Times of Trouble

by Victoria Rollison

  ‘I'll never tell anyone. Promise, cross my heart.’

  The tension left Andy’s face as he got up from the chair, and went into the kitchen. I didn’t know what else to say to make him feel any better. He was obviously worried, not just about using the software, but also about what he had seen in the text messages. And so was I. Bill had to have something to do with the murder in London. And now someone he was in constant contact with was on the south coast of NSW. I felt better knowing Sophie was a fair way from there. But it still left me with too many unanswered questions.

  I used my newly anonymous mobile and called the number that had been used near Wollongong. If Bill had phoned it straight after he got the text from Danny, it made sense it had to be someone close to the situation. There was no ringing sound and the message said the phone was currently switched off or unavailable. I called one more time just to make sure and got the same result.

  There was another phone call to be made; it was time to tell Liam about progress. I felt stuck in the house without him and his friend’s car for transport. Maybe tomorrow I’d spend the day with him at the hospital. I really doubted Sophie would turn up there again, but we didn’t really have any other direction to take.

  When he answered his phone he sounded bored and irritable; it was clear his ‘stake out’ wasn’t bearing any fruit.

  ‘What have you been doing today?’ His tone was still accusatory.

  ‘I’ve found out so many things. The visit to the police was totally worthwhile. I know why someone would want to hurt Sophie, and I think I’ve even got close to working out who they are.’

  ‘So the police didn’t think they could help you to actually find Sophie?’ he asked, seeming uninterested in my news.

  ‘Well... no... they are looking for her too, but for another reason... they have less idea than we do...’

  ‘So what was the point in going to them?’

  ‘To see if they could be any help. Obviously I didn’t expect they would already be looking for her because of other reasons...’

  ‘What other reasons?’ His mounting anger made me regret phoning him.

  ‘Sophie and the others were blackmailing clients. One of them has made a complaint, and so the police in London tracked Sophie to Sydney. Now they are looking for her so she can be charged with fraud.’

  ‘So Sophie could go to jail?’

  He was starting to get upset. As usual his concern was for Sophie alone, and he completely ignored what this information meant for finding a motive for the murders of two people. I decided not to mention the notebook, the codes, Allen, or Andy’s software. Liam just wasn’t interested.

  ‘The police want to speak to her. I have no idea if she would go to jail. But right now I’m more worried about these other people finding her than the police.’

  ‘So you want to turn the search for her over to them? You want the police looking for her instead of us?’

  ‘No, I don’t want to turn it over to them. When the detective said they were looking for her, I got out of there as quickly as I could. But that won’t stop them looking.’

  He didn’t seem to be able to be professional about the search anymore. I was more sure than ever that he had feelings for Sophie.

  ‘Ok, so we’ve got to find her before these psychos and before the police. It makes it even more urgent, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. Are you planning on sticking with your plan at the hospital?’

  ‘Of course I am. I really think she’s going to turn up here. I’m sure of it in fact’.

  ‘Ok, if you are sure, I guess it only takes one of us to sit and wait...’

  Liam was about to snap.

  ‘Fine. But I think I’ll go back to Newtown tonight. And I’ll come back here in the morning.’

  He hung up. I stared at my phone, stunned. What was that all about! It had to be safer here than in Newtown?

  After spending the evening trying to research more about Bill Holland, I finally gave up and went to bed early, hoping to get a full night’s sleep, free from anxiety-induced insomnia. But as usual, my mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour, trying to decipher everything I had found that day. I'd tried Bill Holland's phone number numerous times, and it was still switched off or not available. Nothing on the internet gave me any more idea where he was, or how he might be involved with the murders of Danny and Katie. The text he sent to Danny with the threat was all the proof I needed that he had something to do with the trouble they had got themselves into. But I couldn't work out what to do with that information, as it didn't get me any closer to finding him. Or Sophie.

  Chapter 25

  Peter Wolcott was at the end of another long day. The Harrison-Brown case, initially insignificant, had now expanded into an unsolved murder investigation, since one of the fraud suspects had turned up dead. There was little evidence in the case, and no suspects. The keen young pup from the Homicide and Serious Crime Command who was working on the murder eagerly welcomed his help, on the grounds that the links between the murder and the fraud case were too obvious to be ignored. He wasn’t aware Wolcott only offered after the Chief Inspector insisted. It was exactly what Wolcott did not feel like dealing with.

  To make matters worse, Frank Sporalli turned out to be a useless waste of space. Wolcott and Singh had interviewed him for over two hours, and though he admitted to a coerced involvement in the blackmail of Harrison-Brown, he couldn’t or wouldn’t reveal any other targets for the scam. A search of his flat had turned up quite a bit of cash, but nothing else of use. He claimed he didn’t have a clue who might have wanted his friend dead. He knew the women involved had fled to Sydney, but couldn't give any concrete information about exactly where they were. He was saying so little that it looked like he would prefer to be considered guilty, locked in a cell and kept there, out of harm’s way.

  And to load even more annoyance into the case, the Chief Inspector had called him into his office first thing that morning, to tell him Harrison-Brown was now concerned he was being stalked by an associate of his blackmailers. He claimed someone had emailed a threat to him through his website. Harrison-Brown was well enough connected to put plenty of pressure on the Chief Inspector, and this pressure was heaped, in additional proportions, onto Wolcott. This made him grumpier than ever.

  'Find out who this Liam Kingsley is who sent the email. It was sent in the middle of last night. This person could be anyone, but Harrison-Brown is convinced it has something to do with the blackmailers. The mention of the name Molly could make this assumption valid,’ the Chief Inspector had explained. Pompous git.

  Wolcott spent the next couple of hours finding out who Liam Kingsley was. He was relieved to discover that, though he had temporarily resided in London, he now lived in Adelaide, Australia. This firmly made him Australia’s problem. One quick phone call to a detective in Adelaide, and this small annoyance would soon be off his desk. Only trouble was, Australia was still asleep for another few hours, which meant Wolcott would either have to take the file home with him and do some after hours work, or get in early enough that the Australians would still be at work. Not being a morning person, he hated the idea of rising before the sun, so he opted to make the phone call at 10:00 pm, moments before he went to bed.

  The detective he reached in Adelaide sounded unreasonably bright and cheerful when he answered the phone, especially considering the early hour there. It reminded Wolcott of his resentment of the weather in Australia, which seemed to make all the people living there happier than was necessary in most situations.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Conroy speaking, how can I help you?’

  The three beeps on the other end of the phone gave away the international caller’s distant location.

  ‘This is Detective Inspector Wolcott from the Serious and Organised Crime Command in London. I’m calling about a fraud case we’re investigating. We believe someone on your patch might be a co-conspirator.’

  Wolcott expected the detective to sou
nd unenthused by this information, which is the way he would have responded had a similar statement been made to him by someone calling from overseas. But Detective Conroy not only remained bright and cheerful, he also gave away a slight sense of excitement at the news he had been given.

  ‘What is the suspect’s name?’ he asked, and Wolcott could imagine him eagerly grabbing a pen and starting to write notes, so not to waste any time.

  ‘Liam Kingsley. He sent an email threatening the victim of a blackmail scam. I can hook you up with our computer people here so they can get the message sent to you. You can no doubt do an ISP search etcetera to make sure it is this fella’s real name.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’d definitely do that.’

  ‘I’ll fax you the case notes we have so far, and obviously I would need to be kept updated on any interviews you do with Kingsley. We are not sure whether he is an outlier, or if he is directly involved, so the more information you can get out of him, the better.’

  ‘Of course, give me your details, and I’ll get onto it right away.’

  Wolcott recited his details, reminding the detective of the time difference between London and Adelaide, and hoping he took this as a hint not to call him on his mobile in the middle of the night. Wolcott lived by the assumption that everyone is dumber than you expect them to be, and he didn’t make any exceptions for Detective Sergeant Conroy.

  As is often the case, his assumption was correct and he did receive a call back from the detective less than an hour later, when he was sound asleep. Sounding annoyed, he took the call sitting up in bed.

  ‘Sorry to call you so late, but I wanted to get back to you about what we’ve found.’

  ‘I'm sure I'll eventually nod off again. Have you interviewed Kingsley?’

  ‘No, that’s just the thing. We were able to track him down from his email address and ISP. But when we contacted him, he told us he was in Sydney, working. He wouldn’t give us any specific details of what he was doing, but it would appear he is a private investigator, from the information he did give us. We had some other records on him though.’

  ‘Records?’ Wolcott was just enough awake to put together a coherent thought pattern.

  ‘He was involved in a criminal case here, a year or so back. He used to be a lawyer. He worked in a criminal law outfit, and made the big mistake of becoming romantically involved with a female client. She ended up doing time for knocking off her ex-husband, but Kingsley wasn’t through with the relationship at that point. The silly fool smuggled contraband items into the nick for her: a mobile phone, some prescription drugs, and other bits and pieces. Nothing too serious, but it went on for long enough that he got caught. ‘Course he got fired from his job. The case against him ended up with a slap on the wrist. But he got disbarred. We didn’t know until now that he’s trying his hand as a private investigator. But he seems to have scraped a licence somehow. He’s not a great friend of the police, after what went on with this woman.’

  ‘So how did he respond when you gave him a call?’

  ‘He didn’t exactly volunteer for an interview. He said he had no idea about any email, and no idea who Harrison-Brown was. He said he was working when I spoke to him, but he refused to tell us anything about what he was doing. Very arrogant he sounded. So I got on to City Central in Sydney, and they said they’d look into it and call you back.’

  Wolcott couldn’t help but smile at Detective Conroy’s eager persona. But there was no way he was going to take another pre-dawn phone call.

  ‘Can you get them to call me when I’ll be back in the office tomorrow? I’ll be in a better mood for an update then.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. My apologies, I should have checked the time before I rang.’

  Wolcott eventually went back to sleep, though it was a restless slumber, interrupted by niggling thoughts about the case. Why did it always seem that a straightforward case, when handed to him, became a cacophony of different tangents and criminals? It was as if the Chief Inspector had some psychic ability to see which cases would take this path, and handed them to Wolcott, knowing how desperately sick of his job he was. It originally seemed like it would be an easy one to close, the perpetrator Sporalli caught, his partner in crime dead, and the politician kept well out of the media as requested. But with murder comes more attention and Wolcott couldn’t guarantee the politician his name wouldn’t get leaked to the press as part of the investigation.

  At 1:00 am, he woke up again when his phone rang again. He cursed that he hadn't turned it off after speaking to Conroy.

  'Who is this?'

  ‘This is Detective Inspector Williamson.’

  Another Australian accent. Didn't these Aussies ever check the time before calling? This one wasn't as cheerful as the last. He sounded older than Conroy, more Wolcott’s vintage, and his weathered voice had the same unenthused ring to it that he chose to use himself. Wolcott respected him immediately, despite the late hour, and got straight to the point. He didn’t want to be conversing in his pyjamas for a minute longer than necessary.

  'So what have you got to tell me about our friend Liam Kingsley?’

  ‘Looks like he’s just one piece of the jigsaw. It’s quite a long story.’ Wolcott sighed audibly, but Williamson took no notice. ‘It’s no coincidence that this got put in my in tray,’ he went on. ‘We got the fax from you guys about the possibility that a prostitute called Molly Lane you were looking for in London, for involvement in a blackmail scam, had travelled to Sydney. I noticed it, but didn’t think much on it. Finding someone like that in Sydney is, just like London, finding a needle in a haystack. But then this girl drops into the station unannounced yesterday, and tells me she is worried about her sister, Sophie Goddard, aka Molly Lane, who she thinks is running from some people who may have killed two of her friends. One in London, one here in Sydney that we are treating as a suspicious death.

  Wolcott interrupted. ‘I know about the one here. Danny Wright. We never found the girlfriend, Molly Lane, or the other woman involved, Katie Easton. Next thing we hear, they're in Sydney. So where does Kingsley come in?’

  ‘I’m getting to that. The sister told me she is working with a private investigator to locate Sophie – your Molly, that is. They are all from Adelaide. The private investigator is Liam Kingsley.'

  ‘That’s interesting to say the least.’ Wolcott perked up a bit. Maybe someone else was going to do his work for him. ‘What else did you find out from the sister?’

  ‘That’s the thing, I told her about her sister’s involvement in blackmailing the MP, and she clammed up. I guess if Sophie could end up nicked, the sister didn’t want us to be involved anymore.’

  ‘And she ran off and told Kingsley, who emailed Harrison-Brown to warn him off,’ Wolcott concluded.

  ‘It looks more like she sent the email off her own bat. I had one of our units pick Kingsley up. He was staking out the Royal North Shore Hospital, convinced this Sophie would be visiting there with a child.’

  Wolcott tried to smother a yawn. 'What happened?’

  ‘He denied knowledge of the email. But he tried to do a runner when the uniforms turned up to ask him a few questions. So they brought him in. He was acting very strangely in our interview. He wasn’t at all interested in giving information away that might help us to find Sophie. Same as the sister, Ellen. His line is that he is employed to find Sophie, and has no interest in any other related investigations. We questioned him for about an hour and didn’t get anywhere. He had no reason for absconding from the police, other than a claim that he had to stick around to find Sophie. He seemed to be taking the case extremely seriously. Almost personally.'

  ‘That’s odd. I can understand the sister being protective, but what would Kingsley have to gain from keeping the police out of the investigation? Surely he doesn’t care if she is found and arrested, as long as he gets paid for the work he is doing?’

  ‘Did Conroy in Adelaide tell you about his past?’

  ‘With the criminal girlfrie
nd?’

  ‘Yeah, we think it is possible he has become emotionally involved again. With either Ellen or Sophie, or both.

  ‘Do you believe him about the email?’

  ‘Yeah. The sister could have been using his computer and his email account. He claims to have left his laptop in her possession throughout the entire day. The thing is, as I’m sure you know, she’s right that the blackmail and the deaths have to be connected somehow. It obviously isn’t the MP, but it could be someone else they tried to put the squeeze on. Unfortunately she hasn’t got any information that could help us work out who. She was probably just testing the water with this Harrison-Brown. Either way, I don’t think the sister, or the private investigator, is involved with your fraud case. You can tell your Harrison-Brown he can forget about the email. We let Kingsley go. There was nothing to hold him on.’

  ‘So where does this leave us with the murders? Is there any chance of you picking up Sophie?’ asked Wolcott, still hoping there was something more in it for him.

  ‘We are obviously interested in talking to her because of her involvement in your blackmail case, and we’d also like to find out what she knows about the murders – yours and ours. At this stage though, we have no idea where she is. I’ll keep you updated on that situation.’

  ‘Good man. I’ll let you know if anything else crops up here that might be of use.’

  Wolcott hung up, satisfied to have spoken to someone who was obviously a highly skilled detective. If he was going to have to coordinate with foreign detectives, he would rather it be someone like Williamson, who was very thorough, than someone like himself, who was not. Even if he did ring in the middle of the night.

  Chapter 26

  She wasn’t used to having so little money. It wasn’t long ago that she had more than she knew what to do with. Danny didn’t believe there was such a thing as too much money. He even had enough spare cash to buy ridiculously expensive drugs, for his increasingly erratic party life. She hated watching him snort her hard earned cash up his nose. And even with all this money, he wanted more. But look where that had got them. And now there was none coming in, she felt stressed even spending a dollar. She’d only just paid the first week's rent when she had to run from the apartment. The $2,000 she had found with Charlie was a huge help, but even added to what she had left, she knew it wouldn’t last her much longer. The passports had cost them most of the money she got from Allen, and she had spent $500 on a bomb of a car, feeling it safer to drive than use public transport. And now Katie was gone, and the men were in Sydney, she was no better off than before.