Pace leans forwards in his chair. ‘How the fuck is anything I just said helping with your report?’ He wants to stand up, grab the yellow pad and find the last note his doctor made.

‘Please sit back, Detective Pace.’ The doctor’s voice is so calming. ‘I merely noted that you are considering this case and that your critical thinking is in order. You can remain removed from the case. Much as I believe you remained removed from your previous case.’

He lies.

He wrote The only way they can stop. Then he circled stop three times.

Pace sits back.

Artaud starts to cough. It doesn’t stop.

‘Is everything okay?’ Pace sits forwards. ‘Maybe I should get you some water.’

The detective stands up and moves over to the cabinet and fills a glass. He places it down on Artaud’s desk and catches a glimpse of his yellow legal pad. The doctor takes a sip, thanks Pace, and the detective returns to his seat.

‘I really should quit the cigars,’ Artaud half jokes. ‘I’m too old for that, though.’

Pace is not resting backwards in his chair. He’s seen enough. It’s over. He has the all-clear. He beat the system. He just wants out.

‘Look, I know we have ten minutes left, but it really is a formality, as you say, we could just end it here.’

Artaud stares at Pace and says nothing. Neither of them move. It seems the doctor is scrutinising his patient, looking into him. Eventually, he nods.

‘I’ll call the station tomorrow and you’ll get a letter from me in a couple of days. Get yourself back on a real case.’ Artaud stands up and offers his hand. Pace steps towards the desk and shakes it. It isn’t until he feels the doctor’s grip that he realises how frail the man is. He seems a lot bigger in his position of power.

‘I’ve been thinking about those bridges. How do you find so many people willing to take their own life?’

‘It’s a condition for anything living to contemplate its own death. It’s our one certainty. I think that most people at one point or another have considered what the world would be like without them.’

Pace ponders the statement then asks, ‘You think there’ll be another bridge?’

‘I’m afraid there will be, yes.’

‘I have to be there this time.’

‘There is no doubt in my mind that you will be, Detective.’

With that, they part ways.

106

Dr Artaud wakes the next day with blood on his pillow. He checks his nose with his hand, then his ears, but there is nothing there. He feels his face and lips for cuts. Nothing. He has to assume he was coughing again in the night. He can smell the cigar on his fingertips.

Totally worth it.