The Serpent's Skin by Erina Reddan (top 5 books to read .txt) 📕

Do what Maurice was always telling us to do—‘Follow the Facts’.

But Tessa was right about one thing. If I was doing her a favour, I had to keep Dad out of it. He wasn’t going to help, anyway. So since private facts were off limits, I’d start with the public ones.

The next day I didn’t even bother to call work. I needed to get to the hospital as soon as it opened for business, but standing in the grey functionality of its corridors almost undid me. I hadn’t factored in the tiny yet explosive fact. This was the hospital Mum died in. Still. I made myself take one step after the other until I found the medical records desk.

A tall woman with an afro and a white lab coat took the form with all my ticks and crosses and dropped it into the in-tray beside her.

‘Where shall I wait?’ I asked.

She looked at me over the top of her glasses. ‘Six weeks,’ she said and went back to tapping on her keyboard.

I bit my lip to hold back the immediate retort and took a breath. ‘Is there any way we could speed the process up?’ I asked in deliberately measured tones.

‘No.’ She didn’t look up this time. Somebody else in a white coat came through the glass doors and said a cheery hello as she passed the reception desk with a pile of manila folders in her arms. The woman before me was just as cheery back.

I tracked the somebody else through two sets of glass doors and then left into another room, where I got a glimpse through the opening door of rows and rows of manila folders in boxes.

‘It’s for the Managing Partner at Smith and Blake on a case of government importance,’ I said to the top of her head.

‘Really?’ She finished clicking on the keyboard with a flourish. She picked up my document and flicked through. ‘Sarah Anne McBride, of national importance?’

I nodded without blinking.

She shook her head, opened a drawer and placed another form on the desk. ‘You’ll have to fill that one out instead, then.’

I pulled it towards me, reaching into my handbag for my pen again.

‘That’ll be four weeks,’ she said.

‘Does Mr Smith really have to call you personally?’ I said, returning her frost.

‘Wouldn’t do him any good.’ She didn’t crack a smile. ‘He could try the premier, though.’

On the way out, I tried to slam the door, but being modern and glass it didn’t give much satisfaction. I retraced my steps down the long grey of the corridor and sat on a seat where I could track everybody who went in and went out of the records department in the distance. There wasn’t that much traffic. After an hour or so, the records woman came out. I hunched away, suddenly interested in something on the wall. She passed me by without noticing. I didn’t lose any time. Flew down the corridor, pushed through those double-glass doors, expecting to have to sweet talk somebody, but the desk was empty. I turned left and headed for the records room. There was probably only a slim chance they kept old records with the newer ones, but still. It was what I had.

I rushed along the rows of boxes trying to do a fast decipher of how the records were set up. I’d just figured out numbers against years when a voice stopped me.

‘Can I help you?’

I turned slowly, thinking fast.

‘Sure.’ I smiled brightly. ‘Could you point me to the nineteen sixties?’

The man did not smile back. He went to raise his arm, then paused. ‘But how did you get in here?’

I made up some story about being directed in here by somebody to get something for Dr Ryan from Cardio, thinking I needed a few facts to tie this lie to the flag of convincing truth.

I’m not sure how convinced he was, but his hand continued upwards and pointed me to the furthest room, and I turned on my heels, checking my watch as if Dr Ryan might actually be sitting there tapping his toes back in Cardio.

I found 1966 in the back corner of the far room and started to work my way up to 68. The bees on my skin got busier as I got closer. I was a cloud of buzz so I didn’t hear the far doors opening, nor the footsteps.

I did hear the almost tentative voice, though. ‘Miss.’

I turned with that bright smile plastered on again. But it faded fast at the sight of the security uniform.

‘You’ll have to come with me,’ he said with a polite smile, the stubble on his chin patchy because he wasn’t old enough to have grown into a beard.

I tried out my Dr Ryan again, but he was firm. Diffident and uncomfortable, but sure of the ground he was standing on.

‘Let me just have a quick look—’ I reached for the box of Ms in 1968. I was sure Mum’s file and whatever it had to tell or not tell me was only a few beats away. But I didn’t make it because, unexpectedly quick, he grabbed my arm and twisted it up behind my back, slamming me into the bookcase. I yelped. Without thinking, I kicked at his shins. It was his turn to yelp but he didn’t let go. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the records woman looking grimly at us from the door.

‘The police are on their way,’ she said.

‘Really, JJ?’ was the first thing Tye said to me when he picked me up at the police station hours later. ‘You think Maurice won’t hear about this?’

‘He’s not going—’

‘Stop being an idiot, JJ. You’re on skid row with Maurice anyway after what you got Suze to do.’

‘How did he find out?’ I blanched.

‘He’s Maurice. He knows everything.’

‘You saw where Jenna Stintini and the kids were living. We had to figure out where that scumbag husband of hers put the money.’

‘Getting Suze to flirt