

Angels

the Judith's Secret

Wudson Silva

#

#  CONTENTS

Preface 3

Monday 7

Tuesday 16

Wednesday 44

Thursday 67

Friday 83

Saturday 93

Sunday 113

Monday 137

Two Years Later 163

# 

# Preface

Dr. Santiago, the Chief of Police responsible for the iconoclast murderer, and Clóvis, his best detective were gathered for over an hour.

– But, Clóvis...

Santiago hesitated baffled with the recent and deranged line of thought of the detective. After all, how could a one-week trip to the countryside of Minas Gerais solve the investigation about the mysterious iconoclast that was spreading terror throughout Brazil? Would the old-time Chief of Police get retired without seeing the logic used by his detective?

– But, Clóvis, how could a murder that took place in the middle of nowhere be related to our investigation? I understand that this woman was killed on the yard of the parish house, and that reminds us of the church, which reminds of the altar, which reminds of sacred images etc. However, just ask for a report by the local police and, of course, we will see that nothing that you read in this hicktown newspaper is connected to this huge confusion spread around the main centers in the country. It is clearly a coincidence!

– We will use it as bait, Santiago. We both know damm well that these are two different cases.

– So, how come this iconoclast guy would fall into a trap that has no connection with the crimes perpetrated by him?

– Media is everything to him — Clóvis grinned — and everything we need is a place far from the telecommunication networks. This will do the job for us!

– How so?

– We need to paralyze him. Attract him to a neutral field and take him far from this coverage that has been helping him. Then, clearly, we get him!

Dr. Santiago started to think. His eyes went from the old office desk to the windows on the second floor of the Civil Police department. His eyes rested looking far away. Consequently, regardless of how unpleasant that view was with buildings, cars and pollution, he felt his mind rest. Despite of all matters he no longer felt bad with all that grey ahead of him. After so many years observing that sad view, he ended up captivated by it.

— Media! — Dr. Santiago shouted once again apprehensive.

— That is why you are acting this way. This thing of giving explanations to radio reporters and magazines... even a live press conference! You were already using this strategy for a while, weren't you? Pure strategy, smart ass! Now I get it...

— And, for a while now you no longer question my methods, Doc...

Santiago made a reflection about his behavior lately. In fact, he no longer reproved his investigation methods and allowed things to be elucidated as planned by his detective, but this was something he wouldn't want to talk about. However, a simple look was enough to demonstrate mutual and sincere trust.

— He is too smart, Clóvis, and we do not have evidences that he is really the iconoclast.

— When I talk about attracting him to a neutral field, I am talking about taking him to a place where there are no witnesses, also. Do you understand?

The Chief of Police opened his eyes in surprise.

— How?

— A distant location. Surrounded by a forest...

— With no one around! How can we corner him? — questioned the Chief of Police — He will have to say the truth, is it?

— Something like that.

The Chief of Police silenced again, wishing to call him crazy, deranged, lunatic, and other things, but there was no need to say anything. The confident smile on Clóvis face indicated the adjectives going through his head. And, Santiago knew him well enough.

— What will you say to get him there?

— I will think about it later. I just need you to tell the rest of the team that I was too stressed with this case and that you forced me to take a vacation, that you don't know about my whereabouts and that I left my cell phone. Oh! Feel free to call me crazy, deranged, lunatic, and other things, ok?

— This I always do!

Both of them laughed. The Chief of Police, despite of considering Clóvis' ideas a bit strange, learned to enjoy the adventures created by his detective. No matter how insane they were, at the end they always worked.

Clóvis left on his table the newspaper that reported the murder of the woman on the year of the parish house of a city called Rio Vermelho and a letter that explained the methods to "arrest" the iconoclast.

— One week is all I need — remembered Clóvis.

The Chief of Police, cornered, accepted the proposal. They shook hands. The detective left with firm but calm steps.

Santiago put the envelope in the drawer, as if it did not trigger his interest for the content and opened the newspaper on the page of the mysterious murder:

A brutal crime shocked the city of Rio Vermelho on yesterday's morning, when the body of Judith Figueiredo, 32 years of age, was found on the parish's house yard. The body was found inside of a star painted to the floor. She was well-dressed and without indications of rape.

The police believes in an act of revenge by a man who accidentally fell down after bumping with her downtown. The suspect is known as a sorcerer. Several witnesses heard him saying things in a strange language after falling. It seemed that he was extorting the young catechist...

He stopped reading and observed two pictures that showed the face of a beautiful woman, exhibiting a merry smile, and next to it, her body inside a hexagonal star.

Santiago focused on the smile of the young catechist and then began chuckling. The chuckle turned into laughter... he couldn't stop. He had to seat for he lost the strength. Finally, he started sweating and coughing as if he could not contain his emotions. Only after a while he could get his breath again.

# Monday

Certain things in this world only happen to me. It is ridiculous to be seating on the shadow of this chestnut tree, the last stop of a bus that never gets here on time.

No wonder! With that lousy driver. I mean, they all are bad, no bus would get here on time. It is an endless line of people getting on and off buses, waving goodbye to their friends, sending goodbyes to the entire family and leaving the impression that they will never ever see each other again.

I know there is no one that enjoys travelling through this dusty and bumpy road during this heat.

And I have to stay here, waiting someone that I never saw before in my life only because the bastard district attorney repelled the result of the investigations made by the Chief of Police and demanded the presence of a detective from the capital to help in the investigation?

That miserable bastard called me incompetent right to my face! And, as if this wasn't enough, the irresponsible Chief of Police goes on a trip and leave me with this big problem.

These things only happen to me.

The damm bus is here, finally, late, of course.

I won't even get up to welcome the detective. After all, he will be the first strange to get here with a lot of bags and asking for information.

Said and done!

He had his back turned to me, about sixty years, crookbacked, grizzled and nearly bald: a huge baldness up to the back of the head. By his look he must be a pain in the ass. While he asked for information, I started picking up the pile of bags next to him.

— Isaías? — said the old man.

It was not the detective, he was my uncle Pedro that was talking to the fare collector.

— Ok, my boy, my nephew will help me carry the bags.

What a day! Now I have to drive my uncle home, and late on drive back to accompany this miserable detective to the hotel...

— Ok, you may drive your uncle home, I wait. — said a man taller and younger than I am. Appeared between the other passengers and read my thoughts.

— So, this is Rio Vermelho. — proceeded, keeping a half-hearted smile on his face and observing the houses around the square. — I will wait for you over there, in one of those benches close to the church. I heard that there are bullet holes from a shooting with a Chief of Police. Even the church got hit. The walls and palm trees are filled with bullets...

Bad news travel like wildfire. Definitely, he did not look like a detective at all!

— You were called last week — I said — Why did you take so long? Rio Vermelho is not that far, is it?

— I had to solve some problems with an iconoclast.

— Problems with whom?

— Never mind. This is another story. Go on, take your uncle home and we talk later, ok?

I waved goodbye and got into the Variant with my uncle gabbling nonstop. He wanted to know how was my mother, once the news that she was hospitalized had been a shock, and old people tend to think the worst.

Mammy really had little time to go, but I decided to tell him she was recovering. I did not want to hear all that crap about taking her to a better hospital. Everyone goes to a better hospital, however, the doctors and nurses are always the same old crap.

I left uncle Pedro at my home — a nice complement to my family: a stupid wife, two sons and a daughter with no charms at all and, now, a gabbling and evangelical uncle.

I drove back thinking about the price of the gasoline that, certainly, was not going to be refunded.

I parked my car close to the church and sat down on the bench to the opposite direction of the square, a visible place to the eyes of that detective. Despite of the half-height rails surrounding the flower-beds I could see him, so he could see me as well. I hope he realizes I am in a hurry!

But he seemed so distracted that he did not notice I was there. It looked like he was doing magic to a bunch of children that live on the square. You have to be a child to fall for that crap. Since it was taking a long time, I decided to get closer, to watch him doing magic.

Suddenly, on the sidewalk, there she was, Eva, the Mayor's daughter: blond hair, rosy skin, with a slim waist, just sixteen years of age, with everything on the right places and with a dress blowing with the wind. I desired to be the wind at that time... the day is even more colorful.

Eva passed-by right in front of the detective's eye and he didn't even notice! How can someone that looks like a guy not look at someone looking like her? He is a faggot, there is no other explanation!

Finally, he stood up and walked towards me.

— Nice to meet you, my name is Clóvis, and I am not a faggot.

— Why would you say this?! — I freaked.

— Because... well... because every time I play with children, people think I am a faggot, that is why. They were throwing rocks at a poor pigeon that was building its nest on one of the palm trees on the square. So, I called them to perform some magic and make them forget about the poor bird.

— Oh, good! — I snarled — Children today have no respect, let alone birds. Where are your bags?

— This is it — he replied showing his backpack.

— How long do you plan to stay?

— Seven days should be enough.

— Do you want to solve this crime in only seven days?

He shook his head affirmatively and kept his eyes fixed on the pigeon's flight that did a sharp descend close to him and went back to the nest, in a hole on the top of one of the old palm trees in the square. He was amazed, he had the silliest look on his face, as if he had never seen a pigeon before.

I walked him to the hotel, so close to the square that we took no more than three minutes to get there. I decided to go on foot and avoid him looking inside my Variant.

— If I knew that the hotel was so close, I would not give you so much trouble — he said, right outside that joint.

— I have nothing to do. It is good, this way time flies by fast.

Mayor's daughter passes by once again, this time riding her bicycle. I wish I were her seat.

— Clóvis, look at the prize of Rio Vermelho, the mayor's daughter...

— By the way — he interrupted me — what is your name?

— My name is Isaías. Look! — I insisted — She took off her dress and put on some shorts, lucky day!

— The day is even more colorful! — he said.

I put my entire attention on him: that sentence had just crossed my mind!

— Well, Isaías, I will be tomorrow morning at the police station. We will interrogate that sorcerer that is in jail and, following, we will see who are the other parties in this case.

— I find it weird for you to say that you are capable of solving this problem in only one week...

— I intend to leave on Monday, and with this case solved.

— I got you. However, for what you read on the report, do you think that Judith's murderer is not the sorcerer?

— I already solved enigmas that baffled everyone. Things published on the first page of newspapers. If the sorcerer is guilty, we will find out tomorrow. At what times does the bus leaves on Monday?

— The only time the bus leaves town is at seven in the morning. If you miss this, the next one only leaves town on the next day, why?

— Because it is exactly on this bus that I must leave.

— I have never seen someone so meticulous! Do you really think it will be that easy?

— Things get easier when analyzed from several points of view. As lower the number of points of view capable of being analyzed is, the more ignorant the human being is. I will tell you a story ...

While he told his adventures as detective, Eva was near the corner of the street, heading towards the square. From where we were it was possible to see the hospital. Then I had the idea of visiting my mother and, if awake, tell her that her brother came to visit.

Clóvis ended the story and laughed. I laughed along so that he would not feel dull, but I wasn't really listening.

— Interesting! - I said artificially — Maybe later we meet at some bar and tell some other cases. I could use some cold beer and women. The city is small, but we have some delights.

— I am sorry, but I don't drink. We may take a walk around and you may show me the city...

We parted and I ran to see the Mayor's daughter walking at the church square, but she was gone. So, I got inside the Variant with the intention of getting home as fast as I could, what made me scratch my car floor when I drove over a speed-bump. Every time I drive over that asphalt mountain built next to the church I curse the responsible for that "speed-bump." He could have built some less exaggerated.

I entered a street that had a single house: Judith's. When I thought about her death, it reminded, unintentionally, that I had to visit my mother at the hospital... Never mind! I will visit her tomorrow, no later, and I will drive my uncle, also.

The night has fallen.

I took a quick bath, put on some better clothes, put on some perfume, and told Madalena, my wife, that I was going out to keep an eye on a suspect and went downtown.

Some friends and I usually hang out at the João's bar, leaning on the cracked glass counter. Besides, It is a nice match to the cracks on the walls. João tries to hide his negligence with some posters with half-naked women displaying their curves and hands holding beer bottles and glasses.

The bar is so full of posters that you could barely see the walls. And we spend our time there, drinking, telling jokes, looking at other men's women, discussing politics, soccer and other important matters.

I commented about the arrival of the detective Clóvis to town and the story of the so called iconoclast, what I don't even know exactly what it means. I talked about the possibilities of him guessing my thoughts. Everyone laughed off of my face and I cursed them! I hate when people mock me.

— Do you think he made a pact with the devil? — questioned David, the prison guard, bursting into laughter. Not a very good employee, but great on saying bullshit.

They kept on laughing. I looked outside the bar trying to avoid confusion, it was when I saw an individual walking in a slow pace, got into the bar and greeted me. The others realized that he was Clóvis and stopped mocking me.

— Beer? — asked João, the bar owner.

— No, thanks. I don't drink — he thanked with a smile.

— You don't know what you are missing! — joked, again, David, the prison guard. The others also laughed. I thought that was really dull.

— Why did you take so long? — I questioned him, getting him out of the trash-talk circle.

— I was taking a look at the gate on the back of the parish house. Someone called Elias, a butcher on that street, was curious when he saw me close to the gate and went over to know what I was doing.

— Elias is a pig! — I said — You did not shake his hands, did you?

— No, why?

— Because he doesn't wash his hands. He kills the cattle, works the entire day with the meat and has his hands filled with blood the entire time. Even so people buy meat from him.

— That is good to know — he smiled.

— What did he say?

— He explained me the position of the gate after being forced and the traces of mud on the sidewalk, left by the murderers after breaking into the parish house's yard. Elias was the first one to witness the murder scene and he was the one who called the police.

— He already gave his deposition — I said.

— He told me, also, how the body was. A new fact to me is that he told me that Judith had her neck broken for some reason, and the police inquiry only registered a blow to the head.

— The blow to the head was so violent that broke her neck! Is there any more convincing reason?

— Would it be so simple?

— There are no traces of blood in anywhere else, other than there. Do you have a better explanation?

Clóvis remain in silence, with mystery in his eyes.

— And what difference does this make? — I questioned.

— Details are important.

— If you had seen the size of the hole on her head, you would not mind about the neck. Besides, what does that butcher Elias know about the human body?

— Little, probably, but he is a butcher and has some notion about meat, blood, muscles and bones. I noted that he demonstrated a lot of affection for her. Don't you find it weird?

— Everyone in town liked Judith a lot.

— We crossed that street this afternoon before getting to the hotel, why didn't you tell me that there was the crime scene?

— The gate was fixed on the same morning of the murder. I have so many things to think that I did not even remember at the time.

— Oh, good! — he gnarled.

The detective left the service aside and participate in the group's discussions. While we talked, I noticed something weird: sometimes he looked to the walls, to the ceiling, behind people, as if he was trying to listen to something other than us talking — really as if he was hearing voices. Despite that, he talked low, without cursing, or laughing out loud as we did, but knew how to tell funny jokes, and after all everyone liked him.

— Five beers on me, please.

— Thank you — said João, with a shine to his eyes.

We rarely paid right away. I, for example, only pay my tabs when I get the payment, which is always late.

— Well, Isaías, the talking is good, but tomorrow will be a long day.

— I made a lot of discoveries today. Excess of information causes confusion and get nowhere. I need to rest. See you later!

Clóvis said goodbye and left. I looked to my clock and could not believe at the time he was leaving. Children stay out longer without any problem.

— João! — I yelled — Where are our five beers?!

— But the money was to pay for what you already got, right? — questioned the owner of the bar.

— João! — this time in a firm tone — We will have the five beers he paid, NOW!

The guys clapped their hands and, for a while, I felt like a hero. This is how I like to feel; the blood flowing with energy through my veins and the muscles swelling...

Well, I got home drunk.

#

# Tuesday

A frizzing cold, a mist, hangover, a wife that doesn't know how to make coffee, one whole week ahead; a shitty workplace, and today is only Tuesday. I don't have reasons to return the "good morning" of my esteemed colleague sitting outside the prison, looking at butterflies. Faggot! And, in fact I will not give him good morning.

— Being grumpy doesn't take you anywhere.

— I got a hangover and a headache. That is all!

He laughed without taking the eyes from the butterflies surrounding the police station's garden.

— Does the so called sorcerer have any relatives that may help him?

— No. The woman that lived with him disappeared and left him with a daughter to raise by himself, but the girl is at his church's shepherd house.

— How old is she?

— Maybe six or seven, why?

— I need arguments, and this may be vital.

I tried not to think anything stupid, because after him saying the things that went through my mind, and watching him observe the empty corners of the bar, and after David joking about a possible pact with the devil, I got even more suspicious. Today he will try to speak with the sorcerer... I think I am in some terrible mess.

The sorcerer was no longer a sorcerer. He was now an evangelical and no longer desired to be called a sorcerer. In the last years he walked around in suit and tie, with a bible on his hands. His conversion drew many followers to that church exactly because he was considered an expert in rituals and voodoos.

Then, three weeks ago, a group of evangelicals decided to preach on the square, a little further from the final bus stop. People gathered around; there were even some catholic. Imagine: a collective worship where exactly the catholic and the parish house are located! No priest would like to see an event like this so close to his home. Especially the priest in our church.

Father Lázaro is very conservative and had the power to keep the discipline with a simple look. I am a big fan! If everyone else had the culture that he has, the world would be different.

All of a sudden the priest appeared on the blue frame of the window on the top floor of the parish house, where we could see clearly the evangelical gathering. Then, it was easy to predict what would happen only by observing his cranky appearance and clenched hands: things would not be easy on that square. While the evangelicals prayed, right in the middle of the "Glory, Hallelujah", "Amen, Lord" and other things, the priest showed up with a hard stick and attacked. Everyone started running everywhere; even the dogs at the square got hit. I have never seen someone hating animals as much as him. I laughed hard!

Since every evangelical is "weak", not one of them stood against the priest. Instead, those responsible for the event requested everyone to go back to their homes and reflected on what had just occurred.

"The devil disguises himself as an angel of light, but deep down he just wants to rule God's kingdom!", said the shepherd directly at the priest, who replied yelling "Misbelievers!".

It was then when Josias, the sorcerer, could no longer take the insults and, when everyone walked away in silence, turned and yelled:

— You have not heard the last of this! — Walking backwards, raising his forefinger and repeating the threat wildly and loudly.

And Judith, one of the catechists of the catholic church, was walking on the opposite direction of the evangelicals. She was at a cousin's house walking without direction and did not know about any of this up to that point. When she faced the crowd in the middle of the streets and realized that evangelicals were returning, she decided to walk through them with her head down.

And there Judith went, looking down, walking and avoiding the mass of people angry at the city's priest behavior. And, consequently, she did not see the one walking backwards — it was Josias yelling "You have not heard the last of this!".

That is, they could not see each other, and inadvertently, they bumped into each other strongly. The sorcerer, stumbling, fell over the feet of an elderly woman before hitting the pavement. The old woman twisted her ankle and had to be sent to the hospital in pain. Judith did not fall down thanks to a car parked to which she had hold on to. Josias, that nearly flipped back due to the fall, got up more angry than ever, looked straight to the careless catechist with a deep wrath and mumbled something in a strange language — almost a curse. This turned into a gossip around town...

One week later, Judith showed up dead on the parish house yard, with a violent bump to the back of the head. Her body was found inside of an hexagonal star deeply engraved on the ground.

To me, this is some heavy voodoo followed by a pagan sacrifice, and worse, I just figured out that this detective came with the objective of saving the sorcery colleague. Probably they are from the same sect!

The sorcerer, after the conversion, brushed his hair and shaved constantly, however after the arrest he got sloppy and went back to the old look, looking more like a tramp. He was held apart from the other prisoners because none of them wanted to be his cell mate for his bad reputation, and we agreed with the poor bastards. What if he puts a curse on the other prisoners?!

When opening the door I realized that Clóvis was awfully focusing his eyes at one of the corners of the prison cell, while the sorcerer was laying down in one of the beds, barefoot, observing a fixed point beyond. However, it looked like both of them were hearing the same whispering; something mystical, bizarre and invisible. The detective entered and faced the sorcerer. I stayed out of the cell.

— Good morning! — greeted the detective, who got no reply — Josias, my name is Clóvis and I am here with the mission of getting you out of this mess, however, I need your help. I came from far away to investigate deeply this murder, but I need your cooperation, do you understand?

The sorcerer was not even a little bit moved with the presence of that man, who was his only chance of freedom. He didn't even blink. While Clóvis asked the questions and talked about the advantages of an open dialogue to clarify some topics of the investigation, Josias seemed inaccessible. The detective started telling emotional and philosophical stories, trying to keep a conversation with the prisoner — without success, though. And time passed by.

After using several arguments, Clóvis remained in silence for a while. After wasting his breath talking about justice, hope, freedom... and he even mentioned the bible, without success! It would be best to shut up anyway.

— You have a daughter, right?

The sorcerer starred at the detective and went from indifferent to frightened, as if the detective had just touched his sore point.

— If your life is meaningless now — he continued —, stay alive for her. Use her as your reason to live.

A whisper. Sufficient to see that the detective was feeling defeated. He got up and waited for the cell to be open by me. As soon as I unlocked it, the sorcerer mumbled:

— Does it make any difference?

Clóvis made a gesture so that I would keep quiet and the sorcerer continued:

— Does it make any difference if I am guilty or innocent? People look at me with fear on their eyes, the friends I had, left me. Everyone act as if they never met me, I am a nobody now. Does it make any difference if I am guilty or innocent? Life sucks. Human beings suck. I was at the top of my happiness and they threw me in the gutter. I had fought for my ideals, I had fought for a dignified life, I changed the way I think and dress. What changed? Nothing! I feel the devil mocking me; I feel the contempt in people's eyes; I lost the sense of life. God has forsaken me, this is what happened. No, I rather accept that I am heading to darkness. Certainly, it must be better than keep living in this unfair world.

— Maybe you are being tested, — Clóvis interrupted him — as Job also was. Do you know the Job's history. The devil doubted of his wisdom and God took away everything that he had: his family, flock and health. Job's faith remained unshaken; and the devil lost the bet. What you are going through doesn't come close to the suffering of that Job went through.

— He was his favored! — he replied — What about me? Who am I before God?

— Another son, as many others, however that insists in feeling worst than Job and the rest of the world. This is what people do. Any abnormality that takes place quickly is transformed into a storm.

— You say this because you are not in my shoes! I live by myself and I do not have an alibi to prove I was home on the day of the murder. Innocent or not, I feel like a looser, and this is embarrassing. No one will offer to help you if you have no longer a reason to live.

— Then, pretend that you are dead already and live on behalf of others! Your daughter needs help. Will you be this coward and abandon her lost in this?

— She has a church that may take good care of her.

— But she doesn't have you! Or do you think that you may be easily replaced as this?

The sorcerer acted in disdain and went back on starring at the floor. Clóvis, again, look defeated.

Good they finally shut up; to me they were talking Greek. The detective, after that instant of silence, looked again to the corner.

— On the day of your accident with the catechist, you mumbled something in another language. May you translate what you said?

— "You have not heard the last of this!", but in an African dialect. It was a moment of weakness, further, of rage! That priest should not have acted in that way. Otherwise, no one would have planned this crime and I wouldn't be in this situation. It is coming to him and no one will save his soul. Sometimes I feel that this day is near.

— There are people that act as they please, reach the extreme without realizing how ridiculous they are being, it is normal, including for priests. You cannot blame him for being here.

— Who do I blame?

— Do you have any opinion on who may have killed Judith?

— No. I barely knew her. She never hurt anyone, and I had never wished for her death, much less for that incident. I have no idea who killed her.

— What about you, do you have enemies?

— I am not what people say around. — he snapped.

Clóvis kept quiet and with his eyes open, focusing on something. Minutes later, he thanked for the cooperation and left. O immediately locked the cell, without looking inside.

— Odd — said the detective outside the police station. — Very odd indeed!

— What is odd?

— A simple man. He must not know a lot about African dialects nor about sorcery.

— Are you inferring that he doesn't know another language?

— Exactly.

— Are you telling me he was never a true sorcerer?

— Are there any true sorcerers?

— Well, then, what do you think it is "very odd"?

— I could not unveil anything.

— Unveil what?!

— Never mind. I am just thinking out loud. — he said lost — We need to visit the parish house.

We got into my Variant and went. The detective got down and concluded no one was there, once the windows and doors were closed.

— Is Tuesday the day to visit people at the rural areas? — I asked myself — However, it is likely that one of these catechists is around here.

— Do you know where Judith's sister lives at?

— At Mundo Velho. Why?

— Let's go there.

— Don't you want to see if there are any of the catechists in the church?

— We will come back here later.

Mundo Velho is a place with houses and farms far from each other. It is so vast that it was divided in two, Mundo Velho de Cima and Mundo Velho de Baixo. The low vegetation creates a typical savanna landscape. Besides being arid, it is a mountain region, without rivers or forests. In short, there are only dust, , cattle grids and streamlets.

— How did you know that Judith had a sister?

— The owner of the hotel told me.

I kept quiet. At this point he must know already her age, what she likes to eat, her zodiac, if she is married, single or widower and even the way to her home.

The detective began looking at the Variant: this is what I was afraid of. The entire panel dusty and the tape deck without the knobs called the attention immediately. However, he kept a smile that highlighted his cheeks.

— A tape deck! — he joyfully exclaimed — It has been a while since I saw one of this in a car!

People from big cities are like that: they enjoy the last generation equipment and then come laughing of our things.

— Does it work?

I turned it on without saying a word. I just had to turn the pin where before existed the knob that my youngest son, Gabriel, had swallowed with maize.— A relic, isn't it?! — he exclaimed.

I bought the tape from some street seller for a couple of bucks that I had in my pockets. He was joking me, for sure. Clóvis boosted the volume. It reproduced with some interference a song by the Beatles: "While My Guitar Gently Weeps". This is my favorite, because of the guitar weeping.

After a while, Clóvis began to make some notes in a black book.

— What the hell are you doing? — I asked.

— I am writing a book.

— Book?

I tried to ignore the fact observing the mist that was still there, what kept the weather looking fresh, but I was already drenched in sweat and troubled with the hangover keeping my mouth always dry.

After seven or eight farm gates, we got to Judith's sister home, a plain and isolated location. The house was kind of cute; it was only missing some maintenance on the roof. To me, the most important thing was the tangerine plantation — those fruits eased my indisposition.

I got off the car and went straight to the plantation, while Clóvis clapped his hands together until someone showed up. A skinny lady with her face wrinkled by the actions of time, looked at him with surprise through the window, trying to acknowledge the visitor. I noticed she was scared.

— Miss Ruth, I am here at the plantation picking up some tangerine!

— Isaías! — grumbled in relieve. — Is that you?

Miss Ruth was still traumatized by her sister's death. She practically lives alone in the middle of nowhere and spend all time taking care of her property. It is understandable someone panicking in face of strangers coming close, because she, as well as the rest of folks in Rio Vermelho, believes that the sorcerer had accomplices to kill and take Judith's body to the back of the parish house. Accomplices that have not been found yet.

Miss Ruth, friendly, invited us in. I picked up some tangerines and got in.

In the kitchen a big table dominated the center of the room. We sat down, and Clóvis, as usual, started looking to the corners and saying that crap about what he was there to investigate, and all. After, they talked a little about how cold it was during the mornings and the heat in the afternoons, well, that chitchat to get intimate to the poor lady. That was when he popped the fundamental question:

— Do you have any enemy, for any reason, that may have committed such cruelty?

— Only the sorcerer! — She replied certain — That bastard walked around with the bible in his hands, but deep down he was just a false religious man! He tricked a lot of simple folks, making them to convert to that church. I even suspect that the shepherd himself that helped him kill my sister! I don't know if you noticed the look of wizard he has. One time...

Miss Ruth started babbling about the shepherd. I forgot to tell, Her mouth runs a mile a minute. Old people are like that.

— Any boyfriends?

— Judith had her last boyfriend a couple of years back — she answered.

— Did they broke up?

— He went to the United Stated and stayed there.

— Does he keep contact?

— Only with his family.

Miss Ruth looked like she did not want to talk about it and lowered gradually her voice, while the detective contemplated the huge table. Although seeing that his restless eyes were fixed at the central portion of that table, I had the impression that it wasn't the table he was contemplating. It looked like he was trying to hear something, or that he was actually hearing it... it was odd.

— I miss my sister a lot — cried Miss Ruth, changing the subject — She used to help me a lot, actually, she helped us all. She was always at the mass, helped in the distribution of food, she taught at catechism, help in organizing the asylum...

Clóvis comforted her so that she would not cry. Miss Ruth even got better, but kept on going.

— Next Sunday it would be Judith's birthday. She was twelve years younger than I. After I was born, my mother had a complication in her uterus and she could only get pregnant again with a treatment, and she had Judith. Since her pregnancy was a high-risk pregnancy, the doctor prohibited her of having more children.

While she kept on telling stories, from time to time Clóvis looked around, focusing on other things until he was convinced that his trip to Mundo Velho was a waste of time.

— Well, Miss Ruth, we are leaving — he said, carelessness — We need to look at Judith's home. Do you have the keys with you?

— I have it with me, but you may take it. Later, if it is not too much trouble, you may leave the keys with Tobias, my godson, and ask him to get someone to clean the house, it must be all dusty. Isaías knows him.

— We will only take a look at it with respect to her private life, ok?

— Ok, feel free to do so, and that justice is made! — concluded Miss Ruth, excited with the detective's presence.

She gave a keychain to Clóvis while I was already leaving. My hurry was such, that I even forgot to throw away the tangerine peel on the table.

In our way back to the city, the detective made no other notes and kept on focused on what Judith's sister had just reported.

— Have you met Judith's former boyfriend?

— Samuel? Yes, I have. His parents live in the city of Paulista. He was a quiet guy, well-dressed, even being a carpenter and helping his father to work the land. He went to the United Stated and stayed there.

— Weird, isn't it?

— No. He went away with a bunch of crazy guys with the intention of getting rich washing dishes in restaurants. This was more than two years ago and a lot has changed since then. What is weird about it?

— Details are important — he said.

Once again I felt the urge of throwing him out of the car, however it is best to let it go, I don't want to take the chance of him reading my mind again. Clóvis smiled with mystery.

We got back to Rio Vermelho. I left the car downtown and went home. It was lunch time.

I had lunch and took a nap. I was tired and, after a heavy meal, it would be normal to pass out on the sofa, wouldn't it?

I woke up with the telephone ringing — It was Clóvis calling me to work. My lunch hour has passed by and no one woke me up in time. Since I discuss at home because no one cooperates with me, everything is like I was some ignorant in the family!

My oldest son, Matheus, for example, is already seventeen, he knows damm well the time I go to work, and the only thing he knows how to do is playing videogames. Does this pay off? As older he gets more irresponsible he is.

I washed my face and ran down to meet with the detective. Let us continue the investigation that, certainly, will come to nothing. I really think that the killer is the sorcerer anyway.

Clóvis got into the car with a inexpressive smile and said "What's up?!", like a teenager. I hate slangs, therefore I remained in silence and pick up the road without starting a conversation.

A bull skull adorns the center of the gate of Moisés' home. The skull, varnished, have long horns, in a curled shape and tied up tightly with some wire. People say it keeps away evil-eyes, and Moisés is full with superstition. Superstition and dogs. I have never seen someone with so much liking of dogs.

Moisés's son showed up and ordered the mastiffs to go inside. He speaks all possible dirty words, I'd rather be deaf.

His name is Abel. With long and damaged hair, weird clothing, lazy and a hustler. Despite of this, he had an athletic shape, broad shoulders and loved to walk around without a shirt on to show off his hairy chest. He has been in and out of jail several times for public disorder.

That demonstration, certainly, was to demonstrate he was not afraid of us; but as soon as he locked the dogs, I got off the car and demonstrated my superiority.

— Good afternoon, we are looking for Moisés — said Clóvis.

— What for? — he replied stupidly.

— We are investigating Judith's murder, and we want to know about Samuel.

— Samuel is in the united States.

— We know! — said Clóvis, in a more aggressive tone — We are looking for Moisés and not Samuel. Do you get it?!

For a minute they stared each other.

— He is working in the back.

We got in through the garage that took to a messy carpentry where everything was half done. There were closets, wardrobes, tables, chairs and the air was filled with a smell of chopped wood.

We saw, then, on a corner, Moisés working in a chair so slowly that it was easy to see that his thoughts were far from there.

— Good afternoon, Moisés!

— Good afternoon.

— My name is Clóvis, and we are here to ask you some questions. This is Isaías. Do you know him?

— Who doesn't? — he exclaimed roughly — Questions about what?

— About your son that went to the United States. Nice chairs, uh? — said, Clóvis, trying to be friendly with the poorly finished work of the carpenter.

— Thank you. Did anything happened to my son?

— No! We just want to know how his relationship with Judith was and why they broke up.

— Ah, Judith! I got thinking they would get married, but my son decided to go abroad and... well, things ended up.

— They used to fight a lot? — asked Clóvis, observing the upper portion of a unfinished wardrobe.

— No.

— Samuel was jealous?

— No.

— Did he had low self-esteem?

— No.

— do you know about any fight between them?

— No, they got along just fine.

— Are you sure?

— Yes!

After a moment of silence, Clóvis looked to Moisés and then to a table far ahead.

— Why, exactly, he went so far away? — questioned the detective.

— To have a better financial status. As everyone does!

— You are hiding something — said the detective.

— What do you mean?! — grumbled the old man.

— Samuel had no financial problems. He sold one of his two cars to live on this money the first months, while he looked for jobs in the United States; he conveyed the house he had bought to you, who gets the rent paid; there is profit from the sale of cheese from his farm and, further, you are the only carpenters in the region. Therefore, with a financial situation stable as this, I affirm that this was not the reason why Samuel emigrated. How do you explain that from the group that went to the United States, he is the only one that never came back to visit his family? He doesn't miss you? Why he doesn't come back?

— This doesn't concern you! — the old man raised his voice, furious as a bull that had just seen a piece of red cloth — My son has nothing to do with Judith's death!

— That is true, but I never said that your son had anything to do with the murder.

Clóvis got up and went closer to see the table.

— You need to sand a little bit of this table's foot, it is unbalanced.

The old man, restless, ended up sitting and ignoring the notes from the detective. He was trembling. The detective walked seriously up to the back of the chair in which Moisés had just sat on.

— Judith had a lover — said Clóvis, with certainty — Your son found out, broke up and decided to travel far away. He was ashamed with this and afraid of someone finding out and spreading it around the town. This would be a disaster to the family's moral, right?

Moisés was petrified.

— How do you know? — questioned, confessing everything.

— What we have to find out now, then, is who was Judith's lover?

— But, how did you found out about this!? — insisted Moisés, pale. He seemed to have kept this secrete under lock and key and the fact had been revealed as if he had told it himself.

— Let us say that an angel mentioned something relevant and I understood the message — he replied laughing.

— Angel! — exclaimed the old man — What kind of joke is this?

— This is not important; we need to talk to Judith's lover to see if they kept on seeing each other even after your son had left, and if there is any connection with the crime.

— I don't know who he is!

— I know perfectly well that you do not know who he is, however I believe you have some suspicions, right? I need some suggestions, and I promise I won't come back here... other than to buy this beautiful living room set, of course!

I got a little intrigued, scared and curious with the investigation methods of this detective. If Clóvis got here in Rio Vermelho less than twenty four hours ago and no one in the city knew about this case, how did he get to these conclusions? And how did he know that there was a lover? How did he know Moises didn't know who the lover was? What about this story of angels? Everything got me confused.

— Any problems, father? — questioned Abel, showing up all of a sudden with a pitchfork in his hands. I had just remembered him and he appears. I got up and put my hands on my waist, near the revolver.

— We are leaving. — replied Clóvis — There is no problem, Abel. You may rest easy.

— Wait! — I ordered — We still have to know who was Judith's lover!

Father and son faced each other terrified; both stopped breathing. Abel was the lover. His look denounced it!

— do you know what I am talking about, Abel? — I asked, but Moisés' son was paralyzed.

— Let's go, Isaías, we got enough.

Clóvis took me by the arms and walked me out of the house without even saying goodbye.

— Why didn't we cornered them and make them confess who was hiding around with Judith? I bet it was Abel, I mean, I am sure it was him!

— No matter who it was, they don't know – answered Clóvis already refuting my theory – we will get some evidences in her house, then we come back with arguments.

The narrow alley where Judith used to live in is a way out from the square that connects to another parallel street and up from the street tangent to the church. It is so narrow that only one car blocks out the traffic. And it is the only house in this alley, with the only neighbors being the back of the houses on the main street. From there you could see a part of the church square and the crown of the palm trees above the roof tops; further ahead, it could be seen a store and part of the street where the city commerce extends to; and right on the corner, the speed bump that, of so tall, is destroying the cars in town. I parked in front of the house. If anyone wished to drive by that street he would have to go around the block. I am on duty.

Clóvis took the key chain and got right on the first choice which was the entrance key, unlocking and pushing the door open slowly, squeaking the joints as in a terror film. No one had touched anything in the house since the owner's death. The thin dust and the spider webs were proof of this. The strange death of Judith made everyone spooky about going inside this house. The detective observed everything: images of saints, invitations, encyclopedia, bible, paints, vases, plants, flowers and photos with the family and friends. I have never seen so much trash in a single home. And, what is more interesting is that there was no telephone.

— There are people in the world that like everything at the same time, Isaías, and do not get rid of anything, even if they no longer use it, making life more complicated.

— It is a house like any other. Is it possible to know someone just by looking inside their house?

— Yes, it is. The world that the person creates around is exactly how the world exists inside. If the outside is a mess, the soul is the same thing.

For a second, I remembered of my home. It is a mess, yes, needing some restoration, changing the furniture that my children destroyed with time, cleaning the yard full of things Madalena insists on not throwing away because some day she might need it. However, this doesn't mean that my soul is a mess, It means that I don't have time.

— Lack of time is the excuse more often used by the incompetents — he babbled without saying a word. I locked my breathing to lessen the burning feeling rising in my stomach. I was just thinking, it was clear that he was able to capture the ideas going through my mind. I don't know how, but it was clear.

— What do you mean by that? — I asked.

— Putting myself in Judith's shoes, I see that she was a frustrated person. She saw in the material values a way to ease her anguish; feeding the pleasure of having something new to her eyes; but she never realized that nothing lasts forever. Any and all material value pleases a person only while it is new; with time, this person needs to accumulate more and more objects around as a way to renew the self-esteem. This is not a good thinking to a person to have.

— What would be, then?

— To have only the simple and fundamental: the enrichment of the soul, and not of material values.

— Oh, Judith was a catechist and a religious, of the type that would never miss going to the mass on Sundays! During her leisure moments, she kept laughing out loud, the kind of laughter that hurt the ears. It was clear that she had no problems with anyone in this world and that she followed strictly her religion. And you, just by looking at this room of her home, are trying to tell me she had a poor soul?

— Any person can be religious in this world. Someone corrupt, a murderer or a disturbed person, anyone may easily keep visiting a church and walk around with a bible in hand. However, when we observe things around, there is a great probability of clarifying traces of one's personality. She carried a great frustration.

— A life dedicated to the youth! — I replied — She extracted from the bible the teachings that the youth needed for a worthy life, and dignity is something this people ought to have. You call a highly competent catechist frustrated?

— Who is not frustrated in this world?

— I am sure she wasn't.

— Appearances are deceiving. She had a life dedicated to the youth, but also had a secret lover... Do you think she had her conscience clean when she talked about God? Didn't she felt the possibility of finding herself in hell? Or did she ignored her own actions once, despite of that, she considered herself to be a good person? What if God doesn't share the same point of view?

— If she did not get along with her partner, she is right in looking for someone that did! This is not a sin. She wasn't even married. Life must be enjoyed top the fullest because death come to us all and earth will eat us, pall, without pity! This is why sex today has less strings; exactly due to this kind of conscience. This is how things are and it won't change. Besides, hell is something for the ungodly.

— Life is a whiff and hell is a certainty, however, men see it as a fantasy or something that doesn't relates to men. But, actually, we are all going down, believing that there is any rescue from the final judgment.

— God is forgiving! — I said laughing.

He shook his head negatively.

— Don't you think that the life of this poor creature could have been a little bit longer?

— Yeah...! — I said embarrassed — But things are like this. The important thing is that she was happy while she was alive.

— Are you sure she was happy?

— Yes, she was. If you have met her, you would also know it. Each second of her life lived up to the fullest! This is how life should be. And more, why someone would waste her time studying, philosophizing, reading the bible, or any other book for that matter, and leave aside this great world full of surprises? Someday everything ends, and then what?

— Do you really believe that this world has surprises?

— At least for me it does.

— Things were already here much before your imagination could calculate. The only surprise in this world is you.

— This doesn't make any difference, since what is important is my point of view.

— It is exactly your point of view that the devil controls. What if you are being controlled? Have you ever thought of this?

— No. I want distance from the devil! And, I can't find any sense in this theory.

— It is best you know that life can be very ungrateful to those that do not search for this sense.

— What sense?

— The sense in life.

— Then, answer me, what is the sense of life?

He kept thinking for a minute. He knew everything and now he's gone mute. Looked to the ceiling and concluded, as if he was the wisest of all:

— Death.

I looked straight into his eyes and felt the urge to laugh of his weak concept about the sense of life. And I questioned:

— If life is like that, why don't you just shoot yourself in the head?

— I am not talking about suicide — he laughed — but about accepting the truth. We have a great facility of taking things to the extreme. When I talk about accepting death, I am not talking about losing life, but in giving a sense to it. Well, to renounce to the illusory values that this world gives, to look into the deep silence of our souls, the treasury that guarantees our actual and unconditional happiness. This doesn't mean that I want to die.

— Because to me, thinking about dying or being in a deep silence is the same as getting into depression. So that have an idea, it disgusts me when I turn the TV off in my room to sleep and all I can hear is the chirping from crickets in my yard. That makes me feel like going out shooting everything I see! Empty... if you want to know, life is much better when we ignore this kind of discussion.

— Running is the best option. I perfectly understand. But, what did you get with this kind of attitude so far?

— What do you mean?

— I refer to your happiness. The happiness you look so hard for. When will you reach it? When you retire? When you get a better job? In another job? In another city? In a nice car? In another woman? Maybe when you are famous, who knows?

He laughed for a while and continued.

— Isaías, where is your happiness? For how long will you look for it? Will running always be the best option?

— I am not running from anything, I am happy just the way I am, I accept the fact that death exists and I am aware that someday I will be "six feet under"! But, until that day, I will enjoy all moments with my heart still beating. Besides, this so called "treasure that guarantees our true and unconditional happiness", by any chance, pays the bills I have in the butcher shop? You talk like that because you don't have children that eat like hungry tigers. I have debts, family and obligations. Time to keep quiet, honestly, only after I am dead!

Mr. know-it-all opened a smile, shook his head negatively and turned to Judith's bedroom.

"Live life knowing that you are going to die." What a stupid thinking! I will die someday, of course, but I don't want to think about something that will happen in several years from now, when I am old and tired of this world.

The entrance door creaked roughly. I trembled such that I almost fell down on my knees; I leaned on the closet avoiding this mess. A man came in suddenly.

— Hello?! — he greeted us.

— Hello. — I breathed in relief, but actually I wanted to punch him in the nose.

— Are you investigating the murder?

— No! We are looking for a job!

The pain in the ass realized I was not into conversation, he entered Judith's bedroom, got close to the know-it-all and reached out the hand at him.

— Nice to meet you, my name is Tobias, Miss Ruth's Godson.

— Nice to meet you too. Clóvis!

Tobias is a meddler, and must be about thirty two years old. He has the terrible habit of talking and laughing at the same time. Because he has a friendly face, he brags about drawing the attention of many women; he is the priest's chauffeur and thinks he is so important for this. He is wearing sunglasses, always in the fashion and no one ever saw him on a bad hair day. Even being the person that has the most contact with priest Lázaro, he cannot overcome his alcohol addiction. He is drunk in a minute. Not even the priest could get this devil out of him.

The detective ignored the presence of that preppy and fixed the attention in a locked small pastel colored handcrafted chest. He studied the chest in every possible way, even turning it upside down. Then, he got a pen out of his pocket and extracted the pins from the joints with the tip, what released the upper portion of the chest at the opposite side: there was a bunch of letters, postcards and an old big key.

— What does this key open? — asked Clóvis, intrigued by its length.

— It is for the priest's house — replied Tobias. — All catechists have a copy so that, in case the priest goes away on a trip, they continue having access for cleaning, classes, visits and other things. And Judith taught catechism at the parish house.

The know-it all raised his eyebrows, still admiring the size of the key: it had the size of a palm; a relic in extinction.

— Do you think there is any possibility of someone sending anonymous letters threatening her? — Tobias asked.

— No, I am just trying to figure out what Judith was like.

— Based on this old letters?

— The handwriting of a person can give us clues about her personality.

— Personality based on the handwriting? That is impossible!

— Don't you believe in investigations, Tobias?

— To me, investigation and guessing are the same thing.

— Are you suspicious of anyone that may have committed that atrocity, Tobias?

— Yes.

— Of whom?

— The sorcerer. People say he is crazy now, that he doesn't talk to anyone and that already confessed that he has the devil in his body.

— These are just rumors from people that have nothing better to do. He is depressed, that is all, as anyone would be.

— It is a sign that he has a guilty conscience. I would be ok if I were in his shoes.

The detective laughed.

— Do you hate him for killing Judith?

— Of course! Judith was like a sister to me.

Then, Clóvis raised his eyes from the letters, and seriously looked at Tobias.

— What does your mother have to do with this?

— Nothing!

Tobias blushed. The antipathetic smile was changed into a terrifying look in face of the detective's question.

— Are your mother a catholic?

— She has been a while back, however, today she belongs to the same church that the sorcerer went to. My mother is very old and naive. Why do you ask?

— For nothing — mocked detective — Are you feeling ok?

— You scared me with that question.

— Do you have a guilty conscience?

— Obviously not!

Clóvis began staring at the floor from one side to the other and, even with his head down, I noticed the hidden movement of his dark eyes.

— Miss Ruth entrusted us to ask you to get someone to clean this house.

— I already knew, but I needed the keys. A girl already volunteered to clean up as long as I keep her company. She is afraid of being here alone, do you understand?

Clóvis gave a malicious smile.

— I see. But, according to the request by Miss Ruth, you are supposed to clean this house and by the looks of it you want to take advantage of the house, right?

— What do you mean?

— Why didn't you choose someone older?

Tobias was flabbergasted, pale and petrified. Well done! I want to see his antipathetic face saying now that "investigation and guessing are the same thing".

— I will take this chest back to the hotel to read the letters and I will return it later to the same place, ok?

— Fine by me.

We left the house and went to the car, followed by Tobias, who still had a dumb and enigmatic look on his face. Waived and stayed on the small porch observing every movement Clóvis did when he went out.

I got inside the car and was about to ask which would be our next stop in our investigation.

— Isaías, you are dismissed. There are many letters for me to study and, maybe, at night we meet.

— Ok!

This is what I wanted to hear since I woke up. It is better than being in the company of this terrifying detective. So, I gave him a quick goodbye and went towards the police station, because there were several services pending and it would be best to speed up my work before the Chief of Police get back from the trip.

Through the rearview mirror I saw Tobias, who stayed on the porch and still observed the detective leaving the place, when turning the corner on foot towards the church square. Thank God I got rid of both at once.

I speed up a little my service and stayed the rest of the afternoon chatting with David, the prison guard. I couldn't do much without the presence of the Chief of Police and, therefore, I just did my part. I remained like that up to my time to leave.

I stayed home until night and left without giving ears to Madalena. The bar was waiting for me.

Everyone was there: David, Daniel, Norberto, Piaba, José and Betão.

I had no intention to drink, but there is always someone that ask for a glass and fills it up, someone else makes a toast and another one that buys more beer... well, a lot of laughs, a lot of chitchat, shameful stories, jokes, etc. That is where I felt good: I could talk and laugh as much as I wanted. All of this was like therapy to relax my nerves. Why not enjoy the good things life gives us?

— And the detective, Isaías, does he really have a pact with the devil? — asked David, laughing.

— Lower your voice! He is coming.

— Are you afraid of him?

I was about to tell about my day, but I already knew that they were going to mess with me, so I preferred to shut up.

Clóvis arrived and greeted everyone. He ordered a soda, sat with us and told us some jokes. However, it didn't last long and he wanted to leave.

— Don't go, man! — I exclaimed — You are not a child to be in bed. Stay a little longer with us and I will introduce you to some "friends". By the way, are you married?

— No. But as I told you before, I want to solve this mystery this week and leave on Monday at seven in the morning. Sleeping late messes with my concentration. Speaking of which, I have something to tell you that I believe you won't like: Josias will be released.

— What?!

— That is right. Since the investigation was resumed, there is no reason to keep him incarcerated without concrete evidences.

— He had no alibi for the night of the murder...

— Someone that lives alone with a small daughter have problems presenting an alibi, since his only witness cannot acquit him due to her age.

— When does Josias will be released?

— Tomorrow morning, by order of the district attorney.

My good humor melted like cotton candy in the mouth of a child, and my body itched on angry. I looked to the television with the intention of distracting myself, but what I really wanted was to go home.

— I am going to the hotel. I have a lot to do, and tomorrow will be a long day.

— I am leaving too — I grunted — I am not feeling well.

# Wednesday

It is sad to get to work and be obliged to say good morning to the honorable work colleague from a big city that, again, was crouched observing butterflies in the poor improvised yard in front of the police station. This goes without mentioning the dammed district attorney, who freed someone such as the sorcerer. Certainly this will be a stain in his professional records.

— Being grumpy doesn't take you anywhere, Isaias.

— It is just a headache, Clóvis. Are we going to free the sorcerer, now?

— He is already free. David opened the cell and he went straight to see his daughter.

— Nothing new there, this girl is the only family he has.

— Do you know why the wife ran away from her own home?

— Because she was shocked when she learned her man was no longer a sorcerer and started to visit a church for evangelicals. She did not take the girl because she could not take care of her alone.

Clóvis rose from the garden with sadness in his face and looked to the mountains still with some mist around it. Sighted deeply and kept thinking about how he would manage another day of investigation.

— The place where Judith's body was at...

— There is nothing there — I interrupted, knowing already what he was going to ask — The rain erased all marks, the candles were removed, and the priest already restored the gate.

— Even so, I need to see the crime scene.

We passed through the asylum and I saw my father at a garden separated from the street only by a barbed wire fence. He was watering it, peaceful, a small tomato plantation. A hummingbird flew next to the water stream to take its morning bath. The old man just watched the little bird enjoying its bath; however, when he saw me driving by, his face changed completely. I am not afraid of an angry face.

The parish house is in front of the church square and, on the other side, we could see the alley of Judith's house. The door was closed, but an elderly catechist that was nearby realized our intention and came to us.

— Are you the detective?

— My name is Clóvis, nice to meet you. I need to take a look at the yard. Is the priest in?

— No. He has been very busy in the last weeks and must have gone to some school in our rural area; I do not know when he comes back, but I have the keys for the door.

The catechist put her hands into the pocket of her flowered dress and got a huge key, similar to that Judith kept in her little chest, and opened the door as if she was making a great contribution to the human kind. We entered.

Immediately, we could see the stairs that take to the top floor and the wooden handrails, well preserved and engraved in a simple manner. The floor in wooden boards; upstairs there was the living room, private library and the priest's bedroom.

Clóvis observed in detail every corner of the room. But the catechist couldn't keep quiet.

— Priest Lázaro was very pleased to hear about the new investigation about the murder. He knows a lot about these matters. He believes in the possibility of other people helping to arrange that scenery with the intention of blaming the poor Josias.

— I also think this way — revealed the detective — May we go to the yard?

The catechist smiled, accompanied us to the back door.

At the yard there were some orange, guava and acerola trees. It was an ordinary yard, in a size as of any other house. The only difference is that it has a good maintenance, because there is always someone willing to hoe, prune and clean. A thick cement stairway with long steps lead up to the middle of the yard. The body was between the gate with access to the street below and the last step; a little bit more to the right, as if the body, the gate and the last step of the stair formed a triangle. The walls were high, but you still could see part of Elias' butcher house, right in front of the wooden gate, with the intention of facilitating the access for cleaning.

There wasn't any other marks of the satanic tragedy. Only a muddy land, filled with footprints from cops and curious people.

We went up to the last step, and Clóvis kept on contemplating the mud.

— Judith's body was laying here — I pointed out.

— Did you notice the size of the footprints?

— No. One of them stepped exactly where you are now and left here a mud footprint that spread with the rain drops. This is as far as he went. There were no traces outside the stairway, no one got close to the house; they only left the body in the middle of a ritual and left.

— Why would one of the murderers step here?

— Certainly to perform the evil ritual that took poor Judith to meet her maker, for better, or worse... I don't know.

Clóvis laughed and went down the yard, stepping in the mud as if that didn't disturb him. Observed the floor, the walls, the sky, the new gate, walked around in circles, and nothing.

— Who reformed the gate?

— Moisés, the only carpenter in town.

— Who took the pictures of the crime scene?

— I did. Why?

— They were poorly taken.

— I was trembling a little bit. Murders like this one are not part of my daily work, in particular when it involves voodoo.

— It makes sense — he whispered laughing — Where is the old gate?

— I don't know. Besides, it was just a forced gate. What difference does this make?

— Details are important.

I even pulled a face. Honestly, I cannot believe this man is a professional in investigations.

— What about the letters in Judith's little chest — I questioned — Did you find anything?

— Yes, and it is very interesting.

He fished in his pocket a piece of paper and handed it out to me. He said that it was interesting, but, in my opinion, it was ridiculous: "Today?". This was the only message written in that dirty little piece of paper.

He takes back to the hotel a bunch of letters and comes back with a dirty piece of paper with an absurd sentence!

— What does this has to do with anything? — I questioned.

— Did you notice the condition of this paper?

— Yes, it is dirty.

— It is not any dirt. These are blood stains.

I paid attention now: he was right. It is some heavy voodoo and we cannot touch these things. I returned it to him immediately.

— Don't worry, Isaías, it is only a piece of paper, nothing more.

— It is a spell! And you walk around with it in your pocket.

He laughed showing all of his teeth. I hate people mocking me.

— Let's go — he said.

Then, the detective crossed the yard, put his foot on the first step of the thick cement stairway and felt his shoes filled with mud. Stopped and kept thinking for a minute. He even twisted his mouth to exaggerate his thoughts. It wouldn't be something he would do, to continue going up the stairs with the shoes dirty. It wasn't his style.

To me it was stupid when he took off his shoes and went up the stairs wearing only his socks, so that the priest's house would not get dirty. I felt life laughing, but didn't.

The catechist was waiting for us at the door that takes us to the yard. She was biting her nails and obviously anxious to see if we had found out anything. Obviously she wanted something to tell her friends. The virus so called "gossip" ran through her veins. The biggest evidence of her addition is that she didn't even realized that the detective had his shoes in hands.

— So? — she questioned us, with her eyes open wide.

— There are no traces at all.

There were no clues in the crime scene, of course. No wonder. He got here two weeks after the murder! What did he expect?

We left the house and stopped in the sidewalk, with our backs turned to the parish house and facing the church square. Clóvis sat down, cleaned a little bit his socks and put his shoes back on. He demonstrated no embarrassment.

In the sky, there were some clear but huge clouds; the morning sun was getting stronger, indicating it was going to be a hot afternoon. The white pigeon flew over the square from one side to the other, and after another boring flight, went back to the nest, in a hole in one of the palm trees.

Clóvis smiled and whispered; his perfect teeth looked like keys on a piano, so white they were. I couldn't see the fun he saw in this!

— Do you want to see the street on the back? — I questioned.

— No. Elias already showed me on Monday night, do you remember?

— Did he told you that the traces ended up close to the curb?

— Yes, he did. Probably, the murderers used a car and parked it in front of the gate, facilitating the transport of the body and making easy to escape quickly. What about we visit your mother?

— She is also a suspect?!

— No! — the piano mouth laughed — She is hospitalized and you owe her a visit, right?

— Yes.

— So...

The hospital was just around the corner, but I took the car anyway.

Miss Marta, my mother, was in a deep sleep, more dead than alive. It is sad to think how hard she worked and never got anything.

She was a woman like any other. She never missed a cooking show, always asking who was dating who, who was pregnant, who had a fight with whom, who was feeling ill, who was right, who was wrong, who died, what will happen in the soup opera the next day, well, she was interested in the life of everyone, but her own. She loved walking around with her nose up just because her house was in the main street where the best store in the city was, which owner was her husband. For years, my dad's store had been the most important in the region.

But time went by, competition increased and his kingdom ended; this is normal to those not interested in innovating.

And, one of the biggest problems my mother had was that she smoked too much.

One time, when I was a teenager, I asked her to quit smoking, and she replied: "Go to hell!". She would had hit me, but I ran out of the house. I hate cigarettes and, also, smokers.

Those that sow the wind, shall reap the whirlwind. The wind being the cigarette that pleased so much, as an accessory to show who is classy; the whirlwind being the cancer, that from a wind turned into a whirlwind; that from a baby turned into a dragon; and that from erosion turned into a crater. Result of the little pleasures that she had had throughout her life. What else do I have to do here? Ok she is my mother, but she is going away. Life goes on and she already ran her course.

— Miss Marta made a miracle — the piano mouth interrupted me, at the door without me seeing him. — A miracle of God. To this miracle she gave her soul. This soul was granted two pathways. This miracle is you. This soul is your own conscience, and now you just need to know which path did you choose.

— It is not my path that is in discussion, but her path.

— I agree. However, it is advisable to look into the mirror before coming with this "Those that sow the wind, shall reap the whirlwind" than doing it for the life of others, because we are not in anyone else's shoes to understand how they feel or think.

Suddenly I felt the butterflies in my stomach. How did he know I was thinking that?

— If you are so smart, do you happen to know whether she is going to hell or heaven?

— I cannot judge — he replied in a stroke.

I disdained and shook my head negatively. It was the most ridiculous thing I ever heard; but one word kept going through my mind as if it were the true answer, and he wasn't talking about my mother. Obviously the path chosen by her was the path of the ill-fated.

— Do not think this way, Isaías, this will be bad to you, only.

— Which... which... which is the next step in our investigation!? — I questioned, trying to change the subject.

— I have to think. Things are much more confused than I expected.

He sat on a chair a little far away and got the piece of paper stained with blood.

"Today?".

Would it be possible, then, that she was aware that her life was coming to an end and that she would be given to the devil right on the parish house yard? Well, if this paper was in the chest of old letters, it is because she read it and put it away. She was aware of the day in which the horrifying rite would take place and agreed to walk up to the parish house yard. They had no trouble in carrying her, because she went free and willing! It would be impossible to find traces of blood through the streets or sidewalks, once the deadly stroke was given inside that yard, and the body stayed there.

— Let's lunch, — he said, contemplative — and then we will go to the shepherd's house.

— An unexpected visit may surprise him a lot, right? And if he pulls a face like Moisés did...

— I do not want to see you arresting anyone without concrete evidences, do you understand?

— Ok! But what about the paper stained in blood, are you going to show it to him?

— Yes.

Great! Now fire will burn!

I will have a quick lunch, will clean my revolver and bring more ammo. Today we will find the true identity of the murderer and lock away again the sorcerer, his accomplice.

I forced myself to eat.

I was so anxious that I just couldn't keep quiet. I was clapping my hands, rubbing it and punching the wall. I forgot to inspect the revolver — I was too much in a hurry. Clóvis also had finished his lunch. However, he preferred to wait a little longer at the police station; he did not wanted to catch anyone during the meal which, for him, was a sacred moment. I started biting my nails. We left at 01:00 p.m. directly to Rafael shepherd's house.

Miss Ruth, Judith's sister, was right. This shepherd and Josias are together in this. When Josias was arrested, Rafael turned his back on him so that no suspicion is raised. Why, then, he never went to visit the sorcerer in jail?

I couldn't wait to see the look on that mater of puppets' face with our unexpected visit.

I pushed the doorbell of the modest house which had a much better garden than the police station in front. The shepherd came out with an antipathetic smile on his face that reminded me the smile of the "piano mouth" right to my side, calm as a millpond.

— Good afternoon, Friends! — greeted the shepherd Rafael. — It is like I knew you were coming. Why did you take so long?

Rafael is a cynic and was already ready for the worst. He knew we would come, sooner or later, that is why he was prepared.

— Clóvis, show him the piece of paper! — I ordered, and both stared at me. The detective had a look of disapproval in his face and the shepherd was surprised.

Clóvis took out of his pocket and showed him the piece of paper stained with blood while he introduced himself. The shepherd read and observed the back without anything written, however, he got more interested in knowing who was the detective and his functions. Nothing happened and I was isolated from the conversation.

— Were you transferred here or is this temporary?

— My mission is a little more complex of what one can imagine, but for now, it is resumed in finding out who are the murderers. As soon as the case is solved, I will travel somewhere else.

— Without destination? — questioned the shepherd.

— Maybe.

Rafael invited us in.

Both sat down as a couple of ladies would do, sitting up straight. I like to feel comfortable. Literally, I threw myself in the impeccable sofa in the living room that looked like a piece of furniture taken from a soup opera, so fancy it was.

A girl of approximately seven years old, with a light brown skin and brown hair, showed up running from a hallway that probably takes to the bedrooms. The shepherd asked her to go to the kitchen and bring us something to drink. She agreed with a smile, said hello to me and Clóvis and went away. I recognized the girl: she was the sorcerer's daughter.

— This paper — mentioned the shepherd — what does it mean?

— Do you recognize the handwriting?

— Are you suspecting that Josias planned that crime and that, in advance, informed his victim?

— Do you recognize the handwriting? — insisted the detective.

— The message is so short that anyone could easily modify the handwriting and be free from any suspicion.

Clóvis accepted the shepherd's hypothesis and explained from where he had taken that piece of paper stained with blood.

— I am more than sure of the innocence of brother Josias. That incident with Judith made him angry, but I talked a lot to him; I told him that God only walks side by side with the righteous. Even the way a person walks requires a due composure. One that closes the eyes or walks backwards is being careless, giving chances to unforeseen risks. Things could be worse and he knows well about it. I asked him to never again raise his finger to do his prophecies; this only brings him problems. I talked about the word of God and he is much better now.

— Josias has a lot of friends? — asked the detective.

— We are all brothers.

— Even in the darkest times?

Clóvis stared at the shepherd, who realized immediately the implication behind the question. He had not visited the sorcerer.

— I haven't had the time.

— Does he still do sorcery? — I stared at him.

— What do you know about this? — he said laughing.

— Let's assume it is an ambush. — interrupted Clóvis — Who would be capable of harming Josias in such a brutal way?

— There is another investigation about Josias ex-wife. They found out that she was associated to someone with a police record.

— Did you know about this investigation, Isaías? — asked Clóvis.

I shook my head negatively.

— We will go to the forum. I want to know everything that is going on.

— It is a waste of time. — said the shepherd — The district attorney traveled this morning and doesn't have a date scheduled for his return.

Clóvis felt really uncomfortable with the facility in which the shepherd developed his report, as if he were always one step ahead of him.

— Shepherd Rafael, thank you for your cooperation and sorry for the disturbance.

— No problem! You are welcome anytime.

— Ok! — concluded Clóvis.

The shepherd is a good speaker. However, it is evident that this shepherd and his scum are preparing another scam: lock away people that has nothing to do with the case so that they get away with it, acquitting the sorcerer.

Clóvis was upset, no wonder: no one informed him about this other investigation in which the suspect was the new lover of t he sorcerer's ex-wife. Once he was a respected investigator, and his services have been required and all, he should, then, have been informed of everything going on and not going through the humiliation of being informed by the interested party. Rafael knew more than he did and, to tell the truth, found it a little amusing.

We got into my Variant.

— Where to, now, detective?

— To the forum.

The forum was open and the employees in their daily routines. The notary stopped us at the hall and examined the detective from head to toe.

— May I help you?

— I need to talk to the district attorney.

— The district attorney is out of town.

Clóvis looked to the notary with disapproval.

— I need to find a way to talk to the district attorney, do you understand?

— Oh! You want a telephone number in which you may reach him.

— Correct.

— That is not possible.

— Why?

— Because he did not give us one.

— How can I know about the whereabouts of Josias' ex-wife?

— With me! — meddled Baltazar, the attorney.

A chubby guy, with his hair brushed to the side, with a round face, always in suit and tie. Baltazar is full of himself. His black suitcase follows him wherever he goes. I am sure that there is nothing interesting inside it, other than things for vain people that always talk gesticulating and that keeps a antipathetic smile, enhancing his huge cheeks. It is alright that he is a snob, but the worst thing is to know that he and the sorcerer belong to the same church.

Of course the shepherd called him telling where we would be.

— I am Baltazar, nice to meet you, and you must be the detective Clóvis. Your doings as investigator are amazing. Further, yesterday on the television it was exhibited the strategy you used to find and deactivate the explosive prepared by the so-called iconoclast. Is it true that you jumped out of an airplane with no parachutes?

— Do not believe in everything they show on the television, Baltazar.

Clóvis was serious, and the attorney understood that the presence of the detective was extremely professional.

— Let's go to my office? — he invited us.

The attorney's office was right outside the forum. The MDF desk customized to the fat attorney already had two chairs waiting for us.

Clóvis went straight to the point.

— Do you know the whereabouts of Josias' ex-wife, Baltazar?

— Yes, I do. She is living at Serro, a city not very far from here. As soon as we discovered the address, I and the shepherd Rafael went there. We asked a private detective to spy on her, on her lover, and what they were doing on the day of the murder.

— What did you find out?

— She was at home, but he wasn't.

— Why do you suspect of him?

— Because he has no alibi. He pleads he went camping with his friends for the weekend.

— He left his wife home to camp with a bunch o friends?

— They are addicted, and this is not something she does. That is why she would have stayed home.

— Does the Chief of Police or the district attorney know what you are doing?

— Not yet. But we are going to tell them as soon as they arrive.

— What else do you know about this suspect?

— His name is Ezequiel. He has a long criminal record. He is an addicted since he was a teenager; he was put into a rehab clinic, but It showed no results. From a family with good background to a criminal. His friends are a bunch of hustlers and his former-lovers pleaded that he is a jealous and violent person. There is a rumor that he already had tried to kill a person just because he pulled a move over the women he was with. He couldn't kill him, but beat him up until he was unconscious.

— You are not insinuating that...

— We found out, further, that Josias' ex-wife was sorry to have chosen Ezequiel and intended to reconcile with Josias, but his current lover would never accept this loss. To him, a woman leaving him would add a stain to his reputation. In this world, pride always talks louder.

— I agree — said the detective.

— So, as soon as he heard about the incident with Josias, he probably planned the murder and came with his gang to exterminate poor Judith, leaving, as signature, the star marked and the candles around her body. It was clear that Josias would be incriminated. Consequently, the woman couldn't return here.

— Do you really believe in this hypothesis?

— Well... it is a hypothesis.

— The door at Judith's house was not forced. Do you think she would welcome, late at night, a bunch of madmen and put on some perfume before being murdered? How do you explain this?

— These are only assumptions.

— Where were you on the night of the murder?

— I was working.

— Up to what time?

— I had just arrived from a long trip and stopped a little bit at the office. I don't mind working at night, I usually sleep little.

— You didn't see anything suspicious on the streets?

— No. Actually my route is different, I usually do not go through the church square.

— By any chance do you have a report of the investigation on Ezequiel?

— No, but as soon as I get it I will gladly give it to you.

We said goodbye and left the office in absolute silence. In particular Clóvis, who no longer showed his piano mouth and walked a little bit with his head down. Finally, the detective opted for visiting Josias, the sorcerer.

Banana trees filled the front of the lot. There was only a gap in the middle of the land where you could get inside the sorcerer's home. The gate was made by wood and barbed wire, the house, deeper down, was painted in a dirty white. Time ruined not only the paint, but also several parts of the walls, that needed urgently some repair, however the poor man is so busy with his religion that he can't see anything else.

Clóvis clapped his hands and opened the improvised gate. The house door was open and a girl with a curious and frightened eyes showed up. She was the sorcerer's daughter.

— Is Josias home? — he asked.

— Yes, he is.

— Could you call him, please?

— Yes, sir.

The girl went in and Clóvis turned to me.

— I have seen this girl before.

— Her name is Ester — I explained — She was at the shepherd Rafael's house and must have came back to make company to her father.

— Interesting.

The detective went towards the flowers, crouched and contemplated a white rose. The impression was that he had been recently born and everything in this world was new to his eyes. He even forget his obligations.

— May I help you?! — roared the sorcerer, not welcoming us.

— We need to talk.

I looked back, but Clóvis didn't care about the sorcerer's presence. Observe roses should be more interesting to him.

— Talk about what?

— We came to tell you that you must not leave town for as long as this crime is not solved, do you understand?

— I already know this. David, the prison guard, informed about the procedures I must follow. Is that all?

Ester appeared at the door and found it funny for a man to be crouched down looking at a flower. Gradually, started smiling, while Josias stared at me, without blinking.

— Is there anything else I must do?

— No.

— What are you here for, then?

— We came to apologize — said Clóvis, crouched. — Our work is based on facts. All facts led us to you, but since there is no concrete evidences, you are free, but under custody.

I felt my body burn and shiver at the same time. This detective brought me here to apologize? Who in this world was born to apologize? Furthermore to this sorcerer, who is incapable of keeping his wife inside the house and that changes religion believing that this improves one's life or that it changes the point of view of other people towards him. He never apologized to Judith, when he fell when bumped into her... He will never forgive his ex-wife for abandoning him, leaving a daughter for him to raise alone. That is, he will never forgive anyone in his life. Why should I apologize to him? If he was arrested it is because God intended so, and I have nothing to do with this!

— Apologize? — questioned Josias mocking. — After they threw me in that gutter and treated me like I was some animal, you are here to apologize? Honestly, I don't believe you.

— You are still a suspect, do not forget it! — I remembered him.

— I will not forget anything you did to me!

— Is that a threat?

— I have my rights and I will sue you!

— Do whatever you want with your life! — I replied in the same tone.

Clóvis started whispering something in the garden and Josias deviated his attention to him. I also found his attitude a little bit odd.

— Talking to flowers, detective?

— Kind of.

He got up without difficulties, as a child that doesn't feel the weight of the body and approximated.

— I hope that, despite the sorrow, you understand that we work on behalf of the public safety and we make mistakes as any human being in this world. But, this doesn't mean that you are no longer a suspect.

— Is this regret? — he asked mad — You realized you were wrong and now you regret? What about my moral? When will I get it back?

— You should be grateful for not being in jail — answered Clóvis. — Your freedom is already a big step to anyone wanting to fight for a moral loss.

The sorcerer pulled a face.

It could only be heard the whisper of the banana trees' leafs, caused by the mild wind; No one had anything else to say. So, we gave our goodbye and left.

I got inside the car, closed my eyes and gave a deep sigh. I actually wanted to send the detective to hell for that recent crap, but a flower scent impregnated my nostrils. I thought it was just my imagination, but as I opened my eyes, I realized that the fact was real — there was a white rose right in front of my nose.

— Thank you, sir, for freeing my daddy — said Ester, handing me the flower.

The smell was getting stronger, and I had no other option than accepting the rose and thanking with a half-hearted smile. After giving me the rose she went back to the house smiling at Clóvis.

— Good girl — he said. — I hope her angel never leaves her.

I threw the rose on his lap. It was the only place where I could leave it, the panel was always dusty...

At principle, I thought that Clóvis was the responsible for the bullshit of the girl bringing me a flower, but there was no way to accuse him; both not even got the chance to talk. However, he was so excited that it looked like he had started it; may, telepathy... it is best not to think about it.

— I am not going to the hotel, Isaias. I need to know what the news are talking about all of this. You are released for today.

— News? So, did you really jump out of an airplane with no parachutes?

— Do you watch television?

— Yes. But I turn it on just to watch soccer matches and police news. Soccer is for fun and the news are to be up-to-date with current events.

— This explains your terrorist mind.

— What?

— Look, Isaias, if you consider these things as current events, it is best for you to review your ideas. Thank you for today; tomorrow I will wait for you at the police station, ok?

— Alright!

I did not understood very well what he was talking about terrorist. The important thing, in my point of view, was leaving him at the hotel and going straight to João's bar. A beer in this heat would be nice.

I got into the bar and my hand against the cracked glass counter and the owner was already giving me a hard time.

— Are you trying to break my counter?

— No, I am not. But I am certain that if you don't buy a new glass for it, one day someone will get hurt here. And it will be your fault!

— I already ordered the new glass, and the guilty for this is the one that never came back; not even to pay his tab!

— You should know better! And bring me a cold one, it was a long day for me.

João brought the beer while I was thinking about the shepherd Rafael strategy and of the attorney Baltazar against the felon dating Josias ex-wife.

All of a sudden, I remembered an interesting fact: João, the owner of the bar, and Judith also dated for a while. So, my curiosity raised.

— You almost married the deceased, right, João? Today you would be the most unhappy widower in face of Earth. Have you thought of that?

— God forbid! I am happy being single, despite of my age. It was like Judith had a little demon inside her body. We dated two years and eight months and she cheated me with the entire Rio Vermelho and surroundings! I do not miss at all my past with her. We broke up about five years ago and I am traumatized up to this date. God bless her.

— There is no God! She must be in hell!

— Do not talk about her poor soul like that.

— I do too! Or do you think that, after that horrifying rite at the parish house yard, her soul left her body and went to the Heavens? No way. Remember, further, that she cheated everyone with no regret.

— But deep down she was a nice person, Isaías. Of this I am sure.

I started laughing.

— Look, João, everyone is nice when they are dead. Regardless of how bad, people always become angels. It was always like that. I agree that we may cheat sometimes, but there is a limit to everything. If insist on doing bad things, we will go to hell.

— These "cheats" you said are as impure as any other sin in the world.

— Don't worry, João, God is forgiving. Or are you going to tell me you never cheated?

— I'd rather keep quiet. — He said while the veins around his neck popped up, as if I had just hit the spot.

— I bet you have a lover hidden in the dark of night, when the gossip's eyes are in the deep sleep.

— I am happy the way I am — he replied in an obscure manner. — More than you think!

At this moment something odd happened: the owner of the bar pulled an angry face when he saw Abel passing by on the other side of the street. I looked to Abel and noticed that he also stared at João. There was some hatred there — it was like they were about to kill each other.

— One day Abel will see what I am capable of — I said.

— I hope he does! — grunted João, cranky and tense. He went to the kitchen, as if he had something to do. Maybe he really did and I was getting in his way.

However, that eye contact stayed in my mind as a mystery that I should solve. But, at the time what I needed was to leave.

I went up the hill towards my house. I was really comfortable in the seat of my car, putting my left arm out the window and laying my head to the back of the seat. I was beaten and slightly drunk.

The white flower stayed on the seat next to me, when I laid my eyes upon it I felt a deep aversion for it. My intention was to throw the flower in the garbage. I should have done it on my way home, but I only thought about this when I was already in the garage. Even so, I took the rose, got off the car and...

— I heard you visited your mother, today — said Madalena. — Miracles happen! To whom is this flower, Isaias?

— It is for you! — I said with some difficulty; I was going to throw it away, anyway.

— Really?

— Here, take it!

I left Madalena there and went to the kitchen. Gabriel, my youngest son, was fighting with his sister over a colored plastic cup. Maria is already thirteen and still behaves like a spoiled child. When is she growing up? Fighting over a cup?

— Leave with him and go do your homework! — I told her, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her out of the kitchen.

— But the cup is mine!

— Shut up or I will shove it down your throat!

I took the cup from Gabriel's hands, put it away on the top of the cabinet and smacked his head so that he stops teasing his sister. Both left crying. That will teach them a lesson!

It was night.

I didn't even realized I stayed one hour and a half in the bathroom.

I hope this detective keeps his word and finds out who are Judith's murderers in a week. Thank God tomorrow is Thursday.

Today, thank God, I am going to bed early.

# Thursday

08:15 a.m.

The swallows were already flying over the grass searching for insects. Song-thrushes, blue-black grassquits and common waxbills were flying randomly through the air. The night chill was still there, and the sun, a bit shy, was looking more like a full moon, because of the heavy mist that covered the sky in a deep white.

The detective that solves old mysteries was amazed by this nonsense. I had never seen so much childishness in a single person.

He must have been walking around town with Judith's little chest of old mail under his arms until he got here, because as soon as I arrived I saw that corny thing on the top of the Chief of Police's desk.

— Good morning, Isaías!

— I'll try to have a good one.

— And why wouldn't you?

— You ask this because you don't have a wife that can barely make a reasonable coffee, three stupid children and an uncle that talks nonstop. That is why!

— Even so, good morning! — he said laughing at me. He laughed and contemplated the mountains far away: what a nerve!

— Where will we start the investigation today? — I asked him pretending I wasn't pissed-off at him.

— I need to know what happened with the gate.

— Which gate?

— The wooden gate smashed on the night of the murder.

— What does that shit has to do with this case?

— Details are important.

I wanted to laugh of that bullshit, however, it was best to do what he wanted — It was his responsibility, anyway.

Clóvis picked up the chest in which Judith kept her mail and put it in my car. We went to the parish house.

The same catechist was there, trimming the favorite plants of Father Lázaro. She must have done something really wrong in other incarnations to deserve a life like this one: praying all the time so that God would save her soul, gossip about the lives of others and trimming the Priest's plants. It is a punishment or lack of better things to do.

— Good morning! — said the detective. — Is Father Lázaro in?

— Good morning! He is out delivering some food baskets, but he will be back soon. Don't you want to get in and wait?

— Ok.

We got in and sat at the table, next to the stair that takes upstairs. The detective was amazed by the wooden handrail, engraved by Moisés' deceased father, the carpenter, that besides being ignorant, he was a natural artist, he was Rio Vermelho's "Aleijadinho".

— Please, feel at home — she said. — I have to get back to my plants.

After a while, I saw the priest's car on the opposite side of the square, right in front of Judith's house alley. I noticed that the vehicle did not made that scratching noise when it went over the huge speed bump. If I had the money I would buy a car like that for me.

It was obvious that Tobias, the priest's "handyman" driver, was not happy to see my car parked in front; the priest got off and came in our direction, as Tobias went to the opposite side. Lázaro looked back, finding odd how his driver was acting, but made no comments about it because he had a very important visitor at his home: the famous and old-fashioned detective Clóvis.

Lázaro has long brown hair parted down the middle, similar to Jesus Christ. They are not exactly the same because he passed a little bit over the famous thirty years of age of Jesus. I figure he is about forty five. But people love such resemblance, and they don't care about the age difference.

— Hail, detective Clóvis! — exalted the priest as if they were old acquaintances. — It is a pleasure to meet the man that is saving our churches, in face of so much violence and misleading interpretation of this fanatic iconoclast. I assume you are almost arresting him.

The priest gave him a strong hug and laughed happy. It seemed like an honor to meet the detective.

— You talk like you work alone, father Lázaro, but you have a qualified team in this case. Actually, according to my projection, the iconoclast is about to be arrested.

— Never before our entity needed so much someone to be protected against such a coward terrorist. By the way, what are you doing in our city?

— We are putting the pieces together in this puzzle so difficult to solve; and maybe you may help us.

The priest got upset when the detective brought up the subject of the murder that occurred in his yard. He walked to the stairs, put one hand on the wooden ball adorning the base of the railway, looked depressed to the floor and whispered, with sadness, God's name. A whisper brought him back.

I noticed that Clóvis, "for a change," was not looking directly at the Priest. He had his eyes fixed just above where the Priest had an open and large smile. Something made him act like that, but the steps were empty.

— An angel saying "I love you" — said the detective. — That is rare!

— What?! — questioned the Priest, apprehensive with the detective's quote.

— Forgive me. I was thinking out loud.

Lázaro stared at him harshly, spooky.

— If your investigation is directed to the destruction of sacred images, what are you doing here in Rio Vermelho? My church is not at the iconoclast's list, is it?

— This vandal doesn't act logically; I cannot guarantee anything in this regard. We are here only to get information about the old gate, it is an important detail for the murder. What did happen with it after you had it replaced?

— I didn't want my yard getting desecrated by curious people. No priest would. It is disrespectful! However, the citizens of Rio Vermelho have the right to know the truth and that is why I had it replaced, so that only authorized people and people with a judicial authorization could have access to the crime scene. Otherwise, trespassers could get in the way of the police work.

— You did good, father Lázaro, but where is the old gate?

— With Moisés, the carpenter. He replaced it.

— Judith was working here as a catechist. Have you ever, by any chance, noticed anything strange with her behavior?

— Judith was the youngest catechist and the most filled with life. She had such a good soul that not even the incident with Josias and the way he treated her, making threats, intimidated her. About Josias, I do not believe that he is the murderer, even with his fame of sorcerer.

— Did anyone tried to get back at Josias for something and took advantage of the situation?

— I don't know about that.

— Are you certain that you didn't hear anything that night? Even the blows against the gate of something trying to open it?

— It was raining a lot, detective. I wouldn't hear anything even if I was awake; and if I did, I would never think that someone would be forcing the gate. Small towns doesn't suffer with this. Thank God!

— The murder happened later that night, Judith's house was not broken into, the key was in the inside of the door and she was well-dressed, instead of wearing pajamas. The murderer, then, knew her?

— It is likely. They probably lied, saying they needed to take her somewhere urgently, because of a sick relative or something like that. She wouldn't hesitate changing clothes and leave with them, leaving the door open.

— If it happened that way — concluded the detective —, it should be someone really close to her, because she wouldn't open the door to anyone.

Tobias showed up suddenly and the subject was interrupted immediately. He stared at the priest waiting for a reply, without asking questions.

— You are free to go, Tobias, I will only need you after lunch.

The driver put his thumb up and left.

— I want to show you something — Clóvis said to the priest, resuming the conversation. — I found this in Judith's little chest for mail.

The priest took the small paper strip, read what was written and observed the back, which was empty.

— This is blood — concluded Lázaro looking at the stains.

— This is exactly what I couldn't figure out.

— Maybe this note has nothing to do with it.

— Yeah... maybe.

After asking all his questions, the detective thanked for the assistance and glanced back at the stairs. He opened a big smile. We said goodbye and left.

Outside, the "piano mouth" went back to observe the flight of the lonely pigeon. My body itched impatiently just because he was such an idiot. First because he said some bullshit with the priest: "an angel saying I love you," and second just for looking the pigeon flying. Is he the same detective that people see on television? If so, the bus trip here must have damaged his head.

Abel, Moisés' son, was speaking to Tobias close to the church. They silenced when they realized that Clóvis took the letters chest and crossed the street in direction to my Variant. I noticed that they were not pleased with our approach and, so, I put my hand back so that I could reach my gun faster.

— Such a great weather to stay home under some blankets, just enjoying the cold, isn't it? — Clóvis smiled.

— That is right — said Tobias. — The weather here is crazy. As soon as the mist vanishes, the temperature rises like a rocket.

— What about the cleaning, everything alright?

— These folks are too scared. I had to help cleaning because the girl I took there said she could feel Judith's presence while she dusted the living room. Does it make any sense?

The detective laughed and turned to Moisés' son.

— Abel, is your father at the carpentry?

— My father is an early bird, why?

— I need some details about the forced gate. since he reformed it, he must know something. Besides, you also helped him fixed it, right?

— Right...

— Answer me this: how could you replace that gate so fast?

— The old gates here followed a standard measure, designed by my grandpa, may God be with him. This makes our work easier because we have gates ready with the same measures, for a construction, for example, of as a replacement. Luckily, the hinges were not damaged because the wood was rotten. We had only to remove the remainder of the old gate and install the new one.

— Which was the position of the gate when you got to the site?

— Where it fell down, it remained, and it was cracked in half, filled with muddy footprints, but what really pulled it off were the nails on the hinges.

— Would a kick to that gate wake up the priest or anyone else nearby?

— I don't think so. The wood, despite of the quality of the wood, it was really old and the fall was lessened by the mud. Maybe three or four hard kicks would be sufficient to break it down; and, probably, with the rain no one would hear anything unusual.

— Where is the remainder of this gate?

— I think my father burnt it down.

— Why?

— The priest asked him to reform it, donate it to someone needing it, however, my father is a very religious man and has aversion to things touched by people with a pact with the devil. He preferred to burn it.

Clóvis whispered dissatisfied.

— Have you found anything in the chest, detective? — asked Tobias, observing what the detective was holding.

— Nothing — he lied. — There isn't a thing that may raise suspicion. I need to return it to its place. Do you still have the keys?

— I do not only have the keys, but I am also available.

— Great! I still have some doubts that I need you to solve for me.

— Doubts about what?

— Let's go to her house and you will know.

The detective thanked Abel and followed his way contemplating, again, the pigeon making turns over the square.

Tobias opened the door, squeaking hideously. He could put on some lubricant in these damm rusty hinges. The detective put the chest on the table and went straight ahead to the framed pictures, hanging on the pantry walls. He started asking who was who on the pictures, and Tobias answered to everything. Of course in a small town as this everyone knows everyone. he was even telling stories about the pictures. Then, Clóvis took four pictures off the wall that had more relatives and friends in it and asked if I knew where the most of them lived in. I replied that I knew everyone, he was happy with it.

— These are more recent — he said picking up a pile of pictures. — These were taken on her birthday and are about one year old. If Judith were alive, she would celebrate her birthday this Sunday, and she would certainly want another of those parties at her sister's house, at Mundo Velho.

— Miss Ruth, her sister, also mentioned this birthday.

— You are not going after these people, are you? — I asked.

— Why do you think I took these pictures?

— This way you are putting everyone as a suspect!

— Why not?

— You saw how Moisés answered the door to us! There are people a hundred times more ignorant than that carpenter in this town. If you are used to those fearful folks in the big city, here it is different!

— Have you ever worked anywhere else, other than in Rio Vermelho?

— No.

— That is why you know so little about people.

Clóvis left the chest in the bedroom and thanked the Priest's private driver for helping in the investigation. I noticed that Tobias had stopped a little with his laughs and spoke only as necessary, as if he was suspicious of something. It was like he feared Clóvis presence.

Later we went to my car.

— We will visit these people — he said, showing me the pictures. — One by one.

I sighed in despair. I will spend a lot of time, the fuel for my Variant and, further, talk to all these useless people.

The rest of the morning was as I pictured it: nauseating. We went to every home to learn a little bit about Judith's life; however, the talk was always the same: "she was a really nice person." Everyone is nice when they are dead. They just don't know what to say, they only repeat like robots a tradition that they don't even realize; that is why there is no progress.

Clóvis, always polite with people, asked frivolous questions and left his eyes floating around, watching a mosquito that did not existed. I noticed that he was not happy with the idea of interrogating everyone, so he proceeded with parsimony, but also persistently.

We continued this way in the afternoon, too.

However, the routine of monotonous visits had an ending. We drove to the forum and faced a gathering of people watching Ezequiel, the man with whom Salomé, the sorcerer's ex-wife, had been together.

He wanted to know who was the responsible for pointing him out as a suspect for Judith's death, and he wanted to settle this by any means; however, the district attorney responsible for the inquiry was away. The man ignored the argument that no one could do anything to help him at that time. If the idiot had at least called before leaving his town, certainly he wouldn't have come here for nothing. Misinformed people only get screwed.

We got off the car and saw Ezequiel yelling, pleading and trying to break into the forum, but the employees kept on holding him. Baltazar, the attorney, was one of them.

I raised my head proudly and went towards him; however, a penetrating and absolute silence, followed by the looks converging to the same point, put the detective Clóvis at the center of attention. While I needed to push people around to get through, he had the path cleared without saying a single word. Everyone watched with respect he walking to Ezequiel.

— We need to talk.

The news that there was a top detective in town must have spread around because from a monster, Ezequiel turned into a little boy, confident that a dialogue with that man would solve his problem. Clóvis asked permission to the forum employees and went in followed by that fellow.

Ten minutes went by and both came out.

Ezequiel, much more friendly, wanted to leave as soon as possible, particularly after seeing the police car parked outside. He went away in high speed so that the police couldn't chase him.

Clóvis, with his confident smile, went towards the attorney, Baltazar, and asked him to forget the hypothesis of Ezequiel being the murderer. Baltazar accepted the argument without making a fuss; the respect for the detective was such that he said "if you say so."

The confusion cleared so fast that the only option we had was to get in my Variant and leave behind the bunch of bigmouths staring at the detective as if he was a celebrity.

— We may cross him off of our list of suspects! — said Clóvis inside the car.

I simply smiled. After he easily chasing off Ezequiel and the submission of Baltazar, I had nothing left to say.

We went to the police station.

"We may cross him off of our list of suspects."

This sentence stuck in my mind, alternating with another questioning I had: "What list?".

This is the first time in my life that I see a detective that doesn't have a list of suspects or a logical strategy or psychological pressure to find out who is the murderer.

I barely stopped at the police station and Madalena, my wife, came my way with our three children. All with a big smile and staring at the detective by my side.

I found their behavior odd because they didn't know him and were already happy with his presence.

— It is the television on our side, Isaias. It won't take long until a bunch of reporters show up in your town looking for me. This means we must act faster in the investigation of Judith's murderers.

I tried to question what one thing had to do with the other, but my wife got closer to the door by his side and interrupted me right when I was about to talk.

— And the investigation, how is it going? — she started a conversation.

— There is little progress, Madalena, but it is not as bad as one could think.

— Do you know me?

Madalena was excited when she heard that and my kids were amazed; Clóvis got out of the car with a great sympathy, greeting all and reporting how difficult it was to find traces of the murderer.

Matheus, my oldest son, was holding a camera. Maria, a little timid, hugged her mother, but brought a portable recorder. Gabriel, my youngest, had with him his binoculars, and stared at Clóvis as if he were Super Man; and from time to time looked through it to look at the detective closer, despite of being only two steps back. Certainly it had been a gift from my uncle Pedro.

— Is it true that you jumped out of an airplane without parachutes on? — asked Gabriel.

— Yes, I did. However, it was not a good experience. To tell the truth, I will never do something like that again.

— Why?

Madalena told Gabriel to keep quiet and started herself to ask questions to the detective.

— Did you talk to Elias, the butcher?

— We did, why?

— Because he was one of the first to see the crime scene. People are saying that curious people almost ruined everything just to see the body of that poor girl, but Elias didn't, he didn't put a single foot on the forced gate because he knew it would ruin the police work.

— We heard about that — answered Clóvis.

— They say that the priest sent everyone away when he saw all those people in his yard. The only thing he didn't do was picking a stick and hit everyone, as he did with the evangelicals.

— Father Lázaro is very intelligent, Madalena, but he should know how to refrain his impulses.

— He has high blood pressure and has difficulty trying to make Tobias, his driver, to overcome the alcohol addiction and now he faces the death of one of his catechists.

— Tobias has a drinking problem? — asked Clóvis, politely.

— People say he was nearly sacked because he drank too much at a religious celebration at Magalhães, a district far from the town. While Lázaro was celebrating the mass, he drank without limits. The priest doesn't have a driver's license and must be a good example so that the drivers in town do not get into cars without the proper licenses. But, on this day, he was the one that had to drive, because Tobias was fully drunk. They say...

— People say, they say, others say! — I interrupted her, impatient. — Don't you have anything else to do other than talk about other people's lives?

Suddenly I heard my words being repeated by the recorder on my daughter's hand. Interesting enough, even at distance it reproduced a sound with good quality.

Clóvis started laughing and Matheus took the opportunity to take a picture; then, he handed me the camera and the five of them got together for a picture with my Variant behind them; I did everything so that my car appeared wholly on the picture.

My family went away carrying the camera carefully. They only forgot to ask for an autograph.

The detective loved the warm reception and had a lot of fun talking to my kids. Later he went to the Chief of Police office to make some phone calls regarding the effect of the media at the population in Rio Vermelho.

I leaned against my car and got dizzy thinking so hard about what was going on with the people in Rio Vermelho in view of the celebrity detective, and what a bunch of reporters would do in a the city because of his presence. Then it hit me, I remembered of the question Father Lázaro asked about the possibility of the "icono-I-do-not-know-what" coming here; and why it was so important to find out who killed Judith.

Worst than that was trying to find the reason for the contradiction of this detective between the inexplicable aptitude of reading minds, and the difficulty in finding out who the murderers were. It looked like sometimes it went wrong. Unless he still did not face any of the participants in that horrifying rite; or already did faced them but was waiting for the right moment to get them all... I don't know! It was so much information that I had to massage my head. I finally got to the conclusion that I definitely needed to watch more television.

The sun had set and the Morning Star was shining in a still clear sky.

Clóvis went out of the police station with a smile on his face and came in my direction trying to talk.

— Where does this street takes us when going up there?

— There is an aviation field at the top of the mountain. An unpaved strip where, once at a lifetime, a small plane lands. It is common to some felonies to go up there because it has a great view, without mentioning that it is the most isolated place in the world, and they can do anything they want up there.

— Interesting: a place that has a good view of the sky.

Clóvis smiled and contemplated the Morning Star.

— It is not a star, Isaias, it is Venus. A planet reflects sunlight, while stars have their own light. By the way, what a family you have! I loved them.

— If you want you may take all of them.

He laughed hard and went back staring at the Star, I mean, the Planet.

— In a planet system, Isaias, in which the sun has no heat at all, would its planets also be cold?

— Obviously!

— What if, by some miracle, this sun became hot again, would such planets also take advantage of this miraculous heating?

— If they are nearby, certainly they would be heated, too. Is this a joke?

— No. It is only a metaphor about the human being.

— What are you trying to say?

— I am trying to say that when we change, people around us tend to change too.

— Are you trying to say that the problem with my family is me?

— Have you ever tried to heat like a sun?

— What?!

— Have you ever tried to give them a good morning, some advice, a hug, or... a flower?

— This is nonsense!

— What did you gain so far with your way of thinking?

I kept quiet. The only thing that came to mind were curse words.

— Have you ever been married? — I asked.

— No.

— Think about it?

— Yes, I do.

— So, when you constitute your own family, you will know how it is to be in my shoes.

— You must not treat your children how your parents treated you.

— By any chance, do you know my parents?

— No, but I do know that your personality is the heritage of their personality, and you are transmitting it to your children.

— You do not know what you are talking about — I replied. — If you are not married and live travelling around in this world without stopping anywhere, it is likely that you don't have a steady relationship. Therefore, you do not know the first thing about being in my shoes.

— A perfect solar system, Isaías, needs a perfect sun. That is what you need to understand.

He gave up trying to teach me how to live, but kept the smile on his face.

He preferred to go away on foot, saying that he needed to clear his mind and get to know the city better. So, I gave him good night unhappy about what he told me, obviously, and went home, leaving my car at the police station.

# Friday

The day was so nice that I wasn't even angry at the detective contemplating the damm butterflies at the mediocre police station yard.

— Good morning, Isaías!

— What a great day!

— Excited today?

— Friday is always like this.

— And why not being like this every day?

— Well, because not every day is Friday!

— That is true! — he laughed.

— Let's take the pictures and continue our investigation, detective?

— Later. Right now there is someone that wants to talk to you.

— Who? — I asked.

— The Chief of Police, Jonas.

Finally some good news. I hope he brings good news, by the way, great news, to make my day even better. First, because Jonas will tell me in detail who is this honorable detective. Second, because the Chief of Police is the one that will follow this investigation from this point on. Finally, because I am going back to where I belong without anyone disturbing me. Thank God!

Dr. Jonas was admiring his desk so neat and organized, feeling pleased. What called most of the attention at the poor bastard was his wavy hair in a thin and brown face, in addition to that antipathetic mustache.

— Is everything okay, Isaías?

— It could be better.

— Are you alone?

— Yes. The detective is outside watching butterflies.

— Close the door.

The Chief of Police looked through the window to make sure there was no one around. I got immediately anxious. He sat down and placed a typical smile of a bigmouth that is about to tell a bombastic information.

— How the investigation is going?

— Without rhyme or reason — I replied.

— But I heard he always finds out everything!

— The only thing he finds out are thoughts.

— How do you know this, Isaias?

— Stay close to him and soon you will know. And what do you know about this detective?

— I know he's been to a mental institution — he said whispering. — Considered crazy.

— Really?!

— This was about five years ago. He was an ordinary person, but he got this way after climbing to a mount top to pray and got down saying he had spoken to God, and that God had granted him the gift of translating the language of the angels.

— And he came to Rio Vermelho to translate the language of the angels?!

— No! He is cured of this psychosis, so they say. The mystery is in how easy he finds out about things.

— This is true — I said. — It looks like the devil himself tells him everything.

— It is not the devil — the Chief of Police laughed. — They say he still talks to those angels. Everyone has a guardian angel; the detective just have to get close to the person and make the right questions, and the angels tell everything.

— And do you believe in this, Chief?

— You are the one that have to tell me if anything like this is possible or not. Aren't you working with him?

I started thinking about it.

Clóvis, then, had been in a mental institution. Logically, it is likely that his madness is coming back gradually. As he doesn't have conscience of reality, for sure, he keeps pretending that there are angels everywhere.

— Well, Jonas, sometimes he is scary ... but who told you all this?

— Have you heard about the investigation of a so called iconoclast?

— Yes. That is all they talk about here in Rio Vermelho.

— Here is the thing...

Dr. Jonas told me a little bit about the story of the so called iconoclast, but I couldn't understand much. The method that this detective uses is weird, and I am not in the mood to keep talking about images of saints.

— You will take over this investigation from now on, right?

— God forbid! — he replied. — I am off-duty, but you may use the police car, that is much better than your old car.

— But I...

— I can't, Isaías. I have an appointment.

— But I thought that...

— You thought it wrong! Keep on with your work and tell this detective that I am thankful for him having my desk organized while I was away.

— How do you know it was him and not me?

The Chief of Police puffed his cigarette, laughed in sarcasm and said:

— Since when do you know how to do anything?

I left his office pissed off. This Chief of Police will have what is coming for him, and I want to be around to celebrate the day he gets it!

On the other hand, I will not use my gasoline. As soon as the day goes by, I will be free again. The only thing I must do is observe the "detective that came from the mental institution" making the same questions to the people without at least changing the sequence of his inquiry; driving from one home to the other according to the photographs he selected and laughing at the people that still live in the past and that stop on their way just to see a police car just because it carries a detective that appeared on television. People from the countryside are always like this.

The morning flew away. The sun, little by little, was getting stronger until the temperature was unbearable. Even so, I didn't complain, because I was counting the minutes to the end of the day.

When I drove downtown, Matheus, my son, waived for me to stop.

— How are you doing, Clóvis?

— Everything ok!

— What do you want? — I asked.

— Mom asked you to buy some good steak for our lunch today at the Elias' butcher shop.

— Elias? That pig?! He is always with his hands filled with blood and doesn't even wash them to sleep. Never mind, I will buy it somewhere else.

— If you say so.

Matheus commented with Clóvis that earlier, on the radio, the only thing heard was about the TV detective acting in Judith's murder case in our town. Clóvis thanked him for the message and asked me to drive away urgently.

— Let's go to the Elias butcher shop — ordered the detective.

— But I do not buy meat there. Elias is a pig...

— Let's go there, now!

Clóvis entered the butcher shop decided to do something.

He gave a quick pick at the establishment, which is the same as any other butcher shop in this world: mosquito everywhere and a bunch of dogs in front waiting for some leftovers. After observing the inside of that hole, he stared at the frail man on the other side of the counter.

— May I help you? — said Elias, the butcher.

— Yes, you may — answered Clóvis, serious. — We want you to explain this.

He reached in his pocket the piece of paper stained in blood where it could be read a single thing: "Today?", and placed it over the counter. I noticed immediately that Elias changed his color, flabbergasted, ashamed; he couldn't say anything to explain what was going on and started shaking.

I barely thought about picking up my revolver and Clóvis lifted his hand ordering me to stay put.

— May we talk, Elias?

— Please, come in.

What we saw at the back of Elias house was a yard partially cemented, a bunch of violets and bromelias. Other than that, a wall so high that you couldn't see the neighbors. The roof extended up to a certain point, making the place a little fresher; there was a rustic table at the center of the protected and aired area.

Elias is single, apparently at his thirties and his simplicity leaves him away from gossips about his life. He is thin, with a thin nose, clear brown hair and parted down the middle; someone that doesn't draw the attention of anyone because he barely leaves home. I don't know if he has a relationship or not. But he is definitely related to the crime.

— Where did you find this paper? — the butcher asked, acting like a victim.

— At the chest in which Judith collected her mail.

— I thought she threw it away — he whispered. — I didn't even remembered anymore of that.

— When, exactly, did you gave her this?

— Three or four months ago.

— Please, tell us what happened.

"About two years ago she became a customer. She always came here to the shop excited. In the beginning, I was a bit shy, but little by little I started going with her ways, and we became intimate.

Until one day she invited me to go to a party at her sister's house; this was last year. I wasn't in the mood, but she told me that, if I did, she had a surprise to me later on. She insisted until I was convinced to go.

It was a great party. Miss Ruth's farm, her sister, got crowded with people. Photographs were taken of every guest, except me — I hate being photographed.

After a few days, she came by saying she was feeling lonely and invited me to go to her home so that we could talk a little alone; she mentioned the surprise again. Then, I waited till it was night and went to her home at the time in which almost the whole city is sleeping... and I had an unforgettable night. But that was not it. We saw each other many other times, always late at night.

Until one day, when the butcher shop was filled with customers, she showed up to get her order. I wanted to see her later, but since our relationship was secret, I had no way to indicate my intentions. So, I had the idea of writing this note and putting it inside her order. "Today?" would be enough for her to understand my message. It had to be quick and, therefore, I ripped off the paper and wrote down without even having the chance to wash my hands. No one at the shop realized it.

It was a shame when she called later saying she had a commitment, and that she probably would not be home early, and, if she did, she would be too tired to see me".

— How long did this relationship last? — the detective asked.

— About eleven months.

— Did you see each other very often?

— No. Most of times she made some kind of excuse, but I never cared about it.

— Did she have another lover?

— I don't think so; if she had, I wouldn't be with her.

— Anyone else knew about this?

— No — the butcher replied, laconic.

— Did anyone ever see you going in or out of Judith's house?

— Almost, but I don't think so.

— Almost?

— Yeah... It was last month. We had agreed to meet at night. There was no one at the street, I went through the church square and got into the alley, as usual. When I was close to her house a car suddenly showed up at the corner of the square. The engine wasn't on and I didn't hear it scratching the floor at the speed bump. I got in quickly at her porch without letting anyone, whoever that person was, see me.

— Did you see the car?

— I only saw that there was a car at the square thanks to the lights that illuminated the alley all of a sudden, and I ran in without looking back.

Elias made a silence, as if he had nothing else to say. The detective stared at the table, focused. I noticed he was not satisfied with what he heard, and pushed him further.

— What else you have to tell me? — questioned, suspicious of something.

— That is all!

— I have the impression that you are hiding something... and it is best if you tell me.

— That is all, I swear! — the butcher, restless.

— Are you sure?

— I already told you everything — he whined. — What else do you want to know?

— About the wind!

The butcher's eyes opened wide, and his mouth opened in terror. Clóvis words were almost like a knife cutting the poor bastard's in half.

— I... I... I only found it odd the door opening by itself — answered Elias, pale. — How did you know this?

— It doesn't matter. Tell us everything in detail.

The butcher sighed deeply and said:

— After the shock with the car going down the street with the lights and engine turned off, I got in and told Judith what happened. She didn't pay too much attention to that and we went to bed. Half hour later, the door squeaked. Afraid that someone was breaking into, Judith got up to see what was going on; she locked the door and came back saying it was just the wind, without giving much attention to what happened.

The detective itched his head impatiently and looked at the empty chair in front of him, as if someone was sitting there.

— Did she ever tell you any dreams?

— What do you mean?

— A wish, some project, or anything that would suddenly change her life.

— Once, but...

— What did she say?

— Nothing important. Well... she wanted to leave and start over somewhere else. That was all.

— But was she planning something?

— She used to say she was tired of this countryside life and that she wanted more. Oh! She also talked about a prince charming.

— Prince charming?! — I laughed.

— That's right. She always said that one day she would get her clothes and would move away with her prince charming.

— Was there some seriousness in her voice?

— I think she didn't mean it.

— Your secret will be safe with us, Elias, and we are thankful for your help — he said to the butcher.

— Thank you. Is there anything else I could do?

— Yes, there is.

— What is it?

— One kilo of prime steak to Madalena, the wife of my friend here.

— On the house! — smiled Elias.

Clóvis had a look of disappointment, no wonder. First, because Elias report did not validate his theory that Samuel, Moisés son, broke up with Judith and left to the United States because he found out she had a secret lover. Samuel left two years ago and the relationship with Elias lasted for the last eleven months. Second, because he had applied every part of his brain in a dirty dating note he believed was related to the crime. Finally, because it all took him back to square one; and, this way, he had no other hypothesis to work with.

We visited some other possible suspects up to lunch time, as directed by the "mental detective."

At the afternoon little changed. We still had two pictures to look for, and it was likely that we wouldn't have enough time to question everyone before the sunset.

Clóvis no longer showed his piano mouth. No wonder, after finding out that the bloody note wasn't what he thought it was, he had no strength to think.

The sun was getting closer to the mountains. The clouds spread around painted the sky in a grayish orange, and the temperature was cooling down. It was the end of my work day. So, I left the detective back at the hotel, went straight to the bar and had the first swallow of beer as if it was sugared water.

But the physical tiredness combined with a deep and inexplicable sadness persuade me to go home. If at least my friends were there to tell some jokes, maybe I would awake. The worst part is that I keep forgetting that my mother is at the hospital; I have to visit her later.

I had only one beer and went home.

#

# Saturday

— You old cow! Tramp! One day I will blow your head off!

It is awful to wake up with someone yelling around. My neighbor is a master in scandals, during the day or at night. I have to curse her to see if she realizes it!

The worst is that she named her son Isaías. With all the names in this world, why picking exactly the same name as mine?

I had a nightmare.

I dreamed that Clóvis was an attorney that wanted to persuade me not to look for justice, asking retribution for the death of Gabriel, my youngest son, who was inside a coffin; and the funeral was in my living room.

Madalena was crying, and Clóvis talking constantly:

— What do you want retribution for? Will it bring your child back?

I pushed him with violence and went towards the coffin. I couldn't believe my son was dead. I took off the veil covering his face and got surprised when it was not Gabriel, but my mother who was there.

— Isaías! — she yelled opening her eyes.

She raised from the coffin and stared me bitterly. I tried to run away, but my legs wouldn't move.

— Isaías, get over here!

Marta, my mother, forced her nails in my shirt and started shaking me. Her eyes were wide open and saliva was running down her mouth. I couldn't stand it and woke up relieved when I realized it was only a nightmare. However, even awake, I heard another yell:

— Isaías, get over here, now!

I jumped. My heart was beating so hard I almost had a stroke. I got off the bed, opened the drapes to let some light in and, even so, hear my name being yelled again.

— Isaías! Don't make me go there!

Actually, it wasn't my mother yelling, it was my neighbor ordering her son with the same name as mine to get back home. In front of my house she called little Isaías desperately, but he didn't mind.

I am the one that got traumatized by the shock and with such a bad humor that I stared at the her with hatred, and I couldn't help myself: I cursed her until my voice was gone. Worst, I told her that one day would blow her head off.

I left my bedroom bitter and went to the bathroom, but the telephone rang and, to make everything worse, there was no one to answer it, and I, who was in such a bad mood, had to answer it.

— Hello!

— Isaías?

— This is he.

— You are late for work.

— Who is this?!

— This is the Chief of Police, Jonas, schmuck, or did you forget how my voice sound is like?

— But today is Saturday and I...

— I don't care what day it is. Orders are orders!... Tu! Tu! Tu! Tu! Tu!

The bastard hung up on me. And I have to deal with this! What is the hurry in finding out who killed that girl? Will this bring her back?

After going to the bathroom and having the terrible coffee that my incompetent wife prepared, I went to the police station and found the Chief of Police sitting down in his chair as if he were the Godfather.

— Good morning, Isaías! — he said.

— Maybe to you!

— I know this is your day-off, but our orders are to solve this case as soon as possible. Therefore, it would be better if you do something.

— He will never solve anything in this world by looking to the corners of the walls! And why don't you follow the investigation from now on?

— Because I am going to the Mayor's farm to get some rest and I don't want to be disturbed. Besides, since you are following it since the beginning, it is best not to transfer the responsibility to somebody else, once it may impair the detective's investigation.

I sat down in one of the chairs at his office, put my head down and struggled to hold my cry inside. Worst than working on Saturdays and Sundays, it is to learn that the Chief of Police is going to a farm to look at the Mayor's daughter, who will be walking around the pool on her bikinis.

— Did you find out anything? — asked Jonas.

— Nothing so far... by the way, do you know Elias, the butcher?

— Yes.

— He was Judith's lover, but the detective didn't incriminate him and further promised that he wouldn't say anything about his romance. I didn't promise anything, that is why I am telling you.

— Any leads on the murderers?

— Oh!... He insists on the old gate, with footprints, with lovers, with guests of her birthday party, with prince charming, but not with murderers... not at all!

— What? Prince charming?

— That is what I said! Elias told him that Judith used to talk about a prince charming in their dates and the detective created a bunch of theories.

— I was told he is weird. But, Isaías, have patience, go on and see what he wants and doesn't interfere too much with his work.

— That is exactly what I am doing.

The rest of the morning was monotonous. I did not speak to the detective, and he did not speak to me. I took a path to avoid the city traffic. I was sick of people trying to see the detective that appeared on the television.

Finally, we had only one picture left, which we would probably conclude today, since the great majority of the guests photographed were repeating.

The afternoon was even more monotonous. The detective didn't say a word to me, and started to intrigue me. But the countdown for the investigation that was a shot in the dark cheered me up.

We only had five people left to see. Tobias, João, the bar owner, and other three of Judith's cousins. The first one didn't need to be interviewed because Clóvis had already inquired him enough. That is, we had only the cousins, who are three fools, and the bar owner, João.

I took a path so that João would be the last one interviewed, so that as soon as the investigation was concluded I would be exactly on the cracked glass counter begging for a cold one. The detective will have to leave on foot!

Having said and done. We concluded the interview very quickly with the relatives residing on the street right under the Catholic Church, almost at the corner with Judith's house alley. Clóvis asked some bullshit and they replied in the same way.

Well, João, the owner of the bar in which I keep my tab, is the only one missing. I could barely believe that this investigation was about to end. To make it better it was about to end in the one place I love to be.

In our way to the bar, we saw that the church square was filled with kids. Some playing hide-and-seek and others throwing rocks at the pigeon that made its nest at the palm tree.

When we passed over the speed bump, the boys booed us when they heard the car floor scratching against the bump.

— Wait! — ordered the detective, with a look of doubt. — How many vehicles in this town do not scratch when they come through here?

— No one.

— Wrong. Do you remember that Tobias said something about the priest's car?

— Oh, yeah! He was talking to Abel, and you needed to return Judith's mail chest at her place.

— Do you know if there is any other car that doesn't scratch when it comes through here?

— No. Where are you going with this?

— Elias, the butcher, said that one night, on his way to Judith's, he didn't hear the car going through here at the time he was in the alley. It is odd that, in a probably silent night, a scratch like this wasn't heard. He said, also, that the engine was off. Why would the driver go down the square so silently?

— To save fuel — I replied. — Do you know how much gasoline costs these days?

Clóvis shook his head negatively.

— What about this noise with the speed bump that was not heard?

I thought a little bit about the detective's theory. If Elias didn't hear anything that night it is because the car that almost caught him getting inside Judith's house did not scratch on the bump. And, Tobias drives a car that doesn't scratch.

— So what? — I asked. — Tobias is the priest's driver and is available at any time of the day or night.

— Does he work every night? By the way, where the priest's jeep is parked?

— At Tobias house — I explained. — Since there is no garage at the parish house, the priest allows Tobias to keep the car.

— Have you seen him driving the priest's car during the night?

— Yes.

— Tobias hides something that I still haven't figured out. We need to interrogate him.

It was easy to find the suspect. Just by driving through a street on the back of the church and we saw the jeep parked in front of the square. I saw Tobias leaving the parish house and getting into the car. I immediately got off the police car and prevented him from leaving, while Clóvis was still coming his way.

— Where do you think you are going?

— I am going to pick up Father Lázaro — Tobias replied.

— Why in such a hurry?

— Because he called me and asked me to meet him.

— Well, he will have to wait. We need to talk to you.

— Now?

— Now. Get out of the car!

Ignoring my order, Tobias ran away with the priest's car in high speed.

I ran to the police car and went off in his pursuit without Clóvis help, who yelled my name so that I would wait. However, my police instinct prevailed and I couldn't stop the car.

I saw the suspect's car still within the city limits, but the fugitive opted for taking the dirt road, out of town. The dust made my work difficult, but I kept on going and followed him with bravery, even with such a poor view of the road.

All of a sudden, the dust cleared and the fugitive car disappeared. There were no crossroads in which Tobias could have gone into. From the left side of the road there was a tall mount and, on the other side, a barbed wire fence surrounding the cliff that obstructs the cattle access to the road. I parked the police car and wondered what was going on. I got out of the car and noticed that the fence was destroyed: Tobias had lose control over the car.

I took some steps towards the fence and saw the priest's car down the cliff, upside down.

I had trouble to get to the car. The bushes were tall and the sticks were hurting my skin. Tobias was alive, but, unconscious and bloody.

A crowd waited outside the hospital when the ambulance arrived with one of the guilty ones for Judith's murder. Therefore, I gave a small convincing smile to persuade them of my personality.

The Chief of Police Jonas also appeared and witnessed the entry of Tobias at the emergency room. Clóvis was waiting for me leaning against a pillar in front of the hospital.

— I was told right that you find out the impossible — said Jonas to the detective, who remained indifferently to my behavior. But I was so certain of what I did that I didn't want to explain anything.

Everything would be perfect wasn't for the intromission of Doctor Hamilton, the city's doctor, who was always trying to put everyone down. He barely introduced himself and started immediately to criticize our work.

— Who is saying he found out anything? If are not aware of this, Tobias is only an alcoholic, and he is about to lose the benefit of being the priest's driver.

— If you are so smart, — I said, firm and calm. — why, then, he ran away?

— Because he used the car against the priest's will and is feeling guilty for this.

— How so?

— Do you remember the incident between Josias and Judith? Did you know that, when Josias fell, he almost broke the leg of an elderly lady?

— Yes, I did — I replied. — This lady had to go to the hospital in a hurry due to strong pain on her ankle. What does one thing has to do with the other?

— The fact that this lady is Tobias mother, and he was responsible for taking her to the hospital, at the priest's car, right when he was pushing away all evangelicals from the square.

— He did the right thing, then!

— No question about it — replied Doctor Hamilton. — But go on and try to tell this to the priest.

The Chief of Police started connecting the dots and now looked at us in disapproval for the persecution of the poor bastard.

However, I, Isaías, am not guilty if the priest doesn't like evangelicals and neglects to help a lady that twisted her foot just because she was at the church square disturbing someone that has aversion to this kind of manifestation. I am not guilty if the sorcerer fell over this poor lady. I am not guilty if this lady is an evangelical. I am not guilty if Tobias took the priest's car without permission to help his own mother, and I am not guilty if he is a coward and ran away from a questioning that has nothing to do with his fear of getting late to pick up the priest and lose his driver position. And now everyone is looking at me as if I was guilty of everything in this world? Well, bite me!

— I need to tell you something, Isaías — said Hamilton.

— What is it?! — I cried.

— Your mother case is getting worse. You better take her to the capital.

Without thinking about it, I went to Marta's apartment.

I was so busy during the week that I forgot about my mother.

Marta was really worse and was put into the ambulance that had just performed the assistance to Tobias. It was sad to see the look of doctor Hamilton closing her eyes and asking to turn the car off, for there was no longer a reason to drive her.

— She went to heaven! — said Clóvis looking above the ambulance.

I looked to the detective and he was shaking his head, as if he confirmed what someone was saying, but there was no one on the top of the ambulance.

I left dizzy.

I never entered into an empty church. This because I am always in the church when there is a mass or a wedding, once in a lifetime. The door was open and, so, I went in.

I remembered of a wedding with a full church. My father brought me and I got excited as soon as I got in and saw the quantity of people sitting and the empty central corridor. A long red carpet enhanced that free space up to the altar. I got free of my dad's hands and ran with my arms open to the end of the carpet. I felt like I was flying, and I really was. A feeling of freedom that only a child appreciates. I went back in the same way, ignoring the people recriminating my behavior. I ran until I got close to my father. My intention was to repeat that feeling of freedom, the feel of flying; and I prepared to a new adventure, but my father grabbed me by my ears so harshly that I nearly lost my balance. "keep quiet, bastard!", he said, as he shook me. At that time I lost my freedom and I felt like an idiot in front of the crowd. The worst of all is that there was no one there to protect me. I wasn't even allowed to cry.

It is a bad thing to remember our past. Even worst is to remember the present.

I sat down in one of the benches, in the middle of the church, and paid attention to the image of Jesus Christ at the top of the altar. I stayed there for a while.

Finally, I left the church and faced the detective, who was looking for me.

However, he only stopped at the church stairway and observed, with anger, the attitude of a bunch of boys in front of one of the palm trees at the square. I was also curious when I realized they were throwing rocks at the poor pigeon with its nest on a hole at the top of the old palm tree.

— What are you doing, kids?! — I yelled.

None of them wanted to explain what they were actually doing. It wasn't the first time this pests were trying to hurt the poor bird. Someone should teach them a lesson so they would never do that again.

I went in their direction with the intention of grabbing them by their ears. My anger was such that I would probably rip off the ear of the lucky bastard. But Clóvis intervened:

— Are you trying to kill that pigeon?

— No. — one of them answered.

— What are you trying to do, after all?

— She doesn't belong there.

— How so?

They all started talking, all at the same time. All that talking was making me crazy. But we were able to understand that there was a nest behind the cross, inside the church, and that, all of a sudden, she moved to the hole at the palm tree. They wanted only to scare her off so that it would get back to the hideout behind Jesus Christ cross.

Suddenly, Clóvis was pale and sat down in one of the benches at the square. His eyes were petrified and he was gasping.

— Are you feeling ok, detective?

— I am ok, don't worry.

— What happened?

— Nothing.

Then, he went away on the streets without direction. I couldn't figure it out, I didn't follow him because I had more important things to do.

A great part of the citizens of Rio Vermelho were in front of my home to my mother's funeral.

Madalena was in a wretched mood. As well as my relatives. My father was napping on the sofa. I sat down on the porch and remembered my friends that so far wasn't there.

Never a night in my life had been so long. It was nine at night but it felt like three in the morning. My body was in such a pain that I could barely stand.

It was then that my Uncle Pedro, who kept on holding the bible, came towards me.

— There is someone at the telephone that wish to speak to you.

— Who?

— It is João, from the bar.

— Now?

— Yeah. He says it is urgent.

I got up and went to the telephone.

João was scared because Clóvis was drinking soda, but he had a look of someone that would burst anytime. I had nothing to do with this, but João asked me for the love of God to go up there because he was hypnotic. I jumped into my car and left without saying a word about my whereabouts. I parked in front of the bar and saw Clóvis sitting on a stool, with the elbows over the cracked glass of the poor João. In fact, he looked desolated; as I did in my depression stages from time to time.

I concluded that João should be more worried about his counter than with Clóvis. It was a miracle that nothing bad happened yet.

— Isaías! What are you doing here?

— I came to drive you to the hotel. Why are you looking like this?

— I am just tired of struggling and failing to reach my goals. If I were here last week, the investigation would be easier, because I would be able to see the time of transition at the killer's mind in time.

— What do you mean?

— I solved the mystery of Judith's murder, Isaias, but for now I can't prove anything.

— So, you already know who are the murderers? How did you find out?

— The angels told me. There are still many things between Heaven and Earth that I am unaware of.

I silenced for a moment. The will to know who killed Judith was mixed with the curiosity of knowing about how he was able to read minds. I just couldn't ask both things at once, even because I needed to go back home. I asked, then, what bothered me the most.

— Answer me one thing, detective: How do you know what is inside my mind?

— Do you really want to know, Isaias?

— Yes. Yes, I do, of course.

Well, I helped my father raise cattle, in a small farm to the south of the State of Minas Gerais. In a late afternoon, after another day of hard work, I went up the hill where I did my praying. It had been a hard but rewarding day.

The sunset was one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. The clouds were colored orange, almost red. Around the sun, about to vanish, a radiating yellow was shining.

I closed my eyes and suddenly felt loneliness and defeat. Loneliness because there is no one with whom I may share my doubts and certainties; and defeat because it is impossible to bring people into the Reality: we are surrounded by many defense mechanisms that turn us inaccessible, that makes us invulnerable to any changes.

I kept thinking about how to understand that we do not take anything to the next life, we only take our soul. A soul that we ignore because it goes against the earth demands moved, essentially, by greed. However, convinced of how useless my intentions were, I gave up thinking about the subject due to a sad matter: life is short as a short breeze. I would not have the time to talk to the whole world about the power of God, if I do not have a long life to reach all ears. It would be impossible to fulfill a dream like that, so great; it would be too ambitious for me.

It was right then that the clouds turned into four angels hand in hand, as if they were dancing. A voice, from I don't know where, questioned my thoughts and I replied fearful of what that power could do to the sky.

I was sure I was talking to a very powerful angel, and when contemplating the clouds in the shape of children with wings, I felt the urge of doing something in reward to that divine presence. So I put myself available to act as a Translator of Angels, I mean, someone with the capacity of seeing and hearing what angels have to say to human beings, and so, heal the misfortunes of all souls.

The Angel told me that being a Translator of Angels was not such a simple task, and gave me the option of salving all or only one soul. I was even warned about the negative side of this proposal, because there were good and bad angels, but I ignored the warning.

I thanked for believing in me and I promised that I wouldn't let him down. I got down the hill feeling triumphant for having turned myself into a divine being, however, my life, since then, turned into a nightmare.

When I got home, my parents were waiting for me. I freaked when I saw that each of them had a guardian angel. Angels that demonstrated with gestures their displeasure for the time I stayed up the hill, and this displeasure was mysteriously transmitted to them, without they realizing it.

My father was the first one to show the anger. His angel was vigorous, thirty years younger, but with a facial resemblance, and demonstrated a hostility similar to my brother's angel. As soon as I got in, he induced my father to do things that he obeyed as soon as ordered.

My mother looked at me as if I were a poor bastard. The angel following her looked like a child carrying a doll wrapped up in a cloth, however, the doll was headless; and this, I don't know how, made my mother feel sorry for me.

— Why do you allow these angels to control your minds? — I questioned.

— What are you talking about?! — my father asked me, impatiently.

— God gave me the Mission to translate the language of the angels, and now I can see them, but they are not helping me, much to the contrary, they are harming you and I!

The angels started laughing and, immediately, all obeyed.

I tried to explain how they were being handled, and I even anticipated some things the angels induced them to think, however, they got scared. It was like guessing what they were thinking, and the reaction turned them against me.

They went to bed, and the only thing I achieved was a bitter taste of defeat for not being able to talk to my own family.

I was a failure in my own house, but I tried a new strategy at school.

It was amazing, but all students and teachers had, close to them, an angel which visual deferred in some aspects the person they were side by side with. Thus, the angels had a beautiful nose, others a beautiful mouth and, in others, the skin color or even the eye color was different from the teachers and students in my school. In general they were taller and, in majority, the angels had a healthy body.

I found out that these semi-invisible beings used this recourse so that people would feel unhappy when they were feeding themselves, unconscious, of the beauty and physical aspects transmitted by the angels inducing stereotypes.

I tried, in many ways, to take people apart from the angels so that I could talk without their intromission, but it was impossible. They went through doors and walls, as if nothing existed. Little by little, my friends in school started getting away from me. And I couldn't convince them that angels were manipulating them.

My wish to tell on these angels turned into an obsession. I no longer could talk freely to my friends. Months went by and I couldn't save a single soul.

Until one day, the principal, the teachers and my family had a reunion to decide upon my future. No one could bear any longer my weird actions and they were all scared at the things I was saying. To them, I wasn't in my perfect state of mind; and my only medicine would be a psychiatric treatment — at a sanatorium.

I fought with all my strength to prove that the mad ones were they, but the nurses tied me up in a straitjacket and gave me some sedatives. When I woke up, I was already in the institution.

No matter how crazy this sounds, it was inside the mental institution that I found out the true value of life. I wasn't treating my madness, however, I learnt to deal with it. I met amazing people that were considered mad, and crazy people that were considered normal. I received visits from my bad and from my good angel, and learnt, with a great difficulty, to distinguish between them. From that point on I could deal with myself. I was, finally, cured.

However, I still had to fulfill my Mission: save, at least, one soul. But I do not want to present myself before God with a single soul saved; I want to destroy this Evil! Even if all attempts up to this time have been in vain, I wish to achieve my target — I wish to fulfill the promise I did to the mysterious angel.

Clóvis talked so much that I was almost ordering a beer to João; I almost forgot that a funeral was going on at my house. I turned back to Clóvis and recovered my attention.

— With all due respect, but these beings that you see, are they really angels?

— No, Isaías, they are demons that had once been angels. When Lucifer tried to steal God's kingdom and was expelled from the Heavens, several angels created a kind of demons with the purpose of leading mankind to sin. This is how this army under the command of the fallen angel appeared. That is why angels and demons have the same origin.

— So, you know what I am thinking because I have a bad angel near me that dictates what I am thinking, and you can hear him?

— Exactly. However, you do not think exclusively through your bad angel, since, inside of you there is a soul, which is also responsible for your thinking. Consequently, your brain receives the order of these two beings, but the voice of your thinking is the only voice to both origins, what makes it difficult to distinguish when you are thinking with your soul, that is, consciously, or, then, you are being taken to think through an alternative mechanism with evil objectives, which is mastering your mind, brainwashing you, and creating personality disorders.

— But, is there any way to differentiate one from the other?

— Yes, there is. It is the presence of the good angel. This is the angel of judgment, concentration and search of wisdom. Its objective is for the soul to resume its self-esteem and weakens the strength of the bad angel, but, for this, it is necessary that you rethink your actions since childhood, what is very painful. Many times, it is required the assistance of a professional to help you at this stage.

— What about my good angel, detective, does it have wings?

— Wings are symbols, and to be honest, I have never seen your good angel, but this is often because the majority of the good angels goes back to heaven during the childhood of their protégés. However, your bad angel never left your side; and it doesn't have a big belly and is much younger. What brings me the conclusion that you have a complex about your body and your age.

This is logic: every person over forty years of age and out of shape has a complex. I do not know anyone that is okay about getting old. This detective looks more like a cheater than a Translator of Angels.

— It is your angel, Isaias, right now, behind you, about twenty centimeters from your back, and it just said that "every person over forty years of age and out of shape has a complex. I do not know anyone that is okay about getting old. This detective looks more like a cheater than a Translator of Angels". Did it, or did it not?

Right then I got up and went out to the street. Even with a bunch of people talking inside the bar, and the music on, I still could feel my heart beating in my ears. It is hard to get used to this guy guessing what we were thinking.

After breathing a little I returned to the bar and sat on the stool.

— Your theory is very interesting, Clóvis, but I have a funeral at home. Maybe later...

— Look over there, Isaías — he proceeded —, that drunk man over there has an angel telling him "I will take this one for the road, and I promise I will leave right away."

I found it funny when I noticed that the damm alcoholic was talking to himself on a table to the back of the bar. It really looked like he was dominated.

— It is impossible to get these angels away from people, because they are part of their minds, and if they do get away, what remains is only loneliness: the emptiness of those without faith, imagination, personality and perspectives in life; This happens because the soul leaves the bad angel destroy the brain. I am so used to them that I see people as they had two ways of thinking. Because, unfortunately, conscience and subconscious work together. That is why I see one, but observe two, do you understand?

— So, to you, I am two?

— That is right. Soul and angel controlling the same brain, but I cannot see or hear the soul, because it is inside the individual. But I do know everything that the bad angel projects to your mind. They are almost invisible, and their molecules are smaller than an atom and exist in the intermolecular spaces of the matter; it is life in antimatter! A dimension so simplified that are incapable of being seen by our technology. They are on air, but the body structure hides in the air itself. They are like children in the middle of the crowd: you can see the crowd, but you cannot see the children.

— It is... very interesting — I said, embarrassed. — But my mother's funeral is going on at my house and I can't stay. They will think I am desecrating my mother's soul.

— Your mother went to Heaven, Isaías, and the only soul being desecrated right now, is yours.

— Okay, okay! But do you agree that I should be in my house right now?

— I agree.

— So, let's go?

João thanked God his glass counter survived. I took the detective to the hotel without difficulty, and went back home.

The poor bastard's schizophrenia returned gradually.

Do you think I would allow my thoughts to be controlled by angels? Bad angels? No way! I am aware of my sanity and it is inacceptable that any angel controls me; it is impossible that something like that happens to me or to any other human being. As soon as I have the chance, I will call the Chief of Police Jonas and will tell what is going on. He will have to deal with it!

Madalena thought it was disrespectful leaving my mother's funeral to go to a bar. If she were in my shoes, definitely, she wouldn't feel this way, but, being so ignorant, it is best not to discuss. I turned my back on her and start talking to my relatives.

Finally, exhaustion took over me and I sat down in one of the chairs close to my mother. There I could take a little nap.

#

# Sunday

It was an insipid grey morning, and it would probably stay like that for the whole Sunday. An intense mass of clouds covered the sky in such a manner that it wasn't necessary to watch the weather channel. The thunders, far away, transmitted the weather.

David was the first one of my friends to show up. He came along with the Chief of Police Jonas. It is good to have someone to talk, I just couldn't take that chitchat anymore. After the right condolences, we went to the kitchen.

— That's life — said Jonas. — Someday, we all have to make our peace with God.

— I am ready for that — I replied. — By the way, yesterday I dreamed about my mother's passing. It was weird, but, for sure, it was a warning that it was about to happen.

— You dreamed about your mother's passing? — asked David, already taking a sip of coffee a cousin of mine had made.

— Actually, I dreamed about Gabriel dying, but the dream changed... it is complicated.

I didn't want to tell the whole thing, otherwise I would have to tell about the scare the damm neighbor gave me.

— What about Tobias, is he better? — I asked the Chief of Police.

— He is conscious. The priest took responsibility for his health. The interesting thing is that he is not even interested in blaming someone for the damages in his car, that means he pardoned everyone.

— This priest is really moody.

— What about the detective, Isaias, I haven't seen him around here.

— And you won't. The poor bastard sulked at João's bar, and I had to go there and take him away.

— What happened to him?

Barely David asked the question, Jonas sharpened his ears waiting for my response. But, on second thought, I wasn't in the mood of telling that story about he seeing angels, and talking to God and all. There were so many things to tell that I didn't even know where to start. The worst of all is that they wouldn't believe me; the best was to lie.

— Clóvis was just upset about not finding the murderers.

The day continued grey until the coffin was taken. A thin rain made everyone open the umbrellas to follow the funeral.

The grave-digger was fast and a catechists invited us all to a last pray.

We got back home and sat out on the porch, thanked some of those that were still trying to comfort my family. Little by little my house was empty.

The day passed by slowly as I went from side to side without anything to do. The worst of all was to see the night falling without the sun showing up the whole day.

I sat down on a bench on the porch and observed the remaining light that made no shadow and gave no life to things; valuing even further the melancholy of someone tired of living in a world with no color or life.

From the porch I sadly contemplated the unpaved street that continued up the hill towards the aviation field.

A neighbor turned the radio on, with the sound as loud as the radio could reach, tuned in a radio station and all I could hear was a bunch of people praying and praising: "Amen!". The insects started buzzing and filling my ears with their sound. Thank God the night was falling, soon they would stop.

I tried to avoid the melancholy focusing on a man coming down the hill. It looked like the "loony detective" in his noble walk. As he got closer I had no doubt that it was him that was coming from a place that had nothing of interesting. I went up to the gate and waited for him. Clóvis seemed okay, despite of his frustration.

— Is everything okay, Clóvis?

— Yes, I am fine. I am sorry for not coming to the funeral. I was up there the whole day.

— Ok, but what were you doing up there?

— I was meditating...

What goes through his head to stay the whole day in an aviation field, wasting time meditating?

— I was meditating about life, Isaías.

I shook my head in consonance. I forgot he could read minds, or talk to angels... I don't know!

— By the way, about that story that you talk to angels ...

— Forget about it, Isaías, I was tired of my routine.

— What do you keep writing about in your diary? Is it, by any chance, related to what you told me yesterday?

Clóvis stared at me with sorrow. It was obvious that there was a connection.

— Forget what I said — he insisted. — Forget it, because it is only another interesting tale that, as many others, will remain in your mind for a short time, because you have more important things to worry about.

— Fine by me. I just asked out of curiosity.

— I see — he smiled. — Are you alone?

— No.

— May I speak to your children?

I agreed and opened the gate, however, I was a little afraid of what this detective might say. Maybe everything would get even worst. However, on the other hand, it doesn't matter. I opened the gate and got back to the chair on the porch, tolerating the buzz from the insects and the neighbors radio.

After a while, Matheus got out of the house with his head high, looking to the street as if the noises and melancholy there did not disturb him. He even greeted me to show he was fine.

— Clóvis went to your room?

— Yes, but now he is talking to Maria.

Just before I ask what the detective was doing in Maria's bedroom, he reached the porch.

— I am leaving — he said, saying goodbye to Matheus as if they were old friends. Then, Clóvis turned back to Maria with an easy-going smile and hugged her tenderly. I found it weird, because my children never showed that kind of affection towards me.

— I promise tomorrow I will return your toy — he told my daughter.

— Okay, don't worry — she said smiling.

Matheus and Maria waved to Clóvis until he was out of sight. It was amazing how happy they were. It doesn't even looked like they had just lost their grandmother.

— What toy, Maria?

— A recorder that uncle Pedro gave me.

— Why did he take it?

— I don't know!

Madalena showed up, interrupting me, and spoke as if she were the man of the house.

— We are going to the mass today. Everyone, you included, Isaias.

— Me? Why?

— Because priest Lázaro will do a honor to all women that helped in the development of our city and will talk about the recent passing: Judith and Marta.

I sighed tired. I won't even return the car to the garage, soon I will have to do another sacrifice.

Not even the rain prevented the citizens of Rio Vermelho from going to the church. I have never seen so many people in a single place. It was so suffocating that I choose to stay close to the door to stop the sweat dripping down my forehead like a spring; and the fresh air from the rain helped.

After some hymns were sing the priest showed up and made the speech about Tobias accident, without blaming anyone and without worrying about the damages to his car. The most impressionable almost cried with the rich vocabulary the priest displayed.

He spoke about the recent passing of the former-businesswoman Marta, that had a fundamental presence in the business development of the city.

And, finally, mourned the passing of the youngest catechist in town. He remembered her birthday, that would be today, and that, probably, if alive, would throw another party at her sister's house, Miss Ruth.

Then it happened: everyone crying.

I noticed Clóvis leaving before the mass ended.

Right this moment I realized I was so afflicted about my mother passing that I forgot he already knew who were Judith's killers; and my curiosity raised. I could not miss this opportunity, once he would pass by me on his way out of the church.

— Are you not going to wait for the mass to end, detective?

— Let's say it is a delicate situation. They are in here, Isaías, and I will have to confront them so that a new tragedy doesn't take place.

— Wouldn't it be best to warn the Chief of Police and let him taking care of it tomorrow morning?

— If I do not settle this problem till midnight, tomorrow will be too late. I will wait for the right time to confront them.

— I am going with you!

— No. Respect your mourning; besides, I must handle this by myself.

— Alone? Are you confronting the murderers without police help? How many are them?

— Only two, but there will be a crowd similar to the number of people inside this church to witness the ritual.

— How?

— The case is too delicate, since it is a continuity of the catechist's death. I have to go.

Clóvis left without giving further explanations. He went through the main street, where the only establishment open was João's bar.

— Let us be in peace and that the Lord be with us! — said the priest, ending the mass.

As I was already at the exit door, I had just to jump out and get into the car, waiting for the others.

After a while, Gabriel opened the door and all got in at once

I was surprised when I looked ahead and saw Abel, Moisés son, beside his brother's car door the one who had gone to the United States. He stared at me and pulled a long face until he opened the door and took off through the city's alleys.

Without thinking, I turned my car on and followed my way. The destination was my house, but I remembered the path followed by the detective; so, I changed my route.

— Where are you going? — asked Madalena.

— I have to settle something at João's bar.

— I cannot believe you are going to...

— Get off my back!

I didn't give too much attention to Madalena and parked right outside the bar, but the detective wasn't there. I thought that maybe he would be on the back and, so, I got inside the bar and faced my friends on the cracked glass counter; they were drinking as usual. But I was interested in knowing the whereabouts of the loony man.

— Have you seen Clóvis around, David?

— Yes, I did, but he didn't stay long.

— What did he want?

— He came looking for João, who was at the mass and left the bar for the waiters to manage.

— João went to the mass? — I questioned finding it weird.

— That is right. There was a rumor that the priest was going to explain to the community what happened to Tobias and that he had a nice speech in honor to Judith and Miss Marta, your mother. So, João didn't want to miss this event so special to all and he is not back so far.

— Clóvis went away without saying anything?

— He looked upset and said that he would fix it.

— Fix what?

— I don't know.

I got back to the car and left exhausted and lost with the detective's behavior. However, I wanted to forget everything, take a hot shower and relaxed on my bed.

Having said and done. I went to the bedroom still steaming from the hot water and, finally, I laid down.

Besides, Clóvis behavior continued to disturb me. That story he told me about angels easily connected to the easy ways he has read people's thoughts and mixed with the fact that he had discovered who were Judith's killers.

Twenty to midnight.

My family was already sleeping while I was still alert. My body ached in tiredness, but my brain was running high.

A buzz, similar to those of the insects in the afternoon, triggered in my mind with an intensity that made me roll from one side of the bad to the other without sleep. It was a huge mess of information going through my mind again and I couldn't control it.

I needed something to calm me down, but, where was my strength to get out of bed and look for a medicine?

If I were Clóvis, I would ask for an angel, but I am not crazy, it was best for me to do something.

Angel!

Little by little the mystery of Judith's death became clearer in my mind, as if I had created the script myself.

I remembered that Clóvis told me there were two murderers, and that there would be a crowd similar to the number of people that were in the church to witness the next murder. I connected these facts to the point of view of the detective, when he commented that he could see an individual, but observed him as if he was two, that is, there aren't two murderers, but only a man and his angel.

A man and his angel!

What about the crowd similar to the number of people that were at the church to witness the next murder, the only solution to this math problem was that the crowd would be the number of angels that accompanied the believers in the church at that time, and that could get away from their humans, because good part would be sleeping at this time. The only place in Rio Vermelho that could receive all these angels would be... oh my God!

I got up, turned the light on and went up to the wardrobe. The situation I was facing was severe: Clóvis was risking his life.

— What is going on? — Madalena said to me finding all of this odd.

— I need to act fast!

— Is there a problem?

— Wake Gabriel up. I need him, now.

— But, why are you acting like this?

I just stared at her desperately. For starters, because I couldn't explain what was going on; she wouldn't understand. Second, because time was too short. I had to take action as fast as I could or it could be too late, since it was almost midnight.

— Can you explain me what is going on, Isaías?

— I am acting like this because of Father Lázaro's angel.

— Angel?

— That is right. Lázaro's angel is not Good, instead, it is Evil!

Even at full speed on the streets, by the time I parked my car at the church square, it was already fifteen past midnight.

I got off the Variant feeling my pressure high; Gabriel accompanied me until we pushed the church door and saw Clóvis looking at the altar cross — all by himself.

I sighted in relief when I saw that my interpretations about the inevitable tragedy were wrong.

So, I contemplated the empty benches and it reminded me of my childhood, of the day I wanted to run free through the aisle and my father grabbed me by the ears, shaking me as if I were some animal.

Gabriel was flabbergasted, contemplating the room, the ceiling, the altar and the silence that played with the echo from his footsteps. I saw in his eyes that seeing the benches empty aligned and organized was something beautiful to him, as if those projections drove him to infinity. It was the first time he saw that church like this. A smile grew on his face and a feeling of freedom inspired him.

— Do you want to run around, Gabriel?

— May I?

— Of course you may.

— Won't you hit me?

— No — I laughed. — I want you to fulfill an old dream of mine: ran around this room, pretend to be an angel and let your imagination fly through every corner of this church.

Needless to repeat that, Gabriel let go off my hands and ran free.

There was no need to look down, there was nothing to stumble upon. He didn't need to care about being ridiculous, to care about the fear of getting hurt. He could run as if he was flying, lifting his arms and feeling the wind on his ears.

It didn't take long and Gabriel got closer to Clóvis, and he found it weird to see a red liquid mining from the altar's floor, right under the table.

— Father! There is blood here!

Even with the echo I understood what my son said. My surprise was inevitable; I walked fast until I reached the stairs at the altar, I checked under the table and saw the blood flowing over the wood boards. I saw, also, the shoes of someone lying down.

Clóvis got close to Gabriel and calmed him down.

— Wait outside.

— But, that is blood?

— Blood or wine? The priest leaves a wine bottle under the table and the bottle must have turned, do you understand? Let your father solve this problem and go outside and throw rocks at the pigeon until it leaves the nest.

Gabriel got out without caring much about it.

I waited until he left the church, circled the altar's table and was surprised in face of the body lying down with a revolver close to the right hand. Eyes open, dilated pupils and the blood in the mouth were signs that death had already taken that soul. One tragic shot to the mouth was fatal.

I felt a knot on my stomach when I saw the brains spread around. It was hard to understand whether it was a suicide or if someone shot and left the weapon next to the body.

A million doubts popped up in my mind: Did the detective do that? What if he is really crazy? What is he doing on the other side of the table, starring at the cross? What is he looking at? Angels? What angels? Do angels exist?

I tried to breath and wait until Clóvis took the next step, but the only thing I could see was a man that moved his eyes from one side to the other, in expectation, as if he was trying to help someone, but couldn't; he could only watch. Sometimes he looked back, observing the church benches, however looked as if the church was full.

All my doubts, the heartbeat in my ears, and the butterflies in my stomach ruined my body and my conscience. Despite of how I was shaking, what nearly kept me from standing, something inside me was telling me: trust the detective.

To ease my tension, I tried to do a recapitulation of the last week. I concluded that it was the first time in my life that I accompanied someone that was never angry at my evasive behavior or that made jokes just to laugh at my face, on the contrary, this detective smiled at my atrocities without caring about what I was saying or thinking about it, and more, he even gave me advice on how I should manage my life.

I decided to keep quiet and wait; he deserved a credit. I waited a while until he waved to a place at the top of the altar, as if he was waving goodbye. Finally, he went back to me, something that relieved me.

— It is over, Isaias. If I had gotten here last week, I would have saved this man's life.

Clóvis circled the table and looked disappointed at the priest's body. An enigmatic sight made me think I would not see the detective anymore.

We crossed the corridor on our way out; a pigeon crossed the room and rested over the cross, above Jesus Christ's right arm. She had, mysteriously, got back to its nest. We left the church observing the bird's behavior.

— I did it! I did it! — yelled Gabriel, going up the stairs and meeting us at the exit door. — It had to be done at night; she is afraid of the dark and that is why she went back inside!

— Were you throwing rocks at the pigeon? — I asked.

— Yes, I was. Clóvis told me to!

Clóvis confirmed with a smile and breathed the cold air of the rain that had just washed down the city. Contemplated the flowered church square, flexed his shoulders and head trying to relax his muscles.

Then, we went to the hotel to get the detective's backpack and, finally, we left Gabriel at home.

Madalena came up to the gates to see if her son was okay. She had never seen anyone taking a boy to a police mission, and neither did I... but that's okay. Gabriel got off the car and hugged his mother tenderly. Thank God the detective asked to go to the police station, otherwise I would have to take a piece of my wife's mind.

At the police station Clóvis started making a bunch of phone calls. One time he explained what happened at the church, and other times he created a bunch of symbols about the iconocrats or iconolats, I do not know what! I couldn't understand a single thing of what he was saying, but as soon as he ended his calls he asked me to go to a place where we couldn't be found, once the Chief of Police Jonas would be responsible for what was going to happen from this point on.

I went through Magalhães, a district distant from the city, I parked about five hundred meters from the last house and opened the car door; my brain was anxious for some oxygen.

— Are we safe here, Isaias?

— Yes, we are. After the new city entry was built, just a few people use this road, particularly at this time of night. The bus travels through here, despite of the new road the itinerary didn't change.

— So, rest a little.

— Do you really think I can rest after everything that happened?

Clóvis lowered his head for a while, as he already knew where I was going with that question.

— You were very brave out there in the church, Isaias. Further, you found out who killed Judith; definitely, you exceeded my expectations.

— What... piece of cake!

He stared seriously at me for about three seconds, and then went back to his usual laugh that was already a routine in my life. But he got serious again, fast.

— You think I owe you some explanations, right?

— Yes, I do.

— Do you want me to tell you now?

— Yes, but do me a favor: I want to know it all, every detail, including what you saw and heard inside the church.

— Do you want to know about the angels? Why?

— Because I think that no one is crazy enough to keep seeing things, and, at the same time, act so professionally as you do. Besides, I am certain that I wouldn't understand your story if you took your angels out of it. That is why I want to know everything.

The detective agreed immediately. He looked at the dark road and meditated about where he would begin to tell his story.

— Are you sure you really want to know everything, Isaias?

— Yes.

— Ok, this is what happened:

The rain didn't stop after the mass. Many people waited for it to stop to go away. I remained at an strategic point, far from the church, observing the way out of the believers and their respective angels. After this, the priest closed all doors and remained alone inside the church.

At this time I got into the church and found the priest praying in the altar. I also saw a nearly invisible being, who looked like Lázaro when he was a teenager, standing over the altar table. This was the same angel that said "I love you," at the parish house. He had his arms crossed, characterizing a look of dissatisfaction, inducing the discomfort of the present fact to the priest's mind.

I misinterpreted the behavior of that angel, I thought he was good... but this is another story.

Lázaro showed satisfaction with my coming, but I knew, by the looks of the angel, that he was faking it. I knew it would be hard to explain to the priest that he was being deceived by his own thoughts, further, deceived by an angel that followed him since the first minutes of his life, tormenting and dominating his thoughts, while he was acquiring life experience.

This angel accompanied him since childhood, until the opportunity to follow priesthood appeared. A privileged profession to someone that just could no longer bear with being just another one in the crowd. But, as time went by, he felt the thorns of priesthood. He had to study hard and needed to subjugate desire and admit celibacy. He achieved the targets proposed, however, found out that this wasn't what he wanted.

All of a young catechist came into his life, and he couldn't resist the earthly pleasures. He was finally willing to accept this love, to turn back time and restart his life, at any price. He was decided to leave the church and marry the catechist.

However, it was faith's desire that at the highest of the blind passion suspicion also appeared. He soon found out about the betrayal, and his self-esteem disappeared.

This fact, added to all disturbances induced by his angel, made him weaker. After Judith's death, the bad angel freely manipulated the priest's ego, making the feel of guilt to fall as a huge weight on his conscience.

Consequently, his angel proposed to build a new life in order to suffocate the pain that tormented him. Since it was impossible to correct the mistakes of the past, the soul was greed for grasping without hesitation any kind of solution. However, the project was audacious and should be presented carefully.

At principle, Lázaro shivered, but was persuaded to dwell in the shelter of the Most High and abide in the shadow of the Almighty, what should be his refuge and fortress, delivering him from the snare of the devil and from the deadly pestilence. The objective of this project was to confront the soul, as its final stop. Besides, there was a likelihood of meeting again and forgiving the poor lover forever and ever.

The project was, then, approved.

The world no longer seemed so hostile, since there was a hope to grab on. The unconscious pact with the angel relieved the pains and weights on his conscience. The project became real piece by piece. A new breath invaded the soul of shaken foundations, and death turned into a kind of religion.

Suicide.

"Dying to win" was the philosophy of his angel.

The conscience was lighter. And all the priest could see was the presence and the path to God.

I needed to act with caution, and Lázaro, impatient, pointed a gun at me.

He confessed the crime with the condition that I leave immediately after his story; and I took the opportunity the expose the negative side of the philosophy induced by the angel and I exposed the evil creature. Lázaro was confused with the poison he carried with him. However, his angel, who was still in control of the situation, reminded him of his commitments, making him anxious in view of the short time and the need to reunite with his love.

When it was almost midnight, the angel, over the table, lifted his arms and yelled evoking the imminence of his victory.

— It is almost time!

I looked back and observed the arrival of countless angels that went through doors and walls looking for a place to watch the show.

There were angels in the shape of athletic men, women with insinuating curves, young people with perfect faces. There were jewelry, makeup, watches and expensive clothes. Everything reflecting earthly desires of their disciples, who were sleeping at that time.

The purpose was to watch the end of the priest's life and celebrate my defeat in the useless effort of convincing the priest not to commit suicide.

I asked him to shape a young man filled with bad intentions and saw him over the table. My objective was to put the guilty of the bad things that had taken place in his life to the responsibility of this imaginary being. Lázaro accepted it, but remained suspicious. One time he pointed the revolver to the imaginary being, other time to me. Tears dropped.

At this point, he was already aware of the weakness that accompanied him, and thus, he had two paths to choose: sacrifice or resurrection. The priest became the master of his own fate; not only that, he had the power to completely change his life.

Someone had to die — there was no other option. I didn't pull back, so didn't the angel.

Lázaro, then, yelled God's name... and chose pride.

The sound of the shot echoed throughout the room, however, applauses and laughter of the angels in the room followed it, celebrating my defeat.

The angel over the table was the only one not celebrating the attitude of his disciple, because there was still one obstacle ahead: the presence of the good angel, who soon would show up. Therefore, he remained indifferent.

After a while, a soul left the body and raised stunned at the new world it was seeing. It was happy to see that the hands were almost transparent, but saddened when it noticed its own body bleeding and little by little covering the altar floor. Then, looked stunned to the church room filled with transparent beings. It was even more stunned when it looked at me and realized I could see it as well.

He verified, also, that the imaginary adolescent invented by me was in fact over the table, and rebelled at its existence. But right after he recovered his humor, because, in his mind, shortly he would meet God and his love Judith. So, he went to the front of the altar and contemplated his church filled with angels.

Suddenly, a bolt lightened the opposite side of the altar's table, and in an explosion of color, raised a child with big cheeks, curly hair and with a healthy and gracious smile on his face.

The small creature, with a simple gesture, congratulated me for trying to stop that disaster.

The priest looked at both sides of the table and found it outrageous to watch two beings that had nothing to do with him: a grumpy adolescent and a child with a contaminating happiness.

— I want to see God! — he ordered, arrogant and impatiently.

The little angel indicate that Lázaro should calm down.

— So, tell me, Lázaro — the child angel asked — what did you do to justify your way into the Heavens?

— I was a priest! — he replied.

— Very well! We always had professions in this world, having one or not doesn't mean you're in the right or wrong path.

— But I am referring to the importance of my job.

— Which is the job that is not important, then? This was your obligation, right?

Lázaro was speechless, as if he had no words to say his mind. He hardened his eyebrows and saw his reflex on the other angel, imitating him.

— Was I so bad? — he asked the angel.

— The answer had always been with you, Lázaro, face the facts and you will be free to fly.

So, he started doing a speech in his defense to demonstrate how he understood the value of goodness and what he had learned with the biblical teachings. He spoke about God as a wise man and even convicted several wickedness committed by others. "They do not know what they are doing!", he said, "and I did everything to help them!". The angel of Heaven confirmed calmly, shaking his head, as if nothing of that was new.

— You speak very well, Lázaro, but you still didn't answer my question.

— What do you want me to answer? I already spoke about God and everything I think is right. What else should I talk about?

— Talk about you. Am I asking too much?

Right this instant the main door of the church started opening.

The angels in the room turned back and were upset with the unexpected presence of two individuals in an inopportune time: you and your child.

And, when Gabriel ran through the aisle, the feeling of freedom demonstrated by him made the angels so angry that they immediately booed; and a major part of them crossed their arms, shaking heads in denial.

The angels demonstrated their disapproval in several ways: mumbling, making faces, angry eyes, noses in the air, eyebrows raised, well, every look of antipathy you could think of was present to repel the actions of the disrespectful child that was "flying" around the church.

Right this second the small angel turned to Lázaro:

— Do you understand now? These beings are responsible for the personality disorders of the human beings. The complex of inferiority, perfectionism, procrastination, narcissism, egocentrism, envy, greed and other kinds of psychological problems, are controlled by them. Including suicide! Do you understand how much this evil has infected you?

Lázaro, even terrified, pretended to be indifferent.

Gabriel soon got close to me, and when he saw the blood on the altar floor, he didn't hesitated in calling you. And you came, checked under the table, saw the blood dripping between the wooden boards, and also saw the shoes of someone on the floor.

I asked Gabriel to throw rocks in the pigeon's nest, and he left without worrying much about it; and right then the angels silenced again.

When you circled the altar table and got terrified at the body laying down, and your angel suggesting doubts about the possibility of me being the author of the crime and putting the gun at the priest's hand, among several other hypothesis that troubled your mind.

I noticed, also, when you fought back at your angel, and, that is why, I went back paying attention to the fate of the priest's soul.

— What about our answer, Lázaro, what will it be? — asked, patiently, the creature that came from Heaven. The priest answered that he was not obliged to clarify anything, particularly to such a minuscule being. He said he was honest in God's path and that he always acted pursuant to His will. He preferred to wait for the help of the one that created the heaven and earth, and hope that his transgressions and sins would be forgiven.

— I understand perfectly the magic in your words. — said the angel, with a sweet voice. — But you forget that we are fragments of this Omnipotence and that one part may not reject the other. When this happens, one of the parts must be excluded. I beg you to talk to me. I beg you to accept me as a friend. We already know who is God, we already know His Power, everyone does, but purification is essential to the approximation.

— I dwell in the shelter of the Most High, and I can do all through him who gives me strength; because the Lord is my shepherd, and I lack nothing. Since God is love, since God forgives, why keep discussing bad things?

— Do you choose pride over humility?

— I choose the presence of God.

— Even knowing that God repels pride?

— I will he humble before Him!

— What if I tell you that I am God?

Lázaro observed him from head to toe and got flabbergasted.

— But God doesn't look like you.

— How do you know in what form God revels Himself?

The angel realized that Lázaro was stubborn and lowered his head in defeat.

— I will tell God everything that happened here. And, let me tell you: He will not be happy about what I will tell him.

— So you are not God!

— Remember that God is in all places, including inside you. We are part of a Whole, as fragments of Omnipotence, but when one of these parts rejects the Whole, this part must be excluded.

At this time, the angel that was keeping the look of a grumpy teenager deformed monstrously. His fingernails turned into sharp claws. The muscles swelled, creating a plasma fire coloring his skin. His eyes opened wide and turned red, his jaw was terrifyingly prominent showing the sharp teeth. A heavy and dark snarl revealed his victory in face of the good angel.

— What is happening? — asked Lázaro, terrified.

The angel, without giving any explanation, attacked the soul and dominated it without difficulty, going back to the altar to show the others his trophy, what was shaking as an animal trying to escape while he had the strength. After celebrating, the beast prepared to the jump that would take them to the new and bizarre dimension.

I, powerless, looked back and realized that the behavior of the bad angel flowed throughout the church, making the angels present exalt. Little by little I noticed that they were also changing into monsters, as the angel at the altar. Good manners suddenly disappeared, giving room to an environment filled with horrible beings, of deformed bodies. The silence gave room to scary cries. Peace gave room to fear and aggressiveness. Then, part of them started jumping and holding to the pillars, as others were hanging from the fans hanging from the ceiling; and some others preferred to pick fights instead of applauding the priest's fate. There were sex scenes between the horrifying creatures, and also those that preferred to stay under the benches, demonstrating the faces deformed in panic watching everything. Some of them cried asking for help, as others jumped from one side to the other, as hyperactive demons.

These angels, Isaias, take over repressed feelings to weaken and dominate ignorant souls; discouraging them to be free and making them suffer unconsciously. I watch all this clearly, but I do not know how to cure humans from this evilness.

I noticed that the good angel preferred to stay a little longer; usually they do not watch this ending. Just before this monster jumped, the angel raised his hand, making the other one wait a little longer.

— Do you want a second chance, Lázaro?

— Yes! I beg you! What must I do so that I am not taken?

The good angel proposed him to be reborn, in another place, in another life. His past would be completely forgotten and he would be evaluated again in a new life.

Lázaro immediately accepted.

The demon hesitated for a while, but let the soul over the table and stared at it harshly. An unpleasant sound of a snarl was heard so that that soul could understand that they would meet again. After a jump to the middle of the room, crossing the floor of the main aisle of the church made the terrifying creature to disappear completely.

Lázaro, relieved for not being at the claws of the profane creature, thanked my support and asked me forgiveness for not hearing my advices.

So I waved to the angel and Lázaro's soul, which defragmented slowly.

I was so happy with the initiative of the Lázaro's good angel, and since there was nothing else to watch, I turned my attention to you.

What happened later you already know: We took my backpack at the hotel, we left Gabriel home, we went through the police station for the telephone calls needed, and now we are here.

Did you understand, Isaias?

— Kind of. The only thing I may say for sure is that if I could see these angels as you do, I would already have committed suicide.

— It is like that. In the beginning, I nearly wanted to die than going through what I am experiencing.

— How can you sleep at night, detective?

— I close my eyes and sleep; as time went by I got used to them. Talking about sleeping, I think we should get some rest. What do you think?

I agreed with him.

It took me a long time to sleep. It was too much information to take. Even so, I napped a little.

# 

# Monday

Yeah, certain things in this world only happen to me!

Only I know how much my back hurts for sleeping inside the Variant, out of town, on the dirt road that the mayor insists in not reforming, and waiting for the bus, that never leaves on time. Not to mention my regret about going out to help the detective and facing myself with the priest's body, who suddenly had committed suicide. But that is ok; it could be worse.

Clóvis woke up and got off the car to stretch himself. Certainly his back was aching. I, also, didn't want to stay seated in the uncomfortable seat of the Variant, and I took the chance to adjust my body. He took the chance and thanked for my presence at the church, saying that the idea was genius, but rejected the fact that I had taken Gabriel to fulfill a dream that was mine. "Your dreams must be fulfilled by you!", he said. But I didn't think it would look good for a forty-five year-old big belly grown man to be running around the church. This would look ridiculous.

The sun was still shy; the fog was covering the swamp and the wind was blowing cold, but the cold air didn't disturb me. I breathed, stretched my arms, and watched the birds singing in the trees around us.

He got the backpack out of the Variant and remained waiting for the bus. He'd made his decision to leave and didn't care about the hell in which the city was in.

— Why do you need to leave exactly today?

— Because I said I was going to leave on Monday, remember?

— You have to give a lot of explanations about Lázaro's death. There are reporters all around looking for you and it is likely that the army is also here!

— Don't overreact! — he smiled.

The noise of the bus echoed through the mountains. I wasn't happy about the detective leaving the city to rot. He is a professional and shouldn't leave the case right when people needed most his help.

Suddenly, I felt the urge of stopping and think about many things at the same time, and this made a pain rise in my chest, as if my soul was feeling sick, lonely. Clóvis was apprehensive, looking around me.

— Finally, we are alone! — he said. — It is a bad feeling, but sometimes it happens.

I noticed that he was surprised when looking over the Variant's ceiling; a smile showed up in his face, because his eyes should be looking at something really good. I turned to understand what he was looking at, but all I could see was the car.

Before the bus got there, I asked about what he had seen when my mother had died, on the top of the ambulance.

Clóvis said that he had seen Marta and understood the value of life when he realized that she underappreciated her own body due to the vice. She could have lived more and suffered less. Before leaving, she asked Clóvis to open my mind, so that I didn't go through the same path she did.

— Your mother was forgiven — the detective explained. —Right at that last instant, she admitted all mistakes and redeemed herself in time. The curious thing is that at no time she referred to you by your name, but she called you Zinho.

— Zinho?

My memory travelled back in time, about forty years, when I was a child and had a fight with her asking her to not call me like that anymore. Marta really stopped calling me Zinho, but it was unbelievable that she never forgot it.

My crying got stuck in my throat, while my childhood memories took back a few moments of joy I had with my mother. I wanted to know more about what she had talked about with the detective, but the bus was getting closer.

— Stay, Clóvis, there is a bunch of things you have to do in town. It will not help you run away like this. They will be looking for you until they find...

— My priority is the case of the iconoclast, Isaias, if I stay, I will not solve this problem as planned.

Finally, the bus showed up on the curve and the detective waved. He took a recorder he had in his jacket and ejected the tape.

— I took this recorder from your daughter; tell her it was very useful and give her a hug from me. The tape is for the Chief of Police, Jonas, who must be crazy looking for you.

— Did you recorded Father Lázaro's last words?

— Yes. It revealed almost everything. Changing the subject, I tried to talk to João, the bar owner. I went there yesterday, after I left the church, but the waiters told me he had gone to the mass and they didn't know when he was going back.

— And what did you want with João?

— Tell him not to wait for Abel to pay for the cracked glass counter.

— It was Abel who broke it?

— Yes. He should have been drunk and hit that glass so strongly that the result is obvious. He was lucky that the glass did not break entirely. João is waiting for him to go back to the bar and pay for fixing it, but for what I've seen, Abel will not be in that bar ever again.

— So, this explains why the two of them stared so hard at each other on Wednesday.

The bus stopped spreading a thick smoke from the exhaust pipe that involved us. Clóvis hugged me saying goodbye and raised the thumb to the ceiling of my car; certainly there was an angel there. He got in the bus and sat down in the first row.

— I disagree! — I yelled due to the noise of the engine.

— Disagree with what? — questioned out the window.

— About my mother. She didn't go to heaven because she redeemed her sins but because of her love. Details are important, Clóvis, and Marta, even committing a lot of mistakes, had love in her heart. She was redeemed because of this love.

The detective gulped. He seemed ashamed of, despite being wise, not understanding what he was talking about. He only waved and left.

Poor Clóvis.

Despite of being a Translator of Angels, he will never get anything if he doesn't know how to predict. The prediction reaches men's mind, while the celestial language of angels escapes our understanding. He will never be useful if his words are not related to a revelation, science, teaching or prophecy. If his mind is not expressed in intelligible words, who can understand it?

Now I know why he is afraid of looking into the mirror and finding out that his knowledge is limited; that he is only part of a whole; consequently he has a superficial relationship, apart from the others, like an arm that gets loose from the body, judging himself as superior to the rest, inhibiting his love for another and its importance to the whole. His faith may be stronger than any sword, and his hope may last more than rocks. However, while he doesn't find out that between faith, hope and love, love is the most important thing, his struggle will be in vain.

Love is moved for a reason, and no human being has ever been able to describe its mysteries. Love is benign, is patient, it doesn't rejoice on injustice, but it rejoices on the truth. Therefore, translating the celestial language doesn't give the capacity to a person to help anyone or the whole world. Even if he speaks the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, it would be like the smoke coming from the exhaust pipe of this bus that pollutes the roads as it rides — will be consumed by the air — I am nothing.

I think I've read this somewhere.

When riding through that abandoned road, I almost hit a black car coming from the town. Its speed of the vehicle was incompatible to the terrain; and I've never seen someone in such a hurry; it was so fast that it could have hit the back of the bus.

After that, I drove back to the church square.

There was so many people in the middle of the street that I was forced to wait them get out of the way of my car. The place was infested by rubberneckers, police officers and reporters.

The Chief of Police Jonas saw when I arrived and ran towards me, hanging on my car window and wanting to know what had happened.

— Good morning, Chief!

— Good morning my ass! Where is the detective?

— Oh!... Clóvis? — I said cynically. — Got up on the bus and left.

— Everyone of his division where he works is here looking for him, and they are not pleased.

I felt like saying "so what?", but I realized that the reporters and rubberneckers opened up to two high class characters to get near me, and women with golden hair, of about forty years old, accompanied by an evil looking man, wearing shirt and tie, staring at me.

— You must be Isaías — the woman said.

— You got that right.

— You are the one that accompanied detective Clóvis in this case, right?

— Exactly. What a great work we did!

— A tragedy, that is what you did! — she snarled. — Where is the detective Clóvis?

— He'd just left in the bus.

— You are kidding me — she said. — Get off the car and follow us!

The man opened my car door and made me follow him with a single look. I had no choice other than follow them inside the church, where only authorized people could get in. I noticed that Lázaro's body was still in the same place, because there were some people behind the big table discussing and looking to the floor. David, the prison guard, was outside controlling the entrance of the experts.

When we were far away from the ears of the others and away from the reporters, the grumpy woman stared at me again.

— I am Noêmia, inspector of the homicides division. This is detective César. I will be straight to the point: tell me where Clóvis is, and I promise you will remain here in this God forsaken place, without anyone after you.

— Well, as I said before, he left to the capital.

— That is bullshit!

— Look, inspector, we had a hard week, believe me. I spent almost the whole night awake due to this suicide.

— Why aren't you resting, then?

— Because I have to give a tape to the Chief of Police.

— Give him what?

I took the tape from my pocket and showed it to her. Her look of disgust demonstrated that Noêmia saw me as some caveman, so archaic I was.

— Believe me, inspector, Clóvis went away because he has a battle against a so called icono... icono... icono...

— Iconoclast, you ignorant! — Noêmia said angry. — There is no battle between them. I almost died because of the mess he made, and here you are talking to me about a battle? You are definitely lying!

Detective César observed David's curiosity, who was at the door, but with his sharp ears on our conversation. Then, the detective called him to know which were the buses that left Rio Vermelho, and David replied that there were two; one to Belo Horizonte and another to the city of Cerro. So, Noêmia asked me in which bus Clóvis did got in, and I replied that it was the bus to Belo Horizonte.

The blond dyed woman and César looked at each other wickedly and concluded that they would go to Cerro, despite of me insisting that he didn't went there. They left without further explanation.

I left the church and saw a bunch of people at the square that didn't know what was going on. The police had closed the church prohibiting the entrance of rubberneckers. In the middle of the crowd people yelled: "Isaías, is the priest ok?", while others only waved at me asking to get closer. Certainly they wanted to know the same thing. The catechists light some candles and placed them on the corners of the church. Others kneeled down and prayed.

A chopper flew close to the palm trees and disappeared behind the church towers. I've never seen that so close to me; the noise was like in the movies.

Worst of all is that I had to deliver the detective's tape to the Chief of Police and put up with the endless inquiry of the entire police department. I noticed that Jonas and a team of the Civil Police was coming my way. So I had two ideas.

I went down the stairs, went through the crowd without giving information to the rubberneckers that were trying to stop me and I got in my Variant. I pulled away, got in the alley where Judith used to live and turned right, which was not the way to my house. I speeded up and turned right again, getting in an alley that would leave me on the street that takes to the church square. But I got in another alley and followed towards the hotel. I went in an alley at the side of a sports court and ended up in a street that took to the bar. Even someone from the city couldn't chase me with a maneuver such as this.

I looked back and didn't see anyone behind. I was happy; the first idea went ok.

The second idea was a momentary inspiration and should be put into practice urgently, because if I would leave it for later I would lose my nerves.

The fact that I would never have the presence of my mother made me value the absence of someone that was isolated for too long in a place that had already started its countdown for its own end. Maybe Clóvis was right when he told me that the meaning of life was death, because it is right now, when I lost someone, that I am feeling like valuing things that I still have.

I parked in front of the rest home and took a deep breath. When I got in, I saw a man watering a tomato plant, despite of the rain in the previous night.

— Good morning, dad!

He pretended he didn't listen to me and continued watering.

— Look, dad, Matheus, your grandson, works as a waiter, but I believe he can be much more than this. I intend to reopen the store that was yours and turn it into a supermarket, leaving Matheus to manage it.

— It is not going to work — he said, without at least thinking about it. — Besides, you do not have money to reopen the store.

— Yes, I do. I can sell my house and my car, so I will have the money to any venture.

— And where are you going to live?

— On the top of the supermarket, I mean, at your house.

— You will walk around without a car?

— I walk on foot. Rio Vermelho is not that big.

Mr. Jacinto pulled a face, shriveling his mouth, and tried to change subject:

— What is going on in this town?

— Father Lázaro committed suicide.

He raised his eyebrows, but remained indifferent.

— If you have everything, what do you need me for?

— Matheus is very clever, but he will need someone with experience on his side.

— So, I will have to leave this place?

— Yes, you are. We will live together in your house and stay together to raise this venture. I invest my capital, Matheus his work and creativity and you, Sir, invest your experience.

— This is not going to work.

I explained the steps we should follow to fulfill this project. He paid attention, but shook his head negatively.

— This is not going to work — repeated.

— We only will know that if we try. I spoke to Matheus and I will return soon so that we may live together, as we never did before.

He didn't reply. Maybe he didn't understand what was going on. The important thing is that I had the courage and got it off my chest; something that I never did before. It would be best to give him some time to think about that, and later on resume the conversation to something more detailed. So, I asked for his blessing and left him thinking about a new future

I got in the car and pulled away toward the square. My intention was to deliver the tape to the Chief of Police. But, suddenly, I got curious and kept thinking about what the priest and the detective talked so much before the suicide. Would it be wrong to hear the tape before giving it away? I don't think so, because no one will know if I don't tell and, on the other side, if I give it away now, I will never know what really happened. The opportunity couldn't be better.

I parked in front of a vacant lot, looked around — there was no one — the houses were also closed. I put the tape on the car stereo and raised the volume nearly to the top. What I heard, at principle, was the noise of steps, several steps. Probably of Clóvis crossing the church room.

*****

− What an honorable visit! Detective Clóvis in my church! Too bad I am doing my final pray and I'll be leaving soon. However, if you came to talk about the accident with Tobias, I told you, I already forgave everyone and I'm not interested in fixing the car.

− Sad words, Father Lázaro: "my final pray and I'll be leaving soon". With this kind of thinking, who would be interested in material goods? Having or not a car doesn't make any difference, right?

− What are you doing here, after all?

− I came to talk about a change in behavior. Because, to someone that attacked a group of evangelicals three weeks ago, stopping them from performing an event on the square, there was a harsh change in personality.

− I have the duty to defend my religion.

− Which one? The current one or the conventional?

− What are you talking about?

− I am talking about the conversion you undertook along this last week.

− Conversion? What conversion?

− That is right, Lázaro.

− I don't know what you're talking about!

− But I do, and I am here to help you. I want to clarify the facts and avoid you from falling in disgrace.

− You know nothing about my life, mister.

− You are wrong, Lázaro, I know more about your life than you do.

− Who are you to know me better than I do? Leave my church and never come back!

− Ok! I may leave, but before I want to tell you something.

− What is it?

− I know who killed Judith. Let's say that the fatality occurred within the parish house and that our character had the whole night to clean all traces incriminating him. Even so, the worst part still had to be taken care of: how to get rid of Judith's body? Call the private driver and leave her somewhere out of town? No; no one should know about what happened, not even Tobias. Say that it was an accident inside the parish house? No; it is impossible to explain the presence of the catechist so late at night without giving rise to assumptions. Leave the body at the church square? No; someone could suspect of our character. So, he remembered of the incident between Josias and Judith, when the so called sorcerer made death threats. The opportunity that seemed the only way to get away with it appeared, once Josias already had a bad reputation. Then, our character took the body to the yard, put it on the floor and made a hexagonal star on the mud around her, creating a dreadful scenario, which would incriminate the sorcerer. However, how the murderer would enter the yard, because, without the key, how would he go through the back gate? It would be best to fake a forced entry. It was exactly what our character did: he opened the gate, went outside and locked it again. He had to gave a good distance to knock the gate down, but he went only up to the curb, leaving muddy footprints in the several attempts, until the gate was knocked down. Now the scene was perfect; it was time to leave. He crossed the yard, put his foot on the first step of the thick cement stairway and felt the mud in his shoes. Stopped, reflected and concluded that it wouldn't be right to go up the rest of the stair with the dirty shoes, once it would incriminate him. So, he took off his shoes on the first step and proceeded barefoot. He was relieved when he calculated that the rain could erase the traces, and who came to investigate could conclude that the footprints on the sidewalk appeared after the sorcerer leaving the body in the yard. Then, he realized that the scene was not so perfect, because if an investigator observed in detail, he would find out that the mud on the wooden gate knocked down was the same found in the yard, and would conclude that the murderer did everything from inside out, stepping first on the yard and later on the sidewalk and then knocked down the gate. Our character, then, to destroy this evidence, asked the carpenter, known as Moisés, to get rid of the gate. Aware that the carpenter was superstitious, presumed that he would destroy the wood remainders immediately, performing a true destruction of evidence.

− This is outrageous! I can sue you for this, did you know, detective?

− But you won't, for the fact that you are more concerned in putting an end to the troubles in your soul.

− I don't know what you are talking about!

− I am talking about your regret of being a priest and about your need to destroy the past, but it is no longer the past that will be destroyed, it is you. I know you are thinking about suicide, Lázaro, but all you will get is ruin if you opt for this path.

− That is enough! You are a detective and your job is to investigate things. But now it is too late. I say this because only God can help me. Go away, or I will shoot you!

− Isn't it weird a priest praying and holding a revolver? Honestly, I am baffled with this evil controlling you. Let it go, Lázaro, tell me what really happened. I promise I will help you. You can overcome this problem. I know you can.

− Only God can help me now.

− Let this, then, be your last act in life here on Earth, please, tell me what happened between you and Judith.

− This doesn't make any difference now.

− There are still people that see you as an example to be followed and, despite of your sad fate, they need to understand what is going on with your heart. You cannot leave them.

− I do not have time for explanations.

− What if they try to follow your path? Would you want this for them? It is long before midnight, Lázaro, we have plenty of time.

− What?

− You intend to kill yourself on Judith's birthday, as the highest proof of your love, isn't it? Your anxiety demonstrates it, and I know what it means.

− Go away, detective, leave me alone!

− There will be no peace if I leave, but I promise to leave if you lower this weapon and talk to me.

− I'd rather kill you!

− Would you go to heaven if you killed anyone else? Would God forgive you for so many atrocities? What do you have to lose, once you think of leaving?

− This is not your business!

− It is your choice, then. You either tell me or kill me.

− I will tell you, as long as you disappear afterwards.

− Please, tell me. That is all you have to do.

Judith accepted to be a voluntary to teach catechism and demonstrated a calling for it. The young people in town learned a lot from her, who, with time, gained the trust of all. However, her beauty seduced me; and she noticed it. She started to extend her services late at night. Sometimes, we were alone, and Judith, deliberately, took her blouse off, enhancing her seducing body. Her inviting smile gave me the shakes. She always touched my hands with second intentions. Her piercing look hurt me. Her perfume put me in ecstasy and her shape stuck in my mind when she said goodbye. Until one day, I could no longer control my impulses and I took her in my arms like an animal that obeys the most primitive instincts.

Months went by and I got used to making love to her. I even gave her one of the huge keys that open the door to the parish house to ease her way in.

The problem is that she was engaged to Samuel, Moisés' son, the carpenter. Unfortunately, he came looking for her for some reason, out of the time of catechism classes. Samuel opened the living room door and caught us.

Weeks later he went to the United States, leaving everything he had behind to his family, without telling anyone the reasons for his sudden departure.

Finally, despite of everything, it was just me and her. After we were caught, we started seeing each other more passionately.

Our intimacy increased abundantly in a voluptuous manner. We made promises of eternal love. We dreamed of a paradise and involving future. She called me her "charming prince" and caressed me as the most experienced women ever did. Seducing voice. Seducing body. Perfumes and kisses... I fell in love in a way that it was impossible to run away. Throughout this whole time, I built my true happiness, until I reached the conclusion that I should give up my function. So, we sworn to turn our promises into reality, and consummate our love, far from here.

However, last month there was a party at Magalhães, in a district out of town, and Tobias, my driver, took me there to celebrate a mass. On this day, however, Tobias couldn't resist and drank. I had the mission to help him with his alcoholic problem, but I just had to turn my back and he went on drinking. I had to drive the jeep on our way back home, because he had no conditions at all.

And, even with little experience, I got to town. But the engine died on me on my way down the street, I turned off the lights so that the batteries wouldn't die also. I proceeded this way until the speed bump, close to the corner of Judith's home alley, and it reminded that I didn't see her at the party at Magalhães.

I went over the huge speed bump, started the engine and turned the lights on. At that moment, when the light invaded the alley, I saw a shadow entering in a hurry on the porch of Judith's house. It was small, that is all I saw.

I thought about going back to make sure of what I saw, but I am not a good driver, and I was also afraid that Tobias would wake up. I decided to drive him home, park the car and return on my feet.

While I returned through the streets with little light, my head filled with bad feelings. The possibility of someone being in bed with her at the time made me desperate me, making my heart beat fast in anguish that I could hear it in my ears.

I followed my way and got inside the dark alley. The low gate at her house was open, and the entrance door also. I walked without making any noise until I was almost with my head inside, in the opening at the door. I heard whispers that came from her bedroom and I felt a pain deep in my soul; I didn't want to believe in what was happening to me.

I forced myself to get in to confirm my suspicion, and pushed the door carefully, however, the hinges squeaked loudly, silencing the whispers coming from the bedroom. I firmed my hand on the knob trying to stop the noise, but it was too late — they had heard it. I heard the steps of someone coming and ran away to avoid a confrontation.

Days went by and I was restless.

I had to get back to what I were before. Worst. I had to get back to what I no longer wanted to be: a priest. I jumped from body and soul in my obligations to cover the wounds made by a woman that I blindly and deeply loved.

I was so furious with what I've seen that I confess that I laid my rage on the poor evangelicals performing their cult at the church square. I almost dismissed Tobias, my driver, because he took the car without my permission to help his mother. She had twisted her ankle on the fall of Josias at her feet, when they were leaving the square. Since I had a commitment to make him stop drinking, I let him stay.

I did everything to chase away bad thoughts from my mind with continuous work. To stop her from getting inside the parish house, I was leaving the key on the lock, obstructing it and stopping anyone who tried to open the door from outside, once she also had a copy of the key.

Until one rainy Sunday, about three weeks ago, the church was open until later because several of my followers opted for waiting the rain to stop. Judith was there, and I didn't even want to look at her. So, I asked for one of the catechists to lock the doors of the church after everyone left, and I went away in a hurry.

In my bedroom I turned the lights off and laid down, sure that this nightmare would eventually end. I was surprised by the lights turning on mysteriously; it was then that I saw the woman that turned my life in a hell laid against the door, as a framed picture.

She was prettier than ever. Her hair wet, lipstick, perfume, light skin, honey eyes, thin nose and filled up checks were attributes to the most perfect face I've ever seen in my whole life, and it was an invitation to the burning fire consuming me uncontrollably. However, behind all that beauty, there was a demon. The memory of her betrayal was stronger than my will to make love to her.

The problem is that on that day I forgot to leave the key on the lock to stop her from opening from outside, and she wouldn't miss the opportunity.

— How could you get in here?

— You are the one that wanted this way, remember? — she said, showing me the huge key.

— I refer to your nerves!

— My nerves are our nerves! — she laughed getting close to the bed.

— Stop!

I got up and put on my robe. She looked at me as if she didn't understand and tried to give a hug, but I pushed her away.

— What is going on, Lázaro?

— Go away, now!

She pulled a poor girl face and said she was coming every night to see me, but that she couldn't open the door because of the key in the lock from the inside.

— Why are you acting so rude to me? — she whined.

I turned my back on her, went down the stairs and waited for her by the door on the way out. Judith came walking slowly, sliding her fingers on the rail until she touched the wooden sphere adorning the beginning of the stairs and stopped on the last step. I pointed the way out, however, she didn't want to go.

So I explained her what I've seen at her house at the night I was coming from the party at Magalhães. I told her everything, in detail. Judith was shock and was breathing as if she had just got scared.

— But I was also at the party...

— Liar!!! — I yelled — Because if you were, you wouldn't allow Tobias to get drunk. I had to get back driving the car, did you know? Many people came to help and, if you were there, you would have seen this.

— I had so many things to do...

— And you think I didn't look for you? Who was keeping you so busy?

— You are making me nervous!

— You are nervous because you have a guilty conscience. Go away and never come back!

— Please, Lázaro, don't do this to me!

— You are sick, Judith, go on and live your goddamm life without including me into your adventures.

— You cannot leave me right on the time I need your support the most.

— Support?

— I had an incident with Josias, and he made me weird threats. People say he is a sorcerer and that he put a curse on me. My life is at risk, and I need someone to protect me.

— Go pray! That is what you need.

— This is not fair, Lázaro, look at me! Do you think I have the guts to cheat you?

— You cheated your fiancée with me, that is a sign that you have the guts to do a lot.

— It is different now, my prince charming. I love you too much! You know that.

— To hell your love! And stop calling me prince charming.

— What about our projects about leaving here? Of us becoming husband and wife. What about our children?

— How could you be so cynical?

I grabbed her by the arms and took the key from her hands. I tried to open the door to throw her out, but she freed herself and got away.

— I am not leaving like this. You cannot allow our relationship to die because of a misunderstanding.

— The door will be open, Judith, and I am going up to my bedroom. I want you to leave without taking the key and never come back to disturb me.

I turned my back and started going up the stairs, but she grabbed me by the robe, stopping me.

— I love you, Lázaro!

I freed myself with rough gestures and pushed her away. We started another argument. Judith cried like a spoiled child, saying she was innocent. I remained indifferent and continued going up the stairs without mercy.

— I love you! — she yelled. Her wish to hug me was more than inconvenient.

In the middle of the stairs she grabbed me again by my back, and I, angry, tried to free myself from her arms harshly. It wasn't easy to get free from her gripe. Judith yelled "I love you" without even taking a breath. When I freed myself, she lost her balance and fell back, hitting the back of her head on the wooden sphere at the beginning of the handrail. The sound of her fall scared me, I turned and saw her body lying down, having a convulsion. The blood started flowing from her head, mouth and nostrils.

I tried to bring her back, but I realized that her neck had broken on the fall. There was no time to take her to the hospital... and the rest, it was exactly as you said, that is, I cleaned everything and left her body at the yard to incriminate the sorcerer.

However, detective, I don't think it is possible to anyone to believe in this story. For sure you will not be able to take this process any further.

− Unless, Lázaro, you have worn gloves to open her mail chest so that no fingerprints would be left.

− You are a great detective! I really didn't think anyone would assume that I would cross the square, on that same tragic night, to return the parish house key to her bedroom. The place I chose was weird, indeed, but, taking into consideration that the chest key was hidden, that would be the ideal place so that no one notice that she needed to go frequently to the parish house, and so, I would be even further not accounted as a suspect. So, I removed the pins from the hinges, opened the chest by its opposite side, threw the key in and left, leaving everything as it was. In this case you win, because my fingerprints remained in that chest.

− What moves me in your revelations, Lázaro, is the jovial tone of your talk. By any chance, do you still hold any resentment from your adolescence?

− What does it has to do with anything?

− I say this because that young adventurer remains with you, did you know?

− You know nothing about my life. I did what you wanted. Now leave.

− You didn't kill Judith. It was an accident.

− I know this. You can't imagine how my conscience is clear.

− So, can you explain to me how this "I love you" disturbs you so much? Would it be the voice of your conscience or of your affliction?

− She is calling me, detective, I hear these words on my mind. This reminds me of how sad her death was. This makes me aware that it is my fault.

− This voice deceives you, Lázaro, to the point that it does anything to you.

− So, allow my fate to be happy.

− This is an easy path to walk. Do you know where it is heading?

− I am going to Heaven! I know this because today's mass was a celebration to the forgiveness of our sins. I prayed to Judith and I to be forgiven by the Most High, and I know that God took her to a place where we will be happy for all eternity.

− What about your past, your mistakes and frustrations. Were they forgiven?

− I don't want to know about my past, the present is what matters. What prevails is the vision that God has of me now.

− But if you forgave Judith, you should, then, forgive yourself for your own agony, because, whether you want it or not, this is also part of your life, as if you were betraying yourself.

− I don't have to do this!

− There is nothing hidden that cannot be revealed, and there is nothing hidden that cannot be acknowledged.

− Do not compare me to the impious man, detective. I am not wicked; I do not talk about peace with wickedness in my heart. I know that God will be merciful to my mistakes, and will not remember my sins, releasing me from the heavy burden of guilt.

− If He can do all of this, why are you limited to forgive your own actions?

− This is not your business!

− Of course not. I am just asking you to acknowledge your own flaws. Why don't you want to do this?

− Because I don't see why.

− Don't see why or don't see the danger around you?

− I am aware that there is no danger around me.

− What if God asks you about that young man you were once and asks you to explain about him? Let's assume that this rebel were here, on the table, with the dissatisfaction of an adventurer that made his professional choice, but that now brings the regret on his face. Imagine that he wanted to be someone that could be seen and cheered by all, because he always been just another one in the crowd and could no longer live with such insignificance. Today, after achieving everything he ever wanted, he revolts for not having obtained the happiness so desired, with the desire to reach higher steps with the purpose of suppressing the ambition taking over him. Look over the table to your right, Lázaro, look at how it consumes your soul until you have no option other than hearing him. The only thing you hear is this blind "I love you", as if he wanted to take you to the pain of the guilt for which he is the sole responsible.

− This way, then, I would tell God that I take the blame, from body and soul.

− Would you forgive him for handling you this entire time? Try to remember of the dissatisfaction that accompanied you at the times of betrayal! Who prepared the fantasies that only served to disturb you? Who induced you to go to Judith's house, convincing you that you would not sleep tight if you did not settled the doubt about what you've seen on the alley? Can't you see that it was the same young man that made you fall for Judith? Can't you see that he manipulated you, making you desire this make-believe world where your happiness would be guaranteed?

− I do not believe in these things.

− Right now he is telling you about the urgency of time, and you're thinking about this. "The time is upon me, I need to go!". Are you sure that you will be able to forgive all evil he's done to you? Be sure that you will not, Lázaro, and do you want to know why? Because it is him that you wish to kill. Him is the one that deserves a shot to free your soul, however, this young adventurer is taking you to destroy your body, your flesh, as if it were you that should die instead of him.

− I am an ordinary man and I know that God...

− You do not have to punish yourself! Where is your capacity to overcome? What about your gift? What about the power of your words?

− I no longer belong to this world.

− Do you wish to go to Heaven with this thinking? This is why God created you?

− (Sobbing).

− Let me help you, Lázaro, come with me and I...

− Stay where you are!

− Ok! Please, put your gun down. I just want you to understand that time is upon you, and you must make a decision.

− I must stay to decide my fate.

− So you must kill someone. The choice is yours. The only thing I can do is inform you of the disturbances. You will decide who stays and who goes, but if you wish to stay, I ask you to remember all the bad things that this young man standing on the table made you go through... and shoot him.

− How do you know so much about me?

− I know because I understand how it is to be in your shoes. I just need to take your pain and put it on me. Point the gun at him, Lázaro. Ignore the damages to the walls, ignore this religious obsession, ignore time, and kill this young man.

− (sobbing).

− Order him to never say "I love you" again. Point the gun, Lázaro. That is it, very good! Forget about your crying and try to see him. See the pain caused by him. Watch him with the half-closed eyes, crossed arms, cheering for the worst. That is it! Put all your hatred on this evil being and say what you want right this instant.

− I want... I want... to kill him.

− Exactly. You want him to get out of your life and never come back again to mess with you. That is what you want, right?

− Right.

− So, shoot him, Lázaro, do what your heart tells you to!

− But, this will do no good.

− You have to try to see if it works! Be brave, Lázaro, shoot him.

− What about Judith?

− Your life first!

− What about me?

− Be the power you have always been and God will show you the way. Set yourself free! Show the angels the power of your faith, and make the Heavens applaud you for your noble and wise attitude!

*****

A brief silence... and the priest screamed God's name in a terrifying way, but the sound of the shot silenced him.

I was flabbergasted when the recording ended and changed, immediately, to one of the Beatles songs: the damm detective recorded the priest's suicide on my favorite tape — son of a...!

With all the tapes in the world, why mine? What if the street seller didn't have another one like that to sell? What if I...

Well, it was about time for me to make an adult decision and stop running away from myself. What did I get with this terrible life philosophy? What did I get so far?

Enough of waiting for life to happen according to my intentions, I will start building my own way and make life happen!

# Two Years Later

(Conclusion)

I was seating at the service area at my father's house. To rest my eyes from reading a good mythology book I gazed upon the late afternoon changing the colors of clouds as the sun set.

It was funny to know that the ancient Greeks believed that a carriage drove the sun from one side to the other, and that to them the world wasn't round, but flat like a record disk. I am glad these mysteries have been solved.

Actually, what I really wanted to read was the book that Clóvis wrote. The mailman, yesterday afternoon, delivered a book "Studies on Psychangelogy" and a letter attached, which I read first. I confess I was impressed by what I read.

Clóvis is very happy, he wrote, and one of the reasons for his happiness is that he was cured of the angels seeing thing, which disturbed him so much on these last seven years. The cure came with a new meeting he had with God, who granted him the opportunity of giving up his Mission. He opted, then, for giving up, once he had merits, and he was humble enough to accept that it was sufficient enough. He knew very well how to put in words his happiness and wrote how he saved a soul, but it was God that gave him the news about that beforehand, because up to that point he didn't know anything about it. The soul that was save from the way to hell was mine — I was safe!

I cried.

There is something that the detective Clóvis said that I will never forget, that a cold sun has cold planets, and a hot sun has its planets hot. It is an obvious metaphor, but today I know how much a different energy can change the world around us.

I sold my house and my car and got the money to reopen the store.

I got my father out of the rest home and brought him to live with my family. He had doubted of my venture, but, when he saw the success of the opening of the store and the number of customers that the establishment had right on the first month, he was excited. Since he didn't forget the friendships he created at the rest home, he conciliated the time helping Matheus with his experienced business advices and his walk up to the old home to see his friends and take care of his tomato plant.

Matheus showed a great agility as manager, despite of being young. He understands well the grandpa's advices and has a notable view on how to attract more customers. I had my self-esteem high when I saw my son walking around at the church square holding hands with Eva, the Mayor's daughter. But let me be clear that now I only have eyes to my beloved Madalena, the woman of my life.

Madalena was not prepared for these changes, particularly so sudden. Our conversations were important so that I could show her the need to fight for a better life and look at life with less skepticism. Little by little, she broke her barriers and became a great ally. She learned how to balance her meal, lost weight and did as I was doing: I feel much better now that my belly is gone!

Maria see me more as a friend than as a father; and I do everything I can to help her clearing the confusions at the beginning of adolescence.

Gabriel is my fan. He loves when we hang out on the porch gazing at the sky and tell him stories about constellations, planets, lunar phases and things I learned on the mythology book.

After hearing the Beatles tape that reproduced the discussion between the priest and the detective, I went to the church square and gave it to Jonas, the Chief of Police, that together with other professionals analyzed the tape. They concluded that it was a premeditated suicide, that detective Clóvis tried at all costs to avoid it. And the case was closed as such.

The reporters started leaving town right after they got the information that they should broadcast, until everything calmed down and Rio Vermelho went back to what it was.

A new priest came to replace temporarily the suicide priest, but he is in town for two years now.

Analyzing the behavior of human beings, I got to the conclusion that we try to live as if we were the only ones and that there is no one else like us in the world, but in reality, everything repeats itself. Everything is the same. For generations the human beings copy human beings. The worst of all is finding out that this doesn't takes us anywhere, or nearly nowhere.

Thinking this way, I really changed myself, accepting the truth that I am made out of dirt and the only difference is that God gifted me with the conscience of seeing other things.

Meditating about the fundamental values of life, I slowly created a new philosophy, perfecting my personality that, before, I believed to be perfect and that now I knew was so full of imperfections. This transformation was so clear that many people saw the differences and acknowledged my recent qualities. That is so true that I received an invitation to run as a candidate on the next elections by a political party... and I accepted it.

I learned to do my part to ease the suffering of the others. I started walking more, to observe better the nature, to hear what people had to say. I was true without needing to talk much, without making promises and propaganda, because my actions are more important than fake simulations.

This way I got the absolute majority of votes of a population so tired of promises and inadequate projects. I won the elections for the mayor of Rio Vermelho.

And, as the Mayor, I will increase the work I started even before running for mayor, and I will include a Cultural Center to stimulate popular art, I will pave several streets, I will provide professionalizing courses and grant assistance to the poor families in my community. Oh! I will, also, built a smaller speed bump for the church square and others.

I will hold office on January; and, God willing, will save some money to fix my Variant.

The detective Clóvis' angels were fundamental to my intellectual growth. Sorry, my angels were fundamental and crucial so that I could put my mind in order. It was unbelievable when I started hearing myself, studying myself, rediscovering me; and worst than this is when I started watching my mental behavior, distinguishing who was the bad angel and who was my soul. It was sad to learn that the bad angel controlled most part of my thoughts, manipulating my life almost completely.

That is why I stopped acting as a pessimist, procrastinator and critical.

More: I, now, have the habit of reading.

My intention was to transform books into teachers for my soul, once I would be enriching my weak vocabulary to understand better the texts and, who knows, later, prepare an autobiography. Not that I intend to be immortal, far from this, but I thought it would be nice to publish how the weird detective showed up in town to solve a murder and was able to, maybe unintentionally, heal the evil of my soul.

Maybe it will not be a huge success as the books from great authors. Maybe it is not accepted by the market and never exceeds the first edition. But I will be happy if it works as a "push" to those that, eventually, read it. My objective will be the search of sensibility, philosophy and reflection, and, also, wonder those who love a good reading. The important thing, in my opinion, will be the opportunity of showing that it is possible to make things right when you learn to question your own actions, not only of the present as of the past, no matter how hard this may be.

And as long as I don't feel really capable of creating something extraordinary, I will write poetic essays and I will be merciful so that the remainder of my life be as significant as possible, putting inside me this abundant essence brought by the wisdom that God spread on Earth.

Well, I will allow my mind to travel on ideas about how to write my story, and I will be here sitting on the service area, resting my eyes on a good mythology book, contemplating a wonderful yellow and golden sunset...

T h e E n d

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