Courting Death

by Elleby Harper

  “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 mange 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.”

  Chapter 26

  Monday 18 December

  The instant the door to her studio apartment opened, Bex was hit with the fragrant scent of warm, beefy broth. She sniffed the enticing odors and her stomach rumbled. She had forgotten to eat during the day, her appetite simply disappearing. Now it returned with a vengeance.

  “Mom?”

  “Oh, good, you’re home,” Ruth greeted her. “I didn’t know what time you’d be back so I thought soup was a good option for dinner. It won’t spoil. Georgie pointed me in the direction of the local market and I bought a few bags of groceries. You were getting awfully low on staples, Bex.”

  “I never stockpiled enough to get low,” Bex admitted. She inhaled deeply. “Is that oxtail soup?”

  “Yes it is.” Ruth tossed Bex a smile. “I know it’s one of your favorites and I thought it would be perfect on a cold, wintery night like this.”

  Bex tugged off her boots and left them at the door. She piled her overcoat on top. The trip from the Tube to Georgie’s house had meant traipsing through the snowflakes. It looked like London might be in for a white Christmas after all.

  Ruth had cranked up the central heating. Heating was one thing Londoners did well, Bex had come to realize. Their air conditioning wasn’t worth shit but at least they stayed warm.

  “Thanks, Mom. It is my favorite and it smells delicious! What did you do to amuse yourself today?”

  Yesterday Ruth had dragged Bex to the local Church of England morning service and then they had spent the entire day trawling London’s extensive collection of museums and art galleries. Ruth had no interest in castles but she was a sucker for fine art. Bex was afraid to think what her mother had got up to while she was at work.

  “Oh, I did a bit of shopping.”

  Bex dropped her purse on the island bench and it bumped against a small, ornate box that hadn’t been there in the morning when she left for work.

  “What’s this?”

  “Look inside.”

  Bex opened the lid and pulled out a small packet of seeds and a paper certificate from the Amore Rose Registry. Quickly she scanned the words on the paper to learn that a unique seed pack had officially been named the “Zane Wynter Rose” as of 18 December and that the name would be stored for eternity.

  The writing blurred as her eyes teared.

  Ruth wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “I know you’ve set up Zane House in New York in his memory, but I wanted to mark today’s anniversary. I thought that, if you wanted to, when summer comes, you could plant some seeds in a pot and watch them grow. That way Zane can be part of your life here in London. The rest you could bring back to New York whenever you return. ”

  Bex swallowed a lump. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Ruth leaned in and hugged her. “Your dad and I, well, we can’t lose you, Bex.”

  “I know.”

  Parents had such high expectations for their kids. When one failed the bar, it
was left to the next to fill the breach. By running away to London she had let them down. But her mother was saying they hadn’t given up on her. That was fine with her, because she hadn’t given up on them either.

  Her phone trilled.

  “That’ll be Walt.” Hastily she swiped at her eyes before checking her messages. He had sent her a photo and she took a minute to soak in the image. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She called him back.

  “Walt, please don’t tell me that bright white ass belongs to you?” She chuckled down the line.

  “Not only me but the wrinkled cheek next to it belongs to Neil. What do you think?”

  Each man had had tattooed on a butt cheek, “Zane Wynter. A pain in the ass forever.”

  “Is that a removable tattoo?”

  “No way, baby, that’s here to stay. Neil and I decided we wanted to do more than raise a glass to Zane today. So we took our virgin flesh down to the local tattoo artist and let her do her job.”

  “I think you raised a few too many glasses to Zane before you hit the tattoo parlor.” Bex let her smile flood the words. She knew that was part of the reason Walt and Neil had done it, to cheer her up.

  “Well, I won’t deny we sank a couple of brewskis before we went. But pretty classy, huh, Bex?”

  “You and Neil are two crazy old men. Although you’re right, Zane would’ve loved it even though he’d tell you you’ve made an ass of yourself this time.”

  She could hear Walt and Neil roaring with drunken laughter. Zane’s dad was eighty-five so she wondered what the tattoo artist had thought.

  “At least you wouldn’t have needed proof of age. By the way, did you know mom was coming to London?”

  “I might’ve heard a whisper on the grapevine.” Walt’s voice was sheepish.

  “Some friend you are. Next time, give me a heads up!”

  * * *

  After Ruth left for her own room, Bex sat at her island bench, tapping away at her laptop. Sticky notes and scraps of paper filled with ideas for the teen drop-in center were scattered over the countertop. She keyed another sentence about the viable properties available that Reuben had sourced for her.

  She flipped over the business card given her by Lillian Perry and typed a new paragraph about the community support already on board. She used Walt’s notes to detail the hand-to-hand combat and self-defense activities he recommended. She was still hoping that Quinn’s friend would come through with some boxing bags. She had sourced a store that sold replica guns and knives because Walt insisted kids on the street needed training in how to handle weapons.

  Bex wrote with passion because she really believed in the value of what she was proposing. She was confident the report would be completed by Dresden’s end of month deadline.

  It was ten minutes to midnight when the passion poured out of her, leaving her slumped with exhaustion. In eleven minutes it would be a new day. She had survived her first year without Zane.

  She reached for her wallet and pulled out a black and white self-portrait of Zane as a broad-shouldered young man. Her fingers traced the line of his profile, all that was really visible. The photo had been taken years before she met Zane. As a professional photographer he was more comfortable behind the lens than in front of it, so she treasured the few photos she had of him.

  She lowered her head onto her arms and let the sobs overtake her. Time was supposed to heal. Nobody had ever told her how much time was required.

  Chapter 27

  Wednesday 20 December

  Reuben tracked down the information that Keith Carroll had been Skylar Mitchell’s first leader in the Kids Commando, but when they pulled Harley back into the station for questioning he refused to talk to them.

  “Have we located Skylar’s father?” Bex asked, struggling to keep her frustration under control. She paced the length of the briefing room wall.

  “The phone number and address that Helen Mitchell gave us are out of date. I’ve come up with nada on Liam Mitchell on the electoral roll,” Reuben admitted.

  “Anything on William Downer’s past patients?”

  “Two have got criminal records, but that was before they consulted Downer. That rules out my theory he’s a hypnotic criminal mastermind,” Eli said.

  “What have you found out about Downer’s background?”

  “He joined the Mental Wellness Clinic two years ago after taking a twelve month sabbatical to study adolescent psychology. Before that he worked for ten years in his own solo private practice, according to his records at the Clinic. Seems to have a squeaky clean professional reputation,” Idris answered. “I couldn’t find a criminal record for him. He’s not even on the system for a speeding ticket.”

  “What about relationships?”

  “Currently single and there’s no evidence that he’s involved in a relationship at the moment. According to his receptionist she thinks he was divorced a number of years ago, but he’s pretty cagey about his personal life. Doesn’t appear to have any kids.”

  “Alright, what other avenues haven’t we explored?”

  The energy in the room was flat and despondent. Avoiding eye contact, Eli, Idris and Reuben found something of interest on the briefing table in front of them. Eli studiously stirred his tea, Idris’s pen did a gymnastic workout over his knuckles and Reuben’s fingers got busy on his smart phone.

  Only Quinn stared past her to the set of crime scene photos on the notice board behind her. Skylar’s photo was there, mixed with Keith’s, Andrea’s and Harley’s.

  “If anyone knows if there was an abusive link between Keith Carroll and Skylar Mitchell it’s going to be Harley,” he said.

  “Last time we brought him in he refused to talk,” Idris snapped.

  “What if we get him hypnotized and then ask him questions? Just remove that conscious barrier so he’ll open up.”

  “What’s the point? Witness statements under hypnosis won’t hold up in a court of law.” Idris paused his pen in mid-flight.

  “I think it’s worth a shot to test our hypothesis and see if we’re on the right track with Skylar Mitchell. The only thing we know for a fact is that they knew each other through Kids Commando. Perhaps under hypnosis, Harley will reveal what sort of relationship his dad had with her. Isla might be able to persuade Harley to let a therapist put him under.”

  “You’re not thinking of using Downer are you?” Reuben asked.

  Quinn offered him a grin that was half grimace. “Much as I’d like to get that bastard back in here, I don’t think that’s the best option.”

  “Okay, it’s worth a shot since we seem to have stalled on other fronts,” Bex allowed. “Sort it out as soon as you can, Quinn.”

  * * *

  “Harley, do you know the girl in this photo?” Bex held the photo of Skylar Mitchell in front of him.

  Given what they suspected of Harley’s background, it was decided that Harley would be more open to being questioned by a woman. Isla sat next to him. Her hand rested reassuringly on his arm. On his other side sat Dr. Rayansh Chaudri, a nervous tic twitching his right eyelid making him look uncomfortable. Bex wondered how Isla had convinced him to participate in the afternoon’s proceedings.

  “Braveheart,” Harley mumbled.

  Harley had fallen under Chaudri’s hypnotic spell almost too easily. His eyes were open but it didn’t look like anyone was home, Bex thought, unnerved by his vacant stare.

  “How did you know her?”

  “She was in my dad’s group.”

  “Did your father ever pay her special attention?”

  “Yes. He especially liked the kids who were shy and didn’t talk much with the others. He talked to her a lot. Told her she had a lot of potential that he wanted to help her bring out.”

  “Was your father ever alone with her?”

  “Yes, he kept her at the hall sometimes at the end of the night when everyone else had gone home. When she moved onto another group, he arranged special private sessions with her at the ha
ll.”

  “Do you know what went on between your father and Braveheart?”

  Harley’s face twisted as strong emotions gripped him.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I already told Dr. Downer everything.”

  “What do you mean, Harley?” Bex pressed.

  Harley’s mouth trembled. His head swung from side to side as though he was looking for an escape.

  “What did you tell Dr. Downer, Harley?” Bex dialed down the unease in her voice.

  “It’s alright, Harley. You’re safe with us. No one is going to hurt you,” Isla patted his hand.

  “I told Dr. Downer all the things Dad did to her. Sometimes he made me videotape them when they were together.”

  “Did your father force Braveheart to have sex with him?”

  Harley’s lip quivered. “He forced her at first. But later, she wanted to. She told me she lived to please him, so that he would always pay attention to her. When he replaced her because she got too old, she cried. I thought she would be glad to be free, but she wasn’t. She told Dad she was going to kill herself if he didn’t take her back.”

  “When did you tell Dr. Downer this, Harley?”

  “When I saw the photo of Braveheart in his rooms.”

  Harley began to weep. The quiet sobs grew in intensity as he thrashed his arms. Quinn and Idris piled into the interview room to restrain him before he hurt himself or anyone else.

  “Snap him out of the hypnosis,” Bex ordered Chaudri, while the two men constrained him to the chair.

  When Harley came to his senses he resumed his apathetic attitude, eyes downcast and body curved despondently.

  “Harley, do you remember anything that we spoke about?” Bex asked him.

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Why do you let yourself be hypnotized?”

  Harley shrugged, his face a puzzled mask. “What do you mean? You wanted me to do it, so I did.”