Chapter Four
Rodriquez was welcomed by the familiar smell of penicillin as he hurriedly walked into the hospital lobby through the large translucent glass doors. Turning right, he reached for the steel doors of the hospital elevator and pressed the vertical arrow. Inside the empty lift, he pressed the number for the third floor. Emerging from the lift, his eyes were immediately drawn to the white board hanging above the lobby’s white ceiling which read in navy blue italics– Terceiro piso -Third floor.
Straightening himself, he strolled into the lobby’s open space aiming for the long narrow corridor. He nodded his head as a sign greeting on his way past a tall spectacled man dressed in white who stood behind a curved light brown reception desk. The silence inside the hospital corridor was deafening. He became alert. Natalia’s room was at the extreme end. Stopping, he looked back. The corridor looked still and felt eerie. Something wasn’t right.
Anxious, he approached the shut white door on which were inscribed the numbers Fifteen and the letter A. He turned the polished golden door knob. A cold chill ran through his spine and his body became rigid. Inside was dark and devoid of life. A strong smell of antiseptic filled the air. Rodriquez worryingly noticed that Natalia’s empty bed was well arrayed as though ornamented. A neatly folded white bed sheet had been placed atop the well laid out pale green blanket. ‘Where was Natalia?’ Rodriquez wondered loudly. His heart pounding fiercely, Rodriquez spun around and run wildly through the long hospital corridor back towards the lobby area where he’d seen the tall spectacled male nurse.
‘Hey, Excuse sir!’ he called out to the man.
‘Is anything the matter sir?’ The man asked. Rodriquez instantly recognized a gold coated metallic tag fastened to the left breast of the man's v-shaped white top and on it was written Alberto Nestorio, the male nurse’s names. The man’s blue eyes which were hidden behind large rectangular spectacles stared intensely at Rodriguez.
‘Alberto, am sorry to intrude like this but my wife from room 15A, she is missing. I mean, she isn’t in her room!’ A terrified Rodriquez blubbered. The man appeared unmoved. He gently pressed onto the keyboard in front of him and the computer screen lit up shooting rays of blue light onto his glass lenses. A few seconds passed in silence before he raised his head from the computer screen and stared at Rodriquez.
‘Is she Natalia de Silva Rodriquez?’ He inquired.
Rodriquez nodded in affirmative.
‘Am terribly sorry sir, she passed away an hour ago.’
The sound of these words hit Rodriquez like a hammer. A lump tagged at his throat. His knees gave way and he found himself squatting as tears began to fill in his eyes. The room around him started to spin as a flood of tears run down his cold dry skin and cheeks. Then he felt a hand grab and pull him from above. It was the male nurse.
‘I want to see her.’ Rodriquez said through the maze of tears flowing across his face and mouth. He was afraid what he might see but he needed to see his beautiful Natalia one last time.
'This way please.' Whispered the male nurse. He led Rodriquez to a wide staircase on the left. They walked passed two lower floors before descending further below into the basement which housed the Adventista Silvestre Morgue.
The Hospital morgue had three cold rooms and in each of the rooms were twelve cold drawers and a burning chamber. Rodriquez was led into the middle room which reeked of rotting flesh. The room’s pale blue walls looked gloomy and damp. On the ceiling hang a single light bulb illuminating the bunker. They were greeted by an aging male attendant with a wrinkled face and a hunched back. The old man proceeded to drag a body wrapped in a white plastic sheet from the cooler before checking the body’s toe tag to ascertain whether its number matched the one on the register presented him. Satisfied, he unzipped the plastic sheet revealing a lean stretched out naked cadaver. He lifted the lifeless corpse effortlessly placing it onto a metallic stretcher. Its dangling head was turned facing towards Rodriguez. Her eyes were still opened, her face expressionless, pale and ghostly. Purple. The tall spectacled male nurse quickly excused himself leaving Rodriquez, the attendant and the corpse alone in the smelly morgue. Turning his creased face towards Rodriquez, the hunched man asked.
‘Want t’ do an autopsy or want t’ burn?’ His gingered breath was flat and routine. He looked calm around death. Rodriquez didn’t answer. The man gave him a deathly gaze before turning his hunched back and slowly dragging his old limbs towards the autopsy table which stood in the left corner of the room.
The autopsy table was waist-high and made of aluminum. It had various taps and holes attached to it to enable blood and possibly other stuff to drain away. It was slanted too with raised edges possibly to keep blood from draining right off onto the floor. Rodriquez also noticed a dissecting knife whose handle had several retractable blades, scissors with long handles, other short blades and a Saw. He had seen enough. Returning his solemn gaze to Natalia’s body flattened on the stretcher, he closed his wet eyes.
‘Burn.’ he managed to say.
The attendant turned back walking slowly past Rodriquez towards the furnace. On reaching the furnace, his old wrinkled hands began to turn a few knobs. The old man then proceeded to wheel Natalia slowly to her final aboard. Rodriquez’ heart kept racing violently within him as he watched the man begin to lift Natalia’s body from the stretcher.
‘Wait!’ Rodriquez shouted, ‘Are those marks on her neck?’
The attendant, curious too, edged forward to examine the spot Rodriquez was pointing at. Both men exclaimed. The body had swellings and abrasions on the neck area. Natalia had been strangled.
Rodriquez once again stormed the lobby area startling the tall spectacled male nurse.
‘What is the problem mister?’ The man inquired looking irritated.
‘My wife was strangled!’ Rodriquez yelled.
‘Is that what the coroners’ report says? You already did the autopsy?’ the nurse asked. Rodriquez could see the man’s expression had transformed, he now looked nervous. Rodriquez knew that bad press about a Hospital in Rio de Janeiro was something no one needed given the rising healthcare costs that had already brought about street protests and all this seemed to flush across Nurse Alberto Nestorio's face.
‘How did you come to know about something so horrific?’ Nurse Alberto asked. His voice had dropped to a whisper. Rodriquez instead bellowed louder.
‘I saw the marks on her neck! I demand to view the Hospital surveillance cameras at once!’
He was now on the verge on climbing over the counter but on seeing the nurse’s eyes flicker with fear, he calmed himself down and waited. He heard the nurse mutter a few incoherent words, watched him nervously remove a set of keys off the wall before motioning to Rodriquez to follow him.
‘Sir, come let’s go to the control room, maybe we can establish if any one went into your wife’s room other than Frida the nurse on night duty and God forbid that she could do something like that!’ He said as he led Rodriquez through the corridor now in the opposite direction.
The control room was stationed on the same floor, the third floor. Inside was cold and dark. Mounted gadgets and cables scattered everywhere. Green lights from a sea of buttons winked at Rodriquez and his guide in the darkened room. The only source of light that illumined the frozen room came from four computer screens horded together. Three of the four screens beamed images from inside the hospital and the fourth screen beamed images from the compound, the car park and the Hospital gate.
Nurse Alberto went straight to work on the three computer screens and as he sifted through the computer images, Rodriquez kept hovering above, both his eyes glued onto the screens. Rodriquez felt his eyes begin to twinge. He had hardly slept in the last twenty four hours.
‘Stop’ Rodriquez ordered abruptly. ‘Go back a little further, there. Freeze that image!’
His eyes widened.
In the third floor lobby camera caption, four figures stood still on the computer screen. The firs
t wore a black sports jacket and tight blue jeans, his companion had a thick moustache, a third man wore a navy blue double blazer suit, the same man Rodriquez had seen in the favela carrying a Cabernet Sauvignon, and the fourth man, Father Aurelio. The time on the screen was frozen at 2:38am.
'What were they doing here?' Rodriquez wondered out aloud.
‘Do you recall seeing these four men in the lobby this very night?’ Rodriquez asked pointing at the faces on the screen.
‘Yes, I did see them emerge from the lift and head left through the corridor but none of them asked for any directions or sought any assistance from me. So, I assumed they knew exactly where they were headed.’
‘What time was my wife declared dead?’
‘The medical chart read, 2:50am.’
‘And what time did these four depart?’
‘I never saw them depart.’
‘Let’s get out of here.’ Rodriquez said firmly.
Rodriquez sank onto a hard wooden bench holding his head in his hands. He was in the hospital lobby. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been sitting here. His blood shot eyes plastered with grief didn’t notice the approaching footsteps.
'Rodrigo, I’m so sorry.' A sad deep husky voice announced. 'If you need anything, please just say.' It was Miguel. He had driven straight from home upon receiving Rodriquez’s phone call. Rodriquez glanced at his friend who was now dressed in black suede shoes, a black pair of pants and a navy blue shirt with the collar open.
‘No, am fine thank you.’ Rodriquez replied, his face still angled low. Miguel settled his bulky frame next to Rodriquez.
‘What time is it?’ asked Rodriquez suddenly. Startled, Miguel’s deep voice was hard and tight,
‘6:23am, why?’
‘There is someone I need to talk to.’ Rodriquez answered in reply. He could hear his friend sigh.
‘I need to know the truth Miguel.’ Rodriquez said. His angry expression meeting Miguel. He stood up abruptly.
‘Where are you going?’ Miguel asked looking surprised.
‘Am off to see someone who I believe knows something about the dead girl in the Rochina.’ Rodriquez answered. He had resolved not to tell Miguel about the abrasions on Natalia’s neck or the four men in the camera caption. This was his fight.
‘It’s unfortunate that at such a trying moment you opt to keep working amigo.’ Miguel said rising too to meet his friend’s hard gaze.
‘An investigator's job never ceases until he ceases to exist.’ Rodriquez shot back angrily.
‘And who might this someone be if I may ask?’ Miguel asked, his expression somber.
‘Father Gustav Aurelio.’ Rodriquez replied
Miguel gazed hard into Rodriquez’s face.
‘Well, old friend,’ he said, ‘I’m deeply sorry about Natalia. I can’t bring her back although you know I would if I could. However amigo, the answers you seek will forever change your destiny. So, be careful.’
‘I will be.’