by Chris Taylor
Once again, Georgie interrupted his thoughts. “It’d better go. I have babies due for a feeding.”
“Of course,” he replied and then remembered his earlier question. “I was wondering if you could tell me whether Cynthia has been tested for STDS? I’m concerned because of her lifestyle and…”
His voice petered off in embarrassment, but Georgie appeared to take his question in her stride.
“Of course. You have reason to be concerned. And yes, to answer your question, it’s hospital policy to run blood tests for STDs. Cynthia’s results came back clear. It’s only the HIV and Hepatitis results that take longer. She’ll need to be retested in three months and then again at six months, to be sure.”
Cam compressed his lips, but nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate you letting me know.”
“No problem. I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
With a surge of anticipation and heartfelt thanks, Cam smiled and ended the call.
Holt strode toward him. “The premier’s waiting downstairs. I’ll bring him up and put him in Interview Room Two.”
Cam’s pleasant thoughts scattered like the wind and once again, he focused on the job at hand and got down to business.
CHAPTER SIX
Cam stared across at the premier and tried hard to hide his disbelief. The portly, balding leader of the State Government got redder and redder in the face as he continued to blister Cam’s ears.
“I’m telling you, Detective Sergeant Dawson, there’s something evil going on in that hospital! My grandson was born perfectly healthy. I was right outside the birthing suite when he drew his first breath. My daughter spent hours holding him and marvelling over every little thing. Both the midwife and the doctor gave him the all clear. When I left that hospital a little after eight, there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. And now he’s dead—from SIDS, apparently. At least, that’s what they’re telling us. I don’t believe it for a minute.”
Premier John Jamison’s legendary piercing gaze settled with uncomfortable intensity on Cameron who did his best not to squirm. So far, the man had insisted the hospital was involved in everything from stealing innocent babies and selling them overseas to outright murder. At the moment, he appeared to have returned to his earlier conspiracy theory that staff members of the maternity ward were involved in procuring children to sell on the black market.
“It’s big business, Detective,” the premier continued matter-of-factly. “I’ve read about what happens in countries like the Philippines. Everything’s up for sale, including children. Why would Australia be any different? My grandson was a normal, healthy newborn. The next day, they said he was dead.”
“Did you see his body?”
“No. I wasn’t there when they brought my daughter the news. They told her very early in the morning.”
“What about your daughter? Did she have time with her deceased child? I understand many hospitals allow that kind of thing.”
“Not as far as I know. Danielle’s understandably in shock. She can’t remember a lot of what was said even though it only happened two days ago. She’s still having trouble with the whole thing. I had to call my doctor and have him prescribe something to help calm her down. She’s been inconsolable.” Once again, he turned his steely eyed gaze on Cameron.
“I demand that something be done, Detective. I want that hospital closed down and the management arrested!”
Cam sucked in a deep breath and exhaled on a heavy sigh. He knew all about supporting a loved one through the loss of a child, but this circumstance still didn’t mean that the hospital was to blame. The premier’s demands to shut down the largest and most prestigious hospital in the country—based on not a scrap of evidence of wrongdoing—was almost laughable, but Cam knew better than to give the man any indication his concerns weren’t being taken seriously.
“Mr Jamison,” he said quietly. “How old is your daughter?”
The man looked down at his hands, where they were twisted in his lap. “She’s eighteen.”
Cam hid his surprise and asked his next question. “Do you think she’d be well enough to come to the station and make a statement? With all due respect, you’ve admitted you weren’t there when she was told about her baby’s death. It might help clarify a few matters if I can speak with her directly.”
The premier kept his gaze averted. “I told you, she isn’t handling things very well. She’s still grieving deeply for the loss of her child. We all are.”
“I understand, Premier, but if you want me to investigate, I still need to speak with her while her memory is fresh. The longer we wait, the more likely she’ll forget certain details and it could be something important.”
This time, a dark red flush started at the premier’s neck and spread across his face. His fidgeting got worse and Cam couldn’t help but wonder why he appeared to be so uncomfortable.
“The thing is,” the premier began, “Danielle’s not the most reliable of witnesses. She’s… She’s had a drug problem for the past few years. Her mother and I have been doing what we can to find her help and get her off the stuff, but it’s been an uphill battle. The truth is, right now she doesn’t want to get clean.”
Cam stared at the premier in surprise. He’d had no idea the politician’s daughter was a drug addict. He shook his head in silent commiseration. It just went to show, no matter where someone fit in society’s hierarchy, no family was immune to stress and heartache. He could only be grateful Cynthia hadn’t gone down that track.
“I appreciate what you’re saying, Mr Jamison and I’m very sorry to hear about the difficulties your family have faced, but I really need to speak with Danielle and find out what she knows. I assume there was a funeral?”
“Yes.”
“Who made the arrangements?”
“I did.”
“Where was it held?”
“A staff member of the hospital gave Danielle a business card with the name of a funeral home printed on it. The Peaceful Passing Funeral Parlor and Crematorium on the corner of Booth Street and Parramatta Road. We held a private service on site. The baby was cremated.”
Cam nodded. Cynthia had done the same thing and at the very same venue. At the time, Cam hadn’t thought to ask her about her choice of funeral home. Now, he could only assume she’d also received a recommendation from the hospital. He admired their thoughtful and sensitive approach during such a difficult situation. It was kind of them to smooth the way at such a distressing time. Many young patients, lost in their grief, wouldn’t know where to start or even to have anywhere to turn.
Cam sighed softly. Sometimes life just handed out shit and you had to deal with it as best you could. There was no other way around it. Wishing he had something better to offer the premier, he leaned his elbows on the desk and shot the man a sympathetic look.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Premier, and I wish I could help you with this, but until I speak with Danielle, I don’t even know for sure the true facts. You’ve admitted you weren’t there when the baby died. You think your daughter wasn’t given time with her son after he died, but you’re not certain of that, either.” He dragged in a breath and continued, keeping his gaze on the premier’s, trying to make the man see.
“I’d appreciate if you’d call me so we can set up a meeting—when Danielle is feeling up to it. I understand she’s still grieving and her memory might not be up to scratch, but unfortunately, I do need to hear her side of the story before I can proceed.”
The premier’s gaze narrowed and another angry flush climbed up his neck and spread across his face. “So, until then, you’re going to do nothing. Is that what you’re telling me?”
Cam bit back a sigh. What the hell did the man expect of him? He opened his mouth to pose the curt question and then closed it again. Aggravating the premier wouldn’t get him anywhere and would only exacerbate the man’s already raw nerves.
In exasperation, he said, “If you like, I can speak with Deborah Healy.
She’s the General Manager of the Sydney Harbour Hospital. I’ll see what she knows about your grandson’s death.”
“Ha! Deborah Healy!” he scoffed. “After everything that’s gone down at her hospital over the past few years, I’m surprised she’s still in a job. Besides, I’ve already spoken to her. You’re wasting your time. She looked me in the eye, offered a few meaningless platitudes and then toed the party line.”
The premier’s voice cracked with emotion, as if the situation had finally gotten to him. Suddenly the tension went out of his shoulders and he leaned over the interview table with his head in his hands. A harsh sob escaped him, quickly followed by several more. Cam glanced around him, feeling helpless.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? The State’s leader was crying like a baby right in front of him, with no apparent end to his distress in sight. Where was the man’s assistant or someone else who could come to his aid? Cam didn’t have a clue how to go about offering him comfort.
The door to the interview room swung open and Holt filled the space. Cam didn’t bother to hide his relief. “Superintendent, it’s good to see you. Is there something I can help you with?”
“You’re needed in the squad room, Detective. I’ll finish with Mr Jamison.”
Cam flashed his boss a look of gratitude and got the hell out of the room. Flinging himself down at his desk, he replayed the scene in his head. Though what he’d said to the premier was correct, the thought of another dead baby sent a trickle of unease down his spine. His niece had died a fortnight ago. Now, a second baby had died. How many more had there been?
The thought was so sudden and awful, he didn’t know where it had come from. It was followed quickly by another: Had Cynthia been given time with her dead baby? The day he’d reunited with her, a matter of hours after Josephine’s death, it hadn’t occurred to him to enquire after her child. He’d still been struggling to come to terms with her discovery in a Sydney hospital and the fact that she’d recently given birth.
Her surprise and joy over their reunion had dissipated all too soon and her grief over the loss of her child returned with a vengeance. It was all he could do to arrange for her discharge from the hospital and settle her in his home. He hadn’t dared ask her any questions beyond what was necessary, for fear of upsetting her. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder once again if she’d been given the opportunity to say good-bye to her baby.
His sense of unease grew stronger. He had nothing whatsoever to base the feeling on, but he knew with increasing certainty that he’d have to look closer at the occurrence of newborn deaths at the Sydney Harbour Hospital.
Earlier, he’d been eager to dismiss the premier’s claims as farcical, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt he owed it to Cynthia and the premier to dig a little deeper and be certain that what they’d been told was the truth. Then all of them could put the matter to rest and focus on the future.
He hadn’t asked the premier what ward his daughter had been admitted to or the names of any of the staff members she’d come into contact with, but Cam could always obtain that information from the hospital records—if it came to that. He only hoped it hadn’t happened on Ward Seven and that Georgie Whitely wasn’t involved. Losing two babies in as many weeks would be devastating for anyone, let alone someone who cared for her patients as deeply as she did.
He remembered her recent promise to help his sister. It was just another example of her kindness and compassion. With a soft sigh, he reached for the phone that perched in one corner of his desk and dialed his home number. It rang out. He dialed again and received the same result.
He cursed quietly under his breath. Either his sister was asleep, or she couldn’t be bothered answering the phone. He was depressed by the knowledge that either scenario could be the reality—yet another reason why he needed to do something more to penetrate her lethargy.
Replacing the phone in its cradle, he forced the problem of his sister’s mental status from his mind. Despite what the premier had said about Deborah Healy, Cameron had a healthy respect for the general manager. It was true her hospital had come under fire in recent years. One of the hospital’s reputable doctor’s had been found guilty of domestic abuse, but Cam didn’t lay the blame for this at Deborah Healy’s feet. No one knew what went on behind other people’s closed doors. He’d been in the police service less than six months when he’d realized that.
There was of course, the matter of the head of the Organ Donation for Transplantation Unit being arrested on charges of human-tissue harvesting and several other related offenses. The fact the doctor had been using Sydney Harbour Hospital patients for his tissue supply had been an awful discovery and had been given serious air time in the media. And then there was the doctor who’d been playing God and murdering patients. The hospital and the general manager had rightly come under fire, but still…
Being the head of such a large, prestigious hospital was a task of mammoth proportions. She was responsible for the actions of thousands of staff members, from the cleaners and kitchen staff, right through to the head surgeons. She was expected to be aware of each and every little thing that went on in her hospital, but was it really feasible that one person could find enough hours in the day to do so?
Cam shook his head, feeling grim. There was no doubt about it: Deborah Healy had a tough gig. It was a job he wouldn’t want for all the money in the world. But he’d told the premier he’d talk to the general manager about the sudden and unexpected death of Jamison’s grandson, so he reached for the phone again and this time, dialed the number for the hospital. It was answered after the first ring.
“Good morning, the Sydney Harbour Hospital. Can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak with the general manager, please.”
“I’ll put you through to Deborah Healy’s assistant.”
A moment later, the call was picked up again. “Deborah Healy’s office.”
Cameron gave his name to the receptionist and was put on hold once again. He waited on the other end of the phone for so long, he was almost convinced the woman had hung up on him. He was just about to disconnect and redial when the call was answered.
“Deborah Healy.”
“Ms Healy, it’s Detective Sergeant Cameron Dawson. I’m making enquires about the recent death of the infant son of Danielle Jamison.”
The woman’s tone sharpened. “The premier’s daughter?”
“Yes. I met with the premier a short time ago. He expressed a number of…concerns.”
“My staff informed me about the death of his grandson. I expressed my deepest sympathies to his family. Incredibly sad. It’s hard for any of us to accept that unexpected and unexplained deaths sometimes happen, particularly when the victim is a baby.”
“You think that’s all this is? A reaction to profound grief?”
“We all deal with grief in our own way, Detective. Lashing out and blaming those around us, particularly those who had the child in their care, is a natural response. It doesn’t mean there’s anything of substance to his claims.”
“Did the baby undergo an autopsy?”
“No. I understand one was offered, but Ms Jamison declined, as is her right in these circumstances.”
“When did the premier speak with you?”
“He demanded to see me immediately after he’d been informed of the baby’s death. I, of course, made time for him. I hadn’t had the chance to be fully briefed by my staff at that point, but I knew the basic facts and I wanted to reassure him the hospital was there for him and his daughter.
“Naturally, he was upset. I let him have his say. I offered my condolences. He… He didn’t appear interested in accepting them. He left my office in a great deal of distress. I let him go. There was nothing I could do to bring the child back. Though we don’t like when it happens, babies still sometimes die for sudden and unexplained reasons. Only time can heal the pain.”
“It’s very sad for everyone involved, but if you don’t
mind, I’d like to obtain a copy of Danielle Jamison’s hospital records.”
Her tone grew a whole lot more frosty. “Whatever for?”
“I’m curious.”
“About what?”
Cameron thought for a moment. He had no idea what he was looking for and certainly wasn’t ready to disclose anything yet. For all he knew, there was nothing to investigate. Best to make sure before he made anything public or put the general manager offside unnecessarily. He kept his answer purposefully vague.
“I promised the premier.”
From her disgruntled response, it was obvious she wasn’t pleased with his reply, but for now, it was all he was prepared to give.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Georgie swung her little Mazda into the driveway of the garage beneath her apartment block and parked in her designated spot. After another long day at work, she couldn’t wait to slip off her shoes and kick back on the couch with a drink in one hand and the TV remote in the other.
She lived on the third floor of an older style block of units surrounded by ancient fig trees and many smaller varieties of shrubs and bushes. The greenery shaded most of the building, reminding her of her childhood home up in the Blue Mountains. Though her parents had been prepared to advance her additional funds from her trust account in order to upgrade to more modern lodgings, she’d turned them down in favor of the unit on Bellevue Road.
Now, climbing the stairs with her arms laden with groceries, she thought wistfully of a newer standard apartment that came with elevators, but as soon as she turned her key in the lock and stepped over the threshold, any thoughts of leaving her spacious unit evaporated.
With her modest nursing wage only stretching so far, she’d used a small amount of money from her trust fund to purchase tasteful, but expensive furniture. She’d spent more money than she probably should have, but she was well pleased with the result.