‘Never heard of them.’
‘There are ones who don’t have such a high profile,’ Ted said. ‘And those are the ones which are the richest, generally.’
‘You say that with a hint of menace, Dad.’
She took out her phone and googled FairGro.com and got her answer. She read out loud.
‘Hampton-Dent owns them. Holy crap, they turn over fifty billion a year.’
‘That’s about right,’ Ted said. ‘Told you.’
‘I’m in the wrong business. Does anyone ever ask if what they push on us is actually good for us or just good for their pockets?’
Ted laughed. ‘You’re just questioning that now? Call me a cynic but I don’t think the curative drug industry is there to make us well. They’re manufacturers of chemicals, and they have been since the Second World War. Did you know that chemotherapy drugs were developed from mustard gas.’
‘Dad, I’m shocked. You’re a part of that industry.’
‘Not really. The medical profession is like the front line. We put out the fire with what we’re given. That’s why I prefer to stay away from the industrial side of pathology. It’s become too commercial.’
They often had conversations about what made people ill. A detective saw death differently to perhaps a pathologist. Both found themselves thrust into the middle of it, but for different reasons. Whichever way they looked at it, Kelly couldn’t understand why nasty diseases were so prevalent when the world was so full of clever people. Ted liked to point out that man was put on the moon in 1969 but we still can’t cure obesity.
‘Are you suggesting their huge profits are gained dishonourably?’ Kelly asked.
‘Now who’s the cynic?’ Ted asked.
‘I can’t wait to talk to the VIPs. That’s seriously how they were passed on to me, as VIPs,’ Kelly said. Her father chuckled.
‘They take themselves very seriously. Being an expert is very expensive,’ he quipped. ‘You have to know the right people.’
‘Have you met them?’ Kelly asked.
‘No. I don’t tend to get involved with witnesses; they muddy the waters for me. But I did spot them from afar. The well-dressed ones with bodyguards?’
‘I haven’t time to interview them all properly tonight. It’s getting late and we have initial statements. A bigger worry is the close protection you mention are carrying weapons. The US Embassy was involved apparently, after I reported it – it’s abovemy pay grade but I don’t like it. Any advice on speaking to drug pushers, then?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s a good way of describing them, although I doubt they’d appreciate it.’
‘From what you’ve told me in the past, these people who bully you into buying their miracle drugs are worse than Colombian cartels.’
‘Just as deadly, but these types are the sellers – they’re glamourous, smooth and manipulative. Did you see the cars parked outside? This is the slick end of the operation.’
They loved a good conspiracy theory, and Kelly could listen to her father’s insight into the world of Big Pharma endlessly. She winked at him and the thought of corruption lingered in Kelly’s mind as she left him to seek out the uniformed officer who’d tried to organise her witnesses. He’d done a good job of compiling a list, including the bodyguards, who, she’d been informed, had full licences from the US Embassy to be carrying weapons. Kelly sniffed. They still shouldn’t be brandishing them in public, no matter who they were.
The copper pointed her in the direction of a conference room, and she found it and went in. She found two VIPs huddled together speaking quietly, who stopped chatting when she closed the door. Both had American accents. One man and one woman. Plus three huge bodyguards. The largest of the three stood out to her because Johnny would have a fit if he saw his attire. Close protection recruits were supposed to fit in. To melt into the background. The big one wore a Mercedes baseball cap. Noticeable. Recognisable.
Stupid.
She eyed their trousers and there were no bulges apart from egos and she wondered where their weapons were. They got her back up and Mercedes man stared at her.
The Americans looked ruffled, but suitably professional, as Ted had warned her. They did not appear to be bereaved or bewildered, more flustered, but the gentleman in a wildly inappropriate but charming cream suit recovered quickly. She introduced herself and pulled out a chair.
She understood that under such circumstances, an inconvenient and potentially embarrassing death could cause a scandal for the company Jamie Robbins worked for. Here, hidden away on the edges of Rydal Water, it was easy to be seduced into thinking news wouldn’t travel fast, but in the age of social media, anything involving a global brand must be managed. Their American office had already been on to Eden House to request tactful handling of the story via the press department, and together with Carleton Hall’s input, it unsettled her. Kelly felt trouble brewing and didn’t like anybody else’s hands on her investigations.
She ignored the bodyguards.
‘I appreciate how shocking this must be for you and all the attendees. I’m happy that we’ve got statements from you both and we’ll be returning tomorrow once we’ve had time to review them. I’d like to assure you that we’ll get to the bottom of what happened as soon as we can.’
Kelly eyed the paperwork and noticed that the surnames of the two VIPs waiting for her next move were Hampton and Dent. They really had sent the big guns.
