A Small Death in Lisbon. Robert Thomas Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ tights in this weather?’

      ‘No, just bra and pants.’

      ‘Any particular make?’

      She didn’t answer but squeezed her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger and then rubbed them together to disperse the grease.

      ‘Did you hear the question, Dona Oliveira?’

      ‘I just . . .’

      Carlos leaned forward and the sofa creaked underneath so he stopped halfway. Senhora Oliveira blinked her slightly enclosed brown eyes.

      ‘Sloggi,’ she said.

      ‘Did something else occur to you then, Dona Oliveira?’

      ‘A horrible thought . . . when you asked about the underwear.’

      ‘Your husband’s already told us that Catarina has been sexually active for some years.’

      Carlos sat back. She dabbed at her smudged lower lip with a finger.

      ‘Dona Oliveira?’

      ‘Was there a question, Inspector Coelho?’

      ‘I wondered if you’d tell us what’s on your mind, it might help.’

      ‘It’s every mother’s fear that their daughter might get raped and killed,’ she said, automatically, as if that hadn’t been what she was thinking.

      ‘How have you been getting on with your daughter over the past couple of years?’

      ‘He’s told you . . .’ she started, and held herself back.

      ‘What exactly?’ I asked.

      She darted a look at Carlos who didn’t help.

      ‘How we haven’t been getting on.’

      ‘Mothers and daughters don’t always . . .’

      ‘. . . compete,’ she finished for me.

      ‘Compete?’ I asked, and she picked up on my surprise.

      ‘I don’t think this will help you find Catarina.’

      ‘I’d like to know more about her psychological state. If she was likely to get herself into a difficult situation. She’s a confident girl. That could have been the start of the . . .’

      ‘Why do you say she’s confident?’

      ‘She fronts a band . . . that needs something.’

      ‘It wasn’t a very successful band,’ she said, and switched. ‘Yes, it’s true, she can appear older than she is.’

      ‘Is that what you meant by competing?’

      Our eyes connected but she couldn’t hold mine for more than a few seconds. She seemed to steady herself against the coffee table, rapping it with her ringed fingers.

      ‘I didn’t . . . I’m wondering what he’s told you now,’ she said, glancing at the door.

      ‘Just tell me what happened.’

      ‘Did he tell you I found Catarina in bed with my brother?’

      ‘Why would you see that as competitive?’

      ‘He’s thirty-two years old.’

      ‘But he’s your brother.’

      ‘I don’t see any reason to be discussing middle-age female paranoia with someone investigating my daughter’s disappearance. The fact is if she can get him she can . . .’

      ‘Your husband said that too.’

      ‘This is hopeless.’

      ‘Maybe your brother’s the one to help us with . . .’

      ‘I don’t know why he has to do this . . . now of all times.’

      ‘He?’

      ‘I didn’t find Catarina in bed with my brother. She was with my lover,’ she said, coolly, now that she’d given up the pretence.

      ‘Do you still see this man?’

      ‘Are you insane, Inspector?’

      ‘And your daughter?’

      Silence.

      ‘I don’t know,’ she said, after a while.

      ‘I’ll need to speak to him,’ I said.

      Carlos handed her the notebook. She scribbled fiercely and finished with a pile-driving dot that must have gone through to the cardboard.

      ‘How did your husband find out?’

      She pushed up her chin like a boxer who could take anything now. Truth, part truth and lies passed behind her eyes.

      ‘You can imagine the atmosphere in this house . . . between me and Catarina. My husband talked to her. He’s good with words. He wrung it out of her.’

      ‘Did she seduce your lover . . . Paulo Branco?’

      ‘The delicacy of young flesh is difficult to resist so I’m told.’ She said it in a way that particularly pained her.

      ‘She was a drug-user. Your husband knows about hashish. Were you aware of her taking anything stronger?’

      ‘I wouldn’t know the difference. I’ve never taken drugs.’

      ‘But you know how you feel when you’ve taken a sleeping pill. Senhora Oliveira?’

      ‘I go to sleep.’

      ‘In the morning, I mean.’

      She blinked.

      ‘Doesn’t it give you an insulated feeling, the real world kept at a distance? Did you ever notice Catarina in that state or perhaps the opposite, nervous, hyperactive, wired . . . I think they call it?’

      ‘I really don’t know,’ she said.

      ‘Does that mean you didn’t notice or . . .’

      ‘It means that, of late, I haven’t cared.’

      It was a long silence in which the unheard air conditioning made its presence felt.

      ‘How did she get her money?’ I asked.

      ‘I gave her five thousand escudos a week.’

      ‘What about clothes.’

      ‘I СКАЧАТЬ