Fatal Impact (13 page)

‘What you’re expecting me to believe is,’ Jocelyn used her fingers to mimic quotation marks, ‘ “shit” happens. I used to think so. But if there is an avalanche of shit, you better start finding the arseholes responsible and fix the cause. The way I see it, Len’s been pushing diarrhoea uphill with a toothpick for a very long time. This area’s got some giant arseholes that need plugging. How do you know he wasn’t sabotaged?’

Jocelyn was sounding as paranoid as Len Dengate.

Anya sighed. ‘Isn’t it possible Len was under financial pressure? Farming is tough right now. He might have been trying to save money by cutting corners.’ Then something else occurred to her. ‘What if somehow the bags had come into contact with the bacteria in the production stage and were already contaminated when the spinach was packed?’

Jocelyn took a bite of pizza and waved her knife. ‘You could be on to something. Someone could have set that up.’

Anya was becoming increasingly frustrated. ‘Mum, not everything is a conspiracy.’

‘Interesting you chose that word. Conspiracy theorist or whistleblower? Terrorist or freedom fighter? It depends on which side of the fence you’re on.’ She pointed at the entrance as two more men entered, each dressed in shirts and jeans.

‘Craig Dengate – Len’s older brother – and Graham Fowler, the CEO of PT, the company that took over Emerald Vale. Explain what they’re doing here.’ The first was a dead ringer for Len Dengate, only less solid. The second was shorter with sharp features and thinning grey hair.

Maybe they were just having lunch, Anya thought. She needed to make Jocelyn see the bigger picture. ‘Because of Livelonger’s spinach, an elderly man has lost his life and Evelyn is in a critical condition, facing kidney failure and dialysis. It still might have been the source of the infection that killed little Emily Quaid. Who knows, her mother and sister could have been infected and are somewhere in need of help too. The priority is to prevent further infection. You of all people know that. And don’t you think the families deserve reasons, not excuses? What’s happened to Len is sad, but he isn’t a martyr or a victim here. The people who died or are fighting for their lives are.’ Anya stabbed at her food and picked off a piece of lamb.

Jocelyn’s hands trembled and she put her cutlery down. ‘You think answers will stop those people’s grief?’

‘No.’ Anya knew from personal and professional experience that closure was something psychologists and police talked about, but was never really possible. In reality, grief had no end. Time eased some of the pain, but the most insignificant sight, sound or smell could trigger it all at any moment. For her, the hint of lavender sent her back to the lavender farm she and Miriam had visited. ‘I understand that in a crisis, people need to feel like they understand what went wrong, and need to believe no one else will suffer. Sometimes there is no reason. Tragedies just happen.’

Jocelyn’s eyes darkened. ‘You’ve been sheltered from the real world, the people who have to live on, for too long.’

Anya suspected they were no longer talking about the E. coli outbreak.

‘Look over there at Craig. That fool would bet on two flies going up a wall, always chasing a big win. He’s lost everything he ever inherited. Real estate’s his latest bandwagon. Graham Fowler didn’t get to where he is by tolerating fools. Wouldn’t have picked them as allies. Look pretty cosy huddled together talking like that.’

Both men were led into the private room.

Anya knew her mother was harbouring some tidbit. ‘It isn’t a coincidence we came here, is it?’

Jocelyn grinned. ‘The owner’s wife is a patient of mine. She boasted that this was Moss’s go-to place when he wanted private meetings and didn’t want the media to find out. That room was booked for him over a week ago. Audrey knew Glenn would be here today for a meeting with Moss.’

If it was true, her mother was right. This so-called ‘crisis meeting’ was planned before anyone even got sick with the E. coli infection.

Jocelyn picked up a fork full of pizza and took a giant bite. ‘It’s as if Moss knew this would all happen. By today.’

Anya put down her knife and fork. ‘Can you hear yourself? Are you honestly suggesting a minister deliberately contaminated Len’s crop and killed people. Planned the whole thing so it would all blow up today?’

Jocelyn conceded it sounded ridiculous. ‘I know how that sounds. But consider this. A month ago, Len’s property was valued at $180 million. With this scandal and the fear of the infection contaminating his land, he’ll be lucky to get a tenth of that tomorrow if he put it on the market. Suddenly Graham Fowler from PT crawls out of the woodwork with Craig’s brother, a real estate agent? You tell me that’s not a coincidence.’

Anya had to admit, if PT wanted to buy Len’s property, things had definitely turned in their favour. Christian Moss said the dinner was a crisis meeting. Then why was it booked a week earlier?

20

A
nya and her mother returned home after lunch. While Jocelyn saw a couple of emergency patients in the cottage, Anya filled the kettle and switched it on. As she waited, she decided to tidy some of the files that had been dumped on the floor in the dining area. Each folder contained the medical records for every member of a single family unit. On the front of each folder was written a large number in thick black ink. A pile by the wall had all been marked with a zero.

Another stack had folders marked with 5+ and the name of a town. The name Evandale appeared on a number of files in that group. Anya wasn’t sure what exactly her mother had been auditing, and why she hadn’t transferred the information to a computer program that assisted with clinical audits. GPs could work out how best to implement preventive health strategies in their practices, depending on the prevalence of disease and risk factors in their patient base.

She looked inside one of the folders marked 5+. Diagnoses on the cover page for the first patient read prostate cancer, type 2 diabetes, hypertension and cardiovascular disease. The next family member’s cover page documented hypertension, hypothyroidism and asthma. The third, a child, had been born with Down syndrome. Another child was well, apart from asthma and peanut allergy.

Anya tried to work out what the number five represented. It wasn’t the number of patient notes in the folder.

She suspected that there was some order to the mass of files that had covered the kitchen table and chairs when she had arrived. Two more piles contained files marked with the number three. The top folder was for an elderly couple. Between them, they had cardiomyopathy, high blood pressure, kidney disease, coeliac disease, diabetes and rheumatoid arthritis. From the numbers, it wasn’t possible to work out what conditions of demographic her mother had been auditing, or whether she was somehow ranking severity of illnesses.

The kettle boiled just as Anya’s phone rang.

‘Dr Crichton, this is Beatrice Quaid.’

Anya sat on a dining chair to take the call. ‘I’ve been thinking of you, wondering how you’re coping.’

‘I’ll do better if what the police said is true,’ she said. ‘About the farm having poisoned Emily and all those other people.’

Anya rubbed her temple with her spare hand. ‘A farm outside Longford has been identified as the source for some of the infected food. But they’re still not sure where Emily got the food that caused her illness.’

‘Are you saying it’s possible this farm may not be responsible for my granddaughter’s death?’

‘I’m saying that Emily might have eaten some infected spinach from there. If she didn’t, there is possibly another source. I haven’t heard yet whether the bacteria was found in Jenny’s garden beds. The health inspectors would have tested the fruit and vegetables she’d been growing.’

‘So if they shut this farm down and there are no more cases, it proves they infected everyone. If more cases come up then they won’t have been caused by Livelonger Organics .
. .’
Beatrice’s voice trailed off.

Or people wouldn’t have seen the recall announcements in time and consumed infected spinach, Anya thought. ‘If new cases keep appearing once Livelonger is shut down, there has to be another source.’

‘I see. I want you to tell me exactly what Emily went through.’ The grandmother remained composed. ‘How much did she suffer?’

The question wasn’t that easily answered, especially as Emily didn’t seem to have been given any medical treatment. ‘She probably started feeling nauseated, and developed some vomiting and diarrhoea. After a while, she would have had abdominal pain, fever, and become dehydrated fairly quickly.’ Anya could imagine the scene. Evelyn had deteriorated so quickly. Emily’s illness could have come on and been fatal within a few hours.

‘I need to know
everything
. Don’t think you’re protecting me by withholding information. Ignorance is much worse than knowing what happened.’

‘I understand that. Pretty soon Emily would have started passing blood, then vomiting as well. The whole thing would have come on very quickly. Kidney failure would have happened next, so she stopped producing urine, then her other organs would have begun to shut down. She probably lost consciousness after that.’

‘Was she alive when she was put in the box?’

Anya couldn’t say for sure. ‘I don’t know. There is some evidence that Jenny did call for help though. A naturopath had been treating her and the kids, and she called him. Except that something interrupted her and she must have dropped the phone. My guess is that’s when Emily vomited blood in the bathroom.’ Without a car, Jenny had no way of getting her child to a doctor, or even to Heyes. ‘It’s most likely Emily died there.’

Anya could picture the mother panicking, trying to clean up the blood with the first thing she could reach – the towels. She didn’t leave her daughter to get a mop or bleach. That suggested it hadn’t been a calculated plan to clean up evidence of the blood. Besides, Mia could have been watching on, terrified for her sister.

‘Thank you .
. .’
Her voice dropped a tone. ‘I need to know how my granddaughter was .
. .
put .
. .
in the box?’

Anya closed her eyes. This must have been so painful to hear, but Mrs Quaid had a right to know.

‘She was on her side, as if she was sleeping peacefully. There was a soft toy, a yellow duck, placed in her hands.’ Anya honestly believed that the last was a loving gesture, not a cold, indifferent act.

The phone was silent for a few moments.

‘And if Mia and Jenny ate the food as well, they would have experienced the same things?’

‘We don’t know if they did. Emily was on a special diet.’ The best outcome would be that Jenny had panicked and gone into hiding because she feared Mia being taken away. She chose her words carefully. ‘The police are using all their resources to find them.’

‘But if they did eat the contaminated food, could little Mia survive this long?’

It was unlikely. If Jenny was ill, she wouldn’t be capable of looking after her three-year-old. ‘I know you’re trying to prepare for the worst. Truth is, it’s pointless even thinking that until the police know more.’

‘I’ve been approached by a lawyer.’ Beatrice sounded as if she were confessing. ‘He is putting together a class action, to sue Livelonger Organics for everything they have, and to make sure they never hurt anyone again. After what you’ve told me, I’ve decided to join the lawsuit.’

After hanging up, Anya sat thinking about how Len Dengate would respond to the news about being sued. She hadn’t told her mother that he would also be under investigation for possible criminal charges. If he’d had any idea the
food was contaminated, or had failed to comply with quality
standards, he could be charged with manslaughter or even negligent homicide.

As the sun set, Anya found Jocelyn in the cottage, asleep at her desk on a pile of papers. As the door clicked shut behind Anya, her mother sat upright and rubbed both eyes. ‘How long have I been here?’

‘A few hours.’

‘How could you let me stay here this long?’

‘I saw the last patient drive off and assumed you had work to catch up on.’ Anya had taken the opportunity to go over Tom Quaid’s post-mortem notes and edit some reports on the chair out the back in the shade.

‘Let me freshen up.’ Her eyes were more drawn than earlier. Jocelyn splashed cold water on her face from the consulting room sink.

‘Who are all those files for?’ Anya pointed at Jocelyn’s desk.

‘They’re from the Longford surgery. I’m auditing their files as well as my Launceston ones. Since no one bought the practice there, I brought them all with me.’

Anya leant against the door. ‘When was the last time you took time off and got away?’

‘A change is supposed to be as good as a holiday.’ She dabbed her face with a paper towel. ‘I moved house and surgery. Besides, I couldn’t get a locum to cover me even if I did want a break.’

‘It doesn’t sound like your workload is any lighter than in Launceston.’

‘We all have our crosses to bear.’ She ran a comb from the drawer through her hair. ‘You married Martin .
. .’

Anya felt her temper flare and didn’t want another argument. ‘Please don’t start this again.’

Jocelyn threw her hands in the air. ‘Fine. I was only half-joking. Now. We have work to do.’

About five hundred metres from the turn-off to Livelonger Organics, they saw a dark sedan stopped by the roadside. It was an odd place to leave a car, off the main road.

Jocelyn slowed and then pulled up directly behind it. The headlights illuminated two silhouettes in the car. Before Anya could stop her, her mother jumped out and marched up to the driver’s window. The headlights showed her handing something across, as if she were mailing a letter in a post-box.

Jocelyn strutted back to her car, tugging on her scarf.

‘Right,’ she said with a satisfied expression, and clicked the seatbelt in place.

Anya had no idea what had just happened. ‘Are you going to tell me what that was all about?’

‘Don’t worry.’ Jocelyn hit the blinker and turned into the road to Len’s. ‘I gave them my card to save them tracing my number plate. Who knows, I could get business if they get sick while they’re in town.’

‘Them?’ Her mother’s sense of humour appeared at the oddest moments. ‘Who on earth are they?’

‘Minister’s henchmen. They had the public servant look.’ She accelerated, leaving dust in her wake. Two kilometres down the road, they saw the lights of the main house.

Outside on the gravel drive, a white Honda was parked. It had a rental sticker on the back window.

‘Right.’ Jocelyn stepped out and collected a bag from the boot.

‘Are you going to tell me why those men were really sitting out there in the dark?’

‘Good question.’ She wore a cheeky grin Anya had never seen before as she leant over and touched the bonnet of the hire car. ‘We’re right on time.’

Anya was confused and concerned. ‘Mum, are you all right?’

‘An old trick I learnt doing house calls. If people tell you they can’t leave the house and you find their car bonnet is warm, you know they’ve managed to get out in the last hour. You’d be surprised how many people think the doctor is a free home service but don’t think twice about driving to the shops or chiropractor.’

Her mother had a sensible answer for most things. There was nothing to suggest the slurring or forgetfulness Damien said he’d heard.

They climbed the four steps to the front door. Jocelyn waved to a camera above the door and let herself in. Anya followed. Len’s house was immaculate. His kelpie lay obediently on a small mattress near the wall opposite the sassafras kitchen table. He sat up when Jocelyn walked in and raised his chin so she could scratch underneath. Len looked more dishevelled than before. He hadn’t exactly dressed for company. It was difficult to miss a large flat-screen TV mounted on the sideboard. Wherever he was in the kitchen he could see it. The screen was on and split into four black and white views. The front, sides and back of the house were being monitored. Without rising from his seat at the kitchen table, he introduced a woman with a mane of honey-blonde hair who stood and straightened her navy jersey wrap dress. Her exposed skin was pale and her face
free of makeup, marks and blemishes. The hair around her
face was layered and held off her face with simple clips. ‘Hi, y’all. I’m Alison Blainey. I’m here to lend POWER’s support for Len to get through this.’

Alison explained she was originally from South Carolina and worked for an international humanitarian organisation called Protecting Our Water, Environment and Resources (POWER) in Hobart. Anya knew they attracted attention, media and donations when they protested against whaling, rainforest destruction and pollutant chemicals.

Jocelyn stepped forward and shook Alison’s hand.

‘When did you arrive?’ Anya asked, curious as to why a powerful lobbying group would want to be associated with
a company responsible for an E. coli outbreak.

‘The contamination has been all over the news,’ she said with a Southern American accent. ‘I was in Hobart for a conference on Antarctica. I don’t normally drive, but I hired a car and came straight here.’

Len pulled Jocelyn aside. Anya could hear every word without trying. ‘Can we trust your girl? How do you know she isn’t working with them? She was at my farm today when it all happened.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. She and the police found the body of the child and Anya was involved in finding out the cause of death. She had no part in the public health investigation.’

The large man nodded. ‘If you trust her, I do.’

Anya felt more than a little unnerved being in the home of someone who had pulled a gun on her just over twenty-four hours earlier.

Two framed photos sat on top of the sideboard. One was of Len and an attractive woman with dark hair and a bright face. Anya presumed this was Patsy. The other was of the same woman flanked by a large group of people, all wearing sports clothes. Len noticed Anya looking. ‘That was the last picture taken of my Patsy. She was so happy that day.’

‘She was stunning.’ Anya tried to ease any tension.

‘Too good for me, some said.’

Jocelyn scolded. ‘She loved you, no one else. Never forget that.’

The host busied himself with a coffee pot and produced two extra china mugs. They arrived on a tray with a Royal Albert sugar bowl and milk jug. ‘Alison’s been aware of the goings-on in the area for a while. She thinks she can help save Livelonger. I was supposed to meet her late next week for advice to help promote the business.’

‘So I came a little early.’ She patted Len’s hand. ‘We need to go on the attack quickly. We should strike back with carefully placed articles and interviews reinforcing how sustainable and superior organic farming is. Non-organic producers argue there’s no nutritional difference, so we have to focus on the health benefits gained from cutting out pesticides and toxic chemicals.’

Len poured the coffee as Alison continued.