by Peter Ralph
“Let me tell you the penalty for bringing fifteen grams of heroin into our country. Twenty years to life with little chance of remission. You’ll be close to seventy before you get out of Changi prison, if you live that long,” Tan smiled. “You thought you were very smart bringing in that quantity of heroin, but you will find that being incarcerated in Changi is a fate worse than death.”
What had she said? ‘I do hope you get everything you so richly deserve.’ “I want to see the Australian Consul and a lawyer. Until then, I’m not saying another word.”
“You’ve already said more than enough.”
The following morning, every television station and newspaper in Australia carried the story of Aspine’s apprehension in Singapore.
Jasmine Bartlett read the front page of the Herald-Sun with satisfaction. “I have avenged you my darling,” she said, a photo of Kerry in her hands.
Vic Garland felt fifteen years younger. “What a pity they’re not going to hang the bastard,” he said, to no-one in particular.
Colin Sarll had at first felt cheated. His plans for Aspine and his own suicide were ruined. As he absorbed the news the loathing bottled up inside him dissipated. He had kids who he loved dearly, and the thought of taking his own life, and leaving them without a father, made him ill. What had he been thinking? He needed a meal, a shower and a good sleep, and on Monday morning he’d find a job, even it was only sweeping streets. He was a re-born man.
Detective Bill Muller was amazed. No wonder policemen were cynical and distrusting. He remembered Aspine bashing his son for smoking marijuana, and his vehemence toward those who peddled and used drugs. The newspapers reported that Aspine was claiming that the heroin had been planted in his suitcase but, then again, everyone caught with drugs said that.
Harry Denton was confused but had an inkling of what might’ve happened. He phoned Fiona Jeczik, who was elated, and organized to meet her for coffee in Armadale. He explained in detail what had occurred on the prior Thursday night. “You followed him and then sat out the front of her house for nearly five hours?” she said, incredulous.
“I know,” Harry responded, turning red.
She placed her hand on his forearm. “Don’t be embarrassed, your motives were good.”
“I think she planted the heroin in his suitcase.”
“Where would she have got it from?”
“I don’t know.”
“And here I was thinking that she wasn’t very bright.”
“I know, Fiona. I think you were wrong. She just wanted to create that impression.”
“But you’re only guessing.”
“Yes, but why would he take the risk with only fifteen grams? It has a street value of twelve to fourteen thousand dollars, and he made millions at Mercury.”
“What you say makes a lot of sense.”
“I think the fifteen grams was totally intentional on her part. She wants him to spend the rest of his life in Changi, knowing that she put him there.” Harry said.
“I love it. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing, but I’d like to have a word to the widow, just to satisfy my curiosity.”
“A guilty, horrible, despicable dreg of humanity incarcerated for a crime that he didn’t commit. I was happy when I heard the news this morning, now I’m euphoric.”
“You really hate him, don’t you, Fiona?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m a religious man.”
“Just think about an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, Harry. Besides, everything you’ve surmised is circumstantial, and the Singaporeans won’t listen to anything you have to say anyway.”
“I know. I don’t think anyone in the world can help Douglas Aspine. She did what the ACCC, ASIC, Vic Garland, you, I and many others couldn’t. She destroyed him.”
“God bless her,” Fiona smiled.
The Australian Consul told Aspine that Teo Boon Wan was the finest and most expensive criminal lawyer in Singapore. Now they sat facing each other in a small visitors’ area in Changi prison. “I have read the statements made by the customs officers and police, Mr Aspine. It seems that they have a watertight case against you,” he said, running his long delicate fingers through his oily silver hair.
Aspine then related everything that had occurred since Jasmine told him that her brother wanted to meet him for dinner in Singapore.
“Did you phone, Mr George?”
“No.”
“Pity. Proving you’d made contact with him would’ve been helpful.”
“Did he pay for, or reimburse you, for air fares and expenses?”
“No, but he said that he would, or at least his sister told me that he would. She also said he was going to book a room in the Mandarin Hotel for me.”
“I’ve already checked. There was no room booked in your name. In fact, there is nothing to connect you in any way to Mr George.” Teo’s spectacles slipped down his nose, and he looked at Aspine over the top of them. “Mr Aspine, in the thirty years I’ve been acting as a defence attorney, I’ve never seen a stronger prosecution case.”
“I’m innocent. How many times do I have to tell you that I was framed?” Aspine ranted.
“If what you say is true, those who framed you have done a remarkable job. Have you thought about pleading guilty?”
“Are you mad? Listen to me. I have over nine million dollars in the Caymans. Get me out of this and half is yours.”
“You’re in Singapore, Mr Aspine. All the money in the world won’t help you and if, as you say, Mr George is involved, the amount that you have is but a mere pittance.”
“I never brought that heroin in. I hate drugs but, even if I was a peddler, why would I waste my time bringing in fifteen grams worth only twelve thousand dollars? It’s madness.”
“The prosecution will say that you brought in a small amount to avoid the death penalty. If you plead guilty, I may be able to get you a twenty year sentence, which might be further reduced to fifteen years with remissions. If you plead not guilty, you’ll most likely get life.”
“No!” Aspine screamed. “No!”
“I’m sorry, Mr Aspine,” Teo said, standing to leave, “but, in the absence of new evidence, you’re going to spend a minimum of twenty years in here.”
- 46 -
JASMINE AGREED TO meet the lawyer from Singapore, and freely admitted that she’d had dinner with Aspine the night before he went to Singapore. He’d got shockingly drunk and couldn’t walk when they arrived back at her home. She’d had no choice but to let him sleep at her home, but she most definitely had not shared the same bed with him. Yes, she did remember him bringing a suitcase into her house in the morning for a change of clothes and toiletries. No, he had not brought his suitcase in when he arrived to pick her up. Why would he? It was not a romantic dinner and there was no plan for him to stay overnight. She had gone out to dinner with him because she had questions about Kerry’s estate and death, which she wanted to ask him. Yes, she had driven him to the airport shortly after seven o’clock in the morning because he was still too drunk to drive. He was disgusting. No, she hadn’t touched his suitcase or put anything inside it. Why would she?
Barbara knew that he’d been framed, but she no longer cared. He’d hurt her too badly and she’d long ceased to have any feelings for him. Trevor was somewhere in South East Asia with his girlfriend and she had not heard from him. Jemma was besotted with her boyfriend and had moved in with him. She’d hardly seen anything of her father for two years, had no sympathy for him and had adopted her boyfriend’s surname. It was only Mark who fretted, pined and fought for his father. Barbara’s heart went out to him, but she knew with time these feelings would diminish and eventually disappear.
Harry phoned Jasmine and she agreed to have coffee with him at a little shop around the corner from her home. He arrived early and, as she approached, he stood and pulled a chair out for her. She was a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. They exchanged small talk while
they waited for their coffee. “I know what you did,” Harry said, sipping his latte.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“I followed Douglas Aspine to your house that night. I saw him carry his suitcase into your house.”
“Why, why did you follow him?” she asked, trying to remain composed.
“I don’t know. I guess I was hoping I’d unearth evidence of some crime or clandestine activity. I was still out the front of your house when you arrived home.”
The colour in her face disappeared. “Why?”
“I’m old-fashioned, and I couldn’t understand why you were with the man who was responsible for your husband’s death. Then I heard the way you berated him when the cab driver helped you carry him inside. You’d been making out that you liked him, but you really hated him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, standing up to leave.
“Please sit down and hear me out. I mean you no harm.”
“Alright, for just a minute.”
“I wanted to meet with you today, to apologise.”
“Sorry, you’re confusing me.”
“When you started seeing Aspine, I was thoroughly disgusted with you. I thought you may have been having an affair with him and that was what sent your husband over the edge. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry; I don’t intend to say a word to anyone. I know how difficult it must have been for you to do what you did.”
“I never slept with him, if that’s what you mean,” she said, defiantly.
“I’m pleased to hear that, but that’s not what I meant.”
“Oh,” she said, turning bright red. “Harry Denton, you’re a lovely man. I wish Kerry had worked for you.”
“Thank you. If you ever need to talk to anyone, please feel free to contact me. You’re a very brave, clever and loyal lady, and I do admire you. What you did can be our little secret.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” she smiled, standing up. “Douglas Aspine got caught taking heroin into Singapore. I had nothing to do with it. End of story.”
“As you wish,” Harry said, returning her smile.
Detective Bill Muller’s transfer to the drug squad often involved him in looking at footage recorded by CCTV devices positioned around drug areas in Little Bourke and Bourke Streets, Melbourne. He was skimming through some footage, looking for a particular dealer who’d been under surveillance, when he saw something that caused him to hit the rewind button. Even with sunglasses and a scarf wrapped tightly around her hair, she was stunningly beautiful and unmistakable. He slowed the footage and zoomed in on her, and the Asian dealer she was negotiating with. She opened her handbag and handed him a large wad of hundred dollar bills. He looked around nervously before giving her a tiny plastic bag containing what looked like white powder. A few seconds later he handed her a slightly larger plastic bag also containing white powder. Muller zoomed in on the second bag and guessed by relating it to the size of her hand that it might well contain fifteen grams of heroin. He puzzled over what might have been in the smaller bag, not knowing that it was a powerful knock-out drug. He’d been following the case closely in the newspapers, and knew that Aspine was claiming that Jasmine and her brother had framed him. There was no evidence to support this and Aspine’s claim was deemed preposterous and no more than the ranting of a guilty man. Bill Muller had been amazed when Aspine was caught with heroin, because he’d witnessed his obvious hate of drugs. Now he knew that Aspine had been telling the truth. Muller was a good policeman, fighting with his conscience. He knew that Aspine had ruined countless lives, had driven Kerry Bartlett to suicide, had stolen millions of dollars and was arrogant and a bully – he also knew that he should disclose what he had found. Aspine would walk free and the fraud charges that he should have been found guilty of, had already been thrown out of court. He wouldn’t pay for driving Kerry Bartlett to suicide and, worse, Kerry’s widow may find herself in serious trouble.
If Muller could’ve wiped the hard disk, he would have, but no-one else would watch the footage, and even if they did, without his knowledge, all they’d see was a routine drug deal. Bill Muller hit a button and the screen in front of him turned blank – he’d not seen anything that warranted further action on his part. He was comfortable with his decision knowing that he would’ve never forgiven himself had he helped Aspine.
Aspine had aged terribly in the year since his arrest. He’d lost ten kilograms, his jowls were sunken, his hair was grey and his pallor was yellow. Now he stood in the dock waiting to be sentenced.
“Twenty years to be served in Changi prison,” the judge intoned.
Aspine gasped, slumped over and clutched his throat. “I want to appeal the judgment and the severity of the sentence.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you, the sentence may be increased.” Teo gratuitously smiled. “I thought that you’d get life.”
“You mean that I got less than what I so richly deserved?” Aspine snarled, the irony lost on Teo.
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