A thin man resembling a ferret and dressed in a crumpled beige linen suit sits opposite Nat and Elsa. He clicks open his briefcase and takes out a brown file. What is it with all the boring brown? He sucks in his cheeks and surveys a tense Nat and Elsa. ‘I’m still trying to gather information on Mr Karlos Beukes. There are records of a Greytown farmer by that name but I want to find out a bit more about him.’
He flicks open the file with thin fingers and long, yellowed nails. ‘These are copies of the records of the other patients admitted to Shaloma at the same time as your sister. I’ve found an interesting one.’
He pushes across a paper with yellow highlighter slashed midway across the page like a rising sun. Nat and Elsa lean in together and stare wide-eyed at the paper.
‘Whose record is this?’
‘George Mannering. He was admitted two days before your sister. He’s a diagnosed psychotic. He’s on that drug you asked me to look for.’
Elsa snatches the file out of Ferret-man’s hands and flicks stiffly through it, her eyes scanning fiercely down each page. ‘What the fuck was he doing there?’ she demands, her face screwed up in anger. ‘He should have been in a psychiatric ward not a rehab?’
‘Do you think he gave Lissa something? If he’s psychotic he could do anything.’ Nat looks up at Ferret-man.
‘Could be,’ he says, pulling down the corners his mouth.
Elsa shrugs and slams down the file. ‘I don’t know. Why would he? We’ve never even heard Liss mention him.’
‘I don’t know either, but I really think we need to look into him more; maybe it’s him and not Karlos,’ says Nat.
Elsa pulls a face. ‘No, I want Mr Fletcher to focus on Karlos.’
Nat lets out a sigh and raises her eyes briefly to the ceiling, while Ferret-man’s eyes scan from Elsa to Nat and back to Elsa. ‘I don’t think we must ignore the listing of the same drug, especially since Mannering’s psychotic, but are you sure your sister wasn’t prescribed it?’ He stops and leans back in his chair, putting his fingers together in a steeple position. ‘Maybe she had this hidden condition and you didn’t know about it?’
Elsa leans across the desk and slaps the top of the file so hard that the desk vibrates. ‘I think we’d know if there was a history of psychosis with her,’ she says through clenched teeth. ‘She was an alcoholic, nothing else. Her death is suspicious. Let me spell out the facts: her GP says she has never been psychotic so the Trithapon on her record at Shaloma is suspicious; King Edward hospital’s record shows no post-mortem so we don’t know what caused the sudden heart failure. And this happens right before she was about to be transferred to a rehabilitation hospital because she was making such good progress? Yet, she suddenly died. If there wasn’t a strong case for looking into her death, and the police weren’t so fucking useless I wouldn’t be employing you.’ Elsa’s voice has risen manically with each phrase and now she’s shrieking and spitting at Ferret-man.
He leans back into his chair and pulls his head down into his neck like a tortoise. He wafts a wiry hand up and down in front of Elsa as if calming a child. For a second I think she’s going to slap it, but she gives an angry shake of her head and sits back in her chair and begins chewing hard on a strand of blonde hair.
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I had to ask. Personally I don’t see anything of alarm in Beukes at the moment, but I’ll keep looking.’
Elsa leans back in her chair, her chest still heaving with emotion. Nat looks pale, probably as shocked as I am at Elsa’s uncharacteristic loss of control. Poor Elsa; this is really getting to her and it’s all my fault. Nat places her hand over Elsa’s clenched fist and gives it a squeeze. Elsa reddens slightly and gives a slight smile. She stiffens her shoulders and moves back into the chair.
‘You might not see anything of alarm but my gut feeling is him. I want you to concentrate on Karlos.’
Ferret-man does little to hide the sneer which slides across his face.
‘Maybe we should also look at the others Els, especially George,’ Nat says.
Elsa frowns while Ferret-man clears his throat and starts shuffling the papers together. ‘I think your sister’s right. If you want, I can look more into Mannering, just to make sure. Two of the other patients are living together in a squat down Point Road – a Harriet Beauchamp and a Wolfgang Schmidt. She’s a heroin addict and he’s an alcoholic. If your sister had been robbed they’d be high on our list. The other one’s a Nicholas Davis, an ex-lawyer. Do you want me to look at all of them?’
‘I think we should,’ says Nat.
Elsa grits her teeth and pushes back her chair. ‘You need to let me lead, Nat. Focus on Karlos and find out more about George Mannering. I just want those two for now. If we find evidence to write them off, we’ll look at the others.’
‘Okay. It should take me a few weeks but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’ Ferret-man places the file back in the briefcase and clicks it closed.
Nat sits tense and tight-faced while Elsa stands up. ‘Thank you,’ she mutters.
‘Wait until I have more information before you pass this on to the police, if you don’t mind.’
Elsa nods. ‘Will do. Let’s go.’
Nat scrapes back her chair without looking at Elsa. She holds out her hand to Fletcher. ‘Thank you. We’ll wait to hear from you.’
‘Yes, of course,’ says Fletcher, scrabbling to his feet and offering his yellow-nailed and limp-wristed hand to her. He turns to Elsa who barely returns the offered shake before marching out of the office with Nat, stiff-backed and silent behind her.
‘I’ll phone you as soon as I find something,’ calls Fletcher as the door closes behind them.
I watch as they march, straight-backed, down the passage. I hate to see them angry with each other, but thankfully Nat’s a bit more open-minded than Elsa about Karlos, and the detective is sure to trace something about the roots of George’s psychosis. There must be some record of his psychotic woman hating, especially the ‘bitch’ he thought he was seeing in the meeting. Then hopefully Elsa’s sharp mind will put two and two together and realise it’s him, not Karlos.
Nat clicks the car door closed and fastens her seatbelt in silence. Elsa gives her a sideways glance and grips the steering wheel before stabbing the keys into the ignition. The engine purrs into life and they drive out into the busy dual carriageway with the air tense and hot between them.
Nat swallows and grips her hands together. ‘I feel so confused,’ she says. ‘I’m even beginning to doubt Lissa. Why would a drug be listed on her records if …?’
‘Liss was not psychotic. We’ve already established that. What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘We can’t be certain, can we?’
Elsa turns open-mouthed to Nat and I mirror her shock. How can Nat even think that, let alone say it? Did she really think so little of me that she’d think I’d hide something like that from them?
‘I can’t believe you just said that.’
Nat reddens and turns to stare out of the window. The air between them bristles while Elsa puts her foot down and squeals in and out of the thundering traffic. They drive in silence until she reaches Nat’s house and stops outside with the engine still running.
‘I’m sorry. I feel like I’m in some kind of nightmare … I just don’t know what’s happening any more.’ Nat’s eyes fills with tears. ‘I just don’t think we can assume Liss told us everything about her life, especially when she was drinking.’
Elsa nods curtly but says nothing. Nat sits trembling next to her for a few seconds more before getting out and clicking the car door closed without speaking.
Elsa watches her go into the house with her knuckles clenched around the steering wheel. My spirit is still stinging with shock. I can’t believe that Nat of all people would doubt my sanity. How can she betray me like that?