Double Madness

by Caroline de Costa

  ‘The track’s getting worse,’ said Mitch. ‘And I don’t have room to turn here.’

  ‘OK. I’ll call up the others.’

  ‘Shit!’ The car had ground to a halt and its wheels were spinning. ‘Now we’re bogged!’

  Dave jumped out and pushed while Mitch tried again but the car didn’t budge, forwards or backwards.

  ‘Ken!’ Dave was on the radio to the other car. ‘We’re bogged in the mud on this track, about six k’s from the main road.’

  ‘Oh mate! Well, we won’t follow you in. Keep trying yourselves, but we’ll also get a four-wheel drive out there to you to pull you out. There’s no other way out of there; that track ends about three kilometres further on, halfway up a mountain. So if the Mitsubishi has gone in there it can’t go much further. And it can’t leave without you knowing.

  ‘By the way,’ added Ken, ‘that track leads to Danno Murphy’s place, y’know.’

  Danno was well known to Innisfail Police. He had several minor convictions for growing and dealing cannabis. He was a congenial character, often seen in the town’s pubs, and up till this point not known to be associated with the theft of motor vehicles or the murder of associates.

  ‘The woman in the rainforest,’ Mitch said to Dave. ‘Most probably involved with drugs too. Like the other one. Buscati. He was found not far away. Probably it’s all linked. But Danno? I wouldn’t have thought so.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Dave. ‘It’s getting as bad as Melbourne up here. No loyalty among crims anymore!’ He grinned. ‘Well, we’re stuck here a while.’

  ‘Yeah, but if we wait long enough they’ll come and pull us out.’

  It was hot in the direct sun. Dave put the aircon up a notch and turned the radio on to Cold Chisel, ‘The things I love in you’.

  ‘I love these old songs,’ Mitch said happily, humming along. Half an hour passed peacefully.

  Mitch had just begun to snore gently when Dave noticed a flash of colour in the forest to their left. Someone wearing a red baseball cap. And then the glint of metal.

  ‘Mitch!’ he hissed. ‘There’s someone in the bush there watching us! I think with a gun!’

  Mitch woke up just in time to catch a glimpse of movement himself. He killed the radio, threw open the driver’s door and flung himself out onto the safety of the side of the track. Dave followed him, and moved cautiously to the front of the car while Mitch went to the back. They both peered out at the forest. Someone was moving quietly through the trees and scrub about forty metres away, at an angle to the track, towards a point where the forest gave way to grass.

  Both men drew their guns and watched carefully. There was a slight ruffling of bushes as the figure progressed. Mitch moved quietly towards the front of the car with Dave and they both half-stood, ready for action.

  When the bush about two metres from the road began fluttering, Dave called out: ‘Police! We’ve got you covered! Come out with your hands up! Don’t try anything funny!’

  For a moment the movement stopped. Then a very haughty female cassowary stepped onto the track and, without even inclining her splendid blue and scarlet neck towards them, crossed into the scrub on the other side. The sheen of her body feathers was gun-metal grey.

  ‘Shit!’ Mitch exclaimed. ‘We nearly killed a protected species!’

  They both roared with laughter as they climbed back into the car, off their guard so much that the white Mitsubishi, reappearing from further up the track was almost upon them before they saw it, or its driver saw them. At the same moment they heard the rumble of a four-wheel drive behind them and the police LandCruiser swung into view, Ken at the wheel. He jumped out and surveyed the scene with some bemusement. What was so damn funny?

  ‘Danno Murphy!’ Ken addressed the driver of the Mitsubishi. ‘I see you’ve got a new car!’

  Danno nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. Belongs to a mate. It came up from Sydney. He’s planning to register it in Queensland next week.’

  ‘And do you have any idea of the whereabouts of a Michel Janvier?’

  ‘Who? Never heard of him.’

  Ken walked carefully around the Mitsubishi, apparently appreciating its many qualities. With the toe of his boot he kicked the mud from the numberplate.

  ‘Interesting!’ he said. ‘That’s the exact same rego as a New South Wales car that went missing about six months ago. But that was a Honda and this is a Mitsubishi.’

  Danno said nothing but he grimaced and swallowed hard. Ken opened the back door of the car. It appeared empty but the earthy smell of dried marijuana hung heavily about it.

  Ken opened the bonnet and checked the engine and chassis number. He took a notebook from his pocket, consulted a page, nodded and smiled. He looked straight at Murphy.

  ‘You realise this car is wanted in connection with the murder of a woman in Cairns?’

  Murphy was genuinely shocked. ‘Shit no! I just borrowed it off me mate from Mareeba. He said he found it in the bush up there or something.’

  ‘He … found … it … in … the … bush. How likely is that? This excellent vehicle?’

  ‘No, seriously, that’s what he said. He was out doing a bit of bushwalking somewhere up there in the rainforest with a couple of his mates, when they come across this car, pulled off the road, looks like it’s been there a couple of days. Nobody in it. Nobody around anywhere. So they push off but when they come back a couple of days later, it’s still there. So he figures it’s abandoned. Starts it up easy, drives into Kuranda. Said he made some inquiries and couldn’t find who owned it so he thought he’d mind it until the owner turned up. Honest. I don’t know anything about any murdered woman.’

  ‘Well, Danno, you’re going to come with us. Just as soon as we pull these officers out of the mud. That splendid set of wheels you’re driving is the property of a person of interest to Cairns detectives in connection with the probable murder of another person. So this afternoon you’re going to be helping the police with their inquiries. As they say.’

  Cairns, 4 March 2011

  Once they’d watched the exploits of Odile Janvier and Wilfred Lam, Drew set the team members to work. Each had a computer, and a collection of USB sticks containing the emails to be matched up with the videos. Cass quickly found that it was one of the most unenjoyable tasks she’d ever been landed with in her whole time in the force and, listening to the exclamations of her colleagues in nearby cubicles, she gathered that they were not too happy either.

  Around eleven Drew took the call from Innisfail. A white Mitsubishi Outlander had been located with false NSW numberplates. There was a pause and then his Innisfail informant spoke again.

  ‘Umm … the bad news Detective is that the car following the Mitsubishi has got bogged in mud. The good news is that a LandCruiser is on its way to pull it out and that the bogged car now blocks the track so that there is no way the Mitsubishi can leave. The road ends in rainforest about three kilometres further on. So there’s nowhere else that Michel Janvier, if it’s him, can go.’

  ‘Well, maybe not,’ said Drew, ‘but he’s an experienced bushie. He could just take off into the rainforest. I’m coming down myself to talk to him. If it’s him.’

  Turning to his team he outlined the situation.

  ‘I’ll take Sergeant Garth and go down there now,’ he said.

  ‘And leave us with this shit!’ moaned Barwen. ‘I want to go back to traffic branch.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Drew. ‘I know. It’s gross. I’ve just watched five straight episodes of oral sex. What am I going to tell my wife when she asks me how was my day?’

  Cass sighed and picked up another USB stick. This featured a well-known local orthopaedic surgeon. She was glad when her mobile rang.

  ‘Detective Diamond? This is Lyndall Symonds. I’m back in Cairns.’

  ‘Oh hello. Thanks so much for calling. You must be very tired.’

  ‘I’m awake enough to talk if that would still be of some use to you. But maybe there have been other developme
nts?’

  ‘Well, yes, there have, but I’d really like to hear what you have to say.’

  It was arranged that Lyndall would come into Sheridan Street straight away.

  ‘Sorry fellas,’ Cass said smugly. ‘I have to interview an important witness.’

  Cass met Lyndall in the foyer, and was immediately warmed by her ready smile and relaxed manner.

  ‘I thought we might get some coffee and take it up to my office. You might need it after your travels!’

  ‘Thanks, I’d love a coffee. Umm … you do have espresso?’

  Cass laughed. ‘We do. We wouldn’t work here without it.’

  Back in the office, Lyndall sat across the desk from Cass.

  ‘You’ve been on holiday in France?’ Cass asked.

  ‘Well – kind of. I’ve, er, met someone there who I’ve been to see.’

  ‘Right. I take it that person has nothing at all to do with any of the Janviers?’

  ‘Nothing at all.’

  Lyndall took out her notes. ‘I spent some time on the plane getting my thoughts in order. It’s been a while since I last saw Michel as a patient. I needed to refresh my memory. My actual patient notes are all in my rooms. Of course I can’t let you have those or anything confidential in them without a subpoena, but I’ve noted down what I think I can tell you, given what you’ve told me so far. Is there any more news? Have you found Michel?’

  ‘No, although we do have some new leads today.’

  ‘Can you tell me any more about how and where, and when, Odile died?’

  ‘When? Probably around 29 January, a few days before the cyclone. Where? Probably in the rainforest outside Kuranda. You know Davies Creek?’

  Lyndall nodded.

  ‘About five kilometres past the picnic ground. It’s quite a remote spot. How? We’re still not certain. She may have died from exposure. Or she may have been killed and left there. Or possibly, though it seems less likely, killed somewhere else and taken there. She was certainly not strangled or shot, that much we have made public, so I can certainly tell you.’

  Cass was planning to let Lyndall do as much talking as possible before she revealed any of the information they’d found in the Portsmith unit. She was keen to see what Lyndall knew about Janvier’s very peculiar habits and tendencies. And if she was aware of what had been going on, had she felt compelled to keep quiet because it was confidential patient information?

  Lyndall spread out her notes and began.

  Cass listened closely, fleshing out what they already knew about the Janviers’ earlier lives from the French police. She knew that Michel’s father had sent him away, and had paid a modest amount ever since to keep him away. The father had remarried after the death of his first wife, and had adopted the three sons of his second wife, transferring most of his property to them.

  ‘Can you tell me anything about his reasons for seeing you that’s not confidential?’ Cass asked. ‘Anything that might help us find where he’s gone and what he’s done? The Hermès scarves, for example, what’s the story there?’

  Lyndall thought for a moment. Odile was dead. Some of the scarves were in the possession of the police. Clearly they already knew quite a bit about Michel. There was no reason not to give some explanation, she decided.

  ‘You’ve done some psychology,’ she asked Cass, ‘in your police training?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ve got a degree in criminology.’

  ‘Oh!’ Lyndall was impressed. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what I think could help with your investigations.

  ‘Michel Janvier has a classic case of masochism. He’s in what is, for him, an indissoluble relationship with his wife Odile who I think exhibits – although I have never met her – classic signs of sadism. But most couples in such situations, as you’ll know, are role-players in a sexual script and they understand each other’s parts. They know where to end the role-playing and the infliction of pain. They derive their pleasure, sexual and otherwise, from the “play” aspect of their roles. Michel would like the relationship to be like that. He’s what’s called a “bottom” personality and he would like Odile to be a proper “top”. But while Odile certainly takes the dominating role she also really enjoys inflicting pain. Both physical and psychological pain. This tendency can’t be controlled by Michel but nor can he leave her, something which her sons have been able to do.’

  ‘And the scarves?’ asked Cass. ‘They have some role in this? In their sexual relationship?’

  ‘Yes. Michel also has a sexual fetish that dominates his life, and his fetish object is the Hermès scarf. When he first came to see me eleven years ago he needed a Hermès scarf to be aroused but he was still capable of sex with his wife occasionally. He has since become impotent in any situation except when he is alone with a particular Hermès scarf. The scarf has a pattern of horses and chains.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Cass. ‘That’s what we found. Horses and chains.’

  Lyndall absorbed that with interest before going on. ‘Michel told me how Odile would taunt him by tying him up in her bedroom with several Hermès scarves, then spending a long time dressing and making herself up while he watched but couldn’t move. Then she would take the favourite scarf away from Michel. This would make Michel frantic. Finally she would let him have the scarf but she immediately left the house. Michel hated all this but he couldn’t do anything to stop it.’

  ‘But,’ said Cass, ‘he was much stronger than her. There are photos of him in his gym, in the Earlville house. He was really into body building.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lyndall answered, ‘he’s physically stronger, but psychologically she’d completely got the upper hand. And he had no insight whatever into this.’

  ‘So do you think he could have taken his wife out into the bush, tied her up with the scarves that matter so much to him, and left her there?’

  ‘Well,’ said Lyndall, ‘I think it’s very unlikely in the relationship as I have understood it. I think something else, something major, would have to have happened to bring about such a change. But the relationship’s even more complicated than the fetishism and the sado-masochism.

  ‘The sexual aspects of the relationship gradually spread so completely across their private and domestic lives that they formed a complete system of delusions about who they are. Michel now believes that Odile was an important Parisian society hostess and that he is her servant or even her slave. Not having had Odile as a patient I cannot say for sure but she seems to share this delusion, in fact, almost certainly initiated the idea. What I know of her behaviour from Michel and Dominic, her appearance when I’ve seen her in public, and the amounts of money I understand she spends on clothes and makeup, all confirm a diagnosis in Odile of a psychotic delusion, a delusion now shared by her husband.

  ‘There is a name for this in psychiatry, which funnily enough, is French. Folie à deux. Double madness.’

  Cass considered all she’d heard for a few moments. Then she said: ‘What about the children? Did this start when they were still at home? Or only once they’d left?’

  ‘As far as Dominic’s concerned,’ answered Lyndall, ‘it’s not too much to say that Odile was always motivated to use him against Michel, maybe even before he was born. She found herself fairly much alone when they moved to Cairns. She could not go back to France without losing even more face than she already had when her engagement was broken off, and Michel could not go back there as long as he was accepting money from his father. She had no job skills, she had never had any kind of real training or work in her life. Damian was a complete accident; he was born a little more than a year after Dominic. Michel told me that she wanted an abortion but it couldn’t be done in Queensland at that time. In fact she seems to have done less harm to Damian than she did to Dominic. Perhaps because from very early on Dominic tried to stand up for his little brother.

  ‘Michel worked at a variety of jobs in Cairns and for a while it seems he was reasonably well adjusted. But he didn’t make a lot of money, even w
ith his father’s allowance, and never enough to satisfy Odile’s demands. Because she was always wanting new clothes and shoes and visits to hairdressers and so on. Even though they had very little social life. I think people in Cairns found her odd and aloof and she considered herself superior to them. She did learn English, mostly from watching television.’

  ‘The clothes and shoes, they were perhaps part of her thinking she was a Paris celebrity?’ asked Cass.

  Lyndall nodded. ‘Yes, I think that started out as a kind of justification for all the excesses, and gradually became a full-blown delusion.

  ‘Also, as she gradually developed her dominant role in the sexual relationship, she extended this into their domestic arrangements. Quite soon Michel was doing all the cleaning and washing as well as the gardening, the shopping and the cooking. Over the past eleven years that I’ve known Michel it’s been clear that he does all this and always with heavy criticism from her. He never gets it right, so he has to be punished, mostly by her tying him up. He has to plead with her for hours to be untied. Eventually she gives in and then he’s allowed to be alone with the Hermès scarf. She also insists on him working out and staying at a certain weight. She doesn’t let him into the house until he’s put in the time she prescribes in his gym.

  ‘So to answer your question about the children – I think all this has developed gradually and become more and more bizarre over the past ten years since the boys left home. What was originally straight sado-masochism has become more and more delusional. When they were a family and the boys had to go to school and so on, outside reality intruded to some extent and there was at least a semblance of sanity in their daily life. Since it’s been just them in the house they’ve retreated almost completely from the rest of the world. The result is the delusion that both of them hold – the folie à deux – that she is an important person in France and not an Earlville housewife, and he is her slave.’