Pursuit by Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza

Author:Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza [Garcia-Roza, Luiz Alfredo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4668-5034-7
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.
Published: 2003-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

STORY NUMBER THREE

The doorbell rang insistently, but nobody responded. He soon realized that it wasn’t the doorbell but the phone, his phone. He turned on the bedside lamp and groped for the apparatus, which was on the floor, at the foot of the bed.

“Espinosa.”

“Officer, I’m so sorry about the time. It’s Letícia Nesse.”

Espinosa sat on the bed and looked at the clock. One-twenty. He was already entirely awake.

“What happened, Letícia?”

“My mother … she’s vanished.”

“How do you mean?”

“She got a call right before ten tonight, grabbed a coat, and went down without saying anything. She still hasn’t come back. She never does that, leaving me alone at night. Something happened.”

“I’m on my way over.”

Espinosa called the station with a description of Teresa and asked them to search the area around the Rua Dias da Rocha. He left his cell-phone number in case anything turned up. Twenty minutes later, Letícia opened the door of the apartment. She was wearing sweatpants, and there was a coat on the back of the chair. On top of the table, there was a telephone and a little notebook with a list of phone numbers—probably the same notebook where her mother had kept Espinosa’s card.

“Do you know who called?”

“No. I was in my room. It was quick, less than a minute. From the way she ran around before she left, I know she was upset.”

“Do you know if it had anything to do with your sister?”

“No, she would have said something.”

“Did she go out with a sweater or a shawl?”

“She got her coat.”

“A purse? A wallet?”

“I don’t think so. Her purse is on the bed.”

Letícia seemed to be in control of herself. She answered the chief’s questions objectively and asked him not to call her father or anyone else to keep her company; she could wait by herself perfectly well.

The phone rang inside Espinosa’s pocket. He answered, murmured a few words, and hung up.

“I’m going down to talk with the officer in the patrol car outside. Don’t leave here. Here’s my cell-phone number in case you need me. I’ll be right back.”

His colleague’s message hadn’t been very clear or very positive, and Espinosa didn’t want to ask for clarification while Letícia was sitting there. The policeman was waiting for him downstairs.

“Good evening, Chief. I think we found the woman you were looking for, and the description matches. She’s sitting on the bench in the square, right over there. She’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“That’s what the lieutenant said; I haven’t checked it out personally.”

“Where?”

“There, by the newspaper kiosk—you can see it from here. The lieutenant is with the body.”

The Rua Dias da Rocha, at the point it intersects the Avenida Copacabana, forms a little square, ornamented by several wooden benches, a kiosk, and a public phone. The lieutenant, a young kid, was sitting on the bench, as if keeping a sleepy Teresa company. He had met the chief on the many occasions when he’d been in the station registering crimes. As soon as he saw Espinosa, he got up and snapped to attention.

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