Mind Games

by Heather W. Petty

  “You’ll end up just like her!” he shouted as they yanked him back.

  “Are you all right?” DS Day’s face came between mine and Father’s, and then DS Moriarty was on the floor with the officers, who’d seemed like his friends just minutes before, forcing shackles onto his wrists again.

  “Fine.” I waved Day away from me with the word and moved out of the room without looking back. “Restroom,” I said, when I heard him following me up the stairs.

  I ran ahead and quickly escaped into the nearest ladies’ room, but barely made it into a stall before everything crashed over me. I’d let him do it to me again. He was behind bars and I was free, and still he was the ogre growling and I was the little girl putting on airs. I tried to tell myself he was as wrong about me as he was wrong about everything else, but all I could see in my mind was the blank look on Lock’s face when he’d pictured who I’d be without the law.

  Am I more afraid of you or myself? he’d asked.

  I couldn’t see anything but Lock’s fear as he asked the question, even as my father’s voice came back to haunt me with another. You think someone’ll love you if they know the truth about who you are?

  “No,” I whispered aloud. “I don’t expect he will.”

  I swiped a few tears from my cheeks and tried to focus on the fact that my brothers were safe at home. None of them would be hiding away when I got there, waiting for me to patch up their wounds. And my father would be stuck in a cage for the rest of his life.

  That had to be enough for now.

  Chapter 8

  I was still shaky when I ventured from the ladies’ room and out into the echoing hall. I expected to be confronted by a harried DS Day but instead came face-to-face with the calm, disinterested gaze of Detective Inspector Mallory, who stood awkwardly in the middle of the hall with his hands pulled behind his back. He was even flanked by two uniformed policemen, making him look every bit the prisoner he deserved to be.

  “Were you crying, Miss Moriarty?”

  “What do you want?”

  “You are being detained.” He nodded to the officers, who started toward me from either side.

  I backed up until I was against the ladies’ room door. “What are you talking about?”

  Mallory didn’t answer, so when one officer reached for me, I made my sidestep as natural as possible, then walked forward, out of reach of the second, but all without seeming to dodge them. When I was mere inches from Mallory, I quietly said, “Call them off. I’ll go with you, but I won’t be manhandled over another of my father’s stupid games.”

  Mallory was just as quiet when he said, “This has nothing to do with your father.” He released his arms from behind his back and held a sword in front of me. My mother’s aikido sword, or at least an exact copy. “We got a tip from someone claiming that you threw this in the Regent’s Park lake.”

  It took everything in me not to react, but I perhaps allowed too much of a pause before I said, “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Not completely ridiculous. We found it right where the witness said it would be.”

  “And by ‘witness,’ you obviously mean my father.”

  “Do you blame him for everything?” Mallory motioned to his goons and then turned down another hall that held more interview rooms.

  As soon as I sat at the interview table, Mallory joined me, placing the sword on the table between us. He cleared his throat and one of the officers came in, glaring at me and placing a file folder in front of Mallory. Mallory waved him out. I waited patiently, even when the inspector took an obviously long time to peruse the papers in the folder. He finally looked up, but the minute he opened his mouth, I pressed call on my mobile, holding it to my ear before he could object.

  “Yes, Aunt Alice? The police are attempting to question me without my legal guardian present.”

  “What happened?” Alice asked. “Where are you?”

  “I understand. That’s what I thought you’d say. I’ll just stay here at the West End station until you come for me.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Of course I won’t answer their questions until you get here.”

  I hung up, placing the phone in front of me. Mallory tried his best not to reveal his irritation, but I watched his jaw clench and unclench, and his lips flattened when he reached to snatch my mobile off the table. He left without a word, leaving me to sit at the interview table, with nothing to do but think. The very last thing I wanted just then.

  Because if I thought honestly about all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, I’d have to admit that Mallory was right to say that my father wasn’t to blame for everything—at least he was right about the sword. My father had been in a drunken sleep when I took the sword from his room and disposed of it. There was no way he could have seen me in the park. Someone could have told him, I supposed, but there was no way he would sit on information like that and use it sparingly to torture me. No, if my father knew what I’d done, he’d have spilled it immediately to free himself and have me locked up.

  That meant Sherlock was right as well, and his concerns were justified. My father was still after me. I believed that completely. He wanted to free himself and get his sons back, and I was in his way. But the drawing and letter—my father knew nothing about those. Lock’s deductions about who sent them might not turn out to be accurate, but he was right that my father wasn’t the only one targeting me. Those letters could have come from anyone. And that meant sitting in a room alone with my swirling thoughts was the most useless thing I could do.

  But I was left to wait for Mallory and Alice. We lived all of ten minutes from the station by cab. Thankfully, before I could come up with a list of reasons for why she might be late, Alice burst into the room, looking completely wild—jacket falling off one shoulder like she could barely be troubled to put it fully on, hair a scattered mess, cheeks rosy, and eyes full of fire and brimstone. I probably should’ve checked my smile, but something about her ferocity just then made me like her more than I ever had before. Maybe I understood a little why my mother had kept her close for so many years. Alice grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go.”

  I stood to follow her out, but Mallory and his goons were blocking the doorway.

  “We need to question her,” the DI said, in a tone that made me think this wasn’t the first or even second time he’d said it.

  “As I already explained, you do not have my permission.”

  “We can hold her until you give it.”

  Alice let go of my hand and turned to fully face down the three men, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Do not let my accent fool you into thinking that I don’t know the law. Now I will take this child with me, and you will move out of my way.”

  “Let’s all just have a seat.” Mallory’s voice was practically dripping with his most pacifying tone. “You wouldn’t want the press to find out that you’re failing to cooperate fully with the police.”

  Alice crossed her arms. “Then charge her. Charge and process her right now, and I will call the press myself. I’ll let them know how you plan to persecute a child in a completely transparent and feeble attempt to take the blame off your police force for failing to notice one of your own was a serial killer.” When Mallory didn’t respond, Alice continued. “It won’t be that hard to get them to listen, there are a half dozen loitering about in front of our house right now. I’d only have to clear my throat to gather them, and my message would be broadcast live.”

  Mallory narrowed his eyes. “We received a tip that someone watched Mori wipe down the sword and throw it in the Regent’s Park lake. I am fully justified in conducting a police interview, so take a seat.”

  Alice leaned forward a little and lowered her voice. “Maybe I’ll add in how you personally knew that James Moriarty was hitting his young sons and did nothing to stop him. I’m sure Seanie’s cute little face will play well on the evening news, don’t you think?”

&nbs
p; Mallory and Alice stared each other down for a while, and just when I thought we were never getting out of there, Mallory stepped aside, pushing his officers out of the way as well. Alice grabbed my hand again and pulled me just to the doorway. She looked up at Mallory. “These kids have had to deal with enough of your bullshit. Don’t come after them for this trifling nonsense again.”

  And then she stormed down the hall, dragging me behind her. She asked me only two questions while we waited at the curb for our cab to arrive.

  “Did you do it?”

  I nodded.

  “Why?”

  “I thought I was protecting the woman with blue hair in my photo. I thought maybe without his sword, he’d at least refrain from killing her for a day.”

  Her silence felt like an intake of breath, like it was readying for a longer reply. But instead of releasing words, she wove her fingers through mine and held on tightly.

  Chapter 9

  Alice was quiet most of the way home, and I didn’t make a noise either. I thought maybe she was scared, that she’d used up all her bravado to face down Mallory. And I was to blame for being sloppy when I’d tossed the sword with so many people in the park. But around the halfway point, Alice reached for my hand again. When we rounded the next corner, she knocked on the Plexiglas barrier and said, “Let us off here, please.”

  She dragged me from the cab and took my arm as we walked down the street, blending in with all the other pedestrians. “I want spinach salad for dinner, the kind with bits of egg and tomato on it that goes all wilty under a hot bacon dressing.”

  “You want spinach salad,” I said.

  She smiled widely at me and winked. “Police stations make me crave bacon.”

  Alice was the worst shopper. The produce was clearly laid out to the right of the entrance, but she went left. I thought maybe she was the kind of shopper who had to wander the aisles and look at everything before picking out what she actually came to the store to purchase. But I didn’t feel like following her around, so I gathered what we’d need all on my own, only catching glimpses of Alice as she stood before the aisles, pausing to tilt her head, like she was trying to decide what she wanted from the shelves before walking along them. At the second-to-last aisle, she smiled, then looked over at me and winked before disappearing down the rabbit hole.

  The crash I heard soon after made me jump enough to drop the apple I was about to add to my basket. Alice’s overloud, “Oh no!” sent me hurrying to the aisle just in time to watch an older man offering his hand to a downtrodden Alice, who was sprawled on the tile, surrounded by a puddle of liquid, shards of glass, and an assortment of colored olives.

  Her defeated expression was such a contrast to the bright smile I’d seen only seconds before, I almost thought I’d had a weird apple-checking lapse in time, somehow.

  “I’m so, so sorry. I just can’t imagine how this happened,” Alice said.

  “Careful, now,” the man said. Alice rested her hand in his and rose up from the ruin, with as much grace as a princess drifting down from her carriage. Her eyes shone up into his as though he were her balding savior prince, rescuing her from a band of outlaws rather than a mess of her own creation. He reacted in kind, standing a little taller. He pushed his thumbs into the tiny pockets of his vest and rolled back his shoulders a bit at her attention. “Mind the glass, won’t you,” he said valiantly. “Are you injured anywhere?”

  “I’ve a better question.” It was perhaps only the sound of my voice that brought the two of them to their senses. “What are you even doing in this aisle? We are supposed to be shopping for spinach.”

  Alice pointed to a puddle that had been hidden behind her. “Oil for dressing,” she said pitifully. Her whole countenance drooped then, so that you’d think she was confessing to some grand crime. “What do I do now?”

  We definitely had at least four kinds of oil at home. I started to say, “Let’s just pay for this mess and go—”

  But before I could finish, Alice’s prince spoke up. “You just let me worry about all this.”

  I half expected Alice to give in and laugh that it had all been a prank, but her eyes shone with actual tears.

  “I can’t let you—,” she started, but he didn’t let her finish either.

  “Never mind this. I’ll take care of everything. You just run along home to those children you care for. Don’t give this another thought.”

  Her eyes still shone, but her expression changed to pure gratitude. She thanked the man perhaps one hundred times on our way out of the store, tears threatening the entire time—tears of thankfulness, I was left to presume.

  By the time we reached the corner, Alice’s smile was almost wicked. I tried very, very hard to say nothing, but when she winked at me, I lost all restraint.

  “On purpose? Really?”

  Alice draped an arm around my shoulders, and I pushed it off. “Don’t be like that. It’s just a little fun.”

  I stared at her for a few seconds, then turned and crossed the street against the light. She followed, almost getting hit by a horn-blaring MINI Cooper.

  I knew I was overreacting—that my level of frustration with her was more about my mood than her actions—but she was wasting time that I didn’t have. Time I could have spent trying to figure out who was sending me threatening letters in the mail.

  Alice caught up finally just as a strange female voice called out, “Jamie? Jamie Moriarty!”

  I started walking faster, but Alice slowed her pace.

  “Miss Jamie Moriarty?”

  The reporters who’d followed us around after my father had been arrested all assumed I didn’t go by James, but none, it seemed, had done enough homework to know what name I actually used in my day-to-day life, which made it extremely easy to ignore them.

  “Back off,” Alice said. She then lowered her voice to make a few vague threats, I was sure.

  I didn’t stay close enough to hear. I raced ahead and almost made it home before Alice’s arm looped around my shoulders. I didn’t throw her arm off this time. “Thanks,” I said. “For Mallory and the reporter.”

  “At the market,” she started, but I waved her off.

  “I’m just in a bad mood today.” I started to walk again, thinking she’d let it go, but she held my arm to stop me. It was apparently time for some kind of talk. I supposed we were overdue for one. We hadn’t had time to talk about how long she was willing to stay, or to come up with a plan about how to handle all that had happened in the past two days. I’d not even showed her around the house yet.

  But she surprised me by saying, “It’s lesson time.”

  “Lesson? What lesson?”

  She leaned in close. “I’ve been in London more than a week, you know.”

  I didn’t know. “Why didn’t you find us earlier?”

  She stuffed her hands into her pockets and took long, slow steps down the sidewalk. “I needed to make sure my paperwork was ironclad before I threw myself into the chaos. There’s only one man for that job, and he lives near Hyde Park.”

  “So you spent a week drumming up a false identity?”

  Alice looked at me like I’d insulted her. “If all I needed was a license or passport, I’d have done that myself. I needed the whole paper trail, going back to the day I was born—into the loving arms of Em’s parents, of course. I had to prove I was your full-fledged auntie, or I expected they’d have laughed me out of the offices.”

  She turned toward me, taking her next steps backward. And then she stopped walking and leaned back against a lamppost. “And that kind of work means Meeger papers.” I opened my mouth to speak, but she interrupted. “Not like you’re thinking. M-E-E-ger. No one knows his real name, but his forgeries are so flawless he got the nickname Meeger, after Han van Meegeren, a genius art forger back in the day.”

  “And these Meeger papers fooled Tri-borough Children’s Services?”

  Alice scowled. “All that money, and they didn’t even check it closely at all
. They flipped through to make sure all the forms were there, rubber-stamped it, and sent me on my way.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Two reasons. First, I know you went to see your father today, and I’m sure he threatened to challenge my legitimacy as your guardian.”

  Not technically, but I was sure it was only a matter of time. “And?”

  “And I want you to know that we are rock solid. As far as anyone can prove, I am your aunt Alice and legitimate legal guardian. I don’t want you worrying about how to protect me or how to fight that man. He’ll lose this battle for sure.”

  I felt my expression soften just a bit. “The second reason?”

  “Is your lesson.” She turned to face forward and then started walking again. “I’ve decided to teach you how to be one of us.”

  “One of you?”

  “That first week, I stayed at a little bed-and-breakfast around the corner from that market. The man I was flirting with there? He stalks me every time I’m there. I’ve been chatting him up a little, answering his questions as I wander the aisles, and today I decided to give him what he’s wanted from me all along.” She stopped and turned to meet my eyes. “He wanted me to be frail and in trouble, so he could play the hero.”

  I didn’t answer, so Alice grasped a lock of my hair and tugged it affectionately. My mother used to do that to me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about this woman co-opting the gesture, but I tried not to obsess over it.

  “I was only giving him what he wanted. Trust me.”

  I studied her face for a few seconds. “To what end?”

  “I’m not sure yet what the end will be. This is what we call ‘priming the mark.’ ”

  “So you’re just setting him up?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But now I have him, in case I need something later on.”

  There was something a little pathetic about that, using people so shamelessly. Pathetic, perhaps, but there was sincerity in it too. At least con artists didn’t pretend to themselves.