Death by Beauty (17 page)

But were you good for her? Gemma wondered. ‘I read in the paper that Magda was one of the first clients at Sapphire Springs
to take advantage of their new post-operative therapy?’

Cobcroft nodded. ‘There was another well-known personality – I’ve forgotten her name – someone from the racing world.’

‘Maxine Wentworth?’

‘That’s right. That was the woman. I’ve got to say it’s a marvellous thing to produce such results. There was hardly any bruising
or swelling and almost no scarring – just a little in front of her ears. There’s very little worry about post-operative complications,
and it’s straightforward and simple enough. I hear that Harlow Hadley is having it done. She married a billionaire, that helps.’

‘Did Magda have to take any medication after the operation?’ Gemma asked.

‘Yes, she had to undergo the regime of the DiNAH components in capsule form.’

‘Are her capsules still here?’

‘No. Apparently they’re not letting anything off the premises until it’s been patented. Magda had to go back to Sapphire Springs
twice weekly.’

‘Are you quite sure you have no idea what the “something terrible” was, that Magda couldn’t face?’ she asked. ‘You do understand
the implication, don’t you?’

‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

‘Magda was facing something she believed was so terrible that death was a better alternative. Women have suicided over the
loss of love.’

‘But I did love her. She wasn’t about to lose me.’ He paused, looking away into the distance, then said quietly, ‘Believe
me. I don’t know why she did it.’

‘Do you think she might have been depressed? Something to do with the DiNAH therapy? Some kind of reaction to the drugs?’

‘I have no idea. No one mentioned any adverse reactions. The only thing they told her was to stay out of strong sunlight in
the middle of the day.’

Like a vampire, Gemma couldn’t help thinking.

‘And she wasn’t depressed,’ Cobcroft continued. ‘I would have been the first one to have noticed something like that.’

Gemma recalled reports she’d read, parents saying: ‘
But we had no idea! She never showed that side of herself to us
…’ She spoke carefully. ‘Sometimes those closest to the person are unable to see clearly what’s going on.’

Then, after a pause, she asked, ‘What exactly do you want me to do, Mr Cobcroft? Do you want me to ask around among
her friends and acquaintances? Isn’t that something you could do yourself? And far more cheaply.’

‘Actually, not quite so easily. Her son can’t stand me. He blames me for what happened. And a lot of her friends are very
judgemental. They couldn’t handle the age gap between us. They saw it as something sinister. Some of them think I’m some sort
of fortune hunter.’

‘I believe Magda was a very wealthy woman,’ Gemma said evenly.

‘She was. But her son will get everything. It’s not as if she was going to change her will and cut him out of his inheritance.
And now the family are blaming me. They’re saying that I pressured Magda into having the DiNAH-therapy facelift.’

Gemma looked him straight in the eye and asked, ‘And did you?’

He turned away, seemingly suddenly interested in a plant growing nearby before turning back and replying. ‘I may have implied
that things would be better between us if the age disparity wasn’t so obvious. I need to do a lot of socialising in my line
of work and I didn’t want – an old woman on my arm.’

At least, Gemma thought, he was being frank.

‘I can give you the details of her closest friend, Yvonne Creswell. Magda may have told her something; Yvonne was her confidante.
I really want to find out why she did this.’

He wrote out a name and phone number and handed it to Gemma.

‘I’ll do what I can, but it could take several thousand dollars of your money. What you’re asking me to do doesn’t come cheaply.
And I’m not even sure that there’ll be a satisfactory outcome.’

‘Minkie Montreau was delighted with what you did for her. And I’ve had a good month,’ he said. ‘I’ll write a cheque for a
thousand dollars for a deposit. Is that enough to be getting on with it?’

‘I can ask quite a few questions for a thousand dollars.’ She smiled.

They walked inside and Cobcroft invited Gemma to take a seat while he went to his desk to write out a cheque. She stood up
when he handed it to her, and took a couple of steps towards the door, obviously in no hurry to leave. It was a technique
that she often used: when people felt that an interview was at an end, they relaxed more and were often less guarded in what
they said.

‘I’d like a copy of the suicide note,’ she said.

‘I’ll make one right now,’ said Cobcroft, after the barest hesitation and headed into a small office, leaving Gemma staring
at another long-faced mask with mean, piggy eyes and a mouth that looked like a tapeworm’s. She heard the sounds of a photocopier
and within minutes he returned with a copy for her.

‘One more thing. Could you give me the name of Magda’s doctor?’

‘But I’ve already talked to him. That was the first thing that went through my mind,’ he said, ‘that Magda had discovered
some terrible threat to her health and thought suicide was a way out. Although that doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Perhaps she went to another doctor. One that you don’t know about,’ she suggested as they walked into the entry hall.

‘That’s possible. But what I am really hoping for is that someone – you – can give me an explanation as to how a woman can
one minute be on top of the world—’ he lowered his voice as he added, ‘and then do something like this.’

Gemma was silent for a few moments. ‘I’ll do everything I can. I understand how difficult this must be for you.’

He opened the front door then looked into her eyes and said, ‘I must say, you’re not what I expected.’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you.’

‘Who said anything about disappointment?’

Gemma raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll call you if I find out anything. Okay?’

She felt his eyes on her back as she walked away and she wondered about Cobcroft’s flirtatiousness. With some men, she thought,
it’s almost unconscious – it’s their way of relating to women. But could it have driven a sensitive woman like Magda, already
insecure over the quarter of a century that separated their ages, to suicide?

At home in her office she took the poignant suicide note out of her bag and read it again. ‘
Please forgive me … Something terrible is happening
…’ Gemma stared at it. The shaky writing troubled her. ‘
Something terrible is happening and I simply can’t cope with it
.’

Had Magda finally noticed her fiancé’s natural flirtatiousness and found that it was just too much to deal with? If so, would
that lead to suicide? Surely she’d just call the whole gig off, not kill herself. Gemma turned back to the note and continued
to read: ‘
I thought I could make a new beginning with you, Ambrose, but I can’t … Maybe you can guess what it might be … What I’m doing
is for the best
.’

Had she discovered she was suffering from some fatal disease? All the facelifts in the world couldn’t change that. But then,
if she already thought she was going to die, it didn’t make sense to be talking about making a new beginning. A new beginning
from where? And what had been the matter with her old life?

Gemma had the feeling that Cobcroft wasn’t telling her everything he knew. Magda had thought she could make a new beginning
with him, but something had happened, something terrible, and Magda believed that her lover knew what it was.

And whatever it was, she’d preferred death to facing it.

Gemma pulled out the piece of paper with the name of Magda’s best friend on it and dialled her number. ‘Is that Yvonne Creswell?’

‘Yes. Who’s speaking, please?’

‘My name is Gemma Lincoln. I’m an investigator working for Ambrose Cobcroft. This concerns the death of Magda Simmonds. I’d
like to talk to you about this if possible.’

There was a long hesitation.

‘Ambrose Cobcroft hired you?’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘I can’t imagine what he thinks he’ll get out of it.’ There was a bitter edge to her voice. ‘It was a terrible shock to us
all. I still don’t understand it. I feel terrible that I couldn’t help my friend.’

‘Maybe talking about it with me will help throw some light on it?’

‘I guess it won’t do any harm. I’m busy today but I could see you later in the week. I’ll need to check my diary.’

‘I’ll call again tomorrow and make a time.’

‘Am I speaking to Gemma Lincoln?’ a gruff male voice asked at the other end of the line.

‘Who is this?’

‘Sergeant Bernie Adams from Maroubra police. We’ve got a young fellow here by the name of Hugo Sherry who claims you’re his
guardian. Is this true?’

Gemma’s mind had to race for a moment before she recognised the Ratbag’s real name. ‘Hugo? What’s he doing in a police station?’
The Ratbag being a ratbag?

‘So, you do know him then?’

‘Yes. I do know Hugo. He’s a friend. I’ve known him for years. What’s the problem?’

‘Ms Lincoln, I think you should come and pick him up. He can tell you himself. I’m letting him off with a caution this time.
But I’m not prepared to let him go unless it’s in the company of a responsible adult.’

That’s me, thought Gemma. The responsible adult. What on earth had Hugo been up to? She looked outside to see that the sprinkle
she’d driven through earlier had turned into a downpour.

‘Okay. It’ll take me about thirty minutes, maybe longer in this rain. But I’ll come and pick him up.’

‘Good. Ask at the counter. Bernie Adams. I’ll be here till seven.’

During the drive she felt herself growing increasingly angry. What the hell was the Ratbag up to now? If he thought that a
life of crime was glamorous and exciting, he’d better think again, she decided. Although she felt sorry for him – his father
busy with his new love, and his mother’s time was taken up pursuing her career in Melbourne – he should have assumed some
responsibility for his life by now. He’d be sixteen soon. Not long ago, he’d been acting as a part-time courier for a drug
boss at Kings Cross. He’d claimed he was simply gathering intelligence, just as she did, because he was determined to work
for her when he grew up. Her anger with Hugo collided with the sense of overload that had been building for a few days now.
‘It takes me a while,’ she’d said to Kit once, ‘to realise when I’m taking too much on. I don’t seem to pace myself very well.’
And now as she realised she had taken on too many investigations, part of the anger was directed at herself.

At the police station she asked for Sergeant Adams. The young constable disappeared for a moment and then came back saying,
‘He won’t be long. Just take a seat.’

Gemma sat down and looked around at the haunting posters for missing persons – children and adults – on the noticeboards.
Her anger increased with every moment she was kept waiting. She glanced at her watch, worried about picking Rafi up from daycare.

Finally, a door opened and a heavily built uniformed officer walked across to her. ‘Ms Lincoln? Bernie Adams. Sorry to keep
you.’

She followed him through a doorway and down a hall, past a sign indicating ‘Detectives’ and a number of interview rooms.

Adams opened the door to the last one and there he was, the Ratbag, looking sheepishly at her, hunched into his hoodie. Gemma’s
first impulse was to run over and hug him but this was quickly replaced by the anger she’d experienced earlier. ‘Hugo! What
the hell is going on? What’s this all about?’

‘Thanks heaps for getting me,’ he said, his face wide with relief. ‘I thought you might have forgotten me.’ He paused and
looked away, blinking. ‘I didn’t think you were coming.’

At that, her anger evaporated. ‘Of course I came,’ she said, hugging him. ‘Let’s get you out of here and you can tell me what
happened.’

She was aware of the bulk of Bernie Adams in the doorway, and she turned to him as he spoke. ‘I’m letting him off with a caution
this time. I’ve got four kids myself and I know that at this stage boys can be a bit wild. He doesn’t seem to be a bad lad,
but if he ever gets into trouble again, that’ll be it. There’ll be no more warnings.’

‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ said Gemma. ‘I appreciate it. I’ve known Hugo for quite a few years now and he’s basically a good kid.’

‘He’d better be from now on.’

She hustled Hugo out of the room and down the hallway. As they emerged into the cool evening air, she was relieved that the
rain had stopped.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m parked over there.’

Once he’d climbed into the car and was sitting beside her, she turned to him and said, ‘Okay. Let’s have it. Right from the
beginning.’

He gave her a guilty look and then straightened up a little in the seat.

‘It kind of got out of hand.’

‘I don’t want to hear that crap. Just tell me what happened.’

‘I’m staying at Dad’s place for the school holidays and I met some guys from my old school.’

Gemma remembered the school, where for a long time two older bullies had been bashing Hugo and picking on him while his father
and mother didn’t seem to notice – or care.

‘Anyway, these guys were cool. We decided to take revenge on Clifford and Mawby.’

‘Revenge? That’s not a good idea. They were expelled. And you’re at a new school. It’s over and done with. The new school
– what’s it like, by the way?’

‘It’s pretty good,’ he said. ‘It’s just that because I’m kind of a new kid, I haven’t got any close friends there yet. So
when Brand and Jason called me, I was really stoked. It was their idea, the revenge I mean.’

Gemma sighed. ‘So what was the revenge idea?’

‘Mawby’s father bought him this really cool sports car. We decided we’d take it for a spin and then call Mawby and give him
a heart attack by telling him we were going to send it over a cliff into the sea. We set up a kind of diversion when he was
getting into the car. That’s how we got the keys.’

‘What kind of a diversion?’

‘Jason crashed-tackled him, I grabbed the keys, Brand pushed him out of the way, and by the time he knew what was going on,
we’d already piled into his car and taken off. He was screaming at us, swearing, but he couldn’t get us!’ A huge smile lit
up the Ratbag’s face. ‘That was a fully mad moment!’

‘That was an assault. And car theft.’

‘But we weren’t going to do anything bad with the car.’

‘And?’

‘And then we drove out to Maroubra in his crazy car and called to tell him we were going to wedge the accelerator and send
it over the cliff. He was crying like a baby and begging us not to. Then we made a huge noise with some empty old forty-four-gallon
drums and told him that was the sound of his car hitting the rocks. Then we hung up on him.’

‘So, what did you do with the car?’

‘We just left it there. We locked it and hid the keys on the front tyre. We planned to call him in a few hours, after he’d
suffered enough. But a couple of police saw us. They asked questions and, well, after a few minutes, we were in deep shit.
And that’s how come I ended up at the police station, charged with stealing a car. Well, almost charged.’

‘You’re damn lucky you weren’t. What happened to Brand and Jason?’

‘Their parents came. I was the only one left.’

‘What did your parents say?’

‘I left a message on Mum’s phone. Dad hit the roof and said I could stay and face the music. He said he was too busy to take
time off work to drive down to Maroubra. He was going to call his solicitor and send him down later. But he didn’t arrive
and I didn’t know what to do. So I rang you. I’m sorry.’

He looked away so that she couldn’t see his face.

Gemma patted his knee. ‘It’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry. Not to me. But you did a crazy thing.’

‘You bet!’ he said, grinning again.

‘I don’t mean crazy like you mean crazy, Hugo. I mean it was a stupid thing to do because it’s the sort of thing that can
get you a police record.’

The Ratbag shrugged. The rain came down heavily again, drumming on the roof and bonnet. Gemma thought of all the dangerous
times she’d shared with the Ratbag. On one occasion, there was no doubt he’d saved her life as well as his own. She owed him.
But at the moment, that wasn’t the point. She didn’t want him to make a train wreck of his life.

‘Hugo! Listen to me. If you get a police record, it will follow you all your life. When you go for job interviews, when you
apply for scholarships. Hugo, don’t shrug. Do you know what I’m saying? You’re just very lucky that Sergeant Adams is a decent
guy. Don’t smile like that. This is bloody serious.’

The smile vanished and he slumped in the passenger seat. ‘You sound like Mum,’ he muttered.

That’s because I
am
a mum, she almost said.

‘Why are we stopping here?’ Hugo asked, when they pulled up near the daycare centre.

‘Wait here while I go in and pick up my son.’

‘Your son? You’ve got a kid now?’

Within a few moments she was back again, Rafi warm and snug in her arms. Hugo jumped out to open the back door so Gemma could
put Rafi into his car seat. When he saw Rafi,
Hugo’s face lit up with delight. ‘Wow! What a cool little guy! What’s his name? How old is he?’

‘This is Rafi. He’ll be one in a few weeks,’ said Gemma, strapping him in. ‘Now let’s get back to my place while we work out
what we’re going to do with you.’

Once they were inside her apartment, Gemma sat Rafi on the rug with his toys and put some coffee on to brew.

‘Um, what’s to eat?’ Hugo asked, looking up from running a small wooden train along the floor in front of Rafi.

‘Just call your father, please,’ said Gemma. ‘He should know where you are.’

‘He wouldn’t care,’ said Hugo bitterly, leaving the train and pulling out his mobile. While he made the call, Gemma hunted
around in the kitchen for something to offer him. She listened to the Ratbag’s end of the conversation – mostly mumbled ‘Yeah’s
and grunts. She found a tin of baked beans and started to heat them up, putting some toast on while the coffee slowly bubbled.
Then she cut up some apple and cheese for Rafi to eat, and to play with.

‘Dad wants to talk to you,’ the Ratbag called.

Gemma hurried out to take the mobile from him.

‘Ms Lincoln,’ the man said as Rafi reached for Hugo’s mobile. When he didn’t get it, he crinkled up his face and started crying,
red-faced, building up to a scream, while Hugo desperately patted him, trying to soothe him.

‘Hey, not so vigorous with the patting, Hugo. Give him to me. Hello, Mr Sherry,’ Gemma said, with her other hand trying to
pacify Rafi, ‘Hugo is here with me. He told me what happened.
It seems the incident that got him into strife with the police was more like adolescent high spirits than any serious criminality.
Can you come and pick him up, please?’

Rafi’s cries reached a piercing velocity. With the mobile tucked under her chin, Gemma tried to change Rafi’s position to
get a firmer hold of him but he kicked out and she dropped the mobile. As she picked it up, her head collided with Hugo’s
who had reached for it at the same time.

‘Ouch!’ she cried, swearing in shock at the surprisingly painful blow, which only caused Rafi to scream more.

‘Sorry!’ cried Hugo. ‘I didn’t mean to—’ At the same time, she smelled burned toast.

‘Mr Sherry,’ she said, interrupting his reply as chaos erupted around her, ‘I’m going to have to call you back.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not convenient, Ms Lincoln,’ he said. ‘I’m about to—’