by M J Dees
Teresa did as she was told and sat next to Selma wondering what on Earth could happen next.
“I had a tip-off,” Selma began. “From the officer in charge of the investigation into Felipe’s disappearance.”
Teresa prepared herself to listen.
Selma sighed.
“Why did you delete those messages, Teresa?”
“What?” Teresa wondered how on Earth they could have found out.
“Felipe’s phone backed up his messages to his cloud,” Selma explained. “While I was in hospital one of the other detectives had the bright idea to compare the records and discovered a whole load of messages to and from you that had been deleted. I’ve read those messages, Teresa. I have to say; I didn’t like what I read. I’ve seen conversations like this before.”
Teresa began to feel small beads of sweat collecting on her brow and her neck.
“Why did you try to hide it?” Selma continued. “It seems from these texts that you might have been a victim of emotional abuse.”
Teresa was silent.
“The problem is,” said Selma. “That my colleagues think you might have been in an abusive relationship as well. And that gives you a motive.”
“A motive?” Teresa asked.
“A reason to get rid of Felipe,” Selma explained. “Teresa. If there’s anything you haven’t told me, now would be a good time to let me know.”
“But this is ridiculous,” Teresa protested. “I was in the hospital. I’ve got the invoice.”
“You discharged yourself from the hospital without the permission of the doctors and before the police could interview you about the death of the dentist. You’re now a suspect not only for the murder of Felipe but the death of the dentist as well. They’re probably on their way over here now to pick you up. The problem is,” Selma was very calm and patient. “You first reported Felipe’s disappearance on theTuesday and yet Felipe didn’t turn up for work on the Friday. What happened that day Teresa. What is it you’re not telling me?”
“What do you mean?” Teresa was incredulous. “Nothing happened that day. We’d argued the night before. He went to work. He came home, and we patched things up.”
Selma gave Teresa a searching look.
“Most of the weekend was fine,” Teresa continued. “Then on Sunday night, he got upset again and left. That was the last time I saw him. I went to work on Monday, went straight to the dentist and woke up in the hospital. When I got home on Tuesday, I found the note and called you.”
“The trouble is,” began Selma. “That while I was being patched up in the hospital, my colleagues came up with a different theory. That you argued on Thursday night, that things got out of hand and something bad happened. You called in sick on Friday to drive down to the beach and dump the body.”
“What? This is ridiculous. I don’t even have a car.”
“The thing is Teresa, that there are other details which would corroborate this theory.”
Teresa leant forward.
“There is CCTV footage of your car on its way to and from the coast on the Friday.”
“But I sold my car. I don’t have one anymore.”
“It’s registered under your name.”
Teresa cursed the second-hand car dealer.
“You remember the clothes they found on the beach?” Selma continued.
Teresa nodded.
“They were found on Saturday morning, not on Wednesday morning as I thought.”
“Well, what about the text messages he sent me on Monday?” Teresa argued.
“If you had his phone, which seems to be the case, you could have sent those yourself.”
Teresa sighed in desperation.
“The lavender plant!” Teresa exclaimed, leaping off the sofa.
Selma watched Teresa with amusement as she ran into the kitchen and searched the window sill.
“It was here! It was here!” Teresa said searching the kitchen.
“What was?”
“The lavender plant that Felipe bought me on the Sunday. You can check it out. The garden centre might have CCTV.”
“Where did he buy it?” Selma asked.
“This garden centre down the road. The one near Anchieta.”
“OK, I’ll check it out,” said Selma. “Just prepare yourself for some awkward questions. My colleagues will want to speak to you. They have a dead dentist and a missing person and no answers. I’m not one for assisting fugitives, but you might want to come with me. Until we can find some answers.”
Selma pushed herself off the sofa with obvious discomfort.
“Let’s go to the garden centre and see if they’ve got footage of Felipe,” Selma walked to the door and then stopped. “Oh, and there’s one other thing. Felipe’s note.”
“Yes? What about it?” Teresa asked.
“It doesn’t match other samples of his handwriting.”
Teresa just stood and stared. She didn’t know how to begin taking in all this information.
“Come on, let’s go.” Selma insisted.
“OK, thank you,” said Teresa as she followed Selma through the door, still trying to assimilate all this information.
She sat in the car in the garden centre car park, while Selma talked to the owner and tried to take it all in.
About half an hour later, Selma returned.
“No CCTV and the owner doesn’t remember seeing Felipe. Sorry, Teresa.”
“Thanks, Selma.” a thought occurred to her. “Selma?”
“Why are the police so interested in Felipe’s disappearance? Black men go missing in São Paulo all the time.”
“The family are putting a bit of pressure on the department,” answered Selma. “Look Teresa. Do you want to stay with us tonight? Give us a bit of time to try and find some answers.”
“Thanks, Selma. That’s very kind.”
Chapter Twenty-Four - Back to reality – 16th February 2015
The noise of a strumming guitar woke Teresa. She pressed the snooze button, silencing the alarm for a while.
“What time is it?” Felipe asked.
“Quarter to five.”
“Jesus Christ!” he said. “Why do you set your alarm so early?”
“Cause I have to get up and go to work,” she said and hugged him.
“Oh my God,” he muttered to himself.
At ten to five the guitar started strumming again, the cats were calling her from their exile, but she pressed snooze again and again at five to five. At five o’clock she turned off the alarm and dragged herself out of bed, freed the cats from the living room and wandered into the bathroom where she ran the shower and stood under the water for a soak. When she emerged wrapped in towels, Felipe had disappeared from the bed. She found him in the kitchen pouring fresh coffee into cups and being fussed over by Oliver and Ramsey.
“Would you like some toast?” he asked.
“No thanks,” she said and gave him a big kiss. “The bathroom’s free. Go and have a shower while I get dressed, then I’ll dry my hair.”
He did as he was told and after ten minutes emerged clean, naked and still a little wet. They kissed again, and Teresa returned to the bathroom to dry her hair. Another ten minutes later they downed their coffee and headed out of the door.
The streets were quiet, and it still wasn’t light, yet so Felipe was surprised at how many people were already at the bus stop when they arrived.
“Why do people get up so early?” Felipe wondered aloud.
“It takes me two hours to get to work. It’s the same for these people.” Teresa said.
“Two hours?”
“On a good day.”
“But why don’t you live closer to the school?”
“Can’t afford it,” she said. “The rent would be double what I pay here just to live near the metro.”
“Well, why don’t you get a job nearer where you live?”
“That’s a possibility, now that….” she hesitated. “I just need to get around to lo
oking for another job.”
For Felipe, living in Praia Grande, the idea of spending four hours of his day on buses and trains seemed ridiculous, but that was the norm for millions of people in São Paulo. Felipe had a ten-minute walk from his apartment to work, and he couldn’t imagine needing to take public transport to work, let alone the return journey taking four hours.
A bus arrived, and Teresa and Felipe climbed on board. They stood in the aisle because all the seats were already taken.
“I used to drive to the Metro,” Teresa explained. “I used to be able to leave at six. It would take me an hour and a half rather than two hours.”
“Why don’t you drive anymore,” Felipe asked.
“I had to sell the car. I couldn’t afford to run it anymore. Everything is getting so expensive. Don’t you drive?” She asked. Anyone with money in São Paulo drove.
“I used to but after the accident…” he trailed off. Teresa gave him an understanding cuddle.
“Did you have any other problems because of your accident?” She asked.
“Other problems?”
“Well, apart from not wanting to drive, have you experienced any other problems?”
“I used to suffer from depression,” he admitted. “But I haven’t had an episode for a long time.”
She gave him another squeeze.
Because the bus had its own lane, it was able to bypass the queues of traffic which were already starting to clog the streets of São Bernardo and Diadema.
After a long, bumpy, journey the now packed bus arrived at Jabaquara bus station where it terminated, and everyone got off. The passengers filed into an even more crowded metro station
Teresa and Felipe halted in the same area of the entrance hall where their lips had first met the night before.
“Have a nice day,” Felipe suggested.
“And you.”
They hugged and kissed once more.
“Your number,” Felipe remembered in a panic and retrieved his phone from his pocket to take it down. “I’ll text you.”
Panic over, they embraced and kissed again, and Teresa wiped her lipstick from his lips.
“Thank you for an amazing weekend,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, knowing that she was in danger of being late for work but not wanting to separate from him just yet. “I’d better go.”
He smiled, they kissed once more, and he let go of her hand. She turned and walked away, not daring to look back while he stood and watched her until she was through the barriers and had disappeared down the escalator.
Teresa glanced at her watch. It was already past seven. It would be touch and go whether she would arrive by 07:45.
Chapter Twenty-Five - Back to the Beach - 16th February 2015
Teresa wondered how long she would be able to maintain her routine of two-hour commute, work, two-hour commute. Felipe’s surprised reaction to her lifestyle had made her question her work, travel, life balance. She considered the time she had spent with Felipe over the weekend and, the fact that there was someone who wanted her, made her feel good in a way she hadn’t felt for a long, long time. She thought about how lucky Felipe was not to have to work today, and she wished she didn’t have to work either.
People packed the platform and, as usual, many of them failed to see why it was necessary to let passengers off the train before they tried to board and a bout of pushing and shoving ensued. Teresa tried to distance herself from this behaviour when boarding, but when she was seeking to alight she would keep her elbows pointing outward so she could give anyone attempting to push past her into the train a good shove. A torrent of indignation often followed this and sometimes abuse, but by that time Teresa had shuffled away along the platform with the herds of other penguin-like commuters.
On this occasion, by the time Teresa did manage to enter the carriage all the seats had been taken and so she found a place to stand, away from the doors where she would not impede anyone’s entrance or exit. She observed a group huddled in front of the doors which they would need to exit through but their exit was no doubt many stops away and in the intervening time other passengers would have to negotiate this human obstruction. Over the course of the next six stops, Teresa watched her prophecy come true as the ranks of the obstructive passengers swelled, and everyone else had to squeeze around them.
Teresa tried to pass the time on metro journeys by listening to music or reading a book but on this morning she daydreamed about Felipe until her thoughts turned to Mariana. Teresa hadn’t given a second thought to Mariana since she’d left her at the hospital the day before and now she felt a little guilty for not asking how she was. Teresa sent her a text.
‘I’m still alive,’ came the curt reply
‘Will you be at school today?’ Teresa asked.
‘No,’ came the simple answer and Teresa was in no small part relieved that she would not have to face Mariana in the flesh.
The train arrived at Ana Rosa, and Teresa got off with a crowd of passengers and stood with them on the escalator, too full to walk up. At the top, she navigated through streams of people walking in all directions, some to the exit, some from the exit, some from the blue line to the green line, some from the green line to the blue line. There seemed to be no obvious path through the bustle and Teresa attempted to calculate where those approaching her were likely to be when they met to avoid a collision. Everyone else just seemed to be walking in the direction they desired with little concern for those around them, secure in the knowledge that everyone else would avoid them as they carried on their journey regardless. Teresa didn’t know how they had the courage just to walk assuming everyone else would just move out of the way. Teresa navigated her way down the steps to the green line just as a train had pulled to a halt on the platform. She jumped on as the door sounded its alarm warning imminent closure. Teresa calculated she would just about make it to work in time, but that breakfast would be out of the question.
Her calculations proved accurate, and she arrived in her classroom at a quarter to eight.
“Good weekend?” Big Brenda asked as soon as Teresa walked through the door. “How was the protest?”
“Yes thanks,” replied Teresa with a smile which betrayed all.
“Oh yes? I expect you to tell me everything.”
“OK, maybe later,” said Teresa. “It’s a little bit complicated.”
For some reason, the children seemed more tolerable that particular Monday, and Teresa’s work a little less monotonous and demoralising. The day passed, and Teresa had to admit to herself that she’d enjoyed parts of it. It was, of course, made all the more bearable by the receipt of texts throughout the day from Felipe who expressed how much he’d enjoyed himself and what he’d like to do with Teresa if he had her alone.
The journey home was as long as the journey to school, but Teresa was much more aware of being alone on the Metro and bus and of travelling towards a flat which was empty save for two fussy feline inhabitants. The journey was interrupted by the occasional filthy text from Felipe which made her feel less alone because she had someone who cared for her and more alone because that person was far away.
By coincidence, in fact by the power of shuffle, If you find yourself caught in love by Belle and Sebastian started playing through her headphones advising her to ‘say a prayer to the man above’ and she thought how Felipe might chide her for thanking God for bringing them together.
As soon as she arrived home, tired from the long uncomfortable journey, she was pounced on as usual by Oliver and Ramsey, not so much kittens now as small cats. “With claws which needed cutting.” she chuckled to herself.
Teresa topped up the kettle from one of the bottles she had filled at the weekend, the water supply having already been cut off for the evening. She was glad this gave her an excuse not to do the washing up although she stared at the plates and cups which were starting to pile up and had already attracted a reasonable number of fruit flies.
While she wai
ted for the kettle to boil, Teresa texted Mariana to find out how she was doing.
‘Fine,’ was all she received in reply. Teresa wondered how, if Mariana were reacting like this now, she would react when she discovered that Teresa had slept with Felipe, although it wasn’t the sleeping part with which Mariana had a problem.
Teresa was very tired after a weekend of insufficient sleep. She flopped down on the sofa with a gin and tonic and the cats and turned on the TV to watch the usual diet of tea-time crime programmes which recounted a catalogue of murders, robberies, road accidents, car chases and arrests that had happened in and around São Paulo in the previous 24 hours. It was depressing stuff, no wonder people in the city were afraid to leave their houses and lived behind security bars and high fences.
Her phone rang. The display told her it was Felipe.
“Hello?” she said as she picked up.
“It’s me,” he said.
“I know.”
“How was your day?”
“Good thanks. And yours?”
“Oh, you know. Bus journey. Lunch. Snooze. Snack. Another snooze.”
“I hate you,” she joked. “How was the journey?”
“Pretty ordinary. No incidents.”
“OK.”
Silence.
“Listen, it’s just a quick call,” he said. “I’m on the night shift tonight. I just wanted to call you and thank you again for a great weekend.”
“Thank you.”
“Why don’t you, if you’re not doing anything that is. Why don’t you come down and spend next weekend here in Praia Grande with me?”
“That’s very kind of you. Thanks for the invite.”
“Yes, well, think about it. No pressure.”
“It sounds nice,” she said, conscious of the fact that she would have to cancel the appointments to fix the roof and the fridge. This must be serious.
“Yes, well, OK. I’ll call you again tomorrow. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Thanks for the call.”
“OK, speak to you tomorrow then.”
“OK.”
“Bye then.”
“Bye.”
“OK, bye.”
“Bye.”
He hung up. Teresa looked at her phone feeling awkward. She hated the start of a relationship, the period when neither partner feels they know the other well enough to tell the other they love them. She thought maybe at least she could have blown him a kiss, but then he didn’t blow her any kisses.
