Asylum

by Amos, Gina

  ‘I take my job seriously, Inspector, I can’t afford distractions. When I’m at work, I work.’

  Rimis swirled his wine, dived in. ‘Am I a distraction, Doctor Ross?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes, you are.’

  Rimis emptied his glass and put it aside.

  ‘A top up?’

  Rimis nodded and leaned into the bar. ‘So then, tell me something about yourself apart from being a Scorpio. I already know you’re a South African doctor who takes her work seriously.’

  Greer filled his glass. Her long hair swung forward and she brushed it back with her fingertips. ‘I’m the eldest of two girls, born and raised in Cape Town. Mother English, father, South African doctor of Indian extract. I studied at the University of The Western Cape and ended up working as a forensic pathologist with the Western Cape Forensic Pathology Service.’ Greer took a mouthful of wine. ‘I met an Australian mining engineer, married him, which I might add was the biggest mistake of my life. We moved to Australia and lived in Western Australia until our divorce. We went our separate ways after five years of marriage. And now, voilà here I am, living in a big city, with lots of work and no friends.’

  Rimis noticed how sad Greer looked — not that he could talk. After Fiona walked out on him, his life had become an emotional dust bowl. And now, with this baby business, he was faced with the prospect that he’d never have the package of wife, mortgage and kids. He had a hard time even remembering what it felt like to wake up in the morning with a woman by his side.

  He looked at Greer and wondered if it was the drink, but he’d never seen her look so fragile or so beautiful. Why did he find vulnerable women so attractive? He had a sudden urge to hold her in his arms and stroke her hair.

  ‘What about you, Nick, are you married?’

  ‘I was. Fiona. She was a police officer, surprise, surprise. She left the force, thought I should too. Then one day she gave me an ultimatum — the job or the marriage.’ Rimis looked at his watch. He couldn’t believe the time. It was almost 10 pm. He hadn’t meant to drink so much. ‘It’s getting late, I should go,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’ He wondered if it sounded like an excuse to her. He’d been out of the dating game for so long he didn’t know the rules anymore.

  ‘I should be going as well,’ Greer said. ‘I haven’t got my car; it’s in for a service. We can share a taxi, if you like.’

  ‘What a great idea.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The doors to the lift opened. Greer Ross led Rimis down the carpeted hall to her apartment. He stood behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder while she looked for the keys in her handbag. When the door opened, they fell into the apartment. Rimis kicked the door shut and took her in his arms. Greer collapsed against the nearest wall and felt the give of her breasts against his chest. She moaned and he kissed her hard, their tongues wet and sour from the wine.

  Greer unzipped her skirt and let it fall off her hips, then pulled her jumper over her head. Taking Rimis’s hand, she led him towards her bedroom. She turned on a reading light. Rimis stood by the foot of the bed watching her, with a look on his face that said he wasn’t sure he should even be here.

  Greer wondered how many drinks Rimis had had before she’d shown up at Otto’s but from the glow of his cheeks she knew she’d drunk considerably less than him. She wondered if the night would end in disaster. Was he even capable?

  She removed her red, lacy underwear, walked up to him and slowly, carefully she undid the buttons on his shirt, removed it, noticed a scar from a bullet wound on his right shoulder. When she touched it, he flinched. She wondered about it for a moment but decided to wait. She would ask him how he got it later.

  She ran her hands over his muscled chest, kissed the matted black chest hair showing the first signs of grey. She managed to remove his shoes and socks before he fell onto the bed. With his knees spread apart, the sight of the bulge in his trousers made her catch her breath. ‘Eish!’ she said in Afrikaans. She slid her hand down the front of his trousers while she fumbled with his belt buckle with the other.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said and reached into his trouser pocket. Greer was surprised when he pulled out four foil-wrapped packets. ‘The vending machine at Otto’s,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Got a few extra, just in case.’

  ‘Let me.’ She smiled, ripped one of the packets open with her teeth, straddled him, shivered, gazed down at him, at his mouth soft and open, eyes suddenly focused. She felt the stirring of his hunger.

  He grabbed her, rolled her onto her back, she bit his lip and he caressed her full breasts. The misery and tension of her job blurred into the background as he worked cleverly and tenderly on her. His warm, naked body was eager to please, his kisses muffled her cries, she felt herself clench. ‘Ek wil dit hard,’ she groaned. ‘Baie hard.’

  Rimis woke with a start. His head felt thick and heavy, his mouth tasted like he’d been sucking on sweaty socks all night. He slipped from the bed and after he’d been to the bathroom, he went and stood by the window. It was just before dawn. The curtains were pulled back and it was raining heavily outside, another bitter winter’s morning. There was an occasional mirror-like flash in the distance followed by a low rumbling of thunder. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gazed down at the street below. The streetlights cast glimmering shadows onto the wet bitumen, the gutters overflowed with water, the storm water drains were blocked.

  An occasional taxi whooshed along the street, headlights blazing through the misty rain. How good it felt to be standing naked in Greer Ross’s bedroom, listening to the beat of his own heart and remembering the warmth of the bed he’d just left. He looked around the room. He had other things on his mind last night and hadn’t taken much notice of Greer’s bedroom. He admired her taste; the room had African elements to it. The walls were painted a vibrant red-orange and the bedspread matched the wall colour. Two zebra-print pillows had fallen onto the floor during the night.

  He studied the sensuous curve of Greer’s spine, her smooth dusky skin, her thick hair spread across the pillow. There was something deeply sensuous about the contrast of the colour of the walls and the bedspread against the silky sheen of her naked body. It was wild and exotic and the sight of her aroused him. He was tempted to return to her bed but thought twice about it. He knew it was going to be awkward either way. Awkward if he stayed, awkward if he left without waking her. She looked so peaceful lying there, the last thing he wanted to do was wake her. He grabbed his clothes from the floor, pulled on his trousers and buttoned up his shirt. He looked at her one last time, and then quietly left her apartment.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jill lay still, listening to the silence, watching the shadow of the trees outside her bedroom window. She had been awake for hours.

  She rolled over and looked at the time on her iPhone. Six-fifteen. Normally she would’ve been at work by now, but she was on annual leave… yeah, right. She buried her head in the covers. It had been another agonising night of fitful sleep, guilt and loss. At least she hadn’t woken this morning from one of her nightmares. She rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom.

  She stood in front of the mirror and examined her body. Six days since Robbie’s death and the weight had fallen off her like melting snow. Yesterday she’d renewed her membership at the local gym, had taken up running again, something she’d let go when she’d started working double shifts. She was hoping to build muscle and improve her physical strength, and who knew, the exercise might help lift her mood.

  Jill loved her job but there were times when she dreamed about escaping the life she’d built for herself. What was it her father used to say to her? You could run away from bad situations but not from who you were.

  Perhaps he was right to have objected to her joining the force. Had he seen something lacking in her? A trait perhaps, a trait needed to cope with the violence and death she witnessed as a police detective? She sighed. If only Mickey
was still alive. If only she had a mother who she could seek comfort from, talk to about how she was feeling. Too many ‘ifs and onlys.’

  With a week’s leave ahead of her she’d already decided she wasn’t going to be idle and sit around the apartment moping. Last night she’d gone onto the Sydney Morning Herald’s web site and checked their archives and found the story Katrina Andrel had written on the protest at Callan Park.

  This morning she would get back to her habit of beginning each day with a run to the beach, and then home for a shower. And after breakfast, she’d sit in front of her laptop and do some background searches on Robbie’s family. Then, if she was in the mood, she’d listen to her Spanish CDs and practice getting her accent right. So much had happened this past week — Asian gangs, Robbie’s death, the increase in the station’s case loads, Lucy Fletcher, David Cheung’s murder and the sudden disappearance of his family.

  She wasn’t looking forward to speaking to the police counsellor. After she’d recovered physically from her ordeal with Kevin Taggart she’d been sent to see her. And now, less than six months later, she would be seeing her again.

  She closed her eyes for a minute and asked herself how she would perform this time around when her feelings were under scrutiny? She found herself questioning her judgement. What if Robbie really did commit suicide? It would have all been for nothing.

  Jill poured herself a glass of water and returned to her bedroom to get dressed. It had been raining earlier but for now there was a break in the weather. She grabbed her track pants from the corner of the room and found her fleece, running shoes and socks under her bed. She tied her hair up in a high ponytail, grabbed her keys, deadlocked the front door on her way out and ran down the two flights of stairs. She did some stretches before she turned down the road towards Bondi Beach, warming up first with a jog. The streets were wet and deserted; it was still dark and the sun wasn’t due to show itself for at least another fifteen minutes.

  Jill had been running steadily for twenty minutes before she pushed herself harder, alternating jogging with short sprints. With the sun creeping over the horizon she ran along the promenade and onto the wide concrete steps to the beach. Her running shoes sank into the powdery sand and slowed her pace. Her thighs ached. When she reached the water’s edge, she stopped, caught her breath and looked out at the rolling surf, remembering how she and her father had often come down here to surf. She sighed. It was the beginning of another day. There must have been winter days by the beach with her father but she couldn’t remember them, she only remembered the sun, the sand and the surf. She walked along the tide line, stopping occasionally to pick up a shell or a pebble. There was no wind and the water slid onto the beach, the waves barely breaking. If only her life was that serene.

  TWENTY-NINE

  It was 6 am when Rimis stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He was distracted by thoughts of Greer lying naked in his arms, her glistening skin, her round, firm breasts cupped in his hands. He remembered how good she’d felt against him. What was it about her that excited him so much? Those dewy brown eyes of hers, her firm breasts or the idea that, like him, she was alone and hadn’t had sex for some time?

  He dried himself off and struggled to push all thoughts of her out of his mind. He put on a fresh shirt and tie and after he brushed his teeth he studied himself in the mirror. He was a stubborn, gruff cop, efficient at his job yet still young enough to be interesting. Truth was, he was a divorced man who wore his loneliness on his face like an empty glass on a bar. He should stop hanging around Otto’s, get out more, and take up golf. He laughed at himself: Golf?

  When he caught a glimpse of the time on the kitchen clock, he realised he needed to get a move on. He finished his coffee, surprised by how good he felt, despite a slight hangover and a sense of disappointment in himself. Nick Rimis lived his life by a set of rules. It was the only way he could do the job. But last night he broke his number one rule — never sleep with a colleague, a friend or the partner of a friend.

  By the time he arrived at the station Rimis’s head was pounding. He took a couple of paracetamol, considered taking a third. He sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head and thought of Greer. What had he been thinking sneaking out on her like that this morning? Or maybe that was his problem. He hadn’t been thinking at all. Shit, Rimis you’re such an idiot. He ran his hand through his hair and looked down at the pile of paperwork in front of him.

  Rimis had always worked long hours, taken the job seriously but when Fiona left he’d worked even harder, as if the extra shifts would in some way compensate for his loneliness. The upside had been his promotion from detective sergeant to detective inspector, the downside was that he’d worked himself senseless, concentrated so much on other people’s problems, there was little time left to brood on his own. He’d thought that if he was busy and dog-tired he wouldn’t mind the self-imposed celibacy. But after last night, he realised he’d been mistaken. The dam walls had broken and the desire he’d turned his back on had returned with a vengeance.

  He took a deep breath and looked down at the pile of phone messages in front of him. After he pushed them to one side, he refreshed his computer screen and looked at his emails, deleted half of them unread, and immediately felt better.

  One email he’d noticed and not deleted was from Scott Carver. Rimis liked the area commander. He was a man’s man and a good officer. He’d been fast-tracked like Brennan, had a double degree in psychology and law and had come from a family of long-serving police officers. But Scott Carver had one downfall. He was a stickler for rules and regulations — everything was by the book with Carver.

  Rimis pulled a pack of mints from his drawer and put his feet on his desk. To take his mind off his thumping headache, he thought again about how good it had been last night with Greer, but also how complicated his life had now become. There could never be a repeat performance. He looked down at his mobile phone on his desk. Twice he’d gone to ring her but had changed his mind. If it had been any woman other than Greer Ross who he’d had mind-blowing sex with, he would have called her by now and made a time to see her again, but Greer Ross wasn’t any woman. She was a colleague. Last night had been a lapse in judgement — business and pleasure didn’t mix. Fiona was a testament to that.

  What had she said about Scorpios? They never forgive or forget. It was going to be hard working with her without thinking of honey and berries and the touch of her skin under his hands. He was going crazy with the thought of her.

  A knock at the door saved him from himself, his feet fell from the desk and he sat upright in his chair. It was Jenny Choi. She was wearing another one of her ridiculous outfits. Today it was a hot pink skirt paired with a black spotted top and black stockings. He wondered if he should have a word to her about toning down her outfits, but thought better of it.

  ‘You don’t look well, boss.’

  ‘Never mind that, Choi,’ he snapped. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘It’s about Benjamin Cheung and his alleged attack on Adam Lee.’

  ‘Well out with it.’

  ‘I find it hard to believe Benjamin Cheung attacked Adam Lee, especially with a knife. I’ve been doing some digging. Benjamin’s not the type of boy to be running around in gangs or pulling knives on people.’

  ‘Maybe he’s the brains and there are other kids involved,’ Rimis said.

  ‘His teachers at St Pius didn’t paint him as the brainy type. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, I think was the term they used.’ Choi continued. ‘The family lives in Northbridge. We searched the boy’s bedroom with a relative’s permission, but didn’t find anything. And they were adamant Benjamin had nothing to do with Adam Lee’s stabbing. I also asked around the Chinese community. Nobody’s heard from either Benjamin or his mother since the night David Cheung was murdered…or if they have, they’re not talking.’

  ‘What about this girl involved in the hit and run? Lucy Fletcher,’ Rimis asked. ‘Jill was supposed to be
looking into a possible link. Don’t suppose she mentioned it to you or Rawlings before taking leave.’ Rimis tried to hide his annoyance.

  ‘Rawlings said she was looking at the location.’ Choi cleared her throat. ‘But I don’t think she got very far with it.’

  No, because she was too busy chasing dead leads on Robbie Calloway. Again, Rimis checked his anger. ‘How’s the girl doing?’

  ‘No change. She’s still in an induced coma. Her parents reported her missing a week ago. Seems there was trouble at home. She didn’t get along with the dad.’

  Rimis gave a nod. ‘Jill might be onto something with the locations. Smith Street is only a few blocks from where David Cheung and his car were found,’ Rimis said. ‘I’ll get Rawlings to look into it. I want you to go and speak to Lucy Fletcher’s parents again. See if you can find out more about what she was doing in that part of Smith Street late at night and if they think anyone might have been after her for any reason…and if there’s any explanation for those restraint marks. She might have been into something unsavoury. And speak to uniform, see if they’ve got anything further to add.’

  ‘Will do.’ Jenny stood to leave but turned around before she reached the door. ‘Jill did a good job with Adam Lee, got him to talk. He wouldn’t even look at me.’

  Must have been the pink skirt and black stockings, probably scared the kid half to death.

  ‘Yeah, Brennan’s like a dog with a bone when she latches onto something. Lee didn’t stand a chance.’

  THIRTY

  Jill took a bite from her Vegemite toast and washed it down with strong tea. The run to the beach and back had cleared her head and the self-pity she’d been feeling earlier had been replaced by anger. Nick Rimis might think she was crazy and unreliable, but she’d worked too hard for it to fall apart now. With this enforced leave, she’d dig deep and come up with the evidence to prove Robbie hadn’t taken his life.