I can’t believe it. They’re not listening to me. ‘She didn’t kill herself,’ I repeat angrily. Kate’s been on and off antidepressants for decades but she’s never been suicidal.
‘We’ll do a toxicology report,’ the doctor reassures me.
Oh shit, I think in alarm. What about all the other drugs she took that night? Those will all show up on the toxicology report. Another thought strikes me that until now hadn’t occurred: it’s possible Kate had some kind of adverse reaction to the drugs she took. I’ve heard stories of people on coke and other drugs thinking they could fly and throwing themselves off roofs and balconies trying to prove it. It’s a possibility, and certainly no more out there than the other ones I’ve come up with so far.
‘Let’s let the doctor do his post mortem,’ Reza says, gently. ‘I have officers looking at the cameras all along the riverfront, trying to establish where she fell in the water.’
The doctor shakes our hands, takes his leave and walks off.
‘What do we do?’ Rob asks Reza. ‘How long will it take? How do we arrange for the body to be flown home?’
‘The public prosecutor will open an inquiry,’ she says.
‘Prosecutor? I don’t understand,’ I stammer.
‘It is standard for suspicious deaths.’
‘Right,’ I answer, nodding and frowning at the same time.
‘In Portugal, once the body is released to the family, it must be cremated or buried within seventy-two hours,’ Reza explains. ‘After the autopsy we can help you arrange this. Or your embassy can.’
How can we be talking about cremations and burials? How is any of this real? It’s a nightmare and I need someone to pinch me awake.
‘OK,’ Rob says, taking charge. He seems as stunned as me but luckily is holding it together better than I am. I’m so grateful that he’s here. I don’t think I could do any of this alone.
‘You should call her family and friends,’ Reza says to us, ‘and let them know before the media starts to report it. We’ll release her name to the public in a few hours’ time.’
A shudder racks me. How in God’s name will I tell her mum?
‘And you need to stay in the country until we’ve finished the inquiry.’ Nunes’s eyes flash to me as he says it, and maybe I’m imagining it but there’s a hard look in them, as though he suspects me of pushing Kate in the river or something.
‘How long will that be?’ Rob asks.
‘Possibly a day, maybe longer,’ he answers. ‘We can’t say for sure.’
‘But we have a baby at home,’ I interject. ‘We can’t stay.’
‘You can leave,’ Nunes says to Rob. ‘She needs to stay.’ He jerks her head in my direction and it feels sharp as a nettle sting.
‘But why?’ Rob protests on my behalf. ‘It’s not like Orla had anything to do with it.’
Reza interrupts. ‘It is just the way we do things here.’
‘Fine,’ Rob says wearily. He turns to me. ‘Let’s go. Can we go?’ he checks with Reza.
She nods and steps aside to let us by. I’m a few steps past her when I stop and turn back around. ‘The men – Joaquim and Emanuel – did you find them yet? Did you speak to them?’
She shakes her head and I let Rob guide me to the exit and outside into the warm night-time air.
We don’t speak. I just lean against Rob, folded into him, my fingers clutching his shirt. The howl is still there, trapped in my chest, a typhoon of grief just waiting to be unleashed.
‘What do we do?’ I finally manage to whisper.
‘Let’s get a drink,’ he answers.
I nod. We start to walk without any sense of direction but it doesn’t take long before we find a bar, signalling us with its glowing sign. My gut lurches at the sight of it. It reminds me of the Blue Speakeasy sign. Kate’s voice calls suddenly in my head. Her laughter rings around me so loud I think for a moment she’s there and I turn to look for her but of course she isn’t. She isn’t anywhere.
Now we’re away from that awful mortuary place I can’t help but wonder if it was all a hideous mistake. What if it wasn’t her? What if I got it wrong and identified the wrong person, someone who looks like her but isn’t her? But Rob agreed. It was her.
As we stumble inside the bar like battle-weary soldiers and collapse at a small table, I catch myself thinking how not