The Charlton Affair (14 page)

Michael looked up and said, “You’re right. I should stop running.” He swallowed and then said, “I’ve been hiding from it for so long, I’m not sure I know how not to.”

“You can start by answering my questions,” Amanda replied, kindness in her voice.

Michael nodded in acquiescence.

Darren’s jaw dropped.

“Tell me what you remember about your sister.”

“Not much. I can’t really remember anything much before it happened. I just have this fuzzy memory of an older girl hugging me and crying a lot. She was really, really sad. I try not to think about it. It makes me really sad too when I remember it,” Michael said.

Amanda nodded encouragingly, “And what about your brother, Stillman?”

Michael frowned, “Again, nothing before. Afterwards, I remember him being a creep. He wasn’t very nice to me on the plane over here, or when we got here. I remember thinking it wasn’t fair, because he was all I had. I was happy when he left, even though I knew I shouldn’t be. But I was sad too, because he was the last of my real family. I guess things were hard for him too. Maybe that was why he wasn’t so nice? I don’t know.”

“How long after you got to Queensland did Stillman stay around?”

“I don’t know. Not long. Maybe a month. I remember Dad, my new Dad I mean, getting really upset about him leaving and looking for him for a long time afterwards. He used to harass the local police about finding him for years, but they never did.”

Amanda frowned.

Michael continued, “I think he’s dead.”

“Why?” Amanda asked.

“If he wasn’t dead he’d come and find me, wouldn’t he?” Michael stated, as though it was a self-evident fact.

Amanda replied carefully, “I don’t know the answer to that. Maybe he hasn’t been able to stand anything to do with the past either? What was he like physically, do you remember?”

“He was big, but then everyone was bigger than me, I was only six. I remember my new Dad saying that he thought we looked like our mother, that he could see his little sister in our faces.”

He really needs to speak to a professional about this stuff. It’s almost like he regresses a bit when he speaks about it. I bet he’s got PTSD. How could you not after something like that?

Amanda changed the subject, saying, “Darren arranged for you to see the psychiatrist, Doctor Khan, but you missed the appointment. Will you go if we get you another appointment?”

Michael nodded.

“And will you go to therapy, too? I think some emotional support would be very helpful,” Amanda added.

Michael nodded again, much to Darren’s amazement.

“Good. We’ll organize it for you. Now, let’s talk about your money.”

Darren’s eyebrow’s rose. Amanda could see he was amused by her brazen approach.

Amanda said directly, “Why haven’t you ever touched your inheritance?”

“It feels dirty,” Michael said, shuddering, “The only reason I have it is because they’re all dead. I never want to touch it and I never want anyone else to touch it.”

“That’s why the prenuptial agreement?” Darren asked.

Michael nodded.

“What about Stillman’s inheritance?” Darren said.

“What about it?” Michael asked them, puzzled.

“Did you inherit that, too?” Amanda asked, realizing where Darren was going with his question.

“No.” Michael said.

Amanda replied, “If he was dead, you would have inherited it.”

Michael’s eyes went wide. Clearly, here was another thing he had refused to think about.

Darren asked, “Do we have your permission to try to trace it?”

Michael nodded. Amanda could see he was wondering about his brother still being alive.

“Thanks, I might have to ask your wife to assist, is that OK? Her skills would be very helpful with something like this, not to mention saving you the cost of a forensic accountant.”

“If Phoebe wants to help, I’d like that. It’s not like anything about my life is a secret anymore…” Michael replied, looking sorry for himself again.

“I’ll keep you up to date with what we find.” Darren said.

Amanda said to Michael, “Can I come back or call you if I need more information?”

Michael nodded and then said hesitantly, “How is she? Phoebe, I mean?”

Darren replied slowly, “She’s OK. She’s recovering well from her accident. She’s asked after you more than once and she’s told me she thinks of you. She told me that no matter what’s happened, she wants to be your friend. I’ll tell her about this visit, if you’re OK with that, even though I can’t pass messages? She’d want to know how you are.”

Michael said, “Please don’t tell her I’ve been like this. Just tell her I’ve been helpful, OK?”

“OK.” Darren agreed and then added, “I’ll get back to you soon with some appointment times.”

Amanda said, “One last thing, Michael.”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever work out at the gym, or has Phoebe? Or have you socialized with people who do weights?”

“Not me. I run sometimes and I swim when I stay in hotels with pools. Phoebe does those classes every so often, you know, dance or aerobics. But she never sticks with it.” Michael paused to think, “The only people we know who work out are Phoebe’s friends, Roman and Mark. But they don’t go to the gym. They do the personal trainer thing. I can’t imagine Roman in a gym with the hardcore lifters.” Michael actually smiled at the image.

Amanda smiled back. She was glad to see his mood had lifted slightly.

Darren looked at Amanda questioningly, silently enquiring if she was finished. She nodded and they stood up to leave.

“Thanks,” Michael said to Amanda as they left, “I was really getting lost.”

Amanda replied warmly, “Hang in there, I’ll speak to you soon.”

As Darren drove them away, he said, “You scared me with your approach back there, but you pulled if off. Well done! I doubt he would have responded to me.”

Amanda replied, frustrated, “I feel like I’m fighting against the clock. If it isn’t Michael, and I don’t think it is, then it’s only a matter of time before something else happens to Phoebe. I’m no closer to figuring any of this out. I wish the police would broaden their investigation.”

Darren replied, his voice somber, “I hear you. But you know what they’re like. They get fixated on an idea and they follow it through to the bitter end. They’re usually right, but I’m not convinced here. He couldn’t be that good an actor, surely?”

Amanda replied, “I agree, but I can’t see anyone else with any sort of motive. Unless there’s something we’re missing, it has to go back to something in the past, either his past or her past. I spent all day yesterday establishing that there’s nothing in her past, so it has to be his.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. If it’s not him, then who else stands to benefit? The only other person we know of is the brother and that’s a really long shot. Way too much of a stretch.” Darren mused.

“I’m glad we saw him today. He was sinking into a hole and I was out of leads except for going to see Ranelle Rawlins’ mother. And I don’t expect much from her. She’s in her nineties, and I’ll be asking her about something that happened thirty years ago.”

“You never know. She might have something.”

“Chasing Stillman’s money sounds more promising, but you’re right, it’s a real long shot.”

Darren reassured her, “Don’t worry too much, lovie. You can only do what you can do. I know you want to solve this, but these things require time and resources.”

“I know.” Amanda sighed, “It’s very frustrating, I keep feeling as though there’s something I’m missing. Something I should be focusing on.”

*****

Phoebe gingerly positioned herself in the comfortable chair in Doctor Briggs’ counseling room.

He smiled warmly at her, “Still sore, eh?”

She replied, smiling back at him, “It’s so much better than it was, although it’s still painful when I move. I should be able to go back to work soon. The doctor will let me know in a few days.”

“You’ve been through the mill, at least, according to the media. How are you coping?”

Phoebe grimaced, “The media attention has been awful. I can’t imagine what my colleagues and clients think of me? I want to go back to work but I’m so embarrassed at the same time.”

Doctor Briggs spoke to her in a calming voice about how she was not able to control the things that other people thought and did. She might influence them with her conduct, but her point of reference should be her own moral compass, not the concerns of others.

She was extremely relieved when he bluntly said that her conduct and her composition would carry the day. He reasoned that if she felt good about her own behavior, which she did, the thoughts of others would eventually adjust. And if they didn’t, well, there was nothing to be done about it. After all, he reassured her, she had done what she believed was the right thing to do to help her husband and that was what mattered.

Phoebe nodded.
How does he do that? How does he always reframe my thoughts into something that makes so much sense? He’s only telling me what I already know, but somehow it sounds better when he says it.
Phoebe felt that her decision to have therapy was one of the most sensible decisions she had ever made.

Doctor Briggs asked her about how she was going generally. Phoebe told him about her thoughts and concerns, and her fears and longings. She dwelled on the pain of being unable to speak to Michael and reassure him and also being unable to see or speak to the woman she so desperately wanted to be with.

Doctor Briggs listened patiently and spoke to her about how to manage strong feelings appropriately. He was able to assist Phoebe to see that she was going through an awakening of sorts. Her body was becoming alive to things she had never considered, and her heart was suffering the burden of grief at the same time. More than ever, Phoebe needed to practice diligent self-care. He gave her some practical tips about listening to what her body and emotions were saying and not being too hard on herself.

She left feeling lighter than when she had arrived.

*****

Sally pressed the buzzer while Phillips stood back, looking up at the apartment three balcony. The blinds were pulled and nothing stirred. Sally got no response to the buzzer. They wandered down to the car park. The space for apartment three contained a late model Mazda sedan.

Sally dialed the station and got a quick registration check.

“It’s registered to Marita Sanchez,” she told Phillips.

“Want me to climb up and look through the blinds?”

“Good idea. I’ll keep trying the buzzer.”

Within moments, the athletic Phillips had climbed up and jumped onto the row of second floor balconies. He made his way to Marita’s without trouble.

Suddenly, Sally heard him cry out, “Get an ambulance!”

She dialed police coms and organized an ambulance and a back-up uniformed crew to break the door down if necessary.

The next thing she heard was a loud smash. It sounded like glass shattering. Phillips called out, “I’ll let you in.”

The door buzzed and she entered the unit block, running up the stairs to Marita’s open door.

Phillips was standing over the body, checking for a pulse she knew would not be there. By the look of her, Marita had been dead for a while, at least long enough for her blood to have pooled and for rigor mortis to have set in.

Looking carefully around, Sally saw two wine glasses on the coffee table and a mood lamp that was still on, probably from the night before. The pool of blood that had settled around Marita’s head and neck was congealed in the plush rug she was lying on. Her dead eyes stared at the ceiling. Her expensive lingerie looked grotesque on her corpse.

“Phillips, move back. Don’t contaminate the crime scene. Call for scenes of crime officers, please.”

Phillips eased his large frame back and made the call.

Sally carefully walked around the apartment, noting the rumpled sheets in the bedroom, and the rinsed dishes in the sink. She was looking for a mobile telephone, but was unable to find one. The murderer must have taken it.

Chapter Eleven

Amanda drove north through another glorious Queensland morning. It would take several hours to get to Maryborough, and from there it wasn’t far to Hervey Bay. She had arranged to meet Ranelle Rawlins’ mother, Edna Baxter, at lunchtime. The registered nurse Amanda had spoken to the at the Seaview Retirement Home explained that Mrs. Baxter loved to have visitors and was very willing to see her. Amanda had enquired as to what her likes and dislikes were, so she might bring a gift. The registered nurse said that Mrs. Baxter was a lover of quality sherry and fruit cake, although she did have trouble with her dentures, so if Amanda was going to bring cake, it needed to be moist. Amanda dutifully acquired a bottle of fine sherry and a moist fruitcake.

Amanda fuelled her car at a popular truck stop just outside of Maryborough, pausing to indulge in one of their famous steak sandwiches with chips. Checking her smartphone, she noticed that Roman had finally accepted her friend request on Facebook. Amanda flipped through Roman’s page as she ate. Going to Phoebe’s page from his, she carefully examined Phoebe’s friends and the sorts of things she liked. The page was a gold mine of information, offering several new leads to follow. Satisfied, Amanda finished her lunch and left.

The rest of the journey went smoothly and Amanda pulled into the Seaview Retirement Home a little sooner than expected. After visiting the administration office, Amanda was escorted to the dining room, where Edna had just finished her lunch.

Edna Baxter was a tiny little wizened old lady with stooped shoulders and wispy hair. After some small talk, Amanda realized she was intelligent and articulate. Amanda hoped she was also observant.

“Perfect!” Edna exclaimed at the gifts Amanda presented her with. “A little after lunch sherry will go down nicely.”

The pair went to sit outside. After Edna was set up with a piece of cake and a glass of sherry they began to chat.

Amanda explained that she worked for the barrister who represented Michael.

“I’ve been watching the news, you know.” Edna stated. “I’ve seen young Michael. He’s in a world of trouble,” Edna remarked sharply.

Amanda waited for her to say more.

“One thing I know about my adopted grandson is he’s not the type to kill. He’d far too kind-hearted for that. Harry couldn’t even get him to shoot kangaroos and rabbits to keep the paddocks pastured for the stock. Never mind killing his wife.” Edna rolled her eyes emphatically.

She took a sip of her sherry and smacked her lips, eyeing Amanda. Amanda took that to be a signal to explain herself a little more.

“I don’t think he did it either,” Amanda offered.

Edna leaned forward a little and said conspiratorially, “Got any clues who did?”

Amanda’s face revealed her frustration with the case.

Edna shrewdly said, “How can I help?”

“Can you please tell me about Michael and his brother when they first arrived here? A little bit of family background would be good, too.”

Edna looked towards the gardens. Her eyes assumed a far away look as she remembered the past.

After a moment, she said, “Harry’s younger sister, Mary, was a madcap thing. Always in trouble. Had big dreams, that girl. Well, let me tell you, Biggenden’s hardly the place for big dreamers.”

Amanda nodded. She realized that even if she got nothing useful, she was going to enjoy the experience. Edna was obviously an excellent storyteller.

“In those days, the best a girl could hope for in a small town like that was to find a decent husband and start a family. She just had to pray he didn’t turn into a drinker or a gambler or a wife-basher, like so many men.” Edna paused to take a slow sip, relishing her sherry.

“That was exactly what my girl Ranelle did. Ranelle was the sweetest thing. I think of her everyday. It’s not fair for a mother to outlive her children, especially a child like Ranelle. Had a heart as big as the Sydney Opera House. She found a herself a decent husband in Harry, but after years of trying, there were no children.” Edna shook her frail head, remembering.

Amanda noticed that Edna’s eyes had become a little teary.

Edna said, “God always takes those he loves the most the soonest, they say.”

Shaking off her sadness, she continued, “In the mean time, that wild young sister of Harry’s had taken off. She got a job on a cruise liner in Sydney and ended up in New York City, of all places. Used to send post cards to Harry with pictures of all the ports she saw along the way.”

Amanda settled back in her chair, enjoying the family history.

Edna continued, motioning for Amanda to pour her another glass of sherry. “Next thing we hear, Mary’s met some flash young American and they’re getting married. Jefferson Charlton, the heir to Charlton family enterprises, no less. Mary always did aim high. Anyway, I found out later she was already pregnant.” Edna snorted before continuing, “Charlton’s mother, a strict Catholic, made him do the right thing, even though his father was against the match. Well, sooner than was decent, little Stillman came along. Named for Charlton’s mother’s family, apparently.”

Amanda nodded.

“Next was the most gorgeous little girl. They gave her a fancy name, Honore, but she wasn’t an uppity or snobbish child. She was kind and generous, same as young Michael. They came out to visit with the children once, before young Michael was born much later. Honore was an adorable child.”

Amanda interrupted, “What were they like, Mary and her husband? Did they get along?”

“They weren’t happy, if that’s what you want to know. Mary got everything she dreamed of and she still wasn’t happy.”

Amanda nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with having lots of money!” Edna laughed, “But at the end of the day, if you’re not satisfied or happy, money won’t fix it.”

“Was he violent or nasty to her?” Amanda asked.

“Not from what I could see,” Edna replied. “He was very gentlemanly and tolerant, he wasn’t much of a drinker either. The problem was always her. Her attitude, the way she spoiled her eldest son, and ignored her little daughter. The way she disrespected her husband and seemed to think she was hard done by, like she missed out on something. Only the Lord knows what? Well, I guess she drove him to madness in the end.”

Amanda probed, “You said she spoiled her eldest son?”

“Yes. She doted on that child far more than was healthy. It showed later on, that’s for sure. She just about ignored her husband in favor of her son, silly woman.” Becoming sidetracked, Edna added, “Mind you, I don’t condone what he did. Killing his wife and child, especially that child, is monstrous.” Edna again shook her head.

“Still every cloud has a silver lining and that was what gave my beautiful Ranelle her chance to be a mother. She loved Michael more than you can imagine.”

“What was Stillman like?” Amanda asked.

Edna’s face clouded over, her expression becoming angry, “I don’t like to call any child obnoxious, but he was exactly that. He was completely different to the other two children. I’ve often wondered if Charlton was even his father. I wouldn’t have put it past Mary to have trapped him that way.”

Edna paused, before telling Amanda more about Stillman, “Even as a youngster he had no feeling for others, not even his mother. I could tell he listened to her, but he wasn’t warm toward her. He hated his sister and paid no heed at all to his father. He was such a large, strong child. He used his size to intimidate his sister and other children too, I’ll bet.”

“What about when he was older and he came over with Michael?”

“That’s when his true colors started to come out even stronger, if you ask me. Of course Ranelle and Harry only saw good in him. They used to say his behavior was because of what had happened, but I knew better. It was just his twisted nature coming through. I never saw any sign of grief in that boy. It was like he didn’t care. He never was any help to Michael. Little Michael was in so much pain. He was so confused.”

“What do you mean twisted nature?”

“He was the sort of boy that used to find pleasure in the suffering of other creatures and other people. I caught him once, torturing a cat. He laughed at me, completely unashamed. He was always nasty to his little brother and not once did he accept the love offered to him by my Ranelle or his uncle Harry.”

“I see,” Amanda replied.

“There’s a show I’ve been watching, you might know it young lady. It’s all the rage. Anyway there’s a character in it that’s just Stillman all over. Made me shudder when I saw him. King Joffrey, his name is. One of those Lannisters.”

Oh my God, you watch Game of Thrones?” Amanda exclaimed, shocked.

“If you don’t keep up, you get passed by, as my dear father used to say.” Edna replied smugly. “I always try to keep up, unlike the old fools I’m surrounded with. They just want to live in the past.” Edna pointed toward the nursing home.

Amanda was still gob-smacked when Edna continued, “Anyway, we didn’t have to put up with him for long. Thank God, the child ran off after about a month or so. He would have been about thirteen or fourteen, which is old enough to work in these parts. I’ve no doubt he made his way. People like that always do.” Edna’s face was a mask of disgust.

“Michael thinks he’s dead,” Amanda said.

“Not that one.” Edna replied firmly, taking another sip of sherry. “You mark my words. He’s out there somewhere, causing someone or something pain. If he can survive what his father did, he can survive anything.”

“Did you ever speak to Michael about him?”

Edna replied, “No. After he left, I never spoke about him again. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”

*****

Amanda called Charlie when she hit the outskirts of Brisbane later that afternoon, knowing she would be out of court by then. 

“Charlie, you’ll never guess?” Amanda said excitedly into the speakerphone when Charlie answered.

“Hang on Amanda, there’s something you should know. The police found Marita Sanchez dead in her apartment today.”

“Oh my God! Murdered?” Amanda replied.

“Yes, the back of her head was staved in. It’s not public yet. Darren got it unofficially through one of his police mates. They’ll be picking Michael up soon, no doubt.”

“What possible motive could he have for killing off his alibi?” Amanda retorted.

“I agree, it doesn’t make any sense, but you know how it goes, they’ll need to speak to him anyway, last movements and all that.” Charlie replied.

Amanda replied, “Charlie, Edna Baxter told me a fascinating tale. She might be old, but she’s totally with it and up to date. She actually watches Game of Thrones. An amazing lady. Anyway, she believes Stillman is alive and well and out there causing someone somewhere pain, to use her words. She likened him to Joffrey in Game of Thrones.”

“That bad?”

“Yes, an animal torturer as a child. An extremely cold and nasty individual, according to her.”

Charlie replied, “That sheds a new light on things. What’s his motive?” Charlie paused then added, “Does he even need one?”

“I know what you’re saying. Is he a sociopath? Who knows? If he’s still alive and behind this, it could just be money. Imagine if Phoebe is dead and then Michael is killed off, Stillman inherits the untouched Charlton fortune.” Amanda replied.

“And the extra millions in insurance money,” Charlie added. Then she said, “Yes, but that doesn’t explain the mistress.”

“Maybe she knew something? Maybe she knew Stillman?” Amanda replied, perplexed.

“How do we find Stillman?” Charlie said.

“Darren was going to ask Phoebe to track the Charlton inheritance and see if Stillman has accessed his share and when.”

“I’ll chase that up with him.” Charlie replied, “See you when you get back into work tomorrow.”

*****

After getting off the phone with Charlie, Darren called Phoebe.

“Mrs. Rawlins, It’s Darren Franks here.”

“Please call me Phoebe. How can I help?” Phoebe replied evenly.

Darren explained that they needed to track Stillman’s inheritance and that Michael had authorized him to ask for her assistance.

“I’ll do my best, Darren.” Phoebe replied, “I’m really not sure how easy that will be. I’ll need Michael to sign an authority for me before they’ll release any information. I’ll definitely need the missing persons report or a letter from the police to say that Stillman has been gone all these years, too. Can you arrange those for me?” Phoebe asked.

“I’ll get those over to you as soon as I can.”

Phoebe asked quietly, “How is he?”

Darren hesitated before replying, “Michael has been very helpful. He keeps asking after you. Of course, there’s very little I can tell him, with the bail conditions being what they are.”

“Thanks Darren, I understand,” Phoebe said softly. She added in a concerned voice, “Is he getting some help?”

“I’ve arranged a psychiatrist and I’m in the process of finding him a good psychologist, too, for some emotional support.”