Asylum

by Amos, Gina

  ‘Patrick… Patrick Hill.’

  Adam turned the volume up and watched while the news camera panned Callan Park, then the camera moved in for a close-up shot of the clock tower. A woman reporter was talking about the body that had been discovered earlier that morning — Patrick Hill, a sixty-eight-year-old man who lived in Glover Street across from the Park. He was described as a retired businessman and the person whose dog had discovered a police officer’s body at Callan Park a week ago.

  A photo of Patrick Hill flashed onto the screen, followed by Robbie Calloway in his police dress uniform. Mention was made of the deaths happening in the same location. They said nothing about Patrick being shot, only that he had died from a heart attack. Adam wondered what the police were playing at. All he could think of was what he knew from the police crime shows he watched on television, the investigators often held back information to eliminate crank suspects from admitting to a crime they hadn’t committed.

  Adam was relying on Fin to incriminate herself. Her drinking was out of control and he knew she’d been having blackouts. She certainly had a motive to kill Hill. If it came out Hill had abused Fin when she was a child, the police would be looking at her, for sure.

  Adam tried to remember if there was anything he’d overlooked but he was confident there was no evidence to link him to the deaths of either Robbie or Patrick, apart from Robbie’s gun. He put his magazine down and thought about the Gweilo female detective who’d come to see him in the hospital after the attack at the Interchange. This was the worst part; wondering if she was smart enough to work it out. When Fin had told him the detective and her brother had been friends, it had been the first piece of bad luck — he hoped his luck would hold out.

  There was a loud knock on the back door.

  Adam swung the door open. Fin was on the doorstep.

  ‘Oh, it’s you. What do you want?’ Adam stepped back into the room and Fin walked past him. ‘Geez,’ he said, ‘you look like the walking dead.’

  Fin clasped her hands. ‘It’s Uncle Patrick. He’s dead, it’s all over the news.’

  ‘Of course, he’s fucking dead. You killed him, remember?’ Adam whispered.

  ‘I did?’ Fin looked at Adam and trembled.

  ‘I was there with you. You had Robbie’s gun. I had to take it off you. Don’t you remember?’

  Fin paced the room. ‘What’s going on? Have you been lacing my stuff with something, some sort of mind-altering shit?’

  ‘Keep your voice down, will you? Someone will hear you. Anyway, the way you’ve been acting it’s got nothing to do with me.’ Adam stepped back and held up his hands in protest. ‘Promise on my dead mum’s grave.’

  Fin bit into her lip. ‘Where’s Robbie’s gun? We have to get rid of it.’

  Adam bent down on his knees and pulled it out from behind a loose brick in the wall. It was wrapped in plastic. He passed it to her.

  She stared at it but didn’t take it. ‘Get rid of it,’ she said.

  ‘I wiped it clean. Thought I’d keep it as a souvenir.’

  ‘No. It’s Robbie’s gun. I don’t want you using it.’ Fin looked away.

  ‘How did you get it anyway? Didn’t think cops took their guns home with them.’

  ‘Robbie was going to threaten Uncle Patrick with it. Robbie always told me he’d get Uncle Patrick one day. He wanted him behind bars for everything he’d done to us. He must have wanted to scare Uncle Patrick into a confession. It was only my word against his with Gracie dead.’ She stared at the gun again. ‘I can’t remember being with Uncle Patrick at the tower but I remember taking the stairs to the top. My memory’s a blank.’ Fin frowned. ‘Oh, Adam, what are we going to do?’

  He shrugged, took a swig of beer. ‘I don’t know what you’re going to do, but there’s no way I’m going down for murder. Here, take the gun.’

  Fin knocked Adam’s can of beer to the floor as she rushed from the room.

  FORTY-TWO

  Jill crossed Victoria Avenue at the traffic lights and walked into the Old Shanghai restaurant. Adam’s father, Guang Lee, owned the restaurant. Jill figured if she had to speak to Adam Lee she might as well order some food from the take-away menu.

  ‘Can I order braised chicken with cashews to take-away?’

  Jill looked at the gold money cat next to the cash register. The cat’s left paw was raised. Jenny Choi had told her the right paw invites money and good fortune while the left invites customers. Judging by the number of people in the restaurant tonight, the cat wasn’t doing its job.

  The woman handed Jill her change and passed the order through the open servery to the chef.

  ‘Is Adam about?’ Jill flashed her ID at the woman behind the counter.

  Jill saw the concerned look on the woman’s face. ‘I don’t want trouble.

  He’s out the back.’ She jerked her chin to the left. ‘Through the kitchen, first door on right.’

  The soles of Jill’s shoes stuck to the floor when she walked into the tiny kitchen. Jill nodded at the chef and stopped to watch as he ladled sauce into a large wok. He gave her a sideward glance and, as if on cue, the wok sizzled and burst into flame. Aniseed, cinnamon, garlic. The aromatic spices reminded Jill of how hungry she was.

  At the end of a narrow passage Jill walked past a fire exit and turned to the right. The door looked brand new. And cheap, maybe a Bunning’s stock item. Jill knocked and wondered what sort of reception she would get from Adam Lee now that he was on his home turf.

  No answer. Jill waited, knocked again.

  ‘Piss off, Fin. I don’t want to talk to you,’ came Adam Lee’s voice through the door.

  ‘It’s Detective Brennan from Chatswood Police.’ Jill turned the door handle and stepped into the room. She stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn’t expected Adam to be on all fours wiping the floor with his t-shirt. His upper torso, bare, a very interesting tattoo on display.

  Adam looked up at her. ‘It’s you? I thought it was someone else,’ Adam said. ‘What are you doing here?’ Adam got to his feet and grabbed a t-shirt from the grubby sofa. He turned his back on Jill and struggled to get the t-shirt over his head.

  Jill hoped the surprise wouldn’t show in her voice. ‘I was hungry, thought I’d order some Chinese take-away. Knew you lived here so…what were you doing just know? It smells like a brewery in here.’

  ‘Had an accident, spilt me beer, didn’t I.’

  Adam grabbed another can of beer from the bar fridge. He pointed the can in her direction. ‘Want one?’ He popped the top.

  Jill shook her head. ‘How’s the chest?’

  ‘Still hurts but it’s better than it was.’

  ‘Miss? Your order is ready.’

  Jill turned around. The woman who had taken her order handed Jill a bag with her take-away inside.

  ‘I added prawn chips, no charge for you.’

  Jill was shaken but hoped it didn’t show. She took the bag from the woman and thanked her. She turned back to Adam. ‘I’d better go. Glad to see you’re looking so well, Adam.’ She took a step towards the door, stopped, and turned around. ‘You thought I was Fin just now. Fin’s an unusual name.’ Jill grabbed the door handle.

  Adam ignored the comment, instead saying, ‘Enjoy your take-away.’

  Jill walked in through the front doors of Chatswood Police Station.

  ‘What are you doing here? You’re not rostered on tonight.’ The station officer leant over the counter. ‘But I see you’ve brought me my dinner. Smells, good.’

  ‘Yeah, in your dreams.’ Jill looked towards the stairs. ‘Listen, something’s come up; I have to talk to the boss. Is he in his office?’

  ‘No and you won’t find anybody else upstairs either. We’re operating on a skeleton staff. Everyone’s been called out to a house in Mowbray Road. There’s been a brawl between two teenage gangs. Five teenagers were taken to North Shore Hospital.’

  Jill hesitated, mulling over whether to log in from home to submit the report on
Adam Lee or go up to her desk. In the end the food was the decider. Better to eat it hot at her desk than re-heat it at home. ‘I need to log a report. And I’ll eat my take-away while I’m at it.’ Jill held the plastic bag up for the station officer to smell.

  The station officer shook his head.

  Jill walked up the stairs to the detectives’ room. She sat down at her desk and opened the plastic bag, crunched on a prawn chip and pulled out a fork and the container of food. She took a mouthful of chicken and logged onto her computer. Her visit to the restaurant had been a lucky break. She’d been surprised to see the tattoo, the circle with the red Chinese characters on Adam Lee’s stomach. So, Adam Lee was a member of the Red Cave Gang. He hadn’t meant for her to see it. She knew what it meant and Adam Lee knew, she knew. And Fin? Adam Lee must be the boy Katrina Andrel had told her Robbie was worried about hanging around Fin. She thought about phoning Rimis to share her discovery with him but decided it could wait until tomorrow. He would have plenty on his plate at the moment. And besides she was wrecked. If she had an early night she’d be in a better position in the morning to face whatever the day threw at her.

  She dumped the empty container in the bin and logged a report on Adam Lee. Fifteen minutes later, she shut down the computer and grabbed her shoulder bag. She pulled on her coat and prepared herself for the cold shock of the street after the warmth of the station. On her way out she said goodnight to the station officer.

  When Jill arrived back at her car, light rain was falling. Would the rain ever stop? She started the car and headed home. The road sparkled with the glare of headlights, cars whooshed by and all she could think about was getting home.

  Jill parked her car, locked it and ran through a line of puddles to the front door of her apartment block. The body corporate still hadn’t organised the security system they’d promised. She made a mental note to call her landlord tomorrow and talk to him about it.

  Jill ran her hand through her damp hair and pressed the automatic light sensor before she climbed the stairs to her apartment. All was quiet in the stairwell with no television sets blaring or lights under the doors of her neighbours’ apartments. The timed lights in the stairwell went out. She didn’t bother to switch them on again. When she reached the second floor, she froze.

  No…how could it be?

  The door to her apartment was ajar. She pulled out her gun, released the safety, held it out in front of her and pushed the door open with the tip of her boot. She identified herself, scanned the room in front of her and crept around the apartment checking each room as she went. When she walked into her bedroom, she drew a breath. ‘Police! Freeze.’

  Someone hit her from behind, grabbed her in a headlock. She twisted, tried to break free from the strong grip. The last thing Jill remembered was her attacker’s breath. It smelt of aniseed, cinnamon and garlic.

  FORTY-THREE

  The wind rattled the windows. Fin had driven straight home after she’d left Adam at the restaurant. She’d had a couple of drinks to calm her nerves and then stumbled into bed. But her mind couldn’t let go. Her hands shook even though she was lying down, and every now and again her breathing became so fast she thought she might pass out. Had she really shot Patrick with Robbie’s gun, like Adam said? And what about Robbie? Had he taken his own life or had something else happened the night he died? Something so terrifying that Fin didn’t even want to think about it. But she knew the answer to her questions lay in the dream, the same dream she’d dreamt every night since Robbie had died, but it was beyond her reach. After tossing and turning all night she closed her eyes and at last sleep came to her.

  The soft rain fell on her face. She tipped her head back and opened her mouth. She swayed and giggled, rattled the high gates and smiled when she found them open. She ran towards the courtyard. There was something comforting about the confined space of the tower, even though the walls were damp and the smell of mould made her sneeze. She looked through the open arches to the far side of the river. She thought of Robbie and knew he’d come; he’d promised her. And Robbie always kept his promises.

  ‘Fin, for God’s sake!’

  She heard Robbie’s voice and looked down.

  ‘What are you doing up there? Come down here, now! I’m getting soaked.’

  Fin could only just hear him through the beating rain.

  After a few moments he repeated: ‘I said, come down.’

  Fin moved away from the edge. When she reached the bottom she pushed against the tower’s timber door and ran to him. He was standing in the thudding rain with his arms crossed against his chest, his head bowed.

  When she ran to him, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. ‘What are you doing for Christ’s sake?’

  Fin grabbed his hand and they ran for shelter inside the tower. Robbie brushed himself down.

  ‘Robbie? Remember the Jacaranda tree in Gracie’s back yard and how we used to hide there from Uncle Patrick? He could never get us up there, could he?’ Fin began to sing a song about princesses.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Fin, cut it out.’ Robbie pulled the hood of his rain jacket back. ‘I’m not in the mood for this shit.’ He looked at her. ‘And you’ve been drinking again, you smell like a brewery. And stop making so much noise, there’s gotta be a security guy about the place, even in this weather.’

  ‘He’s gone off on his rounds; he’ll be over by Broughton Hall by now. I know his routine, he never comes into the courtyard.’

  ‘Why did you want to meet here, of all places?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘I wanted to show you the view from the tower.’

  ‘Are you crazy, Fin? We’re not kids anymore, you have to let go of all that shit.’

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I have, you should too. And you’re not well. You need medical help.’

  She gave a childish grin.

  Robbie shook his head. ‘How did you get in here, anyway?’

  ‘I’ve got a key.’

  ‘A key? Where did you get a key?’

  ‘I found it.’

  Robbie fingered the lock with his gloved hand.

  ‘Come on,’ Fin said, ‘don’t be such a stick in the mud. This’ll be fun.’

  ‘Fin, I’m a police officer, if I’m caught…’

  Fin tripped on the first step. ‘Are you coming up or not?’ She looked over her shoulder and saw the look on her brother’s face before she scrambled up the stairs. ‘Come on, scaredy cat.’ She giggled.

  ‘This is madness.’ Robbie shone his torch up the staircase. When he finally reached the top, he was trembling from the cold. His rain jacket was soaked inside and out. He took if off and shook it.

  Fin had her back turned to Robbie. She was standing by the open arches, looking at the view. Robbie wiped a drop of rain from his nose.

  The rain had stopped. A strong breeze had sprung up and blown open a gap in the clouds to reveal the moon. When he put his hand on Fin’s shoulder, she pushed him away. She flung her arms wide and threw her head back.

  ‘Welcome to my castle.’ She hiccupped.’ Look at the view, Robbie. You can’t see them now, but the Blue Mountains are over there and the river winds all the way to Parramatta.’ She staggered back from the ledge and fell to the stone floor.

  Robbie stuffed his rain jacket into his backpack. He found a dry patch on the floor and sat down beside her. He crossed his legs and Fin put her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Can’t believe you found Uncle Patrick, after all this time.’ Fin’s voice was suddenly quiet, child-like.

  Robbie had tried to protect her, but what could a small boy do against a grown man, especially a bully and alcoholic? Who was he kidding? He should have done something, tried to protect her. There was no escaping it: he had failed. Failed his little sister.

  Fin looked at Robbie. ‘What are we going to do about him, now we’ve found him?’

  ‘I’m going to give him a thrashing,’ Robbie said.

  ‘I don’t know how Gracie kep
t Uncle Patrick’s secrets for so long.’

  ‘He was her son. Mothers will do anything to protect their children.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Fin said. ‘But we were her grandchildren.’

  ‘It’s not the same, Fin. And anyway, how can you explain or understand the reasons behind what people do.’

  ‘Uncle Patrick should pay for what he did.’

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s going to pay alright; he’s going to pay big time.’ Robbie tilted her chin towards him. ‘What’s wrong? You’re crying.’

  ‘I’ve turned out just like Mad Annie haven’t I?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m crazy. They say it runs in families.’ Fin sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and reached into her backpack. ‘I bought my angel feathers with me, I still have a few left.’ Fin opened the tin and picked out three feathers.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve still got them, after all this time.’ Robbie smiled. ‘I remember Gracie called them your angel calling cards. They were meant to protect you.’

  ‘Here, Robbie.’ Fin handed them to him but the feathers fell from his hand.

  He looked at her. ‘It was a big mistake coming here, Fin.’

  FORTY-FOUR

  Detective Luke Rawlings knocked on Rimis’s door. ‘DCI Carver’s just arrived, boss. He’s downstairs.’

  ‘Good, bring him up to the meeting room.’

  Rawlings turned to leave.

  ‘Oh, and ask him if he wants a coffee, will you?’

  Ten minutes later, Chief Inspector Carver had the attention of a room full of detectives and uniforms. Rimis surveyed the room, noticed Brennan was missing. What was she up to now?

  Carver stood at the front of the room. ‘I know you’re all busy and I’ll try and keep this as brief as possible. We’re all under a lot of stress at the moment with these teenage gangs. After the brawl on Mowbray Road last night I thought it was important I come and speak to you in person.’ Carver leaned on the desk. ‘We’ve got kids as young as thirteen being assaulted and robbed. The hooligans responsible are demanding cash, phones anything of value. They’re generally picking on people their own age and we’ve seen in places like Hurstville and Campbelltown a lot more incidences of graffiti and tagging. Reported assaults are also escalating.’ Carver scanned the room, making eye contact. ‘So far this month in Hurstville alone we’ve charged three teenage males in relation to offences. A sixteen-year-old Hurstville boy has been charged with armed robbery and attempted extortion, and a fourteen-year-old Campbelltown boy has also been charged with criminal damage and drug-related offences.’