The Charlton Affair (23 page)

Michael had found himself becoming more and more filled with memories about his poor dead sister and the rest of his original family. After his psychiatrist had broken the news to him recently about her diary contents, he had wept like a child. Knowing what had happened to her had left him reeling in despair and shock. He had the dairy with him now. Ever since it was given to him, he had kept it close, holding it at times, but not daring to open it and read it. The touch of it somehow made what happened more real to him. The shabbiness of the old pink cover and the little broken lock were the dismal symbols of all that was left of his family.

He could see his sister’s beautiful sad face. He could remember her holding him close and telling him that she would try to look after him. That she would try to keep him safe. He understood now that she had tried her best to shield him from the evil lurking in his family. He couldn’t imagine the unspeakable things she had been through for his sake.

He remembered how distant and unconcerned his mother had been, Stillman her only care. His father was mostly unhappy from what he could recall. And as for Stillman, he was a horrible bully. Smug, gloating, superior. Michael remembered how he used to tease him relentlessly, and physically hurt him every time he could get away with it. Stillman always acted like an angel when adults were around. Their mother always took Stillman’s side if Michael complained. Their father withdrew. Honore had been the only one to stand up for him. And now poor sweet Phoebe had been dragged into all of it. And Mark too, purely because he cared for Phoebe.

Michael downed his drink and wept again.

“Please God, don’t kill Phoebe,” he begged, sobbing.

All the while his head was filled with images of Honore’s kind face, always so sad.

*****

Phillips bashed on the door to Sanchez’s third floor unit. Sally leaned over the railing of the 1970s multi-apartment block, looking at the cars parked in the drive below. Unattractive, untidy and noisy, it was the perfect place for a drug dealer.

The door finally opened a crack. Phillips shoved his foot in the crack and said, “Police, open up.”

“You got a warrant?” An aggressive voice demanded from the other side of the door.

“We’re here about your sister, dickhead, not your drugs,” Phillips replied.

“Wait there,” the voice responded.

A moment later, the door opened and Henri Sanchez stepped outside, closing his apartment door firmly behind him.

Sally eyed the small man. He looked aggressive and suspicious.
Not unusual for a drug dealer,
she thought,
paranoia goes with the territory
. He was well muscled. She could see the edges of tattoos poking out from under his collar and sleeves. His eyes were red and tired, but his pupils were not pinpoint or dilated.
Good
, she thought,
he’s not wasted
.

“Come on,” Sanchez said, leading them to the rear stairs.

“Don’t want your customers to see you speaking with police?” Phillips jeered as they followed him.

Sanchez replied, “Damn right, pig. Now what the fuck do you want?”

Phillips bristled. Sally placed a calming hand on his arm.

She said to Sanchez, “Tell us about your mate, Morrow.”

“We lift together. I don’t see him anywhere else,” Sanchez said.

“That’s it?” Phillips demanded.

“I don’t even know where he lives, man. Get off my case. If it wasn’t for my sister I wouldn’t even speak to you…”

Sally cut him off before he uttered whatever name he was about to call them, “Look, Sanchez, I don’t give a shit about your lifestyle, I just want to find whoever killed your sister, OK?”

Sanchez nodded, “I hear it’s not that pussy, Rawlins?”

Sally confirmed, “It’s not Rawlins. Did Morrow ever meet Rawlins?”

“Nah, it’s like I said, lady. I only hang with Morrow at the gym. He never knew my sister, and he sure as hell never met her stuck-up boyfriend.”

“Listen, Sanchez, what I’m going to tell you isn’t public news OK?” She said.

Sanchez nodded. He looked at her. They were at the back of his building, behind the washing lines where none of the residents could see them.

She looked him in the eye and said, “Your sister was murdered by someone who was over six feet tall. And whoever it was had sex with her too. Didn’t look like rape.”

Sanchez flexed his muscles as if he was trying to control himself. He looked really angry, as if he was about to punch something. After a few moments, he calmed a little and his shoulders sank.

Looking at Sally he said, “I know she was no angel, but she was still my sister, you know?”

“I know,” Sally said sympathetically. She added, “Any idea at all who it could have been?”

Sanchez looked angry again, “I wish I knew. I’d kill the fucker myself,” he replied.

Sally believed him. “Tell me what you know about Morrow,” she said.

“I’ve known him maybe six months. He just showed up one day and started lifting.  I was the only one around to spot for him. It got to be regular, you know?”

Sally nodded.

“He likes sport and chicks and he’s juiced up.”

Sally nodded again, “What sort of car does he drive?”

“A green Nissan Maxima, maybe ten years old. Nothing flash.”

“What’s his registration number?”

“No idea.”

“OK, where does he live?”

“I don’t know, never been there,” Sanchez said.

“Does he have a job?”

“He never said. I never asked.”

“OK, when does he come in to the gym?” Sally asked him.

“Sometimes he lifts at night and sometimes in the day. It’s not always the same. He comes in at least five days though. He’s a serious lifter.”

Phillips asked, “Don’t you guys have a time where you meet up there or something?”

“Nah, man. I do a lot of business there. I’m there all day sometimes,” Sanchez replied.

Sally nodded. “Listen,” she said, “don’t tell him we were asking about him, OK? And don’t act like you know us if we show up at the gym.”

Sanchez nodded sullenly.

He asked, “You think it’s him?”

Sally replied honestly, “I don’t know. I’ve got nothing solid. I just know he’s lying about something.”

Sanchez sneered, “We all are, lady. You better get more than that.” He walked away, leaving them behind the clothesline. They could hear him muttering, “Fucking pigs,” as he left.

*****

Sally and Phillips joined everyone assembled in the MIR at 2245 hours as ordered. They had very little to report. After they left Sanchez, they came back to the station and looked up the list of men called Stephen Morrow in the electoral rolls in Brisbane. There were a total of three. The first two had been checked out already. The third one was living in a nursing home. Whoever the big guy was, he wasn’t actually called Stephen Morrow.

Sally listened carefully as the other groups reported. The security guard had been hired by Charlie Moss. He was awake and couldn’t remember anything. Whoever hit him, did it from behind. He never saw the man.

The forensics revealed no fingerprints other than Phoebe’s, Roman’s and Mark’s and various deliverymen. They found some fair hair on the floor in the apartment. Roman Coustas and Mark Mitchell were fair, so they had to test it to see whom it might belong to. Minute traces of blood, unable to be seen with the human eye, were picked up with by the forensic black light. They had no idea whose blood it could be. It was blood type O positive. DNA analysis results would come as soon as possible.

Sally mused,
that gets us nowhere
.
About 38 per cent of the population is O positive
. The reports kept coming in. The door-knock revealed very little. No one from the surrounding buildings or businesses had seen anything of interest. Some of the other people on Phoebe’s floor had heard trolley noises all day. So had the apartments above and below Phoebe’s. They had not paid attention, as they knew she was moving in. One of the neighbors did say he thought he heard a trolley in the hall at around 1600 hours.

The CCTV crew’s report was far more interesting. Their task had been mammoth and they were far from finished. However they had identified approximately thirty vehicles in the vicinity of the apartment building at 0400 that were also there twelve hours later at 1600. Of course many of them were vehicles for the nearby cafes, restaurants and bakeries. They had not yet finished looking at the times between 0400 and 1600 or after 1600.

A team of people was already hunting down the addresses they got from the registration checks and investigating them. So far no tall muscular men had been identified as the drivers of the vehicles. It was like finding a needle in a haystack but with persistence they would identify the driver. Sally only hoped it was not too late when they did.

*****

Charlie woke gasping for breath, choking with fear and dread. Her heart pounded like it would jump out of her chest. She had never felt such terror. Disoriented, she looked around frantically until she realized she was at home in her room. She reached over and switched on the light, desperately trying to calm down.

Then she remembered. The memory hit her like a punch to the diaphragm and she gasped for breath all over again. Phoebe had been taken. Sobbing and hugging herself, she went to the bathroom. She managed to clean her face with a washcloth before going to her lounge. Standing at her balcony doors, she stared out at the Queensland night, cool but not really cold. The city lights banished the darkness in the clear sky.

Charlie knew Phoebe was out there somewhere, if she was even still alive. Sick to her stomach, Charlie remembered the dream she had just had. It had been so incredibly real. She was locked in a tiny room. For some reason she was forcing herself to lie utterly still. Somehow she knew she was only safe if she could stay deathly still. There were no windows. No air. He was watching her. She knew he was close. He was going to kill her, but first he would play with her.

Charlie’s chest felt so tight she wondered if her heart was failing. Suddenly she felt intense nausea and struggled not to vomit.

*****

Sally went into the station at 0500 hours. Phillips arrived shortly after her. To their surprise, the Inspector was already there.

“Get in here Middleton,” he yelled at her from his office. “You too, Phillips,” he added.

“Sir?” Sally said, standing in front of his desk. His office was a shambles. It looked like he’d slept on his small sofa last night. On the one hand she admired his persistence and work ethic. On the other hand she knew he would be even more of a bastard if he were tired.

“Middleton, we’ve found absolutely nothing so far. We’ve been at it all night and she’s still out there. She could be dead,” he said, clearly upset.

Sally never expected to see a compassionate side to him.

Tentatively, she offered, “You’ve been working very hard, sir. You must be exhausted.”

He blustered, “Never mind me, Middleton. We’re running out of time! None of the other leads are panning out. I was certain we’d have something by now. We all know this prick is capable of anything. Tell me again where you and Phillips are at. I’m willing to clutch at any straw at all at this point.” He rubbed his tired eyes and took a sip of what looked like cold coffee.

Sally could see the desperation etched on his face. She wondered if people would hate him so much if they got the chance to see this side of him.
Then again, he usually pisses people off within moments of meeting them, so perhaps they wouldn’t care even if they did see his true nature
, she thought.

She told him about the mysterious Morrow. She was honest about her gut feelings, that something wasn’t right. That it wasn’t all just because Morrow was buying his steroids from Henri Sanchez. After listening carefully, he asked them to keep following it up. She explained that they were at a dead end for the moment. They needed to either stake out the gym or wait for Everett to call Phillips.

“What time does the gym open?”

“0600, sir,” she replied.

“Stake the place out from when it opens. The moment you see that Nissan show up, bring him in. Find a vehicle defect if you have to. Find a knife on him. Anything. I don’t care what you arrest him for, just do it.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said.

*****

Charlie couldn’t sleep again. She spent the rest of the night flicking through TV channels restlessly, unsuccessfully trying to distract herself from her fear and pain over Phoebe’s disappearance. As soon as was remotely decent, she called Roman. He answered in the first ring, hoping for news.

“Sorry, I’ve got nothing new. As soon as I do, I’ll let you know,” she said.

He sounded almost incoherent with grief. They spoke only for a few moments. He was anxious to get off his phone in case it rang with news of Mark. She was extremely glad he didn’t yet know she’d gotten Darren to tell police that Mark was an IT expert. She would deal with that later if it came up. She felt strongly that it had been the right thing to do, but it hadn’t made any difference anyway. The police were always going to regard Mark as a firm suspect from the moment he was missing. He was muscular, and unlike Phoebe, his mobile telephone, wallet and keys had not been left behind.