book being written had struck the right note. Bookcases in the sitting room were filled to bursting. I squinted at the titles.
'I'm interested in the missing medical records for Rafael Padrone. Do you remember anything about that?'
She paused, and for a minute I thought she was going to close up, but she was only collecting her thoughts. Some of them must have been pleasant because she smiled and something of the prettiness she must have had in her youth came back into her face. 'I remember quite a lot. I particularly remember the police officer who interviewed me. Do you know that he sat in my office and smoked without asking my permission and that he picked his teeth.'
'Cassidy,' I said. 'You can say whatever you want about him because he's dead. I'm told he wasn't mannerly.'
'That's putting it mildly, but I have nothing more to say about him. Well, he asked for the Padrone file and I looked for it and couldn't find it and he became very rude. He virtually accused me of stealing it. 'Why would I do that?' I said, but he wasn't the sort of person to reason with.'
'Do you know who took the records?'
'I have a very good idea. Another policeman came who was more polite, but I still didn't tell him my suspicion.'
'Why not?'
The rejuvenating smile again. 'I wasn't a middle-aged cripple back then, Mr Hardy. I was a lively woman. I was a very good dancer.'
'I believe you,' I said. Also intelligent.' I pointed to the bookcases. 'I can see George Eliot, Trollope, Lawrence, Waugh, Martin Boyd…'
'Have you read them?'
'Bits of, not as much as you. I was more Conrad, Stevenson, Maugham, Hemingway, Idriess.'
She nodded. 'Some strange things went on in that surgery. I was concerned, but it was a very good job, well paid, convenient to where I lived, and I liked Dr Bellamy very much. I wasn't medically trained, I couldn't judge the… ethics.'
'Yes?'
'I'm guessing, from glimpses of some of the people I saw arriving after hours, but I know Dr Heysen had developed techniques for removing tattoos and scars. I suspect he also… altered people's appearance.'
That wasn't what I was expecting but was still interesting, maybe even more so. I couldn't understand why this outwardly respectable woman wouldn't have said something about it to the police, once the shit had hit the fan.
She put on the spectacles she wore on a chain around her neck, stared directly at me, and I had to struggle to look her in the eye. 'I was in love,' she said.
'With Heysen?'
'That conceited cold fish? No.'
'Bellamy?'
She laughed. 'Very attractive, but a lost cause. No, with Dr Karl Lubeck.'
'I haven't heard of him.'
'Well, he was sort of an assistant to Dr Heysen and I suppose you'd say he was employed on a casual basis. Things were much looser then, before the GST and all that.'
'You think he took the records?'
'He might have. There were other files missing. I didn't tell the police about them either. I… I assume they were for these… after-hours people Dr Heysen and Karl-Dr Lubeck-dealt with and that Mr Padrone's file was taken too, perhaps by mistake.'
She sat quietly while I absorbed this. We were both lost in thought, though of very different kinds. She'd given me a whole new perspective on Heysen, one that hadn't come out from Catherine Heysen or in the police investigation, but very possibly what Rex Wain had been afraid to talk about.
She broke the silence. 'I didn't think it mattered. Padrone killed Dr Bellamy and confessed to doing it on Dr Heysen's behalf. I believed that.'
'Do you still believe it, Ms Brown?'
'Yes, why not? But at the time I was more concerned about my broken heart. I didn't say anything about Karl in order to protect him. Love is blind.'
'It is,' I said. 'Part of the fun. So you went on seeing him?'
'For a very short while. Then he told me he had to go overseas to deal with something. He sent postcards. Then nothing. I was hurt and I had no job. Not much money and I had to get on with my life. And I did. I put Karl and his sweet talk behind me. I had other lovers. Then my accident happened a few years later. After that it was hospitals and operations and recovery, ups and downs and…'
'I understand.'
'I was renting this flat. I was able to buy it with the insurance money. The prices weren't so outrageous then. I had the little idea that Karl might come back to look for me. This was where we'd met and made love. But he never did.'
'I'm going to have to ask you about him. Will that upset you?'
She let loose a throaty laugh. 'Not in the least. I don't want you to think I'm a dried-up, frustrated old woman, Mr Hardy.'
Her eyes were bright and her smile had turned mocking-at me.
'I don't,' I said.
'You might. You couldn't be blamed.' She consulted a gold watch on her wrist. 'Yes. This's a good time. Let me show you something.'
She wheeled around and moved towards a door standing ajar. Her bedroom. The room had a big window with a view across the street to a block of flats of similar size and vintage.
'Sit on the bed,' she said. 'A great big fellow like you would be too obvious.'
Directly opposite and not more than fifty metres away was another large window. I had a clear view into the room and saw a tall, blonde woman taking off her dress and unhooking her bra to reveal impressive breasts. A man standing near her was watching with his hands busy on himself.
'Not a good one,' Roma Brown said. 'A disappointment. Probably just a self-abuser. It's better when they do something standing up or they have oral sex. That's very enjoyable. Are you shocked?'
If I was, I wasn't going to show it. 'I'm surprised she doesn't know about you.'
The wheelchair spun around again and she laughed as she left the room. 'Oh, she knows. We're quite good friends. She doesn't mind in the least. In fact she says it gives her pleasure. As you can imagine, not every engagement is enjoyable. It's what I meant by my little hobby.'
We went back to the sitting room. 'I just wanted you to know that although Karl broke my heart and a motor car broke my body, I haven't resigned from the human race. A very nice man visits me regularly and we enjoy ourselves- well, I certainly do.'
'I'm glad to hear it. Tell me about Dr Lubeck-Karl. German, I suppose.'
'Originally, I'm sure. But he had no accent. He was as Australian as you and I with our standard names. I must admit I knew very little about him. The affair only lasted a few weeks.'
'You don't have a photograph?'
'I did, but I tore it up in pique. I'm sorry. He was tall, like you, and dark like you. But more heavily built and with much less hair. Very little, in fact. I've never found baldness unattractive, which men don't understand.'
'They say bald men have more testosterone.'
She smiled. 'Well, he certainly had his share. What else? I got the impression he was a contemporary of Dr Heysen and Dr Bellamy and had qualified at Sydney University. I mean contemporary as a graduate-Karl was a few years older.'
'Family?'
'Never mentioned. D'you mean did he have a wife? After what happened, I wouldn't be surprised. Shouldn't you be making notes?'
'Later. Habits? Sports? Interests?'
