Page 69 of The Attercop

“Did your contact have any luck with those land title searches?” Charlie asked.

“He’s on his way over to help with the search,” she replied. “And I got the other information to Sam. Any news on Declan or Jules?”

Charlie shook his head. “Not yet.”

He went to his desk and dove into the results of the program his computer had been running since last night. The lengthy internet search had yielded nothing on Jules. He let out a deep sigh.

Why am I not surprised.

The closest he found was a Janice Slate. She had a Facebook page with only a few postings, mainly about volcanism on the moon. This was obviously a dead end.

The search on George Slate was more productive. His LinkedIn page said he worked for Alcase Mining Investments. Charlie pulled up their webpage. They existed—apparently since 1976. The company focused on linking potential investors with mining companies in need of capital. Charlie called their main office number.

“Good afternoon. Alcase Mining Investments. How may I direct your call?” a firm voice asked.

“Yes, do you know how I would get in touch with Mr George Slate, please?”

“One moment, please.”

Two rings later, the phone was answered. “George Slate.”

“Mr Slate? I’m surprised to reach you. I thought you were away. It’s Charlie Watts from Declan Hunt Investigations.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “What is this regarding?”

Charlie continued. “Your daughter Jules—have you heard from her today?”

There was another long pause at the other end of the line. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think you must have the wrong number.”

Charlie was confused. “Are you not the George Slate who hired Declan Hunt Investigations to handle the security of your daughter Jules as she started classes at the University of Calgary?”

“You really do have the wrong number,” the man said with a frustrated tone. “I do have a daughter named Janice, but she’s studying abroad, and has been for the past two years.”

Charlie wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. Instead, he simply said, “Thank you for your time, Mr Slate. I obviously have the wrong number,” then hung up.

Without moving from his chair, he called out, “Mrs B, can you please track down where the payment for Jules’ security contract came from? I think we’ve been had.”

“Right away, Charlie.”

What do I do now?

Charlie checked his watch. He hadn’t heard anything from Sam or Gary yet, and he still had some time. Maybe there wasanother way to find Jules. Charlie decided to go back to the coffee shop where he’d picked up Jules the night before.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Charlie pulled up in front of Chuck’s Coffee Shop. It was a long shot, but maybe Jules was there. He ran to the door and tore it open. All heads inside the coffee shop turned to look at him. Charlie’s eyes scanned the small space, but Jules was nowhere to be seen.

Damn.

He went up to the barista. Charlie recognised him. It was the same guy who’d been working the night before.

“And what can I get for you today?” asked the young man. His name tag identified him as Kemberlin. Charlie had an instant feeling about the guy, so he thought he’d take advantage of it.

“Kemberlin. Great name,” Charlie said, and winked at him.

Kemberlin smiled back broadly.

Bingo.