Harry Rawlins watched Jimmy weave his way through the checkered tablecloths of the street cafe toward the little bar at the rear. He gestured toward the garden where Harry was sitting, talked briefly to the barman, grabbed another bottle of wine and brought it back. Harry realized that he hadn’t seen Jimmy without a can of beer or a glass of something in his hand since he’d arrived, and his drinking only seemed to be getting worse. Jimmy slumped down at the table, still dressed in the same sweat-stained suit and T-shirt.

  “Should be here any minute, Harry, no problem, and I’ll tell you, if that wife of yours is in Rio, he’ll find her. I’ve used him before, he knows what he’s doing.” He gestured for Harry to pass his glass over but Harry shook his head. Jimmy swigged a mouthful of the wine and gritted his teeth. “Christ almighty! This stuff’s rotgut!” He looked up as a taxi drew up to the curb. “Here he is.”

  Harry watched as the yellow cab pulled alongside three other taxis, their drivers dozing in the front as they waited for a fare. Tony Ramirez did seem to be a cut above the rest of the drivers; there was a sharpness to his clothes, and he also seemed to know everybody in the bar. He was laughing and patting a number of men on the shoulder as he looked round the tables. He nodded over to Jimmy and, seemingly in no hurry, walked across to their table.

  Jimmy was already pouring a glass of wine for him. “Tony, this is my friend I was telling you about—Harry Rawlins.”

  Tony smiled, gold teeth glittering in his mouth. He picked up his wine and tapped the edge of Rawlins’ empty glass. “Nice to meet you.”

  Despite a thick accent, Tony was obviously able to speak and understand English very well. He looked from one man to the other.

  “So, you wanted to see me?” Although he directed the question to Jimmy, Harry felt he was really talking to him.

  Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, my friend here is looking for a woman. Need to ask a few questions round town, you know? She was staying at the Hilton Hotel. We didn’t wanna put our faces in there, for reasons that we needn’t go into right now, but we need to find her.”

  Tony turned to Harry. “You wanna find a woman, eh?”

  Rawlins nodded. “It’s my wife.”

  Tony laughed, drained the glass of cheap wine and pushed it across the table. “In Rio, most people try to lose their wives. This is very unusual, you understand, when a man wants to find his wife.” He threw his head back and started to laugh, but stopped short when he saw that neither Harry nor Jimmy were amused.

  Harry took over. “OK,” he said, “her name’s Dolly—Dorothy Rawlins. She booked in to the hotel last week. If she’s still in Rio I want you to find her, and as soon as you can.”

  Tony nodded. “She at the hotel now?”

  Jimmy interrupted. “Well, that’s for you to find out. And if she’s not, we want you to find out where the hell she’s gone! We haven’t got much time, Tony, so can you get a move on for us?”

  Tony turned toward Harry. “Why you can’t find her yourself? She in some kinda trouble?”

  Harry shook his head. “No, she’s in no trouble. I just wanna find her, OK?”

  Tony shrugged. “OK, I’ll ask questions. You gonna be round here for a while?”

  Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be here.”

  “You pay me in dollars, OK, Jimmy?” Tony said.

  Jimmy looked to Harry and Harry nodded.

  “Just get cracking, OK?” Harry said.

  “What she look like?”

  “She’s blonde, about five-eight, mid-forties, well dressed,” Harry answered.

  Tony smirked at Harry, as if to say, “What you wanna find an old woman like that for?” He got up from the table. “See you around, then.”

  As Tony walked away, Jimmy picked up the bottle of wine and leaned across the table. Harry again put his hand over his empty glass.

  “No thanks, Jimmy, and why don’t you try layin’ off it for a while?”

  Jimmy looked hurt. “Come on, Harry, I can handle it. I know what I’m doing.”

  Harry shrugged. He was watching Tony as he walked back to his taxi. He seemed in no hurry as he laughed and chatted with a couple of the other taxi drivers.

  Harry turned to Jimmy. “What the fuck does he think he’s doing? We haven’t got all night.”

  “Hey, come on, cool it, Harry, just relax. If she’s in Rio, he’ll find her.”

  Harry reached for the bottle of wine. He looked hard at Jimmy. “I hope to God you’re right.”

  He poured himself a glass and tossed it back. It burned the back of his throat. Jimmy was right—it was rotgut.

  Linda looked at herself in the long mirror and wished that Shirley or Bella were still around. She wasn’t sure about the dress. It was Bella who had pushed her into buying it. She stood back. Maybe Bella was right: the bright red silk did set off her suntan a treat, but she still wished that Shirley had been there to do her hair or tell her what jewelry to wear. She put on some gold looped earrings, thought she looked a little too like Carmen Miranda, and decided instead to wear none. She was still wondering whether she should put her hair up or down when she heard the front doorbell go. She’d been so absorbed in getting dressed that she hadn’t heard the Rolls-Royce coming up the drive. She quickly picked up her small evening bag, checked her keys and ran down the stairs.

  José Camarana himself was at the door. The chauffeur stood by the Rolls with the passenger door open.

  José smiled. “I’m sorry, are we a little late?”

  Linda had no idea what time it was, so she just shrugged and said, “No, it’s all right, it’s fine.”

  He stepped back to look at her. “May I say you look absolutely beautiful.”

  Unsure how to reply, Linda just grinned and said, “Oh, thanks very much. Bella picked it.”

  He guided her toward the car, and Linda bent to get in, bumping heads awkwardly with the chauffeur as he tried to help her into the car. Flustered, Linda scooted in and settled into the seat next to Bella. Bella eased over slightly, not wanting Linda to crush her dress.

  Wow, thought Linda. Bella really did look stunning. She had on a pure white chiffon gown and a simple white wrap. It set off her black skin to perfection. She wore diamond studs in her ears, and, of course, the diamond on her hand. Linda also noticed that she now wore a diamond bracelet. She thought she’d sound silly if she told Bella how beautiful she looked, so she just sat in embarrassed silence, wondering if it would have been less awkward if they’d let José sit between them.

  Oh, sod it, she thought, leaning back in the seat. “Well, this is all very nice, isn’t it?”

  José got into the front passenger seat, nodded to the driver, and they drove slowly out of the villa. They traveled in silence for a moment, the only sounds the cultured purr of the engine, then José and Bella both started to speak at once. They looked at each other and did a kind of secret smile. Then José turned to Linda.

  “Have you been to this club before?”

  Linda shook her head.

  “I think you will like it. The cabaret is—” again, that rather strange look between him and Bella—“I think rather special. But I won’t say anything more until we get there. I wouldn’t want to spoil it. Are you comfortable?”

  Linda nodded.

  Again there was a silence. Bella looked at her watch.

  “Shirley’ll almost be in LA by now.”

  José started talking about LA, how fond of it he was, and making general chit-chat, while Linda just sat there feeling like a gooseberry stuck between these two lovebirds, who obviously would have much preferred to be alone together.

  Thankfully the journey didn’t take very long, and soon they were entering the grounds of the club. Linda could see tennis courts and fountains; it was just like José said—a spectacular place. The car pulled up at the main entrance and the chauffeur opened the door. José offered his hand to Linda, who almost tripped over the hem of her dress as she stepped out, hitching it up just in time with a “Thanks very much.” She hovered there, expecting Bella to follow, but Bella was sitting, calmly waiting, while the chauffeur went round to the other side of the car and helped her out. Taking the chauffeur’s arm momentarily, she then came round and linked arms with José.

  “Right, all set?”

  Again they looked at each other; again that secret, intimate smile.

  José offered his arm to Linda, she hooked hers through it, and the three walked up the entrance steps of the club.

  The doorman jumped to attention when he saw them. “Good evening, Mister José.”

  Linda was impressed.

  As they entered, the maître d’ came up to them with a bow. “Good evening, Mr. Camarana. Good evening, madame,” he said to Bella. And finally a polite nod to Linda.

  José turned to Bella. “Would you want to go to the powder room?”

  Bella walked off with a smile. He turned to Linda, as if expecting her to follow, but she didn’t move.

  After a moment’s silence, Linda said, “Funny, isn’t it? She spends hours gettin’ ready and as soon as we get here she’s in the toilet!”

  He nodded distractedly. Already he was smiling and waving to another group entering the club, and a beautifully dressed woman called out to him, then blew a kiss. Linda felt like a lump, then suddenly realized she was still clinging to José’s arm. She released her hold and clutched her handbag instead. She was thinking that maybe she should go to the powder room after all when Bella reappeared, followed shortly by Filipe, the elegant head waiter, who stopped to greet them with the same deference as the maître d’, paying particular attention to Bella, who inclined her head almost regally. Linda could have spat. She couldn’t believe Bella was behaving as if she’d been brought up in a bloody place like this.

  The next minute the three were walking toward the entrance of the main club room. The orchestra was playing something that Linda didn’t recognize as they were led toward a booth. Everywhere were men in elegant evening suits and women in gorgeous gowns, dripping with diamonds.

  So this is the rich set of Rio—the set, Linda thought.

  And at every table they passed, José Camarana seemed to know either the woman or the man, stopping to introduce Bella and Linda. But despite his gracious manner, Linda couldn’t help feeling like a well-dressed maid, brought along as part of the retinue.

  They reached their booth and José seated himself between the two girls. He looked from one to the other and smiled. “I’m a very lucky man! I am with the two most beautiful women in the room.” But Linda noticed that he only had eyes for Bella.

  “Don’t suppose you got any spare males hanging round ’ere that could come and join us? I feel like a bit of a gooseberry here!”

  José smiled. “But of course, if you would like someone to join us.”

  Bella placed her hand over José’s. “I think we’re fine as we are. This is our night, just the three of us—let’s enjoy it.”

  A waiter appeared with a bottle of Dom Perignon in a silver ice bucket, while another brought three fluted champagne glasses. He spoke in French to José, who replied fluently. Linda was beginning to feel seriously out of her depth.

  The champagne poured, José lifted his glass and said, “To my beautiful women—cheers.”

  Linda drank the champagne back in one gulp and put her glass down on the table, only to realize that José and Bella had merely sipped delicately at theirs. She could have kicked herself, especially when the waiter instantly appeared and refilled her glass.

  Ah well, what the hell, she thought. Might as well have a few drinks and try and relax a bit.

  As she raised her glass to her lips, José leaned forward and touched Linda’s hand. For a moment she thought he was suggesting that she shouldn’t drink any more, and was about to give him a piece of her mind, when he said, “I think perhaps if we eat after the cabaret—would that suit you?”

  Linda gulped her champagne and nodded.

  “I think that would be fine,” Bella agreed.

  The orchestra struck up a rousing Afro-beat music, and as the lights began to go down, the glass floor lit up. There were shouts and whoops as the stage was filled with women—twenty-four staggeringly beautiful girls in tiny, sequined G-strings and bras, their lithe bodies oiled and shining. The women flowed across the stage, their feathered headdresses in brilliant peacock colors swaying to the beat.

  Linda found herself getting caught up in the atmosphere. She grinned at Bella and Bella smiled back politely.

  Oh, Christ, I wish she’d drop this Lady Muck act, Linda thought, but the women on stage were so mesmerizing, so outrageous, so much larger than life, that she quickly forgot her annoyance.

  She nudged José. “Those women are amazing! They’re all so tall!”

  José leaned in and whispered, “They’re all men.”

  “What?”

  He smiled. “Yes, men.”

  Linda’s jaw dropped. “Fuck me!” She felt a kick under the table from Bella. “You havin’ me on?”

  He shook his head. “This is one of the most famous cabarets in Rio. They are . . .” He turned to Bella, said something in French.

  She leaned over. “Transvestites, Linda. They’re transvestites.”

  Linda’s eyes were drawn back to the exotic creatures, leaping and gyrating round the stage, She’d never seen anything so spectacular and amazing in her life. She turned back to Bella and José. José raised his glass, and all three started to rock with laughter.

  Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Jimmy was now well pissed, the second bottle of vino empty on the table. Harry had checked his watch maybe ten, fifteen times, and he was about to do so again when Tony’s cab finally pulled up. Again, he took his time to join them, stopping to chat to several people along the way, before casually sauntering up to Harry and Jimmy’s table and sitting down.

  “Well? You find out anything?” Jimmy asked eagerly.

  Tony nodded. “Yeah, yeah. You understand I’ve had to ask a lot of questions, I’ve had to—how d’you say it in English?—put out quite a few dollars.”

  “You’ll be paid back for whatever you’ve spent,” Harry snapped. “Just tell us what you’ve found out.”

  “Fifty dollars.”

  Jimmy leaned back in his chair. “Oh, come on, do us a favor! Twenty-five.”

  “Fifty. You don’t get information for nothing in this town.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “You’re having a laugh. How stupid do you think—”

  Harry had had enough. “Just pay the man what he fucking wants, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy pouted. “All right, twenty-five now and the rest if the information checks out. How about that?”

  Tony shook his head. “I already paid out this money, you understand?”

  Harry tapped Tony on the arm. “Don’t worry about the money. Now, what did you find out?”

  Tony took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “OK, I think I got the right woman. Does the name ‘Linda Pirelli’ mean anything to you?”

  Jimmy leaned across to Harry. “Joe Pirelli’s old lady? I remember Joe Pirelli. Wasn’t he part of your crew?”

  Harry gave him a cold, hard look. “Just go on, Tony, go on. Linda Pirelli and what?”

  “There was a Linda Pirelli, a blonde woman—girl, not your wife—and a black girl, O’Reilly. They leave their passports with the hotel, you understand? That’s how I have their names. O’Reilly, Pirelli—they book a suite at the Hilton Hotel. Two women join them, a young blonde one, and an older woman, but they don’t stay at the hotel, they spend maybe two, three hours there.”

  Harry was fighting to control himself. “Is she there? Did you find her?”

  Tony leaned back in his chair, letting Harry stew for a moment. He waved to a waiter, who brought another glass, then picked up the bottle and poured himself a glass of wine, clearly enjoying keeping the two men on tenterhooks.

  “OK, this is where you understand I have to pay out the money. I have a friend on the desk . . . Linda Pirelli, she go to the desk, she ask for villa rental information.” Tony sipped his wine and put down the glass slowly. It took all Rawlins’ willpower not to take him by the scruff of the neck and shake the information out of him.

  Eventually, Tony explained that Dolly Rawlins, Linda Pirelli, Shirley Miller and Bella O’Reilly had rented a villa on the outskirts of town for at least two months, paying in advance—in cash.

  “You know where it is?” Harry asked.

  “Sure,” Tony replied.

  “And you can take us there?”

  “That will be another fifty dollars, you understand?”

  “OK, OK, a hundred dollars,” Harry agreed before Jimmy could start arguing. “Can you take me there now?”

  Tony nodded. All three got up, but Harry put a firm hand on Jimmy’s arm. “Not this time, Jimmy. I’ll go by myself. This is my business, OK?”

  Jimmy sat back down heavily. He looked hurt. “You really don’t want me along?”

  Harry patted his arm. “No thanks, Jimmy. You’re pissed.”

  Jimmy slumped back into his seat and watched them go. Harry could be a right bastard sometimes. He wasn’t pissed, it was the heat. And if he did drink in this heat, he just sweated it out anyway.

  Jimmy’s hand was shaking as he reached for the bottle. He spilled a little of the wine over the rim of the glass. Perhaps Harry was right. He thought about Maria and what she would say to him when he got back to the flat. He pushed the glass away and looked round for the waiter.

  A cup of good, strong coffee and I’ll be fine, he told himself.

  Linda was now clapping her hands and singing along with the cabaret, as the girls strutted round the stage for their final extravaganza, belting out, “Oh-oh, vol-a-re, da-da-da-da . . .” She adored the fact that the girls sauntered up to the tables closest to the cabaret floor, flaunting their crotches and encouraging people to tuck money into their G-strings.

  Bella watched her singing, laughing, clapping, and having an all-round good time, fueled by the champagne that had been steadily flowing since the cabaret began.