Death by Beauty (30 page)

She crouched down and crept past the window, tiptoeing towards her wardrobe and her bag hanging inside. She felt her way to
the Glock and lifted it out, its weight comforting in her sweaty hands. With the gun in a firm grasp, Gemma slid low along
the floor until she came to the window again. She ducked back, then looked: partially obscured by a large shrub, a dim
figure hunched over the bike that Hugo had propped against the wall. A petty thief, Gemma thought with relief.

She went to the front door and flung it open, switching on the outdoor light. ‘Hey you! What do you think you’re doing?’

The figure straightened up and looked around.

‘Hugo? What the hell are you doing? Where have you been? You haven’t taken Mike’s bike again – after what you did to it last
time?’

‘It’s okay. I’m putting it back.’

He hurried inside and Gemma stepped back in surprise. She closed the door, and surreptitiously tucked the Glock into her jeans,
under her jumper, as Hugo walked ahead of her.

‘You took it again. Did you ask Mike? Hugo, that’s not acceptable. Mike spent a lot of time fixing it.’

‘I
had
to, Gemma. I followed Lorraine Litchfield after her meeting with you.’

‘You
what
?’

‘And when you and Angie were talking near the jetty, wasting time while she got away, I followed her. I’ve got some valuable
information. And a photograph.’

Gemma’s anger dissipated. ‘You’d better tell me about it,’ she said finally.

‘First, I’ll need food.’

First, second and third, she thought.

While Gemma heated up the chicken casserole that Mike had made, Hugo wolfed down two bananas and almost half a loaf of sliced
bread, smothered in butter and peanut butter, leaning against the counter, detailing his surveillance.

‘I followed the Litchfield chick to a restaurant–bar kind of place at Kings Cross. Lost her a few times but made it up at
the
lights. She had a meeting with this dude at the tables outside. Then they were joined by this other big guy. I managed to
get a photograph of them as I cruised past.’

‘Show me.’

Gemma stared at the small mobile screen. At Indigo Ice cafe, the very same place where she and Tolmacheff had met, she saw
him again, this time with two companions. Across the table from him was Lorraine Litchfield. Gemma felt her heart start to
race. Litchfield and Tolmacheff knew each other! But, she thought, this wasn’t really surprising. There’s a certain amount
of overlap in the criminal world, Angie always says. Ninety per cent of crime is carried out by ten per cent of the population.
The third man she didn’t know. Broad shouldered and hulking, the heavy figure was leaning towards Lorraine as if in intimate
conversation. Gemma studied his face carefully, using the zoom to come in closer. A dark blemish under his left eye.

With a thrill of shock, Gemma realised who she was looking at.

The vampire
.

She recalled Lorraine’s words. ‘
There’s someone on your case … You are terminal
.’

Was she talking about Tolmacheff? Or even worse, the vampire? A thrill of fear momentarily tightened in her chest.

‘Well? Don’t you think I did good?’ said Hugo, noticing her intent interest in the photograph.

‘You sure did, Hugo. Why didn’t you bring this to me straight away?’

‘Dad wanted me to stay at his place to help clear out his attic. That’s where he’s going to build my bedroom,’ he said. ‘I
wasn’t going to tell him what I’d been doing and that I couldn’t help him.’

Hugo had gathered evidence linking Litchfield and Tolmacheff with the vampire. The vampire linked to Mischa. And to Brie.
Tolmacheff had a partly burned photograph of Brie in his office wastepaper bin. This photograph taken by the Ratbag brought
a lot of things together. ‘You did very well, Hugo.’

Shortly after, Gemma left the sleeping household and drove to Indigo Ice, parking in the underground car park behind the police
station and walking across the park towards Macleay Street.

Staying well back, she observed the cafe but couldn’t see the trio. She was about to give up, disappointed even though there
was no reason they should be back there again, when she saw three men: the vampire, Tolmacheff and a man with his back to
her. She used the groups of people still strolling the streets as cover and walked around until she could see the third man:
Tolmacheff’s son. She sat on a bench nearby and waited. Finally, Tolmacheff and the young man stood up and walked away, leaving
the vampire sitting alone. He pulled out his mobile and it appeared as if he was answering rather than making a call. When
it was finished, he walked over to the counter and paid.

Gemma called Angie. ‘I know you’re off duty,’ she said to the message bank, ‘and trying to get some sleep, but I’ve found
the vampire. He’s connected to both Tolmacheff and Lorraine
Litchfield. I’m going to follow him now from the Cross. I’ll keep you posted.’ She said the last few words in a rush because
the vampire was on the move, striding purposefully down Macleay Street, passing without noticing her, head forward on his
thick neck, deeply intent on getting somewhere quickly.

This is the man inextricably linked to the murdered women, Gemma thought, the man who assaulted Annabel Carr, the man who’d
tried to attack Brie a second time. I mustn’t lose him.

Within a few minutes Gemma realised he was heading to the underground car park.

Staying back and walking softly, she followed him, down to the second level where he was heading towards a car right at the
other end. What am I going to do now? she thought. She didn’t dare go back and get her car because by that time, she might
have lost him. Her best bet was to stay where she was and take down his car’s registration number. Of course it would be useless
if the car was stolen, or borrowed, but she didn’t have much choice. She heard a door slam and an engine start up, and saw
the reverse lights as the car backed out, turned and started to drive away.

As it did, Gemma felt all hope for Mischa drain away. The car that was driving towards the exit was the pale green Peugeot,
BAW 06Z. Gemma hurried back to her car. Somehow, Mischa had been tricked into getting into that car. They must have worked
as a pair, Gemma thought: the vampire on the street near Mischa’s house, and an accomplice driving. An accomplice Mischa knew
and trusted.

Gemma left another message: ‘Ange. Mischa Bloomfield is in great danger. The Peugeot might be registered to someone in Belambi,
but it’s currently being driven by the vampire!’

Angie called back early next morning. ‘We’ve got everyone out looking for that Peugeot,’ she said. ‘I door-knocked the neighbours
who live near Elizabeth Winchester and discovered that sometimes the Peugeot isn’t around and Elizabeth gets a lift. She works
at a hospital, according to the old fellow next door.’

Someone who works at a hospital, Gemma thought. Someone who’s forensically savvy. She started to feel the exhilaration that
comes with getting closer to solving a case. Her mind was holding a huge amount of information, an incomprehensible set of
seemingly unrelated events and people, and yet she knew that with the right catalyst, these shapes would come together and
lock into position, forming the perfect pattern: the truth of what was really going on.

Hanging up from Angie she checked her emails and saw a name she didn’t recognise at first, then it dawned on her. Dr Andrew
Morphett, the palynologist, had sent through his findings.

The email was headed: ‘Pollen profile’.

The first page consisted of statistical data, numbers and types of pollens found, and botanical names that meant little to
her. She skimmed down, bringing her attention to the last section.

‘
After several wash cycles, I found various pollens and debris: some rainforest plants and dry eucalypt forest, including blackbuttapple
shale forest, scribbly gum woodland and temperate rainforest, silvertop ash forests and turpentine forests. However, I did
find one anomaly – an extremely rare species
– Daviesia suaveolens,
commonly known as the bitter pea. As far as I know, this is the first time it has been found so far north, usually being
restricted to the south of the state. I took samples from the crime scene where Rachel Starr’s
body was found. There is no source of this rare plant here and none showed up in samples taken from various sites in the area.
Despite Marie-Louise Palier’s clothing having been submerged in sea water for some time, successful profiles were recovered
and traces of
Daviesia suaveolens
were also present
.

‘
I draw attention to this particular variety of pollen appearing on both victims’ clothes as it could well turn out to be a
marker when the original crime scene is finally located. Apart from this strange and extremely rare intruder, this profile
is typical of the Illawarra Escarpment between Stanwell Tops and Bulli
.’

Gemma opened the images of the bitter pea plant that accompanied the text – a modest yellow and reddish pea flower – and was
trying to make sense of the report when she heard a sudden noise in the living room behind her. She swung round, spooked.
‘Hugo! I thought you were still asleep!’

He stood awkward and gangly, his long T-shirt hanging on him, the heavy eyebrows and the worried eyes. ‘I had a nightmare.
It woke me up. I saw this forensic science show about a guy who’d been eaten by an anaconda. They had to use DNA profiling
on the remains inside the anaconda to prove who the person was inside the big snake. I dreamed I was being swallowed by this
huge python. I knew that you’d come and cut it open and find me inside but it would be too late to save me.’

‘I’d come and get you before the python was able to swallow you,’ she said. ‘And anyway, there are no pythons round here.’

‘It was like a huge big leech just sucking me down.’ He shuddered.

‘There was a case in Tasmania,’ she started to say, as Hugo collapsed back onto the lounge, pulling the doona over him, pushing
the iPod’s earplugs into his ears, ‘where the blood inside
a leech was used to identify an offender at the scene …’ Gemma’s thoughts consolidated.

After her drive to Rafi’s daycare centre, Gemma threw herself into attacking a mountain of neglected washing, searching under
the lounge and chairs to find Rafi’s little T-shirts and socks and even one of Hugo’s singlets. Once the washing was under
way, she went into her office, took a look at her desk, sighed and got to work. But something from her conversation with Hugo
concerning his nightmare kept bothering her, and she couldn’t put it out of her mind.

It took her most of the day to straighten the house and catch up with her work. She went shopping before picking up Rafi and
while he cruised around the kitchen, she cooked a rich tomato and basil spaghetti sauce.

She bathed and fed Rafi, then put him to bed just as Mike arrived home to say goodnight to him. He tiptoed out and Gemma patted
Rafi to sleep.

They were just sitting down to eat when Hugo turned up.

‘Something smells wicked,’ he said.

‘Get yourself a plate,’ said Gemma, noticing Mike’s resigned look. ‘There’s more sauce in the pot. You might have to cook
some more pasta.’

Much later, when Mike had gone to bed and Hugo was half-asleep on the lounge, listening to music, Gemma stared sightlessly
at
Lateline
. She was still plagued by the feeling that there was something in the conversation about the dream, something that she needed
to remember. She tried going over the details: Hugo telling her about the anaconda. She saying how she’d get to him
before it was able to swallow him … Hugo saying it was like a huge leech … she talking about the case in Tasmania where the
blood inside a leech had been successfully analysed to place an offender at a crime scene …

The blood inside a leech
…

The DNA on the arrow brooch hadn’t been conclusive. If she could just prove that Mischa had been in that cabin at Sapphire
Springs, Angie could get the resources she’d need for a proper forensic search of the whole place – especially the forbidden
medical block, with its records and lab books detailing everything that went into the creation of the DiNAH therapy.

‘Come on,’ Gemma said abruptly, pulling out Hugo’s earplugs and wrenching the doona off him. ‘Hugo, wake up and put your jeans
on. I’m going to need an assistant. You’re always saying you want to work in a security business – here’s your chance! I’ll
grab my camera and rape kit.’

‘Rape kit? What do you mean? Where are we going?’