Strange Affair

“All jobs have their difficulties,” said Dr. Lukas. “Mine included. I don’t see what point there is in you telling me how hard yours is.”

“I thought if you understood, then you’d see reason and tell me the truth.”

“Pardon?”

“I think you heard me.”

“But I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Are you suggesting I lied?”

“I’m saying that you might be hiding something because you think it reflects badly on you. I don’t think you’re lying so much as you’re obscuring the truth. Now it may or may not be important, or it may not seem important to you, but I’d like to know what it is, and I think you’d like to tell me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You get to know people in this job. I think you’re a decent person and I think you’re under a tremendous amount of pressure. Now that could simply be a matter of your work, or it could be due to personal problems which are nothing at all to do with this investigation. But the feeling I get is that there’s something else, and that it is co

“I see.” Dr. Lukas stood up and walked to the cocktail cabinet. “I think I need a drink,” she said, and took out a tumbler and a bottle of Southern Comfort. “What about you?”

“Nothing, thanks,” said A

“As you wish.” She poured herself a large measure and sat down again. This time she relaxed a little more into the armchair and the strain that etched the lines on her forehead and around her eyes and mouth eased. The concert ended and A

The clock ticked and rain tapped against the window. Still Dr. Lukas thought and sipped. Finally, when A

“About what?”

“About people withholding the truth. Do you think it doesn’t happen in my profession, too? People lie to me all the time. How much they drink. Whether they smoke. What drugs they take. How often they exercise. As if by lying they’d make themselves healthy. But I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Sometimes people use a different standard to measure themselves by,” said A

Dr. Lukas managed a flicker of a smile. “A fine distinction.”

“I’m not after getting you struck off.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“But I do want the truth. What are late girls?”

Dr. Lukas sipped some more Southern Comfort before answering, then she ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “It’s really very simple,” she said. “They are girls who come late to the center.”

“In what sense? Late in their pregnancies?”

“No. There you are quite wrong.”

“Well, I’ve hardly been steered in the right direction. This isn’t supposed to be a guessing game.”

“Now I am telling you. There have been no surgical procedures performed on girls beyond the twenty-four-week legal limit.”

“Okay,” said A

“Girl who come late to the center, after regular hours. In the evening.”

“When you’re working late?”

“I have a lot of paperwork. You wouldn’t believe it, even a doctor… but I do.”

“So why do these girls come after hours?”

“Why do you think?”

“They want to bypass the system for some reason, and you help them to do it?”

“These girls are prostitutes, for the most part, and many of them are illegal immigrants or asylum seekers. They can’t go through the National Health and they can’t afford our fees.”

“Pro-bono work, then?”

“You could say that.”

“What exactly do you do for them?”

“I handle the forms, the papers necessary to secure an abortion, if that’s what they want. If another doctor’s signature is needed, I get that too from someone at one of the clinics. They don’t ask me too many questions. It’s very easy and it harms no one.”

“Do you perform the abortions?”

“No. They are done elsewhere, at one of the clinics.”

“What do you do, then?”

“I examine them, make sure they are in good general health. There’s venereal disease to worry about. And AIDS, of course. Some girls have drug and alcohol problems. Many of the fetuses would be born with severe handicaps if they lived.”

“Do you supply drugs?”

Dr. Lukas looked directly at A

“So if we were to check the drugs at the center against records, they would match?”

“If they don’t, it’s not me who’s been taking them. But, yes, I think they would. Besides, we have no need for the kind of drugs you’re talking about at the center.”

“How often does this happen?”

“Not very often. Maybe once, sometimes twice a month.”

“Why do these girls come to you? How do they know about you?”

“Many of them are from eastern Europe,” Dr. Lukas said with a shrug. “I’m known in the community.”

That sounded a bit vague, A

“Yes.”

“When did she find out?”

“She’s known for a month or two. I didn’t realize she worked late sometimes, too. I thought I was alone there. You’ve seen how isolated my office is. The girls usually buzz the front door and I let them in myself. This time Je

“What did you tell her?”

“What I’m telling you.”

“And what was her reaction?”

“She became interested.” Dr. Lukas swirled the remains of her drink in her glass. “Je

“It didn’t disturb her, upset her?”

“No. She was a bit uncomfortable about it at first, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, she was the administrator. She helped to protect me. Paperwork got lost, that sort of thing. I told her it would be best if she didn’t tell anyone, that not everyone would understand.”

“We think she must have told her boyfriend.”

Dr. Lukas shrugged. “That was for her judgment alone.”

“So Je

“Yes. We were both trying to help unfortunate girls. It’s not that this happened often, you understand. It wasn’t a regular thing. These girls would not have been able to come if they’d had to pay. And remember, they couldn’t just walk into the nearest NHS clinic. What do you think would happen to them? Do you think there are no longer back-street abortionists using rusty coat hangers?”

“So what went wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong.”

“Je

“I know nothing about that. I’ve told you what I was keeping from you, who the late girls are and how and why I helped them. I’ve told you Je

“Did anyone else know? Georgina, for example?”

“No. At first it was only me, then Je

Somehow it didn’t all add up, A