Bossa Novas, Bikinis, and Bad Ends Read online

  “You are the most disgusting person I’ve ever met,” Janice said, moving her chair farther away from Gini.

  “Do you lovely ladies always have such delightful lunch table conversations?” Natalia asked.

  “When Gini is with us, we usually do,” Tina said. “Didn’t any of you discover anything in the gardens that we can actually talk about?”

  “I saw some of the most beautiful birds I’ve ever seen,” Mary Louise said. “There’s nothing like them at home. There was a seven-colored tanager with a turquoise head, a blue vest, an orange back, and—he was amazing. There was a blue finch with a yellow beak. And I saw a green parakeet with a maroon belly. And a toucan with an incredibly bright orange throat—and . . .”

  Natalia’s phone interrupted Mary Louise’s birdsong. She left the table to answer it and was back in a minute with a worried look on her face.

  “Sorry, Hoofers,” she said. “We’ve got to get back to the hotel. There’s been another murder. Sumiko.”

  Oh my God, I thought. It can’t be. Why would anyone kill Sumiko?

  I took one quick bite of my sandwich and followed the others out to the van that was waiting at the gate for us.

  Nobody said anything on the way to the Copacabana. I’m sure the others all had the same sense of déjà vu I had. This was just like our trip to Giverny in France when bad news also ended our delicious lunch. One more murder like this and I’m giving up lunch.

  Pat’s Tip for Traveling with Friends: Keep track

  of who paid for what so you come out even at

  the end of the trip.

  Chapter Nine

  Have Another Bite, Honey

  Senhor Pereira, the chief of police, was waiting for us when we arrived at the hotel. He was tense, not as approachable as he had been with us before.

  “There has been another murder,” he said. “Senhora Ortega.”

  “What happened to her, Senhor Pereira?” Gini asked.

  “Perhaps you will allow me to ask the questions, Senhora Miller,” the chief of police said sternly. “I don’t want to discuss the details of this case. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course, senhor,” Gini said and had the sense to shut up and step back.

  “If you will follow me into the office in the back, I would like to ask you a few questions.”

  We followed him into Yasmin’s office. As I might have expected, there was a lot of color in this room. Paintings on the wall. A red leather chair behind the desk. If you could call an office sensual, this was. Like Yasmin herself. She was already sitting there with Miguel, whose face was expressionless. He seemed numb, unable to greet us when we came in with Natalia. Dr. Souza sat next to him, glancing at him with a concerned look on his face.

  The chief of police looked around the office and frowned.

  “Lucas should be here too,” Pereira said. “Where is he?”

  “I sent for him,” Yasmin said. “He should be here soon.”

  “We’ll wait,” the chief said.

  No one said anything as we sat there waiting for Lucas to appear. All sorts of thoughts were running through my head. A lot of the theories that popped up in my mind in the botanical gardens had to be revised. Why would anyone want to kill Sumiko? She was a pleasant enough, little woman, certainly not annoying enough for anyone to kill her. The only person who might have wanted her out of the way was Maria, who was fooling around with her husband, but Maria was dead too.

  Miguel. He wouldn’t have killed his wife just so he could marry somebody else. A simple divorce would have been enough. How about Natalia? Could she have killed Maria and Sumiko? I couldn’t think of any earthly reason this sparkly little singer would have wanted to kill them, but we had only known her for two days.

  What about Yasmin? She might have wanted to kill Maria because of Lucas, although that certainly seemed unlikely. She said she didn’t even like him. But why would she kill Sumiko? None of it made any sense, but I was sure the police chief would figure it out. I liked him. Very smart, good with people, experienced.

  The office door opened, and Lucas came in, nervous, looking around the room, his gaze stopping at Yasmin, who must have given him some hidden signal because he calmed down and said to Pereira, “I’m sorry. I just got your message.”

  “Sit down, senhor,” the chief said.

  We were all silent, waiting for his next words.

  “The medical examiner has removed Senhora Ortega’s body from her room to the lab where they will do tests to determine what killed her. We think she may have been poisoned by the same drug that killed Maria, but we won’t know until the lab has done tests. I do not want the guests in the hotel to find out about this just yet. Our technologist is running their names through the computer to see if any of them might be connected to either Maria or Sumiko in some way. Until then, I would appreciate it if all of you would try to act as normal as possible.”

  A low moan came out of Senhor Ortega when the chief said this.

  “My apologies, Senhor Ortega,” Pereira said. “I know how hard this must be for you.”

  Miguel wiped his eyes and nodded.

  The police chief turned to us next. “You can play a big part in making things look like nothing has happened,” he said. “Do you think you can dance tonight?”

  “We will do our best, senhor,” Tina said. Her voice was low, but her manner conveyed her confidence that we would be able to do this. I knew we could do it. That’s one thing about being our age. We’ve all been through a lot of very difficult situations. We know how to do what we have to do without a lot of fuss.

  “And you, senhora,” the chief said to Natalia. “You were close to both women. Do you think you will be able to perform tonight?”

  One thing I knew about Natalia by now. She might seem like a little fly-by-night flibbertigibbet, but she had nerves of steel and could do anything she had to do with grace and strength.

  “You can count on me, senhor,” she said.

  “Obrigado, senhora,” he said, bowing. “You may all go now, but I will want to talk to you separately later on after we find out exactly how Senhora Ortega died.” He turned to look at the doctor. “Dr. Souza, may I have a word with you privately?”

  The chief motioned for the rest of us to leave and closed the door after we were gone.

  “Wonder what that’s all about,” Gini said as we returned to the lobby. “He must suspect the doctor if he asked to speak to him alone. Especially if Sumiko died from the same anesthetic that Maria did.”

  “We don’t know that, Gini,” Tina said.

  “I don’t care what anyone says,” Natalia said. “I don’t trust that doctor.”

  “Neither do I,” Yasmin said.

  “Why not?” Gini asked.

  Yeah, I thought, why not? What’s wrong with that good-looking doctor? Aside from the fact that he was an anesthesiologist and Maria and maybe Sumiko died from being injected with an anesthetic, of course.

  “Well,” Natalia said, looking around to make sure the doctor was still in the office with Pereira, “I read about another doctor—actually he was from New Jersey—who was an anesthesiologist convicted of killing his wife with this anesthetic that disappears from the body. You know—that succinylcholine chloride I told you about. The police were sure he killed her but they couldn’t prove it because it looked like his wife had died of a heart attack. There was no trace of any poison in her body. The medical examiner, though, was a brilliant man who managed to find traces of this anesthetic in her brain and liver. I think he puréed her brain or something.”

  “Ewwww,” Janice said.

  “It turned out the doctor killed his wife because he had a heart condition and was living on a disability income,” Natalia continued. “That wasn’t enough for him though. He wanted more money so he took out a large insurance policy on his wife and killed her. His lawyer, F. Lee Bailey—”

  “F. Lee Bailey,” Gini said. “He had F. Lee Bailey as his lawyer? Wow! He’s a
wesome.”

  “Yeah, wow,” Natalia said. “He was sure he was home-free with Bailey as his lawyer and an anesthetic that couldn’t be detected. But a smart prosecutor and an even smarter medical examiner got him convicted.”

  “What a story,” Gini said. “But you’re not saying Ortega murdered his wife to get insurance money, are you? Or that Dr. Souza helped him by supplying the anesthetic?”

  “No, no,” Natalia said. “But I’m sure Souza is involved in this somehow. He certainly had easy access to that drug.”

  “It’s all just speculation at this point,” Tina said. “What do you say we practice the bossa nova that we’re doing tonight. I think we need a change of scene—and a change of subject. Come on. The dance floor is clear. The band is over there tootling around. Let’s ask them to play. Want to sing with us, Natalia?”

  “You bet,” she said.

  Tina was right. I was relieved to get off the subject of murder. I could see the others were too.

  Natalia asked the band to play “Blame It on the Bossa Nova,” and we swung into the dance, which starts off with a waltz step, one-two-three-four, then back two steps and cross one foot in back of the other. She sang the lyrics in her sexy, very Brazilian style as we danced.

  We were really getting into it, moving our bodies, dancing faster with a lot of hip moving when a few of the guests at the hotel came into the room to watch us. Gradually more and more of them came in, swaying to the music, wanting to join in.

  Tina motioned for the band to stop.

  “Listen, guys,” she said to us. “I’ve got an idea. See what you think.”

  We gathered around her and Natalia squeezed in next to me.

  “Why don’t we ask the men in the audience to join us?” Tina said.

  “What do you mean—join us?” Gini said, looking skeptical, the way she always does.

  “They’re obviously dying to dance,” Tina said. “So why not let them? What do you think of this idea? Tonight, we start off dancing by ourselves the way we always do, and then when everybody is caught up in the music and the rhythm and the excitement of the bossa nova, we move into the audience, still dancing, and pick a man to dance with us on stage. They’ll love it and so will we.”

  “What if they can’t dance?” Gini asked. She always has to look for some reason a plan won’t work. Come to think of it, that’s usually my job.

  “Let’s try it out now,” Tina said. “And see what happens. I’ll bet they’re all great dancers. This isn’t New Jersey, you know.”

  I love New Jersey, but you could travel from Ridgewood to South Amboy and you wouldn’t find a single man who could bossa nova with you, unless he was Latino or, better still, Brazilian.

  “I say let’s do it,” Janice said. Janice is always up for everything. I knew Mary Louise would go along with whatever the rest of us wanted to do. I also knew that Gini would join us too. She had to make some kind of a fuss first. It’s her nature.

  “It’s a great idea, Tina,” Natalia said. “One small suggestion, though. To keep their wives or dates from hating you, once you’ve danced with their husbands, lead the men back to their tables and invite the women to dance with them too.”

  “Brilliant, Natalia,” Tina said. “That’s a truly inspired suggestion. OK, let’s try doing that now—you know, asking one of the guests to dance—and see what happens.”

  Natalia wiggled with joy the way she always does and ran over to the band to tell them what we were going to do. I could tell from their expressions and the way they started to play with even more vigor than before that they liked the whole idea too.

  We took our places on the polished floor and started bossa novaing again, putting our hearts and hips into it. We followed Tina’s lead when she danced out into the group of guests and chose a tall black man, young and muscular, to come back on the floor with her. He looked first at his wife who smiled and nodded yes, and then he followed Tina and did a perfect bossa nova with her. Not a false step. The guests cheered.

  Gini, our doubter, was, of course, next to join in. She approached a man who was circling in place, unable to stop moving. He wasn’t particularly good-looking, but who cared? He could dance. Man, could he dance! He followed Gini onto the floor, joining Tina and her partner and swung into a bossa nova to die for.

  The guests were really getting into this. They obviously loved the whole idea. Janice didn’t even have to choose a partner. Dr. Souza was leaving Yasmin’s office and when he saw what was going on, he put his arm around Janice and danced onto the floor with her without missing a beat. He was a natural. Handsome, sexy, somewhat mysterious, and obviously totally enthralled by Janice. Well, you know, most men are.

  Mary Louise was a little shyer about dancing up to some man and asking him to bossa nova with her, but one of the women guests gave her husband a little push toward her. It didn’t take more than that slight shove for him to follow Mary Louise back to the floor with the rest of us. He was just as good a dancer as the rest of them.

  I was the last to choose. I’m always the last to choose because I have to weigh every alternative before I can make up my mind about anything. I know it’s annoying, but what can I tell you? It’s the way I am. Denise is very patient with me. While I was trying to decide which man to choose, Yasmin appeared from nowhere and guided me gently onto the dance floor. At first, I wasn’t sure whether I should do this. Do women dance with women in Rio? Probably. They seem to do everything in Rio. Anyway, the music got to me. I couldn’t resist. I let Yasmin rock me into the best bossa nova I’ve ever done.

  Nobody wanted to stop. The band kept playing more and more enthusiastically. The rest of the guests were applauding and dancing in place. Natalia jazzed up her singing and did a little bossa novaing as she sang.

  Police chief Pereira came out of Yasmin’s office and started to leave. His official business was done for the moment, but he was Brazilian, after all. He couldn’t resist the excitement in that room. He stood on the side and clapped with the rest of the guests.

  It was the most fun I’ve had on all our trips, I think. Maybe because it was so spontaneous, so unplanned. So unlike the rest of my life back home. I didn’t want it to stop.

  Tina finally motioned to us to bring our guests back to their tables. The others led their partners back to their wives or partners, who were more than ready to dance. Yasmin gave me a little hug—nothing sexy, just a friendly squeeze—and left the room.

  “Time for a shower and some dinner before we do this again tonight,” Tina said. “I think it went well, don’t you?”

  “We definitely have to do this at every performance,” Janice said. “I mean, that doctor can dance!”

  We all told her how much fun it had been and went to our rooms.

  Back in our suite, Gini started in on me. “What’s going on with you and Yasmin, Pat?” she asked. “You were really into that dance with her. I’ve never seen you dance like that with Denise.”

  “Oh, relax, Gini,” I said. “It was just a friendly dance. Denise and I dance all the time. Not the bossa nova, but we dance.”

  “Looked like a lot more than friendly to me,” Gini said.

  “Get in that shower before I throw you in,” I said, laughing and pushing her toward the bathroom.

  We dressed in silky caftans, creamy white for Gini, pale yellow for me, and joined our other Hoofers in the dining room.

  “I don’t know how you can eat anything,” Janice said. “We have to dance tonight, and I don’t see anything light on this menu.”

  Tina beckoned to the waiter. “Could you help us out here?” she said. “We want something light to eat, and we’re not familiar with Brazilian dishes. What’s good but not heavy?”

  The waiter was perfectly trained to deal with noneating Americans. He said to us in excellent English, “I can suggest several dishes that are light but delicious, senhora.” He pointed to a few items on the menu and described them to us.

  “There’s our bobo de camara
o,” he said. “That’s shrimp in a purée of manioc—you may know this as cassava—meal, with coconut milk and palm oil. Or you might like the chef’s galin-hada. That’s a chicken and rice stew, which is a little heavier than the shrimp, but still light enough, I think.”

  “They sound good, but still a little too much for us tonight,” Tina said. “Anything else that’s more like a lunch dish or a snack?”

  “Ah,” the waiter said. “I know just the thing. Try our pastels. They’re usually just for snacks, but might be perfect for you. They’re pastry shells filled with meat, or mozzarella, or chicken, little shrimp, almost anything you want. They are delightful and might be just what you’re looking for.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Gini said. “That’s what I’ll have, please.”

  We all ordered the pastels, and the others drank caipirinhas, while I sipped on my coconut water and lime juice. It’s OK, though. I was used to it by now.

  I had expected Natalia to join us, but was surprised to see her dining at another table with Dr. Souza. She looked stunning in a low-cut red gown—very low-cut—and was leaning toward him listening intently as he talked to her. She didn’t even glance up to smile or wave at us as she usually did.

  “Wonder what Natalia and the doctor are talking about over there,” I said to Gini, who was sitting next to me.

  “Probably figuring out whom to murder next,” she said. “I think I heard your name mentioned. In fact I’m sure I heard her say, ‘I just can’t stand Pat.’ ”

  “You know you’re the worst person in the world, don’t you?” I said. “If they kill anybody, it should be you.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I know. Aren’t you glad you got to room with me?”

  “Never again,” I said. “Next time, I’m staying with Mary Louise. She’s always nice to me.” I didn’t really mean it, of course. I love Mary Louise, but I have more fun with Gini. Always.