Inheriting Fear

by Sandy Vaile

  Luca turned his face as the pathologist examined the labia.

  Throughout, the pathologist commented on his findings. When he reached Rosalie’s face, he bent closer to study something.

  Luca lifted onto his toes. “What is it?”

  “There are three faint marks on her left cheek. Could be hematomas, but it’s too early to tell. I’ll need to view the body again tomorrow. Let’s see if there is anything else on the head, shall we?”

  Eggles opened the mouth and took various samples, including what appeared to be skin from between her teeth. Finally the team turned Rosalie over, and then Eggles combed her hair to release trace evidence. He made a fastidious search of her scalp and, as he scrutinized the area behind Rosalie’s left ear, his head drew back sharply.

  Luca moved to the pathologist’s side again.

  “Can you see this tiny red dot?” Eggles held hair out of the way so Luca could see.

  “Yes. Needle mark?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “That’s not a usual injection site.” A hundred possibilities, yet he’d have to wait for the report to be sure. Time wasted. Time enough for perpetrators to get away with murder.

  “No, it’s not. I’ll order a full toxicology work-up, but I’ll need a list of medications being administered at the nursing home.”

  “I’ll speak to the director as soon as we’re done here,” Luca promised.

  He stood to one side as the men turned Rosalie onto her back again for the internal examination. No matter how many post-mortems he attended, his stomach never failed to churn as the first incision was made from the right shoulder to the sternum and then down to the pubic bone.

  Rosalie Jensen might actually be a murder victim. Everyone had to sign in and out of Rich Haven, so her attacker should be traceable—theoretically. Every employee just became a suspect, but he didn’t get to be a good detective without going the extra mile. It was the people who came and went on a more casual basis who would be harder to track.

  • • •

  Luca locked the door to the interview room and dropped into a plastic chair opposite Willy Mason. He couldn’t get an appointment with the Rich Haven director for an hour, so putting pressure on the only suspect he had in custody seemed like the best use of his time.

  Even sitting, Willy was considerably taller than Luca. With his thick arms crossed in front of his chest, he was the epitome of cavalier, but the skin around his eyes was taut. Luca had left Willy in a police cell overnight to give him time to reflect on how alone he was in this mess.

  Of course, he didn’t have a scrap of evidence to link Melanie and Kevin to the jewelry scam, so he couldn’t bring them in for questioning, but instinct told him they were connected to Willy somehow. Now all he had to do was prove it.

  He pushed his chair back and paced the blue linoleum floor of the interview room, waiting for Willy to make the first move. It didn’t take long.

  “You can’t keep me here forever.”

  “Oh, I don’t intend to.” With hands flat on the table, he leaned over Willy. “I’m just deciding whether or not to bump the charges up to murder.”

  “What the—” Willy jumped to his feet.

  “Sit down,” Luca spat. He straightened to his full height and held his hands tense at his side.

  Willy grunted and flopped back into the chair. “This is bullshit.”

  “A resident at Rich Haven was murdered yesterday.” He bluffed, because there was no way to be sure until the toxicology results came back, but it was the only leverage he had at this point.

  “I don’t know anything about anyone getting murdered. I told you, I just move the goods.” Willy propped his elbows on the table, looking Luca in the eye.

  It certainly seemed like he was telling the truth.

  “Well, you’d better give me some information that leads to your accomplices real soon, because I’m getting sick of going around in circles with you, Willy.”

  The big man swallowed loudly. “Look, I went to Kevin’s house once, but that’s it.”

  “What was the address?”

  “Um … it was in Holden Hill. List Street, I think.”

  At least Willy wasn’t pulling his chain. “I’ve been there. You’re going to have to tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Bloody hell. I told you, I got my instructions from the mobile phone they gave me.”

  “The phone’s been disconnected. What do you know about Melanie Lane?”

  “She was at Kevin’s house, but she stayed in another room. I didn’t talk to her.”

  “That’s a real shame, Willy, because you just made yourself worthless to me.” Luca turned for the door.

  “Wait!”

  He looked over his shoulder.

  Willy’s voice went up an octave. “I don’t know anything else.”

  Luca stepped over the threshold and locked the door behind him. He instructed the desk sergeant to charge Willy with forgery, theft, and battery. There was no way to make any other charges stick.

  Yet.

  • • •

  “Thanks for bringing me along. I didn’t fancy sitting in the house all day.” Mya picked up a wedge of seedless watermelon from the supermarket fruit bin and sniffed to appraise the sweetness.

  “You’re welcome,” Kate assured her, putting brown field mushrooms into a paper bag.

  She was pretty sure Kate didn’t want to be stuck in the house with her either, but at least shopping was an opportunity to get them all out and Natalie away from the television.

  Natalie wandered ahead of the trolley, more interested in the makeup and glittered coin purses that hung from hooks above the shelves than groceries. Mya felt sorry for her, having all this on her plate at nineteen, but she’d get over it. You could move on from inadvertently being involved in theft. What you couldn’t move on from was the only person you’d ever cared for sitting in a floral armchair drooling for the rest of her life.

  And now Mya didn’t even have that.

  Kate looked less severe out of her cop garb, wearing three-quarter pants and a turquoise T-shirt with Little Miss Helpful written in glitter across the chest.

  “I take it you know Luca pretty well.” Mya tried to appear barely interested in the conversation as she bagged fuzzy peaches.

  “Well enough.”

  “He seems a bit arrogant, but he was attempting to sympathize with me this morning and mentioned his wife. Does he use the widower story a lot?”

  Kate stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned, her lips pulled tight. Great, if she pissed off her ride, she might be stranded at the supermarket.

  “Luca doesn’t say anything unless he means it, and I think he’s well qualified to understand what it’s like to lose someone. At the end of Olivia’s illness he gave up a lot.” She turned her back and continued down the aisle.

  Maybe she should stop talking, but she wanted to know what Kate meant. “Because he lost someone?” Plenty of people lost loved ones.

  With a pronounced huff, Kate said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but Luca nursed Olivia on her deathbed, and he refused to leave her side. It put a considerable dent in his career.”

  Wow. I never would have guessed that.

  Kate’s fingertips were several centimetres shy of a packet of breadcrumbs on the top shelf, so Mya grabbed it.

  Now it made sense, why Luca took her to see her mum yesterday. He knew how important it would be to have that time with her. But seven years was a long time to play the field, which made him either a philanderer or damaged goods—despite what she’d seen of him, she had a hard time believing there was such a thing as a guy who’d be so devastated by losing his wife that he wouldn’t move on in seven years.

  It took her until the checkout line to get the next question out. “He didn’t find someone else?”

  Kate shrugged as she fed cans onto the conveyor belt. “Work is his life now.”

  Something to think on for sure, but she’d be
watching for the real man underneath. The one who might show after a beer or two, or when the going got tough.

  Chapter 30

  The Rich Haven director showed Luca into his office, toddled around to his side of the big mahogany desk, and laboured to squeeze his sizeable frame into an executive chair. Sweat trickled down his temples and his suspenders heaved in and out in time with his breathing.

  Luca sat in a leather tub chair and waited for him to settle.

  Mr. Pratt took a sip of water. “Detective Patterson, my most trusted staff have been following your orders to a T, but I just don’t think there’s anything to find here.”

  “And I appreciate that, but I can be more specific now. I attended the post-mortem on Rosalie Jensen this morning. There was evidence of foul play.”

  The director shifted in his seat and dabbed a white handkerchief along his brow.

  About time the smarmy bastard felt uncomfortable. Letting this sort of thing happen in his establishment was walking the line of negligence.

  “There are a couple of constables in reception waiting to look at your drugs register, specifically anything that can be injected.”

  “Detective, I assume you realize what it means for Rich Haven if it turns out that a drug has been administered inappropriately and the information is made public?”

  “I assume you understand what it means if one of your staff has committed murder?” He glared at the fidgeting man, and then took pity. “Of course, no information will be made public unless absolutely necessary.”

  “I appreciate your discretion. When can the guard be dismissed from Ms. Jensen’s room? It’s making some families nervous.”

  “I’ll dismiss him when I’m finished here.”

  Outside the office, Old and Callum were shifting their weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. They were the same team that processed Rosalie’s room yesterday, so they had an advantage on this search.

  Luca spoke in a low voice. “We need to reconcile the drugs on hand with the register, look for anomalies, make sure the paper trail is airtight.”

  Ten minutes later, a young brunette nurse walked them through the dispensary.

  “This is the register of controlled drugs on the premises,” she said, handing Luca a red folder. “Only registered nurses can administer them and each transaction is recorded.”

  “Where are the drugs stored?”

  “In this locked cabinet.” She tapped on a metal cupboard with double doors.

  “We’re going to need access to that.”

  “Certainly, but I will need to stay in the room while it’s open.”

  “That’s fine. Constable Old will take stock of the cabinet contents while Senior Constable Callum takes a look at your purchasing records.”

  “I can show you electronic versions,” the nurse said, “but if you want to see hard copies, you’ll need to see Beverly. She does all the filing.”

  “I’ll leave you boys to it.” Luca nodded at the constables. “I need to step outside to make a few phone calls.”

  Twenty minutes later he arrived back in the medical supply room to glum faces. “What is it?”

  Old shut the controlled drugs cabinet and shook his head. “Sir, there are two vials of something called succinylcholine missing. Callum checked the purchasing records and, during the past nine months, there is a deficit of six vials. He’s gone to reception to get hard copy documents.”

  “Hell.”

  The nurse’s head was bowed and her fists clenched in her lap.

  “Can you explain how or where these vials have gone?” he asked gently.

  She turned watery chocolate eyes on him, her bottom lip quivering. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. It’s my responsibility, but I always sign the register.”

  “Who else has access to this cabinet?”

  “There’s a registered nurse rostered on for each shift, four of us in total, plus the director, of course. I don’t understand how this could happen. We reconcile the stock regularly.”

  “How often?”

  “Biannually. Oh! I was on holidays the last time an audit was due, so someone else would have done it. Beverly can tell you who.” A tear trickled down her rosy cheek.

  “Can you tell me what you use succini—whatever that drug is called, for?”

  “It’s a neuromuscular blocking agent used for anaesthesia. We call it Sux for short and it’s a Schedule-8 poison, so only a registered nurse can administer it. We keep it on hand for when we occasionally have to intubate patients.” Her voice caught.

  Luca kept his voice as low as possible. “You’ve been a great help. Why don’t you lock the cabinet and take a break? The constables and I will visit Beverly.”

  The nurse bobbed her head up and down, turned the key in the cabinet, and shuffled out the door.

  Old flicked through the pages of the register as they walked back to reception. “It seems one nurse made entries in the register more often than the others. Mightn’t be anything, but I’ll check it out.”

  Callum was at the photocopier behind the reception desk and waved his colleagues over. “Found some interesting stuff in the purchasing records. It seems the drug that went missing is rarely used, but four were ordered two months ago and another four two months before that. Adding those to the last confirmed number from an audit twelve months ago—there are a total of six vials unaccounted for.”

  The hairs on Luca’s arms and scalp stood up. Six vials could mean six victims. Maybe Mya’s suspicions had some basis after all. Good for the case, bad for her.

  “I asked Beverly to show me the audit done six months ago.” Callum shook his head. “Nothing. It seems each person thought someone else was doing it.”

  Luca looked at his watch. “You two stick at it. Get copies of anything and everything you think will be helpful, send samples of handwriting to forensics for comparison, and talk to the other three registered nurses. I’ll brief the rest of the team if you can’t get back to the station by four.”

  He wouldn’t have time to get back to Kate’s house and check on Mya, although he desperately wanted to. It had been a challenge to stay focused all day with visions of her hunting down Rhonda on her own plaguing him. With any luck she had taken his advice and stayed put. Whether she was coping, he was less confident about.

  • • •

  Mya turned metal skewers under the grill and pulled warm plates from the oven.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Kate said for the hundredth time.

  “I know, and you didn’t have to let me stay here. I want to say thanks and food is how I do it best.”

  Kate hovered by the sink.

  “You can tip the rice into the colander and give it a rinse, if you like,” Mya said as she stirred a caramel-coloured brew in a saucepan and turned off the gas flame under the wok.

  She spread four warm plates across the bench and spooned a line of rice onto each, arranged two chicken skewers on top, and drizzled satay sauce over them, pouring the remainder into a gravy boat. Then she piled stir-fried vegetables on the side. “Grub’s up,” she called as she carried plates to the table.

  Everyone took their seats and dug in. Kate’s husband was as aloof as he’d been since they arrived.

  They turned to the sound of a knock on the glass sliding door. Luca waved from the other side, making Mya’s heart flutter. She turned her attention back to serving the food, trying to suppress the unwelcome excitement at seeing him. It must be because he’d have more information about her mum. That was it.

  Kate let Luca in. “You’re in time for dinner,” she said.

  “Thanks.” He slid into a chair beside Natalie.

  Mya reached for another plate and served a meal for Luca. Luckily, she’d made extra. With a plate balanced on her forearm and one in each hand, she carried them to the table.

  “That’s tricky,” Natalie commented.

  “Years in hospitality.” Mya chose the empty chair opposite Luca in preference to sitting
beside him. More chance to look at him and less of inadvertently brushing against him.

  “Looks good,” Luca said.

  The meal was mostly undertaken in silence. Natalie kept her eyes on her plate, occasionally spinning a costume ring around her finger. Luca picked up a skewer with his finger and pulled chicken off the end with his teeth. It was probably her imagination, but his face looked different today. Softer. Kinder. What would it be like to have someone care so deeply about you that he’d nurse you on your deathbed?

  “These veggies are delicious.” Kate nodded her approval. “Nice and crisp. What flavour’s on them?”

  Mya smiled her appreciation. “Ginger, garlic, and oyster sauce.” At the Croydon Hotel, she didn’t get to see the pleasure her food brought to people. It was nice to watch their faces.

  Luca put his cutlery down. “So, Natalie, a couple of families at Rich Haven came forth to report fake jewelry. I’d like to take you to the station tomorrow and see if they are pieces you made. The more evidence we have against Willy, the more firmly we can make the charges stick.”

  Natalie nodded and fingered her crisp, white collar. “Sure, that’s good.” It sounded like she was asking.

  “It would help if you could remember any visitors to the Mason house, or conversations you overheard. I need to find Willy’s partners fast.”

  “I’ve been thinking, but I don’t remember nothing.”

  “Even the smallest detail can help.” Luca pressed for more.

  Natalie’s mouth turned down and a pattern formed on her rigid chin. “Luca, do I have to go to the old people’s house next week?”

  He chewed his tongue as he scrutinized her. “No. No you don’t. You can live wherever you like, but I didn’t think you had any other options.”

  “I don’t.” Natalie slumped.

  The young woman had a lot of grown-up decisions ahead of her and no one to help her make them. Mya’s heart gave a little squeeze.

  “I can understand your trepidation, but this really is a good opportunity,” Luca told her. “These folks are very nice, and they’ll make sure you’re well looked after. They’ll help you find a job, and when you’re on your feet they’ll help you find more suitable accommodation. It’s not a detention centre.”