Death by Beauty (33 page)

She stiffened suddenly at the sound of a voice, swiftly cut out her mobile flashlight and hid the van Leyden–Russell and Carr
files under her top as well. Moving as silently as she could, she closed the cupboard doors and turned the key, locking it
before tiptoeing to the door to listen. The argument was once more in full swing, but the voice was further away. The security
guard was back outside. Cautiously, Gemma opened the door a crack and looked through. She could see the front door standing
a
little ajar, and heard the guard’s accusatory tones clearly carrying in the night air.

‘
You
were supposed to. Not me. You
always
do this!’ he said, raising his voice. Gemma moved silently and peeped outside to see the guard standing with his back to
her, hunched over his mobile, absorbed in the argument.

She edged out the door of the records office and slid along the other side of the wall, looking at the nearby medical supercentre.
As she quietly put more distance between herself and the guard, she thought of Mischa. That’s where I need to get into next,
she thought. What or who else might be hidden in that locked facility?

She crept alongside the mysterious supercentre. It was impossible to see inside the windows; all were secured with internal
shutters, all closed. She rapped on the blind windows, calling Mischa’s name as loudly as she dared. She doubled back to the
front door with its electronic lock. She tried the code F4067X but to no avail. If Mischa were here behind this locked door,
there was no way Gemma could help her tonight.

Her heart pounding and her body fizzing with tension, she made her way along the walls, past the supercentre. Her mobile shivered
again and she barely glanced at the screen: Mike. Again. Not now, darling, she thought as the argument with the security guard’s
girlfriend became more heated. He was pacing up and down, gesticulating with one hand, his mobile clenched to his ear.

Gemma risked a chance when he was farthest away and took off, keeping low and moving quickly in a diagonal tack away from
the records office and closer to the main reception building, towards her car.

During the drive home, she desperately tried to make sense of the pairs of names – Wentworth and Wilson; van Leyden and Russell
– and Annabel Carr. Images of the murdered women Starr and Palier also twisted through her mind. She recalled the half-burned
photograph of Brie in Tolmacheff’s office, and thought about Mischa possibly lured to Sapphire Springs by a pink invitation
…

‘Oh hell, why haven’t I thought of this before?’ she said out loud, remembering the card from Sapphire Springs in Delphine’s
coat pocket. Private investigators sometimes used the ploy of a fake competition to draw reluctant targets into the open:
‘
You’ve won a fantastic weekend away in our latest promotion. Please contact this number for more information
…’

Gemma called Delphine. No answer.

She threw her mobile on the passenger seat in frustration. Delphine had been offered a free day spa at Sapphire Springs, but
what would really happen when she got there?

By the time Gemma arrived home, some of the connections were starting to splice. Mischa, DiNAH therapy, three women murdered
– all connected to Angelo Tolmacheff, the vampire and Sapphire Springs Spa. Magda Simmonds, Maxine Wentworth and Janet Chancy
– all now dead and each connected to the spa and in some way to the revolutionary DiNAH therapy.

Everything meshed at Sapphire Springs.

When she turned the key and crept inside, well after midnight, Mike was working at the dining table, waiting for her. Hugo
must have moved into the operatives’ office again.

‘Where do you think you’ve been all this time, Gemma?’ he asked. ‘I’ve tried calling you over and over.’

‘Sorry. I wasn’t in a position to take your calls, Mike. I think Mischa is being held at Sapphire Springs Spa. And it’s possible
that Delphine Tolmacheff is also there.’

‘Gemma, where have you been?’ Mike repeated.

‘Just listen, Mike. Delphine said something about being “a new woman”. What if she means that literally? What if they’ve offered
her the chance to experience the DiNAH-therapy treatment? They keep a mailing list of all their clients. And what if Tolmacheff
has used his influence to lure his wife to Sapphire Springs?’

‘You have no proof of that. She could be anywhere.’

‘Anywhere else, and she’d have to take toiletries and personal things. She doesn’t need them at Sapphire Springs. That’s why
all her gear’s still at Beecham House. Tolmacheff, the vampire, the green Peugeot, Lizzie—’

‘Who’s Lizzie?’

‘She works at Sapphire Springs. She’s also the registered owner of that Peugeot – that’s where I was this afternoon, at her
address in Belambi. She’s Elizabeth Winchester. That’s why Mischa jumped into that car. She recognised Lizzie. She felt safe
with someone she knew. She wouldn’t have known that Lizzie was working with the vampire and that he is connected to Sapphire
Springs. That’s why it’s important to establish her presence there. That’s why I went out there, to collect samples.’

She pulled out the purloined medical records and slapped them on the table.

Mike took one look at them and shook his head. ‘If Bruno Gross finds out about this, about you taking medical records …’

‘He’s not going to. And there’s another connection: Phoebe Wilson and Annabel Carr. For some reason they’ve each got a file
connected to the records of women who’ve had DiNAH therapy.
Phoebe is dead. Annabel Carr is still alive and yet she’s got a file down there at Sapphire Springs. She could be in danger,
too.’

‘Gemma, I think you’re reading too much into some circumstantial evidence. Look, it’s not even circumstantial. You’re pulling
together things to make a pattern that may not be there at all. You’re imposing your interpretation on a series of events
that mightn’t even be related. You know what can happen when an investigator gets a bee in their bonnet. Their judgement is
skewed. They start racing along a line of inquiry and soon they can’t see any other possibilities.’

‘But Mike,’ she began, ‘can’t you see—’

‘I’ll tell you what I can see. A woman who’s rushing around, getting involved in everybody else’s investigations, getting
involved in their lives and neglecting her own.’

‘Mike, I’m contracted to help Delphine Tolmacheff. And I have a moral responsibility to Mischa Bloomfield. Not to mention
the fact that I need to be financially independent. You can’t be the only one bringing in money. It makes me feel – bad.’

‘It’s the
sort
of work you get involved with, Gemma. What’s the matter with insurance work? There are other,
safer
investigations you can take on. With the people you’ve been dealing with it’s a wonder you haven’t had death threats.’

She didn’t tell him she already had.

‘And there’s the practical question of housing. I’m going to say it again – this place is too small for four people. Even
for one woman, it was always pretty small. I need space for my life too. Sometimes it’s like I’m an annoying boarder tolerated
because of his help with the bills.’

‘Mike, that’s not true! I could never see you like that!’

‘You can’t even give me a straight yes or no when I suggested we get married.’

‘I need time to think.’

He sighed. ‘Okay. But
I’ve
had time to think. And we’ve got to find a bigger place. That’s if you still want our relationship.’

‘I do. I really value it,’ she said.

‘Maybe you do. But in practical terms, working in that front office isn’t enough for me, and lately, it’s been occupied by
Hugo. It can’t go on like this, Gemma.’ She was frightened at the tone of his voice. She’d never heard him speak like this
before. ‘I can’t do it, Gemma,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve tried and I can’t do it anymore.’

She felt like crying. ‘Mike—’

‘I want to live with you and Rafi in a peaceful household, not a refuge for a teenage runaway, assorted crims and the ghost
of bloody Steve Brannigan.’

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s talk about moving. But not just now.’

Mike shrugged and headed up the hallway to his office. She heard him close the door. Through the door she heard his exclamation
of irritation: Hugo.

Gemma went over to the sideboard and poured herself a stiff scotch. She stood there, staring at the decanter, feeling as if
she was being pulled apart. Mike, Steve, the dangerous connections between women she felt obliged to help and whatever was
going on at Sapphire Springs, swirled in opposing constellations. But the biggest concern at the moment was Mike. What was
she going to do? This question now took precedence. Everything he said was justified and yet she was unwilling to change anything
for him. She was hurting him badly, she knew. But something held her back from making a full commitment to him, despite everything.
Tonight she’d seen a flash of emotion in him that
reminded her of something Kit had said years ago: Beware the anger of a patient man.

Soon she would have to make some big decisions, marriage to Mike, a new house, a bigger space for Rafi to play and grow in.
She tossed down the burning spirits and winced.

Gemma’s phone woke her and as she groped for it, stumbling out of bed, she became aware that Mike wasn’t beside her. Her heart
heavy from the words of the night before, she looked over to Rafi, where he slept peacefully in his cot, his eyelids flickering.
She crept out, almost falling over Hugo who’d relocated during the night and obviously slipped off the couch and was now curled
up in the doona on the floor like a witchetty grub. Where’s Mike, she wondered?

‘Lance, do you ever sleep?’ she asked, stepping with the mobile out onto the deck.

‘Ah,’ he said laughing. ‘My family is away this weekend so I’m using the time to catch up. I’ve got a result from the swabs.
The material was somewhat degraded but I was still able to get a result.’

‘And?’

‘The material on the toothbrush and the material from the swab are a match by a factor of one in eleven million. I’m still
waiting for results on the DiNAH pills.’

‘Eleven million!’ Gemma repeated. ‘I knew it!’ Mischa
had
been at Sapphire Springs Spa.

‘And the invoice?’

‘Send them both to Angie McDonald. It’s worth a try. Might slip past the accountants. Otherwise, I guess I’ll have to pick
them up.’ She continued, ‘I found some medical files with strange letters and numbers attached to the names. Would you have
a look at them and tell me what you think they might be? Or where I could find someone who would know?’

‘Drop them by. I’ll have a look first. If I don’t know, I can point you in the right direction.’

She thanked him and rang off.

Mike was already at his desk, head down, hard at work.

‘Can I bring you a coffee?’ she asked.

‘Later. Thanks,’ he said, not looking up.

She called Angie and left a message updating her on the news. She then took Rafi into the shower with her, where he giggled
with delight and clung to her like a little warm, soapy koala. But this morning she was too preoccupied with the events of
the night before to enjoy playing with him, and still fatigued from too little sleep.

When they were dressed, she gave him a quick breakfast and drove him to Kit’s where she hoped to have a chance to talk about
something other than work with her sister. But as they sat down to tea and toast, Angie called.

‘Gems, have you seen the headlines? Check out the lead story in the
Telegraph
. I’ll say no more.’

‘No, Angie. You tell me. I just don’t think I could handle any more bad news.’

‘Who said it was bad?’ chuckled Angie. ‘As to your raid on Sapphire Springs, get Lance to email me the results of the DNA
comparison test on Bloomfield’s mozzie. He runs an accredited lab and with that sort of positive ID, it’s going to be easier
to convince Gross that we need a search warrant. Speaking of the Grossmeister, I’ve opened up an interesting lead on a way
to get him off your back. I’ll say no more over the phone.’

Gemma then briefed Angie on Mrs van Leyden’s suspicions and on what she’d discovered in the files at the medical centre. ‘I’ve
made copies and I’ll give them to Lance. They might tell us something about DiNAH.’ She sighed then went on, ‘I still don’t
understand the connections between these women,’ she said. ‘And I don’t understand why Annabel Carr’s details are there.’

‘Annabel Carr? Remind me,’ said Angie.

‘The girl I interviewed at Bondi. She’d endured an initial vampire injury but never saw him again – unlike Brie, and presumably
unlike the other two women who ended up dead.’

‘Right. If I can get a search warrant, we can seize everything there: paper files, computer records, the works.’

‘But I’ll miss out on all the fun,’ said Gemma. ‘I want to see it – I want to be there when the vampire goes down.’

‘I don’t think that can be arranged, Gems. Sorry. But first things first. I’ve got to get that warrant.’

After the phone call, Kit and Gemma looked at the
Telegraph
site and immediately saw a photograph of Lorraine Litchfield, her face contorted with fury as she attempted to lash out at
the newspaper’s photographer, above the headline: ‘
Crime Boss Widow Retracts Corruption Allegations
’.

‘Gems, what’s going on? I thought this woman was in jail.’

Skimming the rest of the piece, Gemma gave Kit the barest rundown on Steve and Litchfield, carefully leaving herself out of
the story. She knew what her sister would say if she found out.

Litchfield had withdrawn her allegations of corruption against an undercover police officer, the article said. The Police
Integrity Commission inquiry had been suspended, pending further investigations; it was likely she would be charged with a
number of offences.

A related article caught Gemma’s eye: ‘
Early Release Deal Under Scrutiny
’. Another journalist had turned up some information about Litchfield’s early release from prison and the quality of the information
she had given in exchange for that release. An inquiry was pending. Thank God for a free press, Gemma thought. This was the
best news she had had in a long time.

‘I’ve got to go, Kit. Can I leave Rafi with you this morning?’

‘Of course. We’ll do some baking together,’ she said. ‘Bye Gems, take care. You have a look in your eye that’s worrying me.’

‘I’ll be fine. See you later,’ she said as she kissed Rafi goodbye.

Mike remained silent in his office, which told Gemma that he was still angry, so she decided to give him some space. She packed
the copies of the medical files that she’d ‘borrowed’ from Sapphire Springs Spa in her briefcase and left for Paradigm Laboratories.

Lance came out to the foyer to meet her and she handed over copies she’d made of the files.

‘These look like HLA tests,’ he said, leafing through the pages.

‘What’s that?’

‘Human leucocyte antigen tests.’

‘Antigen tests?’ Gemma asked. ‘Antibodies? Something to do with infection control?’

‘More complicated than that,’ said Lance. ‘I’ll have to find someone else to have a look at these.’

‘It’s important, Lance.’

‘I’m really busy,’ he said, ‘but I’ll do what I can and get back to you.’

And I need to get the originals of the medical records back to where they came from ASAP, Gemma thought, as she thanked him.

Not far from the lab her mobile rang, so she pulled over and snatched it up.

‘Gemma! It’s me, Delphine.’

‘Where the hell are you? Are you all right? I’ve been really worried. Everything was still in your room at Beecham House –
your toiletries, everything.’

‘First of all, I’m safe. I know I should have called earlier but so much has happened.’

Gemma closed her eyes briefly, relieved. ‘You’d better tell me, Delphine.’

‘I was going out to do some shopping and as I stepped out of the lift at Beecham House I saw him – Angelo – coming into the
hotel. He didn’t see me, thank God, and while he was at the reception desk I bolted out the door. The only place I could think
to go to was my solicitor’s. So I landed there and filled him in on what had happened since he and I had last met.

‘The long and short of it is that I’ve left town and I’m renting a gorgeous house in Bowral. It belongs to one of the partners
from my solicitor’s firm. I was down here in a couple of hours.
It’s the first time I’ve been able to breathe in days. My solicitor’s calling the insurance company where Angelo’s taken out
that big policy. Have you got the dirt on him yet?’

‘I’m working on it. Do you know anything about a company called Perestroika?

‘Perestroika? It’s a medical centre he’s invested in. That’s all I know. Why?’

‘I’ll keep you posted,’ Gemma said. ‘What about his connections with Sapphire Springs?’

‘Sapphire Springs Spa? He’s connected to that?’

‘Most definitely.’

‘Then thank goodness I decided not to take up their offer. God knows what he might have done to me! God! I wonder if he was
behind that?’

‘It’s quite possible,’ Gemma said.

‘Looks like I’ve had a narrow escape!’

‘What do you know about his son?’

‘Son? He doesn’t have a son!’

‘Like he didn’t have a previous wife?’

‘I wonder what else I don’t know about him,’ said Delphine, her voice sad.

‘You probably don’t want to know, Delphine. How long are you going to be in Bowral?’

‘As long as I like. The rent is reasonable and the highlands air is doing me good.’

‘Where should I send my latest account?’ Gemma asked.

She noted down the address, determined to add an extra fifteen per cent for the unnecessary stress she’d endured because of
Delphine’s tardiness in contacting her.

While she was stopped she decided to call Spinner.

‘Hey, boss, I was just about to call you. Guess you’ve seen the papers. That was a good job we did.’

‘It sure was. I couldn’t have done it without you.’

Spinner snorted. ‘Of course you could. Has Steve seen it?’

‘I’m not sure. I hope so.’

‘You should drop by and make sure.’

Driving off, she couldn’t get Spinner’s words out of her mind. She felt sure that Steve would know already – someone in the
job would have called him. But what if no one had?