Cops or robbers ?

With plans to return to the UK being sabotaged on an almost hourly basis by endless visa headaches, yesterday was intense. Long chats with lawyers, emails to the embassy ... and then the intercom buzzes.

I feel more and more like an unwitting actor in a thriller. Answer intercom phone and don't understand the voices at other end. Go down to first floor and buzz my one and only neighbour but of course, in true thriller fashion, she's not in. Go tentatively down long corridor to our building's front door and try to make out figures on other side of the frosted glass. Can't.

"Hobert, Hobert" they shout out to me. No time to be amused by the Portuguese pronunciation of the letter R. Is this another trap I'm about to walk into ? Walk or run back up two flights of stairs to apartment, down our insanely long corridor (shades of The Shining) and into bedroom with balcony from which I can try to vet my unexpected visitors. But of course the broken sliding door won't open.** Way too much drama.

Finally onto the balcony I see a large four by four police vehicle and four guys standing next to it. They look like characters out of The Sweeney. Thankfully one of them speaks passable English and shows me what looks like a police badge when I ask for ID. But still I keep wondering if they are fake and their car is fake. Go down, have trouble opening door because lock is such poor quality and keeps sticking, but finally settle down to have longish chat with these investigators about the recent robbery.

They are suspicious of the nanny, although I say I am not so much anymore, and they return later to interview her. Being Brazilian they can't help falling for Sam's comically cute charms in what is supposed to be a very serious scene. They think they might have a lead in our case and will be in touch. I ask the English speaker what I am supposed to do in future such emergencies, and although he gives me the 901 police number (one of many life essentials I had still not got round to acquiring here) he shakes his head and says "It's different here in Brazil, calling the police is not so easy ..."

** Our landlord has refused to do just about everything to make this apartment half-decent. Our request for a door that actually opens onto the balcony, rather than one which purports to be a door but is in fact a steel cage ensuring no respite from the prison theme, was met with a deafening and determined silence.

PS: P just told me about a robbery yesterday in SP in which a young entrepreneur, owner of a restaurant chain, had his home broken into, put up no resistance and allowed them to take what they wanted, but was still murdered. Shot twice in the head. Update: Seems, in fact, it was a gangland hit, taking place at one of his restaurants at the end of the evening, while he was seated with other staff. Guessing that he refused to pay the mafia tax ?