Asylum

by Amos, Gina

  ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’

  ‘Grace Calloway had a son from a previous marriage.’

  ‘Brennan, this is all very interesting but —’

  ‘You’ll never guess who the son was?’ Jill didn’t wait for Rimis to answer. ‘Patrick Hill,’ she said.

  Silence. Then, ‘Go on.’

  At last, she had his attention. ‘I told you Grace Calloway died recently. I’m trying to track down her solicitor to find out what was in her will, who the beneficiaries were and what sort of estate she left. I’m guessing the beneficiaries were Robbie and Fin. According to Maureen Hardcastle —’

  ‘Who the bloody hell is Maureen Hardcastle?’

  ‘She’s the ex-neighbour. I went to visit her. She lives in a nursing home in Katoomba. She was a bit cagey at first, wouldn’t let on too much about the family and said Grace Calloway had made her promise to keep the family secrets. When I got home and made the Patrick Hill connection I rang the nursing home and got her to talk.’

  ‘And how did you manage that? Or shouldn’t I ask.’

  ‘You don’t need to know the details, but let’s just say she was willing to tell me everything she knew after I had a few stern words with her.’

  ‘So, what was the Calloway family secret?’ Rimis asked.

  ‘Patrick Hill sexually abused Fin when she was a child. He was also the driver of the car that killed Fin and Robbie’s parents. Grace covered up for him and he was never charged. When he moved away from Katoomba he changed his name from Reilly to Hill. For obvious reasons he didn’t want Robbie or Fin to find him, or anyone else for that matter.’

  Silence.

  ‘You there, boss?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m here. I was thinking.’

  ‘Robbie’s death has something to do with Patrick Hill. I’m certain of it. This could explain why Robbie moved to Glover Street. Somehow he finds out where Patrick is living and practically moves in next-door. And then who finds Robbie’s body in Callan Park?’

  ‘Patrick Hill,’ Rimis said.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘I think we might need to pay Mr Hill a visit. Why don’t you come into the station tomorrow? You and Rawlings can go and see him together. I don’t want you going on your own.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll come in early, it will be a good chance to clear my in-tray before we go to see Patrick Hill.’ Jill ended the call and punched the air with her fist.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  It was 6.30 am. Jill found a parking space in the station car park and was about to turn the engine off when she saw Rimis running towards her. She pressed the passenger window release button.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  Rimis got into the passenger seat and yanked at his seatbelt. ‘Drive.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Jill put the car into reverse, sending droplets of dew dribbling down the windscreen.

  ‘Callan Park.’ Rimis folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Jill drove out of the station car park, slamming Rimis back into the seat and headrest, siren and lights flashing. She flicked the indicator on and turned left at the traffic lights on Archer Street and headed towards Mowbray Road.

  Rimis gave her a sideward glance. ‘There’s just been a call to triple zero. A kid’s found a body by the tower at Callan Park. It’s Patrick Hill.’

  A film of mist hung over the same car park Jill had driven into the night Robbie had died. With the pre-dawn light barely visible she pulled up behind a patrol car with its flashers on. A uniformed officer got out of the car ahead and walked up to the driver’s side. It was Constable Patullo. Jill powered down the window.

  ‘A bit like Groundhog Day isn’t it?’ Patullo said.

  Rimis leaned over and said. ‘What have we got?’

  Patullo wiped a drip from the end of his nose. ‘A kid on his way to work decided to take a shortcut. I bet he wishes he didn’t now. He’s in shock. The ambulance isn’t far away.’

  Rimis and Brennan unbuckled their seat belts, got out of the car and followed Patullo to the patrol car. Patullo opened the rear passenger door. The boy got out. He was wearing a plastic rain poncho, the type available at any discount store. There was an intense smell of rain, wet plastic and fear about him.

  The music from his headphones was so loud Rimis grabbed them and pulled them from his ears. The boy was jabbering, not making much sense.

  ‘Slow down, son,’ Rimis said to him. ‘Just calm yourself, take a deep breath and then you can tell me your name and what this is all about.’

  He couldn’t be more than sixteen, Jill thought.

  ‘My name’s Jordan Brandt.’

  ‘You made the emergency call, Jordan?’

  ‘Yeah. There’s a freakin’ dead body over there by the tower. He’s just sitting there, man. I thought he was asleep, but he didn’t look right. I called out to him, but he didn’t answer me. I went over to him to ask if he needed help. That’s when I saw the hole in his head.’

  ‘What time did you find him?’ Rimis asked.

  Jordan took his phone from his pocket and checked the time. His hand was shaking. ‘About fifteen minutes ago.’

  ‘Did you phone anybody else? Take photos?’ Jill asked.

  ‘No I didn’t take photos. And I only called my mum.’

  ‘Give me your phone. I don’t want you making any more calls or texting your friends,’ Jill said. ‘Or posting anything on Facebook or Twitter.’

  ‘Did you touch him?’ Rimis asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did you touch him?’

  ‘No, of course I didn’t. I knew there was nothing I could do.’ The boy’s nose was dripping. ‘I watch CSI. I know you’re not supposed to contaminate the crime scene.’

  Jill noticed the look on Rimis’s face. He wanted to smile but didn’t.

  ‘What were you doing here, anyway?’ Jill asked.

  ‘It’s a short cut. I can save myself ten minutes if I cut through the park. I catch the bus on Balmain Road to the city. I’ve got a part-time job at the Four Seasons Hotel. I’m a kitchen hand there and I should be at work now. I’m going to get the sack, I just know it.’

  ‘You’ll have to wait here,’ Rimis said. ‘We’ll have more questions for you later. And we’ll need a statement from you.’

  Jill watched Rimis as he took control of the scene. Back up and the ambulance had arrived and the uniforms were cordoning off the area with police tape.

  ‘You okay, Jordan?’ Jill asked him.

  The boy returned his earplugs to his ears and pulled up his hoodie. ‘What do you think, lady? I just found a dead body, didn’t I?’

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Rimis turned up the collar of his jacket and with Brennan by his side they made their way across the frost-whitened grass to the tower. They recognised the victim immediately.

  ‘A coincidence?’

  ‘Seems unlikely,’ Rimis said.

  Patrick Hill was in a sitting position with his back against the wall next to the tower door. His head lolled against his chest, his thin legs splayed out in front of him. He was soaked through; his hair plastered flat to his skull, a yellow beanie lay on the ground next to him. Rimis blew into his hands. When he looked up he saw Greer Ross striding towards them.

  ‘What is it about this place?’ Doctor Ross called. ‘Two deaths in the same location, less than a week apart?’

  Rimis and Brennan stepped aside to make room for Doctor Ross to examine the body.

  ‘You didn’t waste any time getting here,’ Rimis said.

  ‘I was already in the car on my way to work when I got the call.’

  Rimis thought Patrick Hill could have been asleep if it wasn’t for his ashen pallor and the bullet hole between the eyes.

  Greer began her examination. ‘No powder burns, absence of stippling. He was shot at close range, possibly post-mortem.’

  ‘Post-mortem?’

  Doctor Ross gave a nod to Rimis. ‘Doesn’t appear to be
any bleeding from the head wound. I won’t know for sure if it occurred post-mortem until I open him up, but at this stage it looks that way.’ She examined the back of his head. ‘No exit wound. The skull feels intact, the scalp unbroken.’ She continued her external examination.

  Rimis’s hand cupped his chin. He looked down at Patrick Hill. ‘I think the body was staged. What do you think, Greer?’

  Brennan looked at Rimis. She’d never heard him call Doctor Ross by her first name.

  ‘Give me a minute, Nick. Let me catch my breath and gather my thoughts.’

  And she called him, Nick, not Inspector. Jill looked at them both and wondered if there was something going on between them.

  There was a moment of silence.

  ‘I think you’re right. The body is too symmetrical,’ Greer said.

  Rimis shuffled his feet and crossed his arms, watching while Greer pulled up the legs of Patrick Hill’s tracksuit.

  ‘What is it?’ Rimis asked.

  ‘Dependent lividity. The lower part of his body is mottled from blood pooling. Take a look.’ She pointed to Hill’s legs.

  ‘So he died in that position.’

  ‘Looks like it. I’ll know more when I get him on the table.’ Greer peered into Patrick Hill’s mouth. ‘What’s this?’ She picked out a white feather with the tips of her gloved fingers.

  Brennan pulled out a plastic evidence bag from her pocket. ‘Boss, it looks like the same type of feather Phil Hammond found in the tower the night Robbie died.’

  ‘Where the hell is the police photographer?’ Greer snapped. ‘He should have been here by now. We need photos.’

  Rimis looked at his watch. ‘Peak hour.’

  Fifteen minutes later, the police photographer arrived. ‘Sorry, guys, the traffic’s a nightmare.’ He walked around the body, careful not to contaminate the scene before he crouched down and took a close-up shot of Patrick Hill’s face.

  ‘The media are going to have a field day once they catch wind of this, if they haven’t already,’ Rimis said.

  ‘I was rostered on to do Robbie’s autopsy this morning…until I got your call. I’ll see if I can have Patrick Hill put on the priority list. And before you ask me, time of death, best guess, between seven and midnight last night based on rigor and body temp.’

  Rimis looked at Brennan. ‘Didn’t he normally walk his dog around nine-thirty?’

  ‘Yep,’ Jill said. ‘Speaking of Brian, isn’t that him over there?’

  Everyone turned around.

  ‘Brennan, go and fetch the dog will you?’

  ‘But, boss, I’m not really a dog person, I —’

  ‘Brennan, get the dog.’

  Brian was about twenty metres away. He’d just popped his head up from a thick hedge of ivy and barked, as if on cue. When Jill walked over to him he was on his belly, paws outstretched in front of him. His white coat was covered in a thick layer of mud. Brennan untangled his lead. Brian stood up, wagged his tail and licked her hand.

  ‘What are we going to do with him?’ Jill said when she walked back to Rimis.

  ‘Go and talk to Mr Hill’s neighbour, take Brian with you. Maybe the neighbour will take the dog or at least look after him for the time being. We need to get a hold of Fin Calloway. She’d be his next of kin I’m guessing.’

  ‘If only Brian could speak, we’d have two deaths solved by now,’ Jill said before she walked off and left Rimis and Greer Ross to it.

  Rimis checked to see if anybody was listening before he caught Greer gently by the arm. It was the lightest of touches. ‘Look, Greer, I wanted to speak to you about…what happened between us. I…’

  ‘It’s all right, Nick you don’t have to say anything.’

  ‘I want to apologise for taking off the way I did. I guess I panicked.’

  ‘Nick, I had a bad day, you had a bad day. It’s all back to business now, right?’

  Rimis thought he heard a hint of regret in her voice. Regret for what they’d shared, or regret that it would never be repeated?

  ‘I’ll let you know if we can prioritise the autopsies.’ She gave him a smile and turned away.

  Rimis watched her walk back towards the car park. Perhaps he was taking what had happened between them too seriously. What would be the harm in seeing her again?

  About five minutes later Patrick Hill’s body was taken away.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Fin rubbed her face and pressed her fingers against her eyelids. She had to think for a moment before she remembered where she was. Katoomba. Today she was going to finish packing the last of Gracie’s possessions then she’d go and speak to one of the local real estate agents about selling the house. She’d pestered Robbie to do something about selling the house at Gracie’s funeral but he’d said he was busy and couldn’t afford the time. Busy with what?

  The curtains were drawn but through the cracks she could tell it was morning. Fin checked her watch — 6.30 am. She threw back the bedclothes, took a deep breath and tried to steady her heartbeat. Something wasn’t right. She looked at what she was wearing. Why was she still dressed in last night’s clothes? She looked across at her shoes by the bedroom door — wet and muddied. Something’s wrong. Something bad has happened.

  Fin got out of bed and caught herself in the full-length mirror on the oak wardrobe. Mascara smears trailed across her cheeks. Her face was pale and drawn. Where had she been last night? She grabbed her handbag from the bedside table. Her purse was still there and so were her credit cards and a fifty-dollar note. She searched for her phone and found it under her pillow. She had three missed calls. No caller ID for any of them. She checked her voicemail.

  Adam had left a message at eleven-twenty last night. He was shouting. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you, Fin? I can’t believe what just happened. Just stay away from me. Don’t phone me and don’t come around to the restaurant looking for me. For Christ’s sake, you have to stop drinking. It’s caused enough trouble.’

  What trouble? Was he talking about her losing her job? Or something else? Robbie had been worried about her drinking and blackouts, too. Fin didn’t think she’d been drinking that much, at least not enough to cause her to blackout. Where was she last night? What had she done? She sank back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

  She had no memory of the night Robbie died, either. What if she’d been there? Maybe they had a fight. Could she have pushed him? Bile rose and she forced it back down again. She remembered the wet and muddy clothes on the floor when the police had come to her apartment. Once again her muddy shoes told a story, but what? The last thing she remembered was driving down the highway to the Alexandria Hotel, about an hour after she’d checked in. She’d suddenly had to escape the confines of her room. At the Alexandria, a live band had been playing. She’d a few drinks and…

  Fin walked up the steps to the front door of Robbie’s cottage and unlocked the door with her spare key. She sat down on the sofa and looked around the sitting room.

  It was dark outside. She checked the breech of Robbie’s gun, tucked it into the waistband of her jeans. She didn’t know how she’d got Robbie’s gun from the metal box where he kept it, but she’d found it in her bedside drawer the morning after his death and she’d been hiding it ever since. Robbie had brought the gun home after work to use on Patrick Hill to show him Robbie meant business.

  Fin turned the television set on, sat down on the sofa and waited.

  The alarm beeped on her watch. It was time to go. She locked the cottage, crossed the park and walked towards the clock tower. She thought it strange that the clock tower had been built without a clock; perhaps the patients hadn’t wanted to be reminded of lost time.

  Fin followed the path through to the courtyard and stood in the shadows. A dog barked and she knew Patrick Hill was close. She reached into her backpack and removed a small, wispy feather from a box. She held it tightly between her fingertips.

  ‘It’s a terrible night to be out,’ Patrick Hill said.

/>   The leaves on the nearby trees shook on their branches. A quarter moon was rising and she could just make out his features. She wanted to run at him, end it now, but she’d waited for this moment for too long, planned everything so perfectly, to ruin it now by her impatience.

  ‘I want to talk to you, Fin. Set it right between us,’ Patrick said. ‘It’s been a long time since I saw you. I think you were fourteen when I left. You probably don’t believe me, but I’m sorry.’

  Sorry? Is that all you can say? After what you did to my family and me.

  ‘You must think I ruined your life. And if I was in any way responsible for what happened to Robbie, I promise I’ll make it up to you.’

  Fin was silent. How could he possibly make up for the loss of her family?

  ‘It’s too late for Robbie, but not for you. With the money you’ll get from your grandmother’s and Robbie’s estates, I can help you invest it. I wanted to talk to you about some ideas I’ve got.’

  Fin didn’t answer. She didn’t want to spoil the surprise she had waiting for him.

  ‘I want to try to set things right between us.’ He shifted from foot to foot. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately, especially now Robbie’s gone,’ he said. ‘I think we can be family again, just like the old days.’

  The old days? Fin shuddered.

  ‘The key,’ Fin said in a voice that was not her own. She pulled the hood of her navy rain jacket further down over her eyes.

  Patrick searched for the key on his key ring. ‘Here it is.’ His hand shook when he handed it to her.

  ‘Can’t we talk here?’ Patrick asked. ‘Why do we have to go up the tower? I’m not a young man.’

  Fin didn’t reply. The key turned smoothly in the lock; she handed the keys back to him and pushed against the door.

  ‘Wait,’ he said.

  Fin ignored him and started climbing the stairs. Stopped.

  ‘Fin, wait. Please.’