Family Reunion

by Robert F Barker

  ‘It was the only way to calm them down. I am glad you are home. I was running out of songs.’

  He went to her and put an arm round her waist, feeling the stiffness of the dress’s brocade, wondering what she was wearing underneath. He kissed her, lightly, on the lips. ‘I’m sorry. You know how it is, sometimes.’

  The green eyes flashed. ‘Yes. I do know how it is.’ She turned towards the stairs. ‘And now you can entertain them while I change back into something comfortable.’

  He tried to placate her. ‘Do you have to?’

  Stopping on the bottom stair, she threw a glance at the children. Having realised the impromptu concert was over they were already arguing about which movie they would watch next. The look she gave him was pointed. ‘Definitely. And next time please give me some warning if I am going to be nanny for the day.’

  As she disappeared up the stairs - at least the new handrail still seemed solid - Carver let out a sigh. There had been a time when her arousing home ‘recitals’ were the prelude to an evening of fine wine, good food, and other things - not necessarily in that order. But it hadn’t happened since they’d moved out of the city flat that for eighteen months had served as their temporary home. And for all the lengths she’d gone to to entertain the children, he could tell she was still simmering. He didn’t look forward to conversation after the children were in bed.

  He turned, eyes searching for the TV control.

  ‘Right, what’s it to be? Toy Story, or Shrek?’

  CHAPTER 24

  Soon after they’d arrived at the restaurant, Mikayel Kahramanyan found himself thinking of poor Gadara. Of how she would have enjoyed being there, what she would have made of it all, what they would have talked about. But as if she somehow sensed what he had been through and was ready for it, Jess skillfully diverted his attention away from the dark reflections that threatened to cast a shadow over the evening.

  Now, half way through a juicy peppered steak, Mikayel had to admit that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d relaxed in the way he had the past hour. So what if Finnegan’s Grill on Lowry Warf was only a, ‘Family Restaurant,’ as Jess described it? By the standards he was used to, it was most agreeable, whilst the food, hearty and plentiful, was mouth-wateringly delicious. And thanks to his interesting - not to mention attractive - dinner partner, he wasn’t missing Carver’s company one bit.

  During the afternoon he had sensed that something in the detective had changed since their first meeting. On that occasion, Carver had been full of under-stated confidence, engaging easily with his audience, whether to clarify some point he had made or to respond to a delegate whose experience was at odds with his own. Carver’s reaction was always the same, pointing out that he was a detective, not an academic, and that he wasn’t suggesting that his approach to the investigation of ‘Series Crime’ was necessarily scientifically valid. All he knew was, that in his experience of Repeat Offending - which Kahramanyan gathered was wider than most - he had identified some common threads. And if he became involved in such cases again he would make sure he paid them special attention.

  Mikayel recalled how Carver’s low-key delivery imbued his ideas with an authority they may not have had had he been more forthright in his approach. Certainly, his well-documented experience only served to enhance his reputation in the eyes of those present as, ‘Someone who should know what he is talking about.’

  But since meeting with him again, Mikayel had concluded that something must have happened to knock him back. He wondered whether Carver’s present, non-operational role was the cause, or the result. After his presentation that afternoon he had picked up snippets from a couple of detectives that hinted Carver was working under constraints. He had been noticeably reticent to contribute anything to the question and answer session that followed Mikayel’s presentation, and the psychiatrist was surprised when it was Carver himself who drove him to his hotel, leaving the others to work on.

  Taking advantage of the lull in their conversation, Mikayel sneaked another glance at his dinner partner as she tucked into her Dover sole. It was strange how the change in her was the almost exact opposite to that in Carver.

  When he first met her, she and Carver hadn’t worked together long. He remembered how she had then seemed in thrall to her more experienced boss. ‘Just learning the ropes,’ she admitted to him. But now she was much more self-assured, carrying herself with a cool haughtiness he found intriguing, both as man and psychiatrist.

  Nor was he the only one, judging by the reactions he’d observed in some of the detectives that afternoon. Apart from the way some of them eyed her now and then, there was always a respectful silence whenever she spoke. It surprised him. He had come away from his previous visit with an impression - mistaken he now realised - that the British Police Service was heavily sexist, and that women may struggle to make an impression. Now as he watched her, poised and confident, he found himself wondering what kind of experiences had wrought such differing changes in the two.

  But it was clear she and Carver were still close. Their body language said as much, the way they kept checking each other out as he was speaking, their mirroring behaviours. Had it not been for his training, he doubted he would have noticed most of it. And though he still didn’t know if there was anything more to their relationship than work, he was in no doubt that if she had a mind to do so, Jess would be able to explain exactly how and why her former partner had changed.

  As he leaned across to top up her glass – she had declared herself happy to share his Merlot with her fish - she put her hand over it.

  ‘That’s enough for me thanks, Mikayel. I’m driving.’

  He settled for pouring himself a refill, and sat forward.

  ‘I must thank you for postponing whatever you had planned for this evening to look after me. It is very good of you to step in for Jamie.’

  She waved it away. ‘No problem. Besides, I like it when a man owes me one. It gives me power over him.’

  As she said it, he wasn’t sure if he caught a mischievous look and he blinked, uncertain if the interpretation that had popped into his brain was what she intended. Don’t be stupid.

  ‘Nevertheless, I am sure there are other things you could be doing rather than looking after some boring old Armenian.’

  Stopping her fork halfway to her mouth, she gave a look that said she wasn’t taken in by his attempt to run himself down. ‘Hardly that old, Mikayel. And definitely not boring. I’m always interested to hear about other parts of the world. Armenia sounds fascinating, if maybe a little, under-developed for my tastes.’

  He smiled. ‘Under-developed is a good phrase.’ He drank some wine. ‘Still, it is a pity that Jamie could not be with us.’ She nodded her agreement. As he watched her working at filleting the rest of her fish, he dipped a toe. ‘Jamie is, erm, a friend, as well as a colleague perhaps?’

  She paused in her eating again long enough to peer at him through long lashes.

  ‘A friend, yes. But nothing else, if that is what you are asking.’

  He pretended innocence, and she smiled before returning to her surgery.

  ‘It is nothing serious that prevented him being with us I hope?’ He caught the flash of another, suspicious, look before she answered, straight-faced.

  ‘A home commitment that’s all. I think his life’s a bit up in the air at the moment.’

  Sensing an opportunity, Mikayel made a point of showing understanding. ‘I get the feeling he is under some pressures.’ She didn’t respond. ‘Is it his work, may I ask, or…?’

  She finished chewing, washed it down with the last of her wine, then dabbed her napkin to her mouth before sitting back in her seat and pinning him with a stare. It was a carefully executed sequence and Mikayel had no choice but to respond as was polite.

  ‘I am sorry. I am asking questions about things that are none of my business. Please forgive me. I find it hard these days to switch off.’

  Thinking he’d seen a twitch
of amusement in her eyes, he fought to stop himself smiling. She was as adept at conveying meaning without speaking as anyone he had met. For several seconds she regarded him through half closed eyes, as if weighing him up. She pushed her glass forward.

  ‘I will have another wine after all, if you don’t mind, Doctor.’

  He waited while she took a few sips. Deciding how much to say? It was something he had seen many times. Once people realised he was happy to talk, they often found the opportunity for a free consultation too good to resist. The interesting thing was, they invariably talked about others. People like to assume they are normal.

  ‘What makes you think Jamie is under pressure?’

  He shrugged, remembering to keep it casual. ‘He is different from when we last met. He seems… restrained, as if he is holding himself back.’ He saw her bite her lip, hesitant. A loyal friend. She would need a push. ‘He is not happy in this work he is doing?’

  She gave a shrug. ‘I don’t think it’s that. He’s done this sort of work before, was good at it too. It’s more to do with… other things.’

  He let his puzzlement show. She drew a deep breath.

  ‘Jamie has been through… difficult times. A couple of his cases weren’t easy. It… affected him. He’s made a promise not to get involved like that again.’

  ‘Who has he promised?’

  ‘Himself. His boss. His girlfriend.’

  ‘Girlfriend?’

  She told him about Rosanna.

  As he listened, Mikayel’s suspicions grew and his instincts took over. There seemed more than he had first imagined. But it would not be the sort of thing a friend would reveal to a relative stranger. He leaned forward.

  ‘I do not usually pry, but I can see you are worried about him. I suspect Jamie is not someone who would rush to seek professional help, even if he needed it. If an opinion would help… I am very discreet.’

  The way she looked straight at him, eyes flaring, he thought for a moment he had gone too far, had offended her. But then she shifted her attention to her glass, turning it as she stared into its plummy depths. Suddenly she lifted it, drained its contents then poured herself more. Putting the glass down, she glared at him.

  ‘How much do you know about Jamie’s previous cases?’

  ‘Not a great deal. When I was at the seminar where we met previously, they played the video of the TV programmes about the murders of those escort girls. It was in the news at that time because the man responsible….’ He clicked his fingers.

  ‘Edmund Hart.’

  ‘Him. He had hanged himself in prison not long before.’ As he spoke, Mikayel recalled the evening he and several other overseas delegates sat through the videos of the documentary series that had been made about the case, the animated discussions that followed. A couple of English police officers present had some fringe contact with the investigation and claimed to have ‘insights’ they were happy to share. The programme was apparently originally intended as an exposé of racism within the British CID, but when the body of Hart’s third victim – they were all high-class ‘Escort’ girls - turned up on the area where the programme makers were filming, they re-wrote their plans to follow the investigation, fly-on-the-wall style. Not shown until after the trial, the series gave a fascinating, but often harrowing insight into never-before-seen Major Crime Investigation procedures. It proved popular with viewers. In particular Mikayel remembered the way the programme makers credited the quietly-spoken Detective Inspector who only joined the team after the fourth murder with turning the investigation round - something Carver was quick to deny during his talking-head spot.

  ‘I didn’t do anything special,’ Mikayel recalled him insisting. ‘Some of the stuff I picked up during a stint with the FBI’s Behavioural Science Unit was useful later on, but everyone worked bloody hard on that enquiry. I just happened to come in at a time when things were starting to move.’ He didn’t disclose what the ‘things’ were but another of the detectives interviewed was more candid.

  ‘The enquiry was going nowhere until DI Carver joined us. It was him who came up with the information that led us to Hart.’ But what that ‘information’ was, no one would say.

  Interested to know what Jess had to tell, Mikayel gave her his full attention.

  ‘Jamie had some problems after that case. The truth is he got a bit more involved with a witness than perhaps he should have. The night they arrested Hart, he raped and nearly killed her. Jamie blamed himself. It took him a while to get over it. It certainly knocked his confidence for a time.’

  ‘A breakdown of some kind?’

  Jess rocked a hand. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘This witness. She was one of these escort girls?’

  Jess hesitated. ‘Yes.’

  ‘They are no longer involved I take it?’

  Jess shook her head, cast her gaze down. A darkness seemed to envelop her. She took a deep breath. ‘Are you aware of what happened after the Hart case? The Worshipper killings?’

  The psychiatrist looked blank. ‘These past years, I have barely kept up with what has been happening in my own country, never mind the rest of the world.’

  Jess nodded. For long seconds she hesitated, as if ordering her thoughts. Raising her glass she took a couple of sips, readying herself. Then she began.

  Over the next ten minutes, Mikayel listened as Jess told of the events that had dominated Jamie Carver’s, and to some extent her own life the past three years. She began with the Worshipper Killings themselves, and the decision to enlist the aid of someone the investigators thought may point them towards the killer, what happened after. As Jess told it, the horrific murder of the witness who had so narrowly escaped murder at Hart’s hands the first time, was undoubtedly the worst part. Mikayel saw at once the effect such a horror could have on someone, even a hardened detective. But there was more. The killer also claimed one of Carver’s detective colleagues and, right at the end, tried to kill Carver himself and his girlfriend. As Jess went on to describe the trail of murder, death and conspiracy that continued in the wake of the Worshipper Killer’s arrest and conviction, through elements in the British Government and higher echelons of the Police Service, and on to Paris, Mikayel had to make a conscious effort to stop his jaw dropping, several times. When she told of what had happened in Paris - more death, more personal loss for Carver and another, horrific final encounter - Mikayel wondered how he had managed to never hear any of it. But at that time he was struggling just to acquire the basic food and medical supplies he needed to keep his charges in the Institute alive. Jess concluded by telling of how she had to go to Paris and more or less physically drag Carver back to the UK. He was on the verge of dropping out altogether, ridden with guilt, self-doubt and grief. She finished with, ‘Afterwards, he went through another course of rehab and finally managed, thankfully, to pull himself back together. Enough to get back to some sort of work at any rate. Which is where you now find him.’ Settling back in her seat, she reached again for her wine.

  For almost a minute, Mikayel stared at her. Images of what Carver must have been through, the pressures he must have suffered, swirled about his psychiatrist’s brain. It did not take long for the pattern he knew was there to show itself. He had seen it before, many times.

  ‘My God,’ he said, eventually. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘No,’ Jess said. ‘You wouldn’t’

  Mikayel took up his own glass and also sat back, reflecting on all he had heard. It was an astounding story, one that fitted with what he already knew about Carver, and what he had seen for himself since his return to the UK. After several minutes he glanced up at Jess. She was staring into her glass, still dwelling it seemed on the matters he suspected were never far from her mind.

  ‘Now I understand,’ he said.

  ‘Understand what?’

  ‘His problems. What he is going through.’

  Jess’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think he has problems?’

  ‘Don’t you?’<
br />
  She stared at him. She and Carver were more than just colleagues. It would be hard for her to admit it to anyone, never mind a psychiatrist. But eventually the hardness in her face softened. Acceptance flooded in.

  ‘I suppose if I’m honest, yes. He does have a problem.’

  ‘Not just one. Several I suspect, given all you have told me. And no wonder. What he has been through, it is enough that even the strongest-minded person might struggle to cope.’

  Jess looked wary. ‘You think he’s not coping?’

  About to answer, Mikayel hesitated. Unwittingly, he had manoeuvred himself into a delicate situation. Carver was not his patient, even so, using his professional knowledge to speculate with another about a third party’s mental health made him uncomfortable. Apart from anything, it raised ethical issues. But then it was clear that Jess only had Carver’s best interests at heart. If by talking, it may help her to help him, then why not? It wasn’t as if he planned to remain in the UK long enough for there to be any come-back on him. Jess seemed to sense his dilemma.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mikayel. Anything you say will stay between us, no one else.’

  It decided him.

  ‘You must appreciate, this is only my observation, not any sort of diagnosis,’

  ‘Of course. Go on.’

  ‘I would say that in one sense he probably is coping, but only by avoiding.’

  ‘Avoiding what?’

  ‘Himself. His own instincts.’

  She stared at him, waiting. He continued.

  ‘From what I have seen, I believe Jamie is the sort of man who would normally do what he thinks is right, rather than worry about consequences, yes?’

  Jess thought on it. ‘When he was in Paris, he ignored a recall so that he could stay and save a girl’s life. He didn’t hesitate.’

  ‘Just so. And this case I have brought you today. This Vahrig Danelian. I suspect that Jamie has exactly the sort of knowledge and experience needed to find him?’ Jess nodded. ‘And yet, he seems willing to stay out of it.’