“Hey, Billy. Is your Mum inside?” He nodded and pointed at the little shop window, a middle-aged woman with a handkerchief tied over her hair standing there watching us. She waved as Steph turned to look. Steph waved back and headed inside. I stretched my arms long and hard towards the sky, groaned satisfyingly as my spine clicked, then followed. Steph was giving the woman a hug as I stepped inside and began to introduce me.
“Margaret, this is-”
“Jim Lawson, I know. I recognize you from this.” I blushed as she held up my book, Nightmares Unhinged. It had a photo of me inside the back page, a photo I was never too fond of. My colour increased, making both ladies giggle a little, as Margaret held it out to me and asked if I would be kind enough to autograph it. I happily did, feeling the heat in my face.
“I’ve always enjoyed a decent scare. ‘Specially if it’s about monsters and stuff.”
“Thank you,” I croaked. She turned back to Steph, returning the book under the counter.
“What brings you out this way?”
“Just back from Geelong. Police business.” Steph walked to the display fridge, took out a Coke and held one out to me. I thanked her, popped the top with the bottle opener that hung from one door and took a long swallow. Steph did the same, then sat at one of the tables and lit a cigarette.
“Any news on finding the killer?” Margaret asked. Steph shook her head.
“Do you remember Mum talking about Eddie?” she asked, then turned to me. “Margaret and Mum were friends since they were little.”
“She used to talk about him often. She loved him very much, you know. Of course, she couldn’t tell me what he looked like,” she said with a giggle, and for a moment, I didn’t follow. Then it hit me and I realized what an impossible feat that would have been. Her mother had been born blind. “She did say that he had a very kind face, her hands acting as her eyes, of course. His short hair was always combed straight, she said. She told me once that when they were lying on the river’s edge, listening to the birds, she used to love to run her fingers through it because he would do the same to her. Is everything OK? Why do you ask?”
“It’s nothing. Just missing her, I guess.” Her lie came out with such ease that I wondered how often she has had to lie about her history in the past. I can’t imagine it would have been easy not knowing anything about her father.
The lad walked in just then, also grabbing a Coke from the fridge.
“Not too many of those today, Franky.” Her voice was stern and I could see Franky give his Mum a look that told me when she spoke, he listened.
“Yes, Mum,” he said, then sat at the table with us and handed Steph her keys. “It’s all filled, tyres are good and the windows are cleaned.” She smiled at him, rubbed his head and thanked him. He grinned back, then blushed fiercely as she planted a kiss on his cheek. His mother began to laugh.
5.
Steph drove us to the police station after leaving the Robertson’s farm. As we walked in the door, Rademeyer was standing behind the counter talking with Lester, both men appearing deep in conversation. Rademeyer looked in our direction but appeared not to notice us, his words continuing at a steady pace. I followed Steph around the side of the counter and down the hall to a small room which held a single desk. She dropped down into the chair behind it, turned it toward a box that sat on the floor and began rummaging through it, after a moment picking out a couple of thick folders. I saw a photo frame sitting on the edge of the table and picked it up. A woman with long light hair was sitting at a piano, her smile conveying her pleasure at playing the instrument.
“Is this your Mum?” I asked and Steph nodded. “She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you, Jim. Here, check this out,” she said, handing me one of the folders. It was a folder marked “Medical Appointments” and when I opened it, found several thin books that had served as appointment schedules for Harry Lightman. They dated from the early 30s right through to this year. In the beginning, there were only the normal doctor’s visits for the usual ailments. A dentist’s visit in 36, the doctor for the flu in 38, stuff like that. The physician’s names were written next to the patient, as well as the date and ailment. I flicked through the books, nothing really jumping out. That was until I began to flick through the book that had 1949-1950 written on the front. There was a physician’s name that seemed to appear more and more often. Initially just once or twice a week, and not just for Lightman. The name was Julius Levinson.
“Here, I think I’ve found him,” I said, pulling my chair closer to Steph’s so she could see the entries as well. She set her own folder aside and pulled mine across onto the desk. I slowly began to turn the pages for the month of August 1949, seeing Dr. Levinson visit the prison twice during the first week, once the second week, twice again during the third week, then four the last week. September was similar and so was October. His appointments varied between prisoners and I saw that he saw Lightman once in August, once in September and twice in October. Then, in November 1949, Dr. Levinson saw Lightman four times, once each week. In December he saw him five times. In January six. By April, the last month for this book, Levinson saw Harry twice per week at regular times.
As we began to flick
