by C F Dunn
I was thankful we had beaten Staahl’s team to it and his chair sat empty as we passed. One of the junior defense clerks was reading the morning edition of the local paper, hurriedly folding it out of sight as I sat down. Quick she might have been, but not so quick that I hadn’t seen the headline:
Revelations As
Kinky S & M Sex Scandal Trial Continues
Duffy shrugged apologetically.
I turned away and searched the room, purposefully avoiding the eyes of any of those who tried to engage with mine. Monica was not where she had been on Friday but sitting in the third row from the front, so carefully positioned it could hardly have been coincidental. I had hoped she wouldn’t appear, thwarted as she had been yesterday, but she saw me and smiled, raising the tips of her fingers in a wave that might as well have been an obscene gesture, because that was exactly what she meant by it. I looked down at my hands on the edge of the table and contemplated murder. Everything I had heard about Monica – from her own lips or from others – pointed towards a narcissistic, self-obsessed woman. Unable or unwilling to look beyond her own desires, her manipulation of Maggie bordered on abusive, and that she delighted in the chaos she caused others I considered out-and-out perverse.
After a few minutes of trying in vain to evoke a reaction from me, she gave up and instead made a fuss of unfolding a newspaper and holding it in front of her with the headline prominently displayed.
Staahl arrived, flanked by two sergeants, and I fought the familiar pall of revulsion. Yet, in the longing look he gave me as he passed, I thought I detected something else: a corrupted delusion that somehow what he had done was right. Staahl was dangerous because he believed he was right, but he wasn’t evil. What he had done was evil, but the rest was just madness and somehow, in all of this stuff we were dealing with, we had lost sight of that fact. He wasn’t controlling this game any more than I was. Staahl was dangerous because he could be manipulated by someone more cunning and devious than he was. But there was one facet of his personality I wondered if Monica had overlooked. While she was cold, calculating, and consistent, he had that one element insanity conveyed that she lacked: he was unpredictable. I still feared him, of course – the lingering memory of his brutality caused fissures of terror to surface like burning magma through a fault – yet he was weak because he was as much a victim of his desire as I had been to his knife. I put my hand to my throat where he had held the cold blade, finding the empty space where my cross had been, and instantly regretted the action.
It was the turn of the Staahl’s team to produce witnesses. I tensed in anticipation.
Horatio straightened his broad silk tie and approached the bench, turning neatly on one heel to face both the waiting crowd and the jury, measuring time, using all the space available to him to make his presence felt. He smiled a lot; in fact, I realized, he smiled all the time. His mouth lifted where it should but his eyes remained the same – expressionless, blank – like a shark.
“Your Honour, ladies and gentlemen, prosecution calls Dr Margaret Lynes.”
Behind me I heard an exclamation. Henry hadn’t anticipated her being fit to take the stand, which meant Matthew didn’t know either. Horatio must have worked some magic to get her this far; how much further was he prepared to go? Maggie knew everything needed to discredit our testimony, and she could expose Matthew to the world. He had always maintained she wouldn’t, but who knew what lengths she might be prepared to go to since our confrontation at Christmas, and with the manipulation of her mother and the ruthless counsel? After what had happened at the funeral and Monica’s revelation, Maggie was as about as reliable as fractured ice on a pond.
I started to reach out to gain Duffy’s attention, but stopped. If Duffy knew of Maggie’s instability she would use it to undermine her credibility as a witness, but it might also reveal Monica’s involvement and my prior knowledge. Questions would reveal cracks in our story, and begin investigations that would lead goodness only knew where. Ultimately there was so much more at stake than my losing this case.
I watched Maggie curiously as she took the oath and sat down. Her movements were efficient, as smooth as Matthew’s and almost as elegant. Her silver-white hair had grown since Christmas, and it looked softer, more becoming, as it framed her pale face. She no longer wore solid black, but a well-cut, flattering dark grey dress suit that made her look professional without being too severe. Staahl’s bunch had done a good job. Despite all that had happened yesterday, today she appeared to be self-possessed and in control.
“Are you OK, hun?” Duffy whispered. I unclenched my fists and forced my fingers to relax.
“Yes, thanks.”
Horatio looked particularly smug as he approached her. “Dr Lynes, before we begin examining the evidence, the jury might be wondering if there is a familial connection between you and Dr Matthew Lynes, so for the sake of clarity, please explain the nature of your relationship.”
Staring at the wavy dark grain running through the light wood of the table, I waited. A movement behind me, and a quiet word spoken quickly, told me Henry and Pat were also acutely aware of the potential danger.
“I am Dr Lynes’ older sister.”
I exhaled and dared to look at her. She flicked a glance in my direction and beyond to her family.
“Thank you. You are chief clinical psychiatrist in charge of the psychiatric unit at the Memorial Hospital, where Kort Staahl was taken shortly after his arrest. In your capacity as clinical psychiatrist, please explain what you were required to do by the Superior Court.”
“It was my role to assess Professor Staahl’s mental state during the commitment period and to report to the Commissioner of Health and Human Services on his competency to stand trial.”
“And what were your conclusions, Dr Lynes?”
Although she continued to address the counsel, her eyes briefly met those of Staahl and his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “That Professor Staahl is competent to stand trial.”
What was she playing at? Had she not understood what Monica had done to sabotage the evidence? Surely she wasn’t going to sit there and tell the court that Staahl was sane? Surely she wasn’t going to lie? Or was she as delusional as the man she had assessed? Did she believe the fabrication her mother had woven between them?
“Forgive my ignorance, Dr Lynes, but what does that mean in layman’s terms?”
“It means that Kort Staahl was aware of what he did and in control of his actions.”
I looked swiftly at Duffy, but her face told me nothing.
“When you assessed Professor Staahl, what explanation did he give you for what happened on the evening of October 31st?”
“He said that he met Professor D’Eresby in the atrium.”
“Met Professor D’Eresby – by accident, do you mean?”
“No, he said that they arranged to meet.”
I sat forward abruptly, my teeth clenched. Duffy put a restraining hand on my arm. From his place between two clerks of his team, Staahl listened motionless and impassive.
“Now, let me get this straight. Kort Staahl told you that he had prearranged to meet with Ms D’Eresby at the atrium on that evening? So she was aware that he would be there?”
“That is what he said, yes.”
“I think that members of the jury might be wondering what this attractive young woman was doing meeting a colleague in somewhat odd circumstances when she was supposed to be at the college dinner. Did Professor Staahl say why they had arranged to meet?”
Maggie’s eyes slid towards me as she spoke. “Professor Staahl said that Professor D’Eresby wanted to meet to enact a fantasy.”
“Can you be more precise, Dr Lynes?”
“He said that Professor D’Eresby had a sadomasochistic fetish she wanted to explore with him. Meeting in a public place when she should have been at the dinner was part of that fantasy, and the illicit nature of the meeting intensified the sexual tension they would have experienced.”
I clasped a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to cry out in protest.
Duffy spoke softly, hardly moving her lips. “It’s just part of the game, Emma – don’t let it get to you.”
Horatio went into full swing. “And Professor Staahl was willing to go along with her wishes?”
“Yes, Kort Staahl freely admitted taking part in sadomasochistic sexual fantasies on previous occasions.”
“With Ms D’Eresby?”
“No, with other willing participants.”
“Has Professor Staahl a history of mental health illness, Dr Lynes?”
“No, none on record.”
“So from a clinical point of view, Kort Staahl’s behaviour was deviant but not criminal?”
“Objection!” Duffy sprang to her feet, hands flat on the table in front of her. “Your Honour, the witness is not in a position to make judgment on a point of law which is beyond her professional knowledge.”
“Sustained,” the judge said dryly. “Rephrase your question, counsel.”
Horatio smiled. “Dr Lynes, in your capacity as a senior clinical psychiatrist of many years standing, in your opinion, was the defendant acting with criminal intent?”
“No, Professor Staahl understood Professor D’Eresby to be a fully cognisant and consenting partner. While Kort Staahl describes himself as needing to dominate in any partnership, he feels dependent on the submissive element’s willing participation. There would be no gratification without this. He is… besotted with her.”
“Thank you, Dr Lynes. Please remain on the witness stand. My colleague might have some questions for you.”
“Darn right I do,” Duffy muttered and made to rise, but Horatio waved her back.
“If counsel for the defense would indulge me for a moment?” She sat down again, slowly, and he raised a lofty hand. “Thank you, ma’am. For the benefit of the jury, let me clarify that an act that is repugnant to many people does not necessarily constitute a crime if there is no criminal intent on the part of the individual. Let me be clear about this point. Kort Staahl openly admits taking part in sadomasochistic acts that were agreed beforehand and consensual in nature. That is, he had no intent of causing grievous harm to another, and that Ms D’Eresby suffered hurt was entirely accidental and aggravated by the intervention of Dr Lynes. This was a private matter between the individuals concerned. We are in this court today because one of those individuals…” he raised his finger and directed the jury’s attention towards me, “… caught in – the – act by Dr Lynes, chose to defend her reputation by accusing her lover – my client – of criminal intent, thus robbing him of his livelihood and his reputation.” He circled the air with his finger and let the accusation settle like dust upon the room. “My client, formally of sound mind and blameless repute, suffered months of mental anguish as a result. As you have heard from Dr Margaret Lynes, Kort Staahl is not mentally ill. His is a lifestyle choice, conducted in seclusion for the mutual entertainment of him and his partner. What, ladies and gentlemen, are we to think if such private matters are made public? How many people here have individual pleasures that involve none other than the couple, but who wish them to remain private for fear their reputation might be called into question? I, for one, have a passion for ice cream.” He let the laughter subside before continuing. “Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen, reputation is no laughing matter, as my client has found to his cost.” He bowed his head in momentary reflection. “Your witness, counsel.”
Duffy didn’t rise immediately, but sucked her teeth thoughtfully for a few seconds until the judge squinted at us. “Your witness, counsel?”
“Thank you, Your Honour,” she said, rising and approaching Maggie. “Dr Lynes, can you describe the defendant’s mental state at, or as near to, the time at which he was committed for observation and assessment to your care?”
“He was very calm.”
“That was not what I asked. What was his mental state, Dr Lynes?”
Maggie shot her an acid look that would have dissolved carbon.
“Professor Staahl appeared to be in control and without evident psychosis.”
“But looks can be deceiving, can’t they, Dr Lynes? Is this what you would normally expect when a person has been placed under arrest for a serious and aggravated assault on another person?”
“It can be a shock reaction to extreme events, yes.”
“But would you describe it as normal behaviour?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Isn’t it also the case that persons with certain mental health issues might also display calmness – or a lack of compassion – towards a victim, let’s say, indicative of a dissociative disorder?”
Horatio waved his notes in the air. “Objection. The witness has already testified to the defendant’s mental state. This is a waste of court time.”
The judge had been taking notes; her pen hovered over the paper. “Is there a point to this question, defense counsel?”
“Yes, there is, Your Honour, and if counsel for the prosecution will return the favour and be a little patient here, I will allude to it in due course.”
The judge’s sigh ended in a compact cough. “I’ll allow it.”
Duffy persevered. “Dr Lynes, you stated that Kort Staahl said he believed that Emma D’Eresby had consented to – instigated – sadomasochistic acts, did you not?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And why did you believe him?”
Maggie blinked. She wavered, trying to formulate an answer, but Duffy didn’t give her the chance. “I mean, what made you think he told you the truth? Why couldn’t he be lying?”
“He… had no reason to lie. Professor Staahl was open and honest about his sexual preferences. He regarded them as normal behaviour, he had nothing to hide. Over a lengthy period I was able to form an accurate profile of my client and, given my extensive experience, I had no reason to believe he told me anything other than the truth. I am rarely incorrect in the assessment of my patients.” There – the touch of arrogance slipping in again, just as it had in Matthew’s study at Christmas. Two of the jury members exchanged glances.
Duffy wasn’t impressed. “Unless, of course he is mentally delusional, or guilty of a serious assault with a deadly weapon that would have cost the life of this young woman, and he manipulated you into thinking otherwise, Dr Lynes?”
Maggie’s leg twitched, not so much as to be noticeable but enough to tell me that whatever was holding her together was beginning to come unstuck.
The judge cleared her throat and took a sip of water from the glass beside her.
“Please answer the question put to you by counsel, doctor.”
“It is possible he lied, yes; but I don’t believe it to be so,” she added defiantly.
Duffy smiled. “Thank you, Dr Lynes. No more questions – for now.”
People stretched and yawned and blinked, exchanging comments with their neighbours as they eased their bones. It neared midday but the sullen light had intensified, and someone switched on the overhead lamps. The judge called Horatio Pig to her bench and, after a moment, the court clerk announced early recess for lunch.
Dad leaned over the back of my chair. “Emma, would you like some fresh air?”
Duffy fastened the clasp on her briefcase and swung it onto her shoulder. “I don’t think it advisable, not after this morning’s brouhaha. Use my office – Leon’ll fetch whatever you need.”
Dad heaved on his heavy winter coat and pulled his brown leather gloves over his stubby fingers. He looked absurdly military and utterly British. “I’ll take a stroll, Em. Don’t worry, I know what you’ll want to eat. I won’t be long.”
Once in her office, I collapsed into the chair behind Duffy’s desk. Pushing an empty coffee cup out of the way, I rested my head on my folded arms and closed my eyes. This morning had been a nightmare not helped by my lack of sleep. I didn’t hear the door open.
“Hello.”
I was halfway across t
he room before I stopped abruptly. “You didn’t believe any of that, did you?”
It took just two of Matthew’s strides to reach me, and he lifted me off the ground, leaving my feet dangling. “You should know me better than to ask that,” he chided gently into my hair. I inhaled deep lungfuls of his wholesome, outdoor scent, my face crammed into his neck. He held me for a few seconds more. “Emma – listen to me…” He put me back on my feet and looked into my face gravely. “You must tell Duffy what Maggie told you at Christmas about Staahl, and about the book. You have to tell her she said he is insane.”
“I can’t do that!”
“You have to – it’s the only way you’ll get some sort of justice and put Staahl away where he can’t hurt you.”
“Matthew, if I tell Duffy she’ll want to know why I didn’t say anything before, and she’ll ask how I came to meet Maggie. It’ll open a can of worms and I can’t have Duffy asking questions that might reveal our relationship or anything about you. Besides, it could ruin Maggie’s career if it exposes her to accusations of either perjury or incompetence, and she couldn’t cope with that now.”
He looked as if he was silently counting to ten before he spoke again. “This trial isn’t about Staahl’s reputation now any more than it is about yours, Monica made that clear. Whatever the outcome, I think that there is a good chance that Staahl will be ultimately released, given Maggie’s testimony. We know now that her evidence is based on false assumptions. If that is the case, Staahl could be back at college in a matter of days and he won’t hesitate to come after you again, and if I don’t kill him first, God alone knows what other women he will mutilate or murder before he’s caught.”
“Don’t! Don’t talk about killing – not even in jest. There has to be some way other than telling Duffy.” I wasn’t at all certain that he had been joking; his eyes blazed with tension.
“There isn’t. Tell Duffy and get her to push Maggie to her limits; she has to retract her statement. She is forsworn, Emma – she has deceived us all.”