Therapy

  ‘If I remember rightly, I was explaining how Charlotte and I left the palace.’

  ‘That's right. You said you were being chased.’

  Viktor used his foot to manoeuvre a small Persian rug from under the table. At least he wouldn't have to stand bare-footed on the floor anymore.

  ‘I took Charlotte by the hand, ran to the car, and drove off. Charlotte wanted to go to Hamburg but she wouldn't say why. I gave up and let her dictate the route.’

  ‘What happened when you got there?’

  ‘We checked in to the Hyatt on Mönckebergstrasse. Charlotte didn't care where we stayed, so I went for the Park Hyatt because I wanted a bit of luxury and it reminded me of my days as a glamorous author. I used to meet my agent in the lobby, and I always thought the hotel had an exalted feel to it. I was hoping it would help me focus on happier times.’

  Viktor nodded. At one time in his life he had regularly stayed in the five-star Hyatt, preferably on the executive floor.

  ‘Unfortunately it had the opposite effect. I felt irritable and depressed. I couldn't think clearly and Charlotte was becoming a handful. The poor thing was suffering, and she put the blame on me. I gave her some paracetamol and a dose of penicillin, and thankfully she fell asleep. I was desperate to get on with the book.’

  ‘The book about Charlotte?’

  ‘Yes. I wanted to put an end to the nightmare and the only solution was to finish the book – at least, that was my rationale. After a lot of thought, I realized how to handle the story.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Charlotte's clues were the key to the story. I had to describe the cause of her illness based on what I'd seen. The first clue was the cabin in the forest; that was the beginning, according to her. I decided to write a chapter where she goes to the cabin and falls ill.’

  Josy fell ill in Schwanenwerder, not Sacrow, thought Viktor. It started on Boxing Day. We had to call the doctor.

  ‘Then I realized that Charlotte had been referring to something else. I remembered how she had told me to “look for what's missing”.’

  Her dressing table? A television? A poster of Eminem?

  ‘At last I understood what she meant: she was asking me to look for changes. Something dreadful had happened in that cabin, something so terrible that she had never set foot in there again. I realized that it had to be associated with the person behind the door.’

  There was a long pause while Viktor waited for her to continue.

  ‘Well?’ he said at last.

  ‘Well what?’

  Why does she have to be so obtuse? To Viktor's credit, he bit his tongue. He was tired of coaxing the information out of her, but he didn't want to upset her in case she broke off the story at the critical point.

  ‘How did you finish the story?’

  ‘Haven't you guessed? I should have thought it was obvious.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Come on, Dr Larenz, you're the analyst. I think you can work it out.’

  ‘It's your story, not mine.’

  ‘You're beginning to sound like Charlotte,’ she said brightly.

  Viktor wasn't in the mood for playing games. He was waiting for an answer.

  Four years he had waited for an answer. Four years of fearing the answer, fearing and looking. A thousand scenarios had been enacted in his mind. And while his daughter had died a thousand imaginary deaths, he had died a thousand times at her side. He was dead, and nothing could hurt him – or so he thought. But when Anna finally spoke, he realized that he was vulnerable after all. ‘She was poisoned,’ she explained.

  No amount of warning could have prepared him for that. Viktor took fast, shallow breaths. He was suddenly grateful for the numbing cold in the sitting room for without it the shock would surely be worse. He had an urge to throw up, but he didn't have the strength to run upstairs.

  ‘Dr Larenz?’

  He knew she was expecting a response, and he tried to think what he would say if he were just her therapist and not the grief-stricken father of her delusions. Officially, Charlotte was a hallucination, the result of faulty wiring in Anna's brain.

  To buy himself some time, he used the psychiatrist's stock comeback: ‘Tell me more.’

  It was another fatal mistake. Anna's first revelation was nothing compared to what came next.

  27

  ‘Poisoned?’ boomed Kai in a voice that, even by his standards, was unnaturally loud. He had just left Schwanenwerder and was on his way back to the office in central Berlin. ‘Why does the Glass woman think the kid was poisoned?’

  ‘No idea. I guess she came up with a story that fitted the facts.’

  ‘Facts? What facts? She's a mental patient!’

  Viktor heard frantic tooting, from which he deduced that Kai, who couldn't be bothered with a hands-free kit, was negotiating the motorway one-handed again. ‘Anna thinks something happened in Sacrow. According to her, Josy—’

  ‘You mean, Charlotte,’ Kai corrected him.

  ‘That's what I said, didn't I? But let's imagine she was talking about Josy. According to Anna, something dreadful happened in the cabin, something that shook the foundations of her world. That was the trigger.’

  ‘The trigger for what? For someone to poison her?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘And who the hell is supposed to have poisoned her?’

  ‘Josy.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  The roar of traffic faded abruptly. Kai must have pulled into the hard shoulder and stopped.

  ‘Josy poisoned herself. That was the crux of Anna's story. Josy was so distressed by whatever happened in the cabin that she decided to take her own life. She did it gradually and in small doses so that the doctors wouldn't know.’

  ‘Steady on, Viktor. What are you trying to say?’

  ‘I don't expect you to be an expert on psychiatry, but maybe you've heard of Munchausen syndrome?’

  ‘Hmm, Munchausen, isn't that a fancy name for pathological lying?’

  ‘Sort of. People suffering from Munchausen's make themselves unwell because they want to be noticed. They realize that they get more attention when they're ill.’

  ‘You mean they'd poison themselves to get a few visitors?’

  ‘They want people to feel sorry for them. It's nice to get grapes and chocolates and other presents. Munchausen patients crave sympathy.’

  ‘That's loopy.’

  ‘It's a serious condition, and Munchausen patients are often excellent actors, which makes it difficult to diagnose. I've seen cases where sufferers have simulated medical problems so convincingly that experienced doctors have fallen for the act. Treatment is given for the phantom symptoms while the underlying illness – the Munchausen's – is ignored. Of course, some patients are able to induce genuine physical symptoms, for instance by ingesting weed killer and presenting with an ulcer.’

  ‘Hang on a minute . . . You don't think your own daughter . . . I mean, Josy was only eleven when she had her first attack!’

  ‘And perhaps it was poison that induced it, who knows? To be honest, Kai, I'm tired of not knowing. I feel like part of my life is shrouded in darkness, and I need to shed light on it. I know Anna's delusional, but I can't help wondering if she's right. It might be unlikely, but it's certainly not impossible. I'd rather have a more comforting explanation, but it's the only one we've got.’

  ‘OK, let's pretend for a moment that you're not completely crazy.’ Judging by the noise in the background, Kai had left the hard shoulder and rejoined the flow of traffic. ‘Suppose Anna is right and Josy poisoned herself, there's one blindingly obvious question: how? Don't try to convince me that a little kid would know enough about drugs to pick one that would poison her so slowly that the best doctors in the country would be fooled.’

  ‘I didn't say I had the answer, Kai. Look, maybe parts of Anna's story don't make sense, maybe none of it hangs together. All I care about is whether any of this has a bearing on Josy. It's why I put you on th
e case.’

  ‘Fine, I'll look into it. I was going to call you anyway. I just made the weirdest discovery.’

  ‘What?’ Sweat was running down Viktor's back. He wasn't sure whether to put it down to panic or the flu.

  ‘I followed your instructions. I went to your house to get the disks from the safe. Are you sitting down?’

  ‘Don't tell me the disks weren't there.’

  ‘No, but the footage from the first week has been wiped.’

  ‘Wiped? The disks were write-protected. You'd have to destroy them to get rid of the data.’

  ‘Well someone has managed it. I fetched the disks as soon as we got off the phone and went through them this morning. They're blank.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘No, just the disks from the first week. That's what's so weird. I thought maybe you'd got the cases mixed up and put the disks somewhere else, so I went back to check. The first week's footage is gone.’

  Viktor could feel himself swaying and clung to the mantelpiece. ‘What do you think of my theory now?’ he asked the PI. ‘I suppose you still think it's a coincidence and Anna made everything up?’

  ‘No, but . . .’

  ‘Come on, Kai, this is our first real lead in four years. I'll be damned if I'm letting you dismiss it.’

  ‘I'm not dismissing anything. I'm just worried about Anna Glass.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘There's something funny about her.’

  ‘She's schizophrenic.’

  ‘Apart from that. I checked her out. We cross-referenced every single fact.’

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘We found nothing at all.’

  ‘That's good, isn't it?’

  ‘It's bloody alarming. It means she doesn't exist.’

  ‘I don't follow.’

  ‘Anna Glass doesn't exist. We couldn't find any authors by that name, let alone bestselling authors with fan clubs in Japan. She didn't grow up in Berlin, she didn't have a father who worked for the AFN, and she never lived in Steglitz.’

  ‘Damn. Have you checked with the Park?’

  ‘They're still stalling. It's a classy place, but not so classy that I won't find someone who'll spill the details in return for some cash. I thought the guy who took over from you at the clinic might be able to help – Professor van Druisen.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What's the big deal?’

  ‘I'd rather handle it myself. In this instance, I'll be able to get my hands on the information faster than you. Let me tackle the clinic and van Druisen. See what else you can find and take another look at Josy's room. We left it exactly the way it was. You might spot something new.’

  Pills? Chemicals?

  There was no need for Viktor to spell it out.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And find out whether anyone can remember a blonde woman and a sick little girl checking into the Park Hyatt in Hamburg four years ago.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do it.’

  ‘It was four years ago, Viktor! I doubt anyone at the Hyatt has worked there that long.’

  ‘Please, Kai.’

  ‘Fine, but you've got to promise me something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stay away from Anna Glass. Don't let her into the house. I don't want her near you until we know who she is. She might be dangerous.’

  ‘We'll see.’

  ‘I mean it, Viktor. I won't keep my side of the bargain unless you cut off all contact with that woman. You've got to be careful.’

  ‘I'll do my best.’

  Viktor hung up the phone. Kai's voice was still echoing in his head.

  Be careful. She might be dangerous.

  He had been given the same advice by two people in twenty-four hours. He was beginning to think they might be right.

  28

  ‘Park Clinic, Dahlem. Karin Vogt speaking. How can I help?’

  ‘Hello, this is Viktor Larenz, Dr Viktor Larenz. A patient of mine spent a number of years in your care. I'd like to speak to the consulting doctor, if I may.’

  ‘Certainly, Dr Larenz,’ trilled Karin. ‘If you could tell me his name . . .’

  ‘That's the problem. I don't know the name of the doctor, but I can give you the patient's name.’

  ‘In that case, I can't help you. Patient records are strictly confidential, as I'm sure you're aware. I'd be breaching our code of conduct if I gave out that kind of information. The simplest solution would be to ask your patient and then call back.’

  ‘I'm afraid it's not possible.’ First, I don't know where she is. Second, I don't want her to know that I'm suspicious. And third, I need to find out what she did to my daughter. ‘She's not in a position to tell me.’

  ‘Can't you look in her notes?’ asked Karin, who was in danger of losing her trill.

  ‘It wasn't an official referral. She came to see me of her own accord. Look, I applaud you for respecting the privacy of your patients. You obviously do a great job, and I don't want to waste your time, but if you could do me one small favour, I'll leave you in peace. It's just a matter of looking up a name on your computer. If you find it, you can transfer me to the consultant in charge of the appropriate unit. That way you're helping me and my patient without breaching your code.’

  Viktor could practically see her tossing her glossy hair indecisively while she made up her mind.

  ‘Please, Ms Vogt,’ he said, smiling as he spoke. His friendly manner did the trick. Viktor could hear her tapping away at her computer.

  ‘What's her name?’

  ‘Glass,’ he said quickly. ‘Anna Glass.’

  The tapping stopped abruptly. ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’ she demanded. The trill had definitely gone.

  ‘A joke?’

  ‘Any other “patients” you'd like me to check for? Elvis Presley, perhaps?’

  ‘I'm afraid I don't follow . . .’

  ‘Listen to me, Dr Larenz . . .’ Karin Vogt sighed angrily. ‘If this is some kind of hoax, you've got a sick sense of humour. And don't even think of recording this conversation – I know my rights.’

  Viktor had no idea what to make of her sudden change of heart, but he wasn't going to take it lying down. ‘No, Ms Vogt, you listen to me. My name is Dr Viktor Larenz, and I'm not in the business of making spoof calls. If you don't give me a sensible answer in the next thirty seconds, I'll inform Professor Malzius that his receptionist is extremely rude. He and I are golfing associates, you should know.’

  It was a double lie: Viktor found Professor Malzius almost as abhorrent as playing golf. But it worked.

  ‘I'm sorry I snapped, Dr Larenz. I found your question upsetting.’

  ‘Upsetting? I thought you'd agreed to check my patient's name?’

  ‘Dr Larenz, I was the one who found her. Surely you must have read the reports?’

  Found her?

  ‘Found her where?’

  ‘On the floor. It was dreadful, really dreadful . . . Now, if you don't mind, Dr Larenz, I have to answer another call. I've got three people on hold.’

  ‘I'm sorry, what was so dreadful about it?’ asked Viktor, trying to make sense of what he had heard.

  ‘She drowned in her own blood. Isn't that dreadful enough?’

  Dead? Anna is dead? But it doesn't. . .

  ‘I'm afraid I don't follow. I saw her yesterday.’

  ‘Yesterday? There must be some mistake. I found Anna's body in the ward office a year ago. There was nothing I could do.’

  A year ago?

  ‘How did a patient get into the ward office?’ wondered Viktor. He had been pondering a hundred different questions, but this one came out first.

  ‘Dr Larenz, it's hard to believe that you don't know what happened, but I'll tell you all the same. Anna Glass wasn't a patient; she was a student on an internship. She's dead, I'm still here, and I have to get on. All right?’

  ‘Yes.’ br />
  No, not really, it's not all right at all.

  ‘One last thing. What happened? How did she die?’

  ‘She was poisoned. Anna Glass was poisoned.’

  Viktor dropped the receiver and stared out of the window. Nothing but darkness, impenetrable darkness.

  Like the darkness overhead.

  29

  Later, when he developed nausea, diarrhoea and blurred vision, he could no longer ignore the evidence that he had contracted something more serious than a cold. None of his usual remedies – aspirin, vitamin C, and throat spray – seemed to be having much effect. And his beloved Assam tea, far from soothing his sore throat, was actually making it worse. In fact, the bitter aftertaste was getting stronger with every cup, leading him to wonder if he had forgotten to strain the pot.

  The beginning of the end coincided with Anna's penultimate visit to the house. She turned up unannounced that afternoon while he was napping fitfully. Still wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, he dragged himself to the door.

  ‘Are you still feeling poorly?’ she enquired straightaway.

  He wondered how long she had been knocking. In his dream, a pneumatic drill had been going for some time before he realized that it was someone at the door.

  ‘I'm just a bit under the weather. I thought we arranged to talk this evening?’

  ‘We did. Don't worry, I won't disturb you. I just dropped by to give you this.’

  On seeing that she was holding something, he opened the door a little further and was shocked to see that Anna looked a mess. There was almost nothing left of the smart, attractive young woman who had appeared in his sitting room four days earlier. She hadn't brushed her hair, and her blouse looked creased. Her eyes were flicking nervously back and forth while she drummed her long slim fingers on a brown manila envelope that she was clutching with both hands.

  ‘What's that?’

  ‘The end of the book – the final ten chapters describing everything I went through with Charlotte. It was playing on my mind, so I decided to write the story again from memory.’

  When? At half past three in the morning, after breaking into my house? Or four hours later, when you called me at home?