Asylum

by Amos, Gina

  Silence.

  ‘A secret you mean?’

  ‘Yes, a secret.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Jill poured more tea into her cup and wondered if Robbie had gotten in over his head with his gambling debts. It was true, he’d paid off Billy Veland, but he could have owed money to somebody else.

  ‘What do you think he was doing at Callan Park?’ Jill asked.

  Katrina stirred her tea and stared past Jill as if thinking what to say next. ‘No idea, I’ve been wondering the same thing.’ She looked up. ‘Robbie told me his father had epilepsy or was it schizophrenia? Maybe Robbie had a fit or something. Was there anything in the autopsy report about it?’

  ‘We’re still waiting on the autopsy. Robbie’s case is low priority.’

  Katrina nodded, dabbed at her eyes with her fingers. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t believe Robbie would have taken his own life.’ Katrina leaned in as if sharing a confidence, she lowered her voice. ‘Have you considered he may have been pushed?’

  Jill was surprised, maybe even a little relieved, that someone else was following the more sinister line of thought. But she couldn’t let her guard down, not with a journo. ‘There’s nothing much I can tell you, without an autopsy report.’ Katrina Andrel could just be digging, hoping to find a story. It took a moment for Jill to compose herself. She shrugged. ‘There’s no evidence to suggest it was anything other than suicide.’ Jill changed the subject. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’

  ‘I know Robbie was worried about Fin, worried what she might do.’ Katrina Andrel paused and sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘I think he was at the end of his tether with her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Fin was depressed; drinking too much, hanging out with the wrong crowd. Robbie found out she’d lost her job. He told me he was worried there might have been something more serious going on and he’d been trying to get her help. But she’d refused.’

  ‘What exactly did he think was wrong with her?’

  ‘He didn’t say, but he told me he’d visited a few mental health sites and had been reading text books on behavioural problems.’

  ‘What about drugs? Do you think Fin or Robbie was using? He never touched them when I was with him but…’

  ‘Robbie? No, definitely not, he was scared of them. He told me he’d been tempted once…after an addict told him taking heroin was like sitting on your mother’s lap. It made you feel loved and like no one would ever hurt you.’

  Jill raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I’m not sure about Fin, though. Robbie let something slip once and I got the impression she was involved in something illegal.’

  ‘What did Robbie say?’ Jill asked.

  ‘I think it was to do with someone she was seeing.’

  Jill was surprised Katrina knew so much about the Calloways, considering she’d only known them both for a short time. A pang of jealousy hit her; it appeared Katrina Andrel knew more about Robbie’s life than she did.

  Katrina continued. ‘Robbie was outraged mentally ill people were living on the streets because of a lack of state government funding. He said Callan Park should never have closed and he couldn’t understand why the Master Plan hadn’t been approved.’ Katrina’s phone rang and she looked at the caller ID. ‘Look, I have to take this.’ She stood to leave.

  ‘One last question,’ Jill said.

  Katrina answered the call. ‘Give me a second, will you Naomi.’ She pressed hold on her phone and looked back to Jill. ‘Yes, what did you want to ask me?’ She picked up her coat and bag and placed a five-dollar note and some loose change on the table.

  Jill had decided since first meeting Katrina Andrel at Callan Park that she didn’t like the woman. Yet she had brought up the idea Robbie may have been pushed. Why? Was she an ally or was she involved in some way? She felt like saying: yes, I have considered Robbie was pushed and who’s to say you weren’t the one up there with him? But instead she decided to find out if she had an alibi.

  ‘Where were you the night Robbie died, before you turned up in the news van?’

  ‘I was meeting one of my sources.’

  ‘Can you give me a name?’

  ‘Sorry, Jill, I never reveal my sources, not even to my editor.’

  ‘Can anyone else confirm your whereabouts?’

  ‘I have no alibi, if that’s what you’re asking.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘So, you agree with me? You don’t think Robbie’s death was suicide.’ She gave Jill a satisfied smile.

  Jill kept her cool, attempted a smile. ‘No, it’s just one of those questions I have to ask. Thank you by the way. I appreciate you contacting me.’

  Katrina tugged her ear. ‘I just wanted to help in any way I could. Robbie was special.’

  Jill nodded and Katrina went back to her phone. ‘Sorry, Naomi…’ She walked out of the café, giving Jill a quick wave.

  The waitress was wiping down the next table and Jill asked her for a strong black coffee — her first for a while. She’d thought giving up caffeine would help her insomnia, but so far her abstinence had had no effect. She was also tempted to ask for a vanilla slice or one of the Portuguese tarts she liked so much, especially given she’d skipped lunch, but she resisted. While she waited for her coffee to arrive, she went over the conversation she’d just had with Katrina Andrel. There was something not quite right. What was it about the woman that unsettled her? Was it the way she swept out of the café, the fake tears at the start of their conversation? She wondered if Katrina Andrel was playing with her and decided to run a background check. She wanted to confirm her story that she’d covered the protest at Callan Park.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  After Jill left the café she drove to Manly Police Station. DI Perris had stonewalled her on the phone, but maybe a personal visit and a quiet chat with Robbie’s partner would be more fruitful. Unfortunately, she’d been dead wrong. The whole team was out on jobs and no one else was talking. It had been a long shot. A long shot that hadn’t paid off, and if her visit got back to Rimis…

  Jill returned to Chatswood station in time to see two uniforms wrestling with a handcuffed youth in jeans and a grey hoodie. Jill stood back, opened the door for them, and made a quick side step to avoid being kicked.

  ‘Sorry,’ said one of the constables.

  Jill walked up the stairs behind them and when she got to the detectives’ room she swiped her security card, walked in and threw her shoulder bag on her desk. She sat down in her chair, picked up a pen and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. The drive back from Manly had taken longer than she’d expected. With the opening of the Spit Bridge it had added fifteen minutes to the trip.

  Rawlings had been on the phone when she’d walked in. When he ended his call he leaned his elbow on the workstation divider. ‘The boss has been looking for you. Wants you in his office ASAP.’

  Jill sighed and threw her pen on the desk.

  ‘What’s up, Brennan?’ Luke said. ‘You look beat.’

  Jill didn’t realise her lack of sleep showed. ‘Got a few things on my mind, Luke.’ She looked at her phone messages.

  ‘It’s not Robbie Calloway, is it?’

  She shot him a look. ‘Mind your business.’

  ‘If it is Calloway, a word of advice.’

  ‘I don’t need your advice, Luke.’ Jill was still mad at him because of the business with Rimis and the gym.

  ‘Well, like it or not I’m going to give it to you anyway. My gut says this is political. Land grabs, developers, and shady politicians, that sort of thing. Everyone knows how valuable Callan Park is as a re-development site. Sixty-six acres of prime riverfront land. Mighty valuable real estate no matter what you think of land developers. And the state government still hasn’t approved the Master Plan for the site. Could explain why that reporter Katrina Andrel is sniffing around and why the boss and the DCI have warned you off. If you keep poking your nose in where it shouldn’t be, you might find something you weren’t exp
ecting. Might even affect your career.’

  Jill wondered if there was any merit in what Rawlings was saying. If you ignored his ego, she had to admit he was a good officer. ‘Thanks for the advice as always, Luke.’ Jill winked. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’

  ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  She didn’t have much time for Rawlings, but she had heard what he was trying to tell her. And she remembered the words of warning she’d received from Rimis and Scott Carver well enough to know she probably risked a formal reprimand by going against direct orders from a detective inspector and an area commander.

  Jill walked out of the room and headed down the corridor to Rimis’s office. Was it her imagination or was everyone looking at her? Choi lowered her eyes when she passed her in the corridor outside Rimis’s office.

  Jill found herself standing outside Rimis’s door. It was closed. She heard muted voices. She knocked.

  Rimis called her in. ‘Come in Detective and close the door.’ He’d called her Detective. This was serious. Jill sat down.

  ‘Scott Carver phoned me. We’re both concerned about the obsession you seemed to have developed over the death of Robbie Calloway.’

  Obsessed with Robbie? Of course she was obsessed.

  She met Rimis’s gaze. Someone killed Robbie, pushed him from that tower and I’m going to find out who that person is, no matter what the consequences.

  ‘You’re supposed to be working the Asian gangs, but instead Choi is run ragged doing your work and hers. And where the hell have you been?’

  She gulped. ‘I went to Manly. I wanted to see if I could talk to some of the detectives who knew Robbie. I thought they might be able to tell me if…’

  ‘Shit, Brennan. Is this how you behave after Carver handpicked you and Choi to work on the task force into Asian gangs? And I know you went to Manly because DI Perris spotted you. Instead of coming to me, he phoned the Commissioner’s office. Everyone, including you, knows the Commissioner’s directive for silence on Calloway’s suicide. He’s being pressured by the Premier to keep a low profile on PTSD.’

  Jill sat down and crossed her arms. Her world was about to change because of a single phone call.

  There was a tense silence for a moment. Rimis took another tack. ‘Your failure to accept the evidence that suggests Calloway committed suicide is something that surprises me. You’re acting irrationally, you seemed to have lost all sense of reason.’ Rimis ran his hand over the back of his neck. ‘Both Carver and I have warned you, keep going the way you are and you could find yourself back in uniform.’

  Jill froze.

  Rimis looked at her. ‘You’ve got twenty-six days’ annual leave owing and I want you take a week’s leave. Go away somewhere, rest, sleep, go for walks. Read a book or ten.’ He paused, still holding her gaze. ‘And before you come back, I want you to undertake a full mental assessment to make sure you’re fit to perform your duties.’

  What did Rimis just say? A mental assessment? He thinks I’m crazy?

  Jill expected a reprimand, but not this. So this is how her career trajectory was to end? All the hard work, the sacrifices for it to end back in uniform or stuck behind a desk somewhere in a corner next to a steel, three-door filing cabinet. Jill felt the hot sting behind her eyes. Her obsession with Robbie’s death may cost not only her reputation but she could risk the only thing that mattered to her: her job as a detective.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Most nights Otto’s Bar was full of staff from the morgue and cops who worked close-by or were on their way home, but tonight is was quiet. Rimis had had a stressful day, no thanks to Jill Brennan. He was still fuming over her refusal to listen to reason over Robbie Calloway’s suicide. And the news about Fiona and this baby business had put him in a bad mood all week. He ordered another glass of wine, put all thoughts of Jill Brennan aside and thought about his ex-wife instead. When Fiona had left him it had come out of the blue. Why were husbands always the last to know? He had no idea she’d been so miserable. Women. He should be happy for her; after all, now she had the life she’d always dreamt of. Nice home, doting husband and the baby she and Rimis had talked about but never got around to having.

  What sort of father would he have made, anyway? Lousy. Shift work, callouts during the night. No, he’d made his decision. Just him from now on, him and the job. It was enough. He finished his third glass of wine and returned to the newspaper article he’d been reading before thoughts of Fiona and the baby had sidetracked him. A Queensland man had reported his wife missing and when questioned by the police about the scratches on his face, he’d told them he’d cut himself shaving with a blunt razor blade, not once, but three times.

  Rimis shook his head. ‘Must think we’re a bunch of idiots.’

  ‘It’s never a good idea to drink alone, even worse when you’re caught talking out loud to yourself.’

  Rimis swivelled around on the barstool. It was Greer Ross. He stood up and grabbed his coat from the stool next to him. He noticed her clothing. She was dressed in a knee-length skirt and a jumper that emphasised her full figure. ‘You look nice,’ he said, regretting the remark almost immediately. Greer Ross had the habit of giving him a frosty reception whenever they met during the course of their work. She may have considered it a sexist comment. He looked at the stubborn set of her chin and was relieved when she smiled.

  Greer sat down on the stool next to him. She leaned into the bar and crossed her legs.

  The perfume she was wearing reminded Rimis of honey and berries. ‘I haven’t seen you in here before,’ Rimis said.

  ‘I’ve had a particularly bad day. Actually, make that days. I felt like a drink before I went home to an empty apartment.’

  Rimis raised his eyebrows. Greer Ross was an attractive, intelligent woman and even without a wedding ring on her finger he was surprised there wasn’t someone waiting for her at home. While he had just entered his forties he guessed she was well into her thirties.

  ‘I know that feeling.’ Rimis caught the bartender’s eye. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘A glass of Shiraz would be nice.’

  ‘I think we deserve a bottle, don’t you?’ Rimis had already decided to take a taxi home, pick the car up in the morning. He ordered a bottle of 2011 Hunter Valley Shiraz and when he turned back to her, he noticed her studying him. ‘What?’

  ‘What did you mean by you know that feeling? A bad day or going home to an empty apartment?’

  ‘Both, I suppose,’ Rimis said.

  A few moments later, the bartender set down the bottle and two wine glasses in front of Rimis. Rimis looked at the label and poured. He swirled the wine and raised his glass. ‘Cheers.’ He wasn’t sure what he was toasting to.

  ‘Cheers.’

  Rimis realised this was the first time they’d spoken to each other in a social situation. Each time they met, a silent partner was present. A permanently silent partner.

  Rimis found himself staring at Greer over the top of his glass. Her glossy dark hair was pulled back with a clip. It cascaded down her shoulders and back. ‘Don’t know how you do the job you do,’ he said.

  ‘We’re even. I don’t know how you do your job.’ She raised her glass to him and took another mouthful of wine.

  Rimis’s stomach was complaining, growling for food. He leant over and grabbed a bowl filled with mixed nuts. If he had any sense he’d head home, now. He was about to make his excuses to Greer when she asked him what his zodiac sign was.

  He cocked his head to one side and looked at her. ‘Taurus, why?’

  ‘My mother’s an astrologist. She also reads palms.’

  Rimis laughed. ‘You’re kidding me?’

  ‘No, I’m not kidding and why are you laughing? My mother takes her work very seriously and a lot of her predictions about people are spot on.’

  ‘Next, you’ll be telling me you’ve got a voodoo doll in your handbag and you’re about to stick pins into me.’

  ‘You’re ma
king fun of me now.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  Greer raised her eyebrows.

  ‘You’re an extremely interesting person, Greer Ross. I find you very attractive.’ Rimis felt the lump in his throat. He should never drink on any empty stomach. Makes you say stupid things. He got to his feet, took a few more sips from his glass and placed it on the bar. ‘Sorry.’ He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed by his sudden outpouring of emotion. ‘See you later.’ He turned to leave but she grabbed his arm.

  ‘I’m a Scorpio,’ she said.

  Rimis met her eyes, hesitated, but then sat back down again. ‘Tell me about Scorpios,’ he said with renewed interest.

  She let go of his arm and rested her hand on the stem of her glass. ‘You really want to know?’

  ‘Of course.’ Rimis was more than a little interested in what Greer had to say about herself, the detective’s curiosity was rising to the surface, the part of his personality that needed to solve riddles and uncover secrets.

  ‘Passion, desire, power. I’d say that sums Scorpios up pretty well.’

  Rimis wondered if there was something in this astrology business, after all. He moved his stool a little closer to Greer.

  ‘The biggest challenge in life for Scorpios is choosing between the power of love and the love of power. They wear a mask and say ‘no’ when they really mean, ‘yes.’ When they find true love they can be the most faithful of all partners, but fall out with a Scorpio; watch out, they never forgive or forget.’

  ‘Never forgive or forget, hey? Scary.’

  Greer slipped her hand onto his thigh.

  Rimis made no attempt to move it. ‘I’m surprised you’re sitting here talking to me. I had a feeling you didn’t like me very much.’