Bossa Novas, Bikinis, and Bad Ends Page 11

  We ordered all three lunches so we could trade and sample each one of them.

  “Are you dancing tonight?” Natalia asked.

  “I think so,” Tina said. “Miguel was so pleased with us last night, he asked if we would add an extra performance tonight. He’ll pay us more. Want to, guys?” she asked us.

  “What Latin delight are we dancing?” Gini asked.

  “How about the mambo?” Tina said. “It’s really fun and we can grab men out of the audience again and dance with them again. I loved doing that last night.”

  “No one has ever done that before,” Natalia said. “And everyone loved it. I’m glad you’re going to do it again. I’ll give you a choice of songs later.”

  The food arrived, and we passed the dishes around to taste everything.

  It was all delicious. We got too caught up in munching to talk much. But then Gini brought us back to the present.

  “You know,” she said, “we go sightseeing and flea market shopping and eating great food as if two people hadn’t been murdered back at the famous hotel we’re staying in. What’s the matter with us?”

  “Oh, Gini, leave it alone, at least until we finish our lunch,” Janice said. “We didn’t kill them and we don’t know who did kill them—or at least we don’t know for sure.”

  “What do you mean,’for sure’?” Gini said. “It could have been anybody. Who do you think did it?”

  “Well, obviously Lucas killed Maria so he wouldn’t have to pay her alimony anymore,” Janice said.

  “But why would he kill Sumiko?” Gini asked. “She didn’t do anything to him.”

  “Well, I haven’t figured that part out yet,” Janice said. “And I don’t understand something Gabriel said. . . .” She stopped and looked at me. “Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything about that until I talked to the police chief.”

  “Gabriel? You mean the doctor?” Gini said, almost choking on her sausage. “What did he say?”

  Janice looked totally bummed out. “It’s probably not important, Gini. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You can’t just bring up something like that and then not finish your sentence!” Gini said. She never just lets anything drop, as you’ve probably noticed.

  “Pat . . .” Janice said, looking frantically to me for help.

  I jumped in. “It was just some reference to Sumiko and the finances of the hotel, but he didn’t actually say much. I told Janice she should tell the police chief about it because it might be useful information.”

  “Just exactly what did he say about Sumiko and the finances of the hotel?” Gini insisted. “Come on, Jan.”

  “Well, I asked him about Sumiko—I knew he was going out with her—and I asked him why he thought somebody killed her. He said he thought she found out something about the financial situation of the hotel that she wasn’t supposed to know. Then he changed the subject and didn’t say anything more.”

  “There’s definitely something fishy about the money at the Copacabana,” I said. “I meant to tell you guys. Last night after we danced, Lucas came over to me and asked me if I knew anything about money problems in this hotel. He said he asked Yasmin to rehire him as bartender in the hotel. She said he would have to ask Ortega. When he did, Ortega said he couldn’t afford to rehire him because the hotel wasn’t doing very well. That sounded really weird to me. Since this is such an expensive hotel, I assumed they made tons of money.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Natalia said. “They do make tons of money in this hotel! Lucas just makes all that stuff up to cause trouble. He’s always been a troublemaker. Miguel said that he couldn’t afford to rehire Lucas because he hates him. Believe me, this hotel has no money problems.”

  She stopped and took her phone out of her purse. “Excuse me a minute, ladies. Someone’s calling me.”

  She listened, and her whole expression changed. “It can’t be,” she said. “I don’t believe it. Yes, of course, Senhor Pereira, we’ll return to the hotel at once.”

  “What is it, Natalia?” Tina said.

  “You won’t believe this,” Natalia said, motioning to the waiter for the check. “There’s been another murder.”

  “Who?” Gini said, putting down her fork and wiping her mouth. “Who is it this time?”

  “Gabriel. Dr. Souza,” Natalia said, her face pale. “They just found him.”

  “My God,” Janice said. “How can that be? I thought he was . . .”

  “The murderer?” Natalia said. “I told you he could never kill anybody. I’ve known him forever. He saves lives—not takes them. Come on, Hoofers, we’ve got to get back to the hotel.”

  We left the remains of our delicious lunch on the table and went out to the van where Ramon was waiting for us, his face serious.

  “Back to the hotel, Ramon. There’s been another murder,” Natalia said.

  “Oh, no, senhora,” he said. “That cannot be.”

  We got in the car and drove back to the Copacabana, where, once again, Chief Pereira was waiting for us. Ortega and Yasmin were standing with him.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you that a third person in this hotel has been killed,” he said. “Dr. Souza. He was found floating facedown in the pool this afternoon by one of the hotel maids. We got him to the hospital immediately, but it was too late. We still don’t know what killed him. If any of you has anything to tell me, please do so immediately.”

  Janice looked at me, and I said, “I don’t know how significant it is, sir, but Senhora Rogers and I have something that might be of interest.”

  “Please, senhora—”

  I told him about Janice’s conversation with the doctor the night before, and he made some notes on his iPad.

  “Thank you for this information, senhora. This is very helpful. Please be available for more questions later.”

  He motioned to Yasmin, Ortega, and Natalia to follow him into Yasmin’s office. We stood there stunned, unsure of what to do next.

  “I need a drink,” Gini said.

  “Me too,” Tina said. “Let’s go in the Piano Bar and order a cosmo. I want something American.”

  We went into the bar, where the pianist was playing some Gershwin songs that were just right for our mood—especially when he played, “Someone to Watch Over Me.” My friends ordered cosmos and I asked for a coconut water and lime drink, which I was actually beginning to like. We looked at each other in disbelief.

  “I’m beginning to think we’re a curse,” Janice said. “Everywhere we go, people die by the carload. Maybe we should just stay home before we kill off the entire population of the world.”

  “Well, it won’t be long before the entire population of this hotel will be gone,” Gini said. “I don’t get it. Who could be doing this? Maria, Sumiko, Dr. Souza. Who would want to kill all three of these people?”

  “They don’t really have anything in common,” I said. “Maybe, just maybe, Lucas killed Maria so he wouldn’t have to pay her alimony anymore, but he had no reason to kill Sumiko and Souza. And Ortega? He might have wanted his wife dead so he could fool around more, but why would he kill Souza? Who else is there?”

  “There’s Yasmin and Natalia,” Gini said, “but why would they bump off Maria, Sumiko, and Souza? It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “I still think it has something to do with money,” I said. “There’s some reason this hotel isn’t making a serious profit. If we can find that out, we’ll have our murderer.”

  “Not necessarily,” Yasmin said, coming out of her conference with the chief and appearing at our table. She always seemed to pop up when we were least expecting her. “Inflation affects every business these days. The hotel merely spends more than it takes in. It’s that simple. I’m the one who sees where the money goes, after all.”

  I still had my doubts, but I dropped the subject and invited Yasmin to join us.

  “I’d love to,” she said, “but I’m meeting an old friend. I’ll see you later.” She started to leave an
d then turned back and knelt at my side. I was sitting a little apart from the others, and she spoke to me in a low voice so my friends wouldn’t hear.

  “Pat, how would you like to come with me to an authentic baile funk in the favelas near here later this evening?”

  “What’s a baile funk?” I asked her.

  “It’s a huge street party in the heart of Rio’s slums. They call them favelas. They’re on a hillside near here. We just walk up there, and friends of mine will let us in. There’s nothing like it. Wild music, great dancing, some pot, if you’re in the mood, since you don’t drink. You’ll love it.”

  “What about my friends?” I asked. “Can they come too?”

  “I’m only allowed to bring one person,” she said. “See, it’s mostly black people. They’re the ones who live there, but I know someone who lets me in. I wanted to take you to one of these since we danced together.” She put her cheek against mine and whispered in my ear, “I just want to be alone with you.”

  I knew I should say no, but I couldn’t resist. It was too exciting a prospect to turn down. Even cautious old me couldn’t refuse this chance at something different, probably illegal, definitely unlike anything I would find at home in New Jersey. I don’t mean to make New Jersey sound boring. I love living there. But it sure ain’t Rio!

  “What time?” I asked.

  “I’ll pick you up about eleven,” she said.

  “You’re on,” I said.

  She left and Gini, who never misses anything interesting that’s going on, said, “So, what’s happening with you and Yasmin?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I said. “She thought I might like to go to something called a baile funk with her after we dance tonight.”

  “Sounds intriguing. What’s a baile funk?”

  “Some kind of wild dance party in the favelas,” I said.

  “Ooh, can I come too?” she asked.

  “I asked her if I could bring our whole gang, but she said no. She said she was restricted in the number of outsiders she could bring. They don’t trust anybody up there.” I looked at the rest of my fellow Hoofers. “Sorry, guys.”

  “I understand,” Gini said. “Sounds intriguing. I’ll wait up for you.”

  “I might be really late,” I said, trying to discourage her. “I don’t want you sitting here worrying about me until three in the morning.” But Gini isn’t easily discouraged.

  “Like I said, I’ll wait up,” she said.

  Miguel Ortega came into the bar after his session with the police chief. He looked distracted. He didn’t seem to notice us until Tina spoke to him.

  “Miguel,” Tina said, “do you still want us to dance tonight? I wasn’t sure. I mean, with the doctor’s death and all. We’ll do whatever you want.”

  He didn’t answer her at first. His mind was miles away and he couldn’t seem to concentrate on what she was saying.

  “Miguel?” Tina said again.

  “Oh, forgive me, Senhora Powell,” he said. “What did you say?”

  Tina repeated her question.

  “If you can dance with all this going on,” he said, “I would be most grateful.”

  “Of course,” Tina said. “We’ll do a carioca and invite the men in the audience to dance with us. That seemed to work last night.”

  “People were still talking about it today,” Ortega said. “Please do it again tonight. Perhaps you will permit me to dance with you?” He bowed and kissed her hand. He seemed to have recovered his host persona once more.

  “It would be a great pleasure, Senhor Ortega,” Tina said as he left the room.

  “Looks like you have a secret admirer, Tina,” I said.

  “Not really, Pat,” she said. “That’s his manager-of-the-hotel personality. Nothing to do with me.”

  Natalia came out of the office and joined us.

  “What do you think, Natalia,” Tina said. “Can you sing that carioca song tonight?”

  “Been doing it all my life,” she said with a wink and a shimmy.

  “What did the police chief ask you?” Gini said.

  Natalia’s face was suddenly serious. No more fooling around. “I don’t want to talk about it, Gini. He thinks because I went out with Gabriel that I knew who killed him. I haven’t a clue, but don’t ask me about it anymore, OK?”

  Gini got it. She reached out and touched Natalia’s arm. “Sorry, hon. No more questions.”

  “Natalia,” Janice said, “I don’t really want a big hotel meal tonight before we dance. Is there somewhere I can go and just get a quick bite?”

  “Of course,” she said. “There are a million what they call botequins around here. They have mostly appetizers and stuff to drink. I’ll take you to my favorite one, if you want.”

  “Sounds like exactly what I want,” Janice said. “Anybody else?”

  Tina, Mary Louise, and Gini said they would come along to the botequin, but I didn’t need anything to eat. I just wanted to rest, dance, and then party at the baile funk. The thought of food made me feel a little sick.

  I wandered into the lobby to find my little cat, Teodora, but she wasn’t curled up in her regular spot in the luggage room. I asked the bellman where she was and he said he hadn’t seen her since the night before. I decided to go back up to my room and veg out, but just as I pushed the elevator button, Miguel Ortega called to me, “Senhora Keeler,” he said. “Want to see something wonderful?”

  “Oh, yes, senhor,” I said. “I’m definitely in the mood for something wonderful.”

  “Come with me,” he said, and led me into his office. There in the corner was Teodora in a basket with five little kittens playing around her. She looked totally content. One of the kittens, a little yellow tiger, was playing with Teodora’s tail, while two gray tabbies stalked each other around the edges of the basket. The other two kittens were of the Heinz 57 variety, seeming to combine every color a cat could possibly have. They were snoozing and snuggling next to Teodora.

  “Oh, how precious,” I said. “Where did you find them?”

  “I didn’t,” he said. “Early this morning, when I stepped off the elevator, I saw Teodora leading a parade of kittens through the lobby. I unlocked my office and she marched right in. I gave them a basket from the florist shop, and they seem quite happy here now.”

  “What lucky kitties,” I said, giving Teodora a scratch on her ears. “You’re a good mom cat, aren’t you, sweetie?”

  “You really love cats, senhora,” Ortega said.

  “I do,” I said. “And Teodora looks just like my Eliza. Her kittens are beautiful.”

  “Do you want one of them?” he asked me.

  “Oh, I’d love one,” I said. “But they’re too little to take with me now. I’m sure you can find a good home for them when they’re older. “

  This man, who had seemed so formal and unapproachable, was now my friend. First name and all. Kittens will do that.

  I bent to pat Teodora on the head.

  “Your children are beautiful,” I said to her, and she gave a soft little purr. I stood up and shook Miguel’s hand.

  “Thank you for showing me these babies. Ate logo,” I said, pronouncing it “atay logu,” hoping I had pronounced the Portuguese words for “see you later” correctly.

  “Ate logo,” he said.

  Back in the room, I fell asleep until Gini came clattering back in and shook me gently.

  “Wake up, Pat,” she said. “We’re on in thirty-five minutes.”

  “What are we wearing?” I asked.

  “The red and white striped pants and tops and the red shoes.”

  “I love wearing red and white,” I said. “I always feel more zing when I wear it.”

  “Well, zing yourself into the shower and hurry up.”

  I sat up, stretched, and went into our luxurious bathroom to get ready.

  In thirty minutes flat we were both red and white striped from head to toe. I felt as if I could dance all night. I started toward the door, but Gini held me back.


  “Listen, kiddo,” she said. “You know those favela places aren’t the safest in the world, don’t you?”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said. “But I’ll be with Yasmin, and she has friends there. I’ll be safe as long as I’m with her. Don’t worry.”

  “Well, if you’re not back by morning, I’m sending the police after you,” she said. We both thought she was kidding.

  Pat’s Tip for Traveling with Friends: If she’s

  a person who loves nature and you love

  museums, you might want to take that trip

  with someone else.

  Chapter Twelve

  May I Have This Dance?

  When we appeared on the dance floor, all the guests stood up and applauded. They kept standing when we started to carioca, moving in place, obviously eager to be up there on the floor with us. When we were really into the swing of the music, moving and twirling, we moved out into the audience and chose men to dance with. My guy was American. He was a little overweight, especially around the middle, and his shirt kept coming out of his pants. He wasn’t that great a dancer, but his heart was in the right place and he had a nice smile, so I guided him into the carioca rhythm and led him instead of his leading me.

  “This sure is a great place,” he said. “I’ve never been part of a show before.”

  “Where are you from?” I asked.

  “New Jersey,” he said. “Ever been there?”

  I laughed. “Occasionally,” I said. “I’m from Champlain.”

  “No kidding?” he said. “I’m from Summit. Probably seen you at King’s.” He was referring to our local supermarket.

  “I’m sure of it,” I said. “How do you like Rio?”

  “I liked it until somebody stole my wallet last night. I’m not so crazy about it now. Caused me a lot of trouble. My wife wants to go home now. She’s scared, and I can understand why, but I persuaded her to stay a little longer. Is there anything we should see that we haven’t? We’ve been to Corcovado and Sugar Loaf.”

  I told him about the flea market. “She can find anything she wants there,” I said. “Designer stuff at great prices. I don’t even like to shop but I found a great scarf.”