Past Imperfect

by John Matthews

  Sweet icing smiles, blue piping: Ten? Oh God, the same age Christian Rosselot had been when he'd died.

  The candles glimmered. Joel's smiling face was above them, eyes wide as he pouted...

  But all Duclos could see was the single candle burning in the hospital with Monique Rosselot's face in profile, Christian Rosselot's eyes pleading up at him, don't kill me... don't kill me!

  And as his son blew out the candles, the rock came down... he saw himself smashing the life from Christian Rosselot, extinguishing the light. Feeling the small skull crush as the rock connected... spurts of blood warm on his chest. And then he was in the car with Betina, turning the wheel sharply... her piercing scream just before they hit the truck...

  Duclos bit at his lip sharply and rushed from the room. He headed for the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

  After a moment, Betina came in. She sat beside him on the bed, one arm across his shoulder in comfort.

  Duclos looked down at the floor, found it hard to meet her eyes. 'If things go badly, it just hit me: this could be the last of Joel's birthdays I'll be here for, for a while,' he lied. Tears would have been fitting, but none came: dry well of emotions.

  'I know. I know.' Betina soothed.

  But he wondered at heart what she did know or suspect. Perhaps they were both lying.

  Corbeix phoned Dominic's office within minutes of the ruling coming through from Barielle's office. 'We've got it. But by the skin of our teeth. Barielle has made a strong reprimand which will be entered into notes for full trial - may still be used by Thibault to rap us over the head then. But for the moment, we're still alive. Just. Though I'm sure if anything else comes up that even remotely smacks of the same, Barielle will throw the case out.'

  'Well, hopeful news at least. Thanks.' Putting down the phone, Dominic wondered: Marinella Calvan? Thibault would no doubt give her a battering over PLR, but at least there should be no claims of bias. Calvan probably had little or no knowledge of French politics, nor cared.

  Duclos picked up the phone after the first ring. He'd put down the phone from Thibault only minutes before: news of Barielle's ruling, strategy for Marinella Calvan at the next hearing. He thought Thibault might have forgotten something, was phoning back. But it was Georges Marchand from Switzerland.

  After the preliminaries of ‘can we talk freely’ and ‘how are you coping’ - Marchand got to the purpose of his call.

  'I had a call a few days back from my people. They're not happy about all the talk in the papers bringing up the bio-technology ruling. They're extremely uncomfortable about the linking of your case to that - and with obvious reason.'

  'It's just a ruse by my lawyer. They shouldn't worry.'

  'What's his aim?'

  'The bio-technology ruling provides good background for his claim of political bias against me. Strong incentive for political enemies to start coming out of the woodwork. We almost got the case thrown out at the last hearing - but almost certainly it will be by the next. Then the whole thing will blow over quickly. Some new scandal will hit the headlines.'

  Brief silence from the other end. 'A few days ago they were merely worried. But when news from today's Le Figaro reaches them, they're going to panic. Remember Lenatisse?'

  'Yes.' Lenatisse was a French Socialist MP strongly outspoken about the bio-tech ruling, making caustic remarks about Duclos' handling favouring the Greens.

  '... One journalist seems to be linking your lawyer's comments with those of Lenatisse. Have you seen it yet?'

  'No, no. I haven't.' He didn't get the papers early, hardly ventured out with the gendarme and the press at the door. He waited till later in the day for Betina to bring the papers in with the shopping.

  'I'll read it for you: "... Bold claims indeed from Counsellor Thibault of a political witchhunt against his client stemming from the bio-technology dispute. But this raises other more intriguing issues: in particular Minister Lenatisse's earlier comment, however flippantly made, that Alain Duclos might be in the pocket of the Greens. Because certainly, if Alain Duclos is finally found guilty of murder - then it doesn't take too extreme a stretch of the imagination to believe that he might also be a corrupt politician. Perhaps Minister Lenatisse's comments might have some substance after all."

  'I see.' Duclos went cold. Yet another dimension to his problems. 'I can see why they're worried. At least it still only points to the Greens - your people would be the last to come under suspicion.' Then realized it had sounded offhand. 'But point taken. I'll mention to Thibault to layoff. No more mention of the bio-technology dispute. And, as I say - the whole thing should be quashed soon anyway.'

  'Let's hope so.' Marchand wouldn't be surprised if the journalist too was playing an angle for some industry lobby group. At present, if Duclos was convicted of murder, the bio-technology ruling still stood. Only if a connection was successfully made to possible corruption could the debate be re-tabled. 'There was another reason for me making contact at this stage.' Marchand sighed. From his client's last call it was obviously a prime concern, but the words just didn't sit right; felt out of place with the relationship he'd so far established with Duclos. 'I know that your lawyer is confident of clearing you. But if anything should go wrong - if you should feel the need for additional help. Just call. It's just so that you know that if the worst comes to the worst, you have friends out there. People who will help you.'

  'Yes, yes. Certainly. I'll remember that.'

  Marchand rang off. Duclos had sounded suitably non-plussed by the gesture; probably its significance wouldn't hit him for a while. Or perhaps he was so confident his lawyer would clear him, he hadn't even considered other possibilities.

  Not an entirely altruistic gesture by his client, Marchand realized. The last thing they wanted was a convicted Duclos, eager to make deals and turn state's evidence, sink some industry big fish by telling all about his years as a corrupt politician.

  FORTY-ONE

  Stilted three way conversation: questions from Barielle through the translator to Marinella Calvan. And in turn back again with Calvan's answers.

  It reminded Marinella of the sessions with Philippe and Eyran.

  'What is your preferred method for conducting sessions?' asked Barielle.

  'Hypnosis.'

  'I understand that your predecessor, Dr Donaldson, preferred conducting sessions while people were awake. What was the reason for this?'

  'He felt that sometimes hypnosis could be suggestive. Could spark off unwarranted imaginations if used the wrong way.'

  'I see. So hypnosis could be used to suggest imaginative scenarios that weren't real?'

  'Yes. But as I say - only if misused.'

  Corbeix looked up. The first hesitation from Calvan. The first half hour had already covered much of her background at the University of Virginia and her working relationship with Donaldson. Corbeix had spent almost an hour going over points in file notes in private chambers with Barielle the day before. He imagined that Thibault had spent a similar time. As the most unusual element in the case, it was important that Barielle gained a full grasp of the subject. But equally its unorthodox nature would target it as the main area for Thibault to try and discredit. Corbeix tried to pick up on his own questions and those influenced by Thibault. Sometimes the dividing line was vague, or they might be additional questions posed by Barielle. Except now: throwing doubt on hypnosis. Thibault's hand was on the rudder.

  '... In working with children, as Donaldson did almost exclusively, I felt that many would have vivid imaginations in any case. Particularly because he so often worked with children in India and Asia, where reincarnation is an accepted part of their culture.'

  'And you generally have avoided working with children from those regions?'

  'Yes. My main work has been with children in America and Europe.'

  'Any particular reason for this?'

  Marinella thought for a moment. 'Challenge, I suppose. It was more of a challenge to delve into past
lives with children from a culture where reincarnation wasn't normally accepted, rather than one where it was. And, of course, this makes hypnosis all the more essential - to drag out buried or heavily repressed memories.'

  Fresh breath from Barielle. 'Can you tell me: what are the percentages of people that believe in past life regressions in Europe and America?'

  'In America the figures are going up all the time. As much as thirty, thirty-five percent, I now believe. But in Europe I understand that it's slightly less - twenty, twenty-five percent. But among the rest, there's a lot of 'not sures' and 'don't knows’.’

  'I see. But in general, in America and Europe, is it fair to say that most people do not fully accept or believe?'

  Marinella cast her eyes down slightly; reluctant admission. 'Yes, it is.'

  'In your own work, has this been significant? Something you have seen as an obstacle: that, if possible, you would like to change. Get more people to believe?'

  Marinella shrugged and smiled. 'Yes, of course. It's something that everyone working with PLR and related fields is continually fighting for - wider acceptance. That's why we spend so much time building up strong case histories.' One eyebrow arched, as if to say: stupid question. Days and sometimes weeks spent compiling tapes and transcripts. Ninety pages alone from Eyran Capel's sessions, with her and Donaldson up until 2am solidly for over a week to knock it into shape for a publishable paper for the University. 'It's a constant battle against scepticism - much of it from within our own profession. From the more staid and conventional areas of psychiatry and psychology.'

  'So, it would be true to say that your desire to convince a wider audience about the relevance of PLR has been a strong driving force behind your career to date?'

  'Yes.' The first warning signs; Marinella felt the need to quickly redress the balance. 'It was the main reason I specialized so strongly in xenoglossy: use of a foreign language unknown to the main subject. Probably the strongest possible support for real regressions - particularly with young children who've had little or no opportunity to learn the language in question. This was the main reason why Dr Lambourne contacted me in the first place with the Eyran Capel case. My work with xenoglossy.'

  'Eyran Capel has been a particularly large and important case for you?'

  'Yes.' Unequivocal: she'd had nothing else even nearing it.

  Barielle flicked through some notes. 'But I understand that you had some relative success with a xenoglossy case a few years back. A young boy in Cincinnati. Can you tell me what happened there?'

  Marinella looked sharply at Corbeix. She hadn't told him in her briefing that morning nor, she was sure, had she mentioned anything to Fornier. Then her gaze shifted to Thibault's tell-tale half smile. He quickly averted his eyes to something indicated in a folder by his assistant. Jesus, they had been digging. 'I had a paper half published, announcements prepared for a forthcoming full paper - when the boy's father pulled him from the sessions.'

  'What were the reasons he gave?'

  'That he didn't feel his son would benefit from continuing regressionary sessions. Was worried even that they might harm him.'

  'As a result, I daresay that this was something that you would not like to have happen again: a subject being pulled away from sessions prematurely.'

  'No, I suppose not.' Faint annoyance at the obviousness. 'I don't think anyone would.'

  Barielle's blue eyes glared across purposefully. 'So tell me: what was the reaction of Dr Lambourne or Eyran Capel's uncle and guardian, Stuart, when you told them that the final sessions would be used to track down clues on Christian Rosselot's murder?'

  Marinella's mouth suddenly went dry. She felt as if a trap door had suddenly opened. She flustered: 'Well - we just didn't know straightaway that was what we were looking for. That didn't come out till later.'

  'But I understand that Chief Inspector Fornier was present at some of those final sessions?'

  'Yes, but only the last one.' Suddenly the fire exit was there and she bolted for it. 'That was when he first saw the possibility of vital details coming out about the murder and decided to attend.'

  'And for the other sessions?'

  'I sent him transcripts and tapes.'

  'So he nurtured and maintained an interest in the case throughout - but didn't reveal the purpose of that interest until the last moment?'

  'Yes.' Marinella shrugged. 'I don't think he was even sure himself until the last moment.'

  'I see.' Barielle was brooding, thoughtful. He didn't look satisfied. He flicked through some notes, then looked across at Corbeix. 'What do you have in your file for the date the notary Fenouillet was first contacted about travelling to London?' You might be able to find it easier than me.'

  Corbeix was slightly flustered at the proceedings swinging suddenly to him. He leafed quickly through his own notes. 'Here it is. April third.'

  Barielle asked the session dates in London and Corbeix flicked through more pages. Finally: 'March thirtieth, April fourth, April sixth and April the eleventh.'

  'So... just before the second session. It would appear therefore that Fornier was certainly aware of the possibility after even the first of those final sessions.' Barielle turned again to Marinella Calvan. 'And Chief Inspector Fornier mentioned nothing to you at that stage about using the information to possibly further his investigation?'

  Marinella changed tack, realizing that if she stuck to her guns it would reflect badly on Fornier. 'Well, nothing directly. But he certainly intimated it.'

  'Intimated? Could you possibly elaborate on exactly what was and wasn't said...'

  Corbeix cringed as Barielle and Calvan argued over semantics of language: was she aware that those final sessions were aiding an investigation or not? After a few moments, the most he was able to get from her was that she was made 'vaguely aware.' But certainly she didn't know for sure until the sessions were drawing to a close.

  'And this 'vague awareness'. Was this at any time passed on to Dr Lambourne or Stuart Capel?'

  'I might have hinted at something,' Marinella fumbled. 'I don't remember exactly. We had quite a few conversations, some elements of the case were extremely complicated, as you appreciate.'

  Barielle stared impatiently at Calvan. 'It's a straightforward question, Ms Calvan. Did Lambourne or Stuart Capel know that these final sessions might aid a murder investigation?'

  'Not directly.' Marinella bit back. 'How could they if at that stage I didn't even know for sure myself. As I mentioned, even Chief Inspector Fornier I don't think was totally sure until the final session.'

  Barielle sighed. Calvan's ambiguity was wearing him down. The three way nature of the questioning made it all the more tedious. 'Well, thankfully we'll soon be able to ask Dr Lambourne and Stuart Capel directly if they knew. But to dispense with you for the time being, Ms Calvan: your final word is that you did not know for sure the sessions were being used to aid a murder investigation until the final session?'

  'No, that's correct.'

  'And for a moment presuming that you had known and had informed Dr Lambourne and Stuart Capel - what do you think would have been their reaction?'

  'I'm not sure. I don't know.' But she was trembling inside: she did know, she was sure.

  'Then let me suggest something: given your past experience with the Cincinnati boy, isn't it likely that your first assumption would have been that they would have pulled Eyran from the sessions prematurely - they wouldn't have agreed to continue?'

  'I don't know,' Marinella flustered. 'That's purely speculative. The thought never even really...'

  Barielle steamrollered over her protests, didn't even wait for the translation. '... Or certainly, even if that wouldn't have happened, that's what you would have feared. Which is why you ensured that nothing was mentioned to either Dr Lambourne or Stuart Capel. You were afraid of losing one of the largest cases of your career.'

  Corbeix cradled his head in one hand as Barielle continued, now emphasizing just how big a case th
is was for her: speeches, book contracts, chat shows, a spot on Larry King just the other week which Barielle had viewed on videotape. Thibault's people had been busy. Very busy. Thibault had fed Barielle a particularly juicy rabbit this time, and Barielle obviously wasn't going to be satisfied until he'd stripped the last inch of flesh.

  '... It has been suggested by defence counsel that the enormity of this case and your pursuit of the possible fame and fortune derived from it, has severely tainted your judgement. That if Dr Lambourne and Stuart Capel had been informed of the purpose of those final sessions, they would have never agreed to them. And by not providing such information, in effect, the final sessions with Eyran Capel were gained under false pretences. And resultantly, none of the evidence gained therein should be accepted.'

  Corbeix noticed Barielle glancing at his folder. Perhaps referring to the exact text provided by Thibault. No doubt another mistrial demand.

  '... And on the evidence so far before me, I'm inclined to agree. But before I conclude my decision, as I say, I will hear first from Dr Lambourne and Stuart Capel.' Barielle flicked forward a page in his folder. 'Finally, Ms Calvan - when was it that the possible potential of this case struck you? When did you start arranging lecture tours and chat shows?'

  An easy question at last, thought Calvan. 'Well obviously, not until after the last session.'

  'So, mid April sometime?'

  'Yes, about then.'

  'Then I would like you to listen to this.' Barielle produced a tape recorder from beneath his desk top. 'I will ask your comments afterwards.' A small cassette recorder, Barielle ceremoniously pressed play. The sound was faint and tinny, and Barielle turned up the sound to ensure it carried across the room.

  '... it's a story we're preparing for next week's edition.'

  'What paper did you say?'

  'Miami Herald.'

  Marinella recognized the voice straightaway: her agent, Stephanie Bruckmann. Stephanie had mentioned the Miami Herald calling.