“Senhorita,” Hans repeated. “And running around after kids. The Mop is crazy about kids.”

“Friendly, huh?”

“The damned mutt will go to anyone who calls him. Anyone. And then he slobbers all over ’em.”

“It would make him easy to steal, I suppose?”

“You suppose right. From what I understand, he cost a bundle, and Senhor Manfredo is scared to death of losing him. If I see The Mop is missing, I’m supposed to drop what-ever else I’m doing and go after him.”

“Doesn’t sound as if you like him much,” Tanaka said.

Gilda, following the conversation as she gently dug around the skull with her trowel, had a feeling that Tanaka had only asked the question to get a rise out of the caseiro.

If that was the delegado’s intention, it worked.

“Like him? Like him. Are you kidding?”

“So why don’t you let him get lost-permanently?”

“Because Senhor Manfredo would have a fit, that’s why. You should see the scene when he gets home from work. The Mop whining and licking, and Senhor Manfredo making little kissy-face sounds and stroking. I swear if The Mop learned how to cook, Senhor Manfredo would ditch Senhora Cristina and marry the dog. I lose that animal, and the next one out the door is going to be me. Senhor Manfredo would fire my ass in a heartbeat. First thing he asked me when I applied for the job was whether I liked dogs.”

“And you told him you did?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Hans said defensively. “In those days, I did. And then Senhor Manfredo calls The Mop, and The Mop jumps all over me, and I scratch The Mop behind the ear, and Senhor Manfredo gives me the job. Jesus, if I’d known what I was getting into, I would never have applied. Did you see all that hair? Senhor Manfredo wants it brushed every day. Every. Single. Day.”

Tanaka had, indeed, seen the hair. In fact, some of it was clinging to his pants-as was a stripe of Herbert’s drool- from earlier that morning when they’d stopped at the house to pick up their guide.