Hi everyone. I hope you enjoy more of the life and times of Charlie and Joey's life amid the Summer Bay community. Love, IJKS xxx
Chapter Four Hundred and Ninety Nine
It was back to work for everyone the next morning and Charlie and Watson were told the moment they arrived at the station that they were needed to help search the bait shop.
"What are we looking for?" Charlie asked when she and Watson arrived, meeting Robertson and Graves at the scene.
"Anything and everything," Robertson replied. "Something that looks out of the ordinary. We also want their accounts and knife inventory."
"Do we think the murder weapon might have come from here?" Watson asked.
They were all stood outside, waiting for Alf to arrive to let them in. Robertson had called him first thing, eager to wake him up with the news of a search warrant. Of course, he had been delighted.
"It looks that way," Robertson replied.
He had been curious after his conversation with Leah about Alf and his easy access to weapons. It wasn't something he had considered before. So, why not search the bait shop and find out what kind of knives he actually had and what ones, if any, were missing?
"Morning, Alf," Charlie said, when she spotted him approaching.
"Hi, Alf," Watson said.
He greeted both women and ignored Robertson and Graves.
"You've got a search warrant?" he then said to the Detectives.
"Yes, we do," Robertson said, showing it to him as proof.
"Fine," he said. "Search away. I've got nothing to hide."
He unlocked the door and let them in, seating himself on a bench outside. Charlie and Watson looked at him apologetically as they followed Robertson and Graves inside.
Once inside the bait shop, Robertson directed them to different parts of the shop, eager to ransack the place to find any evidence they could. Charlie and Watson hoped that they might find something to exonerate their friend. Robertson and Graves hoped the opposite.
Having gathered their evidence, Charlie, Watson, Robertson and Graves exited the bait shop. The search had taken a good hour and Alf had sat outside the whole time. Charlie could read the anxiety on his face even though he was trying to make it look like irritation.
"Are you done?" he asked, standing up.
"Not quite," Robertson said in usual, irritating, cheerful tone. "Could you come down to the station with us for a chat?"
"Can't we chat here?"
"I'd rather it was a bit more formal," Robertson said.
Alf looked uncomfortable.
"Why?" he asked.
"I just want to be professional about all of this," he said.
"Fine," he said. "I'll travel with Charlie, please."
"No problem," Robertson agreed.
He turned to Charlie.
"No prepping."
Charlie glared at him and then smiled kindly at Alf.
"Our car's over there," she said.
Alf sighed and followed her and Watson to their patrol car.
At the station, Charlie sat in on Robertson's interview with Alf.
"So, tell me about the knives you sell at your bait shop, Alf," Robertson said, sitting across the table from him.
Charlie was sat reluctantly by the Detective's side.
"What about them? I sell a range of standard fishing knives."
"Do you sell this brand of knife?"
Robertson slid a picture of a knife across the table. Alf looked at it.
"Yes, I do."
"Have you sold any recently?"
"No. To be honest, we're not selling much at the moment. The bait shop isn't making any money. It's a hobby at best. There isn't a market for it anymore. I don't even breakeven. I keep it going for nostalgia more than anything. I was about to close it until Will came back to town and needed some work so I put him in there part time, paid him a small wage. But he doesn't really have anything to do."
"So, you don't recall selling that knife?"
"No," Alf said. "The stock barely moves. I check the inventory regularly as well as the accounts. The last time that knife was sold was months ago."
"It's concerning that you're such a good liar, Alf."
"Now you listen here," Alf snapped, getting annoyed. "I am not lying. I am an honest man and I am telling you that unless it has not been logged, that knife has not been sold in my store."
"And as far as you're aware, all the knives you haven't sold are present and correct, are they?"
"Of course," Alf said. "Why wouldn't they be?"
"Perhaps because one of them was used to kill someone?" Robertson suggested.
"That's what you think?" Alf balked.
"That's exactly what I think," Robertson said. "I mean, we're getting somewhere now, aren't we? It's perfect, isn't it? You own a bait shop. You've got a grudge. You get into a fight with the guy. You get the knife. You kill the guy. You wipe the blade. You put it back. Nobody even has to know. You can hide the murder weapon in plain sight. It's perfect."
"No!" Alf said. "That is not what happened!"
"Then why don't you explain what did happen?"
"I don't know what happened! I've told you! I wasn't there!"
"I don't believe you!"
"Okay, we need to stop," Charlie interjected, aware that Alf was getting red in the face.
Stressed was pouring out of him. Robertson glared at her.
"Five minutes," he said. "Then we're back in this room and you are going to tell me exactly what happened that night."
"I've already told you I don't know what happened," Alf snapped back.
Robertson stopped the tape and left the room. Charlie looked apologetically at Alf and followed her colleague.
"What the hell are you trying to do in there?" she demanded.
"I'm trying to catch a killer!" he yelled back.
"Then you are looking in the wrong direction!"
"No!" he said. "You need to open your eyes! He has motive and opportunity. Didn't they teach you anything in training?"
"They taught me not to be a narrow minded moron," Charlie said. "You're as obsessed with Alf as Penn was."
"And look what happened to him," Robertson remarked. "Maybe I should watch my back."
"You need to stop focussing on one person and start looking for the truth," Charlie said. "And be careful with someone who could be vulnerable. You're being way too aggressive."
"I'm very sorry, oh wise one who lives inside the boss's arse," Robertson said coldly. "I cannot wait until this case is over, Alf Stewart is serving his murder sentence and I don't have to work with you anymore."
"And I can't wait until we've found Penn's real killer and you're eating humble pie far away from here," Charlie said. "Why Leah thinks you're a good guy I'll never understand."
"Five minutes is up," Robertson said, walking back into the interview room.
Reluctantly, Charlie followed him, still fuming.
They sat down together with Alf who looked tired and unhappy. Charlie hated having to do this to him.
"So, you sell the knife," Robertson said. "You claim not to have sold any recently. But we couldn't find all your knives in your inventory. One was missing. The same knife that fits the type of knife that killed Penn Graham. How do you explain that?"
"I can't explain that," Alf admitted.
"Have you had any break ins?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Do you think you might have sold the knife without logging it?"
"I don't know," Alf said. "I don't have much to do with the bait shop anymore."
"Oh yes, your little friend, the Fresh Prince of Bel Air."
Alf looked confused.
"Will Smith?"
Alf still looked confused.
"Never mind."
If anyone else had said it, Charlie would have been mildly amused but it was Robertson so she wasn't.
"He works part time in the bait shop, does he?"
"Yes, he does part time in the bait shop and part time in the restaurant," Alf told him.
"So, he could have had access to the knives?"
"He wouldn't have done anything to Penn," Alf said quickly. "He didn't even know him."
"Trust me, I'm not accusing him," Robertson said. "Just you."
Charlie grimaced. Why was he being so short sighted about this?
"Look, are you going to charge me with something or not?" Alf asked tiredly.
"Not," Robertson said. "Not yet anyway. But trust me, it won't be long."
"Can I go?"
"Yes," Robertson said, standing up.
Alf and Charlie stood too.
"Let me give you some advice," Robertson said. "Things will be a lot easier if you just confess. Get your story out there first. Plus a voluntary confession always looks better in court."
"But I didn't do anything," Alf insisted. "I haven't touched any knives. I didn't go anywhere near Penn that night. I avoided him at all costs. I swear to you."
"Then you need to find a way to prove it," Robertson told him.
It had been a very long day and Charlie was exhausted. She drove home via Summer Bay House, wanting to check on Alf and make sure he was alright. He was grateful and thanked her for trying to help him as much as she could at the police station.
Arriving back home, Charlie fell into Joey's arms and kissed her passionately. She held her tightly and fell into the sofa with her, blurting out everything that had happened with Robertson and Alf.
"That's scary," Joey said worriedly. "I mean, do you think Robertson can use that against him?"
"It doesn't look good," Charlie admitted.
She couldn't lie.
"I mean, I'll do everything I can but like Robertson says, Alf has motive, opportunity and no alibi."
Joey leant back against the sofa and closed her eyes. She just didn't know what to do.
"But," Charlie said, reaching out to hold her girlfriend's hands. "One thing he does have is the fact that he is innocent. He has justice on his side."
Joey looked at her.
"I hope you're right."
"What do you think of Will?" Charlie asked.
"Will?"
"Yeah, you know I asked you to kind of suss him out?"
"Is he a suspect?" Joey asked.
"Only to me," Charlie said. "It's just that he's the only other person who would have had access to the equipment at the bait shop. I can't prove anything but… I just… I have a hunch, I guess."
"Well, he seems okay, I guess," Joey said. "He's quiet. Keeps himself to himself. Private. He and Angelo get along quite well."
"Well, that doesn't say much for him!" Joey cracked.
Charlie chuckled.
"But… there's maybe something a little off about him," Joey admitted. "Something… not right."
"That's what I thought," Charlie agreed.
"But then again, Irene adores him," Joey added. "She worships the ground he walks on. She raised him from a teenager. She vouched for him when she wanted me to employ him. And she's a good judge of character, as is Alf who also thinks very highly of him, so…"
She shrugged.
"Maybe there's something we're missing."
"Well, we're missing something in all of this," Charlie said. "Somebody killed Penn. We know it wasn't Alf but we can't prove it. It could have been Will but we don't know for sure. There's a missing link somewhere and we have to find it sooner rather than later."
That night, Roo was sure she could smell burning. Following the smell, she went outside and was surprised to find her father standing at the incinerator.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "It's late."
"Just getting rid of some junk from the bait shop," he said vaguely.
"Where have you been all day anyway?" she asked. "I haven't seen anything of you."
"I've been down at the cop shop," he told her. "Robertson has been harassing me again."
"Ugh. Why won't that man leave you alone?"
"He'll be driving me into an early grave at this rate," he said.
His voice was flat and sad. She felt sorry for him.
"So what are you burning?" she asked, a little concerned, a little suspicious.
"Just junk. It's quicker this way."
"Oh. Okay."
"Go to bed, love," he said. "It's late."
With the conversation clearly ended, Roo headed back inside. She was worried.
Next time… Robertson persists with his investigation, suspicion is rife in Summer Bay and Angelo feels left out…
