by C. A. Larmer
They continued up the street, faster this time, and as they walked Roxy began berating herself aloud. “I can’t believe I forgot all about Max’s car!”
“You think it really matters?”
“Absolutely. If we find the car we find more clues that lead to Max.”
“Okay, I can see that. But how do you know it’ll be at the parking station? He could’ve parked it on any of the side streets up the top.”
“No way. It’s the only parking station in town and I doubt he’d leave a loaned luxury vehicle out on the street overnight.”
“But what makes you think it’s still there?” Caroline persisted. “We didn’t see keys for it in his room. Or a parking docket.”
No, Roxy thought, we did not. She thought then of Max’s elusive travel companion. Had he taken off in Max’s Mercedes? If it had been Jake, it would certainly explain how he got back to Berlin so quickly. Yet it seemed strange that Max would let him take the car, in effect leaving him without a way home. A slight shiver ran through Roxy’s spine. What if Jake had pinched the car without Max knowing? What if someone else had?
She shook the thought away and told Caroline, “Let’s look for the car and worry about the rest later.”
The young parking attendant had finished snickering at the 4WD and was now flicking through what looked like a sports magazine on a bench top in front of him. Roxy stepped closer and said, “Ciao.”
He looked up with surprise. “Ciao! You want your car?”
“Actually, we’re looking for a friend’s car.” She pulled out her iPhone picture again. “An Australian tourist called Max Farrell has gone missing.” She thrust the picture under his nose. “We think he parked his car here and we’re wondering if it’s still around.”
“Bad week for tourist, yeah?” He stared at the picture. “I no see this man.”
“He was driving a Mercedes.”
“What type?”
“That’s a really good question,” she said, thinking, ‘I am such an idiot! Why didn’t I ask Gunter?’
He placed his magazine aside and began flipping through what looked like a large, tattered log book. Eventually he said, “I have three Mercedes today. You got docket?”
“Sorry no.” She was about to explain that Caroline was Max’s sister, that she had a right to look for his car, but he was already opening the small door to the booth and stepping out.
“You want come look?”
“Sure,” said Roxy, giving Caroline a quick, victory smile.
The attendant peered up the road as if checking for cars and, satisfied his services were not in demand, waved a hand for them to follow him down the road towards the parking lot where the young family were still attempting to park. The wife seemed to be berating the husband, her mouth flapping fast, while the two children in the backseat stared resolutely out the windows, earphones in place.
The attendant chuckled as he passed them and continued towards an internal stairwell. He led them up a flight and past a stream of parked cars before stopping at a rusty gold-coloured Mercedes sedan. It had to be at least twenty years old and Roxy shook her head.
“I don’t think this is his,” she said and then leant in to peer through the windows. There was a large straw hat sitting on the backseat with a floral scarf wrapped around it. On one window, a sticker had something written in French with a tiny French poodle beside it. It also had French numberplates.
“This must belong to someone from France,” Caroline said and Roxy stared at her.
“D’ya think?” She turned to the attendant. “Definitely not his.”
“Okay, you follow.” He then led them to a silver Mercedes SUV, slightly dusty with several discarded coffee cups inside and a copy of Elle on the backseat.
“Oh that’s where I left it!” Caroline exclaimed. “You don’t happen to have the keys on you, do you?”
Roxy glared at Caroline so she held her palms out as if to say, “Okay, sorry, it was worth a try.”
“This one’s ours,” Roxy told the attendant and he looked it over, impressed.
“Okay, one more.”
They returned to the stairwell and went up a final flight, bursting out into the sunlight. They were now on the rooftop and there was no shade at all which explained why there were far fewer cars parked up here. The attendant looked around and then pointed towards a small, red convertible that was sitting alone on the very far side of the roof. This one looked newer but Roxy doubted Max would have agreed to park it outdoors, let alone leave the top down. In any case, they walked across and checked it out. It did have a German number plate but it also had several stickers along the bumper bar, one for FC Barcelona, another for Real Madrid.
“You think he’s been to Spain lately?” Caroline asked and Roxy shook her head.
“I think this car belongs to a soccer fanatic, which you and I both know is not Max Farrell.”
“True, but it was a loan, so maybe someone else put those there.”
There were no obvious items inside the car, probably because it was open to the elements, and eventually both women agreed this, too, was unlikely to be Max’s.
“Any other Mercs?” Roxy asked, hopefully.
“No more.”
So where is his car, then? Roxy pulled out her phone and began tapping away through the contact list. “I should have done this earlier.” She clicked on a number and held a finger up to stall Caroline’s impending question. Two seconds later it answered.
“Hello, Gunter? Hi, it’s Roxy Parker. No, no we haven’t. You?” She paused to listen for a few minutes, adding a few “oh, rights” and “yep, yeps”, before saying, “Listen, I was wondering if you could tell me what kind of Mercedes Max was driving. It obviously hasn’t shown up back there yet? ... No, didn’t think so ... Yep, oh, okay. Do you have a number plate or anything? Right ... No, that’s fine, can you just text it to me when you get it? Thanks, Gunter. ... No, we’re trying to locate it now ... Okay, sure, I’ll let you know. Thanks again.”
She hung up and turned back to Caroline. “Okay, so Max’s Merc hasn’t been returned, as we thought. Gunter says it was a brand-new compact SUV, exactly like the one we have but a slightly newer model, and it’s a deep maroon colour. He doesn’t have the numberplate on hand but will text me when he gets it.”
“Ma-rhone?” the man said.
“Yes, like a deep reddish brown colour.”
The attendant held an open palm out. “Oh, I forget this one! Come, come!”
Metaphorically holding their breaths, the two women followed the attendant who was already striding quickly towards the staircase again. He led them all the way back to the ground level where, at one end, the family had managed to park, the parents now squabbling over something in the boot. Their children were leaning against the car, earphones still in place, looking mortified, and Roxy felt for them. Family holidays were not always what they were cracked up to be. She didn’t get to experience many before her own father passed away but those she remembered were marred by her mother’s constant nagging and her father’s brooding silence, while Roxy sat in the backseat wishing it was already over. She gave the kids an empathetic smile before following the attendant right to the back of the parking lot where several cars had been parked in by others. These cars were going nowhere fast. He was pointing towards a yellow Peugeot and she looked at it and then behind it to where a dusty maroon coloured vehicle had been wedged in.
He beamed at her. “You friend’s car?”
Roxy spotted the familiar three-pointed Mercedes star symbol and then the Berlin numberplates and felt a small swoop of victory.
“That has to be it!” Caroline was saying, rushing past the Peugeot and throwing herself at a door, hoping to get in. Of course it was locked. All three then stood around the car, hands cupping their eyes, peering inside the windows. The first thing Roxy saw was a camera tripod resting against the backseat and what might have been a light meter beside it.
“Yep, it’s Max�
�s car all right.” She turned to the attendant. “I don’t suppose you have the keys?” He shook his head. “How long did he book in for?”
He shrugged. He would have to check his files.
“Can you give us a minute?” she asked, wanting to inspect the car further.
The attendant agreed, making his way back outside while Roxy and Caroline continued staring through the windows. There was an empty bottle of Coke lying on the floor on the passenger side and the cup holders contained two Styrofoam coffee cups. On the windscreen, Roxy noticed a Swiss motorway sticker that was dated eleven days ago. They were also supposed to get one when they crossed the border, a compulsory tax for using Swiss roads, but were in such a hurry, they decided to risk it. Max had not been so delinquent. She also spotted several discarded receipts on the dashboard and Roxy thought she could make out the word Milan on what looked like a parking docket. Had he stopped there on his way to Riomaggiore? And if so, why?
If only she could get in.
Caroline turned to Roxy. “I think we should check for the keys again in Max’s room. See if we can open it.”
“Okay, but let’s see what the attendant has to say first.”
They made their way back to the toll booth out front where a black BMW was just pulling in. As they waited for the attendant to process the order, Roxy filled Caroline in on her earlier conversation with Gunter.
“He told me the Berlin police have been in to see him twice now, looking for Max.”
“Oh puh-lease! They don’t honestly still think he killed his flatmate, surely?”
“No, nothing to do with Jake. Mercedes have officially filed a missing person’s report. They’ve also spoken to the Australian Embassy, apparently. But it’s not good news.”
“What do you mean?”
“Both the police and the Consulate-General in Berlin have told Gunter that it’s not their jurisdiction because Max disappeared while in Switzerland. Italy, actually, but that’s not the point. Technically the German mob are off the hook.”
“So they’re washing their hands of him?!”
“Sounds like it. They asked Gunter to call if Max turned up, but that’s all they said. Oh, that’s my phone again.”
She could hear a quick beeping sound coming from her handbag and pulled out her phone to find a text waiting from Gunter. She read it aloud: “Mercedes M-class SUV, Berlin plates.” Then she rattled off the number and Caroline nodded.
“Yep, that’s the same as the maroon one.”
Roxy was glad Caroline had remembered to take note of the plate; it hadn’t even occurred to her. Finally they were working as a team and she felt lighter for it.
“Oh, he’s ready for us now,” Caroline said.
The attendant was ushering them over as the BMW drove away and he had the book in his hands again. He began flicking through it, towards the front, and stopped at a page, smacking one palm down on it.
“Okay, yes, you car come 7:25 p.m. last Wednesday and book for three day.”
“But it’s been about six!” said Caroline. He stared at her like he had no idea what the problem was and she frowned. “Didn’t you wonder where he was?”
He shrugged. “More money for us, yes?”
Couldn’t argue with that, thought Roxy. “Did you check him in?”
He thought about this and then shook his head. “I work day shift, Henri work night.”
“I think I met Henri last night. Is he around? Can we talk to him now?”
“No, he sleep now. You come back tonight. After five o’clock. You talk then.”
“But we want to talk now,” Caroline persisted and again he looked at her unfazed.
“Thanks, anyway,” Roxy said. “What was your name?”
“Me, Aris.”
“Okay, thanks Aris. I’m Roxy, this is Caroline. If you see Henri, can you explain that we’ll be back to have a chat?” He looked at her confused, so she quickly said, “Just tell him we’ll be back.”
“Okay then. Ciao!”
Roxy took Caroline by the arm. “Come on, let’s see if we can find the key.”
“And if we can’t?”
“Then we report this to Officer Giuseppe. Maybe he can break in for us and see if there are any more clues in the car.”
This seemed to satisfy her and they headed back into town and down the hill, past the fishing boats and up the path to Ola’s Villas. Roxy still had the room key so didn’t bother ringing the front door bell, simply let them both in and led the way up the stairs to Max’s room. They were a few steps short of the landing when Sofia appeared at the top, a look of surprise on her face.
“Hello,” Roxy said, noticing she had a clump of keys in her hands.
“Why you here?!” Sofia demanded, her sticky black eyelashes scrunched together tightly.
Roxy held up Max’s room key and was about to ask her the same question when she flicked her blonde ponytail behind her and swished past them down the stairs.
“She gets around,” Caroline said and Roxy squinted after her, thinking, “Yes she does.”
“Well come on then, woman. Let’s get in.”
Shrugging, Roxy opened the door, then sighed sadly as they stepped inside. The room was even gloomier in the harsh light of day.
“So we’re paying for this dump now as well?” Caroline said and Roxy nodded.
“I don’t think we should give it up yet. Not until the police take a proper search. Maybe they need to fingerprint the place.”
“Oh God, that sounds so serious.” She held up a hand. “I know, I know. It is serious. Okay, I’ll go back through his bag with a fine-tooth comb, check all pockets, inside and out. You check the rest of the place.”
Roxy noted that “the rest of the place”, albeit small, was still fifty times bigger than the duffle bag, but didn’t bother to point this out as she began to search. She was just happy Caroline was finally being useful.
Over the next ten minutes, Roxy inspected every corner of the room again, looking under the beds, behind the lamps, and through every drawer. She spotted a small wicker basket of knickknacks she hadn’t taken much notice of before, which included a luggage padlock, TV remote control and some tobacco papers, but no keys.
Meanwhile, Caroline was pulling all the clothes back out of Max’s bag, going through each item methodically in case the keys had got caught up between the shirts or inside the leg pants.
“Nothing,” she called out, slipping a hand into a side pocket where she uncovered a dirty pair of boxers Max must have hidden away and squealed. “My brother is soooo gross!”
A minute later she was squealing again but her tone was very different. Roxy looked up to find her holding a cap high in the air. It was actually a sun visor, a small, bubble-gum pink one, with the word “Billabong” in white cursive writing across the brim.
“This has to be Candy’s,” she said, staring at it triumphantly before a flicker of confusion crossed her face. “What the hell’s it doing here?”
Chapter 22
The two women stared from the pink visor to Caroline’s iPad which was now open on Max’s Facebook page.
“It’s a match,” Caroline said, tapping one long fingernail at the picture of Candy at the top of Mt Pilatus, smiling widely as she stood in front of that stunning view, arms spread wide, candy pink visor on her head.
Roxy squished her lips to one side and studied the picture. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had first seen the image up at the Hotel Bellevue and the same feelings of jealousy and hurt gushed through her veins, but this time they were quickly quashed by a deep sense of sadness. Whatever ill feelings she had felt for this perky-looking blonde now subsided. This was probably one of the last happy moments of Candy Marlow’s relatively short life.
She shook herself a little and tried to focus. Why was Candy’s cap in Max’s hotel room? And how had they not spotted it earlier?
“Where exactly did you find it, Caroline?”
She put the iPad down and sh
owed Roxy, plunging her hand into a small pocket on one side of Max’s duffle bag. “I am sure I checked this yesterday,” she said, sounding defensive. “Someone must have slipped it in overnight.”
“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe you forgot to check this pocket. It’s only small, easy to overlook.”
“No way, I checked it, Roxy. I am not a moron.”
“I didn’t say you were. But, you know, it does have his stinky boxers in it. You might not have checked it thoroughly.”
Caroline had to concede the point but was still adamant that someone might have slipped it in afterwards.
“Okay, I’ll play along,” said Roxy. “Assuming, then, that it got put in after our search, why would someone want to plant the cap here?”
“To make it look like Max had something to do with Candy’s disappearance, of course.”
“But who could’ve done it? I mean, apart from Ola, we’re the only ones with a key, surely?”
“Oh, I doubt that. There’s probably a cleaner or two, maybe someone who’s stayed here in the past.” She began clicking her fingers furiously. “What about that woman we just passed on the stairs, the one with the embarrassing dye job?! Isn’t she the waitress from Ted’s? What was she doing here, that’s what I want to know?”
Roxy considered this. “Yeah, I wondered that myself. Of course she could be a cleaner. It’s not unheard of to have two jobs, you know. Plus she obviously knows Ola; she helped me out last night when I first came here. Or, rather, didn’t help, but you know what I mean.”
Caroline looked like she had no idea what she meant but said, “Doesn’t mean she didn’t plant the visor.”
True, thought Roxy, pulling her phone from her bag. “We have to call Officer Giuseppe. Tell him what’s going on.”
Just as she said it, her phone began to ring. She lifted her eyebrows, surprised, and spotted Gunter’s number. He was keen to hear the latest on the car and Roxy explained that it was still at the parking station, assuring him it was safe although he didn’t seem to care about that.
“The problem is, we just can’t open the car. Can’t find a key.”
