Chapter 11
After waiting thirty minutes for service and overhearing a dozen horror stories by other victims of crimes, Gustavo Vila Nova sat on a plastic chair in a cubicle across from an attendant at the police station. Bullet-proof glass separated them. The attendant, a plump woman with her hair in a bun, frowned at Gustavo and folded her arms across her chest.
"Is that all?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" Gustavo replied.
"A so-called uniformed man, forty or so and muscular, with a red beard and scarred left eyebrow—described like a pirate—chases you around a field and parking lot?"
"You need to have an officer check for the fallen man I told you about in the navy coveralls by the footpath. His corpse could be waiting for you right now."
"Let me summarize this. No theft, as you confe
