The Charlton Affair (9 page)

Amanda nodded, surprised at Charlie’s vehemence.

*****

Michael walked around his Hamilton home. It felt empty without Phoebe, even though she was normally a quiet woman. She was being discharged from the hospital at the end of the day and he wanted to make certain everything was right for her return. She had suffered so much lately. He hated for any living creature to suffer, but especially her. She was so vulnerable.

He moved from room to room, tidying. His iPad and her Kindle Fire went into the drawers in their bedside tables, and the lounge and kitchen clutter was placed in the appropriate cupboards. The cleaner would arrive soon to dust and do the floors and bathrooms. He had been grocery shopping and made sure the pool was cleaned.

Humming as he worked, he anticipated his date with his lover that afternoon. The time he spent with her before he picked up his wife from the hospital would be exciting and fulfilling. She had hinted at something different and kinky. He couldn’t wait.

*****

Phoebe coughed and was wracked by excruciating agony. Any sudden movement of her chest left her breathless with pain. The nurses had told her not to cough, but she found it impossible not to at times.

Roman, visiting the hospital on a break from work, held her water cup up and moved the straw to her lips. She looked at him as she sipped the soothing water. She had never seen him looking so unpolished.
He needs a haircut and his suit isn’t perfectly pressed.
That adds up to ragged for Roman.
She noticed he looked tired and had lines around his eyes, which she had also never seen before.

She smiled at him, “My angel,” she said with affection.

He harrumphed and said, “A fairy, yes. An angel, no.”

She struggled not to laugh. The pain from laughter was as bad as when she coughed.

“Lovely flowers,” he noted, looking at an enormous bouquet sitting on the side table near her hospital bed.

Phoebe sighed sadly, “Michael,” she said.

Roman looked at her, “Sweets, you have to do something about him. You know you do.”

“I know. But he’s just so caring. And he understands how I feel. He really seems to know what it’s like to be terrified.”

Looking her in the eye he said firmly, “If you aren’t going to continue with him, you shouldn’t string him along. Please come and live with us until you know what you’re doing.”

Phoebe did not want to go back to Hamilton. The house still felt uncomfortable to her. The idea of staying with Roman and Mark was lovely, but she wasn’t sure she could handle the memories of Charlie she was certain the New Farm house would inspire. Too tired to think about it, she laid her head back on the pillow. She would worry about it later.

*****

Amanda started researching in earnest. She had already obtained some startling results. Michael’s adoptive parents, Harry and Ranelle Rawlins, had died by gas poisoning in their home about ten years ago. Amanda had paid for their death certificates through an online service. She then contacted the local librarian, Marion Edgeley, in the small Queensland town of Biggenden, where the Rawlins home was.

The librarian had lived in the town for decades and she clearly remembered the deaths. The loss of Harry and Ranelle Rawlins had rocked the entire community at the time. The police investigation yielded no conclusive results and it was presumed to have been accidental. It was put it down to the house being an old Queenslander and the pipes being worn and leaky.

The old house was still there. The librarian said a service came from Maryborough, the nearest large town, and did the lawns and cleaned it every so often. The son, Michael, never came up anymore. He had come up regularly when the Rawlins were alive, though.

Amanda asked about the other son, the older one, Stillman. The librarian had never known the older son. All she knew was that he had disappeared years ago. Amanda arranged to meet up with her the following day at lunchtime. The librarian agreed to show her the articles from the local paper about the deaths and take her to the Rawlins house, although she couldn’t take her inside.

After finishing the call, Amanda arranged for a hire car and a room at the local hotel. It was a four-hour drive one way and that meant an overnight stay. The next thing she did was to call a temp agency. Having made the arrangements for a suitable replacement to perform her regular duties, she moved to her next task.

She was unable to find any records on any of the online services for a Stillman Rawlins or a Stillman Charlton. It was a complete dead end. She didn’t want to get her Dad in trouble again, so she stopped looking for the moment and took up another task.

Deciding to go out on a limb, she went to her Facebook account and sent a friend request to Roman. He was a friend of Charlie’s, so it wasn’t hard to find him. She hoped he would agree. If he did, then she might be able to look at Phoebe’s Facebook page, depending on her privacy settings.

Setting the telephone to divert, she left Charlie’s chambers and walked over the river to the State Library where a whole new world of databases and records awaited her avid perusal.

*****

Sally Middleton examined the flight information her off-sider, Detective Senior Constable Karl Phillips, had obtained.
Well, well,
she thought, smiling.
Gotcha
.
The wife said you were in Timor, but you flew into Brisbane on the morning of the crash.
Calling out to Phillips, she said, “Come on, let’s go get a search warrant for Rawlins’ house.”

“We just might have enough to arrest him, you know.” Phillips said.

“I don’t think so, but if we get something from the house, that might change,” she replied.

An hour later, Sally, Phillips and several uniformed officers commenced searching the Hamilton house, despite Michael’s protests.

*****

Frantic, Michael called Darren Franks.

“Jesus Christ Darren! They think I had something to do with Phoebe’s crash. They think I did something to her car!” Michael burst out.

“Have they arrested you?” Darren asked.

“No. But they showed me a warrant. Now they’re taking the house to pieces. I’m supposed to go get Phoebe from the hospital later on.”

“Find somewhere else for her to stay. I’ll be there soon. If they ask you any questions, don’t answer them. Understand?”

Calling Phoebe, Michael explained that she would have to go stay with Roman due to a problem with the house. He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible.

“Is everything OK?” Phoebe asked him.

“It’s fine, darling. I’ve just got some people here doing some work and it’s really messy and loud. I’ll call you when it’s safe to come back. I really don’t want you to slip and fall on anything. It’s just safer for you to go to Roman’s at first.”

Darren arrived within twenty minutes and examined the warrant. He explained to Michael that there was nothing they could do to stop them searching, but that he would stay for the remainder of the search and watch them carefully.

Michael heard Darren speaking to the policewoman in charge in a hearty voice.

“Sally, good to see you.”

“Darren, you too. How’s the family?”

“All good, and yours?” Darren replied affably.

Michael could see they knew each other well. He supposed that was normal in small circles like criminal law in Brisbane, but he was annoyed nonetheless. His house was being pulled apart while they chitchatted.

He watched as Darren drew the policewoman away and they seemed to talk in earnest. He wished he could hear them.

Soon Darren came over and took him outside, away from police ears.

“She says they won’t arrest you today, unless they find something.”

Michael felt like he was losing control.

He exclaimed angrily, “Look, I want these people out of here.”

Memories of police and other people asking him questions flooded his head. He felt like he was going to explode. Exerting himself, he tried to concentrate on what his solicitor was telling him.

Darren said, “They say your wife’s car was tampered with, although they won’t say how or what proof they have. They know you were back in Brisbane a day before you told your wife you would be, they know she’s insured for five million. I believe if they find out about your mistress, they’ll arrest you straight away. Anyway, they have enough for the warrant.”

Michael, consumed with his memories, wasn’t listening closely and didn’t respond.

Suddenly he heard Darren calling his name. He stared up at him, trying to focus.

“There’s one other thing, Michael, brace yourself. You’re not going to like this at all.”

Michael looked at him, bewildered,
how much worse could it be
, he wondered.

“The police know about your true identity.” Darren said.

Michael felt dizzy. He struggled to breath. A huge weight landed on his chest and a tingling sensation went down his arms. He staggered and would have collapsed, but for Darren’s strong grasp.

*****

That evening Phoebe sat ensconced in a plethora of blankets and cushions on Roman’s luxurious lounge while Mark prepared chicken soup for her. The Apple TV control was within easy reach, giving her access to Roman’s entire array of downloaded content at her fingertips. As Roman had said,
what more could a girl want?

Phoebe knew what else she wanted.
More than wanted
, she thought sourly. Doctor Briggs was right. She was in grief and loss, but not for her marriage, for Charlie. For the fleeting moments of bliss she experienced in her arms. For that feeling of rightness she had felt, a feeling she had never experienced in a man’s embrace. She had peppered Roman with questions about Charlie but he refused to tell her much, other than how he met her and what he knew about her previous relationships.

Phoebe knew he had seen Charlie since the party, probably for coffee at that ridiculous chocolateria he loved, knowing Roman. All he would say was that Charlie had been extremely relieved to hear she was OK. It was unlike him to be so reticent about anything. Certain she was missing something about all of this, she tried to puzzle it out, but she was so tired and sore it was hard to concentrate on anything. Looking up, she saw Mark’s heavyset form approaching with a tray. Something smelled delicious.

*****

Marita stormed up and down her apartment, fuming. He’s never stood me up this late before, she thought. He was supposed to be here hours ago. Her telephone calls and texts had gone unanswered.
His stupid wife has a car crash and he’s all over her again. Men are all the same. I should kill the bitch myself, just to save time. Why is it taking him so long to leave her? What am I going to do if he doesn’t?

Chapter Eight

Amanda enjoyed long drives, even uneventful ones. Playing her favorite music up loud, she sang along as the countryside flew past. It was a wonderful way to spend a perfect, fine, sunny morning. She drove north along the highway, through the lush green forests of the Sunshine Coast hinterland. Eventually she turned further inland. Driving across the flat green farmland, she soon arrived in Biggenden. With a population of less than seven hundred people, it was very small town.

The hotel was easy to find. It was right on the town’s only main road. It was nothing fancy but it would do for a night. Amanda didn’t mind. She figured she could gather all sorts of information from the pub’s clientele. Pub food was usually plentiful and hearty, too.

Checking in, she grabbed her room key, asked for directions and then headed for the library. One of the older buildings in the town, it was not difficult to find. The librarian, Marion Edgeley, was waiting for her. Marion was in her forties, a tall thin woman with reading glasses and medium length brown hair. She wore practical clothing and did not look at all bookish, defying Amanda’s expectations.

Marion gave Amanda a quick tour of the library and they settled down to look at all of the articles and information Marion had been able to find about the Rawlins. She had thoughtfully already made copies for Amanda.

Harry and Ranelle had been found dead in their bed by neighbors just over ten years ago. They were in their late sixties and still actively working their farm. They were a much loved part of the Biggenden community and were sorely missed. The Rawlins family went back many generations in the area.

Police had not discovered signs of anything suspicious and the Rawlins had no enemies, so the investigation was over quickly. A gas pipe was found to have been leaking. Sometimes old houses moved and creaked, especially the old weatherboard ones so common in rural Queensland. A violent storm had occurred the night before the bodies were discovered and police thought the storm had moved or shaken the old house, resulting in the pipe coming loose. It was not an unrealistic theory.

After they finished perusing the information, Marion closed up the library and they drove out to the old Rawlins farmhouse. Amanda was struck by the flat expanse of land on all sides of the old homestead. The nearest neighbors were only distantly visible. The only other buildings were a large shed at the rear of the house and several smaller sheds in the paddocks. The house itself was a rambling two story Queenslander with wrap around verandahs. The old bay windows and fret work looked clean and tidy, although it was easy to tell no one lived there.

Marion said, “Sometimes the local kids come out here and break in, carrying on, you know?”

Amanda nodded.

“But there’s not a lot of kids in this town, so the local copper always knows who to go after.” Marion chuckled, “Silly buggers.”

“Looks like the typical lay out, kitchen at the back, bedrooms upstairs, lounge at the front?” Amanda asked.

“Yes, that’s right. It even has all the old furniture and goods still inside. Michael hasn’t changed a thing.”

“Strange,” Amanda commented.

Marion shrugged, “I don’t know him well, but he was devastated at the funeral.”

“Yes. I imagine to lose both of them at once must have been very hard.” Amanda replied.

Looking at the house, Amanda asked, “Looks like it has an attic?”

“Yes, that’s right, it’s not common in a lot of these old homes, but some of them have one. I don’t think it’s an actual room, more of a storage space.”

“Why does Michael keep it, do you think?” Amanda asked.

“I don’t know. It would be better for the town if another family moved in. Perhaps he likes having the connection to the place? Perhaps he couldn’t face it or never got around to it?”

Amanda thanked her for taking her out to see the old place. Amanda’s next stop was the local police station. The young officer on duty was neither helpful nor interested. Returning to the hotel to spend some time in the bar, Amanda chatted to the pub’s regulars.

None of the men in the old fashioned bar had anything useful to add to what Marion had said, except for regaling her with some stories of old Harry Rawlins, who had been a frequent visitor to the pub. Only one of them remembered Michael’s brother, Stillman. All he was able to say was that Stillman ran off, soon after his arrival from the United States. The police never found him and Harry had remained worried for Stillman until the day he died. Amanda asked the men if anyone else around the town had been close to the Rawlins, and were still alive. Amazingly, she discovered that Ranelle’s mother was still alive. The old lady was in her nineties now and she lived in a nursing home in Hervey Bay, near Maryborough.

After her evening meal, Amanda retired to her room to rest. After lying down on the metal frame single bed in the small bare cube, she looked up at the dusty old tongue and groove ceiling that was sorely in need of a fresh coat of paint. Contemplating her next move, Amanda thought about what supplies she might require for her evenings work. She mentally cataloged the things she’d brought with her as she lay there. Confident she had everything she would need, she closed her eyes. She had a busy night ahead of her and a catnap was a good idea.

*****

Charlie was watching an old movie and despondently eating a microwave meal when her phone rang.

“Hi Darren,” Charlie answered, after seeing his number on her display.

“Guess what?” Darren said, in the voice he reserved for very special news.

“Something to do with Michael Rawlins?” Charlie said, unsurprised.

“You knew!” Darren accused, sounding unhappy his surprise had been ruined.

“Yup,” Charlie replied smugly. “But I don’t know any details, so what’s the go? Did they arrest him?”

Sounding glad he could still impart some news, Darren filled her in on the police search the day before, explaining what they had on him.

“They took all the computers and electronic devices, which is odd for a suspected vehicle tampering,” Darren finished. “You’d think they’d take tools for that.”

“Did he seem concerned about them taking the computers?” Charlie asked.

“Not really, he was busy having a meltdown. I’m not sure it even sank in that they took the computers.”

“Meltdown?”

“He went pale and kind of shut down, right after I told him the police know his true identity. He was pretty upset before that, but after that, well, I actually thought he was having a heart attack.”

“That’s really sad. I wonder if he felt exposed or if there’s more to it?” Charlie mused. Then she asked, “Do you know Middleton?”

“Yes. She’s OK. She didn’t have to say anything to me but she gave me the basics. She won’t play games, but on the other hand, she won’t hesitate to act if she thinks she’s got enough. We won’t get many breaks from her.”

“Anything else?” Charlie asked.

“Nothing unusual. They wanted to interview him, but I said no.”

“If they find anything on those computers, they’ll arrest him.” Charlie remarked.

“They’ll arrest him the moment they find out about the mistress.” Darren chuckled.

“Yes, that’s true. Well, I guess we just have to wait and see.” Charlie replied. She added, “Do you think he’s trying to kill his wife?”

“He just doesn’t strike me as the type, to be honest,” Darren replied. “But then again, I’ve been surprised before. I really don’t think he was acting yesterday, though. He was genuinely disturbed by the police search.”

“I guess, with his past, that sort of thing would be disturbing to him.” Charlie speculated.

“I know what you mean. That sort of violence can really change people, especially kids. But when I think about it objectively, he doesn’t really need her insurance money, not with the Charlton fortune.”

“I agree. I don’t think his desire to keep his wife from his fortune or his other assets is actually motivated by money,” Charlie theorized. “I don’t really understand it, but I think it could have something to do with the way he feels about his past. Your description of his reaction yesterday makes me think he just can’t cope with things from the past being disturbed. I don’t really know, though. I’m just throwing ideas around.”

Darren replied, “It’s a weird one, all right.”

Ending the call, she reflected that at least Phoebe was safe. Roman had sent her a terse text yesterday, advising that Phoebe was with him and Mark for the time being.

*****

Hiding her car carefully in a convenient roadside copse, Amanda slid from the drivers seat, slung her backpack over her shoulder and then walked quietly along the road and down the drive to the old Rawlins place. Moving circumspectly through the dark night she stepped softly up onto the back verandah, near the rear entrance to the kitchen. It had an old fashioned door, with the top section separated into glass quarter panes. Using a pillowcase from the pub to muffle the noise of the glass breaking, she elbowed a small pane. She reached in and down and undid the latch, being careful not to cut her arm on any shards.
Dad would be so upset with me if he knew I was breaking and entering
.

She carefully closed the door behind her, trying to not make too much noise by crunching her shoes on the glass shards. The nearest neighbor was at least a kilometer away, but it was one of those utterly still Queensland nights, where sound travels and moisture hangs in the air. Amanda was not sure if she was sweating from the humidity or the stress of performing a criminal act. The dark clothing she wore, fully covering all of her extremities and the gloves and head covering were also contributing to her discomfort. She could not afford to leave any fingerprints or stray hairs behind, so she didn’t dare remove anything. She was hopeful the locals would just put the break-in down to some kids up to mischief again.

She took some time just standing and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside. She also listened for any movement in case the neighbors had heard something. Soon her eyes adjusted and she could clearly see the old kitchen benches and the doorway opposite. She was careful not to bump into anything as she made her way through the old house. She had a small narrow-beam torch, but was loath to use it until she had to. Any light would be easily seen across the flat green expanse, especially if it was moving about.

Eerily quiet, the old house felt intensely uncomfortable. Shrugging off her unease she made her way to the bedrooms upstairs. She examined them with the torch. They were entirely unremarkable. There was a desk in one of the rooms, probably Michael’s, yielding nothing.

After a careful examination of the tongue and groove ceilings, she found the pull-down ladder to the attic storage space in the hall. The loud creak it made when she released it startled her. Heart racing, she paused until she settled down, again listening for any other noises. Hearing nothing, she gingerly climbed up, trying hard not to cough from all the dust she was disturbing.

The small attic space was windowless, but typical of homes of that era, it did have some wide ventilation vents. As she shone the torch around, she saw many old packing crates. It would take a while to look through them all. She un-shouldered her backpack and took out a couple of canvas drop sheets and some tape. Efficiently, she covered up the ventilation vents, ensuring no light would escape. After setting up a hurricane lamp she set to work meticulously going through each box.

An hour of diligent searching revealed very little. There was lot of old Rawlins memorabilia from generations past, but nothing that related to Michael or the Charltons. Eventually, when she was up to one of the last boxes, she came across what looked like the personal belongings of a younger girl.

Amanda picked up a small pink journal, with a little lock on the cover. It was similar to something she had been given when she was young. As she looked through the other things in the box, she heard the unmistakable crunch of tires on gravel. After quickly dousing the light, she shoved it and the journal into her backpack and descended, not bothering to close the creaky pull-down. When she made it to the ground floor, she heard footsteps on the verandah and ducked into the lounge, staying as still as possible behind the lounge-room door.

Whoever it was discovered the broken windowpane. The footfalls initially crunched some glass before becoming much softer and closer. The person crept into the downstairs hall and was standing there, listening, only a few feet from the lounge. Amanda’s heart was thumping. It was beating so loudly that she thought anyone nearby would hear it. Her panic rose. She ruthlessly stifled it, knowing she had to keep a cool head. At best, it was the local police or a neighbor and she would be in trouble. At worst, it was the man who had tried to kill Phoebe.

Frozen, she waited for what felt like forever. Finally, she detected soft footfalls slowly creeping up the stairs. Taking her chance, she slipped soundlessly out of the lounge, just in time to see a heavyset man in a balaclava at the top of the stairs, his back to her. Crushing her panic induced urge to bolt, she quietly and slowly crept back out through the kitchen and off the verandah without stepping on any glass. Once outside and past the gravel, she ran for all she was worth.