Death in Rio: The Rio Conspiracy

By E. Bamford

Murder! Mystery and Mayhem

Convinced that her cousin’s death was not an accident Kate Berrisford travels to Rio de Janeiro, determined to uncover the truth.

In a world of squalor, masked by the glamour of the carnival capital, she discovers a world where guns and knives rule. Gangs roam, abandoned children are killed and th

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. Bamford
• Release date: Jul 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781908135988

E. Bamford

E. Bamford writes about women who are faced with frightening dilemmas. Why are friends dying one by one? Who will be next? Was she pushed or did she jump? Will she be rescued or will she be killed? Can the police be trusted? Will the boy use the gun or the knife to kill her? Is the movie set jinxed? Is she guilty? The answers to all these questions and more can be found in Tales of Murder Series: Death Pledge; Death Pact and Death in Rio! Death Stings, Book One of the Chasing the Dead trilogy is a complete standalone story... but watch out... there is an underlying plot that will carry on for two more books, all featuring Sir James Marchant.

Book preview

Chapter One

As travel weary as she was, Kate Berrisford walked decisively through Rio de Janeiro airport, pulling her wheeled suitcase. Her cousin Julie was dead.

Julie had known every twist and turn of that cliff path.

She had jogged along it daily.

How could it have happened?

It was odd that Rio’s Chief of Police, Senhor Rodrigo Ganzi, had not granted permission for the postponement of Julie’s funeral. He had also been evasive about releasing the information on the person who claimed to have seen Julie fall; insisting in every telephone conversation that there was no reason for her to come to Brazil.

But she had come.

She was looking for answers and she intended to find them.

A man wearing a freshly laundered, white short-sleeved shirt stood holding a large printed card with her name written on it. Kate nodded to him and her designated driver took charge of her luggage. As they walked out of the airport large, glass sliding doors closed automatically behind them and Kate faltered, as the sultry heat engulfed her.

Then she smiled.

The sun.

It had been days since she had felt its warmth and she had missed it. On reaching the limousine, sent by the hotel, the driver placed her case into the roomy boot of the car whilst Kate settled into the back seat. The drive to her hotel was a relatively short one and for that Kate was thankful.

The limousine pulled to a stop alongside the main entrance to the hotel. When her driver got out and opened her door, the air conditioning cut off and she was once again shocked by the surge of heat.

After thanking her driver she was escorted into the hotel by a fresh-faced uniformed young man. Her high heels clipped the marble floor as she followed him across the light, airy, palatial foyer to the reception desk.

Large plants displayed on columns adorned every available space and in the middle of the room was an ornate circular table. A massive arrangement of flowers had been placed in the centre of it and Kate could smell the sweet perfume as she passed.

‘Good afternoon Senhora Berrisford. We have been expecting you.’ The middle-aged man said with a welcoming smile. His smooth tone dragged Kate’s mind away from her cousin’s incomprehensible death and back to the present day.

‘Can I have your passport please and will you fill in this registration card?’ He slid the card across the desk towards her along with a pen and Kate began to write. As her room had been booked in her company’s name the card took a little longer than usual to complete.

Kate smiled politely at him; she did not want to speak. She felt that, if asked, and she tried to explain her reasons for coming to Rio her eyes would fill and she would have to fight back tears. She didn’t want anyone to see that the Surrey Business Woman of The Year had a heart; a soft centre.

That was what Julie had said only the day before her death. So she stayed quiet.

After registering, she was taken by another member of staff to a suite overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. As soon as Kate was alone, she crossed the room, pulled back the sliding doors and stepped out on to the balcony. Leaning on the balustrade she gazed at the ocean.

Beautiful. I wish Julie could…

She tore her thoughts back to the ocean, its azure depths picking up the sun’s golden rays and throwing them across her balcony as if this day was just an ordinary day, as if she were on holiday.

As if…

The surf rippled hypnotically on to the sand and back out to sea again. Holidaymakers were beginning to pack up their belongings and drift back to their hotels. Kate looked again at the ocean.

If only you could talk.

A warm breeze brushed across her face and, for a fleeting moment, Kate wondered if she had made the right decision in coming.

Julie is dead and seeing her grave or talking to the person who had witnessed her fall isn’t going to bring her back.

But… something just didn’t feel right. The air tasted of mystery and Kate’s instincts had always been right, they had won her every business accolade possible and, they had never let her down.

An accident.

That’s what Senhor Ganzi had said, Leave it alone Senhora Berrisford.

Kate had taken his parting words as a challenge, not the warning of one who dealt with death more frequently than her.

Maybe he wanted me to stay away because Julie had cared for the street children. She had often said how they were an embarrassment to the government and the prominent people who live in Rio. Perhaps he was anticipating I could be trouble. I wonder why?

Kate shivered and drew back from the balcony – thinking about Julie and her accident was making her feel debilitated when she needed to be strong.

For my sake and for Julie’s.

Sitting on her bed she yawned as she sorted through the small, plain selection of jewellery that she had brought with her and suddenly remembered Julie saying it was not advisable to wear any jewellery, not even a wedding ring, when wandering around the city for fear of being mugged. Tourists are spotted a mile away.

She now realised she shouldn’t have bothered bringing any as it was far too hot to wear jewellery. She smiled to herself and thought if anyone tried to mug her they would get more than they bargained for.

Shaking her head, trying to dislodge the stream of negative thoughts, Kate showered, changed into a lightweight, blue and white cotton dress and left her room. Once outside in the now subdued heat she was greeted by a kindly looking man.

‘Senhora Berrisford? My name is Farno,’ he said shaking her hand. ‘I’m told you wish to be taken to Ed’s Place.’

‘That’s right.’

Kate was surprised that he should know, without question, where Ed’s Place was. She climbed into the back of an old, lovingly preserved, white Mercedes which smelt pleasantly of jasmine. The car then moved away from the hotel.

As Kate looked through the window at the landscape, she began to see why Julie had made her home in such a distant place. Brazil was electrifying, so very different from sleepy, leafy Surrey.

From the affluent bay area they drove up into the hills, skirting the favelas the shanty dilapidated hovels where homeless just about existed. It made her feel uncomfortable and she was glad when they had reached greener and affluent parts.

Looking ahead, Kate tried to get a better look at the iconic statue of Jesus Christ which stood proud on the summit of the Corcovado.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Farno remarked, certain that Kate would be impressed.

‘Yes, more beautiful than I ever imagined.’

‘Do you know it can be seen from almost every part of the city?’

‘Really?’

‘Yes – that holy statue protects us and gives us comfort.’

Comfort and protection.

Kate wasn’t convinced. It hadn’t protected Julie.

The car laboured as the road wound higher, until they reached a plateau and Kate was able to look down on the shimmering ocean.

Now, that is a truly comforting sight.

Ahead a dark, thick forest spread to the north and west, and in the distance, she could see a picturesque range of mountains shrouded in mist with their peaks peeping through an eerie, murky grey. She shivered then glanced behind her just in time to see the disappearing lights of the city. They were now in open country, miles from civilisation.

‘Are you here on holiday, Senhora Berrisford?’

‘Yes.’

‘For how long?’

‘I’m not sure at the moment.’

‘Maybe you’ll like it here and never go back,’ Farno laughed.

That was exactly what had happened to Julie.

She had come on holiday and after meeting the Donosos, had decided to stay.

‘I’m surprised that you know of Ed’s Place,’ Kate said, quickly changing the subject.

‘I’m a driver, I know Rio like the back of my hand. That’s what you English say, isn’t it?’ He laughed. ‘I often pass his bus. Have you heard about Ed’s bus?’

‘I have. I believe it’s quite a sight.’

She didn’t say she had seen pictures of it. She was too tired to be forced into explaining her reason for being in Brazil.

‘Yes, it is quite a sight – but that’s the idea,’ Farno chortled. ‘How long have you been in Rio?’

‘Only a couple of hours.’

‘A couple of hours! From England, you must be exhausted.’

‘You can say that again,’ Kate said wishing she had had time to lie on the comfortable hotel bed – she so needed to sleep – but duty called. Farno drove on and after a while turned the car to the right and joined an old neglected coastal road. They continued northwards, passing ruins and abandoned villages looking ghostly in the light of a half-moon.

Ed’s Place had been Julie’s home for a decade and yet it was only now, that Julie was dead, that Kate had made the time in her schedule to visit. She had always left it up to Julie to come to England. She wondered why, it was a question that often popped into her head.

Her mother, her aunt and uncle and Julie were all dead. She was now totally alone. The more Kate thought about her family, the more she felt grateful to them. Her aunt and uncle, who had given her a home after her mother had died and helped shape her into the woman she had become. Then there was Julie, she was not only her cousin but her very best friend. She owed them all, especially Julie.

‘We are almost here, Senhora Berrisford,’ Farno announced.

Kate could see his eyes in the rear view mirror, watching her, as he took his right hand off the wheel and pointed ahead. She looked and saw a walled complex emerging in the distance.

The entrance to the complex was through a huge, carved wooden door and above it sat a stone arched bell-tower. The ancient bell began to peel. Her taxi had been detected.

Kate knew the story of how the property had been built by monks. In those days it was used as a Christian mission, until torrential rains in the early 20th century had flooded the area. Water had surged down from the mountains and swept away whole villages. The area was left in a ruined state until Dr. Eduardo Donoso and his wife Bettina rescued it and it was due to their love and care in reclaiming the land that they came to be known affectionately as Ed and Betti.

The survivors of the flood believed that the gods had caused the catastrophe and that, if such a deluge had happened once, it could happen again. Ed and Betti had also considered the possibility of a reoccurrence, but had decided that it had been a freak event.

In time, Ed and Betti raised the necessary funds and set about the laborious process of renovating the mission. As the well, in the centre of the courtyard, had dried up long ago Ed began searching for other underground sources of water.

Over the following months he dug wells, installed a pumping system and laid pipes to take the water to the complex. He also built a septic tank, installed a petrol-driven generator and began to make the complex habitable. After months of toil, Dr. Donoso had created a refuge for a few of Rio’s abandoned street children.

His initial objective was to offer a home for a few children, to educate and give them a new start in life. Since then the property has been extended many times, as more and more children were rescued and, for the past decade, Julie, who had felt passionately about the project, had worked alongside the internationally acclaimed couple.

Now Kate was about to step into Julie’s world.

Although she had never met the couple, Kate recognised them from the photos and home movies that Julie had sent her. They had also spoken many times on the telephone and, as they approached her car, their instantly recognizable voices rose over the excited chatter of the group of children who followed in their wake. Farno brought the Mercedes to a stop.

Kate opened her door tentatively; worried about the welcome – or lack of it – which she may receive from the Donosos as she had arrived a day earlier than planned.

Would they mind?

Their ready smiles told Kate that her fears were unfounded. As her heels touched the dusty ground the children instantly surrounded her. They reached out to her, stroking her long dark hair, touching her face and pulled her sunglasses from her eyes. Kate drew back as the last rays of sun caught her off guard and smiling she fought tears at the sight of the welcome. She felt like a prodigal daughter returning home.

Was this why Julie did not want to leave?

The children clamoured for her attention. She heard a mixture of English and Portuguese being spoken but she could only understand a few words. Her name alongside Julie’s was being called over and over.

Before leaving England, Kate had spent the evening looking at the photographs Julie had sent over the years, whilst remembering the tales that went with them.

What was happening around her was becoming less strange by the second. Betti raised her voice and shouted something in Portuguese to the children who then became quiet. Turning her attention to Kate she opened her arms wide. ‘Welcome, Kate.’ Kate watched as Betti started to cry and they walked towards each other, knowing that words were now not important.

‘Tears of joy, Kate,’ Ed said.

His deep voice and accent were even more attractive than Kate had remembered from their many telephone conversations and his brown eyes shone from his weathered face.

His photographs do not do him justice.

‘We’re delighted you’ve come,’ Ed said, shaking Kate’s hand. ‘We’ve waited a long time to see you in the flesh, so to speak. Far too long.’ He then held her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, as he evaluated her. Kate guessed he was thinking it strange that she was tall and dark, whereas Julie had been tiny and fair.

He pulled her towards him and as he hugged her he whispered: ‘I only wish it were under different circumstances.’

‘So do I Ed. So do I...’

Unlike her husband, Betti was just as she appeared in photographs. A trim, energetic woman in her mid-sixties and she wore the same yellow tee-shirt that all the children wore, along with blue jeans and, regardless of her age, looked great in them. Her once jet-black hair, now streaked with grey, was tightly fastened in a bun at the nape of her neck, and the lilt in her voice Kate had listened to so often sounded even more attractive. She immediately felt at ease in their company and was pleased that she had ignored the Chief of Police’s advice. Of course there was a need to come.

‘Where are your bags?’ Betti asked glancing around. ‘We were expecting you to stay with us.’

She sounded disappointed.

‘I wasn’t sure... do you have enough room?’

‘There is Julie’s room.’

Julie’s room.

Kate hadn’t given it a thought.

‘Nothing has been touched,’ Betti whispered.

‘We decided to leave it just as it was until you came,’ Ed said as he put his arm around Kate’s shoulders again, and began to lead her across the courtyard.

Betti, who couldn’t stop smiling reiterated. ‘We really would like you to stay with us. Julie always hoped you would be able to make it one day.’

‘Thank you. I’d like that, very much.’

In a day or two.

First, she had questions that needed answering and she was determined that the Chief of Police was going to answer them.

‘Come whenever you can,’ Ed said, with an understanding nod of his head.

It was a strange sensation being surrounded by so many children giggling and whispering behind cupped hands as they vied to get a closer look at her. Ed was nudged out of the way as two little girl’s grabbed hold of Kate’s hands and pulled her towards the main building.

A heavy, grating noise made her stop and turn. A few of the older children were pushing the huge door; it scraped along the dried earth and closed with a dull thud. The world had been shut out and all of those living within the walls of the old mission were safe and secure.

On entering the building, Kate noticed a waif-like child with black, saucer-like eyes standing apart from the other children, sucking her thumb. The girl watched with apparent interest at what was happening and yet she appeared reluctant to join in.

Ed clapped his hands; spoke in Portuguese and then the children were hurried off to bed by helpers from the village.

‘Goodnight, I’ll see you all again,’ Kate shouted as they clattered up the old stone steps towards their bedrooms.

After two pots of coffee had been consumed and almost half a large banana cake Kate hugged the couple and wished them goodnight. As she left she glanced up, smiled and waved to some of the older children who had been leaning over a balcony to catch sight of her leave. She climbed into the Mercedes and Farno began the journey back to her hotel.

As they sped through the night, Kate went over in her mind all she had heard and seen. To be thrust into Julie’s world had proved more exhilarating than she had expected. And her restless thoughts wandered to her own childhood and the time when she lived with her mother in a tenement block in Brixton.

Out of school hours she would help at the local vegetable market by sorting through produce, stacking boxes and brushing up the discarded outer leaves of vegetables. She was paid in kind; told to help herself to as much fruit and vegetables as she liked.

Her lips curled as she remembered being enthralled by the trader’s conversations when they spoke of what had sold well that day, what was coming into season and most thrilling of all, their profit.

After giving her mother as much of the produce as she could use she would then go knocking on her neighbour’s doors and sell the remainder cheaper than the market traders could sell it.

That marked the beginning of her entrepreneurial career.

She had been extremely happy then – but one day her world changed forever; it was the day she’d been taken to Guildford to live with her uncle, aunt and cousin, Julie.

On that day, winter was at its worst. Her mother had been ill for weeks and Kate had earned just enough money to buy her favourite food: Indian chicken passanda, rice and naan bread.

As the car travelled on under the light of a half-moon a lump came into her throat. She remembered how she’d taken the parcel of food from the Buddha Palace restaurant and raced across the road.

She’d weaved through the derelict park, where only two out of the four swings still worked and then hurried alongside the graffiti scrawled walls of Polson’s cake making factory, arriving cold and out of breath at their block of council flats.

Determined not to contaminate the precious present with the foul stench of the lift, used so often as a urinal, she had taken the stairs two at a time then run along the corridor of the fourth floor to her front door.

Kate shuddered, as she recalled the fat lady from number thirty-nine and the disgusting odour which always surrounded her. She remembered clasping her hand over her nose and mouth to stem the vileness of it.

‘Kate Berrisford there you is… I’ve been ‘ollering for you and thought you’d lost your ears!’

Talk about timing. What did the old bat want now? Why didn’t she leave us kids alone?

Kate remembered swearing and had hoped that her mother hadn’t heard. She wasn’t allowed to swear but all of the other kids did. Her mother’s meal was getting cold. She remembered grabbing the flap of the letterbox and yelling through it.

‘Mum! Hurry up… the door’s stuck.’

With outstretched arms and mumbling curses the fat lady had waddled closer.

‘Now, now, stop making such a fuss. I need to talk to you.’

The fat lady had tried to grab her arm but she’d yanked it away.

‘My Mum’s waiting for this,’ Kate had yelled.

‘You just come ‘ere – ye little tyke.’

The fat lady had snarled at Kate as she’d made yet another attempt to catch her, but this time she got hold of her coat and, struggling to get away, Kate had kicked the fat lady, who reeked of deep fried food, in the shins.

‘Gerr off me, you old bat.’

But the more they’d grappled, the more the fat lady had tightened her grip.

‘Mum... Mum... Mum.’

Then, in a split second, it was all over. The prized parcel fell and, as the paper bag burst, its contents splattered on the passageway. Too shocked to utter a sound Kate had stood staring at the chunks of chicken and the sauce as it began to inch its way along the uneven concrete. In one last desperate attempt to save the day she had thrown herself against the door and yelled again through the letterbox.

‘Mum, open the door. Mum she’s after me. Please, Mum...’

She would never forget that terrifying feeling when her mother had not answered the door. Then, amidst all of her confusion, she had felt a much softer hand resting on her shoulder.

‘Kate... that is your name, isn’t it?’

Stunned with fear she remembered turning to face the speaker and saw a policewoman. Too frightened to run, she’d lowered her eyes and once again stared at the broken bag that only seconds before had contained the irreplaceable meal; bought in the hope of making her mother better. It lay abandoned, fast becoming an unexpected banquet for the hordes of flies that inhabited the neglected building.

Then she heard the voice again, but did not, at the time, connect it with any sort of reality.

‘Kate, your mother has died.’

That day a scruffy, defiant, ten-year-old with a tear-stained face had stepped inside the only home she had ever known to say goodbye to her mother. A short while later she had emerged heartbroken, orphaned and determined to never feel so hurt again.

Chapter Two

With the shutters closed, the inner glazed windows secured and the bolts slid firmly into place, Jose Mendoza lifted the plank of carved polished wood, which leant against the roughcast white wall of the room, and slotted it into the wooden brackets on either side of the window. Then he went into each room and repeated the operation. But he knew it was a deterrent, nothing more.

Jose was one of Rio’s privileged. The house he owned had been built by his great, great grandfather in the days before guns and drugs ruled. It consisted of three bedrooms, two living rooms, one kitchen and two bathrooms. From the living room a door led into a rambling studio, which overlooked a large garden.

Apart from designing custom-made furniture, Jose made beautiful and imaginative works of art from driftwood. With the right kind of break he hoped his creations would, one day, command the highest of prices. His talent for working the wood had been inherited from his father and grandfather.

As he made his home secure, his thoughts strayed to Senhora Raymond, the wife of a prominent banker. Three times a year she held a charity event where the rich and famous just had to be seen. The money raised from the evening was to go towards building a school at Ed’s Place and Jose had been asked to show, and hopefully sell, some of his work at the event. It was the break that he had been waiting for and one that might lead him to exhibit in one of the exclusive Rio galleries.

He opened the drawer of his bedside cabinet and took out the .357 Magnum that had belonged to his father. It was an old design; the dealers and gangs had the most up-to-date weaponry, but he had practised with his father’s gun since he was a child and knew it well. It had a muzzle velocity of around 1250 ft. per second and could generate an average of 535 pounds of energy.

It was good enough for his purpose.

He strapped the holster to his chest and placed the gun snugly into it. He then filled his pockets with reserve ammunition, and slipped a knife into his ankle holster. Completing his look by putting on a long black coat and beret he felt safe. He looked like a priest.

In this disguise he could wander wherever he liked in the favelas at night, without fear. Jose squeezed by his 1939 Granada 500cc Norton motorcycle, which he kept chained to two metal rings cemented into the floor of his bedroom. He thought of the trip that he planned to take with his young stepbrother around Argentina, following the exploits of Che Guevara. He had even named his own bike La Poderosa The Mighty One after El Che’s famous bike.

‘When can we go, Jose? This summer, please, please.’ The young boy’s words rang in his ears and he felt sad.

Jose set the alarm system, confident that if anyone other than he or Carlos were to open the door they would be in for one hell of a surprise.

The favelas had begun to encroach years before, forcing the Mendoza family to build an eight-foot wall around their property. Jose knew that he was as safe as he could be, living on the fringe of a small favela known locally, as The Snake.

The Snake was little more than a maze of narrow alleyways. No two homes were the same. They were built with an amalgamation of brick, concrete block, and corrugated iron, wood and scrap metal - anything that could be used to make some form of shelter.

These precarious homes, flanked by middle-class properties, crept up from a secluded bay to become attached to the larger favelas. These shanty-dwellings sprawled grimly for mile upon mile and dominated the hills around the city. The Snake, although slightly separated, was still regarded as the domain of the Men on the Hill who ruled over the favalas through gang bosses using a mixture of fear, intimidation, physical violence, drugs, guns and threats