Page 26 of The Little Porto Book Club

‘Thank you, Tiago. Now let’s dine, shall we? I’d like to leave by 9 p.m. at the latest.’ Isn’t it best to be forthright about my expectations? Sleep hygiene is important, and I don’t like deviating from my usual nightly routine.

‘Do you have somewhere else to be?’ he asks as we walk inside the cosy restaurant only to find a Wait to Be Seated sign. No sign of staff, typical.

‘In bed with my book.’ In Portugal it’s customary to eat late, but it’s a custom I don’t support because I have a TBR pile that will outlast humanity if I don’t dedicate each evening to it and keep up my perfect sleep score.

Finally, a waiter appears. ‘Table for two?’

‘In your own time,’ I say. ‘We have a reservation under the name Álverez.’

I loosen up somewhat once we’re sitting across from each other. ‘I’d like to order please. Tiago, do you know what you’re having?’

The waiter stops. ‘Would you like menus … first?’

‘Not necessary, unless you’d like one, Tiago?’

‘Ah – I – no, you can order for us.’

I double blink. How could I possibly order for a man whose palate I barely know, except that almonds are verboten? If he’s giving me carte blanche then who am I to argue, especially when it’ll keep the evening on schedule. ‘Sure.’ I take the liberty in ordering us a range of petiscos, and water with lemon slices.

I turn to the waiter. ‘Tiago is allergic to almonds, if you can let the chef know. I did email ahead and check but if you could confirm this?’

The waiter nods and scurries away. A man of few words, it seems. It doesn’t fill me with much confidence that Tiago won’t be poisoned, but we shall see.

‘Thank you for checking.’

I try very hard to relax my posture. It’s not that Tiago makes me nervous, but the atmosphere feels electric as if something has changed, but what? ‘One of us has to keep you alive, Tiago.’

He sends a grin my way. ‘Right.’ There’s a moment of panic as Tiago leans his arm too close to the candle, and lets out a yelp of surprise as the cuff of his shirt blackens. This guy is a walking disaster. The type that would mess up any real-life case by treading on clues, or by being a klutz and totally unaware of his surroundings, but I’m up for the challenge.

‘Are you OK?’ I ask, as he blushes furiously. I always thought that term was just fodder for books but I can confirm it’s real, his olive complexion is a deep scarlet that somehow makes him look more adorable. Some men have all the luck.

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’

‘These candles are a hazard. Shall I get some ice for the burn?’

‘No need. But thanks, Viviane.’ He folds the charred cuff of his shirt back and hides his hands under the table.

Our first course, of chouriço assado, a traditional pork sausage, arrives, and Tiago suggests we order a bottle of wine to accompany our petiscos. ‘Yes, please.’ I shouldn’t drink alcohol when I’m anxious like this, but I will make an allowance and hope it helps settle the butterflies. Really, I’m to be commended for all this social interaction of late, of course there are bound to be times when the nerves win.

Once our wine is poured and the rest of our dishes presented, I attempt to direct the conversation to the Lucinda mystery and whether Tiago will accept his role as faithful sidekick.

After a deep breath, I ready myself to present my case. ‘Did you catch the rest of Lucinda’s phone call the other day? She answered a call from a mysterious person and asked about toxins.’

‘Oh, that. No, I didn’t hear what she said.’ Tiago takes a lazy swill of wine like I didn’t just ask the most urgent question.

‘Oh, that?’

He pauses mid mouthful, cheeks comically wide with wine. He swallows hard. ‘What?’

I shake my head. Surely, he cannot be this unaware? Danger is lurking at every corner! ‘Tiago, did that not ring alarm bells for you?’

He is such an innocent, it’s written all over his face, from his eager smile to his earnest gaze. Meanwhile there are possible murder plans ahoy, and he is none the wiser. ‘Should it have?’

Do I steal his innocence? It’s a tough call but I do need a confidant, even if he might be more of a foil – the type to miss glaring clues and get us into jams. Tiago does fit the brief for the fumbling, feckless goofball, and really, who else is there? I’m confident he won’t try to assert his dominance in the investigation like some sort of cliché alpha male and that’s all I can ask for. ‘Tiago, a woman in our book club asked about toxins and that didn’t strike fear into your heart? A woman who is now unaccounted for?’

His lips part in surprise. ‘No, it didn’t but when you say it like that maybe it should have.’

I stifle a sigh. Imagine being this unobservant. Thinking that the world is all rainbows and butterflies. ‘Her last words to me were that she’d only miss book club if she were dead. Dead, Tiago. And then there’s her kill or kiss list.’ This time I blush remembering that fateful day when poor Tiago thought I was propositioning him. Hapless fool. ‘That didn’t concern you?’