The only blip in an otherwise productive time exploring Gaby’s laptop was a hang-up phone call. God, I hated those. If you dialled a wrong number, at least have the common courtesy to apologise.
Lucky for me, Gaby hadn’t bothered to password-protect her computer, so I didn’t have to waste precious time figuring it out and was able to rip straight in. An hour passed in a wink. I was no expert, but I could navigate my way around computers and find things that were supposed to be hidden.
There were no emails of note, other than the query Gaby had logged to MPI about TB. Evidently, they hadn’t replied. Her electronic calendar didn’t show any other appointments in addition to those she had scribbled on the envelope. Examination of Gaby’s documents folder showed only assignments and a few webpages she’d saved for future reference – these, unsurprisingly, related to TB. Where things got a little more interesting was when I looked back to see what webpages she’d looked at recently. They were not limited to TB. Her research into livestock diseases had also extended to the foreign and positively catastrophic – foot-and-mouth disease, BSE, scrapie, brucella, mycoplasma bovis, anthrax. As a list it made scary reading, and several diseases had made their way onto the international stage in recent years. Anthrax had been used as a terrorist weapon post 9/11. Once upon a time, white powder in an envelope was likely to be an A-class drug; now it triggered a decontamination alert. There were still new cases of BSE or mad-cow disease cropping up in countries other than Britain and Europe. Canada and Japan had had recent cases; another case in the United States had been on the news the other night at the pub. Even New Zealand had had a potentially disastrous brush with foot-and-mouth: some sick bugger claimed to have released the disease on Waiheke Island. It was most likely a hoax, but the shock waves were felt throughout the world. Trading partners threatened to close borders to our meat, and an obscene amount of taxpayer money had to be spent on containment and testing – just in case. All thanks to a suspected university capping stunt. No one had laughed at the joke.
These thoughts led me back to Gaby, and why she’d been looking at these websites. Thoroughness, morbid curiosity or suspicion?
I didn’t get the opportunity to look further into it before someone knocked at the door.
‘Hey, square eyes, you’ve got a visitor,’ Maggie called as she showed Paul into the house.
I was back in Maggie’s good books again. Making her a cup of tea and providing conciliatory chocolate biscuits had done much to repair any potential rift in relations. Not that the risk of that was large: Maggie knew me too well. But hey, any excuse for Toffee Pops. She waved bye-bye as she made herself scarce.
I stood up and awkwardly shook Paul’s hand. I don’t know why I felt the need to do that. Conditioning?
‘How’s it going? Find anything interesting?’ He came around to look at the screen. ‘Whoa, what happened to your head? Are you OK?’
His concern was gratifying, but the afternoon’s escapades were still a bit of a sore point, so I shrugged it off.
‘It was just an accident. It’s nothing, I’m OK.’ The frown told me he wasn’t too convinced. ‘It’s nothing.’ I shot him an end-of-conversation look, to which he merely raised his eyebrows. I continued on. ‘Now, I’m sad to say I haven’t found anything startling on Gaby’s computer. I take it by now you guys have worked out she was studying journalism, and the article she was working on when she died was about bovine TB.’
‘They had mentioned the journalism course, and the TB. Not a very exciting topic to feature. You think there’s a connection?’
How much did I tell him? I wasn’t sure.
‘I think there must be some connection, but it’s probably very vague or indirect. I can’t for the life of me think why someone would be threatened by her writing about TB. It’s hardly the stuff of conspiracy, after all. All I’ve found on her computer is general background research that you’d expect from someone writing about livestock. Ministry of Primary Industries regulations, diseases – not just TB. She’s looked at several others as well, identification, things like that. Her email correspondence is mainly chitchat with friends and family, jokes forwarded, the usual mountain of spam. The only email relating to her work was a query sent to MPI which hasn’t been answered yet.’
‘That’s disappointing. I’d have much preferred to find a great big arrow pointing to her killer on her desktop.’ He sighed. I noticed the dark rings under his eyes. The staff who’d remained had been putting in long hours. Tough – but weren’t we all?
‘Sorry, no neon signs. Looks like we’re just going to have to solve this one the old-fashioned way with lots of legwork.’
‘Bugger,’ he said.
That summed it up nicely, really.
‘I like the way you said we’re going to have to solve this one. Need I remind you that you are currently under suspension and quite a bit of scrutiny? I think it would be in your best interests if you just let us handle it from here. The CIB guys might be able to pull a bit more information out of the computer that could be helpful.’
‘Yeah, ’cause they’ve been really successful at finding other leads so far.’
All that comment got me was a withering look.
‘Don’t knock us too much. Some of us have been working hard and, despite what you may think, we’re not the Keystone Cops. We’re a professional bunch who want to solve this case as badly as you do.’
The last thing I wanted was to get off side with Paul. I muttered a quick ‘Sorry.’
‘Gracious apology accepted,’ he said. ‘As I was saying before you decided to slag off your profession, I’ve come up with some interesting information on our Dr Walden which keeps him firmly on our suspects list.’
I took the proffered opportunity to get my foot out of my mouth.
‘So, what did you find?’
‘Did a bit of digging into his past activities in Britain. I always had a bad feeling about that man.’ He wasn’t alone there. ‘I could never fathom how Mrs Knowes could have got herself into a blackmail situation in the first place. She seemed to be an intelligent woman, and, as far as we can tell, didn’t have any history. To me, the whole scenario seemed so improbable. But maybe not. It now appears that Dr Walden has done this before.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ Paul pulled up a chair and sat down next to me. ‘He was under investigation for inappropriate sexual relationships with a patient. With several patients, it would seem. He left the country rather hurriedly once the accusations came out and hasn’t fronted up to his Medical Council disciplinary hearings. Needless to say, his registration has been revoked.’
‘OK, but if that is the case, how did he get to practise medicine here?’
That must have been the question Paul was hoping for. The glee in his eyes told me he was building up to the show-stopper. He literally rubbed his hands together.
‘That’s where things get really interesting. Our Dr Anthony Walden is not Dr Tony Walden at all. He is in reality Dr Christopher Walden, repeat sleaze and banned from practising in Britain. Dr Tony Walden is, in fact, his older brother, also a doctor, and practising as a GP somewhere in northern England.’
‘So big brother bails him out of a spot of bother by lending him the paperwork to get registered here. What a caring, sharing family they have.’
‘Either that or the brother didn’t know. From what I can gather, they are very close in age – just over a year’s difference. They studied medicine at the same university; hell, they may have even flatted together. We don’t know that yet, but we will. The British police are pretty keen to have a word with him.’
I bet they were.
‘But surely someone would have picked that up when he was applying for registration here? There must have been discrepancies in his documentation. It can’t be that easy to fool the Medical Council. And surely the Medical Centre here would have checked his references before they employed him?’
‘Well, you’d think that, but no, it slipped through. It probably wasn’t helped by the fact that Christopher Walden’s full name is Christopher Anthony Walden, so it would be easy enough for him to say that he goes by his middle name. Must be a family name.’
‘He must be a very convincing liar, then.’
‘Well, yes, he certainly had everyone fooled. The ladies at the Gore station who’d met him thought he was wonderful. I didn’t think he was all that good-looking.’
I looked at the expression on his face and laughed. Fancy Paul, the ladies’ man, feeling jealous of some competition.
‘It isn’t all about looks, Paul. It’s about charm. And that’s the same feedback I got from the locals – that he was very charming. All the ladies liked him.’
‘I suppose he had you fooled too?’
‘Ooh no.’ I visibly shuddered. ‘I found him sleazy. Creepy. Yuk.’ I thought about that for a moment. ‘So you have to ask yourself, what’s wrong with Angela Walden, then? Why would she follow that bastard to the other side of the world when he was in trouble for shagging his patients? She must hate him for it. Actually, it could explain her being such a bitch.’
It was Paul’s turn to smile.
‘Perhaps your comment the other day about a big inheritance isn’t too far from the truth. The repeated names in the family could be a major suck-up to a rich grandfather or uncle. She might have decided she could put up with anything to get a slice of that pie.’
‘Unless she had her own little misdemeanours she wanted to leave on the other side of the world. Maybe she had her own demons to escape.’
‘Could be, she’s scary enough,’ Paul said.
‘And Mataura is as far away as you can get from England and still be on the planet. We do define the back of beyond.’
‘No argument there.’
‘So what happens to Dr Walden now?’ I asked. ‘Is he in custody?’
‘We’ve got some final checks to make with our colleagues in Britain. We want to make sure he can’t wheedle his way out of this one on a technicality. He’ll face charges in the morning relating to practising without a medical certificate. And, of course, we’re still looking for any involvement in the Knowes case. Either way, he’s going to be experiencing some of Her Majesty’s hospitality.’
Good bloody job too. That rat had to pay for what he did to Gaby and those other women.
‘So do you really think he had anything to do with Gaby’s death?’ I asked.
‘Do you mean professionally or personally?’ Paul cocked his head to the side.
‘Is there a difference?’ I asked, curious that he’d separate the two.
‘Professionally, he could still have paid a third party to have Mrs Knowes killed, so the case is still open there. Personally, even with this new information, I don’t think he did it. His game is about lies and power. Paying to have her killed so it looked like suicide is not a display of power.’
‘So where do we go with the investigation from here?’ I asked.
Paul looked at me as if I was mad. ‘I’ve told you, there is no “we”, Sam. You need to stay out of it. You’re still under the microscope, or have you forgotten that? You could still get into serious trouble, especially after pulling stunts like this.’ He tapped on Gaby’s computer, which had flicked over to its screen saver – a family photo including the dog.
My face reddened, and not just because of the reprimand. ‘How could I possibly forget? But I still think I’d be useful with the locals. I know the…’
‘Stay out of it. I’m serious. The Boss is under a lot of pressure from above to get this case solved and tidied up. He’s as grumpy as hell and he hasn’t taken kindly to your extracurricular activities.’
‘Is he really putting me up for disciplinary?’
Paul reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. ‘He’s started the paperwork. But to be honest, Sam, he has a soft spot for you. I’m sure he wouldn’t go through with it unless he absolutely had to. He has to be seen to be maintaining discipline and standards. My message is don’t push his patience too far.’
I suspected I already had.