Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s Sunday and time to meet the book club to see what they’ve unearthed.
We gather at Mercado de Bolh?o, a historic market in the centre of Porto.
Hazy sunlight spills across colourful displays of fresh produce and local delicacies, and the sound of so many voices echo around the cavernous space.
It’s my idea of hell but anything for my new friends, right?
Shoppers use pull-behind shopping carts that roll over my feet with alarming regularity, while vendors yodel at full volume about having the freshest fruit and vegetables.
There’s the clink of the metal scales, the rapid fire of Portuguese accents haggling over prices and the briny scent of seafood in the air, but it’s a shopper’s dream, if you don’t mind all of that.
Chaos. All the better for us to hide amid it, as we tackle the Curious Case of the Missing Book Club Member.
And Zephyr has to pick up some groceries and asked us along for the ride to help her practise her basic Portuguese language skills.
Old Albert arrives, taking a swizzle from his hip flask. ‘Good morning. Quite the crowd, eh? I had to go through all of this yesterday when my wife spent the better part of an hour bargaining over the price of chourico and cheese.’
Zephyr appears, tapping Albert on the shoulder. ‘And I bet you had no problems eating it later?’
Old Albert’s eyes crinkle in the corners. ‘Oh, there she is, my conscience, always ready to remind me I’m a misogynist. Or was it sexist? All of the ists.’
Zephyr laughs. ‘Someone’s got to. Anyway, we don’t have time for the boomer in denial thing today.’
Tiago arrives with his usual wide grin in place.
It’s interesting knowing there’s more behind that grin, it masks his grief, his displacement.
The comforting hug we shared lingers in my mind, that moment where time stood still and I hoped to radiate through touch alone that I understood, probably better than anyone.
‘Did you tell them what we found out?’ Zephyr bounces on her toes as she snatches old Albert’s hip flask from him. ‘We talked about this. It’s not good for you.’
‘You sound just like my granddaughter back home.’ Old Albert’s rheumy eyes glitter as if his new friend makes a good stand-in for a granddaughter he misses.
These two constantly surprise me with their banter.
‘And no, I most certainly did not blurt out our find. I figured we’d share that with the book club together. ’
‘Speaking of –’ Tiago scans the crowd – ‘no Thomas?’
‘No.’ Zephyr’s mouth turns down. ‘I sent him a message just in case, but he reiterated that he was busy today.’
I send her a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, in a whodunnit the sceptic usually comes around.’ What I don’t mention is it could be possible that he’s the twist, a part of the plot. In this case, I just don’t see it, but red herrings abound in whodunnits, so I reserve judgement.
‘I don’t think I can handle any more drama.’ Zephyr laughs. ‘Anyway, can I have a drum roll …’
‘It’s just not feasible,’ I say since we’re standing around in a huddle in the middle of the market being constantly bumped into by shoppers.
‘OK, no drum roll.’ Zephyr cocks her head as if I’m the strange one. ‘Lucinda owns Pastelaria História.’
I gasp. Interesting …
My mind snaps back to the Wednesday when Tiago surprised me with the rapid expansion of our book club and the waitress offered me Jésuita as thanks for the extra afternoon patrons.
I asked her if the pastelaria was a family-run business and she replied: It’s my aunt’s place, we run it for her.
She stays mostly out of the way. And then the waitress side-eyed Lucinda and I thought nought of it.
I share this with the book club. ‘Foreshadowing, and it blew straight past me.’ My shoulders slump.
Are my detective skills so sorely lacking?
How could I miss such an obvious clue? What else might I have missed?
Social anxiety has a lot to answer for. I’d been so worried about our book club bulging out to six humans that it’d all been white noise.
‘Well, you weren’t to know,’ old Albert says, giving me a supportive smile.
‘How did you get the waitress to spill the beans?’ Tiago asks.
At a nearby stall the frutária calls out, ‘Get your juicy peaches!’ and his rival yells back, ‘Come to me for the plumpest peaches in Porto!’
Zephyr grins at the memory. ‘We complimented her about the pastries and how you can tell the difference between mass produced and family made, and it was a wonder they weren’t busier since their range was clearly baked in-house.’
‘Well, this got her to talking about her aunt, who won’t let them renovate the interior.
Won’t let them make any changes at all and that she doesn’t understand why, but that the aunt won’t listen to reason.
Wants the place to stay as it is, quiet, even if she loses money.
Isn’t that strange?’ old Albert says. ‘Those peaches do look plump.’ He slowly wanders closer.
Stuck between the two men who now vie for his attention, calling plump, juicy, luscious, freshest!
‘So how did it come out that Lucinda was the owner?’ Tiago asks.
Old Albert wanders back. ‘Zephyr picked up on it. Most people flock to the busier cafés on the Cais da Ribeira by the Douro River, or along Avenida dos Aliados, so who would want their own business to remain quiet? An introvert, that’s who.’
‘And you suspected Lucinda?’ I ask.
Zephyr shakes her head. ‘Not at first. I suspected someone like us, someone who wanted to stay off the beaten track and enjoy the quiet. As our chat continued, the waitress mentioned that her aunt had been coming in more often recently to do some work, and then to relax. So, mostly joking, I asked if it was one of us from book club and she said yes! But made us promise not to breathe a word of it to Lucinda, because she values her privacy above all else.’
‘Wow,’ I say, impressed. ‘Is the waitress worried that Lucinda is missing?’
‘We did mention how weird it was that she’s suddenly missed book club and the waitress completely shut down after that. Got a bit squirrely, actually.’ Old Albert pulls a face. ‘As if she regretted telling us so much.’
‘Right. What work do we think Lucinda does at the pastelaria? Did she give any clues about that?’
Zephyr shakes her head sadly. ‘No. But Lucinda mentioned focus groups on the phone that time, so maybe that’s why she likes the pastelaria quiet, so she can hold the sessions there?’
I wrinkle my nose. It doesn’t make any financial sense. No one would buy a pastelaria just to have a venue to host focus groups.
‘There must be more to it.’ Not many answers, just more questions. I drag my gaze to my trusty sidekick to see what he makes of this only to find him chatting away to a stall owner before he returns with chocolate-covered strawberries.
‘For you, Viviane.’
I’m about to admonish him for leaving discussions at a pivotal time, but he’s wearing his sweet goofy smile and for some inexplicable reason it melts a part of my cold, frosty heart. I take the proffered strawberries and try to get my brain to re-engage.
‘Any developments your end?’ Zephyr asks as old Albert finally gives in and buys fresh juicy peaches from both the frutarias.
When he returns, I say, ‘The Man in the Blue Beret may have followed me.’ I catch them up on developments including his attempts to take an illicit picture at the park. ‘I haven’t mentioned him to you yet because I didn’t have any evidence that he was connected but now it seems that he might be.’
‘Ooof. Sketchy AF.’ Old Albert is inordinately impressed with his usage of Gen Z lingo and can’t contain his smile, to which Zephyr replies with a groan.
‘So how does he fit into this?’ Zephyr asks. ‘And why take a picture?’
‘That’s not all,’ I say. ‘I have a feeling he’s been following me since then, specifically when I take my daily walk around Jardim da Cordoaria.
I can’t prove it, just a feeling.’ When I take my daily walk to check in on my trio of mysteries, I’ve caught a flash of cornflower blue.
Could be wishful thinking, since I am proficient in many martial arts disciplines and would love a chance to dust off my skills.
‘What!’ Tiago screeches. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this earlier, Viviane?’
Upon reflection this is an oversight on my part. ‘I didn’t have any proof and didn’t want to needlessly alarm you. As my sidekick though, you should have been informed.’
‘A man is taking pictures of you, and you think he’s following you. You don’t need proof you need a – a bodyguard.’ Tiago’s eyes widen, he gets jittery and takes it out on his hair.
Seeing Tiago all het up is rather adorable but I keep that to myself. ‘I’m a modern-day woman and do not need a man to provide protection if that’s what you’re implying, Tiago?’
‘Well, it doesn’t need to be a man, of course, a woman could also provide protection, but I’m on your team so therefore it should be me.’
‘Hate to say he’s right,’ Zephyr grimaces, ‘but he’s right. You should be a bit more careful while we figure this out. Travel in pairs, that kind of thing.’
‘We need to carry out a sting,’ old Albert says, his voice pitching with excitement.
I cock a brow. ‘I’m listening.’ I’ve always wanted to say that in the right moment.
‘Let’s walk and talk. Walk and talk,’ he says with an air of mystery.
‘A sting, no one is ever going to believe me when I tell them what Porto was like,’ Zephyr says with a laugh.