Part Four
Chapter Twenty-Six
After Judith delivered the little girl to the emergency room at Box Hill Hospital and told them that she suspected poisoning of the child and the mother, she called Rocky and told him the same thing. He said he’d dispatch officers to search the house for anything suspicious, and told Judith to go home. She wanted to wait at the hospital, but there was nothing she could do there, so she did as she was told and went home to her bed, and then couldn’t sleep.
At seven the following morning, she called Rocky. He answered on the second ring.
‘You’re up early,’ she said.
‘Didn’t go to bed.’
The tone of his voice was grim, and Judith’s heart sank. She could hear street noise in the background.
‘Where are you?’ she said.
‘Just leaving the hospital. She didn’t make it, Jude. Elsa Anderson is dead.’
‘What? You can’t be serious.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
The utter, shittyfinalityof the words hit Judith hard. It didn’t seem possible. That beautiful woman who’d been so vital, so present, the night before.
‘Her daughter? The little girl?’
‘Hanging in there. It was definitely poison. I sent a team to the house. The childminder pointed the boys to a jar of marshmallows. She said they were Elsa’s favourite sweets, that they’d been delivered by a courier, and the little girl—Doris—she ate some too. Elsa died before we could finish testing, but they were laced with 1080. You know what that is?’
‘Not really.’
‘It’s the brand name for sodium fluoroacetate, which is a controlled pesticide. It’s supposed to be accessible only to licensed pest controllers, but it’s widely used in the country to control possums, rabbits and other feral animals. I’m told it’s an odourless, colourless crystalline powder and there’s no specific antidote. There’s no way to reverse the effects, either. All doctors can do is try and keep you alive and hope you recover.’
‘So the kid...’
‘There’s hope. That’s all I know. It seems like Elsa ate some yesterday and more today. The little girl mustn’t have had as many. Usually 1080 works fast. No one seems to know exactly why they didn’t get sick until last night.’
Judith swore under her breath.
‘I’ve got a whole team working on this now, and our first priority is tracking down Ruth Hall. Sawhill’s thinking about making a public announcement. Warning people about the marshmallows.’
‘You think she sent them to someone else?’
‘You tell me, Jude. You’ve been ahead of me all the way on this. Do you think it’s possible?’
Judith hesitated. ‘I don’t know. So far, it feels like her campaign has been tightly targeted.’
‘Tightly targeted my arse. There’s a little girl in ICU who might not survive the day. And whatever Elsa Anderson did, she doesn’t deserve what she got.’ Rocky broke off to mutter something to someone who was with him, and Judith heard the sound of car doors opening and closing. ‘I have to go. I’ll see you at the station.’
Judith, still at home, barefoot and in her pyjamas, sat on her couch and rubbed both hands over her shorn head. She’d been a fool. Some part of her had felt sympathy for Ruth Hall and her cause, and some part of her had even envied Ruth’s ability to decide on a course of action and then implement it, without, it seemed, any hesitation or doubt or fear of the consequences. What was so clear to Judith now—and what should always have been clear to her—was that Ruth was a psychopath. She took life easily. Far too easily. Whatever Elsa had done to make herself a target, did it matter? Short of actually killing Miriam herself, could she have done anything to deserve her murder? And the little girl, she was a complete innocent.
Judith showered, dressed and ate. She got on her bike and rode to Lawrence Barr’s home address. He lived in a townhouse on Ramsden Street in Clifton Hill, overlooking Quarries Park. Judith let herself through the low pedestrian gate and went to the front door. She rang the bell. The door was opened by a blonde woman who looked to be in her late fifties. She was in her stockinged feet and wearing jeans and a long cardigan. Judith could hear classical music playing from a room towards the back of the house.
‘Can I help you?’
Judith introduced herself, showing her ID. ‘I’m looking for Lawrence Barr. Is he available?’
The woman’s open, friendly expression disappeared quickly. ‘He’s out.’
‘I see. Do you know when he’ll be back?’
