by D. B. Tait
“The bee,” he said.
“They all have tiny bees on the handle. It’s the brand mark,” Eleanor said, faintly.
Julia stared at Palmer. He returned her gaze with one of sharp determination.
“Julia Taylor, I am arresting you for the murder of John Henry Melville. You do not have to answer any questions but if you do not answer…”
A loud roaring blocked out all sound.
No, no, no. She couldn’t go back. She wouldn’t.
Without thinking, she made for the doorway and ran. Out though the kitchen and into the back garden before Palmer caught her and held her.
“Julia, Julia stop, stop. This won’t help,” he muttered as she struggled against him. She was crying now, terror and panic clawing their way into her muscles and bones.
“Help me, help me,” she pleaded with him. “Don’t let them take me.”
The other cops surrounded them but Julia felt rather than saw Palmer wave them away.
“You have to go with us Julia. There’s no other way.”
Julia stopped struggling and stared into his eyes. She could feel her family hovering inches away.
“Can you contact Dylan?” she said. “I need to talk to him. Please, it’s important.”
Palmer frowned. “He had to go to Sydney for court. He should be back tomorrow. Why? Why do you need to talk to him?”
She shook her head. “I just need to talk to him. Can you contact him?”
“I’ll call him,” Dee said. “Right now.”
“You’re still under arrest, Julia. Do you understand that?”
“I understand that someone wants me back in jail. They won’t get away with it.”
The inexorable tug of Constable Ryan on her arm pulled her away from Palmer, but not before Eleanor grabbed her in a tight embrace.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you out. We will,” she said fiercely. “I won’t allow anything else.”
*
In the end, it was only a night and a day, but it was enough. Enough time for the blackness to hover, just hover at the edges of her sight, ready to swoop in and clamor for blood.
She was prepared. She beat the dusty wings away and held on to her mind.
Not this time. I need you this time.
They took her to the station and waited for her solicitor to arrive.
“I told you. I won’t answer any questions until he arrives.”
“He’s coming from Sydney. He might not get here before the prison transport arrives to take you to Silverwater.”
Her stomach churned at the thought of getting into one of those filthy, claustrophobic vans, but if she had to do it she would.
“Then you’ll have to go down to Silverwater and question me there.”
Palmer grimaced but said nothing. But in the end her solicitor did arrive in time.
“That’s it?” he said. “That’s the sum total of your evidence? An earring worn by my client that her sister says she sometimes wore as well? Why didn’t you arrest Blossom?”
Campbell Walton, art lover and raconteur, was an old friend of her mother’s. A prominent Phillips Street solicitor, he’d dropped everything and rushed up to the mountains from Sydney after one phone call from Eleanor. Now he sat in the shabby interview room and glared at Palmer and Constable Ryan.
“Come on, Mr. Walton. Your client was convicted of stabbing a pedophile priest to death. A month after she gets out of jail, a lowlife drug dealer is found stabbed to death in her backyard. The same lowlife drug dealer she threatened after she warned him to stay away from her sister. Now another sex offender is found stabbed to death only meters away from her house and her earring found nearby. As well as that, the victim was stabbed with a knife from the Taylor house. Looks like enough to me.”
“Not nearly enough. It sounds to me as if someone is trying to set up my client in a clumsy and amateurish way. What surprises me is that you’d fall for it.”
Palmer shifted in his chair and dropped his eyes.
He didn’t fall for it, Julia realized. So what was this all about?
Campbell realized at the same time. “What’s going on here? What are you up to?”
Palmer rustled some papers around and sighed heavily.
“We have to follow procedure by the book. Ever since you got out of jail, Julia, disaster seems to have followed you. Now I don’t know if you are responsible or someone else wants to make it look like you’re responsible, but we need to take this investigation one step at a time.”
“One step at a time?” Campbell exploded. “And that includes sending my client back to jail?”
“How could we not, given all this evidence?”
Later, the magistrate agreed. She was denied bail and listed for the transport to Silverwater.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make an urgent application for Supreme Court bail,” Campbell said to her as she was taken to a holding cell. “We might be lucky and get a hearing tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “It’ll be all right. I’ll get through this. Been there before, haven’t I?”
Chapter 25
The transport to jail was as bad as she thought it would be. She was locked in a compartment away from the male prisoners being escorted to Silverwater but the sounds of distress were unavoidable. Crying, yelling, vomiting, people coming off drugs or having a psychotic breakdown, all that in one metal van heading down the highway to Silverwater. This was the run from Bathurst and Lithgow so it sounded like it was a mixture of people denied bail in the local courts and prisoners being transferred from other jails.
She blocked it all out. Kept up a mantra in her brain.
This too will pass. This too will pass.
Finally, the truck turned in to the Silverwater complex then in to the Metropolitan Remand and Reception Center where all the men would be offloaded and processed. It took a while getting them off and all their belongings sorted. More yells, orders, and a few lags greeting others like old friends.
Eventually the truck backed out of the sally port and drove a hundred or so meters down the complex to Silverwater Women’s, once called Mulawa.
Julia blinked as she climbed out of the van and into the harsh lights of the reception area. Her legs were cramped and she stank of stale air and desperation. She wanted to throw up. All the memories of the first time she was processed into Mulawa clamored in her brain like psychotic birds with harsh cries and sharp beaks. Then she’d blanked out the horror by disappearing into herself. This time she didn’t have that luxury. She had to stay together to get out of this terrible place.
“For fuck’s sake, what’re you doing here?”
She recognised the prison officer in front of her. Collins. Not a bad one, rough, but sometimes helpful.
Julia knew in that moment she’d have to toughen up or sink. She shrugged. “Some people don’t like me on the outside. They wanted me back in and made sure that’s what happened.”
Collins scanned the list in front of her. She found what she was looking for and glanced at Julia. “Yeah. That’s what they all say. Come on, we better get you tucked in for the night. This way.”
“My family will’ve driven down with some stuff for me. When can I get it?” she said, half running to keep up with the PO.
“Later. First things first.” She opened a holding cell and motioned Julia in. “Shouldn’t be long. Not many in tonight.”
Julia sat on one of the concrete benches and nodded to the women in with her. She didn’t recognize any. One leant back against the wall with her eyes closed while the other two twitched and bit their nails.
“Fuck,” one of them muttered. “What’s taking them so long? I haven’t been dosed today.”
She got up and started pacing around the cell. The woman with her eyes closed opened them and snarled at her. “Sit the fuck down and shut up. Bad enough being in here without listening to your crap.”
The other woman immediately sat and didn’t say another word. The snarling woman looked at
Julia with blank, dark eyes. Assessing her. Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her. She leant back and closed her eyes again.
Julia smiled to herself. She knew women like this one. Tough, in control and would take no opposition. Out for herself and no one else. But if you cooperated with her, she’d leave you alone.
The reality of prison life hit her again. All the hierarchy, all the subtle and not so subtle cues about what was acceptable and what wasn’t, made her tired. She took her cue from the woman opposite her, leant back, and closed her eyes.
After a while, when all the other women were called and taken to be processed, it was her turn.
The strip search. She’d forgotten. How could she have forgotten that moment, that one event that tipped her over the edge last time. After finding Blossom naked and covered in blood, after the priest, after the arrest, after all the nightmare of O’Reardon and the police cells, the act of taking off her clothes in front of cold strangers shattered her mind for months.
Not now. She wouldn’t disappear now.
It will pass, it will pass, it will pass.
One prison officer in front of her, watching, the other behind.
“Open your mouth,” the one in front of her said. She did and made her eyes go out of focus as the PO peered into her mouth.
“Run your hands through your hair.”
“Now your clothes. Hand them over one piece at a time.”
She shivered but held onto her sanity as she removed her clothes and handed them over. She wouldn’t look at them, didn’t want to see what was on their faces. They peered at her body. Would they make her squat this time?
“Quick, get dressed,” said one, indicating a pile of prison greens. “We need to get you locked away.”
She dressed quickly in the green tracksuit pants, T-shirt, and sweatshirt, shivering with cold and fatigue.
She was taken into an office where a woman in civilian clothes was reading a file. Julia tried to stop herself shaking but the hard cold of prison had started seeping into her bones.
She looked up and motioned her into a seat, introducing herself as Chris, a welfare officer.
“Okay. Let’s get all this out of the way so we can have a chat.”
Julia stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She knew it was her file Chris had been reading. She was probably shit scared she had a potential self-harmer in front of her. Julia knew for the first year or so of her sentence she was nuts, so it was fair enough the woman in front of her would be nervous.
They went through a questionnaire about her immediate circumstances, whether she had children or pets that needed looking after, whether she had any support on the outside, whether she was withdrawing, hearing voices, or otherwise not traveling well. When Julia answered in the negative to most things except for support outside, Chris sat back in her chair and stared at her.
“So what happened? Why are you back here?”
Julia contemplated what to say. If she said anything about O’Reardon and his drug smuggling activities, she’d be dead meat. Not that she had any reason to think this woman corrupt, but she’d be obliged to tell security staff what Julia claimed. Word would get out. Then she’d be dead meat. In fact, it was highly likely she was in danger anyway. A convenient suicide from a woman who had a history of instability. Arrested sent back to jail. She needed to be alert at all times.
“They’ve charged me with murder. Apparently I’m on some vigilante kick.”
The woman frowned some more and stared down at the file. She hesitated. “The thing is Julia, the last time you came into custody you were very unstable. We can’t take the risk of putting you in the main without first making sure you’ll be okay.”
Julia’s blood went cold. She knew what that meant. Down to the MPU. The Multipurpose Unit. The dumping ground for anyone who needed close watching because they were mad, withdrawing, intellectually disabled, or all three.
“I’m fine,” she said, trying to remain calm. Any hint of hysteria would make it worse. “You don’t need to put me in the MPU.”
The woman shook her head. “Not a risk I’m prepared to take.” She stood and scooped up all her paperwork. “Someone will escort you down.”
Julia bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from screaming. She had to remain sane and calm at all times or else she’d be there for a long time. The bail application had to be approved. It just had to be.
“Do you know if my belongings have arrived? My family would’ve brought some stuff down.”
“I’ll check and let you know.”
Julia doubted that. She was pretty certain she had other things on her mind, like screening the next woman off the truck to make sure she didn’t want to kill herself. The property of a newly received inmate was low on her list of her priorities.
She was escorted down to the MPU by Collins. Silverwater Women’s was such a weird space. Old early twentieth century buildings with modern ugly buildings. Once it was the main jail for all women but now it was just a reception jail and a jail for the disturbed. Everyone else was shipped out to Dillwynia at Windsor or Emu Plains. If they were really unlucky they were sent to Wellington. She shivered. If the bail application wasn’t successful, that could happen to her.
The MPU was a low red brick wing behind a wire fence away from the rest of the jail.
“Don’t worry,” Collins said. “They’re all locked in for the night. They’ll tuck you in soon enough. Should be some sandwiches there for your dinner.”
At the mention of food, Julia realized she was ravenous. She hadn’t eaten anything all day.
When she entered the wing, the noise hit her like a fist. Even though most of the women were locked into their cells, they still called to each other, screamed, laughed, and generally made as much noise as they could. It wouldn’t last at this level. Soon they’d settle down, but all through the long night there would be one or two who would yell and scream, tormented by their devils.
But that wasn’t what made her heart leap to her throat. A small, blonde man was standing at the high bench that surrounded the officer station, writing in a file. Dr. Devlin. She wanted to throw her arms around him and beg him to help her. He looked up and did a double take.
“Jules. What on earth are you doing here?”
“Bad luck,” she croaked, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s a long story.”
Dr. Devlin glanced at the PO behind the officer station. “I need to talk to her now. I know it’s late, but this is important.”
“Sure, doc. No worries. Take one of the interview rooms.”
Dr. Devlin scooped up his files and motioned to one of the interview rooms off the main area.
“Can I take a sandwich and some water with me? I haven’t eaten all day.”
He nodded and Julia grabbed the package of food. Only a few hours and she was right back in it, obsessed about food and when it would arrive.
She sat at the table with Dr Devlin opposite her.
“What happened?” he asked.
And then it all came out. Everything. All her lies, evasions, and bad judgement. She gulped down her food and in between bites and swigging her water she told him the truth about Father Pat, about Angus O’Reardon, even about Dylan.
All the way down the mountain in that metal container, she’d resolutely thrust all thought of him out of her mind. If she allowed herself to think about him and what was between them, she really would go mad. But now with Dr. Devlin she couldn’t keep it back. Couldn’t hide how much she cared for Dylan, what had grown between them.
Dr. Devlin listened to her and grew paler and paler.
“You don’t think I’m mad do you?” she asked, a sudden spike of anxiety piercing her chest. “I’m telling you the truth.”
He shook his head. “No, I believe you. It’s too fantastic not to be true. Why on earth didn’t you tell me the truth all those years ago? I could’ve done something.”
She placed her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hand
s massaging her temples. Then she sat back in her chair. “I thought for ages that if I told anyone Blossom could still be removed and go to jail. Then, after I realized that wouldn’t happen, I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”
“Jules.” The look of compassion on his face undid her. She sobbed as she’d never let herself cry before.
He scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed. “Okay. This is what we’ll do. You’ll stay here tonight. It’s the best option. I know it’s awful, but if what you say about O’Reardon and drug smuggling is true, then you’re much more at risk in the main. Here, everyone is watched so much it would be much harder to do anything to you. I’ll ring your mom as soon as I get out of here and find out where the bail application is up to. Who did you say the psychiatrist was who’s seeing Blossom? I’ll talk to him about doing a report.”
“Sinclair. Douglas Sinclair.”
Dr. Devlin stilled. “Blossom’s seeing Douglas Sinclair?”
Julia nodded.
“No matter. I can find someone else to do a court report.”
“Why? What’s wrong? Why can’t you use him?”
Devlin hesitated. “He’s had some trouble in the past. When you get out of here, I’d suggest you find another psychiatrist.” The look on his face was stony.
“What did he do?”
“This is in strictest confidence.”
Julia nodded.
“He has a reputation for sleeping with his clients. There was a suggestion at one stage that one killed herself because of him. Nothing was proved, and he avoided being struck off the medical register. But I’d keep away from him if I were you.”
Something clicked into place in her mind. Eleanor’s fight with Father Pat. Her relapse. Dee’s dislike of Douglas. The earring. Even Sally.
She had to get out of here.
Chapter 26
Dylan was sitting in the corridor at the Supreme Court in Taylor Square when his phone squawked. Lifting it, he saw Dee was calling. A spike of looming disaster filled his mind.
“Hey, Dee what’s up?”
His stomach fell through the floor when she told him.