A Vine in the Blood by Leighton Gage Read Free Book Online Page A

sleep. How about you come back tomorrow morning?”
    “The first few hours are always crucial. We’ll try to take up as little of his time as possible. Yours, too, Senhorita Tadesco.”
    “I’m not too tired,” the Artist said. “This is my mother we’re talking about. I want to do everything I can to help. Make yourselves comfortable.”
    Cops one, Tadesco zero , Silva thought as he took a seat.
    “Discounting the ransom,” he said. “Can you think of any reason why someone might have kidnapped your mother?”
    “You don’t think five million dollars is reason enough?” Cintia said.
    If she couldn’t get rid of them, she apparently intended to make her presence felt.
    “It’s a good one, Senhorita Tadesco, and it may be the only one, but we shouldn’t fail to consider other possibilities.”
    “Like what?”
    “A group of Argentineans so focused on winning the Cup they kidnapped Senhora Santos to put Tico off his game.”
    “That’s ridiculous!”
    “It probably is. How about this: someone thinks he has star quality, but Tico outshines him. He kidnaps Tico’s mother. Tico doesn’t play, and the kidnapper has a chance to be the big star of the Cup.”
    Silva put as little faith in that possibility as he had in the first. He expected Cintia to reject it out of hand.
    But she didn’t.
    “Romário de Barros!” she said.
    “Aw, come on, Cintia,” Tico said, “it’s not fair to accuse a guy just because—”
    “Fair?” she said. “ Querido , this is Romário de Barros we’re talking about.”
    Romário de Barros was the Corinthians’ principal striker, a brilliant player, just not as brilliant as Tico. The fans knew that, the other players knew that, everyone in Brazil knew that. Everyone except Romário de Barros. Truth be told, he probably knew it as well, he just didn’t want to admit it. Had it not been for the Artist, Romário would have been Brazil’s greatest star. As it was, he ran a distant second. For most people, what Romário insisted on calling the “rivalry” between himself and Tico was no more than a joke.
    “Romário de Barros,” Silva said, “is a distinct possibility. We’ll look into it.”
    “I think you’re gonna be wasting your time,” Tico said.
    “Who cares about their time if it pisses Romário off?” Cintia said. “He’s caused you plenty of aggravation. It’s time you caused him some.” She yawned and looked at her gold Rolex. “How about you guys speed it up? It’s getting late.”
    Not very concerned about our future mother-in-law, are we? Silva thought.
    “And then,” he said, “we also have to consider the possibility that Senhora Santos’s abduction might have been an act of revenge.”
    “Revenge?” Tico said.
    “Revenge,” Silva said. “Do you know someone, anyone, who might want to punish you by kidnapping your mother?”
    Tico rubbed his chin. Then he shook his head. “I can’t think of anybody.”
    “How about Joãozinho Preto?” Arnaldo said.
    “Never,” Tico said. “He’d never—”
    “Who’s Joãozinho Preto?” Cintia said.
    All the men looked at her.
    “He was a striker for Palmeiras,” Silva said. “Tico broke his leg just before the national playoffs.”
    “I still feel bad about that, but it was an accident. Ask anybody. I never even got a yellow card.”
    “I don’t debate it. But the accident ruined Joãozinho’s career. He hasn’t played a day since.”
    “He never said a word against me,” Tico said, “not then, not since. It was the fans that made a big issue of it, not him. And that photo they took at the time shocked a lot of people. Hell, it even shocked me. But we all take our chances. Joãozinho understood that.”
    “So we can probably discount him. Nobody else you can think of?”
    “No.”
    “But they’re out there,” Cintia said. “You can count on that, querido , they’re out there. Lots of envious bastards who earn their pissy little hundred thousand Reais a year and are jealous