by MJ Doherty
Phoebe relaxed, thinking that she had at least been able to do something to support Michael. Therapy will really help him.
*****
Phillips sat, going through old data at the records section in Police Headquarters. His large frame was squeezed into a small work cube. Grumbling to himself, he flicked through report after report, looking for the material on the Rawlins’ deaths. He knew it was all in there somewhere, the Coronial Investigation report and the police reports. He cursed the task force whose job it was to load old records into the current police database. Clearly they hadn’t made it back far enough. He was not proficient in using the old system and didn’t enjoy this sort of task anyway.
After another fifteen minutes Phillips decided to take another tack. He looked casually around the room. Not too far away from his alcove he saw a middle aged woman at her cube, working steadily. She was a civilian and not a sworn officer, judging by her clothing and demeanor. He got up and went over to her and introduced himself, smiling winningly.
“I was just wondering if you knew anything about the old database?” Phillips asked her, putting as much boyish charm into his approach as possible.
She smiled back, “I’ve been here for about fifteen years, so yes I know it well. Do you need some help?”
“That would be great,” he responded with a warm smile, his relief genuine.
She followed him over to his alcove where he explained what he was trying to find. She laughed lightly when she saw his screen.
“You’ve been looking in the wrong places,” she said. “The old Biggenden files were bundled with the Maryborough stuff,” she said tapping a few keys and bringing up another screen altogether. When she saw his look of confusion she laughed and shoed him away, taking over, “I’ll do it,” she said with a smile. “Come back in about twenty minutes and it should be all done,” she offered.
He happily took up her offer and went down to the first floor cafeteria to buy some mediocre coffee and wait for the woman to finish his work.
*****
Phoebe chose to walk over the Goodwill Bridge to get to her appointment. The Southbank apartment she was going to see was not far from where the bridge came out on the other side, south of the Brisbane River. The walk was pleasant, even though she could not walk too briskly for fear of getting pain in her chest.
As she approached the Queensland University of Technology at Gardens Point, she found herself wondering if Charlie had gone to QUT, or to the University of Queensland, like her. She tensed, as she was suddenly overcome with sadness and longing. Still reeling from what had happened the night before, she tried not to cry. She remembered what Doctor Briggs has said, and slowed her breathing and attempted to focus on the present moment.
The trees, the birds and the view of the river came into her consciousness. She started to relax, but couldn’t completely shake her sadness. She thought to herself, I can live with it if I keep moving, if I just don’t let myself wallow in it. After all, I know she wants to be with me. It’s just not possible right now.
The rental agent showed her through the apartment, placing great emphasis on the view and the location. The apartment itself was inviting and decently appointed although not spacious. The security was good. Deciding it would be too difficult to find anything closer and better, Phoebe made up her mind to apply for it.
“When can I move in?” She asked the agent.
The agent replied cheerfully, “It’s vacant, so you can have it as soon as your paperwork is processed. If everything works out you can move in this coming weekend.”
“Good,” Phoebe replied, pleased to be getting her life back on track.
*****
Sally sat at her desk typing her report, sipping strong coffee to keep her mind alert and focused. The day was nearly over and she was almost finished. She had summarized everything and was typing up her conclusions.
The problem was she no longer held the same views as when she started. Writing the report had solidified her suspicion it wasn’t Michael behind any of the crimes. As much as she resented the Inspector for his heavy-handed approach, he had been right to make her do the report.
The information Phillips came back with earlier that day had added an interesting twist. Harry and Ranelle Rawlins had most likely died by misadventure. She found it very strange that almost everyone closely associated with Michael Rawlins was dead. The only ones who weren’t dead were Phoebe, who had an attempt made on her life and Stillman, who had been a missing person for more than twenty-five years. He was probably dead, too.
Sally finished her report, concluding that the findings remained open at this stage, but it appeared possible that someone was out to make Michael Rawlins’ life a misery. As she emailed it to Marsh, she thought about what he had said. The bastard’s right. I need to start over. Vexed, she thought about which leads she should prioritize.
She dialed Phillips, “Pack your lunch for tomorrow,” she told him, “you’re driving us up to Maryborough.”
*****
Phoebe gave a bottle of wine in a gift bag to her secretary.
“Wow, Phoebe,” she said, smiling happily. Pulling it out of the bag she remarked appreciatively, “It’s a lovely wine.”
“Thanks for finding me the unit. They’ve just let me know I can have it,” Phoebe replied.
“When are you moving?”
“This weekend,” Phoebe answered.
“So soon? Have you got movers? What about your white goods?”
Phoebe looked at her secretary. She was suddenly cognizant of all the things she would have to do if she was moving in a few days. With her chest the way it was, she couldn’t do much lifting or packing, or even unpacking. She hadn’t thought it through properly and she was shocked at her lack of foresight. She had been too consumed by other things.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find you some movers. Should I get them to pack too?”
Phoebe nodded gratefully.
“What about cleaning out your fridge and freezer for moving?”
“I’ll have to buy new white goods,” Phoebe replied.
“If you pick them from a catalogue or on-line I can sort that for you too. And I’ll organize that service that get’s all of your utilities transferred or started up.”
“Thank you so much. You’re an angel,” Phoebe replied in sheer relief.
*****
Sally said, “That old lady was laughing her guts out at us!”
Phillips drove them steadily southbound out of Hervey Bay heading back to Brisbane.
He replied, “We were busy looking at the husband. It’s no big deal. So what if Jessop got to her first. We can always pump Jessop for what she’s got.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It just pisses me off that Amanda Jessop has been up here sticking her nose into things. And what about that break-in, eh? Think it was her?” Sally asked.
“That old Sergeant said none of the local kids were involved this time, so who knows? He wasn’t giving anything away,” Phillips replied.
“Yeah, he’s a wily old bastard. At least Jessop didn’t get to speak to him. He was a gold mine.” Sally added, “Interesting that he and the old lady think Stillman was a sociopath. The old sergeant thought he was doing the family a favor by not telling them about those tortured animals he was investigating Stillman for back in the day. I’m not so sure about that. Might have saved old Harry from pining after the boy all those years.”
Phillips replied, “I wish he’d kept some official records. We might have been onto this a bit earlier if there was something in the system.”
“He’s going to dig up his old notebooks and send them down to me,” Sally replied. “They’ll have everything we need. Even if he had done an official report, it probably wouldn’t be in the system. Look at how hard it was to get stuff that’s only ten years old, never mind twenty-five.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Well, I guess that’s why Stillman ran off back then. Didn’t want to get caught.”
&
nbsp; “Makes sense.”
“I wonder if he’s still out there somewhere, like the old lady thinks? By all accounts he would’ve grown up to be a big bloke. Sounds like he could be our muscle-man.” Phillips said.
Sally nodded, not replying. Absently, she removed her sunglasses and chewed on the earpiece as she considered the situation. She completely ignored the gorgeous scenery as they drove south. She thought, either we play nice with Amanda Jessop and ask her to give us what she knows, or we play hard and threaten to investigate her for the break-in. It’s in Amanda’s interests to hand over what she knows. It’ll only help her boss’s client. Sally realized Amanda probably knew the Biggenden police were aware she was in town on the night of the break-in. They hadn’t done anything about it. The wily old sergeant wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t bothered to investigate thoroughly for a couple of reasons. Firstly, nothing of value was taken and most importantly, Michael was Charlie Moss’s client. He wouldn’t want Charlie’s PA charged for helping his case. Sally sighed, realizing she didn’t have much leverage over Amanda after all. She made up her mind and grabbed her mobile phone.
“Darren, it’s Sally Middleton,” she said when Darren Franks answered.
“Sally, how are you?” Darren replied affably.
“Good, and you?” Sally replied, doing her best to sound relaxed and cheerful.
“Excellent. How can I help you?”
“Darren, I’d like to have a chat with Amanda Jessop.”
“Really?” Darren exclaimed, surprised. “What on earth for?”
“Cards on the table here Darren. Off the record, OK?”
“Sure,” Darren replied, curiosity evident in his voice.
“The investigation is taking a different tack. I know Amanda’s been looking into things on behalf of Michael Rawlins, and I think she might have some useful information.”
Darren replied, “I’ll arrange a meeting on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Sally asked, her voice hardening. Bloody lawyers, she thought, they never give anything away.
“I want you to tell the Crown Prosecutor that you agree with me when I make an application to relax my client’s bail conditions.”
“I’ll agree to give it some thought and discuss it with you, but no promises. Now are you going to set the meeting up, or do I have to bring Amanda in and interview her?”
“I’ll set it up for tomorrow.” Darren replied.
“I’ll wait to hear from you.” Sally ended the call. Turning to Phillips she said, “He wants Rawlins’ bail relaxed.”
“Cheeky bastard!”
“Yes. The thing is, I don’t want to send a message to the media that we don’t think it’s him anymore. Might tip off the real killer. But maybe we can work something out, depending on what they want and why they want it.”
Phillips nodded.
“When we get back, we’ll be grabbing our gym bags and heading over to Sanchez’s brother’s gym.”
Phillips snorted in laugher.
“What?” Sally demanded.
He said, “When was the last time you worked out?”
*****
Phoebe announced her intention to move out over dinner that night. Roman was devastated, his handsome face a mask of shock and disbelief.
“You can’t move out! Are you crazy?”
“You’ve been so good to me, but I need my own place. I need to start behaving like an independent grown up. I’m really happy here and I’ll miss you both, and Leo too, but it’s time for me to do this,” Phoebe replied firmly.
“What part of ‘someone’s trying to kill you’ don’t you get?” Roman replied hotly.
Mark put his wine glass down and interjected, “Now darling, she can make her own decisions, even if they are stupid ones.” He looked across the table at Phoebe with reproof on his mild face.
Phoebe stubbornly asserted, “I love you both. You’ve been so incredibly wonderful, but I need to do this. It’s not fair to make you put up with all of this drama. It’s not fair to put you in harm’s way. Besides, I need to start rebuilding my life, get out of limbo.”
“But you won’t be safe…” Roman started to say.
Phoebe cut him off, “The building has security. You can’t get in without buzzing someone at the gate and then again at the entrance. The car park needs a swipe and there are cameras everywhere.”
“Sweets, I just hate the idea of you being all alone,” Roman said, his face still showing how appalled he was at her decision.
“I won’t be far away,” Phoebe tried to sooth him.
Roman looked disconsolate.
Mark replied in his usual practical way, “We’ll help you move.”
Phoebe smiled at him in relief and gratitude.
*****
Sally stoically rode the exercise bike, sweat gathering uncomfortably on her body. She hadn’t realized how unfit she’d become. Sourly, she reflected that it had been her idea to do this. She wanted to rule out her last vestige of suspicion against Michael by investigating any possible connection to a muscular man through his mistress. The other detectives working in the task force had already interviewed the mistress’s brother, Henri Sanchez. Sally had seen the tape. He had an alibi and hadn’t been at all helpful. But who knows? Sally thought, maybe one of his friends is involved, with or without his knowledge?
She looked over at Phillips. He was bench-pressing some ridiculously large weights. One of the regular gym members, of average height, was spotting for him. It was nearly 9 PM and the place was almost empty.
The gym regular said, “Come on man, push!”
Phillips heaved the weight up one more time. The man helped him get it back down onto the rack.
Sitting up, Phillips wiped his brow with his towel as the man clapped him on the back. Sally noticed how overly muscular and defined the man was. He’s got to be using steroids, she thought. She watched as the two men engaged in some banter as Phillips took his turn spotting. She got off the bike and stepped onto a treadmill. Setting the machine to a slow pace, she walked, relieved. This I can do, she thought. The treadmill faced a wall of mirrors, allowing her to watch almost everything in the large gym without being noticed. The only space she couldn’t monitor was the area directly behind her.
Glancing at the weight bench, she saw Phillips still standing behind his new buddy. She hadn’t known Phillips had so many tattoos. His back and shoulders had various images inked in, none of them tasteful in her opinion. She could see yet another image on his chest, poking out of the top of his loose muscle singlet. Now I know why he always wears an undershirt, even in summer, she thought, reflecting on the incredible heat and humidity of a typical Queensland summer.
Phillips gave Sally a significant look, and she looked away, trying not to make it obvious they were communicating. When the man Phillips was spotting for finished lifting and headed to the locker room, Sally got off the treadmill. Together they followed the man into the male locker room, empty except for them, and joined him at his locker.
“Hey, this is for men, darling,” he said, indignant.
“Shut up,” Sally replied, flashing her police ID at him, “What’s in your locker, eh?”
He looked panicky and started to fidget, clearly trying to think of something to say.
Phillips said to him menacingly, “We know you’re juiced up. If I don’t find steroids in your locker, I’ll find them in your car. If I don’t find them in your car, I’ll find them at your house.”
Sally smiled menacingly at the man, who was now very shaken.
Phillips started to rifle through his locker.
“Hey! What are you doing, man?” He protested.
Holding up a small innocuous looking tube he found at the back of the locker, Phillips smiled and said teasingly. “Looky what I found.” Phillips checked the contents of the tube. It held a syringe and some liquid in a vial. He handed it over to Sally who placed it carefully in a plastic bag.
“Enough for a possession
charge right there,” she said smugly.
The man was devastated.
She said, “If you help us out, we won’t look in your car, or your house.” She looked at him significantly and added, “And things will go well for you when this charge comes to court.”
With a hopeful voice he asked, “What do you want?”
“Your name.” Sally demanded.
“Everett, Tim Everett,” he said obediently.
“Got some ID?” Sally replied.
Tim reached into his locker and got his wallet and driver license out. Sally used her phone to take a photo of it.
“Well Tim, what we want is eyes and ears,” Phillips replied.
Sally pulled a printed image from her sweater pocket. Showing it to Tim she said, “You know this guy, right?”
“Yeah, that’s Sanchez. Everyone knows him,” Tim replied.
“We want to know who he knows and who he speaks to.”
“He mainly hangs out with a guy called Morrow, a big guy. I don’t know his first name. He has some other mates, but they don’t come in as often as Morrow,” Tim replied.
“That’s a good start, Tim. You’ll call Phillips here if Morrow comes in, OK?”
Tim nodded.
“Make sure you let me know when he comes in,” Phillips said, handing Tim a card with his details on it.
“A uniformed officer will contact you soon about your possession charge,” Phillips said, smiling.
Sally and Phillips left the locker room together.
In the car on the way back to Nundah, Sally said, “Get someone to go over there tomorrow and get the membership list from the manager, OK? We need to find out more about Morrow.”
Phillips nodded.
*****
The next morning Sally was analyzing the Bowen Hills gym membership list when a call from Darren Franks came up on her phone.
“Hi Darren, we still on for our meeting?” She asked.