The Night Watchman Read Free

Bento. On the Rua do Vale.’
    It was my week to be on call, which meant I was given all the major crimes reported by the Public Security Police, the PSP. Their officers were nearly always the first on the scene because all emergency calls to 112 were directed their way.
    ‘Okay, Pires, get the techs from Forensics over to the Rua do Vale ASAP. I’ll get there as soon as I can.’
    ‘Right, sir,’ Pires agreed, but in a tone of warning, she added, ‘the PSP says that the victim was wealthy and well-connected, with lots of friends in the government.’
    I came out to talk to her, closing the door behind me. ‘I know you’re just trying to protect me, Inspector, but a cadaver isn’t likely to phone any of his big-shot buddies to complain that I took a few extra minutes with a suspect. Don’t let the PSP spook you.’
    ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’
    I’d spoken gently, but she looked as if she might burst into tears, so I took her shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean to sound harsh. This suspect has put me off-balance. One thing you can do for me is call Dr Zydowicz. I want him on this case.’
    Zydowicz was the chief medical inspector. He’d just returned to work after two months on sick leave. We weren’t required to have a medical expert on hand, but I preferred having one around for high-profile cases.
    I slipped back into my office to finish up with Moura. He was finishing his glass of water when I stepped in. A few minutes later, we’d reached an agreement on the exact wording of his statement. Once he’d added his tiny, careful signature, he handed me back my pen and said in a hopeful tone, ‘I don’t think I’m really such a bad person.’
    I considered what to tell him; I wanted to be honest but hurting him seemed pointless. ‘Sometimes people get so lost that they can’t find their way back to themselves. I think that’s maybe what happened to you. Though you should keep in mind that nobody who ends up being interrogated in my office ever thinks of himself as a bad person.’
    I was tempted to say more, but he’d wrecked his quiet little life in a way that could never be repaired, and that seemed to earn him the right to hold on to an illusion or two. Still, he sensed that I had more on my mind. ‘Go ahead, I can take it,’ he told me.
    I looked at him hard to make sure he meant it. He nodded decisively.
    ‘I’m sorry to have to say this, but do you really think your fantasy son will believe you’re a good dad when he finds out you poisoned his mom?’
    ‘I thought of that, too,’ he acknowledged, sitting up straight. He seemed gratified that our minds worked alike. ‘That’s why I’ve made it so he’ll never find out.’
    ‘You’re never going to think of him again?’ I asked sceptically.
    Passing over my question, he said in a grateful voice, ‘You’re a nice guy. And you listen well – thanks. I’m lucky I got to speak to you last.’
    ‘Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of people to talk to in prison. And more than a few of them will be thrilled to have a friend who’s an expert chemist. You might even—’
    Reaching up to his chest, he swallowed a sharp intake of breath, then coughed.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
    He gazed down and took a fish-out-of-water gulp of air. ‘I didn’t want to have to tell my kid,’ he said in a choking voice. ‘Or anyone else.’ He leaned over my desk, his hands gripping its edge, his knuckles white.
    ‘What did you do?’ I demanded, jumping up.
    He closed his eyes. His grip slackened. ‘Don’t bother calling an ambulance.’
    ‘Merda!’ I hollered.
    As I rushed to him, his head fell forward and hit the surface of my desk with a thud. His right hand shot out at the same time and sent my I ♥ BLACK CANYON mug and all my pens flying. His eyes were open but not seeing anything in our world. A rivulet of blood trickled out of his nose.
    Inspector Pires came rushing in from next door. I shouted for her to call an ambulance. ‘And tell the