"I have no idea."
"Meaning that you really don't know, or that you won't tell me?
"I really don't know."
"Tell me more."
"Not now. It's a long story."
She put the glass back on the table.
"What do I get out of it?"
"A story, of course."
"What's this kid's name?"
"Edson Souza. He's a street kid."
"How did you-"
"I can't tell you anything else. Not yet."
"But you will?"
"Yes."
"And to me, exclusively."
"Yes."
She picked up her beer. This time, she drank off half the glass and left a mustache of foam on her upper lip. She took a paper handkerchief out of her purse and used it like a napkin.
"You've got a deal," she said.
"I told you she was hot," Arnaldo said after he closed the door behind her.
Silva grunted.
Arnaldo pretended not to notice.
"Why didn't you tell her the rest of it, chefe? About Ferraz and all?"
"First of all," Silva said, "because I can't prove it. Second, because she'd start digging, and if Ferraz thinks she's digging, he'll kill her just like he killed Diana."
Arnaldo thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "You want another beer?" he asked.
Silva shook his head.
"You, Hector?"
Hector nodded. Arnaldo went to the refrigerator, fetched two cans, and handed one to Hector. "You made up your mind, then? You're sure Ferraz killed Diana?"
Silva nodded.
Hector took a long draught, wiped his mouth and said, "So how do we nab him?"
"We start by finding that kid," Silva said.
"You think Ferraz had anything to do with what happened to the bishop?" Hector asked.
"Do you?"
Hector thought about it. "No," he said at last. "How about the murder of Muniz's kid? You believe Pillar when he says he didn't have anything to do with that?"
"Actually, I do," Silva said. "He's been doing his thing for years without killing anyone. Why should he start now?"
"Maybe because nobody ever nailed one of his people to a tree."
"Maybe. But they've done things just as bad. Don't forget, they've killed more than fifteen hundred of his compadres."
"But if it wasn't the league…"
"I didn't say it wasn't the league. I said I didn't think it was Pillar."
"Oh. So maybe that local guy, Pereira, and a few of his friends?"
"That would be my guess."
Hector tossed his empty beer can into the wastebasket. "So that gives us suspects for Diana and Muniz, but we're still no closer to the guy who killed the bishop."
"No, we're not."
"You think old man Muniz will try to kill Pillar?"
"He might, if he finds him, but Pillar's a wily old fox. My guess is that he'll make himself scarce."
"How about those people on Muniz's property?"
"That worries me more. There are women and kids there."
"So what's our next step?"
Silva looked at his watch.
"Too late for tonight, but first thing in the morning we're going to have a chat with that priest, Father Gaspar. I want to know what that telephone call from the bishop was all about."
Chapter Thirty-one
Euclides, Gaspar's manservant, was aswelcom- ing as he'd been during Hector's previous visit.
"You again," he said, "Who's he?"
"I'm a chief inspector in the Federal Police," Silva answered for himself. "Who the hell are you?"
"We don't hold with profanity around here."
"And I don't hold with being kept waiting. Open the goddamned door."
For a moment, Euclides looked like he was going to slam it in Silva's face, but he didn't.
"I asked you who you are," Silva said, stepping over the threshold.
"Euclides Garcia. I work for Father Gaspar."
"Show me some ID."
"I haven't got any."
"You're required to have a national identity card."
"I mean I don't have it on me. I live here," Euclides said, defensively.
"Tell your boss we're waiting for him. Then go get it."
"Told you," Hector said, when Euclides had scurried off.
"Cheeky son of a bitch," Silva said. "What's that smell?"
"Lilac cologne," Hector said. "The good father drenches himself in the stuff."
Father Gaspar leaned over his desk to offer Hector a moist hand.
"Nice to see you again, Delegado."
He looked curiously at Silva.
Hector performed the introductions. The priest pronounced himself equally pleased to meet Silva and indicated the two cane chairs.
"Coffee?" he asked, resuming his seat.
"Thank you, no."
Hector had warned his uncle about Father Gaspar's coffee.
Before they had a chance to initiate the questioning, Euclides returned with his identity card. He held it out to Silva, who passed it to Hector. Hector examined it, made a note of the number, and handed it back.
"Is there anything wrong?" Gaspar asked, puzzled.
"No," Silva said, deliberately addressing the master and ignoring the man. "He reminded me of someone, that's all. Apparently, I was mistaken."
"And to what do I owe the pleasure this time?" the priest asked when his servant had gone.
"That reward Muniz is offering," Silva said. "The hundred thousand reais?"
"Yes?"
"I'm told you've agreed to act as intermediary.
"Yes, Chief Inspector, that's right."
"Not a good idea."
The priest frowned. "Why not?"
"It's far too much money, Father. It's going to encourage people to lie. We want answers, too, but they have to be the right answers."
Gaspar started shaking his head.
Silva ignored it. "Muniz doesn't want justice, Padre, he wants revenge. He doesn't want the people who killed his son arrested. He wants them dead."
"Are you implying that he'd take the law into his own hands?"
"I am."
"Nonsense," Father Gaspar said.
"What makes you so certain?"
"Because we spoke about it. I enjoined him to put aside his bitterness. He assured me that he would. Orlando Muniz isn't after vengeance, only after justice. `Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.' That's Romans, chapter twelve."
Silva was not in the mood for another scripture lesson. "Justice, hell. The man wants blood."
Father Gaspar held up his hand, signifying that he didn't buy into Silva's theory. "I pride myself on being a good judge of men," he said. "I'd be the first to admit that there've been rumors about him, but I'm convinced they're calumnies. Personally, I consider Orlando Muniz an exemplary Christian. He was a major contributor to the new church."
"That doesn't-"
Father Gaspar didn't let Silva finish. "And now, Senhor Muniz is offering the church ten thousand reais. All I have to do in return is perform a simple service. I'd be derelict in my duty if I didn't accede to his request."
"Listen to me, Father-"
"No, Chief Inspector, you listen to me. I have another reason to take issue with what you say. It obviously hasn't occurred to you that anyone bearing false witness would be violating the ninth commandment. That's a mortal sin. A perjurer puts his very soul in peril."
"Father-"
"I see we're unlikely to agree. Why don't we just drop the subject?"
"You're wrong."
"And you, of course, are entitled to your opinion."
Silence fell. Silva broke it first. "There's another matter: Have you heard of a young man, a street kid, named Edson Souza?"
"Edson Souza? No. Why?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. But I can tell you this: He placed a call to Dom Felipe. Immediately after they'd spoken, Dom Felipe placed a call to you."
"When was this?"
Silva looked at his nephew. Hector took out his notebook and read off the date and time.
Father Gaspar wrinkled his brow, checked his desk calendar and shook his head.