Mitch paced. It was just after six in the morning and he was alone in the office.
The best time to get things done, even if Charlie’s not happy I’m M.I.A from bed so early.
It was so quiet he could hear the clock ticking on his office wall. He knew John Windsor would be in at seven; another early riser. Other floors and departments had random activity going on, but not his.
Mitch logged into his laptop and opened the file from John. He set the images on slideshow and projected them full-size onto the adjacent white wall in his office. He stood up and watched them, concentrating on each shot.
Nothing.
He hit the button and started again. Mitch put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and rocked on the soles of his shoes. He ran his eyes over every inch of the wall photo.
Nope.
Picking up the phone, he glanced at the clock and put it down again. He went behind the desk and sat to send an email. He would request anything the Criminal Justice Information Services Division had on the former Chinese Ambassador, William Ying including any press clippings. He shot the email off and then opened the internet search engine. He began his own search on William Ying.
Thirty-six thousand references. Good, had nothing else to do.
Mitch scanned a line each from the first ten listed; it covered William’s disappearance, interviews with William’s wife, pleas from his family and even a hefty reward offered. Next, Mitch opened the Missing Persons department file that he received late yesterday. He began reading through the material on William Ying.
Last seen almost exactly one year to the day while attending a photographic exhibition at the China Club in association with the university; witnesses place him at the exhibition until eight p.m. He was not seen again and did not return home that evening.
Mitch didn’t hear Ellen enter his office until she was right in front of him. He jumped back in his seat. “Shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt you. How’s things?”
Mitch put his hand over his heart. “Once I recover from the heart attack, I should be fine. And you?” He indicated the seat opposite him.
“Excellent.” Ellen smiled sitting down. “I got motivated and finished painting the bathroom last night.”
“Bravo, blue and white, huh?” Mitch studied her. Strands of paint were visible in her blonde hair. As if to match the paint, she was wearing a white suit with a navy singlet below.
“How did you reach the ceiling?” he asked.
She gave him a wry look. “I stood on a ladder, smarty. Just because you can reach from the ground.”
Mitch chuckled.
“But I also got a bit of work done before I picked up the paint brush,” she said. “On a hunch, I dropped in on Jessica Wu’s grandmother on my way home and yes, it is her grandmother. Her nephew was there and he spoke fluent English. Jessica’s phone was not given back to the family and her grandmother never thought to ask for it,” Ellen said.
“Where’s the mother?”
“Both parents are dead. They died when Jessica was a young girl and her grandmother raised her.”
“Any chance the phone is in storage in some police box?”
“Nope, tried that.”
“Yeah, big surprise.” Mitch rose and began to pace. “Good job, thanks Ellie, but I want that phone.”
“I know. What are you doing?” she asked.
“Missing Persons file for William Ying,” Mitch said, nodding towards the open file on his desk. “I’m checking if there’s anything from the original case files that can give us an insight into why William might have disappeared, or where he is.”
“Won’t missing persons have flagged that if they found anything?” Ellen asked.
“Yep, but they were looking for a missing person. I’m looking for someone who may not want to be seen.”
Ellen studied him. “Right.”
“Coffee meeting?” he asked.
“You’re on,” she agreed.
Ten minutes later, Mitch sat with his latte in the ground floor coffee shop across the road from their building. Ellen sat opposite inhaling the aroma of her skinny cappuccino. Ellen stirred her coffee, took a sip and with a nod of satisfaction, pulled a wad of paperwork out of her bag.
“What have you got?” Mitch looked around and checked no one was in earshot.
“I like that tie.” She admired his gold-and-navy-print tie, highlighted on his crisp white shirt and paired with his navy suit.
“That it?” he teased.
“Yep,” she said. “Shall we head back?”
Mitch laughed.
“But to business … no luck with neighboring surveillance footage after the function at the university. I’ve even tried the streets en route to and from the uni but it’s too long ago now, the footage is gone. If we had done that a day or week after, we would have seen the black car, maybe got more witnesses.”
“Tell me about it. So, speaking of witnesses …” Mitch said.
“First up, Jessica Wu. She was hit by a car while returning home from university. According to the police report she had been studying late and was walking home in the dark, didn’t use the pedestrian crossing and was hit. A couple walking on the opposite side of the street saw it and called the ambulance. She died before it arrived.”
“What happened to the driver?”
“They never caught the driver. It was a hit and run. The witnesses said it was a black sports car but couldn’t recall seeing any plates.”
“What did Jessica recall about William Ying in the witness statements?”
Ellen thumbed through the file. “Let’s see … she said that she saw William talking with a man. She only saw the back of him, but he was Caucasian and they were walking towards a black limousine parked at the rear of the gallery. She recalled the number plates looked like they were government-issued.”
“Mm.” Mitch thought. He sat back and looked away. “How long after she was listed as being one of the last people to see William did the accident occur?”
Ellen went back to the accident report and then to the witness report and checked dates. “Two days later.”
“So two days after the exhibition, she’s cleaned up by a hit and run. Coincidence?”
“You won’t think so when you hear this.” Ellen stopped to sip her coffee, shuffled a page and continued. “Rodney Lam. Remember the address we had for him was a vacant block of land?”
“Uh huh,” Mitch nodded.
“Rodney Lam was the head student of the Asian Commerce and Culture group and editor of its newspaper.”
“Was?”
“Was,” Ellen nodded. “He was commissioned to do an article on the exhibition for a national art magazine. According to the police statements, Rodney Lam was the university representative who was to meet and greet William Ying that night and accompany him on the tour. Rodney Lam said in his statement that he saw William leaving the exhibition and remembers it distinctly because he heard the man with William mutter the words, ‘my career is on the line’. Lam said in his statement that he turned to look at the speaker but couldn’t make out his features in the shadows. But it was definitely William with this man, so he was still alive at that point.”
“So what’s the connection with the vacant block of land?”
“Well it wasn’t vacant then. It had a timber cottage on it which Rodney Lam lived in. Two days after Lam gave his statement to police, the house burned down and Rodney Lam along with it, allegedly.”
“Did they find a body?” Mitch asked.
“Yes.” Ellen passed him the report on the fire. Mitch glanced over it.
“But this is in keeping with our findings,” Ellen continued, “the body was so badly burnt that it was unidentifiable and there were no dental records. So they had to assume it was Rodney Lam, given he was not seen again.”
“Surely they must have regarded that as suspicious?” Mitch asked.
“I spoke with the inspector on the case at the time and he said all the boxes were ticked; Rodney Lam was a smoker and it appeared the fire started in his room. There were bottles of alcohol around the bed, evidence of smoking in the bedroom and they believe he fell asleep with the cigarette still burning. The coroner said he died of smoke inhalation. He probably didn’t even wake up.”
“If you keep this up, I’m going to need another coffee.” Mitch shook his head.
“But wait, there’s more!” Ellen teased him.
“Give it to me.” Mitch drew a large breath.
“I spoke with Mrs. Kinaird. Remember her husband was a lecturer at the university and part of the group that organized the grant for the exhibition?”
“Yep, and he was our last witness.” Mitch nodded.
“Right. Well, Mr. Kinaird had to go to the exhibition because of his position, despite not wanting to go, she said. While there, he took some social photos for the university magazine.”
“And he might have snapped a photo of William and this unidentified person?”
“He might have,” Ellen said. “But this is where it gets tricky … according to Mrs. Kinaird, her husband had left the camera in his car after the function, so hadn’t downloaded the photos yet. She remembered this because it was a couple of days after the event and the event organizer asked him to send through the pics. So he asked his wife to remind him to download them that night at home. He was bringing the camera home to do it there because it was already after six p.m. and he didn’t want to spend any longer in the office. Mr. Kinaird had an accident on his way home that night and so did his camera. In fact, it was not in the car at all when the police got to the scene.”
“It wasn’t in his office, on his desk or anywhere on campus?” Mitch asked.
“It wasn’t on any inventory list or with his personal belongings.”
Mitch looked out the window again and squinted. “The neighbor said he lost control of the car on a wet night. Is that consistent with the police report?”
“More or less. They think his car might have skidded in the wet. It is the only explanation for him hitting a light pole,” Ellen said. “According to the traffic scene report though, he was doing a hell of a speed.”
“Guess you would be if someone was chasing you.”