A Proper Charlie

by Louise Wise

  Ben wanted to jump up and down and rage: Yes, now, you moron, but instead smiled and repeated, ‘It’s important.’

  Melvin fixed him with cold eyes. ‘If you’re giving her the brush off at least have the curtsey of doing it to her face.’

  ‘I’m not! Melvin, it’s urgent.’

  ‘Well, it’s going to have to wait until you see her tomorrow at work. We had an argument, and she obviously isn’t answering my calls.’

  ‘Argument?’

  ‘About you.’

  Ben stopped himself from saying: About me? Instead, he leaned across Melvin’s desk, resting on his two fists for support, and said into his face, ‘If you know her so well are you aware of what she was doing for research for her book?’

  Melvin didn’t recline from Ben as he thought he would, and he was duly impressed. ‘Sir, what are you implying?’

  Ben stood upright and raked his hair again. ‘I’m implying nothing. Charlie was pretending to be a prostitute and putting herself in terrible danger –’

  ‘It was only for research so your reputation can rest easy. Besides, all that’s over with now. She has all the material she needs for her book,’ Melvin said, and Ben’s eyes widened in shock.

  ‘You knew and you didn’t think to stop her?’

  ‘I didn’t know until last week.’ Melvin pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘It’s not something I would’ve approved of her doing, but it’s not something other reporters haven’t done in the past.’

  Ben was aware that the news’ editors were in the office, as well as two cleaners who were all turning their attention towards Ben and Melvin.

  ‘She isn’t a reporter, she’s a bloody clerk!’ Ben refrained from grabbing him by the why do weirdos always sit next to me? T-shirt, he turned away instead, linking his hands behind his neck in frustration. He turned back. ‘I’m worried she’s returned to the red-light area. And now the abductor is still at large…’ he left his sentence to trail off.

  Melvin simply stared at him. He shrugged. ‘Why would she? Her research is finished.’ He indicated his computer. ‘I have the chapters of it on here. I’m editing it for her.’

  ‘So where is she? Did she say where she was going?’

  Melvin flapped a hand. ‘I told you. We argued, and she flounced off saying something about finding a real friend. Jan someone or other. She’d have forgotten the argument tomorrow. Charlie never stays angry for long.’

  ‘What do you know about this Jan?’

  ‘Jan?’

  Ben nodded at him. ‘Jan the prostitute she’s befriended, and thinks she can help.’ Finally, Ben watched the penny drop with a ping behind Melvin’s eyes.

  FIFTY

  Charlie was having serious words with herself. She didn’t like the pathetic, spineless person she’d become, and there was no way – no way on this planet, and as long as she had breath left in her body, that she’d allow this despicable man do to her whatever he’d done to the others.

  Oh God, what had he done to them?

  She wouldn’t let on that he frightened the heebie-jeebies out of her, although terrified was a better word, she argued with herself. Or petrified; petrified was good. What was that noise? She glanced at her attacker, but he had his eyes on the road ahead, and then realised the noise was coming from her. She was crying!

  Good God woman, get some backbone! All her life she’d been a non-crier. A tough nobody-can-hurt-me type of person – her own protection from growing up being repeatedly rejected, she supposed.

  She began to move towards her handbag by her feet, but Rick, without looking at her, shoved her in the chest and she fell back in her seat.

  ‘All I w-want is a t-tissue,’ she said.

  Rick took his eyes off the road and glanced at her. After a moment of hesitation he nodded his consent. She continued for her bag and peered inside.

  ‘Don’t think of spraying hairspray in my face,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Or stabbing me with nail scissors, or something. I’ve had them all – and look what happened to the others!’ He laughed and indicated to turn left into a dark street.

  ‘What has happened to them?’ she asked, finding and curling her hand around a silver ballpoint pen in her bag.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

  He’s playing you, you spineless piece of nothing. Do it! Do it, now!

  She tightened her grip, brought her hand out of her bag and in one swift thrust she stabbed Rick in the groin. Ignoring his howl, she lunged across him to grab the keys from the ignition. She couldn’t open the doors without them. But in her panic, she couldn’t twist them to halt the car or pull them out. Below her, the black boots of her attacker stamped in agony.

  She searched the area with her fingers, pulling switches until the car’s window wipers were going full-pelt and the screen wash was activated, blinding Rick to the road ahead. With a curse, he brought his knee up sharply and Charlie spun backwards, hitting the passenger window with the back of her head.

  ‘You bitch!’ Rick yelled. With a look of utter pain on his face, he cupped his groin area with one hand, while the other struggled to regain control of the car.

  Charlie turned and desperately tried to open the door again as Rick strained to recover command of the car as it lurched from one side of the road to the other.

  Frustration made Charlie ball her fists against the window, screaming and yelling for help. Her attacker cursed her, but was helpless, as the car bounced off a kerb and slid into a lamppost.

  *

  Ben ran towards the lift and pressed the ‘down’ arrow. Melvin had followed, but he headed straight for the stairs not bothering with the lift, Ben turned to follow as the ‘ting’ of the lift sounded, he doubled back as Melvin did too. Both tried to enter the lift first, until Ben shoved Melvin backwards, and dived in. Then Melvin somehow made it inside before the lift doors closed.

  Down in the foyer, Melvin followed Ben towards the car park.

  ‘No,’ said Ben. ‘Staying together is futile. We should split up. I’ll head out to all the red-light areas, and you speak to all of her friends.’ He dug in his pocket and brought out a small glossy white business card. ‘Call me on this number if you hear anything.’

  Then Ben left Melvin staring after his red car’s taillights as it disappeared out of the car park.

  Ben rubbed a hand across his face. The knot of fear inside his stomach had twisted until a physical pain gripped him. He forced himself to breathe as he drove, peering out of the window hoping to see Charlie strolling along a pavement somewhere.

  ‘The chances of her being abducted by a lunatic are slim,’ he told himself. ‘She can take care of herself,’ was another mumble. But neither did anything to untie the knots in his belly.

  *

  Melvin hailed a black cab.

  ‘Where to?’ the cabby asked as Melvin climbed in.

  Melvin stared at him in the mirror. ‘Sir, I don’t know. I’m looking for someone.’

  ‘Ain’t we all mate,’ the cabby replied and pulled away from the kerb.

  ‘Sir, go with me on this; if you were the Gentleman Abductor, where would you take your victim?’

  Somehow, Melvin found himself back on the kerbside, and hailing another taxi.

  When he climbed in, he told the driver to head towards the nearest red-light area. Without even as much as a twitch of an eyebrow, the driver headed off in that direction.

  Melvin sat back and took out his phone. He texted everybody he and Charlie knew and told them to look out for her. Immediately his phone rang and Melvin answered to Dean.

  His partner was equally concerned about Charlie, and promised he’d ring around other friends Melvin might have missed. He also told Melvin to look after himself.

  *

  Ben slowed as he passed several call girls. They tried to look in his car, and waved at him. Ben pulled the car over to the kerb and stopped. Immediately a woman came over, and looked in at him as he buzzed the window down.

 
‘I ain’t a hooker no more, mate. I’ve given it up for a life of domestic bliss.’ She laughed to herself, and began to walk away.

  ‘No, I’m looking for someone.’ He dug in his pocket and brought out a twenty-pound note. ‘She has red, long, curly hair, although she could have had it tied back. She’s about five-foot-five, slim –’

  The woman turned and snatched the note. ‘That could be anybody.’

  ‘What’s up?’ Another woman came over. ‘If it’s directions you want then find a bleeding copper!’

  ‘He’s looking for someone,’ the first woman said.

  ‘Aren’t we good enough?’ the second said with a titter.

  Ben, beginning to think asking for their help was pointless, began to close his window.

  ‘Wait,’ said the first woman. ‘Red curly hair?’

  Ben’s heart flipped. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Early to middle twenties?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The woman looked over his car. ‘It’s posh.’ She stared at him. ‘Are you a reporter?’

  ‘I am. But I’m not doing a story,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I’m merely looking for someone. She’s gone missing.’ He’d be lynched for revealing this before it was even in the papers, but he felt he had to. ‘The abductor has struck again.’

  The woman’s eyes widened. ‘But he’s been caught!’

  ‘It’s the wrong man,’ Ben said. ‘So, please, if you know where she is, tell me.’

  ‘You’re talking about Charlie, aren’t you?’ said the woman. ‘I’m Jan, and she’s an OK person.’

  ‘Jan,’ Ben breathed. ‘She’s worried about you,’ he said.

  ‘You’re her reporter colleague,’ she said with a smile. ‘The one we fought over because she thought you were that posh psycho.’

  Ben nodded. ‘That’s Charlie.’

  ‘But I don’t know where she is,’ Jan said, leaving Ben feeling deflated. ‘If she’s still on the streets I’d have seen her. Are you sure she hasn’t gone home?’

  ‘I’ve tried her number several times.’

  ‘Maybe she’s taken it off the hook?’ the other girl said.

  ‘Thanks for your help,’ Ben said, and began to close the window once again. But Jan stuck her hands on the glass and prevented it from closing.

  ‘Hang on, I remember something –’

  ‘What?’ Ben asked impatiently.

  Jan frowned, biting her lip. ‘There mightn’t be anything in it, but I wondered why there were extra coppers out tonight, and –’

  ‘Yes?’ he prompted.

  ‘I heard Rosemary Street being mentioned. I think they were expecting trouble of some sort. As I said, it might be a load of bull…’

  Ben turned his attention towards his sat-nav. He turned it on and pressed a few buttons. He had nothing to lose, and Rosemary Street was as good as any for his search for Charlie.

  ‘Good luck,’ Jan said and moved away from the car.

  ‘Thank you.’ Ben barely glanced up from the tiny screen as it indicated Rosemary Street was eight minutes away. ‘Jan,’ he called from his window. The woman looked over her shoulder. ‘Be careful, better still, go home.’

  ‘I was saying me goodbyes,’ she said. ‘I think Charlie will approve of that.’

  Ben smiled, and then he wound up the window and sped off in the direction of the sat. nav.

  FIFTY ONE

  Melvin walked down Holly Street, his tread light and fast. The street was lined with private businesses – garages, chiropractors and solicitors. All had closed up for the night, and all were in darkness.

  Melvin had a gut feeling – a journalist’s feeling, and one that he couldn’t ignore and it found him in the dark, back streets.

  He’d climbed out of the cab only a moment ago after he realised he hadn’t any money on him. The driver wasn’t pleased, but had ungraciously taken Melvin’s address after he showed him his Core ID, but told him he’d have to vacate the taxi. He didn’t use those exact words, but Melvin preferred to remember a nicer version.

  Melvin stopped and peered into the distance. At the end of the street was a red BMW. The taillights were facing Melvin and they were on. The nose of the car was buried in a flickering lamppost, and the boot lid was raised.

  Melvin stopped outside a garage forecourt and peered through a gap in its dirty double doors. The doors were padlocked, but Melvin jumped and grabbed the top and hurled himself over. Once inside the oily backyard, the security lights blazed and Melvin flattened himself against the garage doors half expecting a snarling Doberman to race around the corner, but nothing happened. There were several cars in the yard, all without tyres. But on the floor, as if discarded, were many mechanics’ tools. Melvin selected a large rusty spanner and a crowbar equally corroded as the other. He poked them down the waistband of his jeans, and hauled himself back over the double doors. He jumped down lightly, looking for the car. It was still there. Charlie was around somewhere; he could feel her presence.

  He never knew why he was able to see through her happy-go-lucky exterior to the insecure and anxious little girl inside, whereas everybody else thought of her with frustration. It was their childhood years spent together in the home, he supposed.

  It had been tough, but more so for Charlie. She lost her mum before she could get to know her and all her foster placements had ended in disaster, and because of that she had been tagged a ‘problem child’, and nobody had wanted to adopt her. At least his parents had loved him and brought him up well until their tragic car accident. He’d arrived at the home confused, angry and grieving. Then a little ginger haired girl had taken his hand and refused to let go.

  His eyes welled at the memory. She was like his flesh and blood and he knew he’d be shattered if anything happened to her.

  Hardly daring to breathe Melvin tiptoed towards the car. On reaching it, he dropped to his knees and crawled around to the front. Then he rose with a yell and opened the driver’s door thrusting the crowbar inside. But the car was empty.

  He went round to the boot, and peered inside. It was empty, but the interior looked scratched and dented as if… Melvin felt sick… as if someone had been trapped inside and had battled to escape. He felt around but it was completely empty.

  Moving back to the front, he threw the crowbar to the front passenger’s seat and climbed in. He was looking for anything that indicated Charlie had been in the car. As children, they’d melodramatically spoken about what they’d do if pirates or something kidnapped them. Melvin had said he would find a way of making it hard for the kidnappers to get away with their crime and they’d childishly spoke of leaving clues for the police. Charlie, being younger, had taken it all too seriously and became afraid and Melvin had got into trouble for scaring her, he remembered. But he hoped now she remembered their childish games.

  With a cry of glee, Melvin picked up a silver pen from behind the brake pedal. On it was a sticker: Melvin’s Pen. If found please mail, if male return in person. It was his very own pen that he’d lent to Charlie a couple of days ago. All of his pens had one of these stickers; at the time he’d thought them hilarious. But now he felt sick, and his victorious cry became a sob.

  The blow to the back of his head sent him across the passenger seat of the car; the second made everything go black.

  FIFTY TWO

  Ben parked at the top of Rosemary Street and climbed out. The street was lined with terrace houses that were mainly private businesses, and he wanted to bang on every door and warn people to the danger of a maniac being close by, but quickly realised that the houses would be empty.

  He walked all the way down the street but wasn’t alerted to anything out of the ordinary. He cursed his own helplessness and then pulled out his mobile to try Charlie’s number again. He’d wished he’d taken Melvin’s number, and hoped the man would call him if he found her. But the way Melvin felt about him that could be unlikely. Charlie’s answer machine kicked it and Ben left yet another message.

  Out of sheer desper
ation, he dialled the local police station and reported her missing. He added that she was following up a story for London Core on prostitutes knowing this information might make the police aware that Charlie was in serious danger and hurry to her rescue.

  Ben replaced his phone in his pocket, ignoring the desk officer that he should call into the station for form filling; instead, he crossed the road to walk up the other side of Rosemary Street.

  A flickering lamppost on another street made him hesitate. He didn’t know why but he felt he had to go and check it out. The lamppost was in Holly Street, and around the light was evidence that something had crashed into it. Glass lay all around, and the concrete post looked scratched and had dark paint transferred from a car of some sort onto it. He couldn’t make out the colour of the paint, and so looked around for any car that had a tell-tale dent, but on this street, it was mostly private businesses and no vehicle was in sight.

  He made his way towards Rosemary Street again and began walking up the path, this time paying attention to all the cars that lined the road. There weren’t many, and Ben found it quickly. The car was a dark red BMW, its bonnet was crumpled and one headlight was missing. The car was locked, and Ben peered through the windows. With a muscle jerking in his cheek, Ben noticed a crow bar on the passenger’s seat.

  The noise was so ordinary that Ben almost dismissed it; faint music came from behind a door of a building with the plaque Pollenger’s & Son Business Rescue & Insolvency. He went over and pressed an ear against the peeling front door. The music came from inside, but the house looked dark and vacant from where he stood. He tried the door and almost ran back to the safety of the street when the door opened to his touch.

  He cautiously stepped over the threshold and entered the small room. From the light of the lampposts outside, he could see that the room was empty apart from a table and on it were the remains of someone’s food; the leftovers fluffy with mould.