The Street Angel

by Robert Gollagher

  Richards nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s life, right?”

  “You betcha,” Louis replied quietly.

  “C’est la guerre,” Pierre agreed. “The big fish always escape.”

  “I gotta get goin’, boys.” Chester Louis headed for the podium, camera in hand. “It’s a photo opportunity.”

  “See you,” Richards said quietly. The band had stopped playing.

  Neither Richards nor Fontaine paid any attention to the attractive dark-haired woman in a little black dress who was making her way towards them, walking along the edge of the hall, before she turned and plunged into the crowd on her way to the podium. Had they watched her carefully, they would have seen a well-dressed man following her quietly a few steps behind, although neither of them would have recognised him as Judge Marcus’s clerk. Richards and Fontaine simply looked at the podium as the speech began. Richards hated the proud smile on del Campo’s face.

  “Good evening, my friends, all of you,” del Campo began in Portuguese. “Welcome to this charity event.” Then, in English, he added, “And welcome to the members of the international press who are with us tonight.”

  Once the applause had died down, the general droned on with his speech in Portuguese. Richards thought it was the biggest load of crap he’d ever heard, but the audience seemed to take it well. The son of a bitch even had a few of the orphan boys up there on the podium with him, whom he would turn to and praise from time to time in the speech, something Richards would see for himself the next day when the newspapers came out. What idiot built the podium so low? he thought incredulously. Still, it was probably a blessing not to be able to see the whole sickening spectacle.

  “As you all know,” the general continued, his voice booming through the loudspeakers, “it has always been a priority of mine to look after our needy children, especially those poor boys and girls who do not even have homes but must live on the street. It’s orphanages like this one that I am happy to support, and children like these poor boys here with me on the stage. That is why my wife and I organised tonight’s charity dance.”

  Juliet Formosa had been pushing her way through the crowd when she heard this last sentence. His wife? she thought. His wife? No, that couldn’t be right. Behind her, the clerk ducked behind a tall man. He stepped out again when she continued on her way to the podium.

  What Juliet saw when she reached the front of the crowd was worse than she had ever imagined in her most neurotic nightmares. There was that bitch of a wife of his, Maria Anna del Campo, with her grey hair dyed black and a ridiculous red ball gown on her plump figure, standing next to Fernando like an excited schoolgirl on prom night, holding onto his arm proudly and lovingly. And there was the strobe flash of camera shots, again and again, the spotlight of publicity on Fernando again and again, not with Juliet but with his bitch of a wife. She hardly heard any of his words. She saw only the two of them, standing arm in arm on the podium, frozen by every flashbulb as if time itself were running slow. This was more than Juliet could understand. He had sent her the note. For what? To torture her? To bring her here and humiliate her? And then she saw it.

  The Tears of the Angels.

  The necklace! she thought. Our necklace. The necklace that was supposed to proclaim our love to the world, that was supposed to have been stolen, the necklace that Fernando had told her he could not recover. He had given it to that bitch. Now she was wearing it around her wrinkled neck.

  My God, Juliet thought, he brought me here for this.

  At that precise moment, Fernando del Campo happened to look down during his speech, smiling proudly at those in the crowd closest to him, and he saw her. He stopped in mid sentence.

  Inside Fernando del Campo’s stomach suddenly there was cold ice. Juliet! he thought. Then he remembered Maria was wearing the necklace, the necklace which she had claimed that very afternoon that he had sent to her, the necklace that she insisted upon wearing. In those few seconds of silence, with the puzzled crowd waiting for him to go on and with his wife oblivious of the whole affair, it was not anger – at who might have orchestrated this – but fear, pure fear which gripped him. He could lose her, he could lose Juliet over this, he could lose the only thing which truly mattered to him! But before he could think what to do, Juliet spoke.

  She made the movements of speaking. In fact, she gave no voice to the words, but he could read them clearly on her lips before she turned and pushed her way into the crowd, perhaps gone forever from his life.

  “You bastard.”

  Del Campo shook his head and tried not to panic. “Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen. I ... lost my train of thought. As I was saying, we are so pleased you could all be here tonight. I thank you. Enjoy the evening.”

  Before the polite applause had ended, del Campo was on the floor and pushing his way roughly through the crowd. Maria was left by herself to answer the reporters’ questions. Del Campo heard her words while he looked in vain for Juliet Formosa. She had already gone.

  “My husband is a wonderful man,” Maria Anna del Campo said into the microphone. “Never have I seen anyone care so much for children as he. All the children of Recife he loves as if they were his own.”

  When the questions were over and the band started again, Richards decided he had no desire to stay any longer. He spoke loudly to Fontaine over the music. “You wanna go outside, Pierre? It’s stuffy in here.”

  Fontaine followed him out, away from the crowd, halfway down the long, winding driveway of the orphanage. It was a hot, dark night.

  “Can you believe that propaganda, Pierre?”

  “Ah, like I said, c’est la guerre.”

  “Well it’s making me sick.”

  “You are getting too sensitive, Bob.”

  “Maybe. But just to see that murdering bastard up there, celebrating like a hero. Nothing ever changes, does it? He’s going to get away with the whole thing scot-free. And the band plays on.”

  “Things do not change, my friend. You should know that.”

  “Yeah. I guess I should.” Richards looked down the driveway to the open gates of the orphanage. He remembered first coming to the orphanage, nearly four months ago, the blind kid opening the gates for him, meeting Susan. He faced Fontaine again. “I’ve had enough for one night. I’ll see you.”

  Fontaine looked concerned. “You are walking home?”

  “Yeah. I could do with the fresh air.”

  Fontaine patted him on the shoulder. “Then take care, my friend.”

  “Always, Pierre. I always do,” said Richards.

  He walked out of the orphanage gates for the last time.

  Chapter 27

  General Fernando del Campo banged his fist impatiently on the door of the apartment of the woman he loved. He had left Maria at the dance, had run out desperately once he was sure Juliet was no longer there, and driven to her apartment. The caretaker had told him she had returned. So he knew she was inside. He thumped on the door again.

  Juliet Formosa had ignored all of his pathetic pleas, but now he had stopped talking. He was just banging his fist wordlessly on her door. Against her better judgement, she finally relented and opened it a few inches.

  “Oh, my God. Juliet! Thank God I have found you.”

  “What do you want, you bastard?” Juliet hissed.

  “I want to explain. Let me come in. Let me in and we’ll talk.”

  “You want to come in? All right, Fernando. Come in.” Juliet released the security chain and swung the door open. “But don’t touch me.”

  “All right, all right. Of course.” Del Campo followed her into the large living room of her penthouse apartment. But neither of them sat down.

  “Well, Fernando. I suggest you make it brief. I am flying back to São Paulo in the morning. You understand?”

  “No, no. Juliet. No. Let me explain. Someone sent the necklace to my wife, with some kind of forged note. I knew nothing about it. You must believe me.” He stared to walk closer to her.

&n
bsp; “Get away from me, you pig. Keep your distance. I don’t want your filthy paws on me. And I don’t believe your lies any more. You asked me to come to the dance to humiliate me, didn’t you? You filthy bastard!”

  “No, my beautiful Juliet, no I did not. Little Cat, I would never ...”

  Juliet was still wearing the little black dress she had worn to the orphanage. “Don’t call me that. And that’s all you think about, isn’t it? How pretty I am? How you can come over and fuck me whenever you feel like it? How I believe all your lies? Well, Fernando, you will never touch me again.”

  “Juliet, try to calm down. I’m telling you, I’ve been set up. Someone sent the necklace to my wife. I didn’t have it. And I didn’t know you were coming to the dance. I didn’t know.”

  Juliet was screaming now. “And that makes it all right? You didn’t know I was coming, so you can parade in front of the photographers with that bitch wearing my necklace? That makes it all right?”

  “No. I told Maria she may not wear it, but she wouldn’t listen ...”

  “And the note, you bastard, you dirty pig, the note? Such a beautiful letter, telling me we would be together at last. You sent that for a joke? To humiliate me? To laugh at me in public with your friends?”

  “Juliet, I sent you no note. It must be part of the set-up. Someone is trying to break us up. Be reasonable, Juliet. You must see that I wouldn’t do this. You must ...” Del Campo was walking towards her again.

  Disgusted by him, Juliet backed away until she came to one of the sofas. She sat down and started fumbling with the drawer of the large mahogany coffee table. “Get away from me, Fernando.”

  Del Campo kept coming. He held out his hand. “Please, Juliet. I just want to talk. That’s all. I just want to talk.”

  At that moment Juliet Formosa was so utterly revolted by him that something inside her completely snapped. She reached inside the drawer and pulled out the .38 calibre revolver which del Campo himself had insisted she keep in the apartment. After all, as he had told her so many times, it was a dangerous city. She pointed the gun at him, her hands shaking half with rage and half with fear and disbelief at what she was doing, and told him to stop. “Get back! Get away from me!”

  The general’s eyes widened in amazement. He raised his hands a little and stood still. He knew Juliet would never pull the trigger but he still felt almost naked when he realised he was not carrying a sidearm. He had not thought it appropriate for a formal dance. “Okay, okay. It’s all right. I’m not going to try to touch you. All right?”

  Juliet stood up again. The gun was polished silver in colour. The general found he could not take his eyes off it. He stood very still.

  “No, Fernando. It is not all right. Do you hear me? It is not all right.”

  “I only meant ...”

  “Shut up, you bastard! Just shut up. I told you not to lie to me again, not to play with my heart. But this cruel joke of yours, it’s too much. I’m not coming back to you, Fernando. I’m going in the morning. You lost me.”

  Del Campo almost forgot about the gun. “No, Juliet. Don’t say it. I love you. I love you! This is all a mistake. Someone’s trying to break us up, I’m telling you. I didn’t do this. I don’t know who did but I’ll find them and when I do, I promise you, I promise you there will be justice. Whoever did this will pay with his life. But I’m begging you, Juliet. Please, give me a chance.”

  Juliet spoke very softly now. There were tears in her eyes. “Do you think I care about justice? I don’t. Would I be with a man like you if that mattered to me? All I care about is us, Fernando. Not justice.”

  “Then give me a chance, Juliet.”

  “A chance for more of your lies, Fernando?” As if she were in a dream, Juliet lifted the gun and cocked it. “I don’t think so.”

  The general raised his palms again. “Juliet, my angel, you must put down the gun and we can talk about this sensibly. Be careful with it, okay?”

  “No,” said Juliet quietly. “Not okay.” She walked forward now, gripped by a kind of anger she had never known before in her lifetime. It was the kind of anger that only two years of abuse could engender, and it was all funnelled into that single moment. “It’s not okay, Fernando.”

  Del Campo retreated slowly. “Now, Juliet ... just calm down ... you don’t know what you’re doing ... you’re upset.”

  “You,” Juliet said, “are a miserable bastard. And I hate you. Take off your clothes. Take them off.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, get them off. Everything but your pants.”

  “Juliet, I don’t understand ...”

  “Just do it, you bastard, or I’ll shoot.”

  “You wouldn’t,” said del Campo, believing the words.

  “Take off your clothes, Fernando. Maybe I’m horny. Think what you want. Take them off.” She waved the gun.

  “All right, all right.” Del Campo stripped down to his trousers. “Now what? This is silly, Little Cat. Why don’t we just talk?”

  “You think I want to talk to you? I hate you. Now, open the front of your pants. Leave the belt tight, but open the fly.”

  Del Campo finished opening his pants. “What’s this all about? You want to make me feel stupid, humiliate me? Why take off my clothes?”

  “I’ll show you why, Fernando,” Juliet said softly. “This is why.”

  Del Campo saw her finger move at the trigger. He couldn’t believe it. He shook his head. Juliet Formosa was no killer.

  But then a sledgehammer seemed to crash into his chest, there was the sound of a gunshot, and he was falling backwards. With a crack he hit the floor and was suddenly looking up at the ceiling, gasping for breath.

  The last thing Fernando del Campo ever saw was the sight of Juliet Formosa leaning over him. He tried to focus on her face, tried to make sense of what was happening, but he could not speak and his vision was beginning to fail. In a minute, he would be unconscious. In two, he would be dead. He saw Juliet look down at him dispassionately.

  She shook her head. “I can’t pull the trigger a second time, Fernando. That wouldn’t be self-defence.”