Rose returned to the hospital less than two hours after she had left it. She walked into Craig’s ward and was relieved to find Chris relaxing by his father’s bed, filling in a crossword puzzle.
“Final clue, Dad. Six letters. ‘Illegal location for divorce’.”
Craig looked up at her, smiled and asked, “Did you save your patient?”
Rose nodded. “Yes, and it was an important one. Baz, one of the tracker dogs from Lewa who found Nina Scott Watson’s body this morning.”
She remained standing as Chris was poised over the crossword, waiting for an answer.
“Well, it’s not Vatican as that’s seven letters,” considered Craig. “So for six it must be Manila.” He lay back on his pillows and screwed up his eyes.
Chris stood and said to Rose, “He needs his painkillers, which I presume will be administered just before or after lunch.”
“Lunch,” repeated Craig, opening his eyes.
“Not yet, but it’ll be here shortly. We better leave so we don’t disturb you,” responded Chris. His ears turned red as he returned the chair to the corner of the room.
Craig could no longer feed himself and they did not want to get in the way. Rose also thought Chris was embarrassed about his father’s incapacity.
Rose bent over Craig and kissed his cheek. “We’ll let you have lunch, but I’ll be back later.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “If you feel you need to help the commissioner, then don’t hesitate on my account. I’ve realised you cannot put your life on hold for me and you will need plenty to do, to keep you going when I’m no longer around.” He squeezed her hand again and smiled weakly.
She felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes and she bent down and kissed him again.
As she walked along the stark corridor with Chris, they passed the lunch trolley and the smell of beef stew wafted in their direction.
Rose’s stomach growled as she commented, “Your dad should sleep well if he eats stew for lunch. Did you see Dr Farrukh?”
“Yes, but she said it’s still too early to determine how well the fracture is healing or when he can return home, if indeed he can.” He looked across at Rose. “But I understand a new wing has opened here for elderly patients who need round-the-clock care.”
“That’s the Louise Decker Centre. It opened quite recently and is a fantastic addition to the hospital. I know a number of elderly and bed-bound patients who are there, so I really should visit them. Why do you mention it?”
“Dr Farrukh suggested we consider it for Dad once he’s on the road to recovery from his fall. She said it’s brighter, airier and more pleasant than his ward, and at the moment there is space for him.”
They stopped and Rose looked down at the floor, rubbing her hands on her thighs.
“What’s wrong? Do you want him home? I thought it would be easier for you if he was close by and being cared for in a facility like that.”
“It’s not that. It’s a great idea. But not one I think we can afford.”
Chris ran his tongue over his bottom lip and said, “Let’s see then. I might be able to help out for a bit.”
They walked down the concrete steps at the front of the main hospital building. At the bottom, Chris turned to her and said, “I really need a shower and a rest myself. Will you be all right if I go?”
“I’ll keep your mother company,” announced Commissioner Akida as he strode towards them. “And I would appreciate her input on a small matter.”
Chris pursed his lips and said, “Thank you, Commissioner, but don’t drag her into anything dangerous.”
The commissioner laughed. “Don’t you worry. Anyway, I’m quite sure your mother can look after herself.”
Rose looked at Chris and remembered an occasion only two months before when her son had rescued her from certain death. She put a hand on his arm and said, “I promise not to go chasing dangerous criminals on my own.”
Chris’s shoulders loosened a little, but he still watched her with narrowed eyes as he pecked her on the cheek and said, “Make sure you don’t.” He walked towards the gravelled visitors’ car park.
Rose sighed deeply and turned to Commissioner Akida. “How can I be of assistance?”
“I thought we might visit the mortuary for the results of the autopsy.”
They walked between a variety of older single- and double-storey buildings towards the rear of the hospital. As they approached the river, the Louise Decker Centre came into view.
There were pots of flowers and hanging baskets by the entrance, and it certainly looked a pleasant place to stay, but could they afford it? Had Chris genuinely offered to help them financially or did he just feel it was the right thing to say at the time?
“You’re unusually quiet, Mama Rose. Is it Bwana Craig? Is he all right?”
They walked around the end of a building, where patio doors led out of a ward onto the grass lawn, and continued towards the mortuary.
“Not really. And Dr Farrukh is not sure he will be well enough to return home. His hip might not heal properly and even if it does, the post-polio syndrome, as they are now calling it, is eating away at his body. He may soon need round-the-clock care.”
“I am sorry. Bwana is a proud man, but like all bull elephants, the time finally comes for us to seek out the elephant’s graveyard and die in peace.”
They entered the single-storey, brick mortuary building. A white-coated pathologist was washing his hands in a stainless-steel sink.
When he saw them, he exclaimed, “Commissioner, I’m glad you’re here. I was about to leave for lunch, but first, let me show you my findings.”
The commissioner turned to Rose and said, “Brace yourself, the body is a bit of a mess.”
“I’m sorry,” apologised the pathologist, “I have tried to clean her up, but there are scratches and bite marks from wild animals. Her right foot is missing and her left hand is not attached to the body.”
They walked into a small whitewashed room, in the centre of which was a stainless steel trolley draped with a white sheet.
The pathologist pulled on a pair of white latex gloves and lifted the sheet from the body. He said, “As you can see, we have a European woman in her early twenties. She was relatively fit and healthy, with no signs that she drank excessively, or smoked. At first I couldn’t find any indication as to the cause of death, but have a look here.”
The pathologist lifted her head to expose her neck. “If you look carefully, you can see some small marks. They’ll actually become clearer and easier to see as the skin dries out and becomes more transparent.”
He rested her head back on the trolley and continued, “I’m afraid her eyes are missing, but if you look at the skin of her eyelids, and under her eyelashes, you can see evidence of pinpoint haemorrhaging.”
He stood and declared, “Evidence which points to strangulation, and by the marks on the neck, I would suggest with a thin cord.”
The commissioner scratched his own neck and said, “So Nina Scott Watson was murdered.”
The pathologist covered Nina’s body, stripped off his latex gloves and washed his hands. They all returned to the small office at the entrance to the building. The pathologist approached a desk on which rested a large white plastic bag.
“These are the woman’s personal affects.” He reached inside and removed a smaller plastic bag, the contents of which he tipped out onto the desk.
Rose picked up a small gold locket. She pushed the clasp at the side to reveal the faces of a middle-aged man and woman. Nina’s parents, she presumed. There was also a small gold watch, a silver bracelet, and a couple of beaded bracelets which she presumed Nina had bought whilst in Kenya. Her gold wedding ring and diamond engagement ring lay side by side.
The commissioner looked inside the larger plastic bag and reached in with his hand, moving the objects around.
The pathologist said, “Most of her clothing was ripped or missing, a result of animal scavengers, and there is only a single trainer.”
“There’s not much to go on,” agreed the commissioner. “Were there any traces of blood on the clothes?”
“No, the only fluid I could find evidence of was sweat.”
The commissioner’s phone rang, and he stepped outside the building to take the call.
Rose thanked the pathologist and followed the commissioner.