Chapter 20 Chapter Nineteen

Walter's body, attached to IV lines and monitors, was so pale that it looked more like a marble statue than a conscious person.He was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, and only the rise and fall of the quilt on his chest showed that he was still alive.Jones imitated the nurse, leaned forward, and whispered clearly to Walter: "Can you hear me, Mr. Tardin? I am a police officer. I am Detective Superintendent Brian Jones." "You don't have to shout. I'm not deaf." The old man half-opened his eyes, "but I can't see very well. Who's the other one?"

"Inspector Nick Beale... Scotland Yard. We are investigating an assault on you." "It's finally here. I've been wondering what I'm paying so much tax for." Jones laughed. "Do you remember what happened?" "Some bastard wants to rob me." "Do you know who it is?" The old man's lips pursed, as if thinking were a physical act. "Blindfolded fool," he murmured suddenly, "hasn't had a chance . . . coming out of me as I was pulling out my keys." "Is that the man you spoke to at the bank?" "That's the one."

Jones looked at Bill suspiciously. "Are you sure, sir?" asked the Inspector. "Have you seen the assailant?" The old man's blue-veined eyelids closed again, "clear as daylight...followed me home because he knew I had cash on me...scumbag." "Are you sure, sir? You said you couldn't see very well." Walter's mouth began to move again, muttering something inaudible to himself: "After he hit me hard on the head, I drove him off with the cane." Bill hesitated. "Is it inside or outside your house, Mr. Tardin? Did you let him in?"

The question seemed to worry the old man, and he murmured and babbled to himself, and Bill vaguely heard him saying that stupid old fool... must never tell Amy. "Outside." "Are you sure, Mr. Tardin? According to our eyewitnesses, you were not wearing a cane at the bank." His mouth muttered frantically, "I don't remember." "Did your daughter tell you to be careful and not let strangers into the house?" "Won't do that... I know." "You were found passed out in front of a shop in Gainsborough Road, opposite your house. What made you cross the road? Wasn't there someone to help you from your own house?"

"A little distance." This time it was Bill's turn to glance at his superior suspiciously, "Is it between you and the attacker?" "that is." "Why don't you call 9997 from home" "The one who didn't intend to open the door... did something stupid." Bill was about to point out that his account was not true when Jones interposed, "You have courage, Mr. Tadine. There are not many old men who stand up to someone younger and stronger than themselves. You saw him hit your weapon." Do you remember what it was?" "Heavy something."

"Do you remember anything you did to make this man angry?" "Refused to give money." "Does he want money?" Walter's eyes snapped open, horror on his face, "So, she's right?" "I don't know, sir. It depends on who she is and what she says." He struggled to concentrate. "Amy...a stupid old fool." Jones shook his head. "We believe you were the fourth person attacked by the killer, sir. The first three victims were all dead. You're only alive because you fought back." He paused. "If you were worried We will tell your daughter what you said to us and please accept my personal guarantee that this will never happen, okay? You are our only witness and your information is vital to us."

The old man couldn't absorb so much content for a while, "I didn't do anything... No one will open their door anymore." Jones sighed and tried again. "Did you hit the murderer? Do you remember touching any part of his body?" Walter's mouth began to move again, "Skin and bones...almost like stick insects... used to observe them in science class at school...never liked them." Fear flickered again in his eyes, "don't Tell Amy." "Is he dementia or the sequelae of sedation?" Jones asked the female nurse outside the ward, "Will he be so confused tomorrow?"

The nurse shrugged. "It's hard to say. We've been waking him up gradually, and he's been fully awake for three or four hours...so, theoretically, the hangover has subsided." "Best estimate?" She grimaces wryly, "You've seen him at his best. He talks to you much smarter than when he first woke up." She pauses, "He talked to me when he first woke up." The first thing I said was 'Don't tell Amy' and I kept repeating it on and off after that. Don't know if that helps you." "You know what he doesn't want her to know?"

"Not really sure, but his daughter is a shrew - she's been pressuring us from the moment he was brought into the hospital - and I'm guessing she treats her dad as well. If you don't mind, I There's another guess—just don't blame me for being wrong." "Go on." "He also kept repeating things like 'Don't open the door' and 'Stupid old fool', which I'm sure are related. He told you more or less. I suspect his daughter warned him not to Letting strangers in and now he's anxious because he didn't listen to her. Don't open the door...don't tell Amy...stupid old fool."

"Did he mean opening the door for the attacker?" "I don't know. It depends on how long he's been inviting people into his house like this, maybe months." "Would it help if his daughter could convince him she wasn't angry?" "Admit that he opened the door? I don't know. You'll have to ask a geriatric psychiatrist." "Best guess?" Jones pressed. "Probably not if the person he's afraid of is his daughter. Maybe you'll have better luck with a specialist." She paused again. "Does it matter? Walter wasn't confused about who did it. He It was clearly described to you."

"Just not necessarily the truth. He lied about where the attack happened." "Just because he's afraid of Amy." Jones rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is this a common symptom of Alzheimer's disease? Can a person switch between truth and lies without difficulty? You don't need to think about it?" Bill lost his composure. "At first he seemed excited," he pointed out, "and made a joke about taxes." The nurse seemed uneasy, as if she felt being lured into areas outside her purview. "You need to talk to a specialist," she told them, "everything I know about Alzheimer's is probably enough to put on a cigarette pack." "There's still a lot more than we know," Jones said lightly. "Would you mind telling us why you think some of Walter's words are true, but not all of them?" "I'm not sure," she thought for a moment, "Okay, let me answer your first question. You're wondering if people with Alzheimer's would intentionally lie...the answer is yes, of course they would. It depends on where he is at the time and whether there's something to hide like Walter did. It's the three ages of life - vulnerable old people lie like children when they're afraid of being called out." "So, isn't Walter lying about the man with the blindfold?" "Because he doesn't need to. His daughter won't be offended by his description of the attacker. His concern is about letting that person into the house, not who he is." She observed their expressionless faces. face, "I'm not saying I'm right." Jones nodded, "Actually, we've established that it can't be the friend with the blindfold. Walter lied about him too." He saw the nurse pursing her lips angrily, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you Mistake, I was just wondering why you found parts of Walter's testimony credible." "He didn't seem concerned." "Until the sheriff asked if he said or did something to piss off the attacker," Bill interjected, "and he quickly started talking about stick insects. What does that mean?" The nurse shook her head. "I'm not the one you should be asking. I'm going to call one of the doctors. They can tell you far more than I can." She tried to walk away, but Jones stopped her. "One last question...don't worry," he held up a hand reassuringly, "I'm seeking a personal opinion, not a medical one. You called Walter's daughter a shrew. What kind of attacker would make her Is her father so angry that he would rather say someone else did it?" She looked at her watch. "If you stay a few minutes longer, you can ask her directly. When I called to tell her that Walter had regained consciousness, she said she would be there around 6 o'clock." "I still want to hear your opinion." The nurse laughed unexpectedly, "Young, female, pretty," she said flippantly, "but I don't think a shrew would admit it...unless you tell her you're looking for a girl in a miniskirt. " Jones took out his notebook, opened a blank page, and jotted down some sentences. "How old is your mother?" he asked Bill. "59 years old." "Are you satisfied with her life?" "so so." "Where are your children? How old are they?" "One is 7 years old and the other is 5 years old." The sheriff smiled at him. "Good answer, Nick. You're an expert on depressed menopausal women, and I'm an expert on rebellious adolescents." He tore out the page and handed it to Bill. "I'll talk to Ben, and you'll talk to Ms. Tardin. If you can convince her to answer these questions, you may gain something, but you may have to talk to her first, and you can't get straight to the point." Bill read what was on the paper.Does Walter prostitute?Where does he usually find them?How long has he been like this?Does he have a regular partner? "Thanks," he said tartly. "You want to give me some hints on how I should talk to his daughter about an 82-year-old's sex life? That's not something I do very often." "Use your imagination." Jones patted the assistant on the back, "just make sure you talk to her before she sees her father. If she thinks she can blame Charles Ackland for the attack, mention It's no big deal to see a prostitute." Sitting in a chair in the hallway, Bill was on the phone with a colleague to find out what questions he had asked Amy Tudine during his previous interviews.The answer is not much. "She was so worried, we didn't have to press too hard." Most of the questions were about Walter's daily habits, how often she visited him, what activities he did throughout the day, and so on.She also helped the police take stock of the house and made a list of friends and acquaintances. She talked about her father's growing forgetfulness, but said nothing about the pressure on him to keep the door shut.Bill's co-worker said she was "a little angry" at the time, tearing up as she spoke about her brothers' refusal to help care for Walter. "She's a full-time personal assistant, and she's exhausted just dealing with her own business." A stylishly dressed middle-aged woman walked in, and Bill stood up. "Ms. Tardin?" Seeing her nod, he held out his hand, "Inspector Nick Bill. I know you're desperate to see Father, but can I have five minutes with you before that? The nurse lent I have a small office down the hall." He smiled apologetically, "It's very important, ma'am, or I wouldn't ask for it." From a traditional aesthetic point of view, she is good-looking, with light makeup and neatly combed dark hair, but a few deep wrinkles at the corners of her mouth suggest that she is more sad than smiling.At this moment she was not smiling. "How do I know you are who you say you are? You could be anyone." Bill showed his ID. "There's a phone in the nurse's office. You can call to verify my identity." She handed the paper back to him uninterestedly, "I've already told your people everything I know. What's the use of five more minutes?" "I'd rather discuss this privately, Ms. Tardin. Some of the questions your father has raised are quite sensitive." She frowned unhappily, but still walked towards the other end of the corridor under Bill's guidance, "You know, you shouldn't believe everything he said. He even forgot about my mother a few weeks ago." The name ... insisted it was Ella ... and it was the name of one of my sister-in-laws. He thought of Mum again the next day, but there was no point in arguing with him, he didn't like being told he was wrong." Bill closed the office door and pulled out a chair for her. "Did Ella visit him that day?" "No way. She lives in Australia with my brother." Bill sat down in another chair and gave her a sympathetic smile. "Where's your other brother? Does he live closer?" "Manchester...but it could be in Australia too. Dad hasn't seen him for 12 months. He popped in last Sunday because he wanted to see if there was anything wrong with the house...but he wasn't prepared to Sit down with Dad." She fiddled with the button of her handbag, "He said he didn't have time because he had to be back in Manchester by seven." "Let me take the responsibility as usual?" She nodded. "It's not easy, you're working 40 hours a week and you have your own life. Does your brother know how difficult it is to understand your father's actions?" Amy Tadin was not one to be easily influenced, and she looked at Bill with puzzled eyes, "What did my dad say?" Bill hesitated. "What he didn't say was much more important than what he said, Ms. Tudine. He seemed to be in constant anxiety, repeating three sentences...'Don't open the door'...'Don't Tell Amy '...'stupid old fool'." He folded his hands on the table, staring at the woman in front of him, "We think you're the one he's afraid of." She immediately curled her lips, "Just because I told him I was going to certify him and put him in a nursing home. I've had enough. He's behind on his family taxes... the fuel bill hasn't been paid for months I paid it, it’s a big bill.” She snorted and looked tense, “He wants me to pay, but I don’t understand why I should pay.” Bill agrees, "Does he live on a state pension?" "There's also a work pension, but he won't tell me how much. He's been a printer for 40 years, and the pension is a must." She looks annoyed, but understandably, "he locks up all the papers , for fear I'd find out...but there's never enough money to pay the bills. I've been trying to convince him to give me a power of attorney, but he keeps saying—" She stopped abruptly. Bill didn't push, and he'd bet she was angry enough to carry on on her own. "This is ridiculous. The only other way for me to manage his affairs is to go through the courts and put him on financial liquidation, but I need a medical certificate that he is incapable of managing his own property, and his doctor won't Give me a certificate. He said that Dad is still in the stage of mild Alzheimer's disease, and he may remain like this until he dies." She paused, "It's not worth wasting this time anyway. As soon as the court notifies my brother We are making such an application, and they will immediately object." She fell silent again. "why?" Amy smiled wryly, "They only care about what they can inherit in the future. Whether Dad is squandering his retirement money has nothing to do with them. This house is 20 times more expensive than when he bought it in 1970 .They don't care how hard it is for me, as long as their inheritance doesn't get sold to pay for nursing homes." Seeing her depressed, Bill wasn't sure how abrupt his next question was, "Did your father tell you where he spent his retirement money?" Either she misunderstood the question, or Bill's tentative tone suggested that he already knew the answer, and the look of resignation on her face, "Will it be in the papers?" "I dare not say it yet." "This is absolutely disgusting. Why would an 82-year-old want to do something like that? It's only been a few years since Mum died!" "Maybe that's why," Bill said. "I guess he told you he didn't do anything with them... just wanted to talk because he was lonely." She continued without waiting for Bill to answer, "That's not true. The more they get, the richer they get. I've found cups with semen in them. It's disgusting." "It's hard enough for you." "He's so old that he often forgets if he's paid. They just ask for the money in advance and then again afterward...he keeps opening his wallet. He must be the most gullible in Bermondsey I told the doctor that Daddy had become a bank for every whore in the area...you know what he said?" The creases at the corners of her mouth deepened in resentment, "It might be good for his prostate !"