The Charlton Affair (15 page)

“Use Doctor Martin Briggs, at the Wellness Center in Windsor. He’s very good.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll call him.”

“Do you mind if I get Roman to help me with the tracking if you can get me the documents this week? It’s just that I’m not back at work until Monday. The software we have at work would be a great help with this.” Phoebe asked.

“I’m sure that’s OK, so long he doesn’t tell anyone at all about it.” Darren replied.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

“How are things going? Are you any closer to finding out what’s been going on?” Phoebe asked.

Darren guardedly replied, “There’s nothing I’m able to tell you at the moment, but that doesn’t mean things aren’t moving along. I’m afraid it’s very complicated.”

“Yes, I know. It can’t be easy to find the person. I know whoever interfered with my car must have been an IT expert. Judging by the CCTV footage, he was a very muscular expert. He must have known Michael’s routine, too.”

“Would that be easy to know?” Darren asked.

“Not at all. Especially not with his travelling. Often he didn’t have much notice of when he was being sent away. Short of sitting outside the house and watching him, I don’t know how they would have known his schedule.”

“Thanks, Phoebe, I’ll be in touch soon.”

*****

“OK, tonight we’re going to ignore the rest of the world and go out for a lovely dinner and some even lovelier wine,” Roman announced, “lots of lovely wine!”

“Does Mark know what you get up to when he’s away?” Phoebe teased.

Roman laughed as he dialed one of his favorite places to make a booking.

“Sweets, if he wants to flit down to Melbourne, the fine dining capitol of the country by the way, I’m entitled to go out.”

Phoebe smiled warmly at her friend, suspecting he was just trying to take her mind off things.

“Besides, he’s been gone for a couple of days already and I’ve been a good boy all that time. I’ve even been walking the dog. The dog that he got without asking me. The dog that’s put scratch marks on my floors and dribble on my furniture.”

He was getting a lot of mileage out of Mark’s acquisition of a large dog without his input. No wonder Mark had decided it was a good time to make a business trip.

“I’ll make sure you drink lots of water between wines.” Phoebe offered, changing the subject.

“You’re no fun.” Roman replied.

*****

Phoebe woke early, as usual. Her bedroom at Roman’s house overlooked his rear garden. Roman’s threats of drinking copious amounts of wine the previous evening had fizzled and they were home before eleven. As she opened her curtains to let in the morning light, she saw movement through the window. She looked out and saw Leo standing and wagging his tail at something.

Phoebe tiptoed out of her room, curious about who or what Leo might be wagging his tail at. Roman was not usually an early riser. It could be another animal or a person, or nothing at all. Wondering what she was going to do if it was a stranger, she grabbed a cordless telephone as she crept to a spot where she could peer through the outdoor room to the garden just in case she had to dial the police urgently.

She was amazed at what she saw.

Leo was sitting and holding up his paw for Roman to shake. Roman shook it and gave Leo a treat, patting and praising him. Leo gulped it down, tail wagging. Roman told Leo to roll over and made some gestures for him. Leo cocked his big black head to one side. His ears perked up and he looked carefully at Roman, trying to understand. The look of canine concentration on his face was incredibly endearing.

Roman smiled at Leo and patiently made the gestures again. Leo lay down but didn’t know what to do then. He looked up at Roman expectantly. Roman gave him a treat and ruffled the fur under his jaw affectionately, praising him again.

Phoebe retreated, not wanting to disturb Roman’s canine bonding session.
Wonders will never cease!
Her busy mind extrapolated where this new interest might lead. She had visions of Leo decked out in all sorts of designer apparel. Faux diamond studded collars, neckerchiefs and doggy sunglasses came to mind. Stifling a giggle, she went to have her shower.

After she emerged from her room, showered and dressed, Phoebe went to the kitchen for coffee. She did a complete double take when she saw the news headlines scrolling across the bottom of the cheesy breakfast show Roman was playing on the TV. Roman was standing in the lounge room, staring at the screen in horror. Grabbing the remote control, she flicked over to a news channel.

Images of Michael and of his mistress flashed across the screen as the presenter announced that police had found Marita Sanchez dead in her apartment yesterday. Sure enough, her own image appeared and the whole story of Michael’s arrest and bail hearing was aired yet again.

Phoebe sank onto the couch, her head in her hands. She found it difficult to breath for a moment, lost in the mess her life had become. Then she thought of that unfortunate dead woman. Whatever her situation had been, she did not deserve to be murdered.

Looking at Roman, she said, “Why do so many people in Michael’s life end up dead? Am I next?”

Roman sat down next to her and put his arm over her shoulder, “Not if I can help it.”

The news channel played footage of Michael being picked up in a police car from the Hamilton home. The newsreader said police were questioning him, but no charges had been laid yet.

Leo came up to Phoebe and laid his big head in her lap. He looked up at her with his soulful eyes. She patted his head as she wondered what would come next. It occurred to her that her presence at Roman’s house might be endangering her friends. She was almost recovered from her injury and could look after herself.
I have to find somewhere else to live, so that Roman and Mark aren’t caught up in this horrible mess.

*****

Sally Middleton replied through grated teeth, “Yes, sir.”

Inspector Ronald Marsh replied, “You know what to do. Get to it, Middleton. I want that information before lunchtime.”

“Yes, sir.” Sally left the Inspector in the newly established Major Incident Room to find Phillips, her face revealing her anger.
Pompous arsehole
, she thought.

“Well?” Phillips asked when he saw her approaching.

“We’re staying with the murder investigation but everything has to go through Marsh.” Sally replied irritably.

“That prick!” Phillips spat out.

“Keep your voice down!” Sally urged. In low tones, she said, “Let’s get out of here. He wants us to follow up on the scenes of crimes results before lunch.”

They went to the car Phillips had booked out for the day. As he drove them over to the scenes of crimes laboratory at Police Headquarters, she explained, “The Chief Superintendent says it’s too big for us but he wants to keep it at Nundah, so he’s brought Marsh in to run it.”

“But he’s a bastard!” Phillips ejaculated angrily, “Besides, Ronnie Marsh couldn’t find his big fat arse with both hands!”

“The Chief said it was the only way we were going to keep our own hands on it and get more resources. Our little investigation is now Operation Tzar, with a full MIR and another two detectives, under the Inspector. That includes the attempted murder and the assault on Phoebe Rawlins and the Sanchez murder. They could have just given the murder to Homicide, you know. Then we’d never have gotten near it. This way we keep all of it.”

“Right, and what does the Chief expect us to do when Ronnie Marsh pisses everybody off?” Phillips replied, rubbing his short, military style, sandy-colored hair in frustration and anger.

“He said we have to run our own race, and that he has full confidence in us.”

“What the hell does that mean? Why can’t the bosses ever just speak straight?” Phillips complained.

“That’s why they’re the ones with commissions. They know how the game is played. It’s political, Phillips. If you want to climb the ladder you’re going to have to learn how to keep your arse covered. The Chief basically told me to keep doing what I’m doing, and that he trusts me to manage Ronnie Marsh. Of course, officially, he directed me to act under Inspector Marsh’s supervision. My guess is the Assistant Commissioner told the Chief that if he wanted to keep the Operation at Nundah he had to take Ronnie, just to get him out of Headquarters.”

Phillips sighed, “If those are the games I’d have to play, I don’t want to be a commissioned officer.”

“You and me both.” Sally replied fervently, “I don’t even want to make senior sergeant. The extra twenty grand would be nice, but I’d be stuck behind a desk doing nothing but paperwork. I didn’t sign up for that.”

*****

Charlie was in court. Amanda took advantage of her absence to spread out a series of sheets of butchers’ paper across the floor of Charlie’s office. Information about each of the connections in Phoebe and Michael’s lives was on each sheet. The sheets contained a timeline, historical information, and even random information that Amanda had been unable to connect to anything. Everything Amanda knew was right there on Charlie’s floor.

Amanda walked around it, occasionally moving a sheet to match it up with another sheet. She did this for a while until she distilled what she thought were the main facts.

Her father always told her to look at the crime itself. The nature of the crime will tell you the nature of the criminal, he said. Amanda reflected on the three crimes. One was extremely technical. The other two were incredibly violent, with potential technical aspects. All three crimes were vicious. The CCTV footage from Phoebe’s work showed that the person who had been directly involved in the car tampering was muscular, as was the man who assaulted Phoebe in her home. Logic said it was the same man, but there was no direct proof.

The man who had appeared at the Rawlins’ homestead the night she had broken in was muscular.
Was it a random coincidence? Had he known she would be there? Was it the same man?

The Hamilton home was alarmed. Phoebe said in her police statement that the alarm was always activated when she was not home. The man must have gotten past the alarm somehow, unless Michael had given him the code.

Amanda did not yet know enough about the Sanchez murder to know if there was a similar technical aspect to it. In any event, the car tampering displayed a level of sophistication with computers not often seen. And certainly not in Brisbane.

Michael’s local and overseas accounts revealed no unexplained payments, in or out. Unless he had been saving for years and had a secret slush fund somewhere, he wasn’t paying anyone to commit crimes. He was guilty of giving cash to his mistress but not to anyone else.

Amanda knew there was no evidence that Michael was a technical whiz, in fact his wife said he was the opposite and she had no reason to lie about it. Therefore the person responsible for the car tampering and the assault was someone who was not being paid by Michael but was connected to him in some way.

Another thing Amanda wondered about was that with Michael’s constant travelling, why was it the assault and the car tampering happened when he was not overseas?
Was it coincidence? Or was it an attempt to set Michael up? The car tampering was definitely an attempt to set him up, with the iPad being found in his bedside table.
In the first case, Michael had been up at Noosa with his mistress, and in the second, Michael was in Brisbane, albeit at Sanchez’s apartment. Michael was also in Brisbane when his mistress was murdered, but that was due to his strict bail conditions.

Whoever it was must have known something about Michael’s schedule, at least enough to know when Michael was in the country, but perhaps not enough to know his exact location. Michael’s schedule was unpredictable. According to what Michael and Phoebe had told them, often Michael might not have very much notice of trips he had to make. Amanda suddenly thought,
what if he’s hacking Michael’s emails? Surely that would be easy for a man who can hack a car? Is he hacking my emails too? What the hell is going on?

Amanda dialed Darren.

“Hi lovie,” he answered cheerfully.

“Darren, I think our criminal has been hacking Michael’s emails, and maybe mine too.”

“That’s taking things a bit far, don’t you think,” Darren scoffed.

Amanda explained her reasoning about the timing of the car tampering and about how all of the crimes had occurred when Michael was in the country. She explained what happened at the Rawlins’ homestead.

Darren remarked, “That’s really creepy, Amanda. Maybe you’re right? It would be very hard to know Michael’s movements otherwise. Your movements, too. What a horrible idea.”

“What have you emailed him?” Amanda asked.

Darren replied worriedly, “Pretty much everything. Because of his travelling it’s been easier than calling him.”

“Shit,” Amanda replied, “if he’s hacking Michael’s mail he knows just about everything about the case. If he’s hacking my mail he would have known everything I’ve been planning before I did it.”