Chapter 2: In the Land of Strauss

The land of Strauss, Mozart, Freud, and the waltz academies was still in the midst of Spring with rising temperatures; tulips and other flowers blossomed in a sea of colors; the leaves on trees sprouted again, absorbing the sun’s warmth and spreading new joy. The scene was enchanting, perfect for tourists who were beginning to invade the country. But, Clara was there on a mission and every minute to find her sister was precious.

As soon as she arrived in the city and without checking in at the hotel, she went directly to the morgue to ask if a non-identified body had been delivered since the end of February. Irritated with the clerk at the front desk who gave her a form to fill out and request information, Clara almost rubbed her bronze badge from the Federal Police in his face, saying that she was there officially to find a missing Brazilian citizen. She was warned not to use her position as a foreign federal agent, nor use aggressive methods, the type often shown by police heroes in American movies, to proceed with her investigation, under penalty of being expelled from the country. Clara was smart, but far from being a riveting film star.

Her tactic with the clerk worked and in less than two minutes was taken to meet with the head of the morgue, an elderly man, polite and very professional. Despite his willingness to cooperate, Clara discovered nothing that could further her mission, yet relieved to know that her sister was not among the frozen bodies kept there. On the other hand, the head of the morgue suggested that she visit the local hospital where they might have a registry of a Brazilian patient. He offered to call the hospital director to let him know of her arrival. Clara appreciated his cooperation and left with new hope, giving the apathetic clerk a look of disapproval on her way out.

The visit to the hospital did not produce anything. Hungry and tired after a long flight and daylight slowly fading, Clara decided it was time to check in at the hotel and, after a warm shower, get something to eat. She wanted to get to bed early and take advantage of the next day in search of clues on the whereabouts of her sister. She tossed and turned, and was unable to fall asleep.

Staring at the dark ceiling of her room, Clara tried to identify and mentally arrange the pieces of a puzzle that were still difficult to understand. There was one question that kept swirling around in her head. What did Rebeca do when she was not at the pension?

Right next to the reception lobby, there is a dining room where the pension serves breakfast. The service is included in the monthly rent. The room is spacious, well illuminated by two large windows with heavy ruby-red curtains; decorative ceiling and wall moulding give it a refined look; paintings of bucolic country landscapes with ornate, gilded frames cover the walls; a Persian rug rich in details and exotic colors covers nearly the entire floor; two large chandeliers with an array of crystal drops make the room look like a palace. There are half a dozen small round tables covered with a peach-colored cloth and over it a smaller one, square, white and well starched. In the middle of each table, there are always fresh flowers in a small porcelain vase. Breakfast is the type they call here “continental,” similar to our simple one back home in Brazil, albeit with a connotation of nobility. Included is tea, coffee with cream or milk, a variety of breads, cheeses, cold cuts, and fruit preserves. At night, at 8 o’clock, they offer to those who are interested tea and cookies.

Close to the university library, I discovered a small restaurant called Alô Brasil which belongs to a couple from Rio de Janeiro. The husband came here to study classical music and fell in love with the country. The wife is an excellent cook and very simpatico. We agreed to a friendly price for me to eat lunch there every day. The food is home-style which the couple prepares for themselves with lots of variety like rice and pasta, beef and chicken, and bowls of salads. At night, I rarely eat supper, since lunch keeps me sufficiently satisfied. However, I do take advantage of the nightly tea at the pension almost every day before I retire to my room to study and then go to bed.

Images of Rebeca sipping tea and going to bed made Clara yawn. They were the last things that went through her mind before she herself fell into a deep, well-deserved sleep.