‘I was having some quiet time,’ Natalie said, clamping the lid back down, slipping the metal container back into her shoulder bag. ‘A massage, actually.’
Gemma pulled out her notebook. ‘Where?’
‘It’s a place on the highway. A privately run business.’
‘I’ll need the name and contact details of your masseuse,’ Gemma said.
Natalie remained silent.
‘If I don’t get the details, the police will, and they’ll wonder why you were so mendacious in the first place.’
‘Mendacious? I’m just trying to keep some privacy in my life.’
Gemma leaned back in her car seat. There is no privacy in a family’s life, she thought. Not after the murder of the husband and father.
Natalie was groping around in her shoulder bag again. ‘Here’s the card. Take a good look and you’ll see why I was . . . mendacious.’
Gemma took the brightly coloured card. ‘Ladies,’ she read, ‘your pleasure is my business. For discreet sensuous pleasure, call Darren. In or out calls, 11 a.m. till late.’
Gemma put a hand on Natalie’s arm and, as their eyes met, understanding flashed between them.
‘Now do you get it? I’ve been neglected by Bryson for years.’ Natalie’s voice hardened again. ‘All his energy goes on the job – fighting for promotions, manoeuvring and dealing. Then recently, whatever little was left over he was giving to some other woman.’
‘And you were there – with Darren – for the total amount of time? One hour and nine minutes?’
Natalie nodded. ‘I had a bubble bath with him first,’ she said, ‘then the massage and sex, then a quick shower.’
They got out of the car and headed for the entrance of the hospital.
‘I’ll have to check this out with Darren,’ said Gemma, turning to Natalie and slipping the card into a sleeve in her briefcase, ‘and get your alibi established.’
‘My alibi!’ cried Natalie, pausing near the glass doors. ‘I didn’t think I’d be in the situation of having to provide an alibi.’ She flicked her hair back in a nervous gesture. ‘Now the police will have to be told. I’ll be a joke,’ she said, her voice hard and bitter. ‘I’ll be the subject of meal room spite.’
‘Angie McDonald is discreet,’ said Gemma. ‘And I have no reason to discuss your statement with anyone else.’
A courier carried a large floral delivery of green and white lilies through the front entrance just ahead of them.
‘That reminds me,’ said Gemma. ‘What is the story about the painting that Findlay gave you as a wedding present? Gift for Jason’s Bride. And where is it?’
‘That bloody thing! I thought it was wonderful until someone who knows all about Greek mythology told me the story of Jason. His ex sent a wedding gown as a gift to his new bride. But when the bride put the gown on, it consumed her like fire because it was poisoned. When I heard that, I knew how much Findlay hated me.’
Gemma frowned. It was a rather pointed image, she thought, to be given to a second wife.
‘I got rid of it.’
‘Why do you think Findlay hates you?’
Natalie sighed. ‘I can think of a lot of reasons. He’s never trusted women. God, you should have met his mother. He hated her. And he’s never really forgiven Bettina for loving Bryson first before him. In fact, I think he knows – knew, rather – that Bettina never really loved him. Just used him to save face after being . . . well, dumped when Bryson met me. That way, the blow to her ego was somewhat lessened.’ She threw Gemma a quick glance as they waited by the lift. ‘I never saw any reason to think she loved him. They led completely different lives. I used to wonder if the reason they never had kids was because they never had sex.’
‘It must be tough,’ said Gemma, ‘dealing with the death of your husband, your son’s condition and also finding yourself part of a murder investigation.’
‘Tough?’ Natalie said, her voice breaking into a sob. ‘Try unbearable. And Jade missing too . . .’
They stepped out onto the ward where Donovan lay, and Gemma waited while Natalie washed and gowned prior to going into the room at the end of the corridor.
‘Oh damn,’ said Natalie. ‘I meant to have a good look for Donny’s bear. He’s been missing for a while, but he’ll be the first thing Donny asks for when he comes round.’
‘I think I know where it is,’ Gemma said.
Natalie frowned. ‘You do?’
‘There was an old teddy bear in one of the cartons Angie collected from Bryson’s flat. Only about that tall? Pretty knocked about?’
‘That’s him,’ said Natalie. ‘That’s Mr Bear! He’s Donny’s security bear. Why on earth did Bryson take him?’
‘Maybe he took it as a memento of his son?’ Gemma suggested.
‘Bryson, sentimental? You’re joking!’ said Natalie. ‘Do you think I could get him back? I’ve been hunting high and low. Before the . . . accident,’ her voice broke again, ‘Donny was on and on at me to help find him.’
‘Call Angie,’ said Gemma. ‘Under the circumstances, they might be able to send the bear back to you.’
‘Your son’s doing beautifully,’ said the senior nurse at the desk, looking up as Natalie approached and nodding at Gemma. ‘We’re getting some eye contact. We think in a couple of days he’ll be sitting up and ordering us around.’
‘I’m ready,’ said Natalie, turning to the intensive care nurse.
Gemma watched through the window in the door as Natalie approached her son. The little figure on the bed seemed secondary to the banks of electronic monitors and equipment that surrounded and supported him.
Then Gemma saw with a stirring of excitement that the boy had opened his eyes. It was such a privilege to be here, she thought, witnessing this precious moment. Donovan turned his wide eyes towards Natalie. They widened even further, and Gemma anticipated the relief and pleasure of the little boy at seeing his mother at last.
But Donovan showed no relief or pleasure. Even through the heavy door, Gemma heard him.
The moment Donovan focused on his mother, his jaw dropped and he screamed.
And screamed and screamed and screamed.
Eighteen
Back in her car, Gemma sat trying to gather herself. She couldn’t get the scene she’d just witnessed out of her mind. Staff had rushed from everywhere into the intensive care room – it seemed that Donovan’s horrified screaming had penetrated to every ward on the floor. Gemma, ordered out of the way, had been happy to oblige.
Now she sat, laptop on the passenger seat, writing up what had just happened. Why had the boy been so terrified? There was an obvious answer: Donovan was screaming because the last time he’d seen his mother was when she’d tried to kill him.
Mothers who kill, Gemma thought, are not uncommon. She tried to put the shocking scene out of her mind while she noted down the main points of her discussion with Natalie. The ugly story of Findlay’s gift had reminded her of the existence of Bryson Finn’s first wife. The police would have visited her by now.
Gemma paused in her typing. She grabbed her mobile and pressed Angie’s number. ‘Donovan Finn recovered consciousness just a while ago. I watched what happened through the window in the door to his room. When he saw his mother coming towards him, he screamed. Hysterically.’
She registered Angie’s silent processing of the information.
‘What did Natalie say about it?’ Angie asked eventually.
‘I wasn’t able to ask her. I had to leave,’ said Gemma. ‘I didn’t get a chance once that happened. The medical people closed ranks.’
‘There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why a little boy who’s been in a coma for days might scream when he first wakes up. I’ll talk to the doctors,’ Angie said. ‘What was Natalie’s explanation for th
e missing time?’
Gemma told her, adding, ‘I’ll make an appointment to talk to Darren. And I want to find Jade too.’
Gemma was starting to get a very different picture of her old mentor. She was curious to find out what had fuelled Jade’s angry withdrawal from her mother, as well as her father. The two Finn children each had a story to tell; whatever Natalie Finn’s strengths might have been, her mothering capabilities were taking a denting. Jade Finn’s antisocial behaviour had started about two months ago, Gemma recalled, and made some quick calculations. Things were falling into place.
She pulled out the phone number she’d found tucked into Jade’s mirror in her bedroom and dialled Mike.
‘I need you to do something,’ she said. ‘Can you call this number for me and make an appointment?’
‘Sure. How are you feeling today?’ he asked. ‘After yesterday’s spill-over?’
‘A bit better. It’s still painful, but the acute stage is passing.’
‘Next time I see you, I want to talk to you about something.’
‘What?’ she asked, curious.
‘Not on the phone,’ he said. ‘So tell me, who am I making an appointment with?’
She told him.
‘For when?’
‘No time like the present. I’m going to grab something to eat.’
‘Okay. And then I call you?’
‘Yes. And then you go along to the rendezvous with me following. I want to know why Jade Finn has a sex worker’s mobile number in her bedroom.’
•
An hour later, as she sat in a Crows Nest café, Mike rang back. ‘I’ve got a date,’ he said. ‘Just the street number, not the apartment. She’ll give me that when I call from downstairs.’
She’ll be watching, Gemma thought, making sure her client comes alone. Sensible security precaution for a girl working alone in a flat. That, and a back exit.
Thirty minutes later, Gemma waited back up the road as Mike pressed the security buzzer at the front entrance of a small apartment building not far from where Gerda lived.
Mike turned to nod at her and Gemma slipped in after him before the door had a chance to close.
Up a flight of steps and onto the first-floor landing, where Gemma hung back while Mike knocked on the door.
Maddison Carr opened the door, wet hair caught up in a twisted towel. Gemma came forward. ‘Maddison,’ she said, brandishing her licence, ‘I need to talk to you.’
The girl tried to close the door, but Mike had already blocked it.
Maddison backed away. ‘Who are you? Are you the cops? I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘I’m not a cop. And neither is Mike. Here’s my card.’
‘I can’t believe this! A private investigator! My bloody father sent you?’ Maddison asked indignantly. ‘First he had the bloody cops onto me, now some sort of private detective.’
‘Yes,’ said Gemma. ‘Some sort of private detective. Can we sit down and talk about this in a reasonable way?’
‘You want me to stay?’ Mike asked.
‘Hey! This is my flat!’ Maddison’s face seemed even thinner than the previous time Gemma had seen her, only a couple of days before.
‘I think it might be better woman to woman,’ said Gemma.
‘There’s nothing I want to say to you,’ said the girl.
‘Call me if you need me,’ said Mike, walking away. As Maddison watched him, Gemma stepped inside quickly.
‘I’m not here to make any trouble for you,’ she said. ‘And I’ll leave if you insist. But I think you can help me. And before you say something like “Why should I?”, I’ll tell you why. I know where you live now and if you don’t want your father descending on you and driving you nuts, let’s do a deal.’
‘If I agree, you won’t tell him where I am?’ said the girl, unwinding the towel.
‘If you don’t want me to, no.’
‘No way. I’ve divorced him.’
‘That’s fine with me,’ said Gemma.
‘Okay,’ said the girl, closing the door behind them, making sure it was locked. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘I found your phone number in the bedroom of a runaway girl. Her name is Jade Finn. Her father’s been murdered. Her little brother’s in intensive care. Her mother’s a mess.’
Maddison’s eyes flickered.
‘Maddison, I need to find her, talk to her. She’s only a kid. If she won’t come home, at least I could take a message to her mother – that she’s okay.’
Maddison towelled her hair in silence for a moment, then she said, ‘I tried to tell her this was no place for her. I took pity on the poor kid. She’d been sneaking out late at night – switching off the fancy security system at her place – and coming to the Cross to hang with some schoolmates. We got talking one night and hit it off. She’s a nice kid.’ Maddison’s eyes softened. ‘She looks up to me. Thinks I’m all right.’ She threw her damp hair back over her shoulders. ‘She turned up and I said she could stay here – just for a few days till she got her head together.’
The sound of a key turning in the door behind them made them both turn around. Gemma watched as Jade Finn walked in, carrying a plastic bag of groceries. She stopped, startled, when she saw Gemma, looking in panic to Maddison.
‘Come in, Jade,’ said Gemma. It was a long time since she’d had a break like this. Jade stood near the door, poised to flee.
‘She says she only wants to talk to you,’ Maddison said.
‘I know who you are,’ said Jade, still looking as if she was about to bolt. ‘You were at my house. You and that red-headed cop. Talking to Mum. You’re the police!’
‘I’m not police,’ said Gemma. ‘I’m a private investigator. I’m working for your mother and she wants you to come home.’
‘What are you?’ said Maddison. ‘Some sort of kids bounty hunter? How much is my father paying you?’
‘Nothing, so far,’ said Gemma, noting that she’d need to add up the time she’d spent on this case and bill Dr Carr.
Jade walked straight past Gemma and plonked the shopping bag on the long coffee table. ‘Tell my mother I don’t want to go home. I hate living there.’ She resumed chewing the gum she’d put on hold while she spoke.
‘You can’t stay here,’ said Gemma. ‘You do know how Maddison supports herself?’
Jade looked from Maddison to Gemma, a slow pan.
‘So?’ she finally said, the chewing stopped for the moment. ‘You spy on people for money. What’s the difference?’
‘You want to end up a sex worker?’ Gemma asked. ‘Is that what you intend to do with your life?’
‘What should you care what I do with my life?’ Jade asked, her large brown eyes brimming, the skin of her face white under her freckles. ‘And what’s the matter with how Maddy supports herself? At least you know what you’re getting with workers.’ The words came out in a rush; justifications, Gemma felt sure, that the girl had gone over and over in her mind, and now had a chance to declaim. ‘How would you know what it feels like, to have your dad murdered? And your auntie? And your little brother –’ Her voice broke off in a sob. She swung round and ran through a doorway, turning back to blurt, ‘What would you know about anything like that?’
Gemma moved over to the doorway to see the girl standing in front of a dressing table, brushing her long hair with hard, furious strokes, glaring at herself in the mirror.
‘You might be surprised, Jade,’ said Gemma. ‘I do know a bit about that. My mother was murdered when I was five years old.’
The hairbrush stopped, mid-sweep, and Jade turned around. At first, her brown eyes widened, then narrowed under a frown. ‘You’re just saying that,’ she said.
‘It’s all documented,’ said Gemma. ‘I can show you the new
spaper cuttings and the court transcripts. In my case, it was my mother who was murdered and my father was charged and convicted. Many years later, I reopened the case to prove that he was innocent.’
The energy in the small room changed and Gemma fished one of her business cards out of her briefcase.
‘And was he?’
‘We’re not here to talk about my family,’ said Gemma. ‘I think it would be good if you came home with me. Now. Your family needs you right now.’
‘Maybe they do.’ She gave her long hair another firm brush and, looking directly into Gemma’s eyes in the mirror, said, ‘But I don’t need them.’
Still, she turned to take the proffered card. ‘I’m sorry about your mother. At least she wasn’t . . .’
‘Wasn’t what?’ Gemma urged.
‘Nothing,’ said Jade. She glanced down at the business card then slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans.
‘Maybe you don’t know,’ said Gemma, ‘that Donny came out of the coma.’
‘Donny? He’s going to be all right?’ All the girl’s bravado evaporated and in its place was an earnest, anxious big sister.
‘He seemed very alert,’ said Gemma, careful with her words. ‘I’m not a doctor, but when someone comes out of a comatose state, it’s generally considered to be an improvement.’
Gemma had the girl’s attention now so she pressed her advantage. She moved a little closer. ‘Jade, your mother says something happened a couple of months ago and you became – as she put it – a different person.’ She paused. ‘Your mother said that at one stage, she feared you might be using.’
‘That’s what parents always think,’ said Jade, her voice sharp with disdain. ‘It’s always got to be something like that. It never occurs to them that they might be the problem. That they might be the reason that their daughter becomes “different”. Or wants to run away.’
‘You had a terrible row with your father just before he left the house,’ Gemma said. ‘What was that about?’
Jade gave her a cool, appraising look. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘Come on! Of course you do! Something happened,’ said Gemma. ‘You found something out about your father, something that made you furious.’ She remembered the word Natalie had used about her husband’s demeanour: Bryson had been ‘cowering’ under his daughter’s onslaught.
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