The golden light of the late afternoon cut through the treetops in the central square, casting long shadows over the polished stone pavement. A soft breeze brought the calm movement of pedestrians enjoying the last hours of the day.
Walking side by side along the main flowerbed, Foxy and her companion enjoyed their walk. The man, with a striking presence and a visibly athletic build, exuded a subtle and impeccable woody perfume. He wore a casual blazer with a precise cut, a well-fitted linen shirt, and soft leather shoes. Holding hands with the detective, both were holding ice cream cones, exchanging short laughs and casual conversation under the clear afternoon sky.
A few blocks away, however, the atmosphere was completely different. Michael and Raniel were moving forward with cadenced steps along the secondary avenue.
— Alright, 'professor', let me ask you something — Raniel began, with his hands in his jacket pockets and a provocative smile at the corner of his lips. — Why this habit of playing vigilante? Who's the lucky winner this time?
Michael didn't even turn his face to look at him. His voice came flat, precise, and clean:
— Luiz Voolper. Thirty-eight years old, born in August. Nickname: 'The Broker'. Former logistics operator for the port sector. He worked facilitating arms smuggling and removing key witnesses in federal cases.
Raniel frowned, widening his eyes slightly before letting out a surprised whistle.
— Holy shit... You memorized the guy's entire file just by glancing at it once?
— Yes — Michael answered directly.
— Do you have that thing people call 'Mind Palace'? — Raniel asked, curious.
— No — Michael said. — It's more like a library.
— A Mental Library? — Raniel laughed, finding the term peculiar. — And what's the difference? Why a library?
— Because the information isn't scattered in abstract scenarios. It's organized and stored on each shelf of the library, separated by data, records, and categories. I can access any volume instantly when necessary.
— You are creepy, kid. For real — Raniel muttered, shaking his head.
The conversation ceased the instant Michael's gaze caught the figure of Luiz Voolper walking hurriedly about thirty meters away, near the bandstand. With an imperceptible nod of his head, Michael adjusted his route, and the two began to follow him from a distance, camouflaging themselves among the pedestrians.
The discreet pursuit made them cross the path of a wooden bench under the shade of a large fig tree. Sitting there, finishing their ice creams, were Foxy and her boyfriend.
The moment Michael passed by the side of the bench, Foxy raised her eyes by mere chance. The relaxed expression on her face froze instantly when she recognized the man with cold features just a few steps away.
She stood up from the bench in an immediate reflex.
— Michael? — Foxy called, her voice filled with genuine surprise.
Michael stopped his steps at the same instant. Raniel stopped right behind him, adjusting his jacket with an amused gleam in his eyes as he realized where the situation was heading.
Michael turned slowly to face her. The detective took a step forward, assessing him from head to toe with a furrowed brow.
— What are you doing here? — she asked, perplexed. — Shouldn't you be in jail?
Michael held Foxy's surprised gaze for a few seconds in silence. His mind processed the ideal answer before he pronounced each word with his usual serenity:
— I had my bail paid.
Foxy blinked, trying to absorb the information, but ended up letting out a sigh and relaxing her shoulders.
— I see... Well, anyway, it's good to see that you're okay — she said, showing a contained smile.
Raniel, who was watching everything from a box seat, didn't miss the opportunity. He leaned slightly to Michael's side and murmured in a tone audible enough to create embarrassment:
— Look at that, Michael... I didn't know you had such elegant friends. And here I was thinking your only company was the bedroom walls and that horrible tea.
Michael ignored Raniel's comment with absolute silence. His gaze slid to the charming man who had just stood up from the bench with extreme elegance, positioning himself next to Foxy and placing his hand protectively on her waist.
Noticing Michael's attention on her companion, Foxy smiled and gestured with her hand to introduce him:
— Michael, this is my boyfriend, Bartholomew.
Raniel stepped forward, crossing his arms with a mocking smirk:
— Bartholomew? What a fancy name! Sounds like the name of an eighteenth-century count. Nice to meet you, I'm the guy who stops this human popsicle here from dying of boredom.
Bartholomew extended his hand with a firm, friendly, and perfectly polite posture, ignoring Raniel's provocation and fixing his eyes on Michael:
— Nice to meet you, Michael. Foxy has told me about you.