The Lisbon Crossing (7 page)

“He was murdered,” he shrugged, stating the obvious.

The major scowled. “And your suspect is Eva Lange?”

Catela looked at me apologetically. “I’m afraid it must be.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed, wondering if this was the opening of negotiations. “There’s no evidence that she—”

“She did threaten him with a gun,” Ritter interjected. “Is that not correct, Captain?”

Catela shrugged a powerless yes. “It’s a matter between our two governments,” he apologized, nervously adjusted his sidearm. “A missing diplomat is a serious matter and I have been instructed to offer every possible assistance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the gun?” I said.

Catela frowned. “Please, Senhor Teller…”

“What?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The young whore has surely told you about the pistol when she visited your room last night…” He paused for a smirk. “That was the purpose for her visit, was it not?”

Here I thought I’d been a step ahead and it looked like I wasn’t even in the game yet.

“Capitão!”

One of Catela’s men waved us over to the water’s edge, where the car was being examined. Several cops were staring into the open trunk, and a moment later, so were we.

Dr. Kleinmann was in pretty much the same shape as Eddie was, except for the fact that instead of getting two in the chest, he’d been killed with a single bullet to the brain. The hole was almost exactly in the center of his forehead.

“Don’t be ridiculous,
darling. Eva wouldn’t hurt a fly. She wouldn’t be capable of it.” It was said with such finality, as if that should be the end of it, that I thought I’d better drive the point home.

“She was seen pointing a gun at Grimes on the night somebody put two slugs in his heart. If I was Catela, I’d think she did it, too.” I was trailing Lili around her suite, watching her pull the place apart in an increasingly desperate search for smokes, billowing beige silk pajamas fluttering in her wake as she swept from one room to another.

“We could probably buy her out of that,” I continued, “…if it wasn’t for the dead German in the trunk.” She stopped in the middle of the bedroom, put a hand on her hip, and made a sour face.

“I can understand why she’d want to shoot a Nazi, but why Eddie Grimes?…Help me find my damned cigarettes, will you?” She resumed the search.

“Want one of mine?” I said, and she threw a look of disdain over her shoulder. I shrugged and pretended to look around the bedroom while she checked out the en suite. I heard bottles of perfume and whatever else being ruthlessly shoved aside, then she reappeared in the doorway, smokeless.

“Who was it?”

“Who was what?”

“Who saw Eva? With the gun?”

“Oh. A girl Grimes had in his hotel room. Eva paid him a surprise visit and found them together.”

“A prostitute?”

“Right.”

“The girl you had in your room last night?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘had.’ Is everybody keeping tabs on me?”

“You weren’t exactly discreet, darling. Monsieur le concierge had a big stick up his ass this morning.” She eased across the room and picked up the phone on the bedside table.

“I’ll bet he enjoyed that,” I said, and she couldn’t help giving up a smirk.

“Send up ten packages of Rothmans,” she said into the receiver, hanging up without further ado. “Have you eaten?”

“I could use a coffee.”

“It’s probably cold.”

I followed her through to the lounge, where an untouched feast of a breakfast was laid out on the table. Lili poured a coffee and handed it over. I added sugar.

“What are the options?” she said. It was a good question and I wished I had a better answer.

“We could try the bribe, anyway, but I don’t think it’ll fly. Not with Kleinmann involved.”

“Who’s Kleinmann?”

“The dead German.” She was right about the coffee, it was stone cold. I put it down and dug out my smokes. “Sure you don’t want one?” I said as I lit up.

“Well, I’m not going to stand here and watch you,” she scowled. I obliged and lit her up. She took a huge lungful of smoke, which seemed to settle her, then she flopped onto the sofa, suddenly exhausted. She flicked an ash into a flowerpot and looked out the
French window toward the sea. We didn’t speak for a long minute.

“We have an engagement this afternoon,” she finally said, offering up a jaded smile. “Tea with the duchess.”

“We?”

“I’m not going alone, and I’m certainly not going to take the Latin lover. Don’t worry. You won’t have to curtsy.”

“If you say so.” I wasn’t being coy and I wasn’t worried about which fork I should use, either. Meeting the former king and his new wife might be entertaining, but if I was going to have any chance of staying ahead of Ritter, I couldn’t afford an afternoon with the chattering classes.

“Be downstairs at three,” Lili said, effectively dismissing me. “Your driver can take us over.” There was no point arguing, so I nodded and headed for the door. I hesitated on the way out.

“Is there something else?” Lili said.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if you put the chain on your door at night.”

“Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”

“Probably. But do it anyway.”

I took her silence to be acquiescence, and started out the door again. She called after me.

“Jack…”

“Yeah?”

“What can we do about Eva?”

“Find her. Before anybody else does.”

“And then?”

“Let’s find her first.”

“E
asier said than done, old chap.”

Harry Thompson was looking down the barrel of a tall gin and tonic, the first of the day. I’d located him at the central bar in the sleepy town of Casçais, soaking up his early-afternoon breakfast, pen
and blank notebook set out on the table in front of him, ready for inspiration when it came. Dark sunglasses hid the worst of the damage, but the wrinkled white suit gave him away.

“I thought you might be able to point me in the right direction.”

“What made you think that?” He dug the lime out of his glass and squeezed it out onto his tongue. It made my back teeth cringe.

“You seem to know things.”

He gave me a long look. “You’re right about that. How’d you know where to find me?”

“You don’t exactly keep a low profile. I asked over at the casino.” He grunted and looked longingly into his empty glass. I signaled the barman for another.

“I have to come up with something in…” He looked at his pocketwatch. “Christ. Less than two hours. I hate my life. No, I hate my editor.” The G&T arrived and Harry helped himself to a healthy dose.

“How about an interview with Lili Sterne?” I said.

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?”

“It’s not front page, but at least it’s something,” he ruminated. “It’d keep them off my back for a few days, anyway. Would she do it?”

“No chance,” I said.

“Oh, well, then…up yours.” He saluted me with his glass and threw it back.

“You write what you want, and as long as she comes out looking okay, there won’t be a problem.”

“Jack, boy, if she gets onto the paper, they’ll have my nuts for lunch.”

“No problem,” I assured him. “I’m signing off on it.”

“Can you do that?”

I shrugged. “She won’t see it anyway.”

He weighed the idea. “I suppose I could do the ‘good German’ angle. She could say lots of nasty things about Hitler. Repul
sive little man with a Napoléonic complex, that sort of thing.”

“There you go,” I encouraged him. He picked up the pen and scribbled the thought onto the pad.

“Be a good chap and order another one, will you?” he said, pushing his empty glass across the table. “I write much better when I’m sloshed and I’m not even close yet.”

I signaled the barman and waited while Harry sketched out his article. It only took a couple of minutes.

“How’s this for an opening?…‘Teutonic film legend Lili Sterne was in Lisbon last night and this reporter was privileged to sit down for an exclusive chat with her, not about her towering film career, but about the state of the world and, in particular, the way in which Herr Hitler and his—quote—band of brutish bullies—unquote—have brought ruin and disgrace to her former homeland.”

“Is that one sentence?”

“Sure. Editors like that. Makes it look like you worked on it.”

“I’m not too sure about the ‘Teutonic’ bit.”

“Mmm, maybe. ‘German film legend.’” He made the correction. “Sacrifice flair for clarity. That’s life these days. Want to hear more?”

“I’ll wait for the early edition,” I said. He looked a little hurt, but I was pressed for time.

“What about Eva Lange?” I said.

Harry furrowed his brow. “What makes you think she wants to be found?”

“I don’t know if she does or she doesn’t, but that’s not the point. The point is that
I
want to find
her
.”

“Think she killed Kleinmann?”

“Again, I don’t care one way or the other.”

He nodded. “If I were you, I’d tell Lili Sterne to forget about her friend and go back to Hollywood, where the sun shines twenty-four hours a day. Lisbon’s a cesspool, and if you go snooping around a cesspool, you’re going to find yourself knee-deep in other people’s shit.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I’m looking for information.”

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t try, though.”

“Come on, Harry.”

“There’s a chap who might be able to help you out. At a price, of course.”

“Of course.”

“He’s a Slav. I don’t know how or why he got here, but he makes it his business to know everybody else’s business. Not a very pleasant chap, but he gets around.”

“Is his name Roman Popov?”

Harry looked mildly surprised. “You’ve had the pleasure, then.”

“He tried to pick my pocket last night and said it was because he liked me so much.”

“That’s Popov.”

“I wrote him off as a leech.”

“Quite right.”

“But you think he might know something?”

“As I said, he makes it his business to know what’s going on. And he did go out of his way to meet you last night.”

“If he had something, why didn’t he say so, then?”

“One has to proceed with caution in Lisbon if one hopes to survive, let alone do business. A snake like Popov deals with both sides, so he has to be sure he doesn’t get caught in the middle. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was chatting up Major Ritter right now. At any rate, whether he knows something or not, it’s better to have him on your side. I’m afraid it won’t be cheap, though. Hollywood and all that.”

“You know where to find him?”

“He moves around a lot. Like a rat. But you can try here. Don’t tell him I sent you.” Harry scribbled an address on his notepad and tore the page out. “It’s in the Alfama. Not the most pleasant of abodes.”

“Thanks, Harry,” I said, and got up to leave.

“What’s the hurry?” He smiled broadly. “Have one for the road.”

“I’ve got an appointment with a former king,” I said. “Probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.” I signaled the barman to pour Harry another, but he already had it waiting.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Jack. You do get around.”

“See ya, Harry.”

“Count on it.” He winked and disappeared into his glass. I dropped a few escudos onto the bar and headed out.

I
’d been staring vacantly out the car window, so I didn’t recognize the villa until we were well inside the gate, and I could see the cliffs off to the west, waves crashing against the distinct profile of o Boca do Inferno. The estate was considerably larger than it had looked from across the estuary, much of the grounds hidden by a grove of tall pines. Alberto pulled into a semicircular drive, where a number of impressive cars were parked, and cut the engine.

“Who does it belong to?” I asked.

“Is the house of Doutor Espírito Santo,” Alberto explained.

“Must be some doctor,” I said. The house was bigger than it had seemed from a distance, too. An entire wing was hidden behind the main structure, almost doubling the size of the place. It looked as though it’d been given a fresh coat of white paint recently.

“He is no
doutor
for medical,” Alberto explained. “He is own a big bank of Portugal. Too much money.”

“There’s no such thing as too much money, darling,” Lili announced from the backseat, where she was doing a final face check in a handheld mirror. She was in red carpet mode, waiting for someone to open her door. I got out and did the honors, beating a Japanese-looking butler who’d appeared from inside the house and was heading our way. He bowed respectfully as Lili stepped onto the gravel, then indicated for us to follow.

Alberto joined the other drivers, stretched out under a tree while Lili and I were led around to the side of the villa and along a hedge just high enough to screen the source of the voices that were coming from the other side. All the ground-floor windows were shuttered,
maybe to keep the rooms cool, more likely to frustrate prying eyes like mine.

We turned a corner where there was a break in the hedge. The butler stopped just short of it and waited for a moment, maybe letting us collect ourselves before the big entrance, then he ushered us through to a pleasant grassy area set in the shade of the pines. A table of tea and cakes, manned by a couple of young waiters, was set up on the far side of the rectangular lawn while a couple of dozen guests gathered in small groups, the men mostly standing while the ladies tended toward the garden chairs.

“Lili, dear!”

The duchess strode across the grass, arms extended, face lit up by a welcoming smile. She wasn’t what you’d call a natural beauty—high, broad forehead, wide cheekbones, and long, dominant chin, with small, birdlike brown eyes and razor-thin red lips. Her flat black hair was pulled back so severely that it looked like she was wearing a helmet. But she moved with grace and she had charisma, the kind that you don’t learn. As she got closer, it occurred to me that the stress of the abdication and the wedding had taken its toll. She looked older than she had in the papers. More lived in.

She placed her hand on Lili’s arm in a gesture of intimacy. “I’m so pleased that you’ve come!” she said. “You’d have disappointed quite a few men if you hadn’t!”

“That wouldn’t do,” Lili purred.

“Of course he is the greatest fan of all. I’ve heard about nothing else since last night.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “He was so miserable that he wasn’t able to have a proper chat with you. He didn’t perk up until I suggested we invite you for tea.” The duchess always referred to her husband as “he,” as if he was some kind of deity.

“He’s attending to some business at the moment,” she continued. “Though I’m certain that when he hears you’ve arrived, he’ll be straight down.”

“Very kind of you to think of us,” Lili smiled disingenuously, picking up on the tone of the afternoon.

The duchess turned on me. “Hello,” she chirped, extending a hand. “Who are you?”

“Jack Teller,” I said.

“Jack and I are traveling together,” Lili explained.

“I don’t blame you.” The duchess kept her eyes locked on mine and gave my hand a suggestive squeeze. “He’s quite handsome.”

“I suppose so,” Lili allowed. “If you like the type.”

The duchess smiled coyly. “But, of course, I’m a married woman.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said.

She let go of my hand and turned back to Lili. “Look how much of an effort they’re all making not to look at you. Let’s go over and put them out of their misery.” She locked arms with Lili and guided her toward the party. I was about to follow when I was tapped on the shoulder.