Chapter 3 CRIME AT THE CALLUCCI MANSION

While parking his Alfa Romeo in the garage of the Campos Elysios police station, he switched off the cassette player, and automatically, his Bosch stereo started broadcasting the local news radio. "Tension in the Falkland Islands could end later this week when the English government expects to receive a truce request from rival Argentina." Daniel let out a puff of nonconformity. "Crazy people, fighting over a piece of the island." - Before he could completely turn off the radio, the device began frantically spitting out the tape inside, Daniel was trying to hold on and stop his k-7 video from chewing it up the whole, but it was an effort in vain. "Shit! Shit! Fucking sound!" - He punched the device twice, which stopped utterly and switched off; he grabbed his belongings and got out of the car, wholly annoyed; as it was still raining, he put on his overcoat to walk across the car park yard. As he walked, he still felt the bitterness of the nightmare in his throat, a bad feeling that tightened his chest. While waiting for the lift in the building's hall, he met the investigator Rodrigo Belfort, his partner in investigations, and together they entered the lift. "All right, Belfort?" "Yes, that's fine, but what brings you here so early?" - It was unusual for Daniel to be in the police station office at 7 am. "I'm fine, I'm up early, and I'm going to take the opportunity to catch up on some reports." They got off the lift and headed for the pantry together, where they had a coffee to energize the start of the workday. "I have a bad feeling today" - Rodrigo was the kind of person with some strange spiritual sensations that were difficult for Daniel to understand, and usually, the things he said sooner or later happened. "Please, Belfort, today is Monday; leave your feelings for midweek." - Daniel spoke in an ironic tone. However, he realized that his friend was serious. "Today is the heaviest day of the week; you know that." They took their coffee and went to their tables facing each other, they had been partners for five years, and they had solved many cases together. "Good morning." - The female voice cut through the sound of electric typewriters reverberating through the room. Sheila Manzinni, a rookie investigator still learning about the department's routine, assisted the investigators. She had medium height, short red hair, and her snowflake white skin contrasted with her plump, red lips. 'We are being called to a barbaric crime that happened this early this morning, but the Chief is there and he will delegate the investigation himself. Belfort looked at her with a flustered expression, they were starting a case, and the investigator was passionate. Before Daniel could say anything, a door clicked with a loud thud at the department entrance. The investigators were doing their bureaucratic jobs, and other agents were already immersed in their tasks when they were interrupted by shock. It was Police Station Chief Fausto Rangel, a short, bald man, who entered the room puffing his cigar like a smokehouse, slammed the door, and shouted like an enraged animal. "I want the whole team in the boardroom immediately!" Quickly all the officers there left what they were doing and headed for the meeting room; Daniel and Belfort were the last to leave their duties, showing great despondency; they headed for the room; they knew that everyone there would hear many complaints from the boss. "I just got a call from the regional superintendent; it's about a barbaric crime that just happened," - Rangel skillfully threw the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, showing all his nervousness. "I want the whole team to get involved in this case, it is about big figures of São Paulo's high society, and the Governor and the Mayor are already calling me for answers." - The Delegate looked at Daniel with an enraged expression, and added. "I want you in Morumbi in 30 minutes, and don't come back here without news". - He then looked horizontally at the team and determined. "I want everyone involved in this case to assemble a cohesive team and bring answers." - He left and slammed the room door, leaving the investigators perplexed and looking at each other. "Yeah, my man, good luck! - Belfort knew that meant a lot of work; he would have to go to the scene of the crime that was already contaminated and try to find some clue in the middle of the mess, then give satisfaction to the journalists that probably would already be at the scene like vultures in the carrion and then go to the coroner's office where he will be grudgingly assisted to follow all the work, in a morbid and cold environment. "Good luck to us, my chap!" - Daniel was sarcastic. "You're the only expert in forensic psychology and my subordinate, so don't even think about refusing this sub-order." Moments later, the duo crosses the lobby of the civil police building, and Belfort doesn't hide the dissatisfied expression on his face; instead of Daniel following to the car park, he goes ahead and leaves on the pavement; his partner remains stopped by the Alfa Romeo looking perplexed trying to understand what Daniel was doing. After walking through almost all the pavement of the police district, he arrived at a bakery with a newspaper stand. Daniel greeted the newsagent. "Good morning, Mr. Quinzinho! - The years of working alongside the police department meant that Mr, Quinzinho made friends with almost all the police officers, and with Daniel, this friendship was even more intimate as they both had the same administration for vintage cars." "Hi, my friend! I'm fine, yes, and you?" - The newspaperman loved Daniel like a son. "I'm in a hurry, Mr. Quinzinho, but I'll drop by some other time to catch up. "I understand, my dear man! Rest assured, and hunt down those damned margins that destroy our city." While they were talking, Daniel's eyes were roaming the comic book shelf; with quick gestures, he removed from the display a comic book of the Mônica's gang and another of Recruit Zero, left the money on top of a newspaper that the newsagent was reading and suddenly stopped, he stood still for a few moments staring at the headline in the newspaper O Estado de São Paulo: "Brazil politically is a powder keg about to explode for the democracy incarcerated during the military dictatorship." Daniel left the newsagent and was soon in his Alfa Romeo; he took the wheel and started the car, throwing the comic books on the back seat; he looked at Belfort, who stared at him in disbelief and gave a mischievous wink. "You still have this comic book mania?". - Belfort spoke, stretching his neck and looking at the car's back seat where he saw a countless pile of comic books of the most varied characters. "Do you collect all this crap?". "Let's say yes." "Shall we say yes? You're kidding me." - Belfort grumbled as he swayed inside the car, speeding towards Morumbi. "Don't fill it up, buddy; I buy the comics as an excuse to snoop through the papers at the newsstand." "Why don't you simply ask Mr. Quinzinho, he is a good person, our friend, and he knows we are always plugged into the criminalist headlines." "I'm loath to ask; regardless of our friendship, it's his livelihood. "Then pay for the paper; it goes the same way." "Okay, I confess." - Daniel takes a deep breath. "I love comic books." - The vehicle stops at a red light, and Daniel takes the opportunity to stare at his partner, who also stares at him with a beastly expression. "Are you going to look at me like that, analyzing me with that face? They both let out a loud laugh, drawing the attention of the drivers of the other vehicles, the traffic light opens, and Daniel steps on the gas, heading for the Callucci mansion.