large. Why had God made her so ugly? What saved her was her body.
She removed her clothes and tried to see her body in the small mirror. She would have liked at that moment to see herself nude in a large mirror in order to forget the blonde lady. At home she would dance naked in front of an enormous wall mirror, and the sight of her nude body in motion always caused her immense happiness. But in Mattos’s apartment there was only that crummy mirror that let her see only her horrible face.
The pipes in the bathroom began to rumble. The water was back. Salete filled the bathtub, taking care to see that the temperature was right. Then she stood beside the tub. She didn’t need to strike a pose; she wasn’t like many of the girls she’d met at Dona Floripes’s, who would try to appeal to johns by hiding their breasts and butt behind cloths, sucking in their belly, contorting themselves by placing one leg over the other to conceal the curved opening between their thighs. She shouted: “You can come in.”
Mattos entered the bathroom.
“Get rid of that book.”
Salete watched the inspector put the book in a corner, on the clothes hamper. Where was the look of surprise at her nudity, or that other look, that of desire? She took Mattos’s hand and placed it on her breast.
“Can you hear my heart?”
She had seen that in a film. It wasn’t one of the clever whore’s tricks that she’d learned in Dona Floripes’s house; whenever she was nude in front of Mattos, her heart would pound, and he must be able to feel that with his fingers. Her body trembled.
“Yes, I can hear your heart beat.” He turned his back to her, picked up the book, and left the bathroom.
Salete retrieved her clothes from the floor and dressed sadly. She went back to the living room. Mattos, his elbows supported on the table, was deeply absorbed in reading the book in front of him. Salete left in silence, without the inspector noticing.
IN THE SENATE GARAGE , Senator Vitor Freitas, accompanied by his aide Clemente, got into the official car at his disposal and ordered the driver to take them to the Aeronautics Club. The club, on Marechal Ancora Square, wasn’t far from the Senate; normally the car would arrive in less than ten minutes, but that day, after half an hour stuck on Avenida Presidente Antonio Carlos, the senator got out of the car and, along with his adviser, walked the rest of the way.
A crowd was at the door of the club, and several times Vitor Freitas had to invoke his status as senator to finally be allowed to enter.
The coffin with the body of Major Vaz had just been sealed and was being covered with the Brazilian flag.
“We’re late,” Clemente said.
“Where’s the brigadier, Eduardo Gomes? I need for him to see me here,” said Vitor Freitas. The brigadier had been the UDN presidential candidate in 1946 and 1950. In the first election, he had lost to General Gaspar Dutra, who had been Vargas’s secretary of war during the dictatorship. In the second, he had lost to Vargas himself, an unexpected victory for the ex-dictator, who thus avenged himself on one of the military officers who had led the movement that deposed him in 1945. Despite being twice defeated, the brigadier maintained in the eyes of the middle class the romantic aura as a revolutionary hero acquired during the episode of the Eighteen of the Fort, on July 5, 1922: seventeen officers and soldiers and one civilian left Copacabana Fort and headed for the Catete Palace, where the commander of the fort had been taken prisoner for insubordination, ready to fight an unequal battle. They were marching along Avenida Atlântica when they were attacked by forces loyal to the government of President Epitácio Pessoa. The civilian and a lieutenant died. Three officers, among them Eduardo Gomes, were seriously wounded.
Clemente spotted the brigadier in the middle of a group of air force officers and civilians. But Freitas was unsuccessful in offering his desired
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