‘Afternoon flight from Perth two weeks ago. I remember him because he was a very nice man. Most people are in a rush and too busy to talk, but he wasn’t. I do this job so I can talk to people. I’m on my own, now, see. Not much conversation at home. That’s why I remember him so well. ‘He said he’d be here for about two weeks, maybe a little longer if he found who he was looking for, and he’d be staying at the Federal Hotel. Hadn’t booked a return flight.’
‘Did he say what he was looking for?’ Dave asked.
‘It was a who. But that was all he said.’
‘Uh-huh. And why didn’t you report the vehicle missing when it wasn’t returned on the day?’
‘I’d organised with him to give me a call if he was going to be over the time frame and he asked if I could give him a two-day grace period, just in case he was out in the bush.’ George frowned.
‘Is that normal practice?’
‘Not at all. He seemed like such a good bloke I told him no worries. Apparently I’m either too nice or too naive. I assumed he’d let me know, and when I hadn’t heard from him on the second day, I thought I’d give him two more…Just in case, you know? I guess he could be in the Northern Territory by now.’ The old man sighed. ‘Reckon head office will probably give me the flick if I’ve had one of my cars stolen.’
‘What makes you think he might be in the Territory?’
George shrugged. ‘If he wanted to steal the vehicle he’s got nineteen days, hasn’t he? Could be anywhere. I just picked the Northern Territory out of the air. He never mentioned anything about it.’
‘I see.’ Dave glanced up at the ceiling. ‘Any security cameras aimed at your desk?’
He nodded. ‘That one up there.’
‘I’d like to get the footage, please.’
‘I guess you’ll have to talk to the airport people about that. Avis just rent space here. The rest is up to the airport.’ Dave had expected as much. ‘And this vehicle, it was in good condition, no known problems? Reliable? Couldn’t have broken down and he’s stuck somewhere?’
‘If he broke down it wasn’t because the car wasn’t in good nick. All my vehicles are in tiptop shape and serviced regularly. It’ll be because he’s got a flat or put a branch up through the radiator or something like that.’
‘Does that happen often to the vehicles you rent out?’
‘More than you’d think. Especially if the renters aren’t four-wheel drivers and don’t know this country.’
Dave paused, gathering his thoughts. ‘Did Mr Bartlett have any distinguishing features?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tattoos, scars, that type of thing.’
George narrowed his eyes, trying to remember. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said slowly. ‘But I couldn’t be sure.’
‘Okay, thanks for this. I’ll be in touch once I’ve got something. I’ll go and find out who to talk to about the video footage.’ He reached into his pocket for his wallet and took out a business card. ‘If he turns up or you remember anything else, make sure you give me a call. I’ll send you through the stolen vehicle report so your company can get on with an insurance claim.’
‘Great, thanks.’
They shook hands and Dave walked away.
Three hours later he was back in the station, looking at the security footage. It had taken an age to find someone who was authorised to give it to him, but he’d persevered and left the airport with video tapes of the day in question, plus the ones for a day either side. One thing Dave had noticed since his move to Barrabine was that the people out here were never in a hurry—they seemed to run on their own time. The balding man who oversaw airport security seemed to be on ‘go slow mode’. There was certainly no sense of urgency.
‘What have you got?’ Spencer asked, looking over his shoulder.
‘Nothing yet.’
‘Run his driver’s licence?’
‘Yeah, he hasn’t got a record or anything of interest. Speeding ticket in his home town of Ballarat three years ago, but that’s all. Not married.’
‘Any next of kin?’
‘None who I’ve found yet.’
Spencer went over to the whiteboard and wrote Glen’s name up on it, along with the details of the missing vehicle. ‘Put out a 4-2-4 on the radio. Get everyone to keep an eye out for the vehicle.’
Dave jotted a note to remind himself; 4-2-4 was a report of a stolen vehicle. ‘Will do.’ He swung the chair around to look at Spencer. ‘Find anything of interest in the PM report?’
Spencer scratched his head. ‘Not really. Pretty healthy fella by all accounts. Like you said, a cleanskin, so no identifying features. However,’ he held up a finger and pointed at Dave, ‘the broken leg will be helpful in identifying him if nothing else turns up.’ He paused and squinted at the whiteboard. ‘I think I’ll get the gold analysed,’ he said slowly. ‘See where it’s come from. Might at least give us an idea of where he’s been.’
‘Good. That’ll be helpful.’
Dave turned back to the television screen and continued viewing the security footage. He watched as Glen Bartlett approached the Avis desk and smiled at George Robertson. There was no sound to the tape, so he couldn’t hear what they were saying and the pictures had been taken from too far away to be able to lip-read.
Glen looked to be about the height and weight of his John Doe and George Robertson was right: he smiled a lot. He’d spent a good fifteen minutes chatting with George compared to the five or so minutes most people took at the desk, signing papers and getting their keys. Having seen the interaction, Dave wasn’t surprised George remembered him as well as he did.
‘I’m going to the Federal,’ Dave told Spencer after he’d finished examining the footage. ‘See if I can get any information there.’
‘Good idea. You
