‘Jacinta didn’t mention anything about a stepbrother.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me one little bit,’ he said. ‘She and Martin have never got on. She’s as jealous of him as she is of his father. Martin spends most of his time at boarding school in Sydney but he’s home for the summer. She’s probably reacting to all the attention he’s getting. It’s very common when a child loses a parent. They become overly attached to the remaining one, which makes future relationships tricky. I wonder how Clinton has put up with it so long.’
‘She said she couldn’t talk to you because you were a man.’
‘A lot of teenage girls are uncomfortable with a male doctor once they hit puberty. I always try to put them at ease but it’s been a matter of see me or see no one ever since Dr Cooper had his stroke.’
‘I’m not sure what to do about her,’ Holly said. ‘I suggested she come in and see me with her mother but she didn’t seem keen on the idea. I gave her my mobile number in case she changes her mind but I still feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.’
‘You did the right thing in giving her your number,’ he said. ‘If something untoward is going on it gives her a lifeline. You are aware of the proper channels to go through in order to investigate an allegation of abuse?’
‘Of course I am,’ she said a little tersely.
His gaze went to the map in her hands. ‘So where are you off to now?’
‘I’m doing a house call. I have some space between patients so I thought I’d call in on Betty Maynard.’
‘Noel’s mother?’ His dark brows met together.
She nodded. ‘I checked the records; she hasn’t been to a doctor for years, not even you.’
‘I visited her when I first came to town but she wasn’t keen on unannounced visitors. She pointed a gun at my face until I agreed to never call on her again. I wouldn’t go out there without a police escort. The only people she allows anywhere near the place are the Anglican pastor’s wife, who drops in her pension and groceries, and the delivery guy from the bottle shop, who keeps her stocked up on gin.’
Holly chewed her lip for a moment. ‘I was hoping to ask her about having some tests done.’
‘What sort of tests?’
‘I’ve been reading through Noel’s history. He was diagnosed with Wilson’s disease when he was eighteen and I wanted to check the family history.’
‘Wilson’s disease?’ Cameron’s frown increased. ‘That’s extraordinarily uncommon. Isn’t that almost unheard of in an indigenous person?’
‘Not completely unheard of. There’s one other known case. I checked Medline the other night. When he came to see me the other day he asked for a repeat prescription of penicillamine. He’s been on it for years, but he’d been without his medication for the last couple of months, since he’s been out of jail. I thought I’d better check his urinary copper levels. The test came back negative.’
‘Did you do a blood test? What is it now? Serum something or other, I’d have to look it up.’
‘Ceruloplasmin. It should be low. But he wouldn’t let me take blood,’ she said. ‘He was really aggressive about it.’
‘You should have told me. I asked if he had given you any trouble and you said no.’
‘I didn’t want to make a fuss. He obviously has some sort of phobic reaction about needles and blood so I thought it best to leave it for the time being.’
‘That must be a first, a murderer who can’t stand the sight of blood,’ he said dryly.
Holly waited until he brought his gaze back to hers. She let a two beat silence pass before she asked, ‘What if he isn’t the one who murdered Tina Shoreham?’
Cameron’s brows came together again. ‘What the hell are you saying?’
‘The records Dr Cooper took were sketchy. By today’s standards they wouldn’t be enough to confirm a diagnosis. You’ve admitted it yourself. Wilson’s disease is extremely rare in an indigenous person. What if it wasn’t Noel’s blood found under Tina’s fingernails? What if it was someone else’s, someone who for twenty-five years has got away with her murder?’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CAMERON took Holly’s arm and led her out of the sun into the shade of a gnarled peppercorn tree. He let her arm go once they were out of the range of the building.
‘I don’t think you should make those sort of speculations public,’ he warned. ‘There are people in town who would be outraged by you conducting some sort of campaign to clear Noel Maynard. He was tried by a court of law and found guilty.’
‘The law can be an ass, Cameron. What if the evidence was false? What if the doctor got it wrong?’
‘Come on, Holly, get real. Dr Cooper was a competent GP who ran this place on his own for thirty-odd years. He was well respected—still is well respected—even though he’s now paralysed by a stroke. If there was any mistake made, it’s up to the police to check it out. Besides, aren’t you forgetting something?’
‘What?’
‘Noel Maynard pleaded guilty to the murder.’
Holly lowered her gaze a fraction. So too had her cousin pleaded guilty but he still couldn’t recall a single event of that fateful night. The police had harangued him, as had his lawyer, insisting he would get off on a lighter sentence if he pleaded guilty. What if Noel had done the same?
‘I’d still like to run the tests to make sure he actually has the disease,’ she said, bringing her eyes back up to his.
‘Fine. But I insist you take someone with you when you call on Betty Maynard. I’ll put you in touch with Jean Curtis, the pastor’s wife. She can break the ice for you.’ He reached into his top pocket and, taking out a pen and a business card, scribbled a phone number on the back of it and handed it to her. ‘The rectory is a couple of blocks that way.’ He pointed to the end of the street. ‘Go and call on her now and introduce yourself. I’ll keep an eye on any patients for you until you get back.’
Holly waited until he was back inside the clinic before she started her car and drove it in the direction he’d pointed to. But as she pulled up in front of the rectory she changed her mind about doing as Cameron had advised. Instead she shifted gears and drove on until she found Baronga Bluff Road, and then the turn-off to Tolly’s Hill Lookout.
The Maynard cottage was as Sally had described it. Holly tried not to judge it by her father’s Bellevue Hill mansion or her mother and stepfather’s Point Piper palace-like terrace, but it was still hard to imagine anyone living here for years on end and, what was more, alone. She parked the car beneath a scraggy gum tree and waited for a sign of anyone moving about. After a few minutes a frail figure appeared at one of the windows.
Holly got out of her car and began to walk towards the house but just as she was about to knock at the door it opened and an elderly woman peered at her through yellowed eyes, a shotgun under one arm.
‘What do you want?’
Holly tried to ignore the gun, mentally reassuring herself that it couldn’t possibly be loaded. There were strict controls on gun ownership these days and without a supply of bullets she couldn’t imagine Noel’s mother using it as anything more than a warning to keep strangers away.
‘Hello, Mrs Maynard; my name is Dr Holly Saxby. I’m your son’s GP. Is he home at present?’
The old woman shook her head. ‘He went to town a while back.’
‘How long do you think he might be?’
‘Half an hour, maybe more.’
‘Do you mind if I wait for him here?’ she asked.
Betty Maynard’s hands trembled on the gun. After a moment or two she put it to one side near the door, shuffled out to the lean-to veranda and indicated for Holly to take one of two old chairs.
Holly sat down gingerly, hoping her Lisa Ho skirt would forgive her for the rough surface. She smiled at the old woman and patted the seat beside her. ‘Won’t you join me?’
After a small hesitation Betty sat down and stared straight ahead.
‘It must be lonely living way o
ut here,’ Holly said, filling the uncomfortable silence.
‘I don’t need people.’
She let another long silence pass. The smell of alcohol was apparent but not quite as apparent as the pungent odour of unwashed skin and hair.
‘Noel said you saw him the other day,’ the old woman said.
‘Yes…I wanted to run some more tests on him.’
‘He don’t need no more tests done,’ Betty said. ‘He’s got what he’s got and there’s no changing it.’
‘Is there a family history of Wilson’s disease?’ Holly asked. ‘Any other relatives with the same problem?’
‘Wouldn’t know…I haven’t seen any family in a long time. Not even my daughter, Nell. She took off when Noel was arrested.’
‘Have you heard from her lately?’
The old woman shook her head sadly. ‘She don’t like people to know her brother was charged with murder.’
‘You don’t think he did it, do you?’ Holly asked after another long silence.
‘No mother would think her son would do that…but they found his blood on her. He told them he did it.’
‘But you still believe he’s innocent.’
Betty kept looking into the distance. ‘Why would he kill anyone…kill her? She was his friend. Used to come here to visit him. She was trying to help him with his school work. He weren’t much good at learning.’
‘She came here?’
‘Yeah…lots of times.’
‘Did her parents know she came to visit Noel?’
‘They found out about it. Put a stop to it,’ Betty said. ‘The day she was killed was the first time she’d come in ages. She must have sneaked out without them knowing.’
Holly felt a shiver pass over her. The poor girl had disobeyed her parents and paid for it with her life. How many teenage girls did the same thing every day? She’d done it herself.
‘Mrs Maynard, would you agree to have a blood test? I know you haven’t been to a doctor in a long time but I’d like to test you for Wilson’s disease.’
‘Why?’
‘If your son has Wilson’s disease he must have inherited it from you and his father. It’s inherited; both parents have to have it or at least carry the disease if they don’t actually have it. A test will tell us if you’re a carrier.’
The old woman appeared to give it some thought. Holly waited patiently, wondering if her quest was going to be successful, when the sound of a bicycle’s tyres could be heard crunching over the gravel. She looked up to see Noel pedalling towards them with a bundle of kindling sticks propped under one arm.
He dropped the sticks by the veranda and dusted off his hands, his eyes avoiding hers as he mumbled an almost inaudible greeting. Holly’s eyes went to his forearm where one of the sticks had scratched him, the blood already starting to ooze down to his wrist.
‘You’ve cut yourself,’ she said. ‘I’ll get my doctor’s bag and tidy it up for you.’
Holly had only taken one step when he looked down at his arm and began to sway on his feet. She watched in alarm as he went as white as anyone with his heritage could go, his legs refusing to hold him upright.
She grabbed him before he fell, pushing his head between his knees and instructing him to take some deep, even breaths.
‘That’s right,’ she said as he got control. ‘Nice and deep and even.’
Once she was sure he wasn’t going to pass out she left him, dashed to her car and brought her bag back to the veranda. She dressed the wound after applying some betadine, placing the gauze swabs she’d used in a sterile container which she put into her bag.
She straightened. ‘There. That should heal in no time. Leave the dressing on for a day or two and try not to get it wet.’
‘Thanks,’ Noel mumbled without looking at her.
Holly glanced towards her doctor’s bag. She couldn’t request a genetic test without the patient’s permission and she didn’t have any paperwork with her.
‘Noel—’ she turned back to look at him ‘—would you mind if I came back later with a couple of forms for you to sign? I know you don’t want to have a blood test done but the swabs I just used could be enough to trace the genetic abnormality for your Wilson’s disease.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ he asked.
‘I got the results back from your urine test,’ she said. ‘They weren’t what I was expecting.’
He looked up at her at that. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You said you had been without your medication for two months, right?’
‘Yeah…’ He lowered his gaze to the dusty floorboards on the veranda. ‘The prison doctor gave me a prescription but I lost it. I thought I’d wait until I got settled back here to get a new one.’
‘A person with Wilson’s disease without penicillamine or some other treatment, for that long, should have high levels of copper in their urine. Your tests results came back normal.’
His eyes came back to hers. ‘Normal. What does that mean?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she said, unwilling to commit herself without proof. ‘A genetic test could confirm things one way or the other.’
‘Are you saying I might not have copper disease?’
‘A genetic test could find out for sure.’
His eyes moved away from hers. ‘I didn’t kill her.’
Holly listened to the sound of the wind moving through the gum trees as she struggled to find something to say. She wanted to believe him but she couldn’t be sure if that was because she genuinely thought him incapable of such a crime or whether she was too emotionally involved because of her cousin Aaron.
‘Do you remember what happened…that afternoon?’ she asked.
He pushed a dead insect away with his foot. ‘She came to visit. Rode her bike all the way from town. I told her she shouldn’t have come. Her old man was threatening to send her to boarding school if she didn’t stay away from me.’
‘But she still came to see you.’
He nodded, his expression heart-wrenchingly sad. ‘It would have been better for her to go to boarding school…’
‘What else did you say to her when she came?’
‘Not much…I just walked her back to where she’d left her bike and watched her ride off through the bush.’
‘You didn’t follow her?’
‘No…I didn’t have shoes on. Anyway, I didn’t want anyone to see me with her, in case her old man got wind of it.’
‘And that was the last time you saw her?’
‘No…’ He stared fixedly at the line in the dust he’d scored with his foot. ‘The police showed me photos…’
‘You must have found that very upsetting.’
He looked at her once more, the pain in his eyes so stark that Holly felt as if she could feel it reaching out to touch her.
He looked away again. ‘That’s why I confessed.’
‘The photos? You confessed because of those?’
‘I couldn’t look at them over and over…They thought I was guilty—kept shoving them under my nose…If I just confessed it would stop them doing it…I didn’t care what jail would be like. Better place than here once Tina was dead.’
‘But Noel, if you didn’t kill her, do you have any idea who did do it?’
He shook his head. ‘Thought about that a lot the years I was inside. Tina was popular with everyone. Couple of her friends didn’t want her spending time with me, but she didn’t have any enemies.’
Holly tried to take it all in. It seemed so surreal. Here she was sitting next to a man who had spent twenty-five years in jail for a murder he now said he didn’t commit.
He could be lying, a little voice said. Maybe, another voice said. But if he isn’t, that means that the person who did kill Tina Shoreham is still at large, maybe still living in Baronga Beach.
Holly almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand touch her on the arm. Betty Maynard gave her an almost toothless smile and offered her arm. ‘You can do that blood te
st if you want.’
Holly gave her a warm smile. ‘Thank you, Mrs Maynard. I’ll try and be as gentle as I can but I think we should go inside so Noel doesn’t have to watch.’
Holly drove down the road a short time later, glancing worriedly at her car clock. She’d lost track of time and was now over an hour late.
She pulled into the clinic driveway and was just about to enter the building when a man approached her with quick but purposeful strides.
‘Dr Saxby?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m Clinton Jensen and I’d like a word with you.’
Holly didn’t care for his forceful and unfriendly tone. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Jensen, but I’m already running late for the clinic. If you’d like to make an appointment, perhaps I could squeeze you in later this afternoon.’
‘I don’t think you heard me correctly, Dr Saxby. I insist on seeing you now.’
Holly straightened to her full height in heels which, to her immense satisfaction, brought her about two inches above him. ‘What is this about, Mr Jensen?’
‘I wish to discuss with you the matter of your conversation with my stepdaughter yesterday.’
Holly wasn’t sure how to respond. Although he was her stepfather, what she had discussed with Jacinta was not for his ears, but her mother’s.
‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘My stepdaughter is a difficult child. I am aware of her tendency to exaggerate certain details. She does it to get attention. Her mother and I are doing our best to keep her on the straight and narrow but she resists all our efforts. She is wilful and disobedient and her coming to see you without our permission only goes to prove it.’
‘Surely a girl of fifteen has the right to consult a doctor on her own?’
‘Perhaps, but what is discussed during that consultation should be revealed to her legal guardians.’
The ethics of Jensen’s point was not so clear-cut—a lot depended on the maturity of the child and what the child had brought up in discussion.
‘Why don’t you, Mrs Jensen and Jacinta make an appointment with the receptionist and come in and discuss this in the privacy of my consulting room?’ she suggested.
A Doctor Beyond Compare Page 12
