Struggles of Psycho

by Rhyam O'Bryam

  ‘Nothing relevant.’ Her voice dropped in tone, becoming more friendly. ‘What are we looking for here, Boss?’

  ‘Motive. Mostly.’

  ‘You think it could be murder?’

  ‘I do. What do you think?’

  ‘It could be. She’s crazy enough.’ McCarthy ran her hands through her hair and restored her ponytail with swift, efficient movements.

  ‘That. And the fact she doesn’t care about right and wrong. She thinks she’s above the law, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Definitely. She’s no fear of us, anyway.’

  I nodded. That was a good point. Most people brought here, innocent or guilty, were anxious. Not Amy Philips.

  ‘I don’t like her.’ I observed. ‘I don’t like the way she stares at me.’

  ‘She’s a creep.’

  ‘But she’s smart, maybe not as smart as she thinks. And she has money. When it comes to court, she’ll have a strong legal team.’

  ‘You mean, we better have a cut-and-dried case for the DPP?’

  ‘I didn’t mean anything really. I was just thinking aloud. But yeah, I suppose so. A confession would be good and she might be building up to that.’

  ‘I bet you a tenner, she’s not.’

  That made me think and I must have been smiling because McCarthy was smiling back at me.

  ‘No. You’re right. She’s not. She has a plan.’

  ‘Fuck knows what it is.’

  ‘Let’s try and figure it out, shall we?’

  The cold had got to me. Otherwise, I’d have been happy to stay on the roof and turn the conversation to other matters, like McCarthy’s take on the crisis at the top of the force. It might have reminded Amy Philips too, by keeping her waiting, that we were in charge here.

  ‘Want a coffee first?’ McCarthy asked as she stood up.

  ‘Not really. But I’m happy to get one with you.’

  ‘Nah, let’s get back to her while she’s in a gabby mood and before she brings a lawyer in.’

  ‘Right.’

  Amy Philips was waiting for us back in the interview room. We settled in again, McCarthy giving her the formalities before starting the tape.

  ‘Where were we?’ I asked.

  ‘I was going to tell you about my holiday with the Patterson family.’

  ‘Right.’ I nodded. ‘What year was this?’

  ‘I was fifteen, so eighty-two.’

  ‘Mike was sixteen?’ I added. ‘And Ivy was fourteen.’

  ‘Probably.’ Amy shrugged. ‘I can’t remember their birthdays.’

  ‘And this holiday was in Wales?’

  ‘Right. The Pattersons had the use of a cottage near Cricceth. I say cottage, but it was a modernized, four-bedroom building. It was very pleasant. I remember it was warm, with new double-glazed windows and an extension beyond the front door, with a sliding entrance, so people could come and go without letting the cold air in. It was much nicer that way than my farm, which is far too draughty.

  ‘The kitchen, too, was quite splendid, all built around a high oval counter, which is where we took our means.’

  ‘And did anything relevant happen there?’ asked McCarthy, ‘or can we skip forty years and get to the night you killed Mike?’

  ‘That’s an interesting query, Sergeant. Yes, this is very relevant. Because Mike fell in love with me there. Or rather, I let him think he was in love with me. I’m not sure that boy, or later that man, ever experienced love. Not that I’m the best person to judge these things.’

  ‘You don’t know what love is?’ As soon as I had asked the question, McCarthy looked at me, amazed. I could tell she was wondering why I should be going on about love, why I should sidetrack our interview into a gossip session among teenagers. But it drew out a response that I noted.

  ‘How could I, Superintendent? I believe love has something to do with trust. And I was unable to trust anyone. Not when, ten times a day, I saw my mother dying in that car crash and spending her final breaths in a warning.’

  ‘All right. So Mike fell in love with you and years later, you killed him. What’s the connection? What happened?’ McCarthy tapped the eraser end of her pencil on the pad.

  ‘You won’t understand anything if you rush me like this.’ Amy Philips scowled. ‘Let me think. We were all at the cottage. And every day, we’d go out somewhere challenging. Their father just wanted just to go fishing or to play golf, so he’d drop us off for a hill walk or at an adventure park – the kind with climbing, kayaking or tree-walks – and leave us for the day.

  ‘Mr Patterson was very wrapped up in his own world and I could see why Ivy felt alone. They never talked about anything important to her. Not that I noticed.

  ‘There was a day we were being taught about crossing shallow rivers in a group. The three of us formed a circle, facing inwards, heads nearly touching, arms around each other’s shoulders. The idea was that this would be much more stable than walking in a line.

  ‘It was slippery, the cold water running fast over shining stones. A murmur from the water hitting larger rocks was all around us. There was something extremely intimate about the moment.

  ‘I found the going hard as I was wearing borrowed wellies that were too big for me. And the water was deep enough that it was nearly coming over the top. The last thing I wanted was a boot full of cold river water. So when we took a serious wobble, I broke the circle to save myself and Mike fell in, face first.

  ‘Even though he leapt out of the water like a salmon, those few seconds had drenched him in near-freezing water. It had flowed right through his clothes and already he was crouched over himself, white and shivering.

  ‘Come on, back to shore.’ I took Mike’s hand and led the way back, Ivy holding his other hand. She and I exchanged a smile. It wasn’t funny, really, it was a little bit dangerous in fact. Yet there’s always some comedy in a person falling face first into water, especially if that person has been acting as if he is older and wiser than his companions.

  ‘Once on the shore, I blew my whistle and it wasn’t long before a camp leader came to us.

  ‘“Right!” she said, in a hearty, no-nonsense voice. “Let’s get you up to the cabin.”

  ‘I think it was more than a little embarrassing for Mike, although he was grateful to be escaping the cold wind, to be led through the group of teenagers who were putting on slings for a tree walk. His head was down and his walk was brisk. Again, I caught Ivy’s eye and saw a hint of amusement.’

  ‘Once at the cabin, the leader ordered out the occupants and gave Mike a blanket and a towel. “Strip off and give yourself a good rub with these.” Then she turned to Ivy and me. “Want to go up the trees with that other group?”

  ‘“Yes, thanks,” said Ivy. But I hesitated.

  ‘“I’ll stay with Mike.” They both looked at me, surprised. “I don’t really like heights.”

  ‘“Suit yourself.” The leader took Ivy back down the path. I got one last look from her, a quizzical expression on her face. When I waved, she only half raised her hand in return.

  ‘When they were round the corner, I knocked on the cabin door.’

  ‘“It’s busy,” Mike called back.

  ‘“It’s just me. Let me in.”

  ‘A short while later, the latch lifted and I came inside the hut. Mike had the blanket around his waist, the towel over his shoulders but was otherwise naked.

  ‘I’d never really seen his body before. He had very pale skin, nearly white. His build was very slender, girlish really, which I liked. There was no sign of muscle across his body, just the slight indication of his ribs.

  ‘“What?” he asked, his voice was strange, teetering between sounding aggrieved and plaintive.

  ‘“Here, let me help.” I took his shoulders and turned him around. Again, I was struck by the softness of his skin and the distinct line formed by the bones of his spine. With the towel firmly grasped in each hand, I gave his head a fierce rub all over, until his brown hair was nearly dry and
standing up in clusters.

  ‘“Ouch. Jesus, Amy, go easy, please.”

  ‘“Got to get you warm.” And it was true. His body was still really cold. I put the towel around him and pulled it back and forth briskly across his chest and stomach. In doing so, he had to take a step back and his cool body pressed against mine. I knew he could feel my breasts against him as I leaned into him and rubbed hard.

  ‘“You’re going to give me burns.” But he wasn’t really complaining. As it happened, I really did, he had red marks for a week on his flanks.

  ‘Then I dropped the towel and plunging my hand down inside the blanket, grasped his cock. For a fraction of a second he resisted, squirming as if to escape. But then he stopped, transfixed.

  ‘It was a bit like how a mouse appears to give up under the paws of a cat. For a long while it holds still, shivering perhaps, until a desperate last dash occurs. I felt that Mike was like that mouse and could run at any moment.

  ‘Mike’s cock was fairly large, disproportionate to his body, I would say, although my experience of the male sexual organ was limited to having felt that of a biker called Josh, whom several of the girls from my school used to end their state of virginity. Josh had been recommended to me and did the job perfectly well. He wore a condom and had me mount him. Having become something of an expert in the art of dealing with virgins, Josh said that this was much the best position, because the girl could adjust herself and control any pain.

  ‘So I knew something about what I was doing. While I began to rub Mike up and down, I kept him close with my other arm around him and whispered into his ear.

  ‘“Tell me you love me and I’ll take care of you.”

  ‘“Not here, someone will see.” It was true that there were four large windows to the cabin and someone could walk past at any time.

  ‘“We’ll be quick. Say it.”

  ‘“I… I love you Amy. I really do.”

  ‘“And you’ll do anything for me.’

  ‘“I will. I’ll do anything for you; you know that.”

  ‘So I rubbed him briskly. Less than a minute later he let out a big groan and sagged in my arms. His sperm had shot across the wooden floor for an astonishing distance. The poor boy. This was almost certainly his first orgasm in the hands of a girl.

  ‘“Clean that up with the towel.”

  ‘He did as I ordered. And as I watched him on his hands and knees, bare arse in the air, I felt that I had taken a big step forward in my life. I had discovered the power of sex. Mike, I believed, was mine to control. I felt the urge to whip him with lashes of the blanket at my feet, though I resisted. It was this discovery, more than the act we had just performed, that meant that I too was aroused.

  ‘I couldn’t help but picture Ivy in the same way. If only she was as desperate as him, I would be happy. But deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be the same with her. Whether it was because I had an intuition that the sexual act meant less to her, or that she had no desire at all for women, I just couldn’t quite picture Ivy so eager, so enthralled, by me.

  ‘Still, Mike was mine and through him, I hoped that Ivy would be too.’

  At this point I caught McCarthy’s eye and, ignoring the presence of Amy Philips, McCarthy just rolled up her eyes in disgust. For my part, I felt that our suspect was playing with us. She had just about made the story relevant with its references to the origins of a sexual relationship with the victim. But really, she had enjoyed being so graphic. There was a smile at the edge of her lips and an avid searching of her gaze, back and forth between McCarthy and me.

  ‘Were you involved in a sexual relationship with Michael Patterson at the time of his death?’ I asked her.

  ‘I’m getting there, Superintendent, but the short answer is “no”. Not for many years.’

  ‘How long did you date for?’

  ‘This first time, because we dated again in our thirties, our relationship – if you can call it that – lasted about two years. But if you allow me, there is a lot more to be said about that holiday in Wales.’

  McCarthy let out a deep breath and from the tone of it I could almost hear her thinking, I’m sure there is, you creep.

  ‘Please,’ I urged her, ‘keep a focus on the events that led to you killing Michael Patterson.’

  But she just smiled and stared me down again.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘From that day on, Mike was like a trained dog. He followed me around, tried to rub up against me, tried to get me alone. And like a good dog trainer, I occasionally rewarded him with a treat. One evening, after we hauled a heavy bin down to the bottom of the cottage path to the main road for collection, I stood still under a starry sky while he clumsily pawed my breasts for a while.

  ‘Another morning, we had the cottage to ourselves as Mr Patterson took Ivy to Cricceth to get sanitary towels. Mike’s father was a little surprised when Mike said he’d rather stay at the cottage and to torture Mike, I nearly said I’d come along with Ivy. Instead, however, I thought it a chance to consolidate my hold over him. To test my authority, I took two of the ties that hung in the wardrobe in my bedroom and while he lay face up, tied each of his wrists to the corner of the bed.’

  ‘Oh, here we go.’ McCarthy looked angry. ‘Will you stop with the sex.’

  ‘I’m trying to explain how we come to this,’ Amy pointed to her cheek. ‘And to a time when Mike was so worked up about me, he would try to kill me. I need you to see that.’ She looked at me. ‘What do you say, Superintendent?’

  ‘Carry on.’

  Exasperated, McCarthy shook her head.

  ‘Well. In deference to your sensitive colleague, I’ll just say that I kept Mike in a feverish state for a long time before giving him what he wanted. Having said that, he always wanted more. “I love you, Amy,” he’d say, over and over. “I’ll do whatever you want but please, take me in your mouth.”

  ‘It surprised me, actually, that he had the courage to even ask. And of course, he wanted to have full sex with me. From my point of view, this was a question of control, rather than pleasure. It seemed to me I had to use this power I had carefully. If I gave him everything, would that connect him too me even more deeply or would he turn away, having had his fantasies fulfilled? It was hard for me to judge. Now, of course, I can say the right strategy is to keep the man needy. But I was young, only fifteen.

  ‘So I did let him have sex with me but I arranged it so that we did so in front of a mirror. He had my Polaroid camera. You’ll remember that you could set the date and time on those to appear in the bottom right of the picture, in red letters.

  ‘I told Mike we were making pictures to entertain us while we were apart, so we posed in a number of positions. Me on my back, legs open, him entering me and facing the mirror. Me on all fours, looking at the mirror and pulling a face of dismay and upset, him behind, camera masking his expression.

  ‘Of course, I wanted them as evidence. Being only fifteen, this was statutory rape and the threat of jail, I felt, would prove to be a far better hold over him than sex. The power of sex I didn’t fully understand and feared it might go away. The power of incrimination, however, I was already a master of.

  ‘Ivy knew something was happening. Not that either of us told her. It was obvious, and, curiously enough, particularly so through a juggling game. Ivy had brought practice juggling balls on the holiday, the small kind, green and red, packed with dried peas. Mike and I started fooling around with them. He would throw one to me and I would catch it and throw it back. Then, he’d throw another while my return was on its way to him. Soon we were could go for a hundred or more throws and catches with two balls. Three was a bit more complicated.

  ‘By the end of the holiday, without any real effort, Mike and I were exchanging these balls, even as we talked or listened to music. You have to imagine the scene in the cottage lounge: Ivy on the couch, Mike and me in chairs at either side of her, facing each other and throwing these balls with a pat, pat, pat, rhythm, like a dripping
tap.

  ‘I could see that Ivy was getting annoyed. But I couldn’t quite understand why. Was she feeling excluded? Was she annoyed that I now seemed closer to Mike than to her? Had she detected the depths of Mike’s attachment to me and did this alarm her? I needed to know.

  ‘“Mike,” I said, between throws. “Why don’t you do this with Ivy?”

  ‘“I dunno.”

  ‘“Wouldn’t you like that Ivy?” I could feel the progress of throw and catch so effectively that it was possible to glance across at her without losing the pattern.

  ‘Ivy looked discontented. “What’s going on between you two?”

  ‘“Amy is my girlfriend.” Mike spoke proudly but I nearly dropped a catch.

  ‘“Girlfriend?”

  ‘“Well, aren’t you?” Having heard a tone of incredulity in my voice, he was suddenly uncertain.

  ‘“Well, all right. If you want to say that. But it’s not as simple as that.”

  ‘“No?” he caught the balls and held them. The room felt still and quiet as a result.

  ‘“You are my slave, aren’t you Mike?”

  ‘“What do you mean?”

  ‘“You’ll do whatever I ask, won’t you?”

  ‘“I will, Amy, I really will.”

  ‘“Anything?”

  ‘“Anything.”

  ‘“Go over to Ivy and hurt her.”

  ‘He looked at me and something nasty crossed his face. “All right.” Standing up, Mike raised a hand with the juggling ball in it and threw it hard at Ivy. It hit her ribs.

  ‘“Mike! Stop it. What are you doing?”

  ‘He just laughed and threw the next, which glanced off the top of her head. There was a terrible glee in his expression now. The last would have hit her in the eye, but Ivy managed to block it in time.

  ‘“Oh, you bully.” Ivy stood up. “Be careful, Mike. Amy is not a normal girl.”