CHASE

Chapter 22

     "Mr. Raimundo? Mr. Raimundo?"  A ten-year-old boy was knocking on the tavern window.

     "What do you think you're doing, Dário?"  He shifted grumpy.

     "It happened again! Come see!"

     "What happened? What are you doing here alone?"

     "Another girl showed up! And it was right in front of the judge's house."

     "Was it the daughter?"  He raised his voice.

     "No, none of that! They say she's the cousin, the assistant's daughter!"  It surprised Raimundo who looked worriedly at the group of men who kept their distance.

     "Come on, get out of here! Get moving and stop spying!"

·

     The sound of a massed exchange of phrases brought Aurora out of utter sleep. A little disoriented, she peeked through the curtains. There was a blanket that protected Noémia's nudity. Now, with a better view, she was faced with a distinctly pale corpse. She watched those around her for Orsmund's presence. She tried to resist fear and took all risks as she descended and approached her late cousin. Earlier, someone had closed her eyes glazed over with terror. Which gave the uncomfortable illusion, which slightly popped out of their sockets. The faded tone of her skin showed the degree of dehydration through her parched, brittle appearance. Especially, along the cheeks to the shoulders. Revealing, in a specific way, the state of her thinness. On the contrary, from the swollen neck with purplish circles, the cavity below the eyeball was greenish and blackened. Some insects began to appear. Aurora's scant comfort prevented her from other salient features. She turned away from the corpse then, coldly, rigidly.

     "You shouldn't have gone down like that!"  Her housekeeper held her firmly in both hands.

     "Let me go!"  She shook her with such firmness.

     "You have an image to respect!"  She exclaimed, gruffly.

     "I don't need to be reminded!"

     She ran back to her room where she shut herself up to cry for hours. This sorry reaction did not stem from the death of cousin Noémia, but from the future fate. Even if the deadly assassin was a monster, it was, without a doubt, the most likely way to get her out of the torturous hell. She was sure of that because, exactly one year ago, she had personally known the loathsome designs of her three suitors.

     Raimundo and his accomplices arrived at the scene and saw the body being lifted. They murmured among themselves, compromised by the infraction they had committed during the night. Hours later, they argued that Orsmund should be crossed off the list of suspects. With that, a riot was thrown into the air of the room where they were. They felt tied hands and feet. Despair reigned. The proposal of the presence of a demon arose. They would propose that people shut themselves in for the night.

     The tavern owner gathered the transgressive group with whom he had been before, and they set off towards a neighboring stay famous for housing those who traveled there. They believed they could get some clues related to Orsmund's disappearance.

     Rogério was the owner of the accommodation that called itself O Canto. When they burst into a small room that served as a hall, the receptionist was distractedly reading the pages of the local newspaper. Rubem, that was his name. He folded the sheets, half-closed. He was apprehensive because of the number of people.

     "We want to know if there was a tall, blond man here. With the name Orsmund."  Raimundo had been appointed spokesperson.

     "I'm not allowed to disclose. Just register."  He took a solid step forward.

     The men commented among themselves in protest. An older man with a heavy beard and well-proportioned entered through the door on the right that led to the common room.

     "What is it, Rubem?"

     "These gentlemen asked for information about a possible guest."

     "Please accompany me."  He addressed them.

     He held the door and reached out to encourage them to settle into the great room. Everyone settled around the small table, in detail, crafted on an enormous elaborate tapestry. The old man gestured for them to sit down. However, they stood with the camouflaged unease to which Rogério nodded.

     "How can I be useful?"  His tone of voice indicated, explicitly, that he didn't want any conflicts under his own roof.

     "We're looking for a man... known to us. His name is Orsmund."  Added Raimundo.

     "I see..."  He adjusted the glasses.

     "So, he came by?"

     "I can admit that."  He ignored the transparent impatience.  "However, if the objective is related to a mere visit, I want you to understand that I will not be able to allow it."

 "Why not? Did he say anything about past events?"  One of the men who was hiding in the shadows rushed.  "Did he call a doctor?"

     "Yes?! What a coincidence!" -He felt back when he saw, discreetly, another individual hit him with the elbow.

     "Did you see him?"  Interrupted Raimundo.

     "Unfortunately, not. A peasant who knows our house carried him around the back and asked me to call a doctor."

     "And being the owner of this why didn't you see him?"

     "There are, exceptionally, clients for whom we have the esteem of not interfering with their intrinsic orders. For now, he remains stable in his room. And now, gentlemen, if you will!"

     Rogério didn't like the direction it was taking, so he accompanied them outside to avoid any confusion. So, they left, albeit unconvinced. Although they swallowed that truth for now.

     Notably, this encompassing performance of cunning had begun with Orsmund's art of compulsion. This one made Rogério believe that he was paying him for the room. Which had been brought by the peasant. That a doctor had examined him. What existed was an empty and closed compartment. Curiosity waned when someone ventured down that corridor. Which meant that Orsmund had never been to or frequented that place.