The Dark Series

by Catherine Lee

  Quinn opened his notebook again. “Anything else?” he said as he wrote down Cooper’s request.

  “Yeah. Get Anderson and Baxter to talk to Beth again about Jill’s move over to the Foundation. See if she can shed any more light, now that the immediate shock is over. And I think we’ll have another talk to David tomorrow ourselves. Him and his father, I don’t like either of them.”

  Quinn was about to say something when he was interrupted by Michael.

  “Uncle Joey! How come you’re at our house again?”

  “Michael, that’s not polite,” said Cooper, although he couldn’t help smiling. His son was right, come to think of it. Quinn did seem to spend a lot of time with them.

  “I just can’t get enough of your huggles, little man,” answered Quinn, lifting Michael into the air and giving him a big squeeze on the way down. “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you helping Mummy get dinner ready?”

  “I am. She said to come and get you, it’s ready!”

  “Okay,” said Cooper. “You go back and tell Mummy we’ll be right there.”

  “Gotcha, Dad.” Michael gave the thumbs up signal he’d just spent the whole weekend perfecting, then raced back into the house. Cooper and Quinn packed up the chairs and followed.

  “So what do you make of this genetic stuff at the Foundation, then?” asked Quinn as they took their seats at the table.

  “What genetic stuff?” said Liz.

  Cooper explained that their latest victim had been scheduled to start work at the Timothy Fisher Genetic Research Foundation, which had been named for her late cousin.

  “I know that place,” said Liz. “Professor Keane has been doing a lot of work with stem cells recently. He’s just published a paper on differentiation.”

  “He tried to explain some of it to us. I don’t know about you, boss, but I’m not afraid to admit it went over my head.” Quinn helped himself to a huge mound of mashed potatoes.

  “Stem cells are special because they can replicate and differentiate,” explained Liz. “That means that they multiply, and when necessary the new cells differentiate into the type of cell the body requires. There’s a company in the US that’s been using cloning techniques to develop new kidneys for cows. They reckon they’ll be able to do it for humans in a few years’ time.”

  “Cloning? Are they in an ethical grey area there?” asked Cooper.

  “Of course. There’s a whole lot of controversy surrounding the research. But it’s not as bad as it sounds. For the cow experiment they took an unfertilised egg from a donor cow, and, after removing the DNA of the donor cow, injected it with skin cells from the ‘sick’ cow. They then grew an embryo in the lab, complete with embryonic stem cells from the donor egg, which they were then able to differentiate into kidney cells.”

  “So they just grew a cow kidney in a lab?” asked Quinn.

  “Pretty much. They got the kidney cells to grow on an artificial scaffold they’d made, which was biodegradable.”

  “Biodegradable — so it just disappears after a while.”

  “That’s the plan.” Liz reached over to cut up the rest of the chicken on Michael’s plate. Patrick was doing a great job of feeding himself in his highchair, even if it was with his hands. “And because they’ve been injected with the ‘sick’ cow’s DNA, there’s no rejection.”

  “How did they get the stem cells to differentiate into kidney cells?” asked Quinn. Cooper gave him a look. “What? I may not have fully understood the professor, but I remember him saying that if they could harness that process in the lab, they could get stem cells to grow into whatever part of the body they want them to be. I got the feeling it hadn’t been achieved yet, but Liz is saying these guys with the cows have done it.”

  “That’s what they’re claiming,” she answered, “but they’re keeping their technique a secret at this stage. You can imagine the money involved in being able to create human organs. No more waiting for someone to die to get your new heart or lung.”

  The mention of money got Cooper’s interest. “So there’d be a race on to be the first to do this, wouldn’t there? If there’s that much money in it.”

  “Of course.”

  “So how are we going in that race? How does the Tim Fisher Foundation figure into it?”

  “As far as I know Professor Keane and his team are leading the Australian charge for this research. His paper on differentiation doesn’t give away too many clues, but I get the feeling they’re almost as close as the Americans. It’s hard when it comes to testing with human embryos, though.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Cooper.

  “All the ethical issues come into play. About the only way to get ovum — eggs — for research purposes is to have the unwanted embryos from IVF donated by the parents. As you can imagine, that’s quite a limited supply.”

  “You said the cow eggs were unfertilised. Do they need embryos, or just eggs?”

  “Just eggs, really. But it’s illegal in this country for a woman to sell her eggs for research, or any other purpose. She can donate them, but without financial incentive there’s little reason to do so and a number of reasons not to, including risk of illness. So there’s an all-round shortage of eggs to experiment on.”

  “Sounds complicated,” said Quinn.

  “It gets even more complicated. There’s a technique being trialled which can turn adult stem cells into embryonic-like stem cells, so the need for eggs might disappear altogether. They’re called human-induced pluripotent stem cells. Basically, they’ve figured out how to reprogram adult cells like skin cells to an embryonic state.”

  Cooper was confused. “So why are they doing the cow thing with the embryos if they can do it this other way?”

  “Because the human-induced pluripotent stems cells are a lot harder to work with. Embryonic stem cells are, at this stage, still thought to be the way to go. But the point is, the technology is advancing so fast that it’s reasonable to assume designer body organs aren’t that far away. Whoever wins that race is going to be both incredibly rich and incredibly famous.”

  They finished the meal in silence, or as much silence as there can be when dining with toddlers. Quinn kept Michael busy with questions about preschool while Cooper contemplated what he’d just learnt. It was interesting, sure, but Jill Fisher hadn’t even started working at the Foundation yet. He couldn’t see that any of this was relevant to the case. Tomorrow they’d reinterview David and Robert Fisher, and try to get to the bottom of why Jill was changing jobs.

  11

  Beth cast a glance around the church before taking her seat in the front pew between Louis and Jacob. The kids both looked so smart in their best outfits. Jacob had on the little suit he wore to a friend’s wedding three months ago, and Emily had insisted on wearing the dress with the purple flowers Aunty Jill had loved so much. They were troopers, her two little angels, although Beth wasn’t sure exactly how much they understood of what was going on. Her own mother and father were seated on Emily’s left, her mother holding Emily’s hand so tight she could see the whiteness of her knuckles. Em didn’t complain, though. Bless her. Perhaps she understood more than Beth did herself.

  The service was nice, although she didn’t catch too much of it. Five days ago her world was turned upside down, and as much as she tried to get into the spirit of celebrating Jill’s life, she just couldn’t get past the ache crushing her heart. It was wrong, so wrong that Jill had been taken from them. On her way in Beth had seen the two detectives who’d been so kind to her in the previous days, Meg and Flynn, seated in the back of the church. They’d told her they’d be here, of course, saying it was about support for her and her family. But Beth wasn’t naive. She knew they were here to look for suspects. The police always suspect the family of a murder victim, and the Fisher family had its own unique history in that regard. But just like all those years ago, she couldn’t possibly believe that a member of her family had done that to Jill. She hoped the police would hurry up and cat
ch the bastard who was responsible. She feared her family would never recover if they didn’t.

  “Beth?” her mother nudged her. “It’s time to go.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Beth pulled herself out of the haze and took Jacob’s hand. They walked out of the church as a family, following behind Jill’s coffin. Her father and Louis, her Uncle Robert and cousin David, and a couple of Jill’s friends from her university days were the pallbearers. Beth’s tears flowed as she watched them carry Jill down the aisle and gently place her in the back of the hearse for her final journey. She would be buried in the Fisher family plot out at Rookwood Cemetery, and Beth managed a smile as she thought of Jill buried alongside some of the ancestors she was so keen on researching. Her sister would have found that so appropriate.

  The funeral service had been well attended by the employees of Fisher & Co, many of whom might as well be family. Beth wondered how many were left at the office, if any. She was pleased that her good friend Gail sought her out after the grave-side service.

  “She would have loved being the centre of attention like this, don’t you think?” said Gail, taking Beth by the arm and squeezing tight.

  “She’s probably waiting for us all to piss off so she can have a good old chat with the rest of these guys,” said Beth.

  “Yeah, I bet they could finish off the family tree for her, no problem.”

  Beth smiled. Gail had been friends with both her and Jill, having worked with them both at different times. In fact it was often Gail who told Beth what her little sister had been up to these days. They used to go out together as a threesome all the time, but with pressure on Beth and work increasing, it was more often that she had to miss out. She regretted that now, of course. She should have made more time for her sister.

  “Come on,” said Gail. “Let’s go have a drink and leave her in peace.”

  The wake was being held at her Uncle Robert’s house, or the Fisher Family Mansion as she and Jill had christened it. It was a grand old house in Vaucluse, which had been in the family for four generations, originally built for James Fisher in the late nineteenth century. Beth had lovely memories of the house as a child, back when her grandparents were in residence. Every Friday night her family and David’s would come here for dinner, and the four kids would chase each other and play hide and seek around the expansive grounds. Tim and Jill would always be getting into mischief, and it was often down to David and Beth to get them out of it before their parents found out. It had been so hard losing Tim all those years ago, but at least they had been prepared for his passing. Never could she have imagined she’d have to say goodbye to Jill so soon as well.

  Gail put a glass of wine in her hand, and Beth sipped it gently. The wake was supposed to be family only, but Gail was part of the Fisher world and it wouldn’t have been right to send Jill off without Gail there.

  “It was one of her favourites,” said Gail, pointing to the wine.

  “I think all wine was her favourite,” answered Beth, taking a larger drink this time. “But yes, this was one she loved. Oh, Gail, how am I ever going to get through this? She was my baby sister. Why would someone hurt her like that? She was the kindest person. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “I know.” Gail steered her to one of the empty bedrooms along the hall and they sat together and cried on the bed until Beth didn’t think she had any tears left. She plucked a tissue from a box on the dressing table and attempted to clean herself up.

  “You feel ready to go back out there?” asked Gail once she was finished.

  “No, but let’s do it anyway.”

  The caterers had laid out a large spread of hot and cold food, and the rest of the family were helping themselves. Beth took a plate and picked a few items, more for appearance than anything else. She definitely wasn’t hungry. She sat at the long table next to her father and Louis. Gail joined them with her own plate of food.

  “Remind me to thank her later,” Beth said, indicating her mother who was keeping Emily and Jacob entertained and fed.

  “She doesn’t need thanks, love,” replied Joseph. “I suspect she’s doing it more for herself than you. You know she needs to keep busy at times like these.”

  Not just times like these, thought Beth. Heather Fisher was a constant whirlwind of activity, always involving herself in various charities and fundraising events. She’d never needed to work, with her husband’s shares in Fisher & Co as well as his successful real estate career more than enough to keep them well maintained, but she made up for it with more social engagements than Beth thought one person could ever manage to coordinate. Beth used to think her mother was quite superficial, but in the last few years she’d realised that Heather worked hard at being Heather, and many worthwhile charities benefited from her efforts. Right now, though, it seemed nothing was more important in Heather Fisher’s world than her two grandchildren, and Beth was more than happy to indulge her.

  “Did you try the prawns?” asked David, taking the empty seat across from her. Beth looked up at him and realised she must still look a mess, because his demeanour changed immediately. “I’m sorry, that was stupid. Of course you don’t care about prawns right now. None of us do.” He took a sip from his glass of wine, putting it down carefully before breaking the awkward silence he’d created. “How are you doing, Beth?”

  “I’m okay, I think. I’ve had the biggest cry, been crying for five days, really. A wake is about celebrating someone’s life, and we need to do that. We need to celebrate Jill, who would probably have loved these prawns.”

  “After she got me to peel them for her,” Joseph added.

  “That’s right, Dad. She always got you to peel her prawns for her, didn’t she? And you always did it, too. She was so spoilt.”

  “Spoilt? I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “I would, Uncle Joe,” said David. “You were always doing stuff like that for her, ever since she was a little girl.”

  “That’s because she was the youngest,” said Robert, taking the seat next to David and smelling strongly of cigar smoke, a habit Beth wished he’d give up. “The youngest in a Fisher family always gets special treatment, isn’t that right, Joe?”

  “If you say so, Rob.” Beth was pleased to see her father not taking the bait for once. The two brothers didn’t get on, hadn’t for a long time. Her dad was doing his best to keep the peace here today, for Jill’s sake, and she was proud of him. Really, Uncle Robert should know better today. He was the head of the family, not the brother who’d just lost a child. He was the one who should be pulling his head in. She was glad when David changed the subject.

  “Hey, Beth, I almost forgot. I’ve got some good news for you,” he said, looking over to where her children were happily eating with their grandmother and paying him no attention. “They’re all clear.”

  “What’s all clear?” asked Joseph.

  “It’s the tests, Dad,” answered Beth. “David had Em and Jacob give a blood sample at the Foundation a couple of weeks ago to check for the gene mutation.” Her father nodded: everyone in the Fisher family knew what gene mutation they were talking about. Beth wondered at David’s timing, telling her now, but he obviously figured she could use some good news. And it was good news, to know that her children had been spared the disease that claimed her cousin’s life. But she didn’t want to think about nephronophthisis today.

  “I’ve decided to hire someone to finish Jill’s ancestry project,” she told the family group, changing the subject yet again. “I’ve found a guy who says he can come up with the finished tree on a wall chart, just like Jill imagined.”

  “I thought you were going to do it yourself?” asked David.

  “I was, but I looked through the box of stuff Jill had and I just couldn’t face it. Plus it didn’t seem right, somehow. I wanted it finished but I’m not the right person to do it. This way it stays Jill’s project, not mine.”

  “That makes sense,” said David, after finishing a mouthful of food. “You shou
ldn’t have to do it, not if it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

  “There was a box of stuff?” asked Robert.

  “Paperwork, yes. It was mostly copies of birth and death certificates, things like that. I gave it to the researcher, along with a USB stick Jill gave me a while ago. She said it was a back-up, so hopefully he’ll be able to piece things together even though her laptop was stolen.”

  Robert rested his cutlery either side of his plate. “Where did you find this researcher?”

  “At the State Library. I asked for their help, and they recommended him. His name is Terry Dorman, and he was very nice. I dropped the box off to his home office Saturday afternoon.”

  Beth felt better about handing the project over after she’d told her family what she’d done. Hopefully Terry wouldn’t take too long, and they would get a finished family tree wall chart as a constant reminder of Jill and her passion for the project. Beth even had an idea which wall she would hang it on, surrounded by photos of Jill and Tim and the rest of the family. It warmed her heart to think of how it would look.

  Beth’s phone rang and she apologised, not realising it was even turned on. She was about to reject the call when she saw it was Terry Dorman. It would be good to get an answer from him, so she excused herself and took the call.

  “Hi Beth, is this a good time?”

  She looked back at the table full of her family and smiled. They were all business people, the Fishers. Any time was a good time for business, and that’s really what this was. She was paying Terry to perform a service, and she wanted to know how long it was going to take.

  “It’s fine. Have you had a chance to look through Jill’s notes?”

  “I have, but I really need to talk to you about what’s on this USB stick. Can you come over tomorrow?”

  “Does that mean you’re going to do the job?”

  “Yes, of course, if you still want me to. But there’s more to this than I think you realise, Beth. A lot more. I don’t want to go into it over the phone. Best we talk in person. Shall we say nine tomorrow morning?”