Chaloaw Stew (Nothing Ever Happens In Alstonville)

Prologue

Picture a beachside town, a place where the sparkling beach meets the streets, with their bars and pubs. Add to the mix tourists of all types, particularly backpackers, young people from all over the world, including overseas.

Such a place is Byron Bay, in Australia, a playground for tourists of many types, enjoying Byron Bay and all it has to offer.

But unfortunately evil can lurk everywhere, including in such a paradise.

The crimes which prompted me to write this work did not happen in Byron Bay. In fact the basis of the book concerns a series of young ladies disappearing in another state of Australia, but also from a town on the Black Sea, in Eastern Europe.

As is the case in Byron Bay, the streets in the Black Sea town lead straight from the beaches to the bars and pubs.

Chaloaw Stew describes the crimes and the steps taken by the police to investigate them, a team of local police complemented by specialist officers from Sydney, assigned at the personal request of the Police Commissioner.

Chaloaw Stew may seem an unusual name. I had several working titles including "A crow-bar in a Haystack and simply Alstonville," but for some reason Chaloaw Stew won.

Without giving away too much, Chaloaw Stew has nothing to do with food, recipes or cooking. It is an acronym, and its meaning is revealed within the book.

My sub-title also seems to confuse some readers.

By way of explanation, I was working overseas some years ago and I mentioned that my family was moving to Alstonville. The response from some of my fellow workers was "Alstonville? Why Alstonville? Nothing ever happens in Alstonville."

After that, and being the slightly twisted individual that I am, I just couldn’t resist incorporating the expression and the town of Alstonville in my work. It just seemed a perfect fit.

While writing the novel I seriously considered substituting the names of local towns and other places with fictitious ones, and not indicating in which country the towns were situated. I guess at the time I felt such a course of action may give the novel a more universal appeal.

Having gone part way down that path I decided to go back to my original story line, using my original place names. If my decision causes any concern, please feel free to research the actual places on the internet and substitute any similar towns in your mind, visualizing the events in the book occurring there. The story is just that, a story, and the events – if true could happen anywhere.

Enjoy

R.Addams

Chapter One

The evening was warm and balmy, as it is in Byron Bay for at least five months of the year. On the road, the exhaust growled like a wild animal as the white utility cruised along. It was just after eight pm and, although the main areas of the town were bustling, once the vehicle crossed the railway line heading west, the roads were quieter and there were fewer pedestrians.

The three occupants were on the prowl, looking for likely prey, young, attractive girls preferably not wearing too many clothes. They were the pick-up team, on the lookout for girls they could coerce into joining them. Their plan was then to pick the girls up and to take them back to where others were waiting.

The driver considered turning around and heading back to the busier areas of the town, but, as they cruised past the one and only police station the driver noticed a young girl ahead of them trying to hitch a ride. She appeared to be just what they were looking for, young, pretty and wearing a short skirt and a brief top which barely covered her large breasts. The driver gradually slowed the utility and pulled up carefully, just ahead of her, not wanting to attract the attention of passing traffic.

A guy got out of the back seat and approached the girl casually. After a brief discussion both he and the girl climbed into the back seat. She was smiling, happy that she was getting a ride.

Her name was Angela, she told them, and she was from Brisbane. She was nineteen and, like a lot of the transient population of Byron Bay, hoped to find work so she could move into a flat and keep enjoying the surf and the glorious beaches. Angela said she would not be ready to go back to Brisbane until she had experienced more of Byron.

The girl chatted nervously. Everything seemed above-board and they were heading in the direction of the caravan park where she was staying. But when the vehicle picked up speed and drove straight past the caravan park, west towards the Pacific Highway, Angela was worried.

She seemed to suddenly appreciate that she was in a strange car with three men she didn’t know, and it was obvious they were not taking her to the caravan park where she was staying.

She screamed and shouted, demanding to know what was going on and where they were taking her. The three men laughed and told her she could scream as much as she liked, the road was quiet and, with all the windows closed and the exhaust noise, no-one would hear her anyway. She tried the door handle and the window switch but they had been centrally locked. She hadn’t noticed.

The driver turned the vehicle off the main road and drove for a few kilometres along an unlit road in the direction of the coast. The road ended in a deserted car-park and the three men got out of the vehicle and pulled the screaming girl from the back seat. While the others held her arms, the driver tied a cloth bag over her head to muffle her screams then tied her arms behind her back. She writhed and struggled desperately but was no match for the three strong men. But when they tried to tie her legs together she kicked out wildly. A kick landed and one of the guys who had been trying to tie her legs put a hand to his face and yelled in pain, then let go of her legs and punched her hard in the stomach. She crumpled to the bitumen and they finished tying her legs, then two of them picked her up and pushed her into the back of the utility. Before he closed the canopy, the driver tossed an old blanket over the whimpering girl.

A half hour after picking up Angela the white vehicle was again cruising the streets of Byron Bay.

They were stopped in line of stop-start line traffic and the driver opened his window and spoke with two pretty girls who appeared to have had too much to drink, and who were trying to cross between the cars, near a busy intersection, ignoring the marked pedestrian crossings.

He introduced himself politely and offered to take them to a party where they had good music, free drinks and drugs if that was their thing.

The girls hesitated, but not for long. They had been drinking and thought that going to a party where there was music and free drinks sounded great. The traffic started moving slowly, meaning the vehicle was double parked. At the driver’s insistence that they hurry and make a decision they opened the back door and slid into the back seat, chatting in Dutch and laughing.

One asked why the front passenger was holding a handkerchief to his face. The driver explained that he had to stop the vehicle suddenly and the other man hadn’t buckled up his seat belt and he had knocked his face on the dash-board. It sounded logical and the girls didn’t question any more, but both checked that their seat belts were buckled up correctly.

As the vehicle drove away, the driver centrally locked the doors and windows but the girls didn’t seem to notice. They were busy chatting. They were giggling and saying how lucky they were going off to a place where they could party all night.

There was a break in the traffic and the driver took the next corner a little faster than he normally would have, and headed the utility West towards the Pacific Highway, trying to stick to the designated speed limits to avoid drawing any attention to the vehicle, especially when they drove past the police station. There was an occasional thump from the rear tray of the utility but, perhaps because of the traffic noise, or because they had been drinking, the girls didn’t appear to hear it. They kept chatting happily in Dutch as the utility picked up speed and disappeared into the night.

***

It was just before nine pm a week later and the same white utility drove slowly on the road through Suffolk Park, heading north into Byron Bay. The front passenger nudged the driver and pointed to a young girl walking along the side of the road. She was wearing shorts and a bikini top, and looked attractive.

As they passed her the driver shook his head. In his opinion she was very young, he thought probably only fourteen or fifteen and he reasoned that she was probably a local, which didn’t fit their criteria. The group had agreed to target only girls who appeared to be visitors to the town, in the belief that they were less likely to be missed immediately.

The driver drove slowly along the main shopping street, and pulled the utility into the car park next to the Tourist Information Centre. The two passengers left the vehicle and walked to the corner with the street, scanning the footpath in both directions for attractive young ladies.

After a few minutes they saw two girls walking arm in arm towards them. One was a tall black girl in a very short skirt and they admired her long shapely legs. Her friend was shorter and wore board shorts which were almost knee length but she was attractive. She was Asian.

They spoke with the two girls. The girls said they were in town looking for work and one of the guys immediately promised them jobs on his macadamia farm, with wages paid in cash, no paper-work, no questions asked and free accommodation. The girls were running short of money and they were not difficult to convince. When they asked to go back to their hostel on the way, to collect their things, the guys agreed immediately.

As the four joined the driver in the utility, one of the guys told the driver they needed to head out via the hostel so the girls could collect their things. He drove the utility slowly out of the car-park, turned right into the traffic and headed in the direction of their hostel.

But the utility didn’t stop.

Chapter Two

Rick Lorenzi was pacing.

He was on the third floor of police headquarters in Sydney and he felt rather like a schoolboy who was told to present himself to the headmaster’s office

Rick had been summoned to see Jerry Ambrose, the Police Commissioner and he had no idea why. He wondered if he had done something wrong. This was the first time he could even remember being on the third floor of the building, where the Commissioner and other senior policemen had their offices. Rick was concerned and thought through as many recent events as he could recall.

Had he put a foot wrong somewhere? Had someone complained about him, perhaps for the casual way he dressed, or the fact that he swore occasionally?

Send Detective Lorenzi in please, immediately, he heard over the intercom.

The receptionist, a tired looking woman in her later forties smiled and said You can go in Detective Lorenzi. The Commissioner will see you now. Just push the door, it’s not locked.

Jerry Ambrose, had a thick file on his desk, which he’d left there on purpose, wanting to give the impression he had been studying it. Apart from the file, Jerry’s desk was clean. On the credenza were two telephones, the internal unit, which was the same as those in all other offices, and a simple red phone, with no dial or keypad. Next to the telephones were a closed laptop computer and a small note-pad. There were four names written on the top page of the note-pad and all but one had been neatly ruled through. The remaining name was Rick Lorenzi.

Jerry put the note-pad in a drawer as he went to the door to meet Rick the Detective walked into the Commissioner’s office his apprehension was obvious.

Jerry had been Commissioner for two years. Both he and Rick knew that Jerry had little actual police experience. He was an academic and everyone on the Force accepted that his was very much a political appointment. Rick had heard the Commissioner referred to as ‘Jerry the Pacemaker,’ due to his meteoric rise to the number one position in the Department. To the younger officers the words had little meaning but to Rick and others who could remember the 60’s and 70’s, the play on the name of a long gone rock band was obvious.

The difference in the two men was significant, not only in terms of service and experience, but also in their outward appearances. Whereas Jerry wore a freshly pressed and stylish suit, a crisp white shirt and a bright tie neatly knotted, Rick wore trousers that could do with being pressed, and a loose sports coat over a muted floral shirt, unbuttoned at the neck.

Rick wasn’t big on appearances.

Rick knew his appearance would probably not earn him one of the top jobs but he had decided he didn’t want one of those anyway.

Rick had heard that Jerry was always careful when he communicated with his subordinates and, to earn and maintain the respect of his men, the Commissioner generally relied on facts rather than opinion, with decisions based on instructions from those above him where possible, and on plain logic. From what Rick had been told the Commissioner avoided being controversial whenever possible

Please Rick, take a seat, Jerry said after the two shook hands.

Jerry resumed his seat and patted the file on his desk as he addressed Rick, sitting opposite him.

I don’t think we have met before and I apologise for that, but I’ll get straight to the point if you don’t mind Rick, he said. We have a major problem and everyone tells me you are possibly, no; definitely, the best person in the force to help. Have you read about the five girls who disappeared in Byron Bay over these last few weeks?

Rick realized immediately that this was not going to be a dressing down session. In fact it appeared to be exactly the opposite. Rick was needed and so much that the Commissioner himself had asked for him. He relaxed.

Yes sir, said Rick. I have read the basic case notes and I know they have put together a team of local detectives, drawing them from various stations in the region. But so far I haven’t seen details of any results?

Jerry ignored the remark. He knew the team in Byron had not produced any tangible leads but he would share that with Rick in his own time.

I am told that of all the people in the force, you and your team have a lot of knowledge about such cases, Rick, said Jerry. What do you think is going on? And, from your experience, do you think we might find the girls alive?

Rick was quiet for a few minutes, letting the questions sink in and choosing how best to answer them. Shaking his head he answered the second question first. "Unfortunately, I doubt we will find them alive sir. From my experience, if they are going to be released alive, guys who pick up girls to sexually assault them – which I think is the case here - generally dump them after a few days. They tend not to keep them locked away for weeks. There have been exceptions of course but usually involving only one or two girls at a time, not five.

For a start, where could they be kept?

But unless there is more information than what is in the basic file, I suggest we just don’t have enough details yet to determine just what we are looking at."

You’re right of course Rick, Jerry said, "And no, unfortunately we don’t have any more information and I guess we are assuming the worst, but without any facts. And we agree, it’s hard to imagine these girls have been picked up for any reason other than some sexual gratification, and, like you, we believe that after all this time the girls will probably be killed.

Tell me, what sort of person would kill, assuming they are killed? I mean would the person have to be deranged?"

Rick decided he would be a little surprised if the Commissioner didn’t already have an opinion regarding just what sort of person might kill in the circumstances but he realized he was probably being tested. He played along.

He couldn’t help noticing though that the Commissioner stressed the word ‘we’ and Rick wondered just how high up the chain of command the ‘we’ extended.

"In my view sir, there are four main types of killer, with a lot of sub-groups of course. The first is the planned hit, such as when a gang member takes someone out, perhaps a rival, and I suggest we can discount that in these cases.

The second is the killer who lashes out in rage, such as is the case with most of domestic murders. They are not necessarily planned, and often the partners don’t mean to kill, more often the death is the result of a spontaneous outburst. Again, with five girls that we know of involved, I don’t see their deaths, if in fact they are killed of course, as being of this type. Although I must clarify that if any are killed it could be the result of a fit of rage at a particular point in time. I’m hoping that they are not dead already, but we must face that possibility.

Then we have the killers who consider they don’t have a choice. It’s really a progressive thing. They do whatever weird things they do and let things get to such a stage that killing the victim is the only way to protect their identities, sort of a self-preservation thing.

And the fourth type? interrupted Jerry.

"The thrill killer, The out and out psychopath who has no regard for human life and gets his, or her, rocks off by killing, mutilating, maiming, all or any of these.

In my opinion, we are not looking for a psychopath, and there aren’t as many true psychopaths as most people might believe, I suggest we are looking at the third category, where death, if there are deaths, will be to protect the identity of the culprit or culprits. These are usually the less blood-thirsty killings, less gruesome and more humane, if there is anything humane about killing of course."

I understand what you mean, Jerry said nodding. I hope you are wrong but, following your logic, that puts more pressure on us, to find these girls before the culprits come to the conclusion that they have no choice but to start killing to protect themselves. And of course, we must find them to stop them abducting more girls to satisfy their desires.

Patting the file again, the Commissioner said, Rick, Brian Ellis is in charge up there and I have been told he is a good copper, and a nice guy, also that he has some good detectives working on his team, assigned from Ballina and Lismore as well as from Byron Bay itself. Do you know the people up there at all?

Rick looked steadily into Jerry’s eyes. Despite his appearance and the difference in their positions, Rick spoke quietly and with control. He had heard of Jerry’s contacts and his influence in political circles, and was careful with his choice of words. "Unfortunately I don’t think I am wrong sir. In time, and heaven knows when that might be, I believe they will come to a point when they believe they have no choice but to kill the girls, to clear away potential witnesses. And I agree we need to find the girls as soon as possible to stop that happening. And of course to stop this gang of deviates and hopefully save others from being picked up.

As for the Byron Bay team, I’ve met Brian Ellis sir, when I visited the area on what could probably best be described as a bus-man’s holiday. I was looking at places I might like to transfer to, should the pressures here get too great. I’m also considering my kids; life in a small place sometimes seems preferable to them growing up in Sydney, and of course there is the weather and life-style to consider. Byron Bay was one place on my list.

Brian struck me as being pretty well on top of the problems in his area and proud of what he had achieved in a sometimes volatile environment. From what I saw of him and heard when talking with the locals, he is highly regarded. He told me personally that he has been divorced twice and planned to retire in a few years’ time. Other than that we just discussed what Byron might have to offer as opposed to Sydney, and the types of crimes he had to deal with, on a general level of course."

That’s why we believe we need your help Rick, Jerry said. "Brian and the other locals have never had to handle a case like this and we, that is, the Premier, the Police Minister and I, feel that he needs help from a professional, a professional like you.

Brian hasn’t asked for help mind you."

You do realize Brian will see any involvement from Sydney as interference in his patch, sir. Rick suggested. I think it will put him off-side,

Oh it definitely will Rick, and we all appreciate that, said Jerry. But this has quickly become a very high profile case and we don’t think we can leave it in Brian’s hands alone. What we are hoping is that you can, very tactfully, say you are there at my personal request to support and help Brian, but then gradually assume the lead role. We must both make it clear from the start that it’s not an authority or superiority issue and that you are only there because of your extensive knowledge and experience. From what we have been told, you’ve handled a lot of cases of disappearances and abductions, and particularly those involving violent crimes against women. Also we understand you grew up in the area and are familiar with the lay of the land.

Yes sir, Rick replied. Unfortunately I’ve been involved in too many similar cases. They just seem to follow me. And yes, I grew up in New Italy, just down the road from Byron Bay, so I know the area very well.

"I know your current assignment is Sydney and particularly the Kings Cross area Rick, and that you being out of that region for a while might cause a few problems, but this case is attracting such notoriety we feel we must take positive action.

Because all the girls are visitors to the area and some are from overseas, Australia and Byron Bay’s reputations as safe and secure holiday destinations are severely tarnished if not totally destroyed already.

The father of one of the European girls has a senior position with the Belgian police force, which has added another pressure and the parents of the other, a girl from the Netherlands, are already in Australia, asking questions and demanding action.

Australia’s reputation has suffered in recent years, because of a few unrelated incidents. But the current cases make the situation suddenly much worse. Already the safety of kids visiting Australia, and the ability of the various police forces in Australia to solve the crimes are in question.

Because of that, and pressure from the Prime Minister, the Feds are also asking how we are handling the cases, who is running them, and what we have found out so far? You know, all the things people want reassurances about. They have indicated they may be sending their own investigators in, and we wouldn’t be surprised if they have already. Naturally we would like to manage it in-house and avoid the Feds getting involved if at all possible."

Rick knew very well from past experience that the New South Wales police department, at all levels, resented interference from the Federal guys.

Yes, I understand that sir, and I agree, said Rick, feeling a little more secure and less guarded with his answers. "Having Sydney people there would be a hard enough pill for Brian to swallow. Having the Federal Police there would push it to a totally different level, and I can’t see them working with Brian, or him with them. They will just take over where they want to, with the two groups working in spite of each other instead of together.

What do you want me to do exactly?" Rick asked.

Jerry interlocked his fingers and spoke quietly. "We would like you to get up there as soon as possible, tomorrow if you can. Take someone with you if you think it will help but don’t overdo it. Flooding the Byron office with outsiders would probably result in us getting absolutely no cooperation. As far as the locals, if you think there are any you can’t work with, or who won’t work with you, you have our authority to request Brian take them off the case. And he can contact me or the Minister of Police personally to verify that message if necessary. We don’t think it will happen but you never know.

And we need to know exactly what is going on, if the locals have any tangible leads and what they are working on.

I would like a telephone report daily, and Rick, we need results. You may need to re-focus the group, pull whatever they have to pieces and redirect them. Do whatever you need to do, and, if you feel Brian Ellis can’t or won’t cut it, you tell me and you take over.

I think you appreciate that we are serious. We need action and you are authorised to do whatever it takes to solve these cases."

Rick let that sink in for a full minute, then replied.

I’d like to take Chris Johnson with me sir, said Rick. "She is the closest person I know to being a profiler. She is very professional and has a knack for getting female victims and witnesses to open up and trust her. She also saved my life once and if we should get into a dangerous situation I can’t think of anyone else I would rather have backing me up.

Also I will send you details of other officers who should come up to Byron Bay if things get bad and I look like replacing some of the locals. If you have a list to work to it will make things much easier."

I agree and thanks Rick Jerry said. "We don’t know Chris. Her name hasn’t come up in our discussions, but we trust your judgement. Do what you have to do. I will get my secretary to make the flight bookings and confirm them with you. Just give her your personal details before you go. And, as soon as I have the flight details I’ll call Brian and explain that the two of you will be in Byron tomorrow at my request, and then email a confirmation to both of you.

And Rick, what I said about Brian must remain confidential. Like all of us he has been under the microscope and on these cases we are not sure if he is incapable or something else, but we are not getting reports of any kind, and that is totally unacceptable."

Rick assured Jerry that he understood. He shook hands with Jerry