case my looking into things for the Fonseca’s gave someone the bright idea of placing me within easy reach of death’s hungry shadow.

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