Dona Dolores was sleeping on the living room sofa. She had snuggled up in her husband’s lap, who was snoring loudly. Seu Durval had his head thrown to the side and was drooling from the corner of his mouth. On the coffee table, scattered, were several playing cards from the game of buraco that had gone on until the early hours. On the floor, two wine glasses. One of them was half full. Dona Dolores had heartburn when she drank alcohol, so she avoided it.
The morning light was already illuminating the room through the curtain when Joana, the maid, entered the room with wide eyes, trembling. She always tried to avoid making noise when the couple collapsed on the sofa. She even avoided passing through the living room, going around the back through the yard. But this time, the woman weighing almost one hundred and thirty kilos rushed through the door and shouted:
– Seu Durval! There’s a dead man in the kitchen!
Durval jumped off the sofa still asleep, eyes wide open, in shock.
– What, woman?
Dolores woke up and let out a scream along with a cough, grabbing her husband’s arm.
Joana didn’t wait for an answer, she ran out the front door towards the yard.
Durval looked seriously at his wife:
– Did she say there’s a dead man in the kitchen or am I still dreaming?
– Call the police, Durval! Call the police!
– Calm down! There can’t be any dead man in the kitchen. Joana has gone completely mad.
– But she just said she saw one.
– Remember when she swore she saw a white pig trying to get through the front gate? It was a little girl on a tricycle! Heitor’s daughter!
– The girl was chubby…
Durval looked towards the hallway that led to the kitchen.
– And she was wearing a yellow dress, anyone could confuse…
– With a pig?
Durval stared once more at the hallway.
– Well, let’s solve this mystery.
Dolores was scared. She didn’t know whether to flee out the front door after Joana or to stand firm with her husband. They had been married for almost fifty years; she wouldn’t abandon him now. She held onto Durval’s arm, and they both went down the hallway.
The kitchen door was an arched opening. The sunlight was pouring in, marking the hallway wall with its yellow light. If there was a dead man in the kitchen, it was well lit.
Durval’s heart had already suffered two heart attacks, but the man had courage; he advanced step by step, staring at the entrance to the kitchen, which grew larger and revealed the enormous, aged cedar table. The six-burner stove leaned against the wall. The refrigerator, the latest model, made of steel, with a water dispenser that didn’t require opening the door. The stationary bike that Durval used to exercise while chatting with Dolores whenever she made cakes and treats. And… the body. Lying right in the middle of the kitchen floor. It was face down, so the face couldn’t be seen, but it appeared to be a man. He was wearing jeans and a light blue shirt. Around his head was a pool of dark red blood.
Next to the body, a white cat was licking the blood.
Episode II continues in the next edition.