A Proper Charlie (39 page)

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

B
en 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 desperation, 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.

He moved forward, alert with adrenaline as he followed the music towards a dark corridor. The corridor led to the back of the house and its kitchen. A small battered radio was playing. By the light of a lamppost glaring in from another street, Ben could see the kitchen had been used recently, soapy suds were evident in the stained sink and a fresh bottle of milk was standing by the kettle. Ben touched the kettle. It was warm. Another door was a rear exit to a small back garden, or yard. That door was locked, but a window showed him the yard was empty apart from piles of rubbish and weeds.

Ben turned and made his way towards the stairs. He began to climb slowly and quietly. For all he knew he could be entering a house of a totally innocent person and he doubted Anthony Lord could talk Ben out of this one down at his not-so-friendly police station. At the top, the landing was dark, and he had to feel his way around. He found three doors; one was open – a bathroom. The second room was empty; not even a carpet on the floor. Ben left it to walk towards the third. But when he opened the door, all it revealed was an unoccupied bedroom.

Ben stood in the room, his hands on top of his head as desperation rattled his body. His teeth were clenched and he knew if he met with the killer head on he’d gladly do time in prison over his murder.

His brain teased out a clue, which he grasped. The houses here were old and that usually meant one thing – they had a cellar.

Ben raced down the stairs not bothering with trying to be quiet, and bounded towards the kitchen. In the kitchen he flicked on the light and looked around. The fridge wasn’t standing snug against the wall as it should have been, and it was twisted so that the owner couldn’t have opened its door. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t put the milk away, Ben thought, as he grasped the fridge with both hands and pulled it out. Behind it was a door, quite cleverly concealed. The cellar door.

Ben opened it and began to descend the stairs into blackness. Beneath his feet was much debris but from what he didn’t know. And to be honest he didn’t want to know, he even shivered at the thought as his feet stuck slightly with every step. He’d been too sheltered and privileged, he thought, this type of world, even though he knew existed, had never met with his before.

‘
Uumgh uumgh,’ a strangled voice said.

Ben recognised the voice. It was Melvin. ‘Keep talking. I can’t see a ruddy… argh!’ There was a loud crash, and grunt.

‘
Umgh!’ Melvin sounded panicky.

‘
It’s OK. I slipped and fell in something disgusting. Christ, what is this place?’ His feet cracked something underfoot and Ben was now afraid that if he fell again he might land on something deadly. ‘Are you all right? Is Charlie there?’

‘
Uumgh.’

Ben found Melvin when his feet kicked something soft and Melvin yelped. Ben bent down and felt with his hands the other man’s face. Melvin sputtered beneath Ben’s dirty fingers.

‘
Ugh, uumgh?’

‘
Sorry, I think I fell in excrement or something,’ Ben said, and pulled off the binding from around Melvin’s face. He remembered the last time he’d became covered in poo and emotion welled up inside him, and all he could think of was, Charlie isn’t here!

‘
Excrement? Even in serious trouble you refuse to swear and say shit,’ Melvin said sulkily.

‘
Do you want to be released or not?’ Ben said, feeling down the man’s body towards his hands. ‘Where’s Charlie?’ Ben found his hands only to realise that the man was chained up by handcuffs to piping.

‘
The abductor… his name is Rick Blither. Charlie was here; b-but the bastard forced her t-to drink something. He’s taken her. Said they were going for a ride.’

‘
Damn!’ Ben cursed.

‘
The famous stiff upper lip wavering?’ Melvin said.

Ben made as if to leave, but Melvin yelled fearfully after him. ‘I’ve been sitting here for hours. Please don’t leave me! The keys are in my pocket… Blither’s some sort of perverse joke.’

Ben reached down and felt inside Melvin’s pocket. He pulled back with a shriek of disgust. ‘You’ve a hole in your pocket and you haven’t any underwear on!’

Melvin chuckled humourlessly.

‘
Ugh! You are disgusting.’ He held his hand out before him as if something grotesque was growing on it.

‘
I would’ve t-told you which pocket but you dived in without waiting. I don’t want you touching me any more than you want to touch me!’

‘
I’m in a hurry, you moron!’ Ben yelled unfairly. He bent and roughly searched through Melvin’s other pocket and pulled out a single key. He unlocked the cuffs after several cursed attempts, and without waiting to see if Melvin was all right, he turned and ran from the room.

Outside, Ben kicked the crumpled car in frustration. When that didn’t help, he kicked it again.

‘
Like that’s going to do any good,’ Melvin said behind him. Ben turned around so furiously that Melvin jumped back several paces. He looked a mess. His short blond hair was matted with dried blood, which streaked his face and distorted the slogan with spots on his T-shirt. And his body was jittering all over the place, as if his nerves had become electrified.

‘
Are you all right?’ Ben asked at last. He knew Melvin didn’t like him because of his involvement with Charlie, but that didn’t mean he had to dislike him in return. He and Charlie were close and that meant something to Ben.

Melvin looked like he was about to cry. ‘What if sh-she’s d-dead?’ he said, his chin beginning to quiver. ‘I c-couldn’t bear it.’ He covered his face with his hands and took several deep breaths as he tried to control himself.

Ben was at a loss. He hadn’t had very much experience with women, and none with wailing men. Slowly he reached out a hand and circled Melvin’s shoulders, but the other man reeled back.

‘
Don’t!’ he said. ‘Don’t be nice, I couldn’t bear it. We’ve no time anyway,’ he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. ‘Blither mentioned moving another “friend” – his words. I think someone was in the boot.’

Ben turned to stare at the car he had just kicked.

‘
I didn’t see her. I m-must’ve disturbed him as he moved her to another car. C-Charlie was in the c-cellar already when I got here.’

Ben moved to the rear of the car, and placed an ear against the boot.

‘
Didn’t you hear me?’ Melvin yelled. ‘I said, I think someone
was
in the boot. They aren’t there now. Blither took them and Charlie somewhere else. We have to find Charlie!’

Suddenly a song shattered the quiet:
They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-haaa!
Ben spun around in shock.

‘
It’s my mobile,’ Melvin said apologetically. He sniffed and gave a little hic-cup before taking it out and answering it. ‘It’s my legman,’ Melvin said to Ben, referring to a colleague. ‘I texted him for info on Charlie earlier. Go on Mick.’

Ben watched Melvin’s face, as he took the call, for any reassurances over Charlie being found. But Melvin’s face remained drawn and ashen.

‘
Well?’ Ben barked as Melvin replaced the phone in his pocket.