Page 53 of Watching You
Baarda went to him instead. ‘Brodie Baarda. It’s nice to meet you, Charlie. What’s landed you in here?’
‘Too much time up ladders carrying hoses, and eighty-year-old hips. It’s a bad combination. I don’t suppose you could just pull the wires out from that speaker, could you? I could tolerate this place much better if I didn’t have to listen to this dirge all day.’
‘I suspect that would be criminal damage, but I can ask them to change the music if that would help?’
Charlie had clearly once been a hulk of a man. He still had an impressive head of white hair, a voice that came from the depths of his chest and a determined set to his mouth that Baarda knew would put him at odds with being dependent on others. Ageing was slow torture, and that was if you were one of the lucky ones who made it that far.
‘Ach, don’t bother,’ Charlie said. ‘They’ll change it for half an hour then put the same drivel on again. I think it’s supposed to encourage us to want to leave.’ He gave Baarda a wink. ‘You’ll be here about the murder, I suppose.’
Baarda took the seat next to Charlie and relaxed into surprisingly comfortable leather.
‘We’ve done our best to keep the details out of the public eye. What have you heard?’
‘I listen. People’s tongues are the best newspaper you’ll find. Some of the nurses were talking about it during drug rounds yesterday – they assume we’re all deaf or past caring. One of them said everyone thought it was natural causes when the lad first collapsed in the lift, but then the police were all over it and now there are special security measures in place. Is that right?’
‘The security measures have obviously not been put in place here,’ Baarda noted. ‘I was able to walk straight in.’
‘Well, really, what’s left to kill in here?’ Charlie grinned. ‘A few old folk who’re already infirm. He can come in here and have at it, if he likes. He’ll have to take me beating him with my crutches first though!’
Baarda grinned back.
‘Well, we don’t know who’s responsible yet, so I can’t tell you if it’s a him or a her, but it was definitely an unlawful killing, and it definitely took place in the hospital. I’ll ask that security measures be applied here properly. No one should be put at risk.’
‘I’d put money on it being a man. I told the nurses there’s been a dodgy chap coming through here a few times. No one takes any notice of me though. They see wobbly hips and act like it’s my brain that’s rotten.’
‘What have you seen, Charlie? And for the record, I can already tell there’s nothing wrong with your faculties.’
Charlie leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘They all think it’s my imagination, but I could swear there’s a man who comes through here once a week, sometimes more, only helooks different every time. Sometimes he’s in normal clothes but always with a hat on, and sometimes he’s in a hospital uniform.’
‘Do you think maybe he just works here and sometimes gets changed in a staff room?’
‘That’s the thing,’ Charlie said. ‘He wears different sets of scrubs. Sometimes like a male nurse. Sometimes like a porter. I’ve seen him in a cleaner’s uniform too. And I’ve seen him leave through this route on days when I’ve not seen him enter this way. Even when he’s wearing scrubs, he’s still got a hat or a cap on, or a hood up.’
Charlie sat back in his chair and Baarda watched him for a few seconds.
‘You know I’ve got to ask: how can you be sure it’s the same man?’
‘It’s a fair question. I’ve seen him shave his hair, dye it, grow a moustache for a while then shave it off again. All his clothes are sort of generic, nothing stand-out. But it’s him. I’ve started looking out for him. I thought maybe he was getting treatment for a sort of multiple personality disorder, then I figured I was the one losing the plot. Then this happened.’
Baarda got his mobile out of his pocket.
‘Charlie, do you mind if I record the next few questions I ask you, just so I’ve got an accurate note?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘You want to know what I remember?’ Baarda nodded. ‘Well, he’s skinny for one thing, not shorter than five nine and not taller than six foot. Height is harder for me at the moment as I’m always sitting down. White-skinned though, and I reckon around about thirty years old, maybe a bit older, but he changes his look so it’s hard to be specific.’
‘What was his hair like the last time you saw him?’
‘He’s growing it again, I reckon,’ Charlie said. ‘But then I never see the top of his scalp.’
‘Anything in particular about the way he walks? Have you ever heard him speak? Does he have tattoos? Does he ever carry anything like a bag or a bicycle helmet?’
Charlie thought about it. ‘No tattoos. He brought a backpack with him once or twice. Those are fire doors you came through so I’ve seen him through these windows and the glass in the doors, but it’s soundproof from the corridor into here. As for how he walks, I’d say it’s like he’s trying to make himself nothing. Not small, exactly, just head down, hands in pockets. Sending out signals like, nothing to see here. Know what I mean?’
‘I do indeed,’ Baarda said. ‘That’s a very good description. I don’t suppose you’d be able to recall the last time you saw him?’
‘I can tell you exactly. It was the twelfth of June. I’d just had a review to decide whether or not I’m fit to be sent home yet. Bastards sentenced me to another month even though I’ve been on good behaviour.’
‘I’m sorry about that, Charlie, but also not sorry, if you’ll forgive me for saying. If they’d sent you home, I wouldn’t have ended up speaking to you today.’
