“You’re right,” Bex concurred. “It almost sounds like Downer’s actually making suggestions for how Harley should act. His questions lead in that direction.”
“And all this is done under hypnosis, right?” Eli said. “Is it possible to lodge a suggestion in a hypnotized mind and have the person carry out the action?”
“That’s what hypnotists on stage do all the time isn’t it? They put a suggestion in someone’s head—act like a chicken for example—then snap their fingers and the subject acts like a chicken right on cue,” Quinn answered.
“I don’t think it’s that simple!” Bex protested. “You can’t force someone to do something against their will under hypnosis.”
Quinn shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t against Harley’s will. Maybe he’d been fantasizing about killing his dad for a while. God knows, his life with daddy sounds crap. What if the good doctor’s suggestions fell in with what Harley really wanted, deep down? Maybe it was enough to break down any inhibitions he had and he followed through on his fantasies?”
Eli shook his head.
“Treading on thin ice with that supposition, mate. Hypnosis is dodgy at the best of times. The police code specifically prevents us using any information obtained under hypnosis. It’s simply not considered reliable. ‘Confabulation’ is the technical term. There’s got to be independent evidence to support the information.”
“But what Harley describes in the sessions is actually backed up by forensics. Keith Carroll was murdered exactly as Harley planned,” Bex pointed out. “It’s the use of hypnosis as a defense that won’t hold up in court. I can’t think of a successful case since the nineteenth century when a defendant has claimed they were forced into action by a hypnotic suggestion. It’s accepted expert opinion that people can’t be hypnotized into doing something they wouldn’t do of their own volition, so Downer can’t be held accountable for forcing Harley into action.”
“Then we look for motive. What’s William Downer’s motive for encouraging Harley’s murderous fantasies?”
“Good point, Quinn. It might be useful to examine his background.”
Eli slurped his tea. “What if the good doctor gets all his clients to commit crimes under hypnosis? Remember that case a few years ago, caught on camera, when a London shopkeeper was hypnotized in his store and held motionless while the hypnotizer stole hundreds of pounds of takings? So it’s not as though hypnosis has never been used for criminal intent.”
“It’s a wild supposition, Eli, but see if you can get a list of his past patients to match up with any past crimes. When Dr. Downer’s brought in, you two can talk to him and see what he has to say for himself. I’m going home on time for a change.”
“Got a date, Boss?” Eli asked, failing to hide his curiosity. Bex was always the last to leave the office.
“You could say that,” Bex said, thinking of her mother waiting at home so they could commemorate Zane’s passing. She looked straight at Quinn. “You’re in charge while I’m out of the office.” He was her second in command and she was making sure he knew his place in the team’s pecking order. It was a stance she should have taken right from the start.
He acknowledged her words with a mock salute.
“You’ve got big boots to fill in her absence, mate,” Eli chided as Bex disappeared out the door.
Quinn nodded at Eli, docketing the information that Eli backed Bex over him. In fact he had sussed out that Bex had the steadfast loyalty of both Eli and Reuben. He pegged Idris to be sitting on the fence in his opinion of Bex, but he had no illusions he would be able to sway Idris’s support his way. The two of them rarely saw eye to eye. That left him on the outside with his gripes about Bex.
Normally being the lone wolf was where he preferred to be. Making friends out of his police colleagues or trying to work out the bleeding-hearts dynamics of a team wasn’t for him. But the Yank had stripped him of this freedom when she kicked his arse in their arm wrestle. He remembered her titanium-colored eyes cutting through his bluster as she called him out.
If he was honest with himself he had to admit her victory had dented his ego and he was still gobsmacked that his superior strength hadn’t won out. Although it pissed the hell out of him, he couldn’t deny she’d earned the right to issue her ultimatum: Toe the line or transfer out. He couldn’t discount that she was just power tripping over the whole situation, but he had to respect she was a ballsy bird because she hadn’t been afraid to put herself on the line either. Yeah, she was smart and tough in what she had accomplished. Superior officers in the past had faltered trying to reel him into line. With his reputation he wouldn’t be welcomed in any CID the length and breadth of the city.
So what was the alternative? Making a fresh start as Bex’s sidekick? Why did she even want him in the team after the havoc he’d caused her?
He couldn’t figure her out. By his reckoning she should have fallen flat on her face any number of times as she navigated her way through the minefield of British law and order. His biggest gripe was that her methods were arse over tits to him, yet they had delivered the goods when solving their most difficult crimes.
“I’m going to get another cuppa, so I’ll leave you to do that background check on Downer.” Eli pushed himself away from the desk with a nod in Quinn’s direction.
With a jolt Quinn snapped out of his reverie. There was no point trying to work Bex out and no point crying over spilled milk. He had made his bed when he accepted her wager and for the time being he had to live with it and see if he could become a team player.
* * *
“We’ve listened to the recordings of your sessions with Harley, Dr. Downer. The last time you were interviewed, you said it wasn’t in the public interest to come forward to the police. Yet your sessions with Harley make you culpable for not reporting child abuse or your suspicions that a homicide was to be committed.”
Quinn stood beside the interview table, glowering down at William Downer. He was the perfect subject to take his frustrations out on. Seated at the table, Eli worked the recording equipment. Through the two-way mirror he knew that Reuben and Idris were monitoring their interview.
If William Downer felt intimidated by being brought into the station for questioning, he hid it behind a façade of calm. His hands remained still on the tabletop and he didn’t blink too rapidly. The bright lights shining overhead polished Downer’s hair to a silver-gray finish like newly minted five pound coins as he stared steadily into Quinn’s glaring eyes.
“If you’re saying that I ignored public interest then you haven’t listened thoroughly to the recordings. When Harley wasn’t hypnotized he never said he was abused. In fact he got angry and shut down whenever I pressed him about what he disclosed under hypnosis. The only time he spoke about the abuse is while he was hypnotized.” His body curved forward to emphasize the words. “I’m surprised that you, as detectives, don’t realize that information obtained under hypnosis should always be treated with extreme caution. The courts will consider it unreliable and inadmissible if you choose to use it as part of your criminal proceedings.
“I say this so that you realize it was impossible for me to determine if Harley’s accusations against his father were a fabrication of his imagination or based on truth. It was quite possible that Harley was making spurious comments because of a deteriorating relationship with his father. Psychologically speaking, this could be Harley’s subconscious way of legitimizing the bad feelings he harbored towards his father. In the absence of any corroborating evidence to the contrary, I chose to accept that Harley was actually making up these stories.”
Downer concluded his lecture with a smug smile. Quinn’s fists twitched with the urge to wipe it off his face.
“I believe the technical term for what you’re talking about is confabulation,” Quinn sniped, borrowing Eli’s words. “Don’t try to teach your grandmother how to suck eggs, chum. Of course we know what constitutes acceptable evidence in court. As for not reporting Harley’s
abuse to the authorities, that’s just bollocks! If you didn’t have the ability to determine if Harley was telling the truth, then forward the information to someone who could investigate the situation!”
Quinn’s eyes locked on Downer. He regarded him as if he were a flesh-eating maggot.
“What kind of sadist leaves a kid to suffer in Keith Carroll’s perverted hands? Did you get your kicks listening to Harley’s sad, sick confessions?”
Downer jerked back as Quinn’s words lashed him.
“How dare you speak to me like that! Like I’m some sort of sick pervert or the same kind of monster that–” He broke off his sentence. His face closed into a scowl. “I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me angry so I’ll say something unguarded that you can use to distort my meaning. I’m telling you, Detective, that I dealt with Harley according to the proper code of conduct.
“It’s a difficult process earning the trust of a young and troubled teen. If I handed Harley over to the police based solely on his testimony under hypnosis, it could have further exacerbated his relationship with his father. It would have alienated Harley from me and he would never have returned to therapy.”
Quinn felt his emotions boil to the surface. He jammed his fists into his pockets to resist using them. His staccato steps pounded over the cheap vinyl flooring as he paced between the table and the opposite wall.
This case was a perfect example of Isla’s dictum that the law wasn’t black and white, as Quinn preferred. Filtered by Downer’s spouting technicalities it was becoming fifty shades of dirty gray dishwater hues. Downer was guilty of abusing Harley’s trust and worse. He had done nothing concrete to help Harley out of an abusive situation. Instead he had actively encouraged Harley’s sense of injustice that Quinn had no doubt had lead to a double homicide.
“People under hypnosis often tell convincingly detailed stories, that can later to be found to be total lies. So, you see, I couldn’t take what Harley told me as the truth.”
Downer spread his hands as though he was a magician who had just finished a trick. The trick was, Quinn thought, that Downer was going to slide out of any responsibility for what had happened to the Carroll family.
“Not so fast, chum,” Quinn snarled. “What about the sessions where you talk to Harley about inflicting injuries on Keith Carroll. I would call those brainwashing sessions.” Quinn allowed his belligerence full rein. Arms akimbo he stood close to Downer, crowding him back against the wall, hoping to rattle Downer’s composure. The interview was only being audio-taped so none of this would show up.
Breath chugged noisily through Downer’s pinched nose.
“Brain washing?” He turned the words into a sneer. “That’s a strong term and usually involves actions other than hypnosis. I don’t think you’ll find that definition holds up in court. What will you accuse me of next? Indoctrinating Harley into a cult?”
“Then, please explain for us, Dr. Downer, what you wanted to accomplish in those sessions?” Eli butted in.
Quinn’s gaze never left Downer who turned his worried eyes eagerly towards Eli.
“What I wanted to achieve in those sessions was to get Harley to overcome his distaste for his father by talking him through his violent emotions to a peaceful resolution. I was trying to bring some relief into his life.”
A harsh laugh broke from Quinn.
“If that’s the case then you’re not a very good doctor, are you?”
Air hissed between Downer’s clenched teeth. Pushing back his chair he rose to his feet.
“I don’t think I should be talking to you any more without a lawyer present. I want to go now.”
Quinn cracked his knuckles. The sound took on a menacing tone in the quiet room.
Downer said, “Are you arresting me?” Anxiety made his voice querulous.
“No, Dr. Downer, we’re not formally charging you,” Eli reassured him, ignoring Quinn’s lowering look in his direction. “You’re free to go. But please keep yourself available as we may have more questions for you later.”
Quinn flashed a nasty smile at Downer. “That’s right, mate, don’t leave town.”
Chapter 25
Monday 18 December
“It’s late. Are you coming to bed, Isla?” Quinn stood in the doorway. A pair of pajama bottoms clung to his narrow hips. Isla liked the heating up high so it was like a tropical night in their apartment.
She sat at her IKEA birchwood desk, in front of her desktop computer, two legal files beside her, their pages filled with her strong, black scrawl.
“Not yet,” she said, pausing to rub fingertips against her temples. “I can’t get rid of the feeling that I’m letting Harley down. He was just a kid, an abused kid, trying to find his way out of an impossible situation when he killed his father. Downer preyed on him, ratcheted up his feelings to an unbearable level so he really had no choice. How do I explain that in court?
“If the session recordings are introduced as evidence I could try for the excuse defense of automatism. But I’d have to prove that Harley’s consciousness was so impaired by Downer’s hypnotic suggestions that he lacked voluntary control over his actions. Can I make a strong enough case to prove he didn’t actually commit actus reus? If I can, then he can’t be held criminally liable for his actions. Only it’s bloody difficult to prove automatism in trial. Hypnotism is viewed as suspect by the law, and that’s what I’d be resting my threadbare case on.
“On the other hand I could go for a justification defense. That Harley murdered his father in self-defense, defending his body from further abuse at the hands of his tormentor.”
Quinn approached Isla from behind to place his hands on her shoulders. Through her thin blouse she could feel the warmth of his palms seeping into her flesh. Her shoulders felt like they were stiffened with steel rods as he kneaded gently.
“It can’t be self-defense because he also killed his mother. You know as well as I do, that the law only allows for reasonable force in self-defense. Unless we have evidence that Keith and Andrea Carroll were threatening his life, or that Harley thought his life was genuinely in danger and he had no other way to survive, reasonable force has to be less than outright murder.”
“I know.” Isla groaned with both pleasure at Quinn’s touch and frustration with the situation. “And, as Bex said, the recordings could be interpreted in court as Harley simply planning the murder which he later carried out in cold-blood. In which case he’ll face the maximum penalty. How did you go with Downer’s interview?”
“I have to ask myself what kind of justice we’re meting out if we abandon a kid who’s been abused all his life to the maximum penalty while scumbag bastards like Downer manage to weasel out of any wrong doing on technicalities.”
“So you think Downer will get away with any part he played in the murders?”
She felt Quinn’s fingers dig into her flesh.
“I’m hoping it’s too early to make that call. Downer totally went under the radar during the last investigation. I hope that being brought in for questioning today rattled his cage because rattled animals make mistakes. Let’s see what happens when the dust settles and all the evidence is in. A check into his past patients might turn up something we can use against him.”
Isla sighed and wriggled her shoulders.
“Not so hard, lover boy.”
As Quinn eased the pressure, she allowed herself to relax.
“Lillian Perry called me today.”
“The dragon lady who almost singed your eyebrows at the gala? What did she want?”
“To thank me for the heads up on Lyons’s underhanded tactics.”
“Is that all?” Quinn’s voice held a hint of suspicion.
“Don’t be so full of misgivings,” Isla chided. “She’s actually presented me with an incredible opportunity.”
Quinn chortled. “Misgivings? I guess you can always send them back to Harrods in the hope of better givings.”
Isla wriggled her shoulders
free from his hands and half-turned in her chair to face him.
“This is serious Quinn. Since we’re married, I’d thought I’d discuss her proposition with you rather than just making my own decision.”
“Okay, now I’m officially worried.”
She reached a hand out to his bare chest, trailing her fingers over abs rippled like the rungs of a ladder, to snag in the top of his pajama bottoms. She let her lips curve into a tempting smile, needing to forestall his anticipated disapproval.
“Lillian’s offered me a partnership in Perry Grais.”
“Just like that? What’s the catch?” he growled.
“Remember Lyons is orchestrating a hostile takeover of Perry Grais? Well, Lillian’s combating that. As a new partner I’m entitled to employee stock ownership. Basically Perry Grais will issue more shares, sufficient so that between the three of us it will tip our holdings over the fifty percent margin. Even if Lyons buys up every other share he won’t be able to outvote us. It’s called a poison pill and that’s exactly what Lyons will have to swallow.”
“Buy into the company?” Quinn’s voice lost any semblance of humor. “How much is that going to cost?”
“Don’t sweat the details, Quinn. I’ve already figured we can either extend the mortgage on this place or I’ll hit Dad up for a loan. With the extra money and bonuses I’ll get as a partner, repaying either won’t be an issue.”
“I thought you said we were going to discuss it before you made any decisions?” Quinn grated a hand over the stubble on his cheeks as he threw Isla a dissatisfied look.
Isla pouted.
“Stop treating this as though it’s a kick up the arse for you and be happy for me, Quinn. I’ll be a partner. It’s what I’ve been aiming for my whole career!”
One hand still gripped his pajamas and her other hand traced circles over his skin. “Don’t be angry with me. Let’s leave it for the morning. Right now it’s time for bed.”
Bex Wynter Box Set Page 45
