The Charlton Affair (31 page)

When her breathing settled, she sat up and turned on the night lamp. The clock on her bedside table read 3 AM. The movement made her neck twinge in pain, prompting her to remember why it hurt. As she relived the sensation of Stillman’s meaty paws around her neck, ever tightening, the contents of her dream came flooding into her consciousness.

More a nightmare than a dream, she was being chased by Stillman and even worse, also by Michael, only Michael was clearly dead. He lumbered after her, zombie-like, his neck covered in bruises just like hers. The brothers chased her to a precipice. She either had to face them or jump off. She jumped. The sheer terror of the falling sensation had awoken her. Shuddering, she rose and made her way to the kitchen. There would be no more sleep for her. She wouldn’t risk another nightmare like that one.

She was sipping a freshly brewed coffee, sitting on Roman’s lounge and reflecting on the shambles her life had become when soft clicking noises caught her attention. She anxiously looked up and was relieved to see Leo padding toward her, his claws clacking lightly against the tiled floor. Every little noise caused her to react nervously now. She wondered if she would ever truly be able to relax again.

Leo joined her on the lounge. Curling up against her, he rested his massive head in her lap before going back to canine slumber. She stroked his fur, grateful for the feeling of safety she found in his company. She heard another set of footfalls. This time it was Roman.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked her.

She nodded gloomily.

“Me too,” he said as he helped himself to some freshly brewed coffee.

He sat down next to her. Leo raised his head briefly and looked at Roman before replacing it in Phoebe’s lap.

Roman harrumphed, “No loyalty! I walk him and feed him and he prefers you! Men are all the same,” he said, trying to make Phoebe smile at his faux indignation.

She smiled weakly.

“What’s on your mind, sweets?”

Sighing sadly, Phoebe replied, “I keep having nightmares. I can’t relax.”

“I’m sure that’s completely normal. I know you won’t speak to a counselor about it, but what about a psychiatrist?”

She shivered in revulsion.

“OK. Maybe not,” he commented. Taking a different tack, he asked, “Have you spoken to Charlie about it?”

She shook her head.

He waited for her to say more.

After a moment, she admitted, “It’s so hard. I want to be with her, to tell her all of the rotten things in my head, but I just can’t.”

Roman nodded sympathetically, but she could see the question in his eyes.

Blushing mildly, Phoebe revealed her feelings, “I actually want…much more than that. I want it so badly, but it feels…wrong. She’s not pushing me for anything and that only makes me feel even worse.”

Phoebe’s shoulders slumped in misery but she was grateful for the love and sympathy that suffused Roman’s tired face.

“It’s stupid, but I feel like I’m forgetting Michael, like I’m somehow not doing the right thing every time I even think about getting close to Charlie.”

Tortured by confusion and pain, Phoebe disclosed in a tiny voice, “His dead body chases me in my dreams.”

Roman shivered in horror and put his arm around her. Pulling her close in a protective hug he asked quietly, “Do you still love him?”

“No. It’s not that,” Phoebe explained, “He gave his life to try to save me. He never had a chance against that monster. But he did it anyway. I just can’t relax until I have him back from that cold horrible place where they’re keeping him. I can’t get the thought of him lying there out of my head. He lost everyone who ever loved him, except me. He died tried trying to keep me. I know it doesn’t make sense but I don’t want him to lose me, too,” she sobbed.

Roman held her tightly and rubbed her back as she cried, his tears joining hers.

“I need to make it right for him. Give him a proper goodbye. It’s the only thing left I can do for him,” she whispered as she wept.

*****

Charlie’s trial had been cancelled that morning when her client had decided to plead guilty to a lesser offence rather than face a judge and jury. Now she was free for the rest of the day and she fully intended to spend it with Phoebe. She knew exactly where Phoebe would be at this time of day. Once again Charlie navigated her way through the hospital corridors to the ward where Mark’s bed was. The sprawling hospital had become familiar territory to her.

She ducked her head around the doorway of Mark’s room and knocked politely before entering. Phoebe sat with him. Usually Roman was there too, but he had returned to work recently, albeit with reduced hours. The firm was unhappy to have two partners away and had pressured Roman to return to work now that Mark had a good prognosis.

They were not pressuring Phoebe to come back. The publicity around her husband’s death at the hands of his sociopathic brother and her kidnapping had inspired many lurid headlines. Every time Stillman made a court appearance or the police held a press conference, the whole thing was played out again in the news. Stillman’s eventual trial would place Phoebe in the spotlight yet again. The firm had encouraged Phoebe to take a leave of absence until the media frenzy was over.

Phoebe and Mark looked up with welcome eyes as Charlie made her way into the cramped room. Charlie embraced Phoebe warmly. Phoebe smiled, and Charlie was heartened to see sweetness and love spreading across her exquisite features. Charlie melted as she looked adoringly into Phoebe’s sad green eyes. Her closeness to Phoebe aroused fire and longing in Charlie but she knew it was for too soon. Regretfully, she pulled away, allowing Phoebe to resume her seat.

The awful collection of black and blue bruises that still covered Phoebe’s entire throat made Charlie want to cry. For Phoebe’s sake, she swallowed her sadness and smiled instead. She reminded herself how lucky she was to have Phoebe still alive, thanks to Amanda’s bravery.
And Michael’s.
Poor Michael
.

There was so much sadness now. Charlie felt it hanging over them all, even from her place at the periphery of Stillman’s criminal prosecution. She couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be Phoebe, at the very center of the maelstrom. Or Mark, who had been caught up in the tornado. They were frequently held hostage by the incessant media attention. Sometimes, they were unable to leave the house without having to face a gauntlet of reporters.

Charlie looked at Mark and leaned over to touch his arm in greeting, asking him, “How are you today, Mark?”

Mark smiled at her, replying, “A little better. Can’t wait to go home.”

Charlie nodded in sympathy. “How long before they let you go?”

“I’m not sure.” 

He looked worn and tired. And thin. Charlie noticed he was smaller and less muscular now. Poor Mark had been in hospital for over two weeks. His scans were clear, but he still suffered from extreme headaches and tiredness. He would get better with time but his improvement had been frustratingly slow. Charlie couldn’t believe he’d survived the blood loss and dehydration, never mind the head injury. The doctors were amazed too. Stillman had simply thrown him into a container and left him to die, unconscious and bound. Mark had woken up at some stage, he didn’t know when. Charlie knew from Phoebe and Roman that he remembered exactly what it felt like to be unable to escape his approaching death. The despair of the moment he woke, alone and locked in the dark container, unable to cry out or get free would never leave him. Eventually he had passed out again, but only after hours of mental torture and physical pain.

Turning to Phoebe, Charlie asked, “And how are you today, beautiful one?” Charlie reached out to softly brush Phoebe’s cheek, smiling lovingly.

Phoebe returned the smile and the sentiment. Her hand came up to meet and hold Charlie’s. Charlie leaned in and kissed her lightly, not letting go of her hand.

She replied, “A bit better. Mark has been so helpful.”

Charlie couldn’t help noticing the shadowy bruises around Phoebe’s wrist as she held her hand. They were nearly gone, but not quite. Steeling herself against showing her pain and anger, she kissed Phoebe again. Phoebe smiled up at her tenderly before her expression became more serious.

“Mark and I have been talking about it. About him,” Phoebe told her.

Charlie froze and looked at her, a worried expression on her face. She desperately wanted Phoebe to get all the help she could to recover, but it was up to Phoebe to decide what was best. She wished Phoebe would get professional assistance.

Reading her like a book, Phoebe soothed, “I’ll be fine, Charlie. Please don’t worry.” She added, “Mark and I have a lot in common now. We can help each other through this.”

Phoebe took Mark’s hand as if to emphasize her point.

She said firmly, with a determined expression, “I will never see another therapist again as long as I live.”

Mark nodded in agreement and squeezed Phoebe’s hand.

Charlie relaxed. It would take time, but Phoebe had a lot of support.

*****

Phoebe and Charlie sat in Darren’s office. After the greetings were over, Darren said, “I’ve asked you here to speak to you about Michael’s estate, Phoebe.”

Phoebe replied politely, “Thanks Darren.”

Darren proceeded to read out the clauses of Michael’s will slowly and carefully. He dwelled on the explanations Michael had left.

Phoebe sat still afterwards, in shocked silence, tears forming.

After a moment, Darren filled the silence, saying, “Phoebe, this will is dated from a week before the, er…incident. Michael had some difficulties at the time, but he certainly had full capacity to make a will. In any event, I can’t imagine who might challenge it, apart from, er…Stillman. And he couldn’t succeed if he did. There’s a law in Queensland that prohibits people financially benefiting from a crime…”

Phoebe’s tears were flowing steadily now. Darren stopped speaking and tactfully handed her a tissue. Charlie reached over and took her hand, giving Darren a significant look, prompting him to get on with it.

“Yes, well, Michael was very clear about not only wanting you to have everything, including his family fortune, but about wishing for you to use it to benefit yourself in practical ways. He didn’t want you to treat it the same way that he did, by er…ignoring it.”

Charlie asked Darren to explain the process of the administration of the estate to Phoebe, which he did. He made sure Phoebe understood the timeframes involved and he asked her if she wished to obtain her own representative to deal with some of the issues involved, such as dealing with Michael’s superannuation company.

“I can recommend someone for you if you like, or Charlie can?” Darren said gently.

When Phoebe didn’t respond, he offered, “At least you don’t have to worry about the joint properties, they automatically became yours on Michael’s…er…passing. I can give you copies of all the necessary documents now if you like? Then you can proceed to sale if you decide to.”

Phoebe paused, clearly thinking for a moment before saying, “Yes, please. I never want to go to Noosa again and I can’t live at Hamilton.” Phoebe looked faintly sick at the idea.

Darren sorted through his file and buzzed his PA. When she came into the office he handed her a sheaf of documents, including a death certificate and title deeds, “Please copy these for Mrs. Rawlins,” he directed her.

After she left, he said to Phoebe, “Would you like me to recommend a succession practitioner for you?”

“Can I think about it, Darren?” Phoebe responded, “It’s just all a bit of a shock. I hadn’t thought about his will or the estate at all. I’m still trying to get him back from the police so he can be buried…” Phoebe replied, tears brimming again.

Charlie put her arm around her and said, “Take as long as you like to decide what you want to do.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Darren agreed, nodding sympathetically at Phoebe.

He said, “The last thing is the matter of the insurance claim. As Michael’s executor, I’ve taken the liberty of progressing it. There may be some more steps in the process depending on the assessor’s decision making requirements, but I believe you will receive the full five million dollars in due course.”

Darren and Charlie sat silently watching Phoebe for a moment as she tried to absorb the information.

“Thanks, Darren. I appreciate your help.” Phoebe’s expression was sad but grateful.

The meeting over, Phoebe went to Darren’s washroom so she could put some cold water on her face and repair her makeup. Charlie reflected that it was something Phoebe often did these days. She stood with Darren in the foyer, waiting for Phoebe.

“She’s just become an incredibly wealthy woman,” Darren remarked to Charlie, his love of gossip surfacing.

“I’m sure it’ll sink in later on, right now she’s got a lot on her plate.”

Darren’s eyebrows raised in a silent request for more information, his favorite commodity.

“She’s organizing a funeral, albeit without a body yet.”

“Can’t you do that for her?”

“She won’t let me. She’s determined to do what she thinks is right for Michael all on her own.” Charlie shrugged, “So far it seems be helping her to have something to focus on. She’s been so caught up in it and trying get the body from police that she hasn’t thought about much else. It’s good you mentioned the properties, that will give her another task, maybe take her mind off Michael…”