Requiem for a Killer by Paulo Levy Page A

been plastered, spackled and
painted like the rest of the wall. The smell of bricks and cement
he had noticed when entering the house was stronger here.
    “Did you remodel in here recently?”
    “Just yesterday, Inspector. There was a door
there that my clients came in and out of without needin’ to go
through the house. My brother didn’t much like my work. So I
thought it’d be better if he and my clients didn’t bump into each
other. That’s the reason for the door.”
    “So why did you close it?”
    “I got scared. I didn’t feel safe havin’ an
entrance straight from the street to my bed.” She squirmed where
she stood. “And you know, Inspector, even though I do what I do
deep down I’m really a family girl. I want my clients to feel
comfortable in my house, my life. I may rent out my body, but I
don’t sell my soul.”
    This Maria das Graças was incredible. As if
the mysteries of the universe were not enough, life now presented
him with a prostitute who had principles and morals. Dornelas liked
the woman.
    “What does your mother think of your
work?”
    “As long as there’s a roof over our heads,
food on the table and I don’t harm anyone, she couldn’t care less
what I do.”
    “What do you mean by harm anyone?”
    “Inspector, prostitution’s been around for a
mighty long time but nobody accepts us openly. When I say harm
anyone I’m sayin’ that the profession is looked at around here as a
threat to marriages and steady relationships.”
    “And isn’t that true?”
    “No way. In fact, you might even say we’re
like glue what keeps people together and society workin’. But
nobody wants to see it that way. They all like to pretend like
there’s nothin’ hiding under the rug, down below the surface. But
you more than most know that the real world is below the
surface.”
    “Are you trying to say that you’re a social
worker, that without prostitution society would fall apart?”
    “I’m sayin’ it would break up. And you cops
would have a real hard time pickin’ up the pieces.”
    “Isn’t that a little pretentious on your
part?”
    “Maybe. But there’s one thing I do know:
human beings can’t handle monogamy. At first a man wants to be with
one woman, just the one. He swears he’ll love her forever and
everythin’ is peachy-keen. Then after a while he starts to turn
around walkin’ down the street, lookin’ at all the asses on all the
hot girls goin’ by, and dreams of getting them all between the
sheets. When he gets back home and can’t get his wife to do half
the things he’s been thinkin’ about, whose bed do you think he goes
to? And if he can’t take out his frustrations in the warm body of a
woman who hugs him and stands by him, he drinks, he kills, he does
all sortsa bad things.”
    “Remember you’re talking to a police
inspector.”
    “I know that. But before bein’ a police
inspector, you’re a man.”
    “Well put.”
    “But don’t think women are any different.
They want a man around to help raise the kids and pay the bills.
But when the lights are turned off and she wants a man inside her,
it’s ain’t always the cock of the husband snoring beside her that
she’s thinkin’ of. Monogamy’s fine and dandy in front of a priest
or at a weddin’, but it’s often a livin’ hell in everyday life for
a couple. Are you married?”
    “I was until a short while ago.”
    “So you know what I’m talkin’ about.”
    Dornelas knew, but kept his mouth shut. He
didn’t want to pursue the subject. The pain from the separation was
still intense and he didn’t want to take off his police inspector
mask and let show how vulnerable the abandoned man was. Maria das
Graças was a practical woman, too practical, and it scared him.
    “Can you show me your brother’s room?” he
asked, in an attempt to change the subject.
    Maria das Graças left the room, took two
steps and unlocked and opened the door to her brother’s room. He
was faced with an