by LM Ardor
The death of Tom wasn’t the same clear, honourable sorrow. It was messy, wrong, unjust. For the first time she understood the grief of those left behind after a murder, those people who stood outside the court to rail against the limited sentences of the killers. This grief didn’t honour Tom’s memory.
After five minutes Dee noticed her face was wet. She grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped the tears that had run down her cheeks. Secreting bodily fluids wasn’t going to make anyone’s life better, nor would it get justice for Tom. Her face must look terrible. She took out two eye pads, wet them and sat, head back against the chair, to let the cool water soothe her eyelids.
The head of a black-haired bear was mounted on the wall above her like a trophy. Between his huge white boar-like teeth, he held a small mammal. He snarled and tossed his head about as the creature tried to escape. Saliva splattered from his mouth. Dee realised the animal in his jaws was her childhood pet Tigger. It was her task to rescue him.
The eye pads fell onto her lap as she tried to stand up. How long had she been asleep? The dream was ridiculous. Last night she’d given into relentless nagging by Oliver and allowed the kids to watch Borat. The image from the movie of a bear’s head on a plate in the fridge had stuck in her head. The urge to rescue Tigger stayed with her.
She checked the computer. The last two patients had cancelled. All she had to do was the mail and she could go home for four full days.
The pile of specialist letters, drug company advertising and requests for reports was about half as big as normal. Everyone else, specialists and lawyers, even drug companies, had extended holidays over Christmas.
She stopped. What a bitter, boring person she’d been lately. She’d tried hard not to let the Tom stuff get to her but everything was tainted by the injustice of it. How could she turn less paperwork and a four-day holiday coming up into something to be resentful about?
She had to be more positive. The living—her kids, her patients and even herself—would be better off if she found a way to get over it, to get on with the living world. She stretched her slumped shoulders and looked at the photo of the kids on the desk. That always cheered her up. The snapshot was taken at Dee Why the last time they all went out on a family outing—before Rob lobbed the hand grenade of Stephanie into their lives almost three years ago. Dee hadn’t been to the beach with the children since.
It was almost Christmas. She had a whole four days off. It was time she made time for fun with the soon-to-be grown-up people who were still her children.
She returned to the correspondence. The promotional material for drugs went straight into the recycling. A couple of letters went to the pile to scan into patient files. The last was a plain hand-addressed envelope. Janelle hadn’t opened it. Anything that could be personal she left intact for Dee.
Dee was cautious. Personal mail was uncommon. It carried an emotional charge—sometimes good; often if it had been sent to her at work, bad. She took a deep breath and inserted the letter opener into the slot under the flap.
She unfolded several sheets of paper printed on pathology letterhead. There was a handwritten note from Heinrich clipped to the front.
‘Final results for Tom Harris. The conclusion, death from asthma, is unchanged. I’ll add them to my report on my return in January. Thought you’d like to know. Heinrich.’
The supplementary pathology was complete. Dee scanned to the end.
High levels of acute phase antibodies to echinacea, other acute inflammatory mediators including eosinophils and histamines were found. Death was due to asthma secondary to a massive allergic reaction to echinacea purpura, the common purple cone flower—currently in bloom locally.
The yellow powder from the flat had been confirmed as echinacea by the Sydney University Department of Plant Biology. It fitted.
Dee went back and read carefully through the whole document. The test for prednisone was negative. That wasn’t possible. Tom knew what to do. He’d have rung triple-O and started prednisone immediately.
No coroner’s enquiry. No further investigation by the police. No one to stand up for Tom.
Now she had to go home and trim the Christmas tree with the kids. She had to be happy.
25.
On Christmas morning Dee woke up with Tom still in her mind. Voices came from the lounge room. Oliver and Eleanor sounded as though they were arguing about how to wrap a present but then the sounds changed to laughter. She could smell coffee and something frying.
Seven o’clock. It was time to get up, put a brave face on. Today she owed to the living. She rummaged around in her drawers for eyeliner and lipstick and put on her slinky green opera dress with red mirror-ball earrings from the two-dollar shop. There was an old eye shadow in bright green she added at the last minute.
Beatrice had French toast and blueberries ready on the table when she walked into the kitchen. Oliver handed her an espresso.
‘Happy Christmas.’
*
Rob and Stephanie arrived around mid-morning. The Glasshouse was still Rob’s home—every annoying part of it an expression of his design aesthetic but the promise that he and Stephanie would do everything today helped her focus on the better parts of him.
The new wife worked at pleasing Dee. Dee was host but free of cooking and serving. Stephanie was probably happy to be relieved of the twins for a few hours. All three children were willing assistants. Dee was slightly jealous.
Raj arrived at eleven.
It was the first family gathering he was invited to, the first time he had spent time with her children. Dee had negotiated strict instructions that he could bring champagne and chocolates and a small present each for the children—nothing else. He made several trips from a taxi to the front door with a large esky and three cardboard boxes.
‘Hi Raj,’ Dee said as she brushed his cheek with her lips. ‘I thought we agreed only champagne and chocolates?’
‘Yes?’ he said and carried more cargo in from the front door.
He opened the esky to reveal a dozen bottles of Veuve Clicquot on ice. From the boxes he produced two silver ice buckets, champagne flutes, two platters of Belle Fleur chocolates and armfuls of Christmas bush.
‘Thanks,’ said Dee, ‘how could I doubt you?’
‘Thank you for inviting me.’ He stopped to gaze at her. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘Um, thanks’ was all she could manage.
She looked around. No one was close enough to hear. She bustled off to get vases for the flowers so he couldn’t see the flush at the base of her neck.
The turkey still had a couple of hours to cook when Raj arrived so he and Rob and Dee sat together on the deck with the six-month-old twins. Raj poured champagne, and produced a bowl of Balmain bugs and melted garlic butter for dipping.
He cracked and peeled a bug for her and presented it on a Chinese spoon. She frowned, ready to say ‘Didn’t I say nothing else?’ but instead opened her mouth to accept the bug. It was perfect, sweet tender meat, salty and garlicy.
‘Delicious.’
Raj kept their glasses topped up. Dee switched to mineral water after her first glass disappeared in a couple of gulps. Any more and all the emotions she was hiding might flood out through her eyes.
Raj made it harder to forget about Tom. She wanted to tell him about the final results but there wasn’t much point. No one else deserved to suffer because of her misery.
The children were mostly with Stephanie in the kitchen. She was breastfeeding so no booze but she seemed relaxed. Rob was good with the babies, better than with his first brood. With twins there was little choice. Stephanie breastfed one while Rob topped up the other with solids. They swapped babies for a repeat performance then Stephanie escaped back to the kitchen.
Rob was left with a baby on each knee.
Dee was tempted to help but she didn’t want to fuss over the babies, didn’t want to rescue Rob. Her own children needed more than they got of her. How often did they have a full day t
ogether without all sorts of busyness?
She got up and went to the kitchen. Stephanie was carving while Beatrice set the table. Oliver had his head in a cupboard in search of a gravy boat. The children treated Stephanie like a friend. There weren’t so many years between them.
No Eleanor though. Dee walked to the back of the house. Eleanor’s door was open. Her room was empty. No one was in the bathroom.
Dee went outside onto the back walkway. No one was there but the last of the three garbage bins was askew. She looked closer. The toes of pink sneakers projected between the bins.
Ellie was in her favourite childhood hiding place, headphones on and her elderly teddy bear, Growly, on her lap. Dee moved the last bin and sat beside her.
Eleanor didn’t respond. Dee gently took the headphones off her ears.
‘What are you doing out here? Are you okay?’
Ellie shook her head no.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s up?’ Dee said as she cuddled her sensitive third child.
‘Is Raj your boyfriend?’
‘No. He’s just a friend. Is that all right?’
‘Are you going to get a boyfriend?’
‘I might one day. What do you think about that?’
‘What happens to us then?’
‘Nothing happens to you. I’m your mother and I always will be. Do you think I’ll run off with someone and not care about you?’
Ellie nodded. ‘Dad did.’
Dee waited a few beats.
‘I won’t. I promise. And your dad still loves you.’
‘He left though.’
There wasn’t much Dee could say to argue with that. Those were her own thoughts, when she let them into consciousness. It would be so easy to be bitter, to hate Rob for his betrayal. Out here next to the bins with Eleanor she had the luxury of unfiltered feelings. Why did she have to go in and be a grown-up?
There was an urgent cry from a baby, then two together. She turned her head. Rob was up, a twin in each arm, both screaming at him. She smiled; it served him right. She turned back to Eleanor.
‘Dad knew I’d be here. And I always will be. You’ll have to leave me.’
Dee pulled Eleanor up with her and assembled her social face. They went inside. Stephanie roped in Ellie to finish decorating the table.
When she returned to the deck, Rob and Raj had a baby each. Raj held the girl expertly in the crook of his arm. She was sound asleep. Where had he learnt that?
26.
Work was quieter than usual between Christmas and New Year. Dee rang Glebe Police Station to speak to Marlena.
‘Yes, I remember,’ Marlena said, ‘but isn’t the case closed? Hang on a minute.’ Dee could hear a keyboard clacking. ‘Yes, it says here no suspicious circumstances, death due to acute asthma, case closed.’
‘Marlena, I know the boy. He wouldn’t let himself die of asthma. I’d stake my life on it, and not suicide either. There’s something going on here. Is there anything you can do to find out more?’
‘Not easily. No one can trawl through other cases without a reason. It’s difficult enough being a woman, not to mention an Asian woman, in the force. There are plenty of blokes who’d be happy to report me if I get something wrong,’ Marlena said quietly.
Dee waited.
Finally Marlena sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll talk to whoever’s working on it and I’ll get back to you.’
They exchanged mobile numbers.
*
Marlena rang the following afternoon while Dee was busy. Dee rang back later but got Marlena’s voicemail. To cut through the telephone tag, Dee sent a text. ‘Can we meet at Gallon after work? I’m flexible, any time from 6.30 on.’
Dee walked the 750 metres to the Pyrmont end of Harris street, not sure if she really wanted to hear what Marlena had for her.
What appeared to be a tiny bar with sandstone walls expanded Tardis-like as you entered. There was a general convivial buzz from the several saloons at the front but, beyond the big open courtyard, the back bar was quieter. The detective wasn’t there yet so Dee sent her a text. ‘Out the back. Red, white or beer?’
By the time Marlena arrived two generous glasses of Swan Bay Shiraz were lined up and plates of crushed and fried potatoes and a Caprese salad had just landed on the table.
‘Thanks, Marlena. I thought it was better to be away from the station, and you do live near here, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, next block, 205. You’ve got a good memory.’
‘Well I knew it was somewhere near your mum … but first things first, we probably both could do with a drink.’ Dee picked up her glass. The diminutive Marlena managed to climb up onto the stool and clinked glasses with her.
‘I’m sorry—’ Dee started but Marlena interrupted.
‘Don’t apologise, I understand; it does all sound dodgy but there are procedures and, no matter how much I want to help, there’s some stuff I can’t do.’
‘I know but I don’t know where else to turn. Please forget I know your mother, you know this makes no difference to that relationship. It’s not only about justice for Tom; I’m worried about his girlfriend. She could be in real danger.’
Dee hated the feeling that she was exploiting her connection with Marlena’s mother.
Marlena reached over to pat Dee across the shoulders. Dee must have sounded on the edge of panic. All she could think of to say was sorry but she didn’t want to start apologising again and sound even more out of control.
‘Thanks.’ Dee tried to sound matter-of-fact. ‘How’s the investigation going?’
Surely if there was real news Marlena would have come out with it straight away? All the same Dee could feel her heart bashing against the inside of her chest.
‘The final pathology report is in so it’s case closed.’
‘But what about the sedatives? That’s absolutely out of character for Tom. And the finding that there was no prednisone in his blood. The first thing Tom would do in an asthma attack would be to take prednisone. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Half of our overdose cases have relatives claiming there was no way they’d take drugs. The sedatives could explain why he didn’t try to help himself. There’s not enough to build a case on in the face of a finding of natural causes. The detective handling the case is a Constable—’
‘Craig? Looks like a real estate agent?’ Dee asked.
‘That’s the one, Craig Mason. Not a font of sympathy or understanding—doesn’t notice women unless they’re potential conquests. He’s a bit green but keen for promotion. For him it’s all wrapped up, cut and dried. It wouldn’t do him any good to keep the case open. A closed case is a result, a success for him.’ Marlena paused.
‘Craig said he checked on the mother’s partner and that he had some past convictions,’ Dee said. ‘He’s got a motive and a record.’
‘There’s no crime though, we’ve got no reason to follow up anything now.’
Marlena sounded gentle but Dee couldn’t let it go. She pushed on.
‘What about the girlfriend? What about the insurance? What about Tom’s investigation? He hacked GenSafe and claimed to have evidence their clients were being charged tens of thousands of dollars and the payments were being sent offshore. He told his girlfriend it was too dangerous to stay at his flat and now he’s dead and no one knows where the girlfriend is. Isn’t anyone worried about what’s happened to her? If there’s foul play she could be the next victim. Did you find out about Glen’s record?’
Marlena looked around them. ‘You didn’t hear this from me. Glen Sturrock has several convictions for possession of marijuana and one for heroin, all personal use quantities. Only one conviction for violence. Glen attacked his half-brother. Got a community service order and suspended twelve-month sentence for assault. That’s all Craig had recorded. I can’t access anymore.’
‘Maybe there’s some public record I can access?’
‘Local court records or newspapers if it got that much attention. I c
an sneak a look again to find the place and date. I’ll text you the info.’ Marlena picked up her glass and took a long sip. ‘Shame he’s not a terror suspect, no holds barred then.’
They both laughed. Dee wasn’t ready to let it go though.
‘What about the clinic? Can the police check that out?’
Marlena put down her drink and raised both palms. ‘Dee, it’s over. The official position is that the death was natural causes. That makes it easier for everyone. I don’t think it’s likely that anything else happened but I do know you and I trust you, and you knew the vic so I have some sympathy. You have to accept that nothing more’s going to happen though unless some other evidence comes up. Every query in the computer is logged so there would have to be a reason to justify my looking up anything more.’
Dee knew she couldn’t ask Marlena for more. It would probably have been better to go straight to Craig and leave Marlena as someone she could approach if it all went wrong. Too late now. Their wine glasses were empty and the potatoes cold, the salad untouched.
‘I’m going to have a coffee. You can drink; what about another one of these?’ Dee held the stem of the empty glass of red with two fingers.
‘No. Thanks though. I’ve got an Asian capacity for alcohol. More than one drink and I’ll be joining you in an investigation to right all the wrongs of the world.’ Marlena stood up. She was even shorter when she was standing.
‘The kids are at their father’s. I’m going to stay and make this dinner,’ Dee said.
The truth was Dee wasn’t ready to go. Going felt like giving up.
Marlena put her hand on Dee’s shoulder. ‘You know we don’t win every time. Sometimes we have to let go and get on with the possible.’
