Asylum Read online

  ASYLUM

  By

  Gina Amos

  Copyright © 2015 Gina Amos

  All rights reserved.

  Distributed by Smashwords

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Kara Group Pty Limited

  PO Box 277

  Hunters Hill NSW 2110 Australia

  [email protected]

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  TO TONI AND SEAN

  Fellow writers and good friends

  ‘The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.’

  Ernest Hemingway

  Table of Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  Acknowledgements

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ONE

  The grounds of the hospital for the insane were deserted. Patrick Hill pulled his yellow beanie down low over his ears and continued on his usual route, turning every now and again to see if the dog was following him. The squelching of his boots and the buzz of a lone streetlight were the only sounds. He turned his back to the wind. Winter had been reasonable up until a week ago, before the temperature dropped sharply and the rain began. For God’s sake Brian, where are you? It served him right of course; he should have put the dog on the lead.

  Patrick whistled once, short and sharp. The dog appeared, circled around to its left, vanished, and, seconds later, reappeared in the car park. A flash of white and then he was gone.

  Patrick walked across the car park and into the courtyard beyond. On the ground lay something that looked like a bundle of old rags. The dog growled: vicious and deep. Patrick crouched down on the muddy ground and patted the dog’s shoulder. ‘What is it boy?’ He aimed his torch to where Brian’s snout was pointed.

  ‘What’s that?’ He stepped back. The torch tumbled from his hands and fell to the ground. ‘Sweet Jesus.’

  TWO

  Detective Jill Brennan took her eyes off the road and glanced across at Detective Inspector Rimis. He’d been unusually quiet since they’d left the station fifteen minutes earlier. Having worked together on previous cases, the two of them were usually relaxed around each other.

  ‘Everything all right, boss?’

  Rimis leaned forward and fiddled with the heater. ‘Rotten night to be out.’

  Jill knew it wasn’t the bad weather Nick Rimis had on his mind. He’d been grumpier than usual these past couple of days. Gossip moved quickly at the station and talk was rife with the news his ex-wife had given birth to her first child. Fiona Rimis had left the force after ten years of service. Six months later she’d left Nick Rimis after six years of marriage. She’d moved in with a younger man with a regular job, a good salary and a large house.

  The tyres hissed as Jill turned the car west off Victoria Road into Darling Street. The traffic slowed. Ahead of them taillights glowed red. An accident. They didn’t have time for this. She flicked the indicator, pulled out from the line of traffic and made a sharp right turn into Callan Park.

  After they passed through a set of tall wrought iron gates, the car crawled along a dark, narrow ribbon of road. About three hundred metres further on, Jill slowed the car at a roundabout. An officer wearing a fluro, high-vis vest pointed a strobe to the left. When the road opened up Jill caught a glimpse of a derelict brick building, its windows boarded with thick plywood.

  Rimis looked out through the windscreen. ‘A lonely place.’

  Jill thought the same, until she saw a burst of flashing blue and red lights ahead. She turned into the car park and pulled up next to two police vehicles. Before she turned off the ignition she glanced across at the temperature reading on the dashboard — four degrees Celsius.

  Rimis unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed a pair of rubber boots from the back seat. Jill adjusted her rain jacket, pulled back on her ponytail.

  ‘Come on, Brennan, get a move on. It’s not a fashion show.’ The detective inspector got out of the car, turned up his collar and started off in the direction of the police cordon tape, leaving Jill to follow.

  Jill opened the car door and stepped in a puddle of mud. She swore under her breath, stared down at her shoes. Why had Rimis asked for her and not Luke Rawlings? Two more hours and her shift would have been over, another three, and she would have been at home tucked up in a warm bed. A gust of wind stung her cheeks and made her eyes water. With the wind came the smell of rain…she zipped her jacket to her chin and squelched her way after Rimis. As if on cue, a curtain of drizzle descended. She spotted Rimis standing beside a uniformed officer and a small group of onlookers huddled beneath umbrellas.

  But instead of going over to him she stopped behind the ambulance. The doors were wide open and inside a paramedic strapped an oxygen mask over a man’s nose and mouth. A police officer was by the old man’s side, offering reassurance.

  ‘Brennan. Over here.’

  Jill turned her head and jammed her hands in her jacket pockets. She hurried over to Rimis and flashed her warrant at the uniform before signing the log. The crime-scene tape fluttered in the wind.

  ‘That’s all we need,’ Rimis said, looking past Jill.

  Jill turned her head to where Rimis was looking. The passenger door of a news van slid open and a woman with movie-star qualities stepped out. She was a blonde with big hair, big breasts, big mouth, dressed in a white ski jacket and a pair of black leggings tucked into knee-high leather boots. Within seconds a crew of technicians was unloading equipment.

  ‘Come on, let’s go. The last thing I feel like is talking to Katrina Andrel.’

  Together they ducked beneath the crime-scene tape and marched towards the clock tower. Arc lights had been set up and the harsh white light shone in their faces.

  Sydney’s heavy and persistent rain during the past week had turned the grass to mud.

  Jill checked her shoes. ‘Should have worn boots.’

  ‘Too late to be worrying about that now,’ Rimis said. They were about to step into the improvised tent when a uniform appeared in front of them.

  ‘Sir? Constable Jason Patullo.’ The constable’s nose was red from the cold; his slick, black hair plastered his forehead. ‘My partner and I
were the first on the scene.’

  Rimis looked at him. ‘I hope neither of you touched anything.’

  ‘We were careful, sir. We only walked into the courtyard far enough to confirm it was a body and then we secured the scene.’ Patullo was at least ten centimetres shorter than Rimis and built like a boxer. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five years old.

  ‘I suppose you already know the deceased is one of us.’ Patullo paused, lowered his voice. ‘I found his warrant card when I went through his wallet.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Rimis said.

  It all made sense now. It explained why Rimis had been called out and why the television news team had been so quick to arrive. Jill looked at them both, wondered why Rimis hadn’t mentioned it.

  ‘Who found the body?’ Rimis asked.

  ‘Patrick Hill. An old guy.’ Patullo blew into his cupped hands.

  ‘What in God’s name was he doing wandering around Callan Park in the middle of the night?’

  ‘Walking his dog, sir.’

  Rimis shook his head. ‘If I had a dollar for every dog walker who found a dead body I wouldn’t be half as worried as I am about my retirement fund,’ Rimis said. ‘So, what did Mr Hill have to say for himself?’

  ‘That Brian found him.’

  ‘Brian?’

  ‘Yeah, his dog. Doesn’t keep him on a lead; that’s why he got away. Mr Hill followed him into the courtyard. The dog found the body over there by the tower.’

  Rimis looked at Brennan. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘If you had a dog, would you walk him on a night like this?’

  ‘Depends,’ Rimis said.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On how much I liked the dog, and how much I liked to walk at night.’

  Jill half rolled her eyes and turned back to Patullo. ‘Don’t suppose he saw anybody hanging about?’

  Patullo shook his head. ‘He said all he was thinking about was finding Brian and going home to a warm bed.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame him,’ Jill said.

  ‘Brian. Bloody stupid name for a dog, don’t you think?’ Rimis said. ‘Whatever happened to good old-fashioned names like Buddy or Rover?’

  Patullo shrugged, looked down at his boots.

  ‘What time did Mr Hill say he found the body?’ Rimis asked.

  ‘Ten-forty seven.’

  Rimis raised his eyebrows. ‘How can he be so sure of the time?’

  ‘I asked him the same thing. Said he’d just checked his watch. The man’s a creature of habit; he walks Brian the same time, same route, every night.’ Patullo cleared his throat. ‘You know the type, sir.’

  ‘Yeah, I know the type, Constable,’ Rimis said in a tired voice. Rimis dragged back the blue tarp and turned to Patullo. ‘Wait here. Nobody comes in without my say so, you got that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Inside the tent, the glow of the lights and the wind flapping against the walls reminded Jill of camping holidays with her father: happy times.

  Rimis rubbed his hands together, gave the police photographer a nod before he turned his attention to Doctor Ross. ‘Not a good night to be out.’

  ‘I won’t argue with you there, Inspector. I can think of at least a dozen places I’d rather be.’

  The camera shutter clicked in quick succession as the photographer stepped around the body. Rimis dropped to a crouch on the plastic sheeting while Jill took a step closer so she could look over Rimis’s shoulder.

  It was the legs that hit Jill first — bones sticking through blood-soaked jeans. Then the muddied grey-ribbed jumper. It was draped in an odd way. And the shoulders, there was something strange about them. They were narrower than they should have been. Jill ran her eyes upward to the face. She stepped back and held a closed fist to her mouth.

  ‘Looks like he landed feet first,’ Doctor Ross said in a quiet voice. ‘Then rotated backwards. The tibia and fibula are fractured on both legs, the patellas would have exploded on impact.’

  ‘What about the head wound?’ Rimis asked.

  ‘It looks like it happened during the peri-mortem period, seconds or maybe minutes before death. It takes time for blood to seep into and spread through the tissues. He could have struck his head on the side of the tower just before or after he fell.’

  ‘Would he have been unconscious when he hit the ground?’ Rimis asked.

  Doctor Ross nodded. ‘It’s unlikely he would have suffered.’

  Jill let out a soft groan and her tongue pressed itself against the roof of her mouth. Her stomach heaved. Her universe had shifted in a matter of minutes. She had to slow it down and try to make sense of what was in front of her.

  Rimis looked over his shoulder. ‘You alright, Brennan?’

  Jill didn’t know how to answer him. Her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached. She managed a vague nod.

  The photographer began to pack up his cameras and video equipment. ‘I want you to take some shots of the cars parked in the surrounding streets,’ Rimis said. ‘Someone may have seen something.’

  ‘What? In this weather?’

  ‘It’s only a few streets.’

  The photographer slung his camera gear over his shoulder and stalked out.

  Rimis turned back to Doctor Ross. ‘Let’s start with time of death.’

  ‘It’s not an exact science.’

  ‘Take a guess,’ Rimis said.

  Doctor Ross got to her feet, snapped off her blue nitrile gloves and shoved them in a plastic bag. ‘Best guess?’ She stared into his eyes. ‘I applied Moritz’s formula and with rigor mortis unfixed, I’d say more than four but less than six hours. I’ll narrow the time down once I get him on the table and examine his stomach contents.’

  Rimis checked his watch.

  Jill blinked. Looked at Rimis.

  ‘You sure you’re okay, Brennan?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t look fine to me.’

  How to put it? Rimis and Doctor Ross were looking at her now.

  ‘I know him. I mean, well, knew him.’ Jill held back the bitter taste in her mouth, called up an image of Robbie; saw the dimple on his cheek, his bright blue eyes, his crooked nose broken while surfing. ‘It’s…’ she struggled with the words. ‘It’s Robbie Calloway. Senior Constable Robert Calloway.’ And then she remembered the missed call and the voicemail message from two days ago.

  When Robbie had phoned she’d been interviewing the owner of a service station after he’d reported an armed robbery attempt. She’d accidentally deleted Robbie’s message but had made a mental note to call him when she got back to the station — but the call had slipped her mind.

  A gust of wind shook the tarp and what had been a drizzle moments earlier, turned to a downpour.

  The tent flap pushed to one side. It was Patullo. He stepped inside, shook himself and pulled back the hood of his rain jacket. ‘The body snatchers are here, sir.’

  They were giants of men. They stepped in and unfolded a plastic body bag. Jill put her hand to her mouth, pushed past them and ran from the tent. Rimis went to go after her, but Doctor Ross grabbed his arm and shook her head. ‘Leave her.’

  Doctor Ross picked up her medical bag then nodded to the two men signaling the body was ready for them.

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ Rimis said to Doctor Ross, ‘but I could do with some fresh air.’

  Doctor Ross and Rimis joined Constable Patullo and ran towards the nearest building to take cover from the rain. The stone buildings were linked by a series of verandahs fringed by grassy courtyards. The doctor stomped her feet and dislodged clumps of mud on the flagstones. The rain poured down with renewed vigour and hammered the corrugated iron roof above them.

  Rimis ran his hand through his wet hair. ‘So, Doctor Ross, are we looking at suicide, here?’

  ‘It’s difficult to say. The method of death in a fall like this is hard to determine without witnesses.’

  The gush of water running through the copper down
pipes made conversation difficult. Rimis strained to hear her and leaned in closer. ‘So you’re not going to be able to tell me if he fell, jumped or if he was pushed?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying, Inspector. To prove a fall is homicidal in nature is rare.’

  Rimis looked up at the tower through the rain.

  Patullo interrupted his thoughts. ‘Sir, I think you should know Katrina Andrel was snooping about, trying to get a story.’

  Rimis narrowed his eyes. ‘Hope you didn’t talk to her.’

  Patullo shook his head. ‘No, sir.’ Patullo glanced around and leaned in closer to Rimis. Patullo gave a sly smile. ‘Katrina looks even better in person than she does on the telly, don’t you think, sir?’

  ‘Yes, well, Katrina Andrel can be very charming when she wants information but don’t let her fool you, Constable. I wouldn’t trust the woman as far as I could throw her.’

  Rimis looked around for Jill. He spotted her sitting amongst the shadows at the far end of the covered walkway.

  Jill got to her feet when she saw Rimis approach and straightened her back like a small child caught doing something wrong. ‘Sorry, boss, I’m okay now. It was just the shock of seeing Robbie like that.’

  Rimis put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Jill. I had no idea you knew him. Under the circumstances, anyone would have reacted the way you did.’

  Jill nodded. One of the first things she’d learnt at Goulburn Police Academy was to avoid emotional involvement in a case; hard to do when the deceased was someone you knew. She thought about what Doctor Ross had said: Robbie hadn’t suffered. That was something at least.

  A chilly wind blew in from Iron Cove Bay, blowing thin strands of Jill’s blonde hair across her face. The roof above them began to leak and heavy droplets of water slid down her back. She shivered and pulled up the collar of her jacket.

  ‘Let’s go.’ Rimis motioned Jill back towards Doctor Ross and Patullo. ‘Patullo, find something warm for Detective Brennan, will you? She’s soaked to the bone.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Patullo dragged his hands out of his armpits and rushed off.

  ‘Will you be doing the autopsy, Doctor Ross?’ Rimis asked.