The Family Cleaner, page 10
He scratched around in the kitchen put some coffee on and re-entered the lounge room.
Frank eyed the visitors from the corner, his teeth exposed just a little.
“Looks like my dog doesn’t like you, Prosser.”
Prosser stood, arms folded across his chest, hugging his notebook. “Where have you been?”
“Went bush for a while. Did some surfing. Needed to chill.”
“One of your cousins has gone missing. No one has seen him for over a week. Completely disappeared, no trace of him or his vehicle.”
David shrugged and went back to the kitchen, returning with three mugs and a pot.
He offered them coffee but they declined. “Okay, more for me. Head’s killing me.”
“Don’t you even want to know which one?” Prosser asked.
“Okay, which one.”
“Your cousin Freddy.”
“Freddy is a moron.”
“We’ve left you countless messages. Generally, when the police leave a message, people call back. We even sent a car down here a few times.”
“I wasn’t aware I was on a leash, Detective. Sometimes I like to get away and turn off the phone. Just me and Frank and off we go.”
“Two weeks ago your dog was at your mate Pete’s place,” Prosser said.
Fuck!
“I asked Pete to mind him ’cause I was going to be in some national parks and they get a bit antsy with dogs.”
“Where did you go?” Prosser pressed.
David shrugged. “All over. Up the coast, into the bush. I love it in the bush.”
“Let us know when you’re next going away. I insist.”
“You can insist all you like, but unless I’m being charged with something I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you anything about my movements.”
“Let me be absolutely clear, David. Your cousin went missing at the same time your movements are unaccounted for. This comes on top of your other family—”
“Not my family.”
Prosser sighed. “Your other relatives have also gone missing. Happy? No one can confirm your whereabouts during either of those events. Don’t start getting cute with me. Are we clear?”
“You know when the Bendigo lot went missing, do you?” David said.
“We know when they were there, we know when they weren’t. In between is still a mystery. The fact remains, you haven’t accounted to us for any of that time.”
“If you’re asking for my whereabouts from months ago, good luck with that. Anyway, why this renewed interest in me? Has that bloody Bendigo cop fingered me ’cause he looked at my psych’s records?”
Prosser looked confused. “What are talking about?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“I have no idea what you mean. We were asked to check where you’ve been for the past few weeks and that’s why we’re here.”
“Then tell the Bendigo cops I’ve been up the coast. I guess a few people could confirm that, provided you can give me a good reason why I should tell you anything.”
“I need a list of places. And that isn’t a request, it’s a requirement. If you have nothing to hide it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You think I’ll rise to that bait? You must think I am an idiot.”
“Just give us your location each day for the past four weeks.”
“Why is that anyone’s business?”
“We are investigating a potential serious crime. Where you have been during the past four weeks is absolutely my business.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do for you. So, if we’re done, I have stuff to do.”
David stood, indicating that the conversation was over.
Fairhaven, 25th April 2018
David sipped his coffee and scrolled through The Age online. It covered the Chisholm’s story, saying that due to developments in Canberra the cases were still being treated as missing persons.
“They’re missing alright, Frankie,” he said.
David had doubled his vigilance as he moved product and cash, unconvinced that the police weren’t following him. Cash was again an issue, and he was conscious he had five hundred thousand in a wall cavity in his back room.
He checked his email, and one stood out. It was a newsletter from the Afghanistan Veterans support group. The lead item said that Lieutenant Brown was organising for his squad to have a reunion in Brisbane. Afghanistan seemed like a lifetime ago now, but his hatred of Brown burned like it was yesterday. David felt the familiar sensations, but he concentrated and breathed them away. It was easier each time.
Fucking Brown.
“Jake’s in Queensland, Frank,” he said, stroking him under the chin. “Two birds with one stone, maybe. I’ll give him a reunion that will last forever.”
Chapter 11
The next morning, David woke to Frank whining at the front door. He wandered, bleary-eyed, from the bedroom and bent to ruffle his ears.
“What’s up, boy?”
He pulled aside the curtain next to the front door. Three police units were parked outside his house and DS Prosser was heading up the driveway.
“Looks like they’re getting serious, Frank.”
His stomach clenched and he sensed the familiar whump, whump, whump in his head. He leaned against the inside of the door and breathed quietly.
Thump, thump, thump. This time it was the detective banging on the door. He took a deep breath and opened it and stood with one hand on the frame and one holding the door.
“David Carter!” Prosser said.
“You know who I am, Detective. What’s this about?”
“We have a search warrant for your house concerning the matter of your missing relatives.”
“Do you think I have them tucked away under the floorboards? You wanker.” He said and flung the door wide open.
Prosser entered with five others, each ceremoniously pulling on blue forensic gloves. Prosser, apparently for added effect, pulled the top of one glove and let it snap back onto his wrist with a thwack.
“And we want access to your laptop as well.”
David pointed to the table where his laptop sat opened. “Password is ‘Frank2015’, capital F.”
David took Frank’s leash from the hook by the front door. “C’mon, boy, let’s go to the beach. Lock up when you leave,” he said to Prosser.
Frank barked excitedly at the mention of the word “beach” and darted out through the front door.
“Hey you need to stay,” Prosser yelled out as David left.
“No I don’t,” he called back and headed towards his ute.
Just as well I shifted all that cash last week. Would have been hard to explain.
“He hasn’t changed. When I was here with SC Smedhurst before I transferred in with you, he was just as off-hand,” Constable James said.
“Yes he’s odd but there’s something else, I can’t put my finger on it,” Prosser said. “He’s super confident about us not finding anything here. I bet London to a brick he’s got another place or two he hides his secrets, ’cause believe me, he’s got some. He must have some.”
“Why do you say that boss?”
“New ute, house tricked up within an inch of its life, big-arsed TV, security system like Fort Knox. He doesn’t seem to work much. How do you do that on an army pension? No, there’s something off with this guy. We need the forensic bean counters to sniff around and see if we can find out where he gets his money.”
“Did you ever find out what that business was with his psych records?”
“No, but I’ll call Brownsill. He might know something he isn’t sharing. Meantime, go through this place with a fine-tooth comb. If there’s something here, I want it. And get this laptop to forensics asap.”
David watched the evening news with Frank assuming his usual position, head resting across his thigh.
The reporter, rugged up against the chilly weather reminded her audience about the missing Chisholm Family and then said, “We’re camped outside Jessica Chisholm’s property in Balmain but have been unable to get any comment from her regarding her missing family members. It’s been four months since her parents and one brother disappeared from their Bendigo farm. And now police have confirmed that another brother has been reported missing.”
The camera panned to the front door of Jessica’s house.
“In charge of the investigation is Detective Sergeant Brownsill from Victoria police. He has advised that they are now working with the ACT police following the disappearance of Frederick Chisholm. Police are appealing for anyone with information to call Crime Stoppers.’
Jessica cracked open the door and peered out. She turned and said something to someone behind her, stepped out of the door and down the five steps to street level. Surrounded by the gaggle of reporters she appeared annoyed but not flustered. She took two or three strides down the street then hesitated and turned back to the reporters, who had scurried after her.
“Jessica, anything to say about your missing family?” A reporter asked.
She sighed. “My family and I are estranged and have been for many years. Of course, I, along with the police, wonder where they might be. I have complete faith that the police are doing all they can to find them.”
The rest of their questions went unanswered as she turned away, took another two steps and opened the door to a Porsche Boxster. She waved them out of her way and accelerated away. David chuckled to himself. “You’re a funny one, Jess.”
Frank looked at David and then plopped his head between his paws.
“We’re crossing now to our reporter in Blackwater, Queensland, who is with Jessica’s brother, Jake.”
The station cut to a reporter shoving a microphone in Jake’s face.
“Mr Chisholm, have police been able to shed any light on the disappearance of your family?”
Jake appeared to be enjoying the notoriety.
David felt a rush of anger and didn’t need to hear what Jake said.
“Fat fucker,” he yelled at the TV.
David changed the channel, lit a reefer, and watched a re-run of Grand Designs while he finished a couple of beers.
Police Video Conference, 29th April 2018
“Morning, John,” Brownsill said at the beginning of the video call. “What did you get?”
“Nothing, his place was clean. And I don’t mean clean as in we didn’t find anything. He’s a clean freak. For a single bloke, the place was pristine, even his bed was made and we got him first thing in the morning! Do any of you know a guy who first thing he does in the morning is make his bed?”
“Not sure making your bed is necessarily a pointer to criminality John,” Brownsill said.
“Fair enough but you know what I mean. Anyway, in my view, he seems to have a double life. The one who runs around cutting lawns and some other person who every bone in my body is telling me is up to no good,” Prosser replied.
“We’ve hit a dead end, too. I don’t think the bikers had anything to do with the disappearances. We know the mother knifed him, but he swears they were alive when he left them. Once he got the vehicle papers signed, he left.”
“What’s your next step?”
“Pinning Carter down. He’s our best bet right now.”
“So, no movement on their bank accounts?” Prosser said.
“No.”
“You know that usually means they aren’t just missing.”
“I know John, I know. But I’m not sure what to do next.”
Fairhaven, 5th May 2018
David called Pav’s mobile a few times during the day, with no luck. If Pav was on a round-up or checking fences there would be no signal and it might be days before he would get a call back.
He tried Pav one more time then called the station, his last resort.
After the briefest of conversations with Helen Wiseman, the wife of the station manager, Bert, David in frustration at her prevarication, yelled, “Just ask Pav to call me!”. Bert managed the cattle station where he had spent three tough years. His uncle had lied about his age, claiming he was seventeen when he was apprenticed onto the Wiseman’s property near Westonia, about three hundred kilometres east of Perth. It was on that property that he completed his schooling to year ten, learned to ride a Yamaha trail bike and shoot.
Helen was a carbon copy of his aunt. Gaunt, dry skin stretched across a narrow face and grey wispy hair that refused to stay tied in a bun. More than that she was also, as far as David was concerned, a complete bitch.
Bert was not unlike his Uncle Graham, a hard man who just wanted to do his job and keep away from his wife. This was just as well because when Bert and Helen were near each other, Helen usually came off second best.
He also made his only real friend, Pav, a huge Croatian who could have been in the front row of any Rugby Union team. His size was intimidating, but he was a gentle giant until riled. When he smiled, the soft blue eyes that shone out from under his heavy brow meant you didn’t focus on the long scar that ran from just under his right ear and across his cheek. He watched over David from when he arrived till the day he left. In between these times, among the many adventures they shared, David saved his life. An act that Pav said he would never forget.
It was based on this relationship, that David left the message for Pav to call him.
“Pav, how are you?” David said when Pav called two days later.
“Nothing change, Boss angry. Missus Helen mean and angry. So same, David. Long time since we talk.”
“How’s the leg?”
“Good David, Bert paid for therapist after you left. Very nice lady.”
“Well, so he should. You could have died according to the flying doctor people.”
“That’s down to you David. You saved my life. I never forget.”
“All I did was make sure that old bastard Bert did the right thing.”
“More than that, you know that.”
“Anyway, all’s well that ends well, as they say,” David said.
“What with you, David?”
“I need a big favour. Two in fact.”
“Anything, David, what you want me do?”
“Is there someone you can trust who wants a week’s holiday in Brisbane?”
“Me!”
“No, not you, I need you for something else.”
“I have guy in Kalgoorlie,” Pav said.
David outlined what he needed and promised them five thousand dollars each.
“David, no need to pay. I do it for you.”
“Please, Pav, I want to pay you. Send it home to your sister if you don’t need it. But I need you to be me for that week. I need to be somewhere else.”
“Okay, David. How?”
“At midday next Tuesday I’ll meet you and your mate at Perth Airport in the Avis car park. Okay?”
“Da.”
They ended the call and David booked a return flight to Perth and a hire car in his name with his credit card. He then booked a return flight from Perth to Brisbane using a credit card in the name of Tim Mathieson, leaving after he arrived in Perth and returning the day before his Melbourne return date. He then booked a return flight in the name of Jamie Scott from Perth to Rockhampton.
He retrieved the Beretta and silencer from Ivy’s shed and posted it express post to the hotel in Rockhampton he had selected and marked it “For Collection”.
David retrieved a new burner and scoured Instagram and Facebook for clues on Lieutenant Brown. He was sure a ‘peacock’ like Brown would be all over social media. He was correct.
Brown was now head of security for Mincorp, a mining company headquartered in Brisbane.
David contemplated telling Prosser he was going away but then dismissed the idea. Bugger them, they can sweat it.
He dropped Frank off with Pete, explaining that he was going to Perth for ten days. At the airport, he made sure that he was seen on CCTV and that the Qantas crew would remember him for being difficult about his seat and his meal.
After landing in Perth, he changed his mind about which vehicle he wanted and made sure the Avis people knew that he was heading for Margaret River.
As he walked towards the Avis car park David recognised the back of Pav.
“Hiya, big man,” David said and grabbed him in a bear hug before he could turn around, then released him. Pav spun around and they hugged. Pav ruffled David’s hair as he did so.
Pav introduced David to his mate Tony and all three headed into the domestic terminal and stopped just on the land side of the security gates.
“Tony, I need you to be a guy called Tim Mathieson. Don’t make a nuisance of yourself, but it doesn’t matter if you’re seen. Use this credit card and this pin.”
David and Pav watched him go through the security check and the newly minted Tim Mathieson left for his flight to Brisbane.
“Is he okay?” David asked.
“Da, Tony know what you want.”
He gave Pav a bag containing a jacket and cap identical to his own and handed him his phone. “Leave this on, don’t answer it and don’t use it. Turn your phone off and remove the SIM till you see me next. No speeding, no parking fines, nothing, okay? And keep your head down if you see CCTV. Use this credit card, the pin’s on this.” He said and handed over a small piece of paper.
“Do you need to know what I’m up to, Pav?”
“You ask for favour, I do favour. No questions.”
Pav left in the Avis car for Margaret River. David changed his jacket, trousers, and cap, and went to the Virgin departure lounge. The small lounge was wall-to-wall hi-vis vests and people looking at their phones.
Once on the plane, David took his seat on the aisle, hoping there was no one on the window side. Just before they closed the door, a large bear of a man lumbered through, high-fiving friends as he headed towards David.
Please don’t be next to me.
He quietly groaned as the newcomer said, “’Scuse me, mate, that’s my seat.” The bear settled in and held out his hand. “G’day. Fred Burrows.”
