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CHAPTER THREE

All the way from Paris

Cristina’s days were nearly always the same. She began work at the museum at eight thirty and left at four thirty. Then she went to the gym after work and stayed there for about an hour and a half. Then she went back home. She sometimes stopped at the supermarket on her way. Roberto and Carlos watched her for six days until their plan to kill her was ready.

Cristina, on the other hand, did not feel that her life was the same as before. The museum and her hours were the same but her work was very different. The new exhibition was keeping her very busy and she was very happy.

Cristina was sitting in her office when the phone rang.

‘Hello, Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, Cristina Rinaldi speaking.’

‘Oh Cristina, hello.’

Cristina knew the French voice. ‘Hello Philippe. How is everything?’

‘Fine thank you. How are you?’ asked Philippe.

‘Great. When are you arriving?’

‘On Wednesday. My plane arrives in Buenos Aires at nine fifteen in the morning. I’m travelling with Air France. The flight number is AF602. Will anyone be there to meet me?’

‘Oh yes. I’ll be there. I’ll meet you and take you to your hotel. Then, when you’re ready, you can come to the museum.’

‘That’s fine. Thank you, Cristina. I’m flying back to Paris on Monday so I’ll have time to look around Buenos Aires a little - everyone tells me it’s a beautiful city - so I’m going to be a tourist as well as a museum director!’

‘Good idea. There’s so much to see. I think you’ll like it,’ answered Cristina. She liked the sound of this man’s voice. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting you.’

‘Me too. I’ll see you at the airport on Wednesday.’

‘Have a good flight.’

‘Thank you. Good bye.’

Cristina put the phone down and looked at the picture of the Claude Monet painting she had on the wall in her office. When she was fifteen years old she went to France with her parents and fell in love with that painting with its field of red poppies. She went to see every Impressionist painting she could find in Paris. She spent hours in the museums and didn’t want to leave Paris. Her parents understood then that she was serious about studying art at university. She kept the picture on the wall in her office because it made her feel good. She had the same picture on her bedroom wall. She often looked at it when she was thinking. But today she looked away from it quickly. There was something strange about the picture today. It didn’t make her feel happy. It gave her a strange feeling inside. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was because she was thinking so much about the new exhibition. An exhibition of thirty-seven paintings was a lot of work.

She had a lot to do before Philippe arrived on Wednesday. She took her notebook and left her office. She had to talk to somebody about the lights for the exhibition.

That afternoon she left the museum a little later than usual. Carlos Bocuzzi was still outside but he was getting tired of waiting. ‘Maybe she went home early. Maybe she’s ill. Maybe she’s working late,’ he thought to himself.

Just then Cristina came out of the museum and Carlos followed her. Cristina walked into Plaza Francia as usual but then stopped for a moment. She looked up at the white stone bodies of the monument in the center of the Plaza. The French people who lived in Buenos Aires gave this monument to the city in 1910. This was the monument she could see from her office window in the museum across the street.

Now she was thinking about France and the French paintings that would soon be in the museum behind her. Carlos stood in the Plaza Francia. Most of the other people there were students from the university building behind the museum. They stood around in groups. They were waiting for friends and talking. In the park behind Carlos, the dog walkers of Buenos Aires were taking their dogs for their afternoon walk. Each girl or boy had seven or eight dogs that needed a walk morning and afternoon. It was often a job for young people who wanted to earn some money. They stopped at the flats in their area to get the dogs and then took them out to the city parks.

Carlos was watching Cristina and thinking. He was beginning to feel that he knew this girl and it was more difficult than before to think of killing her. But he knew that Roberto had a good plan.

‘I mustn’t be afraid,’ Carlos thought to himself. ‘Roberto is careful. He has thought of everything. Roberto has been to the gym three times, each time with different color hair and different clothes. Now Roberto knew about day tickets to the gym and knew which machines and weights Cristina used. This evening Carlos didn’t need to stay outside the gym and wait for Cristina. This evening Carlos could go home. It was the last time he had to follow Cristina - Roberto was going to kill her the next day. ‘I must not be afraid. Only a few hours more,’ he said to himself over and over again. Carlos was afraid but he felt sure that his brother would kill Cristina. Roberto was strong. ‘That woman has to die,’ Roberto told him every night.