The view of Corcovado mountain Statue of Christ from Dave's room

Dave opened the door. "Come on in", he said dressed casual-like in a white bathrobe. "I've just had a shower. Feels great. It sure is hot in these parts, huh?" It didn't take him long to get his point across. He wanted to go to bed with me. "I don't really want to", I said, visions of Constable John dancing in my head. He didn't press and suggested I have a shower and siesta anyway, which I did.

When I woke up he was sitting at a table set for two. He said, "You must be hungry. Why don't you have some." My eyes went to the plates of roast beef and my stomach growled "OK" even before I did. "You haven't really tasted beef 'till you've had this Argentinian stuff," Dave enticed. I dug in ravenously.

It would have been so eas for Dave to have sprinkled some angel dust or other hallucinogenic street drug into the gravy, I was to think months later.

Dave made sure my chair faced the window. It was evening but he had the drapes open so I could see Corcovado mountain and the statue of the Christ with his outstretched arms. He spoke very softly and in a monotone. I could hear a clicking sound. A tape recorder going on and off? "Barbra Streisand's psychic, you know," Dave said. And later, "Christ died to forgive our sins."