The Charlton Affair (21 page)

“Mark Mitchell is an expert in networks.”

“Bloody hell! I thought he was a business consultant. At least that’s what Roman said he was.”

“He is. His platform is business development. He designs complex solutions for business improvement. Some of his clients are major players. But his own background is in networks engineering according to the bio on his site,” Amanda replied.

“And he’s very muscular.” Charlie said, her voice sinking.

“And Phoebe’s been right there with him all this time.”

“It can’t be him! He’s had plenty of opportunity to get at her and nothing happened!” Charlie’s voice sounded horrified. She groaned in sheer frustration and disbelief, adding, “No way. It makes no sense. He looks too young to be Stillman.”

“I agree, he’s probably not Stillman, unless he’s had cosmetic surgery. But he is a muscular man who’s an expert at IT,” Amanda reiterated, adding, “He needs to be checked out, even if it’s just to rule him off the list.”

Charlie conceded, “You’re right, of course, but I can’t do that to Roman. Not when I don’t really believe it could be Mark.”

“How can you be sure?”

Charlie hesitated, before responding, “I guess I can’t. This is horrible.”

“If he’s not Stillman or not being paid by Stillman or Michael, there’s no real harm done.”

“I’m not so sure about that, but I’d hate myself if something happened, unlikely as it seems.”

Amanda replied, “Phoebe’s safe for the moment at her new flat. But then again, I guess Roman and Mark are with her today, helping her move.”

Charlie said, “I’ll call Darren now and get him to pass it on to the police straight away.”

“Of course. In the mean time, I’ll try to think of something to keep her out of harms way,” Amanda replied, her mind doing overtime to come up with a solution, “I can go over there if you like?”

Charlie replied, “It’s OK, I hired a guard last night to keep an eye on her, after you told me she was moving out. My guy’s reporting to me on the hour. At the moment she’s in the new flat. The movers have been and gone and the fridge has just arrived,” Charlie said smugly.

Amanda was relieved, but a little taken aback by the extremity of Charlie’s actions.

“Stay on the gym thing. I know, strictly speaking, it shouldn’t be our concern but let me know if they show up,” Charlie said before ending the call.

Amanda sat in the car, wondering why she was uncomfortable with the idea of Charlie hiring personal security for Phoebe. She knew Charlie was deeply affected by Phoebe. She wasn’t actually surprised she’d hired a guard. It was the fact that Phoebe didn’t know about it that bothered her. Everyone was so intent on covering Phoebe in cotton wool and looking after her. Sometimes they forgot she was an adult woman capable of making her own decisions.

Delving deeper, she realized that it wasn’t Phoebe she was upset for, it was herself. Her husband John often did to her what Charlie was doing to Phoebe. He made decisions for her benefit without consulting her. Sometimes it was as simple as him booking them a weekend away fishing without asking her. She hadn’t realized how annoyed she was about it until now. She knew he only meant the best, but it was insulting.

Just then she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Putting the laptop down and making sure she stayed as still as possible, she focused on the car that had just pulled up at the gym. She saw Sanchez’s large friend get out of his car and grab his gym bag before going inside. Amanda prepared herself to wait patiently. This time she was determined to follow him when he left. Charlie needed her to investigate everything, even though the results might be prejudicial to her client.

The last thing Darren or Charlie needed was evidence that connected Michael to the muscular guy, but Charlie wanted her to follow up every lead for Phoebe’s sake. Amanda agreed. It wouldn’t be a proper investigation if she ignored things because they were inconvenient. She didn’t have long to wait. The big guy left the gym within thirty minutes.

*****

Even though it was her day off, Sally sat at her computer researching the connections in Phoebe’s life. She was supposed to be at the shops getting some fresh seafood for a family barbeque that afternoon. Her husband had taken the kids to little gymnastics, as he did every Saturday.
I’ll just finish this and then I’ll go
, she promised herself.

She clicked on Mark Mitchell’s business site. It was an impressively put together website. Scrolling through the list of services his company provided, she noticed they offered networking solutions along with an impressive array of marketing and design options. She knew Phillips had already been over this ground, but she clicked on his bio anyway.
Oh my God
, she exclaimed to herself. 

Just as she was reaching for her work phone, it rang.

She answered it calmly, “Hi Darren, got something for me?”

“Yes, actually,” Darren replied.

“Go ahead,” Sally replied, as she reached for a pen and some paper.

“Mark Mitchell is an IT expert,” Darren said.

Sally replied, “Yes, I know, but thanks for the tip anyway. Did it come from Jessop?”

“Yes.”

Grudgingly Sally replied, “It’s a good pick up. Tell her to keep the information coming in.”

“So you’ve ruled him out then? Look, we don’t think it’s him, but I needed to flag it with you.”

Sally paused, before admitting, “We haven’t necessarily ruled him out.”

Darren said, “He’s over at Phoebe Rawlins new place at Southbank.”

“New place?”

“Didn’t she tell you?”

“No,” Sally replied tightly. “What’s the address?”

Darren gave it to her.

“Thanks Darren.” Sally ended the call and called Phillips. She filled him in and said, “I asked you to check him out, didn’t I?”

Phillips replied, puzzled, “Yes, I thought he was a business improvement consultant?”

She growled, “Actually, he’s an expert in systems development and networks. How the fuck did we miss this?”

Phillips sounded abashed as he admitted, “I fobbed it off to one of the junior Constables. I didn’t check it myself.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Phillips!” Sally said, unsuccessfully trying not to sound as mad as she felt.

“We crossed him off the list already. He’s tall and muscular but he’s got no motive and no connection to Michael Rawlins. We looked at that.”

“That was before we knew about the brother. Get someone to pick up Mark Mitchell and bring him in,” She told him, “Not a junior Constable. Get Price to do it. I want him questioned as soon as possible. Apparently he’s at Phoebe Rawlins’ new apartment in Southbank. I’ll text you the address. Call me when you have him.”

*****

Amanda was incredibly glad her Dad had been the one to teach her to drive. Extremely confident and capable in any vehicle, she could drive defensively and aggressively. She shifted the nondescript Mazda sedan up a gear as she took the corner fast, determined not to lose the Nissan Maxima she was tailing. The Maxima disappeared around another corner well ahead of her. She slammed her foot down and took the next corner at speed, entering an industrial area in the suburb of Mayne, north of the city center.

Despite it being Saturday afternoon, the place was busy with all sorts of vehicles, including heavy vehicles and even some forklifts that probably should not be on the road. After slowing down, she looked ahead. The Maxima had also slowed. There were several trucks and cars between them now. The Maxima indicated left and Amanda pulled over into the nearest safe spot. After pulling out her camera, she took some photos of the industrial site the Maxima had driven into. The fence looked serviceable but not well maintained. It surrounded a large warehouse type building and a collection of shipping containers scattered around the property. There was no sign, only a large set of chains hanging from one of the open main gates and a large padlock on the other.

Amanda put the camera down and took a slow drive past the site before parking behind a copse of trees a little further down the road in what looked like an informal car park for local workers. The Maxima was parked near one of the shipping containers. From her position behind the copse, she could see the site entrance through the trees, not clearly, but enough to see when the Maxima left.

She opened the laptop and quickly entered the site address into the RP Data page. It came back with a bland company name, SM Investments Ltd, as the site owner. The property had been purchased the previous year. She went to the Australian Securities and Investments Commission website and performed a business name search. It confirmed the business was still registered. After logging remotely into her work server, she looked at the handy sheet of passwords and usernames she kept for the services Charlie used. She found the one for ASIC Company searches and ordered the search. It would cost Charlie about thirty-four dollars but she knew Charlie wouldn’t mind. The report was computer generated and would take time to arrive in Amanda’s email box.

She called Charlie to update her before returning to her examination of Roman’s Facebook page as she waited for the Maxima to emerge. After about thirty minutes, a link arrived in her work email. She clicked it and it gave her the option to download the report. The directors of SM Investments were Mr. Stephen Morrow and Mr. Joff McCallum. She wondered if one of them drove the Nissan Maxima.

Looking up Morrow on the internet revealed nothing of interest. Joff McCallum turned out to be an accountant. A sole practitioner who specialized in setting up corporations and advising on business models. His office was in Toowong, a relatively inner western suburb of Brisbane. Amanda leaned back in the car seat and continued to wait as she contemplated her next move.

*****

Phoebe watched Mark walk around the place with a satisfied smile.

Mark turned to Phoebe from his position near the front door and announced, “It looks fantastic!”

The apartment had all the essential items, a lounge, TV, bed, fridge, washer and dryer. It still required an outdoor setting for the balcony, some arm chairs, a dining setting and a coffee table, not to mention filling the empty spare bedroom. Nonetheless, it looked great so far. She was amazed at how easily they’d turned an empty space into a home. Roman had even artfully arranged a small posy of flowers in a vase on the kitchen bench.

Phoebe smiled up at him, “Thank you so much, Mark. For everything!”

She went over and hugged him tightly, “You guys are wonderful.” Taking a step back she looked up at his face. “And thanks for your support. It means a lot to me.”

Mark smiled down at her, “Roman should be back in another half an hour or so. I really hope he finds us some decent food.”

*****

Roman pulled up in the driveway outside the apartment block. He dialed Mark to come down and swipe him into the car park. There was no answer. He dialed again and there was no answer. Eventually the phone went to voicemail. Frustrated, he dialed one more time.
At this rate we’ll be eating cold pizza
, he thought grumpily. He called Phoebe instead. No answer.

Impatiently, he got out of the car, still clutching his phone. As he made for the entrance gate, he stepped over the garden edging. He watched where he was stepping and was horrified to see booted feet sticking horizontally out of a garden bed near the car park entrance. With extreme trepidation he approached and peered into the bush covering the man. He looked like he was unconscious.

Roman’s chest tightened in tension and fear. He immediately dialed for an ambulance as he came even closer, straining to see if the man was breathing or not. He followed the emergency operator’s instructions and placed a hand on the man’s chest. There was warmth and faint movement. The operator told him to roll the man over onto his left side, making sure he could breathe. He checked the pulse at his neck. It was strong.

Roman’s heart was beating so hard it felt like it would jump right out of his ribs. He vaguely remembered something about the recovery position from a first aid class he’d done a long time ago. Once the man was on his left side, his breathing seemed to get deeper. Roman could see a large bleeding gash on the back of his head. After taking off his sweater, he pushed it up against the man’s head in an effort to stop the bleeding. The operator reassured him and said there would be a crew of paramedics and police there shortly.

Suddenly it occurred to him that Mark and Phoebe might not be safe. Forgetting about the unconscious man, he ran frantically to the front gate and pressed every apartment button he could, yelling to be let in. Someone released the gate lock. He did the same thing at the entrance, and again someone let him in. He punched the lift button in desperation. He could hardly contain himself as the lift rose. It felt like it was taking a lifetime to get there. Finally he made it to the thirteenth floor and bolted to Phoebe’s door. It was ajar. He ran inside, crying out Mark’s name. He checked every room. They were all empty. Roman was crushed by the dread he felt. He sank to his knees with his head in his hands and cried, utterly certain that something truly horrible had happened.