Death by Beauty (34 page)

Gemma picked up Rafi from Kit and by the time she’d driven to Steve’s place, he was sound asleep in his carseat. He barely
woke when she lifted him out gently. Her heart was beating quickly as she carried him along the street, around the corner
and up to the small apartment block.

Steve opened the door as soon as she pressed the button and stood there, staring at her and then at Rafi, a drowsy cherub,
his head against her shoulder, his lips slightly parted and his eyelids flickering in baby dreams.

Steve couldn’t speak for a moment and neither could she. This was the little family Gemma had once dreamed about. Steve seemed
younger and more boyish than when she’d last seen him, his hair falling over his forehead and a smile breaking out. A great
weight lifted from him.

‘My son,’ he said, putting his hand out to touch the little, pearly fingers. ‘Rafi.’

Even in his sleep, Rafi’s fingers responded to Steve’s touch, gently budding open then closing again.

There were tears in Steve’s eyes and he coughed to cover them, stepping back and speaking too quickly. ‘Come in, both of you.
I was just thinking about you, Gems, and here you are, with – with Rafi.’

‘So, you’ve heard the news,’ she said.

‘I can’t tell you how good I feel. A mate rang early this morning. It’s like my life has been given back to me.’

Once they were inside, Steve gingerly put his hand out again, softly touching Rafi’s rounded forehead and downy head. ‘G’day,
little fella. Pleased to meet you.’

Rafi opened his eyes and immediately delivered one of his radiant smiles. Gemma saw the effect on Steve as his face lit up
like a kid’s on Christmas morning.

‘Hey! Did you see that? He smiled at me. He smiled at his dad!’

Gemma bit her lip. Steve’s pleasure in his son made her want to cry. ‘Steve, he smiles at everyone.’

‘Not like that, he doesn’t. That was a special smile, wasn’t it, mate?’

Rafi did it again, this time even wider, jigging with excitement in her arms.

‘Hey little fella, come here to Papa!’

Responding with mysterious baby intuition, Rafi spread his arms out wide, reaching for his father. Gemma relinquished him
and Steve took him, carrying him with assurance as if he did it every day.

‘We can go scuba diving, bungee jumping, fishing and rock climbing, Rafi. Abseiling. What do you think of that?’

Rafi squealed with joy as his father showed him around the room, all the while suggesting a litany of other unsuitable activities.
‘What about hang-gliding? Base jumping?’

Gemma’s heart ached. Why couldn’t he have been like this when she was pregnant? Why leave it until now, when it was all too
late? This surprising and sudden fatherly euphoria was, she thought, the opposite reaction to the despair and hopelessness
Steve had been enduring for weeks now. It was a huge emotional release. She smiled at the two of them, the dancing man, the
laughing baby, thinking how quickly things had changed for Steve – from the depths of despair to this spontaneous joy.

After a few minutes Gemma tenderly took Rafi from him, saying, ‘Don’t get him too wild, Steve. He can go from laughing to
screaming very quickly when he’s just woken up.’

She sat him down on the floor, positioning cushions around him to keep him somewhat corralled. It didn’t work. Within seconds
he’d barged past them and was heading at full speed towards the narrow hallway that led down to the bedroom.

Gemma brought Steve up to date with the different cases she’d been working on. She told him about the connections to Sapphire
Springs Spa, explaining the mystery and possible menace that surrounded DiNAH therapy. In a little while, discussing the cases
so easily, it felt as if they had never been apart. In a break in the conversation, Gemma became aware of the silence. She
jumped up. ‘Uh oh. Rafi’s up to something. He’s too quiet. Where is he?’ She hurried down to the bedroom – and there was her
son, on the floor playing with Steve’s work boots.

She was aware of Steve coming up behind her and the two of them stood there a moment, gazing in wonderment at their boy. Gemma
was surprised by sudden tears, which she stifled but Steve
heard the sob. He pulled her hard against him, her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, grasping
her hands in his, his face pushing down into the side of her neck.

‘This feels so right,’ he said quietly. ‘Holding you. You, me and our son.’

Gemma swung away, breaking the spell of his familiar scent and skin, turning to face him. ‘Don’t do this, Steve! It’s too
late. And you’re not being fair, talking like this now that I’ve made a life without you.’

But he pulled her to him, kissing her hard. Gemma broke free, heart pounding, anger and desire melding in a confused surge
of emotions.

Her mobile chimed and she ran back into the lounge room and snatched it up, grateful for the interruption.

‘Yes?’ she said, trying to bring her breath under control.

‘Miss Lincoln? It’s April Evans from Sapphire Springs Spa. I need to speak with you – urgently.’

The woman’s voice was strained. Something had happened. Gemma recalled the last time she had seen Dr Evans, distressed and
upset, valiantly trying to smile professionally.

‘What is this about?’ Gemma asked, looking up as Steve appeared in the doorway from the hall.

‘I can’t really talk about it – not on the phone. Ms Lincoln, it’s extremely important. Please, can you come straight away?
Look, if you’re concerned about that trespass business … it’s not about that.’

‘What is is about then?’

‘Please. I can’t speak about this on the phone. Just come.’

Gemma could hear the desperate plea in the woman’s voice.

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ she said, ringing off, her heart rate starting to return to normal. No sooner had she done
this than her mobile rang again. Angie.

‘Things are moving fast,’ she said. ‘No,’ she pre-empted, ‘I haven’t got that search warrant organised yet but the DNA match
will make it a whole lot easier.’

‘April Evans just called,’ said Gemma. ‘She wants to see me, urgently. She sounded very distressed. She could be ready to
answer a few questions about DiNAH therapy.’

‘I’ll meet you out there,’ said Angie.

‘I’ll have to get someone to mind Rafi.’

‘I can do that,’ Steve interrupted the conversation. ‘Just tell me what I should give him to eat.’

‘That was Steve’s voice?’ Angie asked in disbelief. ‘What the hell are you up to?’

‘Let’s talk about it later,’ said Gemma. ‘I’ll see you at Sapphire Springs.’

She rang off. Rafi might be happy now, playing with Steve, but she wondered how he would be when he realised she had gone.

‘Let me mind him. I’m his father, for God’s sake. He’s got to get to know me sooner or later.’

‘But I won’t be here if he needs anything. He doesn’t know you.’

‘Gemma, it’s time he did.’

She stood, irresolute a few moments. Steve had a point: Rafi did need to get to know his father. Now was as good a time as
any.

Reluctantly, she went to her car and brought in Rafi’s bag. ‘There’s an emergency bottle of formula in the baby bag. You can
warm it up for him. And he loves the apricot-and-rice that’s in there too.’

Steve waved her off. ‘Go on. He’ll be fine. If for some reason he isn’t, I’ll call you and you can come straight back. Okay?’

All the way down to Sapphire Springs, her mind replayed the scenes at Steve’s place. How was she going to deal with her wayward
heart? Things had changed – she’d been there the moment Steve had fallen in love with his son and she knew he would want more
than the distant, financial relationship he’d so far maintained. And what impact would this have on Mike, who was already
sensitive about her relationship with him?

Steve held a biological card that Mike could not trump.

She parked, made sure the medical records were in her bag and hurried across the lawns to the reception area. There was no
one at the desk but the door to Dr Evans’ office stood open and Gemma walked straight in, dropping the medical records on
the desk. ‘Good evening, Dr Evans. These documents came into my possession,’ she said in a rush, ‘and I’m returning them.’

Dr Evans rose from her seat behind her desk, lifting her eyes from the file she’d been reading, her skin starkly pale, her
red lipstick a bloody splash, and her eyes dark with fear as she hastily closed the folder. She hardly glanced at the purloined
medical records as she picked them up, adding them to the one she’d been reading.

‘Ms Lincoln, thank you for coming. I need to talk to you. There are things happening here that—’ Her voice broke off. ‘I don’t
want the police involved at the moment.’

‘I’ll see if I can help you,’ Gemma said, putting down her bag. ‘What is going on?’

‘The other day when I was so upset, I’d just discovered something dreadful – that someone connected to this establishment
had murdered Janet Chancy.’ Even though she’d suspected it, Gemma still felt shocked at Dr Evans’ revelation.

‘Who was it?’

‘I don’t know. But I overheard a conversation that leaves me in no doubt that Janet Chancy was murdered because of something
she discovered here – something that isn’t right.’

‘Something about DiNAH therapy?’

Dr Evans nodded. ‘I’m very worried. Really frightened. But as I said, before I involve the police I want to speak with you.’

Dr Evans’ mobile rang. ‘Yes?’

Gemma watched her face as whoever was on the other end of the line spoke. A moment later, Dr Evans rang off. ‘I have to drop
off these files then go over to the medical supercentre. Come with me. We can talk.’

A security guard glanced up and nodded to Dr Evans as she led Gemma into the building adjoining the supercentre.

‘It’s okay, Jason,’ she said. ‘My visitor has clearance here.’

Gemma followed her down the corridor into the medical-records room that Gemma had been to before. Dr Evans closed the door
behind them, and placed the folders together with the folder she’d been reading on a small table. She’s so preoccupied with
what’s happened, thought Gemma, she’s not even going to ask me where or how I got hold of those folders.

Dr Evans looked up from the table, speaking in a low voice. ‘Ms Lincoln, there’s something going on here that is not right.
It’s already caused the murder of Janet Chancy. Dr Egmont and his surgical team are carrying out procedures that are not being
correctly recorded. I understand that the Russian doctors are used
to doing things in a different way, under different conditions – but there are certain protocols that are standard to medical
practice and as a part owner in the Sapphire Springs Spa resort, I don’t want my reputation and the reputation of this establishment
to become questionable. There will be a shocking scandal when the story breaks about the murder of the journalist and its
connection to my spa. That’s why it’s imperative that I get to the bottom of this.’

Gemma tried to absorb all this information as Dr Evans’ phone rang again. Russian doctors? Was that the connection with Tolmacheff
and the vampire? The Russian mafia in Australia? Is that what Janet had stumbled on?

‘Yes, yes,’ Dr Evans was saying with impatience. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

She rang off and turned to Gemma. ‘I have to go. Please just wait here. I’ll only be a minute or two. Then we can talk without
interruption.’

Gemma put her bag down and looked at the folders Dr Evans had hastily dropped on the table, with the one she’d been reading
on the top. Gemma immediately recognised the crest and the two swans. This was the same folder she’d found in Tolmacheff’s
study, moments before he discovered her.

She pounced on it, opening it as her mobile rang. Lance.

‘Gemma? Sorry for ringing so late. But I’ve got a very brief interim report on those medical records. I thought you’d be interested.’

‘Go on,’ she said, opening the Maxine Wentworth file.

‘I was right: these are human leucocyte antigen tests. But it’s rather puzzling because in this context, the test is related
to tissue typing. It can be used to determine parentage, as in paternity tests.’

Why on earth would they be doing paternity tests here, Gemma thought as Lance continued. ‘There’s a whole lot of very complicated
material here about the sites of genes on chromosomes, but basically it’s about matching antigens from an organ recipient
to those of an organ donor. It’s also used to ascertain compatibility for transplants. The greater the number of identical
HLA antigens between donor and recipient, the greater the possibility of successful transplant, with a decreased risk of rejection.’

‘How’s it done?’ asked Gemma.

‘Either by using DNA methods or serologically,’ Lance replied.

‘Like a blood test?’

‘Usually by blood test. Blood is drawn from a vein. A bit of pressure applied to the puncture site until the bleeding stops
to reduce bruising. That’s the usual way of doing it.’

‘Thanks, Lance.’

She rang off. A puncture wound matched the wound the women had spoken about, she thought. She quickly started to flick through
the folder. Its dense medical and scientific terminology made it difficult to read, let alone understand.