Bossa Novas, Bikinis, and Bad Ends Page 17

“Yasmin’s mother, the same mother who saved me before with her illness, was Yasmin’s escape this time. She had a heart attack and the police let Yasmin go to the emergency room with her mother. They left her alone for a short time and she got away. Chief Pereira thinks she probably will go to the favelas where her friends will hide her. The same favelas where she almost killed me. It’s a good thing we’re leaving tomorrow or she might manage to succeed this time.”

  Tina put her arm around me. “You’re safe now, hon. She’ll never get to you again. There are police all over the hotel. We’re with you all the time.”

  I knew I’d never feel safe until I was back in New Jersey and Yasmin was locked up in some jail for a long, long time.

  The waiter brought my caipirinha. I could feel my friends’ eyes on me. I knew they were afraid I would start drinking again. They all loved me a lot. I took a sip of the caipirinha and it didn’t do a thing for me. I thought I would get that same lift, that same relaxation I always got before when I reached for a drink. But now, nothing. I motioned to the waiter and asked for a ginger ale instead. He took the caipirinha back.

  I could see the smiles on the faces of all my drinking friends. They were happy for me. They’re always glad when something good happens to me. As I am for them.

  “I still don’t know how you got through all that,” Gini said.

  “I don’t either, Gini,” I said. “I just kept praying for help.”

  “Sometimes I think God needs a hearing aid,” Gini said. “How come He didn’t hear you when Yasmin kidnapped you, then Natalia, then Ramon?”

  I laughed. Gini always makes me laugh. She could make me laugh if the two of us were stranded on some desert island with only bananas to eat.

  “He must have been busy,” I said. “But look, I’m here. What time is it anyway?” I had lost all track of time.

  “It’s four-thirty,” Tina said. “Do you want to sleep?”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I slept all night in that cell before Ramon liberated me. I’m slept out. I’m afraid if I go to sleep again I’ll wake up with someone pointing a gun at me or in the backseat of a car driven by the friend of a killer. I’m never going to sleep again. I need a shower though. Gini would you mind keeping watch outside the shower door?”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight until Yasmin and Natalia are in jail for the rest of their lives,” she said.

  “There will be a police officer outside the door of your suite,” Pereira said. “He will be with you everywhere you go.”

  “Not in the shower, I hope,” I said.

  He smiled. “Everywhere but there,” he said. “I have policemen all over the hotel,” he said. “I promise you you’re safe.”

  Because I never really believe everything is all right, I still couldn’t relax, no matter how much Pereira tried to reassure me.

  Then I heard a sweet little meow.

  Mary Louise was holding my kitten. She handed him over to me. All of a sudden, everything was fine. This baby licked my hand and nestled close to me, purring. I wanted to find a name for this perfect little creature even though I couldn’t take him back home with me. There was always a chance I could come back for him when he was older.

  “What shall I call him?” I asked my friends. It was good to have something else to think about besides my recent horrible experiences.

  “How about ‘Janeiro’?” Gini said.

  “That’s not quite right,” I said. “Think of something else.”

  “Why don’t you call your cat ‘Gato Doce’?” Miguel said. “It means ‘sweet cat’ in Portuguese. Or you could call him ‘Namorado,’ which means ‘boyfriend.’”

  “You’re getting closer,” I said. “But I need something else. I love his little white collar. I want something like that, but not ‘white collar.’ ”

  “How about naming him after some priest, then?” Gini said. “They wear white collars.”

  I just looked at her. “The day I name my cat after a priest, you can send me off to a nunnery,” I said. “Think of something totally nonreligious. Something that will remind me he came to me at a time when I needed something warm and loving.”

  “I’ve got it,” Tina said. “Call him Rio. That’s where he’s from, after all.”

  “That’s it!” I said. “Rio is perfect. Thank you, my talented editor friend.” I kissed my little cat on the top of his head and said, “Olá, Rio.” He purred.

  “Come on, Pat. Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll have one last incredible dinner in Rio,” Tina said.

  “Anything where I’m surrounded by all of you,” I said. “Oh, and a few hundred policemen.”

  The hot shower felt heavenly. I just stood there and let the water wash over me, cleaning and soothing and warming me. I wanted to stay in there forever. After about fifteen minutes I turned off the shower and wrapped myself in one of the hotel’s thick, luxurious towels. I came into the main part of the suite, where Gini was all dressed and ready for dinner.

  “Go ahead,” I said to her. “I’ll be down in a minute. Nothing can happen to me now. There’s an officer just outside the door. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Gini said. “I don’t want to leave you if you have any qualms at all about being left alone here.”

  “I’m fine, Gini, thanks.”

  She left, and I pulled out a long white dress with a deep V-neck I had been saving to wear on our last night at the Copacabana. That with a turquoise necklace and earrings would make me feel beautiful.

  There was a knock on the door and the police officer stuck his head in.

  “Excuse me, senhora. The maid is here to put fresh towels in the bathroom. Is it all right to let her in?”

  “Certainly, Officer,” I said. “I’m about to go downstairs anyway.”

  The policeman opened the door and a gray-haired, plain-faced maid came through the door with a pile of towels.

  I sat down in front of the dressing table and started to apply my Chanel lipstick, the reddish pink one that is my favorite. As I looked in the mirror, I saw another face in back of me. Yasmin. Yasmin in a gray wig, no makeup, maid’s uniform, holding a gun. I jumped up.

  “Stay right where you are, sweetheart,” that familiar voice said. “You’re not going anywhere except with me. I need you as a hostage to get back to that hospital to get my mother’s body. I want to bring her back home to bury her. And you’re going to help me.”

  “How do you think you’re going to get out of this hotel?” I asked. “There are police everywhere. They’re all looking for you.”

  “Right. They’re looking for me, but they won’t even give a second glance to a maid. Maids are invisible. No one really knows what they look like. I walked in here right by that policeman guarding you. I’m taking you out of here in the laundry cart. One peep out of you and I’ll shoot you even if they catch me afterward. Understand?”

  I nodded. This could not be happening again. I didn’t believe it.

  She pulled the cart into the room and dumped out all the towels and sheets and told me to get in.

  I had one foot in the cart when the door to our suite opened and Gini came in. Without realizing what was happening, she said, “Forgot my camera, Pat. I want to get some shots of . . . Hey, what’s going on here?”

  “Watch out, Gini, she’s got a gun,” I yelled.

  Gini, whose reactions are faster than a speeding bullet, reached for the cart and shoved it with all her might into Yasmin. I fell into the cart. Yasmin’s gun went off before she fell on the floor, but she didn’t hit me. At the first sound of the gunshot, the room was filled with police officers who grabbed Yasmin, took away her gun, handcuffed her and dragged her out of the room.

  Pereira ran into the suite.

  “Senhora, senhora, are you all right?”

  I slumped inside the laundry cart, my face in my hands, my beautiful white dress torn on the side. I couldn’t speak.

  Gini jumped in the cart next to me and held me while I
tried to stop shaking. “It’s over, Pat, it’s over,” she said. “She won’t get away this time.”

  When I could speak, I said, “She always managed to escape before.”

  “Not this time, senhora,” Pereira said. “She’s going directly to jail this time. No more hospital visits or any other kind of visits for her.”

  “I just want to go home. Away from here.”

  “Think you’re up for one last incredible dinner at this hotel?” Gini asked. “Miguel invited us to a tasting dinner prepared by his five-star chef.”

  “I am so not hungry, Gini,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again.”

  “You don’t have to eat, but just come to be with us and to see the presentation. Should be spectacular. Wouldn’t be any fun without you.”

  “OK,” I said, my heart not in this dinner at all. “I have to change my dress. My favorite dress. It’s torn.”

  “You always look gorgeous whatever you wear,” Gini said.

  I certainly didn’t feel gorgeous, but I wasn’t going to disappoint these friends.

  I climbed out of that horrible laundry cart and changed into my light blue dress with the little white stars around the top, my ivory necklace and earrings. Gini stayed with me the whole time, just in case any more unwelcome guests popped into the room.

  When we went downstairs to the beautiful Cipriani Restaurant, Miguel bowed when he saw me and kissed my hand. “I have a special treat for you this evening, senhora,” he said. “I hope you will like it.”

  I managed a small smile. “Of course I will, Senhor Ortega.”

  My other Hoofers were waiting for us. They were dressed to kill, each one more beautiful than the other. They all gathered me up into a group hug and gently led me into a seat at the table in this lovely restaurant.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Travel Tips for Rio

  Soft music played in the background. White tablecloths, pale yellow roses, gleaming silver brought out the quiet elegance of the Cipriani Restaurant. Almost every table in the dining room was filled with formally dressed guests talking in low voices, obviously delighted to be in this famous hotel in their poshest restaurant. There were a few sloppily dressed Americans, but I tried to turn off my critical button and accept them the way they were. Some American men hate wearing starched shirts and ties and jackets on vacation. It was a fact of life.

  Tina tapped on her glass to get our attention.

  “Here’s to our Pat,” she said. “She is truly our heroine on this trip. How she got through all she did, I’ll never know. But we want her to know how much we love her.” She raised her glass of champagne and said, “To Pat!”

  All my friends, my trusty, loving, loyal friends who are always there for me, no matter what, raised their glasses and said, “To Pat!” in unison.

  “I love you all,” I said, raising my glass of coconut water and lime juice.

  Miguel applauded as he approached our table, followed by Luiz, the genial, genius chef who produced miracles in his kitchen every day.

  “Luiz will tell you what he has prepared for your tasting menu,” Miguel said. “Enjoy.”

  “Boa tarde, senhoras,” Luiz said. “I have prepared for you this evening my specialties, and I hope you will come back to see us again soon.”

  Not bloody likely in this lifetime, I thought, but listened to his description of our tasting menu.

  “First we start off with puff pastry and sesame crusted taleggio cheese with truffled mushrooms. Then, linguini with lobster, dill, and cherry tomatoes. Next, for your pleasure, a tuna mignon and foie gras with asparagus and Marsala wine reduction. Then my pièce de résistance, if I do say so myself, my ossobuco in gremola with saffron risotto. Finally, my eggplant gnocchi in tomato and basil sauce.”

  I was exhausted just listening to this list.

  Luiz saw the look on our faces. “You understand, lovely senhoras, you will only have a small portion of each of these things. I tried to give you a wide selection of tastes and textures so you will find a surprise in each one.”

  “We are eagerly waiting your specialties, Luiz,” Tina said. “Bring them on!”

  Luiz’s handsome face beamed with pleasure at her words, and he waved and went back to his kitchen.

  “I’ll never be able to eat all that,” I said. “I’m full already.”

  “It’s called a tasting menu for a reason,” Gini said. “The main purpose of all this is to excite our palates, present us with food we’ll never get anywhere else. Relax, Pat. Stop worrying. Just eat what you feel like eating. You’ll love this.”

  I realized old worrywart Pat was back. I took a deep breath and let go of everything but the anticipation of a wonderful meal with my best friends in the world.

  Tina tapped on her glass again. “OK, gang,” she said. “While we wait for the first course, how about helping me out with some travel tips for my honeymooners who are coming to Rio. I’ve got the most important one which is, ‘Don’t wander around by yourself at night. There are muggers everywhere.’ ”

  “Right,” Gini said. “Take someone like Mateus along with you.”

  “Even during the day, you should be careful,” Mary Louise said. “Remember, they told us to wear our purses across our chests, not hanging down over our shoulders.”

  “Everybody knows you have to be careful in Rio,” Tina said. “But I need some more upbeat tips for my honeymooners.”

  “They should check out the samba clubs,” Janice said. “They’re incredible. Great music, dancing, moving, moving, moving. You should tell them that they give you a card when you go in, which you should guard with your life. Whenever you order anything, they punch the amount on your card. If you lose the card they charge you some outrageous amount. So hang on to your card. Oh, and make sure the man you’re with doesn’t have another wife hidden away somewhere.”

  “That’s really good, Jan,” Tina said. “What else?”

  “You should probably tell them the best time of year to go to Rio,” I said. “I was talking to Yasmin about that—this was before I found out she was a murderer—and she said you should come here between May and October. That’s their winter, believe it or not. The temperature during the day is in the upper seventies and in the fifties at night so it’s really comfortable walking around. From January to March it’s hot, hot, hot—often in the hundreds. Carnaval is in February and your honeymooners might want to come for that. It lasts four days—parties, music, and fun—but bring your lightest clothes. Oh, and don’t come here in December because it rains all the time, often days at a time.”

  “Thanks, Pat,” Tina said. “That’s so useful.”

  “Not to be a worrywart or anything,” Mary Louise said. “But . . .”

  “That’s my job,” I said. “However, I’ll let you take over temporarily.”

  Mary Louise laughed. “I’ll never be as good at it as you are,” she said. “But, Tina, I think you should warn your readers about getting money here. I had to try several ATMs before I found one that would give me dollars with my bank card. When I tried to exchange my dollars for real in banks, the rate was abysmal. Finally someone told me to go to a cambio where the rates are fairly decent.”

  “That reminds me,” Gini said. “Another tip about ATMs. They’re closed between ten at night and six in the morning. Remember that night I went out to take pictures after we danced? I started to go to an ATM and Mateus said, ‘They’re closed now until morning.’ So I just used the little cash I had with me. They tell you not to have a lot of money on you at any time anyway.”

  I started to add Yasmin’s tip about bargaining when Miguel himself brought our first dish, the puff pastry with taleggio cheese and truffled mushrooms. One bite and I was in heaven. I had never tasted taleggio cheese before. It had a funny smell but it had a lovely fruity taste that went perfectly with the mushrooms.

  We nibbled away. Luiz was true to his word. The portion was small and just the right amount since we still had four more ta
sting courses to go.

  “What did you start to say, Pat?” Tina asked when the waiter had cleared away the dishes. “Something about shopping?”

  I started to answer her when the waiter appeared with our next course, which was even better than the one before—linguini with lobster, dill and cherry tomatoes.

  “Oh Tina,” Mary Louise said after her first bite. “Isn’t there some way we can stay here another day, or week, or . . .”

  “Wish we could, Wheezie,” Tina said. “But what would George do without you?”

  “Who cares?” she said, taking another bite and closing her eyes in ecstasy.

  “Go ahead, Pat,” Tina said. “What else did you find out about shopping?”

  “Yasmin also told me it’s OK to bargain in those street shops,” I said. “But if you go into the regular stores in the mall, you do not bargain. That’s insulting. They’re like our stores. You pay whatever is on the price tag. But the little boutiques on the street are fair game.”

  “Glad she was so helpful before she kidnapped you and tried to murder you,” Gini said.

  I tensed up. I could see Yasmin with that syringe in her hands, filling it with an anesthetic that would kill me. I shut my eyes and tried to blot out that memory.

  “Gini, sometimes you have no sense,” Tina said, reaching over to put her hand on mine. “Are you all right, Pat?”

  “Sort of,” I said.

  “Oh, Pat, I’m so sorry,” Gini said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I know you didn’t, Gini,” I said. “It’s just that it’s so recent, it still scares me to death.” I shook myself and came back to the present.

  “She also gave me some useful phone numbers you might want to include in the article, Tina,” I said.

  “What are they?” she said.

  “In case you’re robbed, you call 190 for the police. If you need an ambulance, you dial 192, and if you catch on fire, call 193. I think I’ll have those numbers tattooed on my arm.”

  “I’ll definitely include the police number in the article,” Tina said, “but I don’t want to make them think they’ll need an ambulance or the fire department on their honeymoon. I’m not even sure about the police number. I don’t want to emphasize the dangerous part of coming to Rio, even though everyone mentions it when you say you’re coming here.”