Fatal Impact (12 page)

19

A
nya returned to her mother’s house. There was nothing she could do for Len Dengate now. The health inspectors were interviewing him and taking samples as per their protocols. As sad as it was for Len’s business, Emily and the elderly man had died, and numerous others, including her father’s cousin, were seriously ill. The infection may have been found in the spinach, but the original source still needed to be identified, and they needed to find out whether it was resistant to washing. The potential illness it could cause if uncontrolled was of epidemic proportions.

Inside the house, Anya smelt eggs cooking. Her mother was dressed and at the stove.

‘Want some?’ She stirred the pan. ‘No bread, so thought I’d just scramble eggs. There’s plenty if you grab a couple of plates.’ She gestured towards the cupboard.

Anya obliged, surprised there was no hint of yesterday’s argument, and no mention of where Jocelyn had been in the night.

With a wooden spoon, Jocelyn shovelled the eggs onto respective plates. ‘Good thing about keeping chickens, you always have food.’

Anya carried the plates to the table.

Jocelyn plonked the pan in the sink and brought the salt and pepper shakers with knives and forks. ‘I’ll get some groceries later.’

Anya assumed she hadn’t heard anything about Livelonger yet. Soon it would be all over the area and in all the media.

‘I need to talk to you about Len.’

Jocelyn had a mouth full of eggs and managed, ‘Good idea. There are things about him you should know before you judge him. He was different before his fiancée died.’

Anya was curious now. ‘What happened?’

‘Patsy Gallop was a researcher at the Tasmanian Institute of Agricultural Advancement.’

The name and story registered. ‘The Gallop murder?’ Anya remembered the case. A colleague had murdered Patsy Gallop, supposedly in a jealous rage. Dr Reuben Millard was convicted. The case had made national headlines. It didn’t escape Anya that Len had mentioned that name just this morning. Reuben. He’d said, ‘they’, whoever ‘they’ were, had set him up. He hadn’t mentioned Patsy.

‘Did his behaviour change after she died? It must have been a horrible time.’

Jocelyn put down her fork and took two mugs from a stand beside the sink. ‘If you’re suggesting for one moment he’s mentally ill, you’re wrong. He is a clever businessman and a true friend. There’s nothing wrong with that mind.’

Her mother really seemed adamant that Len was fine, despite the incident with the shotgun the day before.

It was now or never. ‘You’re going to hear about it soon. Evelyn and the little girl who died were infected with an unusual strain of bacteria.’ Anya swallowed. ‘One of the sources has been confirmed. The infection came from Livelonger Organics.’

Her mother paused, leaning forward against the sink.

‘That place is immaculate. He’s put everything he owns into it. Everything Patsy had too.’ She turned around. ‘Does he know yet?’

Anya nodded. ‘The health inspectors are there now.
A policeman was with them. I think his name is Hammond.’

‘Simon’s a good man. He should keep Len calm. I’d better go, before he does something that will get him into bigger trouble.’

‘Mum, please wait. Len seems to have some .
. .’
She tried to find a diplomatic way of mentioning Len’s delusions, ‘. .
.
fixed beliefs about someone inventing the E. coli and the child’s death, just to set him up.’

Jocelyn stopped. ‘Fixed beliefs depend a lot on your concept of truth. One situation can be seen in multiple ways, from any number of viewpoints. Every person’s truth is real for them, and equally valid. Like I said, don’t judge him.’

Anya couldn’t understand why her mother was being so cryptic. She touched her mother’s arm. ‘He said that “they” had got to him. And that you were next.’

Jocelyn pulled away. ‘I need to go to him.’

‘Mum, do you know what he meant? Was he threatening you?’

Her mother wasn’t listening. She headed down to her room and grabbed her bag. Anya was right behind.

‘Please listen. He didn’t sound rational.’

Jocelyn pulled open the front door. ‘His livelihood has just been ruined. If what you say is true, he’s lost everything. How do you expect a man to sound?’

She slammed the door behind her.

Anya had finished another load of washing when Jocelyn returned two hours later.

‘Grab your things,’ she announced. ‘We’re going out.’

‘Wait,’ Anya said. ‘What happened with Len? Will he be all right?’

‘That’s what I want to find out.’

Anya slipped on her shoes at the front door. ‘Where are we going?’

‘For pizza.’ Jocelyn was already outside.

They drove in silence on the way into town and stopped in the main street outside the Longford antiques shop. They headed to the back of a long brick building. The Convict’s Delight was a restaurant. A waitress who was on first name terms with Jocelyn greeted them before the maître d’. She crossed off what appeared to be a reservation.

The waitress chatted as she led them to a table by the wall. For lunchtime, the place was surprisingly quiet. A drinks waiter polished wine glasses. A sliding partition door closed
off a section of the restaurant and bore a sign that read
Private
Function
.

Anya glanced around at the decor. Exposed beams featured above polished wooden tables, highlighting the lemon brick walls. Flickering candles added to the feel of a centuries-old English inn. They could have been in the New Forest near Southampton, in almost any time in the last hundred and fifty years. It was one of the things she liked most about Tasmania. Parts resembled England, others Scotland and Ireland, while others could have been New Zealand, or a European snowfield. All on one small island.

‘These walls don’t have ears,’ Jocelyn said. ‘Six bricks thick.’

Anya looked around. On closer examination, she could see fingerprints and what looked like a convict arrow on one brick, then another.

Jocelyn ordered a lemon, lime and bitters for herself. Anya requested a glass of pinot gris. Like a house mouse, the waitress was gone.

‘The bricks were all hand-made by convicts. Every nail in these tables, as well.’ Jocelyn was a font of information on the area. ‘People take history for granted these days, but it’s what makes us who we are. You can’t just sweep it away. You of all people should appreciate that.’

Anya wondered what point her mother was making. Jocelyn still had the grey-blue eyes, but her cheeks were sunken and the bags under her eyes had become increasingly puffy. ‘Mum, I need to talk about yesterday. I cut my heel on the security door and was only looking for a Band-Aid. That’s why I went into your bathroom.’ She expected a resurgence of Jocelyn’s anger at the invasion of privacy.

‘Were there any in there?’

‘Yes. Next to the bottle of Thyroxin .
. .’
She waited for a response.

Jocelyn was distracted by something at the entrance. The maître d’ was overly effusive in greeting two men who stood with their backs to Anya’s table.

The waitress returned with their drinks, whispering, ‘The high and mighty are here. We had to get out the good silver.’

‘Be careful they don’t steal it,’ Jocelyn replied, po-faced.

The waitress smirked. ‘Never can trust politicians. I’ll be right back for your order. Anything with spinach, like the Moroccan lamb pizza, is off the menu for now.’

The Livelonger recall had already affected restaurants.

The two men laughing with the maître d’ turned and Anya recognised both faces. ‘Isn’t that Christian Moss and his assistant?’

Jocelyn squinted. ‘How would you know them?’

‘I met them in Hobart at the conference. Moss wanted to talk about a new GPS monitoring system for domestic violence offenders. His assistant’s name is .
. .’
She searched in her bag before coming up with his card. ‘Ryan Chapman.’

The waitress reappeared and Jocelyn ordered a Wagyu beef and marinated tiger prawn pizza with asparagus. Anya opted for spicy lamb and vegetables on a garlic pizza base, garnished with yoghurt, mint and lemon.

‘Moss calls himself Mr Progress.’ Jocelyn took a sip of her drink. ‘More like Mr Sellout. Our state Minister for Agriculture, Community Services and Policing, Planning and Employment. No conflict of interest there. A real man of the people – that is, if you’re big business or a multinational wanting to own the state. That assistant must be extremely good at damage control. Every scandal just seems to glide right off the great Christian Moss.’

‘So tell me what you really think of him.’ Anya grinned and tasted her wine.

‘Progress is a misnomer. He’s approved the sale of four hundred acres at Emerald Vale to a Chinese consortium, or in other words, the Chinese government. Some choice. Farmers have to sell up or face financial ruin.’

Anya wondered why it hadn’t made big news. ‘How is it possible anyone from overseas could buy so much land?’

‘The federal government allows sales of up to $320 million to avoid review by the Foreign Investment Committee and public attention. Anything less than that goes straight through. That means foreign interests could buy the whole state, providing the vendors break it up into smaller parcels for sale. Up to $319 million if they want.’ She took another sip of her drink. ‘It’s reprehensible.’

Anya saw Moss weave his way across the room to them. He had a suit and shirt on, minus a tie today. ‘Dr Reynolds, so good to see you again.’ He turned to Anya and extended his hand. ‘Dr Crichton. I had no idea you two knew each other.’

Jocelyn refused to make eye contact. ‘Christian, this is my daughter.’

A well-groomed eyebrow raised slightly despite the fluorescent smile. ‘I didn’t make the connection. Dr Crichton, I am more than keen to discuss the GPS initiatives you talked about. My chief of staff will set up the meeting.’

The waitress reappeared. ‘Your table is ready, Minister, and your other guests have arrived.’

‘We should get together and talk over a meal some time. Enjoy your lunch. If you’ll excuse me.’

He left but turned back. ‘Oh. Not sure if you’ve heard, but Len Dengate’s involved in this terrible fatal infection outbreak. The department of health has instigated a product recall for Livelonger Organics and shut him down. Ironic, given he has been so vocal about the benefits of chemical-free food.’

Anya noticed her mother’s cheeks redden. ‘It’s a shock all right. All these farms using toxic chemicals and Len Dengate’s is the only one investigated for a problem.’

The minister looked solemn. ‘I came as soon as I heard the news. We’re having a crisis meeting right now, in fact. We have to work out a way of managing this travesty. It could affect tourism, exports and countless other industries.’

Jocelyn’s jaw tightened. ‘The investigation is in progress. From what I hear, not all the cases can be attributed to Len’s farm. You could be facing far wider contamination. If I were you, I’d be considering that before burying Len’s business. And as the Minister for Police as well, shouldn’t your priority be to find the missing child and her mother?’

‘I’ve got the best teams working on it.’ His face gave nothing away. ‘Why, I’m informed even your daughter is providing valuable assistance with the investigation.’

Chapman, wearing a suit and tie, greeted them all before asking for a word with his boss.

‘If you’ll excuse us.’ The men were suddenly involved in quiet conversation as they headed back to the bar.

‘Arrogant pig,’ Jocelyn blurted, a little too soon for Anya’s liking. The politician could have heard. ‘How dare he suggest you played a role in bringing Len down.’ Her voice became louder.

‘I went to the house to speak to the mother, and saw the blood at the scene. That’s how Emily’s body was found, and why I attended the post-mortem. I had nothing to do with tracking the source of the infection. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.’ Anya spoke quietly as she watched the men enter the private room. ‘You and Moss obviously have some kind of history.’

‘I was on a health committee with him a couple of years ago. We didn’t agree on much.’

Anya didn’t know many people who agreed with all her mother’s views.

Glenn Lingard entered the restaurant, in a crisp shirt and dress trousers. Ryan Chapman emerged from the private function and ushered him over. Anya wondered why Glenn would be attending a crisis meeting dealing with a bacterial outbreak.

Jocelyn continued to vent and didn’t seem to notice.

‘Why would Moss care about the region’s reputation, when he’s sold most of it to overseas interests?’

She was obviously very close to Len and the business but Anya wanted them to enjoy a meal together, without making a scene. A factual discussion would be more prudent right now, even though what her mother was saying sounded a little far-fetched.

‘What do the Chinese want with the land?’

‘To secure a food supply for the future, for their citizens.’

Anya had read of the Chinese government buying up land in Scandinavia, but that was to store grain in underground silos. There were rumours about them doing the same on arid land in the centre of Australia.

‘Who would sell incredibly fertile land that’s likely to have been in families for generations?’

‘Who wouldn’t is a better question.’

The pizzas arrived and smelt flavoursome. Both women picked up their knives and forks to eat. Anya realised she and her mother had always eaten pizza with cutlery. It was less messy and cleaner in a restaurant setting.

‘You two must be related. Most people eat pizza with their fingers,’ the waitress mused before leaving.

‘Len may
have
to sell because of the E. coli.’

Jocelyn didn’t answer. ‘Don’t you think it’s odd that he’s the only one whose food’s been affected?’

By definition, organic farmers couldn’t spray with chemicals. That meant it was more difficult to control insects and vermin.

‘His crop could have a particular infestation.’ It still
bothered Anya that not all the infected people could be traced back to Livelonger Organics. There could be another source of the infection.