Killing Sunday

by Amos, Gina

  Kevin ignored her. ‘I need to talk.’ He wiped the sweat from his forehead and pushed past her.

  Jill sat down on the ottoman and fidgeted with her hair. ‘You okay?’

  Kevin sat down opposite her in the middle of the sofa. His knees were twitching; he looked pale and drawn as if he hadn't slept for days. Then the expression on his face changed. A faint smile appeared on his lips. He sat back on the sofa, as if he expected to stay there for some time. ‘Your boss, Nick Rimis, he’s a good copper that one. Sharp as a tack. From the first time we met, I knew he’d made up his mind about me.’

  Jill shifted on the ottoman and placed her hands on her knees. ‘Inspector Rimis would like to speak to you. I, we…’

  He was staring past her with glazed eyes and Jill realised she was looking at madness, plain and simple.

  ‘Kevin?’ Jill frowned. ‘Did you hear what I just said?’

  When he spoke to her, he lowered his voice; it was almost a whisper. ‘After Edi and Rhoda, I thought it was the end of it. I went back to living my life and I didn’t think about them again. With the money they left me, I was going to disappear. I wanted to start a new life, escape the past, leave the bad memories behind.’

  Jill’s heart was in her throat.

  ‘No one was more shocked than me when I won the Wynne. People, important people, noticed me for the first time in my life. I had a chance to do something decent for once. Then I met Freddie Winfred.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, empty syringe, held it between his thumb and index finger and tapped it lightly against his leg. His hands were shaking. He looked around him, over his shoulder, towards the front door. The music and noise from downstairs were getting louder. The party was in full swing.

  Jill had thought Rimis had it all wrong about Kevin, but he was right. She looked at the scratch marks on his face and knew she had to stay calm.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘See who it is and get rid of them.’

  Kevin followed her to the door and whispered, ‘I’ll be standing right behind you with this.’ Kevin traced the point of the syringe against her neck and edged closer to her.

  Jill opened the door as wide as the brass chain would allow. ‘William. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what happened the other night and —’

  Jill heard the conciliatory tone in his voice. ‘It’s not me you should be saying sorry to,’ she said. ‘Go and phone him. I don’t want to talk to you, it’s Sunday! Do you hear me? It’s Sunday!’ Jill slammed the door in his face and waited for the sound of him leaving. She stepped back. Kevin flipped the catch, locking them in. The madness was gone, at least for the moment. Perhaps she had imagined the whole thing and he was playing some sick, cruel joke on her. He told her to come away from the door and they walked back into the middle of the room.

  ‘Boyfriend trouble?’

  ‘Why are you here, Kevin? Why are you doing this?’

  Kevin wasn’t listening. He scratched his arms through his coat. He was pacing backwards and forwards. He turned to her. ‘I want to explain everything to you before I leave,’ he said. There was a silent pause. ‘My mother was a very troubled woman. Can you believe a son could hate his mother enough to kill her?’

  ‘Some sons could,’ Jill said.

  Kevin slumped down onto the lounge, threw his head back and stared at Jill. ‘I was in the back seat when a truck ran a red light. It crashed into the driver’s side of the family’s station wagon. It was my fifth birthday. Ever heard that song, Right or Left at Oak Street?’

  ‘No.’ Jill edged herself onto the ottoman. If she could only keep him talking there may be a way out of this.

  ‘It’s about making choices. Turn right, turn left?’ He hummed a few bars of the song.

  ‘Your mother blamed you for your father’s death, didn’t she?’

  He stopped humming and looked at her as if she was mad. ‘I blamed myself. He took the long way home; he was going to take me to the park so I could play on the equipment. I remember I had been pestering him all day. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been at that intersection. That’s why I never stood up to my mother. I took whatever she dished out, all the punishments, all the abuse. All those wasted years.’ Kevin shook his head. ‘But then, I couldn’t take it anymore.’

  Kevin pulled out a worn, brown leather diary from the inside of his coat pocket and threw it on the coffee table in front of her. ‘Take a look if you want, they’re all there; she wrote all the punishments down in that book. I keep it to remind myself of how evil she was. My mother was filled with feelings that ate away at her. In the end they destroyed her, just like they destroyed me.’

  She flicked through the diary and when she handed the diary back to him, she watched his paw-like hands caress the cover, as if it was in some way holy. His breathing was more even now and he closed his eyes. When he didn’t speak, Jill wondered if he had fallen asleep. She shifted on the ottoman and tried to stand.

  His eyes flicked open and he leant forward and returned the diary to his coat pocket. ‘Don’t you want to know how I did it? How I killed her?’

  ‘You’re going to tell me anyway.’

  ‘Chest pains. She got me to take her to see her doctor. When I was in the waiting room, I picked up a medical journal on venous embolisms. Never heard of them before then. These embolism things got me thinking. I read up on how to find an artery.

  ‘It was a Sunday, I put the kettle on as usual and after she dozed off on the sofa, I took an empty hypodermic syringe, ran my fingers slowly down her neck until I felt her pulse and injected it into the artery. The carotid artery, you heard of it? It only took a few minutes. She never said a word.’

  ‘What about Edi and Rhoda Blake?’

  Kevin frowned. ‘Those two were too proud for their own good. And they were like me, nobody cared whether they lived or died. I did them a favour. Edi was losing her marbles anyway, and Rhoda wasn’t far behind.’

  ‘But didn’t you feel anything, after you’d killed them?’

  Kevin spoke in a small voice. ‘I returned to my life without another thought. Locked the memories away in a little black box in my head.’

  Jill had to lean forward to hear his words. She knew that if she got out of this alive, she would never doubt Nick Rimis’s instincts again. She drew in a deep breath. ‘Tell me about Freddie.’

  ‘Freddie?’ His mood changed and he laughed. ‘I liked her at first, then I found out what sort of woman she really was.’

  'What do you mean?'

  'You’ve met her. She was always showing herself off, flaunting herself. Mutton dressed up as lamb.’

  Jill looked puzzled. ‘The way she dressed was no reason to kill her.’

  ‘She rang me, wanted me to come and pick her up from her gallery. The battery in her van had died and she wanted to drop off a painting at Chisca’s warehouse. She told me she wanted to take one last look at North Coast Summers before it left the country. I knew Chisca was going back to Romania for good and was taking my watercolour with him. She was flustered when I picked her up and couldn’t stop talking about the painting, or Chisca. I got the feeling she was infatuated with him. We got to the warehouse and she became agitated when she realised she’d left her phone at the gallery.

  ‘We went inside. Freddie unlocked the storeroom and unwrapped the painting she'd brought with her. I was shocked when I saw it. It was an innuendo of North Coast Summers. At first, I didn’t know whether to be flattered or angry, so I told her it was a good copy and we both had a laugh.’

  ‘So why did she take you to the warehouse?’

  Kevin squirmed in his seat. ‘She wanted to swap the original. At first, I thought she was joking, and then I saw the greed in her eyes and knew she was serious. I thought she appreciated my talent, liked me for who I was, but it was the money she was after. Freddie was all fired up and tried to convince me Chisca wouldn’t notice, but I wasn’t so sure. He’d told m
e the painting reminded him of a place in Romania where he’d spent family holidays when he was a boy. I even looked it up on Google Earth, but I think he saw something in it that I didn’t, because it looked nothing like the place.’

  ‘What was Freddie going to do with the original?’

  ‘She was going to sell it and share the spoils with me. She wanted me to take over from where Chisca left off and use my reputation to push her sister’s innuendos. I tried to talk her out of it. She asked me what the harm in it was, if he was leaving the country. She said Chisca would be long gone before he noticed the difference. Her plan was to sell them on the overseas market, but I told her I wasn’t interested. A lot of time and effort had gone into painting North Coast Summers. Then she laughed at me, told me I was a fool because I could make good money. Said she had made a killing with Chisca and she didn’t want it to stop. She started talking about money laundering. I didn’t get what she was on about and told her I wouldn’t be part of it. Then she laughed at me again. It was that laugh of hers that did it. When I first heard it at the Archibald, it reminded me of the way my mother laughed at me, and when I heard it again at the warehouse, something came over me. I snapped. I was surprised, she put up a good fight.’ Kevin ran his fingers over the welts on his cheek.

  ‘Did her sister know what she was up to with Chisca?’

  ‘Who? Calida? No,’ he laughed. ‘Freddie told me she didn’t have any idea what was going on.’

  ‘So what happened to the original?’

  ‘After I killed Freddie, I thought about what she had said. I took it and left the copy. I was surprised when I picked up the painting, I didn’t remember it being so heavy. I pulled part of the frame away. It all made sense then. It was the drugs Chisca’s clients were after, not the art. I don’t know what happened to the paintings once the drugs were removed from the frames; I suppose they were sold on eBay or used for land fill.’

  ‘Did Freddie know what Chisca was up to?’

  ‘I don’t think it would have entered her stupid little head. Chisca was paying her good money for the innuendos.’

  ‘Kevin, let’s talk to Nick Rimis. I’m sure —’

  ‘I’m tired of talking.’ He moved closer to her and ran his open hand down her face. His expression changed. He looked as if he’d woken up in the middle of a nightmare. Perspiration was streaming down the side of his face.

  Jill had bought herself some time, but she knew she had to keep him talking at least until she worked out what she was going to do next. Before the undercover assignment took her away from general duties police work, she’d come up against men like Kevin Taggart; men who were out of control, either from drugs, alcohol or mental illness. There was no way to stop them because they had nothing left to lose. Kevin was menacing her with the syringe, trying to unnerve her.

  ‘Kevin you don’t need to do this. I thought we were friends,’ Jill said as a knot of fear pushed up from her throat.

  ‘Friends? Some friend. You’re boring me now.’

  ‘It was Freddie we were after, Kevin. I went undercover to —’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any of it.’

  Jill tried to imagine what Rimis would do if he was here in this room with them now.’

  Kevin started to sing the song, ‘Turn left…’

  Jill was thinking hard now, trying to come up with ways to distract him. Isn't that what Rimis had taught her? Her service revolver was in the bedroom.

  Kevin stepped closer. ‘Don’t get any ideas.’ The staleness of his breath was overpowering.

  She considered her options. Kevin was solidly built with heavy shoulders, but he wasn’t particularly fit. She wasn’t sure what his reflexes were like, but after three glasses of wine, she knew she couldn’t rely on hers. Whatever she decided to do, she had to act quickly. She wondered what he was waiting for. Why didn’t he just jab her and be done with it?

  ‘You know why I have to kill you?’ Kevin spat flecks of saliva at her.

  Jill shook her head.

  Kevin wiped his hands on his shirt and ran his tongue over his lips. ‘You lied to me about leaving the police; you told me you liked my paintings, but you were only using me to get to Freddie. I trusted you, liked you, but you’re just like all the rest.’ He rushed towards her.

  Jill dropped to the floor, rolled onto her side and stood up again in time to deliver a swift kick. He buckled over. The look on his face told her that, like most men, he had underestimated her. Service revolver. She ran towards the bedroom.

  Eyes wide with pain, he followed after her, grabbed her from behind and delivered a swift punch to the side of her head. She staggered, moaned and stumbled forwards. He grabbed her hair and slammed her face into the floorboards. Crack. Bloodied nose, stinging eyes, legs folded beneath her. A kick to her ribs.

  Kevin gritted his teeth. Another kick to her ribs. He straddled her, pinned her down with his full weight. Bright lights, taste of blood, thumping in her head. Get the fuck off me, Jill opened her mouth to scream. Get the fuck off me! But the words didn’t come.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The unrenovated, Californian bungalow where Rimis lived was in a quiet, leafy street, three blocks back from Maroubra Beach. His mobile phone rang. He sat upright on the floral, high winged chair, which had once belonged to his mother. The lights were all on, the TV was blaring. He picked up the remote control and pressed mute.

  Yawn.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. He checked the time on the DVD player. Nine-fifteen.

  ‘Nick? It’s William Phillips.’

  Rimis heard the panic in William’s voice. He stood up from his chair, ran his hand through his hair.

  ‘It’s Jill. I’m outside her apartment. I went to see her tonight, but before I had a chance to say anything to her, she told me to phone someone. She didn’t say who, but I took a guess and rang you. She wasn’t making any sense. There was something about the way she spoke to me. I could tell she was scared, really scared.’

  Rimis swallowed. ‘She alright?’

  ‘Don’t know. Maybe it’s worth you coming over.”

  ‘Did she say anything to you?’

  ‘Yeah, she was going on about it being Sunday, made a big fuss about it. But what that’s got to do with anything?’

  ‘Stay where you are.’

  Ten minutes later Rimis’s Commodore screeched to a stop behind William’s parked car. He jumped out. ‘Wait here,’ he yelled.

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘I need you to stay here for when back up arrives, tell them where I am.’

  Rimis knew as well as any officer did, the procedure was to wait for back up, but Jill’s life was at stake here. He sprinted up the stairs two at a time and thumped against the door with his fist.

  No answer.

  Seconds later, he took a step back before leaning into his kick and driving his heel into the door. He looked across the room. Jill was out cold on the floor, her legs splayed flat against the floor; Kevin was saddling her, holding a syringe in his hand.

  Rimis looked from Jill’s inert body to Kevin and every instinct told him to react, but he knew he had to stay calm.

  ‘Put it down Kevin, nice and slow now.’

  ‘I’ll do it. I’ll kill her, one jab in the right spot will do it.’

  ‘You don’t want to do this. It’s over, it’s finished with. People will understand.’

  ‘Understand? I’m beyond having anyone understand me, you and I both know that.’ Kevin’s voice choked.

  ‘Put the syringe down, we’ll talk.’

  Sirens in the street.

  Kevin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Got to you, didn’t it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What I did to Edi and Rhoda.’

  ‘They didn’t deserve to die.’ Rimis kept his anger in check.

  ‘I knew if their deaths looked accidental, I’d get away with it. But Freddie, I made a mistake with her.’

  Willi
am rushed up behind Rimis. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  Rimis held one arm up to block him from advancing any further. He could hear the shuffle of feet on the stairs, neighbouring doors being opened, closed again. The music that was so loud when he’d first arrived, now suddenly quiet. He looked at William from the corner of his eye. ‘Thought I told you to stay put,’ he said.

  Rimis took in the room, the upturned coffee table, the curtains pulled from their tracks and the standing lamp lying on the floor next to him. He was proud of her; she had given Taggart a run for his money.

  Brennan stirred, groaned. She turned her head to one side and Rimis locked onto her eyes to give her some reassurance. Brennan had seemed so tough when she’d first started this assignment, but recently, he’d seen another side to her.

  Kevin looked at Rimis and shook his head. ‘My mother. You’ve got no idea what it was like being controlled by her. But I’m the one who’s in control now.’

  ‘It was a long time ago, Kevin.’ Rimis took a step towards him.

  ‘Stay where you are, or I’ll use this.’ Kevin stabbed the air with the syringe.

  ‘What would your father think if he could see you now? What would he say if he knew what you’d turned into?’

  Kevin’s eyes widened, he rolled his head to one side and bellowed like a wounded animal. ‘Shut up. Don’t talk about him. Shut up, shut up,’ he shouted. Horrible sobs erupted; an outpouring of pain, self-loathing, torment.

  ‘Get off her Kevin. I’m not telling you again. Get off her now!’

  Kevin raised his arm in the air, ready to strike. Without pause, Rimis squeezed out a single shot. It hit Kevin in the side of his neck.

  Kevin rolled off Jill and landed on his back on the floor beside her. A slow wet stain appeared on his trousers. Urine. His body was stretched out on the floor, like a Salvador Dali painting. It had happened too fast. Rimis's nostrils filled with the smell of cordite. He walked over and crouched down beside Kevin. His face was a mess. He felt for a pulse before removing the syringe from Kevin’s fist.