Fatal Impact (32 page)

57

T
hat evening, Oliver arrived for dinner. Audrey Lingard had left enough meals in Jocelyn’s fridge to last a fortnight, but after the events of the day, no one apart from the detective had much of an appetite. Jocelyn couldn’t rest until she knew why Craig had killed himself. Anya looked in the fridge for something people could graze on if they felt the need.

‘They weren’t made from PT beef, were they?’ Oliver peeked under the lids.

‘Audrey said she buys from the town meatworks.’ She checked inside the foil of one package. Garlic bread. She did it up again. ‘Any luck finding out what MIV means?’

‘Weird that they use a code. If Moss is doing more deals with the Chinese consortiums, the feds would be pretty ticked off he’s going behind their backs and compromising international relations with America. That’s a delicate line in diplomacy they have going.’

Whatever the secure structure was going to be, it seemed odd that PT thought they had to negotiate with POWER and Alison Blainey.

‘Maybe further development would harm the local flora and fauna, or threaten an endangered species.’ Jocelyn appeared in the doorway and went to make herself an iced tea.

‘Mum, there’s wine. Oliver stopped and bought some, along with beer.’ One drink wouldn’t affect Jocelyn’s medications.

‘I’ll have wine then, if I’m allowed.’ Jocelyn seemed a little lost. She had dealt with so much in the past few days, including a potentially fatal illness. Considering that, she was holding up well.

Anya was curious. ‘How did research into Craig’s real estate office go?’

Oliver opened his notepad. ‘Craig seems to have been quite the slick salesman. Nine properties were sold in the last fourteen months, to seven buyers. They were all decent sizes, from one hundred to four hundred hectares. First one was bought by Jerry Dyke.’ For Jocelyn’s benefit, Oliver added, ‘If you remember, he was Reuben Millard’s defence lawyer, turned PT employee.

‘Next was Lydia Pilchard.’

Jocelyn poured two glasses of white and brought them over, along with a beer for Oliver.

‘I went to school with her,’ she said. ‘She just happens to be Christian Moss’s older sister. I don’t recall any of her husbands being interested in farming, and she hasn’t had to work since husband number two.’

‘Thadeus Leske,’ the detective continued. ‘Ryan Chapman, whom I gather works with Christian Moss . . .’

‘That’s his chief of staff.’ Anya had seen him a few times now.

‘Well, he bought two properties. Then there was Margaret Nelson, whom Craig’s secretary tells me is a widow. Margaret died a few months ago and left it to her nephew, the one and only Reuben Millard. A woman named Kimberley Oscrow bought one. Craig Dengate snapped up the other two himself. They were all bought in a disastrous slump and from what I can tell, for a bargain. Amazingly, they’ve all just been sold.’

‘How recently?’ Anya didn’t believe in coincidence. All but one of the buyers were connected directly or indirectly to PT.

‘Settlement took place yesterday on all but the Dengate-owned properties. They were due this coming week.’

‘Did any sell for a loss?’ Anya thought that might explain Craig’s pitiful grab for commission from Len.

‘Astonishingly, each one was worth .
. .
wait for it
. . .
on average, ten times the price a year ago. And they were all purchased by the same buyer – Ethical Future.’

Anya whistled. ‘Wow. This is like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Mincer and his luck at the casinos, now this. Makes you wonder why he bothered with odd jobs.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You said all but Craig’s sales were finalised.’

‘That’s right.’ Oliver took a swig of beer.

‘Mum, has there been any talk or whispers about new developments around here? Any new projects?’

‘Not that I’ve heard.’ Jocelyn frowned. ‘That’s an enormous amount of land. Surprised Craig could keep his trap shut about the record prices.’

‘I had an informal chat to Dengate’s assistant who said Craig did all the dealings in person with a representative from Ethical Future. She seemed to think it was so “hush-hush”, someone famous had to be behind it.’

‘They’d be more likely to buy an island than a chunk of land in the middle of somewhere, I’d have thought. This generation is completely celebrity-obsessed,’ Jocelyn said. ‘The rumours about fracking were picking up pace. Maybe this Ethical Future, whoever that is, heard the mining company didn’t get the licence before anyone else.’

‘The secretary photocopied this for me.’ Oliver unfolded an A3-size document. ‘I’ve marked the properties that turned over.’ Pink highlighter stripes covered most of the map. The properties’ boundaries outlined one mass of land.

‘It’s fertile land. PT and the Chinese have to be behind this. It’ll mean they own at least a third of the state.’ Jocelyn slapped the table. ‘Moss and his cronies have a lot to answer for.’

Oliver jotted down some notes. ‘I’ll get my people to look into Ethical Future. Someone has to have signed for all the sales.’

Anya wasn’t comfortable. ‘PT have shown themselves to be shrewd businesspeople. The market was dead, and yet someone paid exponentially more than market value.’ She wondered if Ethical Future was another Clarkson Evergreen company, like PT.

‘And look who profited,’ Oliver said. ‘Not who you would think of as natural bedfellows. Millard looked terrified when we mentioned Mincer Leske’s name.’

Anya had to agree. She left the table to put the food into the oven. ‘Why did the turnover take just on twelve months?’

Oliver sat back, hands clasped behind his head. ‘That’s something I haven’t worked out. My people did some checking. Graham Fowler was a major contributor to Christian Moss’s re-election campaign in the two last elections. According to the list of donors, so were half the scientists and executives at PT. Including Patsy Gallop and Reuben Millard.’

‘Patsy would never have contributed to Moss’s campaign. She was vocal about supporting the Sustainable Tasmania Party.’ Jocelyn clicked her fingers. ‘I know why they all kept the properties for at least twelve months. If you keep if for at least twelve months and make it your primary residence for that time, you don’t have to pay capital gains tax. In Mincer Leske’s case, he would have made it the girlfriend’s primary residence given he was in prison for most of that time.’ She sat back. ‘This is a conspiracy even Len missed. Craig was in it up to his eyeballs.’

Anya looked over Oliver’s shoulder. He had listed the names of the real estate deal in a circle. ‘Who’s the lynchpin here?’

‘As far as we know, Mincer didn’t live in his place. It looked like it had been abandoned for years with rats as the only tenants. And the secretary said Craig Dengate did everything for those sales. Even handled the pest and building inspections for all the buyers.’ He rocked the beer bottle in one hand. ‘No conflict of interest there when the real estate agent’s contacts give the all clear to a place. Talk about buyer beware.’

‘Who was supposed to have done the inspections? I had a devil’s job getting anyone to look at this place,’ Jocelyn said. ‘Craig knew I had trouble and didn’t say anything. I distinctly remember Len asking him if he knew anyone reliable.’

A knock at the door distracted them. Jocelyn went to answer it and Anya took the opportunity to check the bread in the oven. The smell of garlic already filled the kitchen.

Jocelyn called out, ‘We have company.’

Simon Hammond appeared in the hallway and looked around. He was dressed in jeans and a plain shirt. ‘Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to see how you were doing. After .
. .’

‘You’re not interrupting.’ Oliver was quick to invite him in.

Anya gave Oliver a quizzical look.

‘Please, join us,’ he said.

‘No, but thanks anyway. I’m going on leave and just–’

‘This is a bad time to isolate yourself,’ Oliver interrupted. ‘You don’t want to cut yourself off from colleagues and support right now.’ He didn’t seem bothered about the documents on the table or keeping their investigation confidential.

‘Company’s great. There’s plenty of food.’ The detective got up and gave the constable a beer.

58

A
nya added an extra dish of food to the oven.

There was another knock, this time on the back door. Jeanette Egan apologised for the intrusion. She had printed out the preliminary results of the cultures from the manure samples she had taken. Anya and Jocelyn invited her in as well.

‘I thought you would want to see these for yourself,’ she said, leaving her boots at the back door and handing over the pathology results. ‘You can look at them later.’

‘No,’ Anya said. ‘These are important.’ A quick read confirmed the presence of the same organism that had killed Emily. It was contained in almost every sample. Anya exhaled slowly. PT was responsible for Emily’s death. This proved it. Jenny Quaid and the other affected families would be able to sue PT for compensation, and the company would be forced to modify its practices.

‘Thank you,’ she hugged Jeanette. ‘Please join us for a meal. It’s been a long day.’

‘I can’t believe Craig killed his brother. I knew he had money troubles.’

Oliver introduced himself and asked, ‘What sort?’

‘He liked to gamble. Ponies, greyhounds. Vets hear a lot in the stables.’

Jocelyn brought Jeanette a beer and went outside to be with Roswell, who was sitting patiently on the verandah.

Oliver looked at the culture results. ‘You’ll lose your job over this, when they find out you tested the samples and showed us.’

‘I know. But I did it for Len. He deserved a whole lot better.’ She raised her drink.

The others did the same. ‘To Len.’

Oliver quickly returned to business. The map. ‘Do either of you know this area at all? It’s around Cressy.’

Simon pulled his chair in closer, and Jeanette peered over his shoulder.

The constable studied the highlighted areas. ‘I’ve been trying to work out what was going on there myself. Last summer there were an odd group of incidents. Like here.’ He pointed. ‘The old couple woke up to a Molotov cocktail through their front window. Seemed random. They were retired and never even had a parking ticket. No neighbour feuds, and we didn’t find out who did it. I went back a month later to check on them and they’d moved out.’

‘Anything else?’

‘A car had its tyres slashed while the owners were asleep. Each had a steak knife in it. We assumed it was just kids out at night looking for trouble. Nothing was stolen, just the tyres wrecked. The old man who lived there was shaken that someone had been so close to his house.’

‘Can you remember the address?’

‘It was across the river.’ Simon examined the map again. He identified it as the property bought by Kimberly Oscrow. ‘People here aren’t used to having homes broken into. Guess it was a violation he couldn’t forgive.’

‘Do you know the woman who bought the place, surname Oscrow?’ Jocelyn asked.

‘Should I?’ For the first time, the senior constable appeared unsure of himself. Anya suspected he was feeling intimidated about being quizzed regarding places on the map.

‘Do you know if McGinley owns any property down that way?’ Oliver asked what Anya had already wondered.

‘No clue. We don’t exactly mix outside work.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘I should be going. Anyway, glad you doctors are okay.’

Anya felt he needed to be around people who had shared the trauma.

‘At least stay for dinner. There’s plenty to go around. And I promise to protect you from the interrogator. He has a one-track mind.’

‘Speaking of food, something smells fantastic.’ Oliver was back at the fridge and removed three more beers. Anya wondered who was planning on driving that night. She placed a pile of plates on the bench and counted out the knives before laying out trivets. Jocelyn steered Simon up to her end of the table, next to Anya. Jeanette grabbed the seat on his other side.

Jocelyn waited on Simon, who sat quietly. She chose a selection of foods for him. Jeanette and Oliver helped themselves. Anya served up her mother’s food before sitting down herself. For the first time in years, she heard Jocelyn say grace.

The clinking of plates and chatter gave Anya some mental space. Jocelyn ate a hearty meal and told Simon stories about his father as a child.

Going back for seconds, Simon quietly asked Anya, ‘Why did Parke ask about McGinley owning something there? Is he investigating him?’

Anya could honestly admit, ‘I don’t know. But in light of new evidence, it’s possible that Reuben Millard didn’t kill Patsy Gallop.’

The policeman’s face moved closer. ‘I knew it. Millard didn’t have a bad bone in his body. He was the kind of guy who’d give you his last dollar and not expect anything in return. Len was convinced, too. I couldn’t come up with anything to prove otherwise.’

‘Do you think McGinley’s corrupt?’ Oliver was back with his empty plate, not mincing words.

‘I’ve watched him ever since I got here. Laziness and bumbling incompetence are more his specialty. He was so quick to point the finger at Reuben, everything that happened after that was to prove that theory. If it didn’t fit, it was thrown out of the brief.’

Oliver piled his plate with more garlic bread and lasagne. ‘Any examples?’

‘For one thing, no one searched her and Len’s place for selenium tablets. Sure, they searched Millard’s, but not the most obvious place.’ Simon came to life, as if he’d been wanting to share his thoughts. ‘Patsy had trained for a mini-marathon. Those athletes are fanatical. They use protein powders and concoctions they get online. I couldn’t help but wonder if she might have accidentally poisoned herself.’

Anya chose not to mention the dissolved capsules found in the drink bottle. Over-the-counter tablets were swallowed, not normally dissolved in water. Someone had to have placed a powdered form of selenium in the capsules, then put them in Patsy’s drink bottle. It was someone who knew she ran each day, and had access at PT and the opportunity.

Jeanette helped herself to some lamb casserole. ‘She was pretty, I know that. Plenty of men fancied her. Maybe one of them couldn’t handle rejection. Like in
Fatal Attraction
.’

That was what McGinley wanted to believe of Reuben Millard, Anya thought. Yet nothing had been found on his home computer, only on his work one.

‘Did anyone else at TIAA or PT come under suspicion?’ Anya asked. ‘Even briefly?’

‘She died on the Monday at work and Millard was the only person who’d been with her in the morning. She went for a run at lunchtime, before getting sick that afternoon. Toxicologists testified that the poison was fast acting. Everyone else at TIAA had been with others that day, and didn’t have access to Patsy’s drink bottle. Apart from Len, that is, before work.’

‘What had she done that weekend?’ Anya pressed.

‘On Saturday she tried on wedding dresses in Hobart,’ Jocelyn reflected. ‘She was so excited about marrying Len and thought she’d found the perfect one. On Sunday she did a fun run and weekly weigh-in.’

‘After that,’ Simon added, ‘she went home. Len cooked dinner, they watched TV and had an early night.’

Anya remembered seeing a photo of Patsy at Len’s house. She was in workout clothes with a group of people. Patsy was beaming in it. Len had said he kept it on display because it was the last photo of her ever taken. ‘She won an award that day.’

Simon snapped his fingers. ‘That’s right. I’d forgotten. How did you know?’

Anya excused herself. ‘Mum, do you remember where Len got the picture of Patsy taken the day before she died?’

‘I do. I got it for him from the newspaper. They sell prints.’

Anya looked up images on her computer and typed in Patsy’s name. A series of photos of her popped up. Many showed her with a much fuller figure. Anya scanned the thumbnails. Halfway down the page she found it: an image of Patsy with her medal. Pulling up the image, she couldn’t believe the difference. The chubby man in the photo was familiar. He was much trimmer now, but the eyes were the same.

‘Recognise him?’ she asked Simon.

‘That’s Christian Moss’s right-hand man, Ryan Chapman. He was at the protest at PT.’

Everyone in the group photo had access to Patsy’s drink bottle that day, including Ryan Chapman. But which of them had access to PT?