The Stalking of Louise Copperfield

by Robert W Fisk

  “Chadwick,” said the tall grey man with the solid handshake. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Copperfield, Frank Copperfield,” said Frank. “I was in Australia when I saw the news about the houses and the shopping mall I built.”

  “Ah, yes. Mr Copperfield. I’m Chadwick. A tragedy,” said Chadwick. “I didn't expect you to return so quickly. I am certain it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I can't understand what happened,” said Frank. Then realising that his focus should be on the victims not on excusing himself, he added, “Finding out why the place collapsed is important, but more so is the terrible tragedy. I would like to arrange, through you, a public relations session where I can apologise for the loss and injury suffered by the families involved and answer some of your questions.”

  “I will do that”, said Inspector Chadwick. “About the construction. I will be blunt. You will face charges if you did not comply with the Council’s specifications. You may face criminal charges if Mr Jones’s allegations of fraudulent replacement of the specifications prove to be correct. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” said Frank. “First, I need to check the paperwork, the plans and specifications and the worksheets of my men.”

  “You're going to need police protection,” said Chadwick. “A lynch mob is after you and Mr Larcombe.”

  “I don't know where Larcombe is,” said Frank. “I can only speak for myself. Yes, I would like some protection. I feel I built well on a difficult site.”

  Chadwick made no comment. “Please give me your passport. Keep me informed as to your whereabouts,” he said.

  Chadwick smelled a rat. He had been around criminals long enough to sense when something was being hidden. Chadwick decided to appear affable and helpful and offer a police escort. By supplying protection he was going to keep Frank close when the time came to arrest him.

  “About an escort. Smith. I'll give you Smith. Actually, I think his wife knows your wife. Jayne Hyslop?”

  “Can't say I've heard that name,” said Frank. “My wife and I have broken up. I’ve got a new lady now.”

  Chadwick knew who Frank’s new partner was, Charlotte Hoar, but he said nothing.

  “As well as my partner, I have a housekeeper, June Libold. I hope she’s got my son Alec in a safe place. My housekeeper is a middle aged lady who got divorced from her drug dealing husband. She is trying to make a new life for herself and lives in fear that her husband will be released on parole from his seven year sentence. She needs enough money for a new life in Australia, where he won’t find her.”

  Chadwick picked up on Frank’s covering his arrangements for custody of the child. It was the least of the Inspector’s worries but might explain why he felt uneasy about Copperfield.

  “I'll assign them both for a few days, plus a third officer to make twenty four hours protection. You should be out of trouble or in gaol by then,” said Chadwick.

  Frank was not sure if the man was serious or if he was joking. Chadwick continued. “Detective Constable Hyslop is already working on the murder of Mr Goran Moravec. It is possible Moravec was mistaken for your wife’s new partner, Mr Nigel Jones the Town Planner. She is just back from Christchurch while he is about to board a plane for the States.”

  Frank’s blood ran cold. That was the first Frank had heard about Nigel Jones. When Larcombe had told Frank that the clean-up had been successful he thought that Nigel Jones had died. Jones alive was a frightening prospect.

  Inspector Chadwick picked up the phone and asked the Desk Sergeant for DCs Jayne Hyslop, Hans Zimmerman and PC Bernard Smith. While waiting for them to arrive, he quizzed Frank about the project, the houses and Larcombe.

  “Built to specification, you say?” said Chadwick. “I would like to see those papers. If you did build to specification then clearly the Town Planner and his department are responsible for allowing both projects to go ahead. But didn't Mr Jones complain in the Wahanui Times that he had asked the Council for work to stop work on the housing development and to close the mall before an accident happened?”

  Again, Frank’s blood chilled with Chadwick’s announcement. His consternation was clearly read by the Inspector.

  “I can only work from what's been approved,” said Frank. “I submit my plans and specs and they come back altered, usually, or in rare cases, approved. I had to make several variations to the original plans, which came from Germany.”

  Detective Constables Jayne Hyslop and Bernard Smith and Hans Zimmerman arrived at the door. Chadwick introduced them to Frank.

  “Three of you are on guard in eight hour shifts,” said Chadwick. “Bernard and you, Jayne, and you Hans. Arrange it so you all get sixteen hours off, with eight overlapping hours for Bernard and Jayne.”

  Inspector Chadwick left the interview room. Frank was faced with the three detectives. Hans was tall and thin and very white faced. Hans was wearing civilian clothes, a bomber jacket in a grey cotton material, an expensive textured shirt with button down collars, and grey chinos. He looked as if he was sharp; Frank would have to be careful with him.

  If he had not known that Bernard and Jayne were married he would not have guessed. Jayne looked pale but her blue eyes were sharp and focused. She looked like a fox terrier that would stay on the rabbit’s trail until the rabbit got caught.

  Frank had known Constable Smith earlier as a fine rugby player and as a sensible constable. He guessed Bernard was junior to the other two.

  Hans started. “Mr Copperfield, have you had any overt threats following the collapse of the shopping mall with subsequent deaths and injuries?”

  “No,” said Frank. “But the Press is looking for blood. I have to go to the sites to see exactly what happened there, and then I have to go to the office and check the papers to ensure my firm did all the right things.”

  “What about Mr Jones?” asked Jayne. “You realise that we are investigating the link between your firm and a probable attempt on his life?”

  Frank gave an involuntary shudder. He really hoped that Larcombe had covered their tracks.

  “and,” continued Hans Zimmerman, “that links us to Miss Hoar, who was Mr Jones's partner and then yours. You realise that we will have to get quite personal even though our prime function is your health and safety?”

  Frank felt the net slowly closing around him. He saw Inspector Chadwick in a new light. Chadwick had outsmarted him; Frank had agreed to have a series of detectives protecting him but they were also investigating him. He could not pull out because that would breed suspicion.

  He was not sure what Larcombe had ordered the men to do but he himself had asked Larcombe to get rid of Louise. Charlotte knew nothing about the papers, and even less about Larcombe. The police had made a connection between a dead man and Nigel Jones. Would they make the connection between Nigel Jones and Larcombe? And if Louise also died, would they link her death with him?

  Suddenly ordering Louise’s death did not seem like such a good idea.

  CHAPTER 82.

  Nigel had a nagging feeling that the murder of Goran Moravec had been a mistake, that he was the target He had frequently thought of old George Hamilton, the harmless retired school principal who had been murdered when he tried to show that the Wahanui Council was corrupt. Nigel had been part of that culture of corruption by facilitating the applications of people whom he had thought were friends. He supposed that thought would haunt him till the end of his days.

  It seemed likely that whoever had killed Hamilton would also kill him in order to remove the threat posed by Nigel’s threat to publish the original plans and specifications approved for the Huatere developments, papers that clearly showed corruption within the Wahanui Council and fraud and public endangerment on the part of Frank Copperfield and Stuart Larcombe.

  Even worse was the slowly dawning realisation that whoever wanted him dead was motivated by his papers, the ones that would send Larcombe and Copperfield to gaol and cause the retirement of some elected Councillors
. Those papers were with Louise. Nigel might have signed her death warrant when he asked her to look after his papers. As his moment of sheer panic lessened and he felt he could breathe again, Nigel considered his options.

  Louise seldom had her mobile phone turned on. In any case, communications to Wahanui were down completely. He could go to the police in Christchurch. They must have radio contact with Wahanui and could arrange some kind of protection for Louise. But at this point in time, protecting a woman on the basis of a man’s fear would not be a high priority for the police. They would be fully stretched dealing with the results of the Deluge.

  Nor could he fly to Wahanui. Just to make sure, he checked with his mobile phone. There were no more flights to Wahanui that day. The last plane had flown on the day before and service was not expected to resume until the following day. He did not know that Louise’s husband, estranged husband, Frank had been on that flight.

  Nigel checked the Automobile Association website. The road north from Christchurch had stoppages and major delays but was open intermittently. In places traffic had been held up overnight. Drivers were warned to take the road only in the most urgent circumstances.

  Nigel’s fear was now overwhelming. He felt that he had to get to Louise before night time. It was unlikely an attempt would be made on her life in broad daylight. Given the strength and the skill to complete the drive to Wahanui, plus an enormous amount of good luck, he could make the trip by nightfall. He rang a rental car company at the airport.

  “Is that Hertz?” he asked his phone.

  “Yes it is. How can I help you?”

  The woman’s voice had a North American ring to it, as did many young Kiwi voices whose owners were swamped by programmes emanating from the USA.

  “I need a rental car.”

  “That’s what we do, sir,” said the voice. “But the storm makes driving dangerous. If you are not going far, I could let you have a four wheel drive, perhaps a Prado.”

  Nigel intended going further than the local shops and some sightseeing around Christchurch but he said nothing about his plans.

  “Can a Prado handle the flooding I might encounter, and perhaps some parts of the road that might have broken up a bit?” he asked.

  “Sure can,” said the woman, whose voice was beginning to grate with Nigel because of its falsity. “If you tell me where you are staying, I can have the car delivered to you and you can pay and sign the paperwork without needing to come out to the airport.”

  “I’m at the airport now,” said Nigel. “at the Airport Ajax Motel. Where is your counter located?”

  The Prado was a large and powerful vehicle. Nigel signed the papers, but he did not have a driving licence. He produced his British passport and the note that the police had made for insurance purposes. It listed his driving licence as stolen. The woman photocopied the letter and filled the licence number in on the form. After that he was allowed to hire the car.

  The day was filthy. The torrential rain had lessened a little but police were still advising people to use the roads only if they had urgent business, and to take all care. What was more urgent business than returning to Louise?

  With no power in the Finisterre district, there was no cellphone coverage. Nigel tried again to contact Louise several times with no success. He decided to drive on.

  In normal bad weather Nigel would face a four hour drive through difficult mountain terrain. The roads were awash and the radio warned of landslips en route but if he took his time and drove carefully, he should make it to Wahanui in due course.

  CHAPTER 83.

  Although by Sunday the ferocity of the storm had lessened the weather was still very bad, forcing people to avoid going out and instead stay at home. Two years’ worth of rain had fallen in fourteen hours and six months rain since then. Most shops would have been closed in any event but on that awful Sunday even the supermarkets were closed. Some churches opened but few made the journey to pray.

  Late on the Sunday afternoon, with the rain still falling heavily, Charlotte walked past Louise’s house. The day was dark, visibility was low due to the curtain of rain, and the wind kept gusting in a repetitive howling complaint. With such reduced visibility, Charlotte used the main gate to enter the property. She walked down the path to the garden bed where the key to the house was hidden under a large stone. It was flooded with water, making Charlotte have to fumble under the stone and feel for the key in the muddy water. She opened the front door and slipped inside the hallway. Charlotte was worried about dripping water on the carpet so she slipped off her parka and draped it over an umbrella stand. She removed her shoes and walked in bare feet through the house. It was neat and tidy, with no clutter and no old magazines or newspapers left out for later reading.

  Charlotte tried a light switch but there was no power in the house; in fact, there was no power to Finisterre. She did not need lights at the moment but might this evening when she returned. She made her way to Louise’s bedroom. It was strange being in a house that had recently had a busy family and now had just one person. The other bedrooms had an unoccupied feeling, only Louise’s having a feminine scent and human warmth.

  Charlotte looked for signs of Nigel. She did not find any, which she thought was strange as he had been living with Louise, certainly over the past couple of weeks, ever since his fatal speech at the Council meeting.

  Charlotte pulled open the top drawer of the bedside cabinet. At first she did not find what she was looking for. Although the batteries of her old-fashioned flashlight were fading and the light was going a little yellow, she turned it on so that she could see more clearly what was in the drawer. She was looking for pills. Not just any pills, but a doctor’s prescription for calming the nerves and inducing sleep. She found a bottle labelled ‘Alprazolam (tranquiliser)’ in the bathroom cabinet, which was otherwise empty apart from some aspirin and Mydol.

  The label on the bottle read, ‘Take one to four tablets at bed time.’ Perfect. Charlotte tipped out the Alprazolam and flushed them down the toilet, replacing them with pills she took from a phial in her shirt pocket. She put the small bottle beside the bed.

  She needed to have Louise sedated. She had intended to put Valium beside the bed in the phial she had brought from her father’s animal surgery but placing it in Louise’s regular container was even better. Satisfied, Charlotte retraced her steps. It was five thirty in the afternoon but already the day was darkening as the rain continued to fall.

  Louise returned home shortly after Charlotte had left. She had not wanted to venture out on a rescue call but had been worried that the young woman might harm herself if she did not receive help. Father Larkin had offered to take her to the house but instead she picked him up on the way using her own car. The situation they faced was classic. The woman had decided to leave home, taking the children with her while her husband was on one of the fishing boats. Because of the storm the boat did not leave harbour and the man returned to find his wife leaving him, with her goods and the three children in the station wagon, ready to go. She managed to phone Father Larkin, who called Louise.

  Having been divorced and then living in a failed marriage she spoke to the couple with authority. Together they convinced the woman to unpack and care for the children and persuaded the man to stay in a motel until the four of them could meet on Tuesday when the children were back at school.

  Although Louise was exhausted she was pleased to have been of use. She prepared a light meal by the light of a lantern then read for a short time until her eyes began to water. Although it was early for her to go to bed, she knew that she needed the rest. She took four Alprazolam tablets to relax her mind. As darkness fell, Louise turned off the lamp, slipped into bed and fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 84.

  It had been an awful drive. At one time the Prado had been stopped for an hour and thirty minutes in a long line of traffic waiting for a landslip to be cleared. More slips along the way caused further delays. One stretch of road hundreds of feet
above the raging river required cars to progress in single file, one car at a time, first the oncoming stream and then the ongoing stream of cars. Nigel heard on the radio that soon after he had barely scraped through a section of road it had been closed for the night.

  There were long delays where bridges had to be crossed one car at a time. Nigel was utterly exhausted but he persevered, driven by the fear that he had placed Louise in danger. The black storm clouds and abysmal weather reinforced his apprehension. Nigel just knew that he had to get to Louise before something dreadful happened.

  Night was falling. Long fingers of grey touched the hills and gullies as he sped along the valley floor following the course of the river on his right. Nigel’s eyes were heavy. He thought he would have to stop and take a break or he might run off the road. Now he was close to Wahanui there was southbound traffic, mainly heavy trucks loaded with cattle and sheep escaping from the flooded pastures of Wahanui.

  A semitrailer hurtled out of the gloom toward him. Nigel pulled hard on the wheel to avoid a collision. The lights of the truck temporarily blinded him. The car skidded to the right, towards the river. The truck came on like a locomotive, relentless and huge. With a bang the truck hit the Prado and spun it round and round. The airbags and side curtains exploded as the Prado plunged over the road edge and down into the raging flooded river.

  CHAPTER 85.

  Charlotte returned to the rented house she shared with Frank. The driving was difficult so Charlotte put the four wheel drive into low and drove very slowly. The big vehicle mastered the surface water quite easily until Charlotte felt it slip and slide as it tried to grip a broken and slippery surface under the water where the road had dissolved in the wet. Although it was not a long drive Charlotte was tired after concentrating so hard. Charlotte spent some time with Alexander to allow June Libold some space as she packed her bag. While it was still light June left to visit her family.