Last Known Contact

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  He arrived poolside a minute early. A table and two chairs were set near the waterfall end, which was lit from below. Very pretty. Dusk approached. He lit the candle in the centre of the table.

  “Is this all for me?”

  Dennis looked up. Meredith swayed toward him in a body-hugging red dress and heels. Her hair was sleekly pulled back, which accentuated her eyes. Damn, she’d better have some answers. He held out a hand and she put hers in his palm.

  “You,” he kissed one cheek, “look incredible,” he kissed the other, “and smell like…”

  “Like?”

  “Something edible.” Now he kissed her lips, just a touch. “Do you care to join me for dinner?”

  “If you insist…although I’m happy to jump straight to dessert, if you get my meaning.”

  Brenda appeared with a tray. She placed a plate of bruschetta beside the candle, and two champagne glasses near an ice bucket.

  “Thanks, Brenda, I’ll open that.” Dennis led Meredith to her chair, which he pulled out for her. Brenda hurried away. Probably thought he was a murderer.

  The champagne opened with a pop, spilling a little onto the ground. Meredith giggled. “Oops. Whatever are we celebrating, darling? Your release from custody for the second time?”

  “Funny. Not.” He poured two glasses, handed one to Meredith, and raised his. “To discovering what love is worth.”

  Their glasses clinked. “What love is worth?”

  “We’ll get to that later. For now, enjoy the bubbles.” Dennis sipped his. “You know, I never thought I was a champagne man until you came along. Ellie hates the stuff.”

  “Ellie might have fabulous taste in men, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  Men? Who else?

  It wasn’t important. He offered Meredith bruschetta and took some for himself. He’d missed lunch thanks to the police and only had a nibble at the food on offer in the boardroom earlier.

  The waterfall splashed in the background and evening birdsong filled the air. Native birds loved the gardens here. He’d watched them over breakfast a few times, darting from branch to branch with their colourful wings. Lorikeets. Although it was magpies talking now.

  “Dennis? You are miles away.”

  “Been a long, painful day, Merry.”

  “What did come of it all? That annoying detective phoned to say he wants to interview the staff tomorrow. Does he have the right?”

  “Probably. I might put my lawyer on standby. Make sure they have a team at the ready should any of this escalate.”

  Meredith’s jaw dropped open. “How?”

  With a shrug, Dennis refilled their glasses. “How is my gun missing? I changed the combination and it was locked inside the safe. I keep saying I’m being set up but nobody listens. It’s as though someone has a hidden camera.” He shoved the champagne bottle back into the ice, shards spilling out. “Maybe someone does.”

  “Hold on, are you saying there are cameras in the house…like in the bedrooms?”

  The return of Brenda, with a trolley, interrupted. She wasted no time setting down luscious plates of spaghetti marinara and a side salad. “Sir, ma’am? There are two desserts beneath the cloches. And a selection of white and red wines. Will that be all tonight?”

  “In a hurry?” Meredith gazed away, bored.

  Dennis ignored Meredith and smiled. “Thank you, Brenda. Please have a nice night out and enjoy the small bonus in the envelopes I left for you all. You’ve more than earned it lately.”

  Once Brenda was out of sight, Dennis took Meredith’s hand. “You need to be more gracious. These people adore Jack and will do anything for you because he’d want them to.”

  “Yes. Okay, sorry. I just feel sometimes like they watch my every move and judge me.”

  “And you are worth watching.” He squeezed her hand and released it. “I love seafood. Now, red or white wine?”

  There was no point going home to change out of the clothes smelling of cigarettes, then coming back to work in the office, particularly alone on a dark floor. Ellie didn’t want to be in the building anymore tonight.

  I’m tired. Done.

  Campbell was at his desk, head buried in paperwork. Or rather, in his computer. He looked up long enough to smile through the glass walls as she hurried past. On her way back, box of files in her arms, she stopped at his door.

  “What can’t wait?” she grinned.

  “Hm? Oh, I am so far behind. With Jack gone…more work.”

  “I’m sorry. Can’t someone help you?”

  “I’ve palmed a lot off to the team downstairs but some things need my approval.”

  “Question.” Ellie shifted the box to be more comfortable. “Do you approve all the purchase orders?”

  “Mostly. Why?”

  “Paul mentioned he has to replace a lot of the equipment because Dad didn’t want to spend money last year.”

  “Jack looks after security. He’s always insisted on it.”

  “Well, someone will have to until we find him. Go home soon?”

  He might have nodded yes, but Ellie imagined Campbell would be there for hours. Everyone was at capacity, except Dennis, who barely made an appearance. She pushed the thought away as she drove to her apartment.

  As she waited to turn into the underground carpark, gym man wandered out of the building, stopping to answer a phone call. His gym bag was over a shoulder and he wore shorts and top, as if going to work out. Like usual.

  The traffic cleared and Ellie nosed the car over the pavement. Gym man turned, their eyes meeting through the window. No smile or acknowledgement from him, only a stare until her car went underground. She parked, annoyed to see a tremor in her hands. Something about the man was unsettling.

  Ellie collected the box and her handbag and locked the car. The carpark was well lit, but shadows were inevitable and concrete pillars were thick enough to conceal a person. She glanced over her shoulder more than once as she hurried to the lift.

  Dinner was done, the plates piled up on the trolley. The champagne bottle was empty and Dennis poured the last dregs of the red wine into Meredith’s glass. She watched him through half-closed eyes, relaxed in a way she’d never been with Jack, or any other of the men she’d been involved with. Dennis was hardly a traditionally attractive man with his balding head, plain face and glasses—no, it was the way he carried himself, his confidence which melted her. And had since they’d met. She understood why he’d married Ellie, but what a waste.

  “Why do you think Jack vanished without so much as a see-you-later.” she asked.

  “Do you really believe he did? Vanish?”

  “I don’t see his body washing up on the rocks like that trespasser’s did.” She swirled the wine around in the glass. “I have a theory.”

  Dennis raised both eyebrows and she giggled. Soon, she’d get him to take her back to the guest house for a nightcap. And more.

  “My theory is that Jack is playing a game with us.”

  “What kind of game?”

  “You said earlier you think someone is watching you. Your gun was stolen but nobody broke in. What if Jack set this whole thing up to see what we’d do?”

  Oh, she loved her ideas. Jack must be having a fit somewhere about now if he was keeping an eye on her.

  “Interesting theory. But why?”

  “I wonder where all the cameras are?” Meredith turned her head to gaze around the garden. “Probably just part of his usual control freak thing.”

  “Did he control you?” Dennis leaned forward. “Has he ever hurt you?”

  “Oh, sweetie, not at all in the way you’re thinking. But he believes he owns his daughter, and she doesn’t do herself any favours by doing whatever he asks.”

  “Nice of you to care.”

  “I don’t. Not much anyway. So, where is he hiding? And why.”

  Dennis averted his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

  Oh, you know more than you’re telling me, Dennis. I’ll play along
. For now.

  “Shall we open the white? Kind of back to front.” He reached for the bottle.

  “Sure. I’m not precious.”

  For a few moments he fussed with fresh glasses and pouring, then pushed her glass across. “Another toast?”

  Meredith raised her glass, waiting.

  “To honesty.”

  “Okay.” She clinked her glass against his. “Want to elaborate?”

  “You know I have a thing for you?”

  Meredith lost interest in the wine. Dennis was about to ruin everything. It didn’t stop her swallowing a large mouthful of the stuff.

  He pushed his chair back and crossed an ankle over his knee, playing with the stem of his glass.

  “I heard a rumour about you. About you and Jack.”

  “A rumour?”

  “Is there anything you want to tell me, Merry? About any arrangements with Jack?”

  Tears welled in Meredith’s eyes before she could stop them. “You mean the stupid pre-nuptial agreement he forced me to sign? Is this what it is about? Wine and dine me and make me feel like a princess only to tell me you don’t want me anymore.” She stood, unsteady from too much alcohol.

  Dennis didn’t move. “I do want you. But I want you and whatever Jack owes you for wasting all these years with him. Sit. Please.”

  With a sniff, Meredith dropped back on her chair. Dennis offered her a handkerchief and topped up her glass.

  “You should have told me. Regardless, we’ll get someone to look at it.”

  “He says it is to protect me as well as him. And his kids.”

  “Do you remember the details? Is there a suicide clause?”

  Meredith’s mouth dropped open.

  “Got to cover all possibilities, Merry.”

  The candle reflected in his glasses. Meredith couldn’t see past the flickering light to his eyes. An unpleasant shiver ran up her spine.

  41

  One Down

  Campbell took a break to eat a microwaved meal and check the news on his laptop. So much speculation, particularly about Dennis now word was out about his trip to the station. Some tried to connect Jack’s disappearance to the dreadful death of poor Frank Barlow.

  He scrolled down the stories, stopping, mouth open, at an article titled ‘What Jack Bannerman wants to forget.’

  A photograph of Michael from his TV show was under the headline. Unable to stop reading, Campbell scanned the article.

  Jack Bannerman may be missing, but his son is the one who really lost out at life. Michael Bannerman was the golden boy everyone expected to be at his father’s side. Preferring to surf and act, this rich boy took everything to the extreme, including his use of illicit drugs.

  Campbell shook his head. There were a series of images of Michael, a childhood photograph, on a surfboard, in a tuxedo at an awards night, and then one in handcuffs.

  Michael was undoubtedly the spoilt brat of a rich man. His arrest by his so-called best friend, then-Constable Ben Rossi, made headlines at the time. Money must talk, with the soft sentence Michael received. Things were looking up for him. But the golden boy went straight back to his old habits, this time with an almost-lethal overdose. Thank goodness for Daddy’s money or the now-brain injured Michael would be locked up in some asylum. Perhaps Jack disappeared due to shame.

  “Bastards. Never get anything right.”

  He pushed his empty tray aside and peered into the darkness around his office. Jack was not environmentally friendly but loved telling the world the building switched to reduced power and lighting at night. Made for a good story for him and saved thousands a year. Jack loved to save money almost as much as he loved making it.

  Which made Ellie’s earlier comments even more curious. Jack was frugal, but not stupid. He’d never refuse to pay for the necessities. He treated every one of his staff as an asset and kept an open-door policy. Paul’s contention that Jack wouldn’t spend money on security was ridiculous. He had to have misunderstood.

  He’d had a call from downstairs earlier, about his unlocked door. They’d found no footage of anything unusual, but admitted they’d had some issues with the cameras. So, what was going on?

  His hand hovered above the phone. It was too late to get Paul now, but he could at least leave a voicemail.

  “Paul, once you get this, please arrange a time for a chat. We need to discuss the last equipment upgrade. Goodnight.”

  For the next hour, he went back through the best part of fifteen years of records, years of regular upgrades and improvements as the business grew. The more he checked, the more he knew there’d been a mistake between acquisitions and accounts. It wasn’t the first time there’d been anomalies, but never around Paul’s department.

  Yet another thing to fix.

  As he shut down his laptop, a faint ‘click’ from the reception area took his attention. The laptop went into his briefcase and he reached for the lamp to turn it off. Again, a sound but louder.

  “Anyone here? Security?”

  Briefcase in hand, Campbell locked his office door and dropped some work onto the reception desk.

  The door to the stairs was slightly ajar. There was a stapler acting as a door jam. He pushed the door open and peered over the rail.

  “Who’s playing games? Show yourself!”

  A shard of fear lodged in his heart. Weakness swept into his legs and he scolded himself.

  Someone dropped the stapler. Nobody is here.

  He returned to the hub and let the door close behind. Time to go home and have a drink.

  At the elevator, he reached for the button.

  Pain shot through his head.

  42

  Who Watches The Watcher?

  Sea Angel rocked about with the incoming high tide, her sides dipping on the swell. Ben stretched his legs out, enjoying the sensation. For a western suburbs’ boy, he did like being on the water. Not that his income was ever likely to result in him buying a boat unless it was a dinghy. For the past few hours he’d imagined owning such a beauty as this one.

  But she belonged to Ellie, and Ellie came from a whole different demographic. As humble as she was about her family’s wealth, it was still a fact. And the mega rich didn’t play well with the average man.

  His phone vibrated and he shook his head to clear the thoughts.

  “Anything, Andy?” He’d left Andy in the car at the top of the road past the apartment block.

  “I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”

  “Don’t you have an endless supply of those bars you call food?”

  “Clearly not endless.”

  Ben glanced at his watch. “Alright. You head home and I’ll stay for a bit longer.”

  “Wait up. Taxi just stopped.”

  All evening people had come and gone from the building, but still the empty apartment remained in darkness.

  “And?”

  “One eighty centimetres give or take. Caucasian male, blondish hair. Short top, shorts, bag over his shoulder. Looks chilled.”

  “Don’t say chilled in your report.”

  Andy laughed. “Looks calm. Better?”

  “Slightly.”

  “He has a key. Inside now. Taxi is gone.”

  “See you in the morning, Andy.”

  “It is morning. Two in the morning.”

  For another half hour Ben fought a heavy tiredness. He drifted off for a few moments, jumping as a night bird flew past. The air had cooled, and he took a final swig from his water bottle. He trained binoculars on the dark apartment again.

  The sliding door was open.

  A car approached, and Ben turned the binoculars to the carpark as a black Alfa Romeo weaved into it, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle.

  Dennis Connor. What the hell?

  Ben stood, planting his feet wide to steady himself and looked up at the apartment. Someone was up there on the balcony, staring in the direction of the carpark. A man in dark clothing from head to foot. He couldn’t see his face and then
, the man was gone.

  After stepping onto the pier, Ben texted Andy. Need you back here. Ahead, a car door slammed. Hand on his holster, Ben worked his way to the bushes, then skirted the carpark until he had better visibility.

  Dennis was at the bonnet of his car, swaying on his feet. He took his phone out and promptly dropped it. With a loud curse, he leaned down to retrieve it and lost balance, dropping onto his knees. Comical if he hadn’t just driven the streets of Melbourne in that condition.

  Somehow upright again, Dennis lurched in the direction of a council rubbish bin. He leaned against it as he checked something on his phone, then reached inside.

  Ben videoed on his phone as Dennis extracted a paper bag. Drugs? Money? He almost held his breath as Dennis opened it and peered in. His expression was one of pure confusion. He turned the bag upside down and white material fell out. A shirt.

  Dennis stared at it on the ground. Ben lowered the phone, mind racing. The material he’d retrieved from the rocks where Fred Barlow was caught. It was shirt material. Quality. Dennis reached for it and Ben propelled himself into the carpark.

  “Leave it, Dennis!”

  “Whaa?”

  “I’m identifying myself as Detective Ben Rossi. Do you understand me?”

  With a frown, Dennis leaned forward for the material.

  “I said to leave it. Stand up straight and put your hands behind your head!” Ben bellowed the command as he ran.

  Dennis staggered back a step or two and lifted one hand. Behind him, Andy’s car pulled up across the entry to the carpark and he jumped out.

  “Someone’s in that apartment, Andy. Get up there but be careful.”

  Andy was back in the car in seconds, turning it in a tight circle before flooring it up the road.

  Ben reached Dennis. He wrinkled his nose at the reek of alcohol emanating from the man. “Dennis, do you understand who I am?”

  “Ben Rossi. Mr Policeman who likes my wife.” Dennis smirked. “Watcha doing here?”