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Times of Trouble

Page 23

by Victoria Rollison


  ‘I think he might be missing. Do you think that is possible?’

  ‘Hadn’t really thought about it, love. Like I said, he might own this place but he doesn’t run it. That’s all sorted on his behalf. He might have buggered off with one of the girls he was seeing. There was a little Russian dolly that he had with him a fair bit recently.’

  ‘What was her name?’

  ‘Now you’re testing me... let me think... no, don’t think I ever knew. There’s been so many of them, love, I just can’t keep up! And they’re all so young! But I must admit, I never realised he had women friends that he wasn’t sleeping with. If that’s what you are, you’re a rarity.’

  I needed to sound as casual as possible, so I laughed at her last comment.

  ‘This girl that came in looking for him tonight, you thought her name was Lena?’

  ‘Yeah, she had a real strong accent, maybe something Eastern European…’

  Another Russian maybe?

  ‘Did this Lena girl leave any way to contact her?’

  It was a long shot, but Linda didn’t seem to think there was such a thing as too much information. If someone else was looking for Bill, she might have got further than I had.

  ‘She did actually. I wrote down her number, and promised to call if he showed up. It was the only way to get rid of her, you know. Got a pen, love? It’s 07458749878’.

  ‘Thanks Linda, you’re probably right, he probably has gone away and not told any of us. I just want to make sure.’

  ‘No problem love.’

  I was starting to get really good at extracting information from people I had never met. It was all about getting rapport, and persistence. I dialled the number and the phone went straight to message bank, explaining that the person I was trying to call was on the phone. So I left a message: ‘Hi, I got your number from the barmaid at the Cosmo. I’m looking for Bill Holland too. My name is...Rita...can you call me back on 0465780765? It’s an Australian mobile number. Thanks’.

  I needed more fake identities ready up my sleeve; it must have sounded suss every time I paused before blurting out my name. I wondered if she would find it strange to be calling me on an international number. But I didn’t have to wonder for long, as my phone rang within seconds of leaving the message.

  ‘Rita? This is Lena.’ She sounded stressed and tired. And Linda was right, her European accent was very thick.

  ‘Hi Lena, thanks for calling me back. I know it’s quite random that I called you, but I wanted to speak to you about Bill. The barmaid at the Cosmo said you’ve been looking for him, and I’m looking for him too.’

  ‘Are you friend of his?’ she asked, sounding almost accusing.

  ‘Not really. I’m actually looking for someone he knows’.

  ‘Someone missing? Who is missing?’

  ‘It’s my sister actually. I’m looking for my sister. And I think Bill knows her.’

  ‘Why you think that?’ Lena was starting to get on my nerves. I was the one who wanted answers, not just questions from her.

  ‘I just do. The barmaid said you were looking for your friend…’

  ‘Yeah, my friend Veronica work for him… and live with him… but he hasn’t been around for long time. I think since I couldn’t find her, she might be with him…’

  ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘She say she meet me on Saturday night. And she not turn up. Is not like her. She don’t know anyone in this city…’

  ‘Have you told the police?’ The question popped out without me meaning to say it. With all these missing people, it was odd that everyone seemed to be doing their own investigations.

  ‘I not involve police.’ That sounded familiar.

  ‘And what luck have you had finding Bill?’

  ‘None. I been searching for both of them, but I haven’t got nowhere. Who you looking for again?’

  ‘My sister. She was a friend of Bill’s too.’

  ‘What your sister’s name?’

  ‘It’s Molly.’

  I avoided giving her Sophie’s name, as I felt suddenly protective of the information I had. It was definitely interesting that there was another missing girl who was involved with Bill, but it didn’t solve anything. For all I knew, Bill and Veronica had been killed as part of the same situation that Sophie and her friends had found themselves in. Or they had gone into hiding for some reason. Or they were both responsible for killing Danny and Katie. I was pretty sure Sophie was trying to blackmail Bill, but that wasn’t proof he was trying to kill her. Especially since he disappeared around the same time she left London.

  ‘You tell police about your sister?’ she asked, daring me to explain more than I wanted to.

  ‘They know she is missing.’ That was true enough.

  ‘And you are where? Not in England I think.’

  ‘I’m in Sydney.’

  ‘You think Bill is there?’

  ‘No, I don’t. I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  I felt like we were going around in circles. Lena wasn’t giving anything away and her tone made me feel like I had to be careful.

  ‘I’ve got a phone number I think might be Veronica’s. Can you tell me if it is?’

  I started to read out the number Andy had pulled out of his software, the number Bill Holland called most often, and had phoned as soon as he got the blackmail text from Danny.

  But before I had finished reading, Lena interrupted abruptly, saying: ‘No, that’s not Veronica’s. She did not have mobile phone. Where you get it?’

  I avoided that question too. ‘Did Veronica live with Bill before she went missing?’

  ‘Yes. She live at his apartment, even since he’s not been there. I been there, she not taken any of her things.’ That wasn’t a good sign.

  Lena let out a frustrated sigh. ‘I sort of... break in...and it not look like he’s taken much either.’ Also not a good sign.

  ‘Do you know anything about what Bill was doing before he went missing? Did Veronica ever tell you anything about him?’

  ‘No, all she say was he own a bar. She tell me she work there, but she didn’t. I don’t know why she lie.’ She suddenly sounded distressed; her voice lost its cold edge.

  ‘You’re really worried about her, aren’t you? You don’t think she’s run after him do you?’

  ‘She wouldn’t leave without telling me.’

  I heard the emotion in Lena’s voice. It softened her slightly. Her tone wasn’t as accusing and aggressive as it had been. I wanted to comfort her. But I needed to know more about Bill.

  ‘So you don’t know anything else about Bill. Like who he hung out with, or if he did anything other than own the club?’

  ‘No. I been trying to find out. There was stuff at apartment that was strange, but I don’t know what it means.’

  ‘Strange in what way?’

  ‘Just paperwork and things that made it look like he work on a film.’

  That’s odd. ‘Like what?’

  ‘There was piece of paper that had – what you call it - filming schedule on it. It made no sense to me.’

  ‘Could be a hobby?’ I suggested.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Did you keep it?’

  ‘Yeah, I take it with me.’

  ‘Could you fax it to me?’

  I doubted she would agree, but it was worth asking the question. She sounded so alone, maybe she would appreciate having someone else on her side.

  ‘I guess I could. I don’t have fax machine, but there is one at convenience store, I could send it from there.’

  ‘Ok, give me two seconds and I’ll give you a fax number.’ I had seen a fax amongst the computers and phones in Andy’s study. Scrawled in black ink on the top of the machine was a phone number that must be the fax number for this machine.

  ‘Ok, +61287498345. Got it?’ Lena read it back to me. She sounded more positive, like she was getting somewhere even if only by finding someone else who was looki
ng for Bill.

  ‘I’ll let you know what I think of it. And I’ll keep you updated on my search.’

  ‘Me too. Thanks for calling, Rita. I hope you find your sister.’

  I felt bad all of a sudden, and decided to be honest with her.

  ‘My name isn’t Rita, it’s Ellen. I try not to give my real name out, but I can trust you.’

  ‘I understand. Bye Ellen’. She hung up.

  Was it a mistake to give her my real name? Oh well, just notch it up with the others.

  Chapter 28

  While I waited for Lena's fax to arrive, I thought about the email from Sophie. Mum had obediently forwarded it to me. Andy had left his computer on, so I logged on to see it for myself. It said just what mum had told me, and the email address was almost the same as the one she had used in London. I read through it a few times, and wondered how on earth she knew I was searching for the people who were after her? It just didn't make sense. I was about to give up, when something at the bottom of the email caught my eye. She had signed the message. Unlike the coded email this one said 'Soph' at the bottom. That was odd. Mum hadn't mentioned that when she read it out, but surely she would have noticed the same thing I did. Sophie never got called Soph. She hated the name Soph. If anyone ever called her that she would correct them straight away, saying 'my name is Sophie'. Was it possible this had changed in the last seven years? It didn't seem likely. Sophie was about as stubborn as it gets. And no Beatles reference either. I supposed she didn't always need to talk in code to us, but something just seemed out of place.

  As I sat staring at the email, with the word Soph stuck in my mind, I heard Andy's fax machine whirr into life. The beeping of the phone ringing made me jump up and run towards his study. I had wondered, since it was the middle of the night there, whether Lena would have to wait until the convenience store opened in the morning to send the fax. But London must be the city that never sleeps.

  The first page scrolled slowly into my hands. So desperate was I to see if there was anything useful on it that I felt like dragging it from the teeth of the machine. I even tried to read the text upside down as the machine gave me one line at a time. The first thing I noticed was who the fax was addressed to. It didn’t look business like; just a hand written scrawl ‘Bill, the schedule as we discussed’. There was a heading above the smaller text saying ‘Special Productions’. Underneath this, there was a table made of straight rows and columns, which seemed to be some sort of calendar or chart. This had typed text, neat and evenly spaced. The first column listed times, the second had dates, and the third had the names of hotels with their addresses, none of which were familiar to me. The last column had names in it. It looked like it was some sort of roster. As the page finally fell from the clutches of the machine, I read it more closely, the right way up.

  The first line showed that ‘Jim and Keith’ were due to be at the Millennium Hotel at 12:30 pm on 18th June 2008. So it was an old list. The other dates were every month or so for the last six months of 2008. The names hardly varied; there was either ‘Jim and Keith’ or ‘Lance and Ian’. I stared at the list, wondering if it was a work roster, and if so, what kind of work? Then I noticed something else scrawled on the side of the schedule, which might have been a clue to why Lena assumed it was a filming schedule. The writing had an arrow pointing to a row that listed ‘Jim and Keith’ at an address in October 2008, and said ‘camera and lights supplied by Santo, Hillman double booked’. Camera and lights. It looked like Lena was right. This was a schedule of filming for a movie. But why film only one day a month?

  As I stared at the page, images of the faceless Bill Holland hanging out with women at the bar of his nightclub flashed into my mind. Was it possible I had in my hands his schedule for filming porn films? Ever since Liam had revealed Sophie’s occupation to me, I felt like nothing could shock me about her world anymore. I was the sister of a prostitute who blackmailed her clients. My point of reference had completely changed. So why wouldn’t a nightclub owner who occasionally hired a prostitute not dabble in pornographic movie production? Were Jim, Keith, Lance and Ian porn actors? It all suddenly made sense.

  And then something else struck me. Did this give Bill a real motive for trying to keep his liaisons with Sophie and Katie a secret? Maybe the blackmail had something to do with porn films? Now I was more confused than ever. Maybe the pairs of men were cameramen? That was also possible. Maybe Sophie and Katie weren’t just acquainted with Bill as escorts, maybe they were porn actresses. My stomach flipped in protest. But I had to consider that I could be right. Was this another way they made extra cash, on top of the prostitution and the blackmail? Sophie had always wanted to be an actress. Had she finally become one, whatever path it took?

  I took the fax page into the living room, and opened Liam’s laptop. As long as I had clues, I was going forward, and this made me feel better than sitting around sulking. Who knew what Liam was doing now? Probably still trying to control his anger at missing Sophie this morning. It was hard to see what, if any, information was useful to me. I did a search for the name of the first hotel: Millennium Hotel, 17-25 Sloane Street, Knightsbridge. Not surprisingly it was in London, but apart from that, there was nothing else about its website that gave me any ideas. The second hotel was also in London: the Grosvenor Kensington, 2-10 Harrington Road, Kensington. Also nothing of interest on its site. And the same for the other four in the list. The only other information I had was the names ‘Santo’ and ‘Hillman’ who appeared to be camera and lights suppliers. So I tried ‘Hillman Camera and Lights London’. The only result that came up was a single listing with a phone number on a UK directory called ‘www.rentequipment.co.uk’. The listing named the business as ‘Hillman Audio Visuals’, and then had a phone number. Since Hillman was obviously supplying to Bill Holland for whatever he was filming, maybe I'd learn something from speaking to them? I glanced at the clock on the laptop screen, showing the time in the UK. It was the middle of the night. There was no point ringing now. I sat back in my chair, phone in hand, ready to act but with no direction to act in.

  I stared at the fax, willing it to throw some inspiration at me. The list of hotels was just a blur of words and numbers. Useless addresses that meant nothing to me. I thought back to the last list of hotels I had looked at, the equally useless Formlue 1 hotels Liam and I had visited two days ago. As if answering my prayer, the fax suddenly gave me an idea. Bill Holland was obviously working on some type of film. He was hiring film equipment, and had hotel rooms booked for particular days, as well as some sort of staff, whether it be actors or other film crew. He was calling someone constantly who wasn’t his girlfriend. Could it be a work colleague or partner or boss? The phone number he had called didn’t seem to be active anymore; I had called it every hour since Andy read it out to me, but it always said it was unavailable. I knew it had been used in Australia, near Wollongong, very recently. Was it possible Bill’s contact was now working in Australia? Doing the same thing as they did in the UK, making some sort of movie in hotel rooms? It might be difficult to find out if this was the case, but what else did I have planned today? Nothing.

  As a plan started to settle in my mind, I saw a way to narrow down my search, and check if my suspicions were correct, by matching up two apparently random things: a random camera and lights supplier with a random hotel booking. There would be fewer companies hiring equipment than there would be hotels, so that was the first thing to find. Google was too much of a hit and miss listing, so I did a yellow pages search for ‘audio visual equipment hire’ in Sydney. I wasn’t sure how many businesses to expect, and wasn’t too disappointed to see there were only 83. Anything less than 100, and I had a chance to speak to all of them this afternoon if need be. I soon saw there were lots of businesses I wouldn’t need to call as they hired TVs, DVD players and other equipment that didn’t include cameras and lights. Some businesses also had multiple listings, so the actual number of potentials was even fewer. Maybe only 40.
/>   No time like the present. I called the first business. And as the phone rang, I decided I would have to do something quite illegal: impersonate a policewoman. But it was the quickest and easiest way to get to the point.

  ‘All Star Lights Film Equipment, Mick speaking.’

  ‘Hello, this is Detective Constable Little from the major fraud squad...’ the title rolled off my tongue like an old pro... ‘I’m calling about a client you may have had that we are investigating.’

  ‘Yes...’ Mick sounded worried. Like anyone who suddenly finds themselves talking to the police, his voice had an edge of guilt, as if he had done something wrong by just taking the call.

  ‘We would like to know if you have delivered film equipment to any hotels in the Sydney area in the last three months?’

  Mick didn’t hesitate, responding confidently: ‘No. I’d remember that. For the last three months, all our clients have been on film sets. No hotels amongst them.’

  ‘Ok, if you are sure, that’s all the questions I have. Thank you for your time.’ I tried to sound as authoritative as possible.

  I quickly moved on to the next business on the list. I had a lot of calls to make, and so there wasn’t time to pause too long in between. The next business manager I spoke to was less sure of his answer to my question, but after checking with some colleagues in his office, assured me they hadn’t delivered to a hotel. After ten more calls, some short and some painfully drawn out, my energy was starting to wane. But then I spoke to Chris from Ling Cho Hire. He was totally blasé when I said I was a detective, as if he got phone calls like that every day. Then I asked him about a delivery to a hotel.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ve done a couple. The Four Seasons in December and the Intercontinental last month.’

  I was so surprised at his answer that I almost didn’t know what to ask next. ‘Can you please give me the dates for those bookings?’

  Again Chris was calm as I heard him shuffle pages in a diary, and quietly read out the bookings. He was concise, but edifying. A dream informant.

 

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