The Charlton Affair

by MJ Doherty

  She clicked on Mark Mitchell’s business site. It was an impressively put together website. Scrolling through the list of services his company provided, she noticed they offered networking solutions along with an impressive array of marketing and design options. She knew Phillips had already been over this ground, but she clicked on his bio anyway. Oh my God, she exclaimed to herself.

  Just as she was reaching for her work phone, it rang.

  She answered it calmly, “Hi Darren, got something for me?”

  “Yes, actually,” Darren replied.

  “Go ahead,” Sally replied, as she reached for a pen and some paper.

  “Mark Mitchell is an IT expert,” Darren said.

  Sally replied, “Yes, I know, but thanks for the tip anyway. Did it come from Jessop?”

  “Yes.”

  Grudgingly Sally replied, “It’s a good pick up. Tell her to keep the information coming in.”

  “So you’ve ruled him out then? Look, we don’t think it’s him, but I needed to flag it with you.”

  Sally paused, before admitting, “We haven’t necessarily ruled him out.”

  Darren said, “He’s over at Phoebe Rawlins new place at Southbank.”

  “New place?”

  “Didn’t she tell you?”

  “No,” Sally replied tightly. “What’s the address?”

  Darren gave it to her.

  “Thanks Darren.” Sally ended the call and called Phillips. She filled him in and said, “I asked you to check him out, didn’t I?”

  Phillips replied, puzzled, “Yes, I thought he was a business improvement consultant?”

  She growled, “Actually, he’s an expert in systems development and networks. How the fuck did we miss this?”

  Phillips sounded abashed as he admitted, “I fobbed it off to one of the junior Constables. I didn’t check it myself.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Phillips!” Sally said, unsuccessfully trying not to sound as mad as she felt.

  “We crossed him off the list already. He’s tall and muscular but he’s got no motive and no connection to Michael Rawlins. We looked at that.”

  “That was before we knew about the brother. Get someone to pick up Mark Mitchell and bring him in,” She told him, “Not a junior Constable. Get Price to do it. I want him questioned as soon as possible. Apparently he’s at Phoebe Rawlins’ new apartment in Southbank. I’ll text you the address. Call me when you have him.”

  *****

  Amanda was incredibly glad her Dad had been the one to teach her to drive. Extremely confident and capable in any vehicle, she could drive defensively and aggressively. She shifted the nondescript Mazda sedan up a gear as she took the corner fast, determined not to lose the Nissan Maxima she was tailing. The Maxima disappeared around another corner well ahead of her. She slammed her foot down and took the next corner at speed, entering an industrial area in the suburb of Mayne, north of the city center.

  Despite it being Saturday afternoon, the place was busy with all sorts of vehicles, including heavy vehicles and even some forklifts that probably should not be on the road. After slowing down, she looked ahead. The Maxima had also slowed. There were several trucks and cars between them now. The Maxima indicated left and Amanda pulled over into the nearest safe spot. After pulling out her camera, she took some photos of the industrial site the Maxima had driven into. The fence looked serviceable but not well maintained. It surrounded a large warehouse type building and a collection of shipping containers scattered around the property. There was no sign, only a large set of chains hanging from one of the open main gates and a large padlock on the other.

  Amanda put the camera down and took a slow drive past the site before parking behind a copse of trees a little further down the road in what looked like an informal car park for local workers. The Maxima was parked near one of the shipping containers. From her position behind the copse, she could see the site entrance through the trees, not clearly, but enough to see when the Maxima left.

  She opened the laptop and quickly entered the site address into the RP Data page. It came back with a bland company name, SM Investments Ltd, as the site owner. The property had been purchased the previous year. She went to the Australian Securities and Investments Commission website and performed a business name search. It confirmed the business was still registered. After logging remotely into her work server, she looked at the handy sheet of passwords and usernames she kept for the services Charlie used. She found the one for ASIC Company searches and ordered the search. It would cost Charlie about thirty-four dollars but she knew Charlie wouldn’t mind. The report was computer generated and would take time to arrive in Amanda’s email box.

  She called Charlie to update her before returning to her examination of Roman’s Facebook page as she waited for the Maxima to emerge. After about thirty minutes, a link arrived in her work email. She clicked it and it gave her the option to download the report. The directors of SM Investments were Mr. Stephen Morrow and Mr. Joff McCallum. She wondered if one of them drove the Nissan Maxima.

  Looking up Morrow on the internet revealed nothing of interest. Joff McCallum turned out to be an accountant. A sole practitioner who specialized in setting up corporations and advising on business models. His office was in Toowong, a relatively inner western suburb of Brisbane. Amanda leaned back in the car seat and continued to wait as she contemplated her next move.

  *****

  Phoebe watched Mark walk around the place with a satisfied smile.

  Mark turned to Phoebe from his position near the front door and announced, “It looks fantastic!”

  The apartment had all the essential items, a lounge, TV, bed, fridge, washer and dryer. It still required an outdoor setting for the balcony, some arm chairs, a dining setting and a coffee table, not to mention filling the empty spare bedroom. Nonetheless, it looked great so far. She was amazed at how easily they’d turned an empty space into a home. Roman had even artfully arranged a small posy of flowers in a vase on the kitchen bench.

  Phoebe smiled up at him, “Thank you so much, Mark. For everything!”

  She went over and hugged him tightly, “You guys are wonderful.” Taking a step back she looked up at his face. “And thanks for your support. It means a lot to me.”

  Mark smiled down at her, “Roman should be back in another half an hour or so. I really hope he finds us some decent food.”

  *****

  Roman pulled up in the driveway outside the apartment block. He dialed Mark to come down and swipe him into the car park. There was no answer. He dialed again and there was no answer. Eventually the phone went to voicemail. Frustrated, he dialed one more time. At this rate we’ll be eating cold pizza, he thought grumpily. He called Phoebe instead. No answer.

  Impatiently, he got out of the car, still clutching his phone. As he made for the entrance gate, he stepped over the garden edging. He watched where he was stepping and was horrified to see booted feet sticking horizontally out of a garden bed near the car park entrance. With extreme trepidation he approached and peered into the bush covering the man. He looked like he was unconscious.

  Roman’s chest tightened in tension and fear. He immediately dialed for an ambulance as he came even closer, straining to see if the man was breathing or not. He followed the emergency operator’s instructions and placed a hand on the man’s chest. There was warmth and faint movement. The operator told him to roll the man over onto his left side, making sure he could breathe. He checked the pulse at his neck. It was strong.

  Roman’s heart was beating so hard it felt like it would jump right out of his ribs. He vaguely remembered something about the recovery position from a first aid class he’d done a long time ago. Once the man was on his left side, his breathing seemed to get deeper. Roman could see a large bleeding gash on the back of his head. After taking off his sweater, he pushed it up against the man’s head in an effort to stop the bleeding. The operator reassured him and said there would be a crew of paramedics and police the
re shortly.

  Suddenly it occurred to him that Mark and Phoebe might not be safe. Forgetting about the unconscious man, he ran frantically to the front gate and pressed every apartment button he could, yelling to be let in. Someone released the gate lock. He did the same thing at the entrance, and again someone let him in. He punched the lift button in desperation. He could hardly contain himself as the lift rose. It felt like it was taking a lifetime to get there. Finally he made it to the thirteenth floor and bolted to Phoebe’s door. It was ajar. He ran inside, crying out Mark’s name. He checked every room. They were all empty. Roman was crushed by the dread he felt. He sank to his knees with his head in his hands and cried, utterly certain that something truly horrible had happened.

  *****

  Phillips strode into Phoebe Rawlins’ apartment. The uniformed officers had arrived only a little ahead of him, to pick up Mark Mitchell. As soon they realized he and Phoebe were missing, they cordoned off the relevant areas and called the scenes of crimes officers. The unconscious man in the garden bed had been identified as a private security officer.

  Phillips looked around the apartment carefully, noting what looked like small tire marks in the doorway and the front entrance area. He directed the scenes of crime officers to make sure they captured photos and samples of the rubbery looking marks.

  Phoebe’s mobile telephone was on the kitchen bench along with her handbag, wallet and keys. None of Mark Mitchell’s belongings were found in the apartment.

  Phillips dialed Sally.

  “Have you got him?” Sally answered.

  “No. I’m at Phoebe Rawlins’ apartment. The uniforms got here before me and found Roman Coustas very distressed. Looks like Phoebe Rawlins and Mark Mitchell are missing. Coustas’ story is that he went out to get some pizza and when he got back he couldn’t raise them on their phones. Then he found an unconscious man in one of the apartment garden beds. Turns out he was a private security guard. We’re not sure who hired him yet. The paramedics are down there now. He’s been bashed in the back of the head. Sound familiar? Anyway, Coustas got into the building and came up to the apartment to find the door unlocked and the apartment empty.”

  “Bloody hell!” Sally cursed.

  “You’d better get over here,” Phillips replied.

  “I’ll be there ASAP. I’ll call the Inspector on the way.”

  “OK.” Phillips ended the call.

  *****

  Amanda had been waiting behind the copse of trees at the Mayne industrial site for almost three hours, scrolling through the remainder of the links on Roman’s Facebook page, and Mark’s and Phoebe’s pages. Looking at the time, she thought about getting out of the car and going for a walk. She needed to empty her uncomfortably full bladder. A side-effect of surveillance work, she thought. She was debating whether to wait until it was dark to explore the industrial site when her phone rang. It was Darren.

  “Hi Darren,” she answered.

  “Lovie, Phoebe Rawlins and Mark Mitchell are missing. I’m at the Nundah Police Station with Michael. They picked him up an hour ago.”

  Stunned, Amanda gasped, “What happened?”

  “From what I can gather, Roman found a security guard unconscious outside Phoebe’s new apartment block a couple of hours ago and then went up to find the door open and Phoebe and Mark gone. We’re waiting for Sally Middleton to come and question Michael. Look, I can’t get Charlie. Her phone keeps going to voicemail. Can you call her and update her?”

  “Darren, er… I should let you know that Charlie hired a guard to follow Phoebe around after she found out about Phoebe moving.”

  “Why would she do that?” Darren replied, confused.

  “Charlie was very worried about her,” Phoebe said after a pause. She added grimly, “With good reason, it seems.”

  Darren’s breath caught momentarily. Amanda could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, the sound of the dots connecting.

  Finally he said in a knowing voice, “That’s great she did that for our client. There’s nothing in the bail arrangement that prohibits it. I’m sure Michael will endorse it. The police may not even question it.”

  Amanda replied in a steady voice, “Good. And what about Phoebe? Any clues?”

  “The police are saying nothing. We’ll have to wait,” Darren replied grimly.

  “Either Mark took her, or they were both taken,” Amanda said.

  “He’s a big man, who could take him?” Darren replied. His tone told her he thought Mark was the wrongdoer.

  “Where are you, anyway?” Darren asked.

  “I’m sitting outside an industrial site in Maine. The gym guy I’ve been following hasn’t moved for ages,” Amanda replied.

  “Right, well, I don’t think you need to worry about him anymore.”

  “Guess not,” Amanda agreed.

  Amanda ended the call and dialed Charlie. Charlie’s phone went to voicemail. She began composing a text message but Charlie called before she was finished.

  “Have you heard?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes, I’ve been on the phone with Roman. He’s a complete mess,” Charlie replied.

  Amanda heard the despair in Charlie’s voice. She’s not far off being a complete mess, too, she thought. She said, “I’ve just spoken to Darren. He’s at the police station with Michael.” She explained her conversation with Darren to Charlie.

  “Thanks for covering for me,” Charlie replied in a dead voice.

  Amanda could tell she was far too worried about Phoebe to care about herself at the moment.

  “What about Roman?” Amanda asked.

  “I’ve organized a lawyer for him. The police are questioning him about Mark and about his own involvement now that they suspect Mark. They have a team over at Roman’s house, taking it to bits.”

  “Poor Roman,” Amanda said, “I’m done here. I’ll come over soon.”

  “Thanks Amanda,” Charlie said appreciatively.

  Amanda’s heart went out to her boss and to Roman. The situation had spiraled deeper than she ever thought it would. As she drove slowly past the industrial site she peered into the gates. She could see the Nissan Maxima still parked near the container where it had been for hours.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amanda pushed the buzzer for Charlie’s apartment. It didn’t take long for the door release to activate. Amanda let herself in and made her way to the top floor of the small, old-fashioned building. Amanda admired the art-deco style of the place as she climbed the stairs.

  Charlie opened the door before she had a chance to knock. Amanda hugged her briefly. Charlie’s tired eyes were red and her face was drawn. Amanda followed her to the kitchen and placed her bag and computer on the kitchen bench. Charlie pulled some re-heated slices of pizza from the oven and put them on a plate. Amanda could see that Charlie was trying to keep herself busy. It looked at though she was clearing out the kitchen cupboards. Knowing Charlie, it was an attempt to keep her emotions at bay.

  “Thanks,” Amanda said as she gratefully accepted the plate. She was starving.

  Charlie sat at the table with her, sipping a glass of water, looking more depressed than Amanda had ever seen her.

  Amanda watched her carefully as she ate, pausing to say, “Have you spoken to Darren yet?”

  “Yes, he says the cops are in full swing. They’re doing all the usual things,” Charlie replied flatly.

  “Well, that’s something,” Amanda replied.

  Charlie nodded.

  “I’m so sorry Charlie, I’m out of leads. I really don’t think Mark is Stillman, but even if he is, I don’t know where he is…”

  “It’s not your fault,” Charlie replied, “it’s just so fucking awful,” she choked out with a sob.

  Amanda stopped eating and put her arm around Charlie, trying to comfort her. As she held Charlie while she wept, Amanda prayed that Phoebe was still alive, wherever she was.

  *****

  Phoebe came to in total darkness. Instantly
panicking, she tried to reach out to get up. Her movement triggered a sensor and the lights activated. As she blinked, her eyes struggled to acclimatize. Soon she could see she was sitting on a slim cot in a small windowless room. A small table with a container of water on it was in one corner. Another corner housed a toilet and tiny sink. A door was opposite the cot. She got up and tried to open it. It was locked.

  Overwhelmed, she screamed out several times as she shook the door fruitlessly, “Help! Help me!”

  No one responded.

  She thought she could hear faint laughter echoing somewhere from the other side of the door, along with heavy footfalls. Quiet now, she listened closely. The footfalls faded until she heard the thud of a heavy door and then nothing.

  Seized by terror, and shivering in exhaustion and despair, she collapsed back on the cot. Clutching at her thin blanket, she struggled not to sob. Her chest ached worse than ever. Her head was throbbing in pain and her mouth felt coated and dry, her tongue thick. It was as if she had woken with a massive hangover. She touched the back of her head and found a large painful lump below her right ear. It wasn’t bleeding but it was incredibly tender. It hurt to move her head.

  The last thing she remembered was being in her new apartment with Mark. He had gone to use the bathroom when she’d heard something behind her. Everything went dark after that.

  “He’s got me,” she whispered aloud, giving voice to her horror.

  “Yes, I’ve got you my dear,” a disembodied voice sounded in the room.

  Startled, she looked up. A speaker had been placed into the gyprock sheeting making up the ceiling. That meant there was probably a camera somewhere too.

  “What do you want?” Phoebe asked in a thin voice.

  “To kill you,” the voice responded slowly. “But not today,” the voice paused and then added, “And not tomorrow, or the day after that. But it will happen. Soon.”