by Amos, Gina
‘Sure. No problemo.’ Sam liked Ashleigh. Nothing was ever too much trouble for Doc Taylor. The whole department liked her; she was a real pro, but she took her job to heart, too much sometimes.
Chapter Eleven
Otto’s bar was a dive but it was a quiet place to hang out. The patrons were mainly cops or staffers from the morgue. It was on the seedy side of town, but its patrons were used to seedy. Ashleigh pushed open the front door and looked around for Nick Rimis. Tony was here tonight playing the alto sax. Soft, soulful blues. His playing cried out to her, seduced her and suddenly she felt like crying with the loss and regret that she heard in those low notes
The bar tender was Tony’s brother and he was serving tequila shots to a grey faced man who looked like he needed a friend to talk to tonight. Nick Rimis was propped up at the bar. He had his back turned away from the grey faced man and was talking to someone Ashleigh assumed was also a detective. He had that look about him, the crumpled, cheap suit he was wearing didn’t sit comfortably on him, his tie had worked its way loose and the sign of a five o’clock shadow was forming on his crooked face.
Ashleigh walked up to Rimis and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Buy a girl a drink?’ she said.
He spun around, stood up and pecked her lightly on each cheek, the way Europeans do. ‘What are ya having, Ash?’
‘Make it a white wine, something cold and dry will do.’ She looked at the guy who’d been talking to Rimis when she came through the door.
‘I’m Colin. I work with this guy,’ he pointed at Rimis with his thumb and laughed. He took Ashleigh’s hand in his, shook it hard and gave her the once over. He dipped his thick, pudgy fingers into the plastic bowl of mixed nuts which were sitting on the bar. Ashleigh watched him as he licked his fingers and decided she’d give the nuts a miss.
Rimis ordered a round of drinks and when they arrived, Ashleigh threw back a large mouthful and swallowed hard. The liquid coated the back of her throat; it was refreshing, like when you dive into a pool after a stinking hot, dusty summer’s day. Both Rimis and Ashleigh ignored Colin and he soon got the hint. He picked up his beer and walked down to the far end of the bar.
‘The Phillips’s case turn up anything interesting?’ Rimis asked.
‘Nothing obvious, or nothing I wouldn’t have expected from a woman her age. She was undernourished, had a few circulation problems, but considering her age and the fact that she was living on her own, I’m not really surprised. There was also a bit of bruising on her face possibly from when her face hit the table after she passed out. I’m waiting for the tox reports and the drug and alcohol screens to come in before I type up my report. Should be in the next day or two.’ Ashleigh looked at Rimis and took another mouthful of wine.
‘What’s wrong Ash? I know that look.’
‘What look?’
‘The one you get when you’ve got something bugging you.’
Ashleigh swirled the remainder of her wine around the bottom of the glass and held the stem with her thumb and index finger. ‘Look, I didn’t really know Rose Phillips, okay, but I’d seen her, heard the talk from the neighbours.’
Rimis raised his eyebrows.
‘I know your take on all of this. You think it was suicide don’t you?’
Rimis looked at her, took a slug of beer and let her continue.
‘The police report said that a real estate agent found her body and that they found sleeping tablets, antidepressants and Scotch at the scene. Well, here’s a bit of information you might not know. The house is already on the market. Big sign, I’m surprised that it hasn't got bright neon lights flashing on top. There’s a ‘deceased estate’ sticker slapped right across the middle of it. I’m thinking, what if the son has money problems. I hear he has a fancy lifestyle and a demanding wife. What if he wanted Rose out of the way so he could sell the house? Kevin told me Rose was a stubborn, proud woman. What if she wanted to stay put, didn’t want to cooperate? I’m sorry, Nick, but suicide just doesn’t seem to fit the profile and she didn’t seem the type to be a heavy drinker either. There were no signs of alcohol abuse, her liver was in good shape considering her age. Anyway, it’ll be interesting to see the results when they come back and what her alcohol reading was at the time of death.’
‘Look Ash, we’re still treating this case as suicide, there’s no real evidence to think otherwise. You gotta remember, sometimes alcohol helps beats the blues and any other worries you might have, especially when you’re old and nobody gives a shit.’
‘Sounds like you’re talking from experience Nicko.’
Rimis looked down at his empty glass and quickly changed the subject. ‘By the way, have you heard the son’s asked the Coroner for an inquest? Like you, he seems to think the old lady didn’t top herself.’
‘That’s interesting. Well, he has the right to do that, Nick, but it’s up to the Coroner whether he thinks an inquest is warranted, you know that.’
‘Let me know when you’ve finished your report.’
They sat and listened to the music and didn’t say anything to each other for sometime before Ashleigh spoke. ‘Kevin Taggart has offered to drive me and the old women who live across the street, to the funeral. Might be interesting to see who turns up and check out what the family’s like.’
‘I’ll go along as well and I’ll bring the rookie for experience. She’s bright and a good looker. Her name’s Brennan, Jill Brennan.’ Rimis finished his beer. ‘Your shout mate,’ he called out to Colin at the other end of the bar. ‘I’ll have the same again.’ He turned to Ashleigh, ‘What about you Ash, want another one?’
She shook her head. ‘No thanks, I have to drive.’
‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ Rimis continued, ‘Jill Brennan, she’s been in the force for about four years now and she’s interested in this case for some reason. I suppose it’s because she was the one who broke the news to the son. He took it hard apparently.’
‘Listen Nick, forget Brennan for a minute will you, and do me a favour. Apart from the son, you might want to do a bit of digging around, find out about my neighbour, Kevin Taggart. There's something odd about him that just doesn’t sit right with me. He seems to have an unhealthy fascination for little old ladies, always going on about how proud and lonely they are and the trouble that causes.’
‘I interviewed him when I was there last Friday. I know what you mean about him, but he’s an artist, maybe he’s just eccentric.’
Ashleigh shrugged her shoulders and looked at her watch.
‘Want to come for something to eat?’ Rimis asked, as Ashleigh searched her shoulder bag and pulled out a twenty-dollar note from her purse for the next round of drinks.
‘Nick, I’m really beat. I’m going home for an early night. Nice meeting you Colin,’ she called out and waved in his direction.
‘Yeah, likewise. I’m sure I’ll run into you again sometime, bound to, in our line of work,’ Colin laughed and raised his glass. He had his arms around Stephanie Brooks, a legal clerk from the Coroner’s office.
Ashleigh walked out onto the busy street and wrapped her coat around her. The nights were turning cold.
Chapter Twelve
Frederick Milne took two steps at a time and entered the foyer of the Glebe Coroners’ Court. Forty-five minutes later, he entered the court room carrying a large clutch of case files under his arm, sat down and made himself comfortable in a worn leather chair. The Coroner was not a big man nor was he powerfully built. His neatly trimmed moustache was peppered with the first signs of grey which looked at odds with his jet black hair. He looked insignificant as he scratched his chin and examined the files sitting on the desk in front of him. Jane Fairchild, the Coronial Advocate assisting him, stood and looked out at the expectant faces of the small group of people gathered before her in the courtroom. She made an opening address and outlined the background of the case and the issues to be investigated. Milne looked up and addressed the court.
‘This is the inquest
into the death of Rose Patricia Phillips. Before we start, I’ll ask if there are any members of Rose Phillips’s family present here this morning?’
William raised his hand and stood up. ‘Yes, Your Worship, I’m William Phillips, Rose Phillips’s son.’
‘Good morning Mr Phillips. I’m sorry we meet in these circumstances. I know you may have a number of questions you may wish to ask today and we will try to do our best to provide you with the answers. Can I ask if you have anyone representing you?’
‘No, Your Worship.’
Frederick Milne nodded and asked William if he had seen a copy of the brief and the evidence that was to be presented.
‘I have Your Worship.’
Jill Brennan didn’t look at William when she was called to take the stand. She focused on the Coroner as she walked towards the front of the courtroom and missed the look William gave her.
‘Please tell the court your name, rank and station.’
‘My name is Jillian Margaret Brennan. I have recently been promoted to the rank of Detective Senior Constable of police and I’m currently stationed with the Serious Crime Investigation Unit.
‘Were you rostered to be on duty on Friday, the 22nd May of this year, Detective Senior Constable?’
‘Yes, I was.’
‘Did you receive a communication to attend at number 15 Eden Street on that day?’
‘I did.’
‘And did you go there?’
‘Yes, I attended the scene.’
‘Were you accompanied by another officer and if so what was that officer’s name?’
‘I was accompanied by Constable Daniel French.’
‘What did you see when you arrived at the scene?’
‘We spoke to a Miss Ambah St John, a real estate agent who had called in a death. Miss St John advised us that she had been commissioned to sell the house by the deceased’s daughter-in-law, a Mrs Suellyn Phillips. Constable French and I were directed to the side of the house by Miss St John. She advised us that the occupant, a Mrs Rose Phillips was in the kitchen and appeared deceased. Constable French being taller than myself looked through the kitchen window first and it did appear to him that she was deceased.’
‘Can you please describe the deceased?’
‘She was wearing a grey coat and from the condition in which we found her, she appeared to have been deceased for some days. The deceased was face down on the table and her arms were hanging by her side. There were two empty packets of prescription medication on the table, Sinequan and Noctamid. There was also an empty bottle of Scotch and an empty jam jar on the kitchen drainer. Mrs Phillips’s cat was locked in the laundry.’
‘From the observations you’ve just described, were you able to come to any conclusion or opinion what had caused her death?’
‘We came to the conclusion that she had taken her own life. A mixture of alcohol and prescription drugs seemed to be the likely cause.’
William buried his head in his hands and shook his head.
‘Constable French and I notified the deceased’s son, Mr William Phillips at approximately eleven-fifteen am on Friday morning, the 22nd May.’ Jill looked in William’s direction. ‘I also contacted...’ Jill looked at her notebook, ‘Doctor Mark Fitzgerald to arrange for the provision of medical records pertaining to the deceased. Doctor Fitzgerald is a general practitioner at the Medical Centre in Riverview. He informed me that he had been the deceased’s doctor for several years and considered that until the time of her death, in general terms, she had been in a state of good physical health. He informed us that he had last examined the deceased approximately seven months prior when she had presented with depression and insomnia. It was at this time that he prescribed Sinequan and Noctamid.’
‘Did you carry out any other form of investigation Detective Senior Constable?’
‘I did. At approximately six pm on Monday the 25th May, I attended the Glebe Morgue where the post mortem was being carried out on the deceased. I spoke with a Doctor Ashleigh Taylor who was performing the procedure at the time. She informed me that she was waiting on toxicology reports before making her findings, but at that stage there didn’t appear to be any evidence of foul play.’
‘So, in terms of the police investigation...?’
‘In my opinion there were no suspicious circumstances surrounding the deceased’s death. I believed at the time after speaking with Miss St John that the stress of moving to a retirement village and having to leave her home may have been the impetus for her to take her own life.’
‘Was a suicide note of any kind found at the scene?’
‘No, there wasn’t.’
‘Thank you Detective Senior Constable, I have no further questions for you. Mr Phillips is there any information you wish to know or any other questions you wish to ask of Detective Senior Constable Brennan?’
‘Yes, your Worship. I’d like to ask what the name of the Scotch was that was found at the scene?’
‘I believe it was Highland Park,’ Brennan replied.
If that’s all?’ Frederick Milne raised his head and looked at William.
William nodded.
‘Thank you Detective Senior Constable, you may step down.’
Jill Brennan didn’t look at William as she walked past him and returned to her seat at the rear of the court.
‘Your Worship, I would like to call Doctor Ashleigh Taylor,’ Jane Fairchild said.
Ashleigh took the stand, crossed her bare legs and adjusted her skirt.
‘Please tell the court your full name and current occupation.’
Ashleigh cleared her throat. ‘My name is Doctor Ashleigh Louise Taylor. I am a forensic pathologist employed by New South Wales Health and Pathology and am contracted to supply forensic services to the Coroner.
‘I believe you conducted an autopsy on the body of Rose Patricia Phillips on Monday, the 25th May this year?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
After Ashleigh presented her findings and the results of the toxicology report to the Court, Jane Fairchild stood and faced the Coroner. ‘That’s all the evidence we propose to lead for the purpose of Your Worship making a preliminary finding in the inquest of Mrs Rose Phillips under section 53 of the Coroners’ Act.’
‘Do you wish to ask Doctor Taylor any questions Mr Phillips?’ the Coroner asked.
‘Yes, Your Worship,’ William replied. He stood and buttoned his jacket, shuffled his feet and looked across at Ashleigh. ‘Doctor Taylor, the bruising on my mother’s face. I was wondering about that. Is it possible to tell what caused this bruising and did you find any evidence to suggest that it was not self-inflicted?’
‘To answer your question Mr Phillips, can I first say that bruises as a rule are simple injuries. The interpretation of bruising on a body is different in every person because people bruise at different rates. Also bruising continues a short time after death. As we all know, as people age, the skin becomes thinner. This is because the blood vessels are less protected from injury as the circulatory system undergoes pathological changes. An injury inflicted by mild trauma, for example, bumping one’s head against a table may result in a substantial bruise. The site of the bruising was consistent with your mother’s face coming into contact with the kitchen table. Her nose and chin were badly bruised but I found no evidence to suggest any homicidal bruising. I also found no evidence of bruising on the neck or any finger or nail marks to indicate that a hand had been used to produce the bruising. I hope this answers your question, Mr Phillips.’
‘Thank you,’ William said.
There was a short recess so Coroner Milne could prepare his findings. On his return to the Court forty minutes later, Frederick Milne put his reading glasses on and looked at William Phillips. ‘The finding of this Court is this: that Rose Patricia Phillips died somewhere between the hours of four-thirty p.m. and six pm on Wednesday, the 20th of May at her home at 15 Eden Street, Lane Cove in the state of New South Wales and that the cause of death was
a combination of alcohol and prescription drugs. She suffered from sleep apnea, a sleeping disorder that caused her to take sleeping medication on the afternoon she died as well as Sinequan which is an antidepressant drug. The manner of death is undetermined. The death can now be registered and the body released for burial. I express my sympathy to you and to your family on your loss, Mr Phillips.’
There was a scurry of activity, Milne stood and gathered his papers, chairs shifted and scraped on the timber floor, doors closed.
‘Thank you,Your Worship’ was all that William said. He stood and left the court room. He pulled his coat closer to his body and grabbed his keys from his pocket. As he aimed the remote control at his car, the blip of the unlock button was lost to the wind. He opened the driver’s door at the same time as a woman’s voice called his name. Her voice was strong and clear. He inserted the key in the ignition and stood by the car resting his arm on the top of the opened driver’s door.
‘William,’ Jill was short of breath. I'm glad I caught up with you before you left.’ She touched his arm lightly, ‘I'm sorry you had to go through all of that and that you didn’t get the answers you were looking for.’ She turned her head back towards the direction of the Court.
‘Thanks Jill, thanks for everything. I’ll give you a call, but now’s not a good time.’ He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about Jill Brennan or what Jill Brennan was going to do about him.
*****
William pulled up outside his mother’s house and looked through the windscreen at the ‘For Sale’ sign planted in her front yard. A diesel motor hummed behind him and his eyes darted to the rear view mirror. A silver-grey Landcruiser turned into a neighbouring driveway. He knew the pathologist who performed the autopsy on his mother was a neighbour and he watched as the Landcruiser came to a stop and Ashleigh Taylor stepped down from the vehicle.