The Charlton Affair (13 page)

“Your Honor, Mr. Rawlins can offer a solution for every concern the Crown has raised before this honorable court.” Charlie expounded in resonant tones. “In the absence of unacceptable risk, Your Honor, it is my submission that bail ought to be granted.”

His Honor nodded at Charlie to continue.

“Mr. Rawlins is entirely willing to surrender his passport, submit to daily reporting, a curfew and any other restrictions this honorable court deems necessary. He will also agree not to contact his wife directly or indirectly.”

Before Charlie could offer any more submissions, His Honor turned to Counsel for the Crown and said, “I’m minded to grant bail unless you can come up with some other compelling reason why releasing Mr. Rawlins is too great a risk, Mr. Clarke.”

Clarke shook his head in defeat, saying, “I have nothing further, Your Honor.”

“Very well, I’ll adjourn for fifteen minutes. I expect you both to come to some agreement in relation to the appropriate conditions.”

“Certainly Your Honor,” Charlie said.

“All rise. This honorable court is now adjourned,” sang out the bailiff.

After Justice Donaldson left, Charlie and Clarke left together to negotiate. Darren followed them with his laptop. They all went into a small interview room and sat down. Darren had already taken instructions from Michael about what he would consent to and had blank draft orders ready to go. All he had to do was type in the conditions. They reached an agreement within ten minutes and Darren plugged in a portable printer and ran off three copies.

Darren also emailed a copy to His Honor’s Associate in case His Honor wanted to peruse the draft before court resumed. Charlie went back inside the courtroom as soon as possible to avoid running into Phoebe who was waiting with Roman not far away from the little interview room. She tried not to even look in their direction.

Charlie knew her feelings would be plain for everyone to see if she spent more than a moment with Phoebe. She would be unable to stop herself from reaching out and touching Phoebe even if it was just on her shoulder or her arm. It had been difficult enough being near her in court. Phoebe’s presence had proven that it was not all in her head. She definitely had an undeniable compulsion to be near Phoebe. The only course to take was to stay away until all of this was over. Charlie strode resolutely back to the bar table and made a pretense of looking through her material until His Honor came back into the courtroom.

Chapter Ten

Amanda watched the evening news with John.

“He doesn’t even look excited to be out,” John commented as an image of a somber faced Michael walking out of the courthouse alongside Darren, who looked triumphant, played across the screen.

The newsreader relished presenting Michael as a man whose loyal wife put up a surety for his release while his sultry mistress gave him an alibi for the crime. They even got hold of an image of Marita, which they splashed across the screen. The commentary that followed indicated that police were in possession of intimate photos of Michael’s mistress that she had ‘sexted’ to him.

Amanda replied, “He didn’t really say much, I think he’s retreated into himself. Darren is getting him some medical supervision.”

“I think I can tell what the mistress is like,” John said with a sly grin, “But what’s the wife like?” He asked, curious.

“She’s really lovely. I like her. Smart and caring. She’s not interested in being his wife anymore, but she’s convinced he didn’t do it. I think she wants to be his friend. She could be the only friend has.”

“What make her so convinced?”

“She says it doesn’t make sense. He knows very little about cars or computers and he’s not mean or nasty, just emotionally distant.”

John grunted and then said, “Sounds like lots of blokes. Well, who did it then?”

“She doesn’t know and neither do I.”

Amanda frowned. She had spent the rest of the day after court researching Phoebe’s family and connections, getting nothing but dead ends. A large chart of names and information that shed no light on anything was sitting in Charlie’s chambers. Amanda realized she had to trust that the connections would start to appear at some stage. Like a series of lights on a runway, they would eventually provide direction. She going to interview Michael with Darren in the morning and she hoped he would reveal something that gave her a new direction.

*****

Charlie ran along the Brisbane River in the inner city suburb of West End. Orleigh Park was perhaps not the safest place to run at the end of the day but it was reasonably flat and the view of the river was calming. Thoughts of Phoebe came to mind and she involuntarily picked up her pace. Looking at the untroubled water as it flowed lazily by, she was able to slow down and refocus her thoughts to a more productive subject, but not for very long. Stubbornly, her mind kept returning to Phoebe’s perfect skin, gorgeous eyes and mouth.
Her perfect mouth
. Charlie, groaned inwardly as she ran faster again.

*****

Sally Middleton sipped her morning coffee as she played the CCTV clip one more time, in slow motion this time. Phoebe leaned closer and watched carefully as a heavyset man in a balaclava climbed under her car, where he remained for quite a while. She could see his legs moving as he worked. Eventually he got up and dusted himself off before using a device to open the bonnet of the Volvo and doing a little more work. Then he closed the car up, wiped it down, and walked away casually, shoving a few small tools into his back pocket. The image was grainy and taken from a distance. It was hard to tell anything about him apart from his size and shape. The close ups were blurry.

Phoebe frowned, “He has the same build as the man who attacked me, but I’m sorry, I just have no idea if it’s him. But something about the way he moves seems familiar. It could be because it’s him or because he’s someone else I know. I’ll keep trying. Maybe I’ll figure it out.” Phoebe looked dejectedly at Sally.

Sally replied encouragingly, “Call me if it comes to you.”

“I will.”

“Are you sure you won’t take the witness protection officer Detective Phillips offered to organize for you?” Sally asked.

“No. I really don’t want that,” Phoebe replied.

“Can I ask why not?”

“We have excellent security. And I don’t think I could handle the intrusion. The media is bad enough without having a stranger around all the time. And I know Roman would hate it too. Besides, whoever this is can’t be stupid enough to keep trying. Not after all the media and police attention the situation is getting, surely?”

“I wouldn’t rely too heavily on that line of reasoning,” Sally replied. “Just let us know if you change your mind.”

Phoebe nodded.

Sally walked Phoebe out, glad to be getting rid of her. Sally had never had much time for the ‘stand-by-your-man’ type. She always felt disgusted by women who supported the violent males in their lives at their own expense, or women who stuck by their husbands even when they had affairs. Phoebe Rawlins ticked both boxes as far as she was concerned.

Shrugging, she went back to her desk and puzzled over what she had. They had come no closer to finding the link between Michael and the mysterious heavyset man. Michael’s financial details were clean even though he had spent an inordinate amount of money on his mistress. There were still some links in the chain to uncover. She wondered if the mistress was paying the heavyset man with the money Michael was giving her?

The mistress was someone Sally had even less time for than the wife, being, in her view, a classic gold-digger. Sally believed the alibi was inspired by self interest above all else, but she had no way to prove the woman was lying.

The forensic evidence said the iPad had to be within a one-kilometer radius of the car when the crash happened. The Rawlins’ Hamilton home was about nine hundred meters from the crash scene. If Michael was in Spring Hill with his mistress it couldn’t have been him operating the iPad. He had to have been at home, or somewhere else close to the scene.

Going back to her constellation of the people in Phoebe’s life, she failed to see who else had any sort of motive. If it isn’t the husband, then we’ll have to drill down even deeper, right down to randoms like her hairdresser and the person who does her nails. I don’t have the time or the manpower for that.
It has to be the husband.
In her experience, it always was. She chewed on her pen, thinking. She decided to check something and called the forensic professional who had analyzed the Volvo’s computer.

“Yes,” he answered curtly.

“It’s Middleton, just tell me if the iPad could have been pre-programmed to issue the commands to the Volvo?”

“Of course it could have,” he answered as though she was an idiot.

“Just so I’m getting this right,” Sally grated, trying to keep a lid on her frustration. “As long as the iPad was set to send the commands wirelessly at a certain time, and left within a kilometer of the Volvo at the time, a crash could happen?”

“That’s right,” he replied, sounding annoyed, “It could even have been loaded with a recurring cycle, like an event you put in your calendar, something that happens at the same time every day or every week, or even every hour.”

“Why didn’t you put that in your report?” Sally demanded.

“It’s basic. You should know that,” he retorted, losing his patience.

“I’ll tell you what’s basic,” she replied hotly, “idiots like you who don’t have the slightest idea of how to write a report suited to their audience. Your stupidity could have fucked the whole case. It’s already fucked the bail case. Now pull your head out of your scientific arse and go back and write a proper report. One that sets all of this out so that any person can understand it, including the judge who hears the case. Because I’ll guarantee you the judge won’t understand computers and programming and what you think is basic anymore than the average person does, which is not at all. If I don’t get a comprehensive report by the end of the day, the Chief Superintendent will be hearing about it. Got it?”

A subdued voice replied, “Got it.”

Sally sat there fuming
Fucking scientists, too fucking smart to bother with basics.
Mad at herself, she thought,
I should have picked it up earlier.

Slamming her chewed pen down on her desk, she yelled, “Phillips!”

Phillips appeared quickly, his sandy-colored eyebrows raised.

She explained what had just happened.

“That means the alibi is worthless,” Phillips replied happily, “We’ve got him for sure.”

Sally, still frowning, replied, “Not yet. We still need to prove that he paid a hacker or that he is a hacker, and that he paid that muscular guy too. The onus is on us, remember. He doesn’t have to prove anything.” 

“Then we’re in over our heads. I sure as shit don’t understand any of this computer stuff and I know you don’t.” Phillips replied, no longer happy.

Sally looked at Phillips, picturing Michael’s bare study with a simple Ethernet cable for his laptop in her mind. She said, “He doesn’t have all the geeky computer stuff those types usually have lying around. You know what I mean?”

Phillips nodded, “Yeah, lots of screens and a mega desktop, connected to all sorts of things.” He added, “I got the Rawlins internet usage profile from their ISP. They go to car, cooking and occasional porn sites. That’s probably just him. The car sites were just places to buy a new Volvo, nothing to do with hacking car computers. They do email and they download movies and TV shows from iTunes.”

“What sort of porn?” Sally asked, curious.

“There was one site called ‘horny lesbians going at it’ and another called ‘girl on girl action’ and another…”

Sally interrupted him, “I get the picture,” she laughed, adding, “We need to be looking for a connection to someone who has IT skills and from what I can see, the Rawlins don’t know those kind of people.”

Phillips thought about it and then said, “He knows some IT people through his work, but that might be a long shot.”

“Check it out anyway,” Sally replied. “What about the mistress, does she know anyone like that?”

“Not that I can see. The only suspicious type she knows is her brother. He’s been done for supplying drugs. But he’s not the geek type. The opposite, you know, covered in tattoos and lifts weights. He hangs out at a gym in Bowen Hills,” Phillips replied.

“Is he our muscle man?” Sally asked.

“Nah, I thought of that. He’s way too short, but maybe he knows someone?” Phillips conjectured.

“We’ll check him out, too, when we get time. But first, let’s go put some pressure on the mistress, see what she comes up with,” Sally replied.

Phillips leered eagerly, “Count me in.”

*****

Michael opened his front door to let Darren and Amanda in. Amanda saw that the place was a mess and so was Michael. Unshaven, unwashed and uncaring, he led them to the lounge where he slumped into an armchair. Amanda thought to herself,
looks like an extreme case of self-pity, or maybe depression
. Amanda knew they didn’t have time to jolly him along with Phoebe at risk and her investigation going nowhere fast.

Darren sighed, and said, “Michael, you’re not travelling too well, are you?”

Michael looked up at them, “Let’s just get this over with,” he said with an emotionless voice.

Darren looked at Amanda.

Amanda said, “We need information.”

Michael said nothing. His head down, he didn’t look at Amanda or Darren.

“How well do you remember your sister?” Amanda asked bluntly.

Michael started, looking up at her. Then he said with hostility, “I don’t want to speak about that. Ever. Got it?”

Amanda stared right back at him. With nothing to lose at this point, she decided to take a risk and try to shock him out of his funk.

Her voice was categorical and calm as she said, “Listen closely. I don’t care if you want to drive yourself into the ground with self-pity. I don’t care if you decide to withdraw from the world.”

Darren put a restraining hand on her arm and started to speak.

“Shush, Darren,” Amanda said firmly before turning back to Michael.

“In case you’ve forgotten, someone is trying to kill your wife. Remember her? The woman who stood up for you in court. The woman who splashed herself all over the news for you. Who exposed herself to ridicule on every channel standing up for a man who was cheating on her. The woman who gave a surety for you in the amount of two hundred thousand dollars. The woman who’s convinced you’re innocent.”

Michael swallowed, shamefaced. He still said nothing.

Amanda continued, her voice scathing now, “Look at yourself, you can’t even be bothered to shave let alone help us find out who’s trying to kill her, can you?”

Michael finally spoke, his voice pathetic, “You don’t understand.”

Amanda replied earnestly and compassionately, “No, I don’t. I’m not going to even pretend to. I don’t think many people would.” Staring at Michael she said softly, “If you spend your life waiting for people to understand what happened to you and your family, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Darren stared at Amanda in amazed horror. She could tell he wanted to intervene but was too fascinated to stop her.

Amanda finished, “What I do understand is that your wife needs your help. She’s gone way out on a limb to help you. She’s been braver that she thought she could be. Now it’s your turn. Are you going to keep running away?”