Read The Charlton Affair Online
Authors: MJ Doherty
The Charlton Affair (22 page)
*****
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
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.”
She heard him chuckling before the sound cut off abruptly.
She felt so sickened it made her retch. As she leaned over, she desperately tried to stop the dry retching that was causing intense pain in her head and chest. Becoming dizzy, she came close to fainting. Suddenly she had a moment of clarity. She could fall apart or she could find the strength to hold onto hope. Hope that the police and Charlie and Amanda would find her.
Somehow she got her breathing and nausea under control. She lay back down and stayed perfectly still, counting off the seconds slowly in her mind until the lack of movement made the lights fade. When darkness finally came, she felt some small relief that he couldn’t see her. Her mind frantically churned and she thought,
what am I going to do?
Determined not to give in to panic, she figured she could at least try to work out how to get out. The other thing she could do made her feel sick to the core. She needed to speak to this monster, to engage him, to try to find out things from him. Unable to face that task immediately, she tried to perform a calming meditation her therapist had taught her.
*****
Sally waited along with everyone else in the large room. Inspector Marsh had convened the MIR and was about to bark out information and tasks, she knew from experience. The room was full of people. It looked like he’d seconded the whole of Nundah police station.
There must be more than thirty people in here,
she thought
,
as she looked around at the chatting group of uniformed officers and detectives.
“Quiet!” He demanded in his usual abrasive manner, adding, “we’re not fucking around here. Lets get this briefing on the road.”
The room fell instantly silent.
Marsh commenced detailing the situation, “It’s now 1900 hours and Phoebe Rawlins has been missing for over three hours. Mark Mitchell is also missing. You all know that normally we don’t regard anyone as being missing when they’ve only been gone a few hours, but we know the woman was under threat. The circumstances are also suspicious.” He looked at the newcomers to the room as he said this.
“Here’s what we have so far,” he continued, “a tall muscular man attacked Rawlins in her home just over five weeks ago. Then, two weeks after that, a tall muscular man was seen via CCTV tampering with her car when it was parked at her workplace. That night on the way home she was severely injured in a car crash because of the tampering. The crash was triggered remotely, using an application on an iPad. Therefore, our man is an IT expert. At first we suspected Rawlins’ husband, Michael Rawlins. Michael Rawlins is not tall or muscular, but his wife is insured for five million dollars and he can afford to hire people. He also had a mistress, Marita Sanchez. Ten days ago, Sanchez was murdered by a person over six feet tall. The method was a blow to the back of the head using a blunt instrument.” Marsh paused briefly, letting the information sink in.
He continued, “Today, a security guard hired to protect Phoebe Rawlins was found unconscious outside Rawlins’ apartment. He’d been knocked out by a blow to the back of the head. The security guard is about six feet tall himself, making it likely that whoever did it is also tall. Then, Phoebe Rawlins and Mark Mitchell disappeared. They were last seen in Rawlins’ apartment by her friend and co-worker Roman Coustas, the gay partner of Mitchell. There are wheel marks in the doorway to the place. We’ve managed to rule out the dollies used by the delivery and removals people that were at the apartment today. Someone used a trolley for something. Maybe to transport a body out?”
Marsh looked around the room.
“The apartment block CCTV was disabled. Deliberately. Multiple cameras were covered up or damaged, including the ones in the car park, the front gate and the car park entrance. The last camera images are from 0400 hours this morning. The images show a large muscular man in a balaclava reaching up to cover or damage the cameras.”
Marsh paused and made sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing, “Mark Mitchell is an IT expert. He also happens to be tall and muscular.”
Looking at Sally, he said, “We should have been looking at him long ago, but someone fucked up.”
Looking around the room again, he announced, “Mitchell owns a rental property in New Farm. That property and his residence, also in New Farm, have been thoroughly searched with nil results. The Hamilton home of Michael Rawlins has also been searched. Again, no results. Michael Rawlins and Roman Coustas have been interviewed. Both of them deny any knowledge about the disappearances.”
Marsh paused for a breath, then continued, “Coustas’ movements getting food this afternoon check out, so he’s not in the picture. Michael Rawlins’ car was cold and still parked in his drive, with leaves and debris on the windscreen. It doesn’t look like it’s been moved for a few days. No other vehicles are registered to him. He has a holiday house at Noosa. Local police have checked it out and nothing has been found. There are no trolleys or other moving equipment at any of the properties we checked.”
Looking around the room, he continued, “We’ve got access to the CCTV and street camera footage from the entire Southbank area and the nearby streets for a sixteen hour period from the time the apartment block cameras were disabled. It’s all set up on the first floor.”
“Before I starting making allocations, I’m directing you all to be back here at 2245 hours tonight for a debrief and handover before the night-shift starts.”
Pointing at a large group of uniformed officers he directed, “You lot will review the CCTV footage. Look for any vehicle that arrives in the area and then leaves again. Pay special attention to vans and trucks. Vehicles that could carry ladders and trolleys and store bodies. Drake, you supervise them. Get to it,” he ordered.
Ten uniformed officers and one detective left the room.
Pointing at a pair of detectives, he ordered, “Go follow up with scenes of crimes. I want anything they have the moment they get it.”
Two more people left the room.
He pointed at all of the remaining uniformed officers in the room, “You lot, start speaking to every single resident on Rawlins’ floor. Then speak to everyone in the damn building. Then speak to everyone in the neighboring buildings and businesses. Somebody must have seen something. Get to it.”
Another ten people left the room.
Pointing at a single detective he ordered, “Go to the Mater Hospital and interview that security guard as soon as possible. The moment the doctors clear him.”
Pointing at another detective, he ordered, “Get over to the security company and get the details of who ordered the job. Confirm that it was Michael Rawlins through his barrister, Moss. Then find out what you can about the guard.”
“You two, my office. Now,” he ordered, pointing at the only two people left in the room, Sally and Phillips.
*****
Inspector Marsh did not invite Sally and Phillips to sit. Instead he lectured them where they stood.
“I can’t believe you missed that about Mitchell! Idiots, the pair of you!” Marsh roared at them.
Sally stared resolutely ahead, fists clenched.
Phillips’ hung his head before admitting, “It was my fault, sir. Don’t blame her.”
Marsh responded, “It’s her fault because she’s in charge of you, moron.”
Phillips blanched.
“You two can stay with the most unimportant lead on this case. Forget about doing anything else. Follow up that gym in Bowen Hills. I’m giving Michael Rawlins to Markovic and Price, so don’t go near him.” Marsh barked at the pair, before telling them to get out of his office.
Phillips was still burning with anger and humiliation when they got to their desks.
“Fucking bastard,” he said to Sally.
“Keep your voice down,” she shushed him, looking around the room carefully.
Phillips looked defiant.
“Come on, let’s check if uniform got to go visit the two Morrows,” Sally said, directing his attention to her screen.
She checked the database and saw the notes there. Phillips was leaning over her shoulder, also reading the entries.
They looked at each other. Sally said, “That’s odd.”
Phillips replied, “Maybe the Morrow we want doesn’t have a license? Because it’s not either of those two blokes.”
Sally’s instincts were on alert, she had a feeling something was not right. She said, “Maybe he uses a fake name at the gym?”
“Let’s go get Sanchez again and pump him for information about Morrow,” Phillips suggested.
“Good idea,” Sally replied. She couldn’t think of anything else. Until Everett let them know when Morrow was back in the gym, there wasn’t much else to follow up.
They left the station, heading for Sanchez’s flat in Albion.
*****
Michael wrung his hands in worry and despair.
This is all down to me and my fucked up family,
he thought. He poured himself another generous shot of bourbon and added some coke to his glass.
The police had let him come back home after he was interviewed. He had been of no assistance to them at all.
I’ve been no good to anyone
, he thought bitterly.
Especially not poor Phoebe. What the fuck is going on? Is it my brother? And what about Honore?
