Asylum

by Amos, Gina

  Jill leaned on the partition and considered what Luke had said. ‘So, she could have been running away from someone or something when she was hit by the car?’

  ‘There’s a good chance she was.’ Luke leaned back on his chair and put his hands behind his head.

  ‘Any witnesses?’ Jill asked.

  ‘An old couple on their way home from a night out. They live in Hercules Street, not far from where it happened.’

  Jill reached over and pulled a map of the local government area for Chatswood off her partition and walked around to Luke’s workstation. She picked up a green highlighter pen from his desk and pulled the cap off with her teeth.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Luke leaned forward and looked at the map.

  ‘The old couple were on their way to their house in Hercules Street, you said?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And Lucy Fletcher. She was knocked over in Smith Street just around the corner from Douglas Avenue where David Cheung’s body was found in the boot of his car.’ Jill leaned over the map and ran the highlighter pen through the street names.

  Rawlings looked at the scale. The streets are all within a six to eight kilometre radius of each other.

  ‘What’s with all the questions? It’s not your case.’

  Jill straightened up, looked at Rawlings. ‘The boss wants me to work with you on it. It could be tied up with this Asian gang business.’

  ‘He didn’t say anything to me about it.’

  ‘Don’t be precious, Luke. I thought you’d be glad of the help.’

  Rawlings grunted. Jill leaned over and looked back at the map. ‘I wonder what the girl was doing in Smith Street? It’s a pretty isolated part of Chatswood at that time of night. And what are the odds of her being run over at almost the same time as someone was stuffing David Cheung’s body into the boot of his car?’

  ‘It could be a coincidence.’ Rawlings scratched his head, leaned over and looked at the map again.

  ‘I don’t believe in coincidences,’ Jill said. She tapped the highlighter on her teeth. ‘What did the old couple tell you? Did they get a plate?’

  ‘They said the vehicle didn’t have its headlights on and swerved a couple of times before it took off. It was too dark for them to see the license plate but they said they thought they saw something on the side of the road when they drove past, but they weren’t sure. They thought it might have been a dog, but rang triple zero when they got home just in case.’

  Jill replaced the lid on the highlighter.

  ‘Now can I get back to eating my dinner?’

  Jill looked down at the plastic container on Luke’s desk. ‘For God’s sake, Luke what is that?’

  ‘Kung Po Chicken.’ Rawlings took a mouthful. ‘It tastes better than it looks.’

  Jill hoisted her backpack over her shoulder.

  ‘Off to the gym?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, signed up at Crunch Fitness a week ago for that class you suggested. I probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow; the instructor looks like he doesn’t take prisoners.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  Jill smiled. ‘I just might need it.’

  Fifteen minutes later Jill walked into the gym class and immediately recognised the instructor she’d spoken to the previous week. He was broad-shouldered, powerful looking, with bleached blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail. Beneath the tattoos his arms were sinewy with muscle.

  Jill had enrolled in the Warrior Class, a combination of heart-pumping cardio and intense strength training. With all that had happened during the past few days, the last thing she felt like was going to the gym but she’d paid for the class up front. Besides, the workout might help her burn off steam. She hoped the kick boxing class she’d been going to would hold her in good stead.

  The room was filling up fast. Jill began with some stretches. She had one arm extended in the air when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. Rimis.

  ‘I’m going to kill you, Luke bloody Rawlings,’ she mumbled under her breath. He’d set her up. He must have known Rimis took this class. It occurred to her that she might still be able to slip away without being noticed, but it was too late. Nick Rimis was headed straight for her. A smile spread across his face as he approached her. He didn’t miss a beat.

  ‘Didn’t know you were a member of the gym, Brennan.’

  ‘I usually go to a kick boxing class closer to home.’

  ‘Well, good to see you’re taking your fitness seriously.’

  Jill blushed, felt Rimis’s eyes on her. She adjusted the waistline of her pink Lycra shorts, flicked her bra strap with a finger and moved to the back of the class. There was no way Nick Rimis was standing behind her, staring at her backside for the next forty-five minutes.

  Fifteen minutes into the training, the instructor told them to grab a medicine ball and a partner. Before Jill had a chance to team up with someone Rimis was standing in front of her with a heavy, brown leather ball in his hands and a stupid grin on his face. He was enjoying this. She rearranged her pout to a smile. There was no sense blaming Rimis, it wasn’t his idea, it had been Luke Rawlings’s suggestion that she come to this gym and this particular class. Nick Rimis. He was more than her boss, he was a friend and despite his gruff exterior she had sensed on more than one occasion he had feelings for her that went beyond the welfare of a colleague.

  When Jill arrived home to her empty apartment around eight o’clock she did her normal ritual of checking all the rooms before she took a shower. Luke Rawlings. He would have thought it was a great joke sending her off to the same gym class as Rimis. She didn’t even know Rimis went to the gym. He’d been on a health kick a while back, but it hadn’t lasted. Jill knew with the long hours, the erratic shifts and the effort it took to cook proper meals, it wasn’t always easy to keep in shape. After the gym class, Rimis had asked if she wanted to go with him for something to eat but she’d said no and opted for take-away instead.

  She put the container of Mongolian Lamb and fried rice she’d picked up on her way home into the microwave. While she waited for it to heat up, she poured herself a glass of Pinot Grigio. The dish was enough for two. It was like the take-away restaurants liked to rub in someone’s single status. Everything was made for couples. Including the bottle of wine sitting on the kitchen counter.

  She finished her glass of wine in three gulps, leaned her hip against the counter. Kevin Taggart. He was always in the background. The case had changed everything. The relationship with Nick Rimis had shifted from boss to friend. After Taggart had attacked her he’d sat by her bedside all night at the hospital. Then she thought of William Phillips. She wondered where he was now. The last she’d heard from him, he’d resigned from his job in a city law firm and had headed north with a surfboard attached to the roof racks of his Beemer. Did he ever think of her? She sighed. She’d thought they’d had something special until the night Taggart came to her apartment and ruined it all. When she was recovering in the hospital William had told her he couldn’t handle knowing every day she went to work, she might not come home. Perhaps her no-dating-cops policy was flawed. Maybe, she should face facts. The majority of men she met were cops and they were certainly more likely to understand the job than any other guy.

  She looked at the bottle of wine in front of her and poured herself another drink.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Luke Rawlings adjusted his designer tie and knocked on Rimis’s door. ‘You got a minute, boss? I thought you’d want to hear the update on David Cheung.’

  Rimis looked up from the file on his desk. ‘Sit down, Rawlings. But before you tell me what you’ve got, I want Brennan working with you on the Lucy Fletcher case.’

  ‘Yeah, Brennan told me.’

  Rimis gave a nod. ‘Brennan’s been seconded to work on Asian gangs in the Chatswood area under Scott Carver’s task force. Given Lucy Fletcher had restraint marks and taking into account her age, it’s obvious her death was a result of more than a simple hit and run. This spa
te of attacks we’ve been having looks like it’s escalating.’ Rimis scratched his head and moved a pile of files to one side of his desk. ‘I’ve asked area command for extra manpower.’ Rimis looked at Rawlings. ‘Tell me what you’ve got on David Cheung.’

  ‘I went back to the Cheung’s house and spoke to the neighbours. ‘The kid, Benjamin, goes to St Pius X College. The school hasn’t heard from him or his mother.’

  ‘The family was obviously involved in something serious enough to cost David Cheung his life.’ Rimis leaned into his desk. ‘What about the neighbours in Douglas Avenue?’

  ‘There’s an old folks’ home in the street and with the eighteenth birthday party and the footy game on television I think most people were inside with the curtains drawn. The music wasn’t that loud, but loud enough for one neighbour to complain. The two uniforms that went to investigate didn’t remember seeing the car on that occasion, but because the parents weren’t home they decided to go back an hour later to check up on the kids. The party was over, and that’s when they noticed the BMW.’

  ‘Any forensics?’ Rimis asked.

  ‘The car’s been impounded and the crime-scene techs are going over it now. There wasn’t enough blood in the boot or the car to suggest he was killed in-situ. It looks like Cheung was killed elsewhere and the body dumped in the boot.’

  ‘Well, follow up on it. Let me know as soon as you’ve got something. This hit and run, the attack on Adam Lee and Cheung’s murder are all tied back to the Red Cave Gang, I’m sure of it. From this point on, all leave is cancelled. I want everyone’s full attention on this.’

  Jill was at her desk, staring at her computer screen. She was supposed to be looking at David Cheung’s file, but instead she decided to try and track Robbie’s car. She logged onto the Road and Maritime Authority website on a hunch. Robbie had sold his car. So, that was where he got the money to repay Billy Veland. Jill wasn’t sure what to make of this latest piece of information. If anything, it fuelled the idea of a man tying up loose ends.

  She was running out of motives and conspiracy theories.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Jill answered her phone. It was Katrina Andrel, the piranha.

  ‘I was hoping we could meet for coffee. I’m in Chatswood and…’

  ‘Look, if this is about Senior Constable Calloway, I’m really not interested in talking to you.’

  Jill considered hanging up when the reporter cut in.

  ‘Robbie was a friend of mine. He told me about you, the kind of person you are and I think it would be helpful if we could talk.’

  ‘You knew Robbie?’ Katrina Andrel had a reputation for being someone who went to great lengths for a story. Could she trust this woman? Was she playing her and if so, what was her angle? Was this a way to get her to talk?

  Jill rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. Was it possible Katrina Andrel actually knew why Robbie might have taken his own life?

  It was close enough to knock-off time to slip out without being noticed. Jill grabbed her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder. If Rimis ever found out she was talking to the reporter, he’d skin her alive.

  The sky was a dirty dove-grey when Jill walked out on to Archer Street. She tightened her scarf around her neck and tucked her hands into her coat pockets. The temperature was dropping fast and it was getting dark. It was only days away from the winter solstice.

  The café where she had arranged to meet Katrina Andrel was empty, apart from a group of schoolboys sitting at a table in the front section. Jill sidestepped their school backpacks and ordered a pot of lemongrass and ginger tea. She found a table facing the street, sat with her back to the wall and waited for Katrina Andrel to arrive. She sipped her tea, checked her phone.

  When the chair opposite her scraped on the polished concrete floor Jill looked up. Katrina Andrel was standing in front of her dressed in a simple poppy-red coat over a pair of denim jeans.

  Jill got to her feet and extended her hand. ‘Detective Jill Brennan.’

  ‘Katrina Andrel.’

  The waitress arrived and Katrina ordered a pot of Darjeeling. The pause gave Jill a chance to assess the woman sitting across from her. Her face betrayed nothing. Men would find her attractive, even with the heavy make-up and the bleached blonde hair.

  Jill took a sip of tea and put her cup down on the saucer. She got straight to the point. ‘Can I ask how you got my name and how you knew I had been in a relationship with Robbie Calloway?’

  Katrina gathered her coat around her and crossed her arms lightly against her chest. ‘Let’s just say a little bird.’

  Jill rolled her eyes. A little bird called Constable Patullo, no doubt. He was practically panting at the sight of Andrel.

  ‘I saw you at the scene. I asked around and I was given your name. I recognised it immediately. Robbie told me about you, about your relationship.’ She paused. ‘And it wasn’t hard to find you; it was just a matter of making a phone call.’ She leaned forward. ‘Look Jill, before we go any further you should know how much Robbie thought of you.’

  Jill knew how Robbie felt about her and she didn’t need this woman to tell her. Jill kept her face impassive and waited for Andrel to fill the silence.

  Andrel shrugged off her coat. ‘I suppose I should start at the beginning. I didn’t know Robbie that well, but even so, when I turned up last Friday night at Callan Park to cover the story it was a shock when I found out it was Robbie.’

  Jill pulled out her notebook from her shoulder bag and Katrina shifted in her seat.

  ‘You don’t mind if I take notes do you? I’ve got a shocking memory.’

  ‘I thought we might have this conversation off the record.’ Katrina curled her lip to one side and went to grab her coat.

  Jill put her notebook away and Katrina relaxed. ‘How did you and Robbie meet?’ Jill asked. ‘Strangely enough, I met him at Callan Park.’

  When Katrina’s tea arrived she added two sachets of sugar to her cup and stirred. The movement was slow and methodical. She seemed uncertain, shy almost. This was a different Katrina to the one she saw last Friday night and Jill wondered what she was playing at.

  Katrina looked up. ‘A group of protesters staged a sit-in at the Wellness Centre at Callan Park back in February. They were meeting the Minister of Planning over the state government’s decision to allow buildings earmarked for mental health services to be given over to other entities. I was sent there to report on the protest. There was a large police presence. It wasn’t just the local area command, other commands had been called in to make sure things didn’t get out of hand.’

  Katrina placed the teaspoon on the saucer and sipped her tea. ‘Robbie spoke to the camera crew and to me. Told us to tread lightly because tempers were running hot. We talked for a while, he flirted with me, I gave him my card and a few days later he phoned and invited me out. We had a lot in common. We weren’t lovers or anything, we were just friends, but I had hoped we might…’ Katrina riffled through her purse and pulled out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes with it. ‘He told me his sister has mental health issues. Perhaps that would explain his attraction to Callan Park.’

  Robbie had never told Jill about Fin’s mental state, but maybe he wanted to keep it to himself. People were like icebergs. Nobody really knew what lay beneath the surface of another person’s life, what parts of them they chose to keep hidden from public view. Before Jill had gone to see Fin, she had no idea she was mentally ill. Fin must have functioned well enough, because Robbie had mentioned she had some sort of a job in sales.

  ‘Did you know Robbie had moved from his Collaroy apartment?’ Jill asked.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ Andrel’s eyes fixed on Jill. ‘I wonder why he didn’t tell me. Why he chose not to.’

  Jill let Katrina Andrel sit with the news a bit and then said, ‘So, tell me, when was the last time you saw him?’

  ‘The Tuesday before he died. We met for drinks. He was agitated and when I asked him about it he said things we
re happening in his life, personal things, and that they were intruding on his work. He’d asked his boss for time off, but he wouldn’t give it to him — they were short staffed and had a blow-out of their case load.’

  Jill frowned. ‘What sort of things? Did he say?’

  ‘That’s just it, Jill. He never told me. I can call you Jill, can’t I? Or should I call you Detective?’

  Jill resisted pointing out that Andrel had already called her Jill a couple of times. She forced a smile. ‘No, Jill’s fine. Did he ever mention any cases he was working on?’

  ‘Sometimes, but not until they were reported in the news. He was very careful about what he said to me and I was careful not to compromise his position as a police officer.’

  Sounded like Robbie.

  Katrina leaned forward. ‘There’s something not quite right, don’t you think? You can sense it too, I can tell. You wouldn’t be asking me quite so many questions if you thought Robbie had simply killed himself.’

  Jill wasn’t about to confide in a journalist who she’d just met and besides, she knew Katrina Andrel’s reputation for hunting down a story. ‘What were your impressions of Robbie during the time you knew him? You must be very good at summing people up. Journalists have a way of getting people to talk.’ Perhaps Katrina could shed some light on Robbie’s more recent past, a chunk of his life that was elusive to Jill.

  ‘I wouldn’t say he was unhappy. Robbie lived for his work and on the surface he was always cheerful, always the joker. And as you’d know, he never had a bad word to say about anybody.’ She stared into her cup, looked up. ‘Deep down, I think Robbie was a man who was carrying a burden. I thought it might have been his sister. He told me she was drinking heavily. He tried to get her to go to AA or see a counsellor, but she refused.’ Katrina toyed with the handle of her cup. ‘But I could be wrong; it could have been something else entirely. But whatever was troubling him, he didn’t want to share it with anybody.’