Mind Games

by Claude Bouchard

  “Speaking about sitting in his waiting room,” Chris said carefully, “I’m about to make you even happier.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” asked McCall, his eyes narrowing.

  “I visited Bowman yesterday.”

  “You what?” demanded the cop incredulously. “Chris, that’s stepping over some serious borders.”

  “I asked to see him as a patient,” Chris patiently explained. “Nothing illegal about that.”

  “Oh, come on, Chris,” cried Dave. “What the hell would you need therapy for?”

  “There are things you don’t know about me, Captain,” Chris replied with a grin. “I’m crazy and violent.”

  “Crazy, I’ll agree with,” responded McCall. “Chris, this can be dangerous. These people are killers.”

  “Listen, Dave,” said Chris, his tone growing serious. “Between my computer tracking and a few visits with the doctor, I may be your only chance to get a look at one of these patients, to find out who they are. I’ll feed you whatever I can get my hands on. You can’t prevent me from going.”

  McCall eyed his friend steadily for a long moment before replying. “You really might be nuts. If I can’t prevent you, then, you are going to be very careful, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Chris promised. “I just want to help you break this case. Now, let’s order something to eat. After that, I want to tell you about Randi. Apparently, he visited Bowman just before I did yesterday. Then, this morning, just before coming here, I found an entry which seems to relate to last night’s murder at the Chancellor Hotel. I think Randi may be your man this time.”

  “Jesus,” breathed McCall as he waved to a waiter. “You are crazy, Mr. Barry.”

  “Perhaps,” Chris smiled, “But with me on your side, you’ll get these bastards.”

  * * * *

  “Hang on a second,” said Nelson into the phone. “I think he’s just coming in.”

  She leaned over her desk to peer down the hall and saw McCall approaching.

  “Dave, Barb Jenkins on the phone for you.”

  “Thanks, Jo. I’ll take it.”

  He hurried into his office and hit the speaker button before removing his jacket.

  “Hey, Doctor Jenkins,” he called out. “Howya doing?”

  “Fine, Dave,” the speaker replied. “You?”

  “I’ve been worse. What’s up?”

  “I’ve reviewed Tim’s preliminary report on last night’s murder and I’ve had a chance to discuss it with Dr. Bowman. Want to hear what he had to say?”

  “Let me guess,” Dave answered, wincing at the sound of Bowman’s name. “Person who committed last night’s crime is the same person who had done the first one at the Chancellor three weeks ago.”

  “Very good, Captain,” commended the doctor. “And I detected no sarcasm in your tone whatsoever. Either you’re really starting to buy into this or you’ve learned how to hide your true thoughts really well.”

  “Oh, I’m buying into this all right,” Dave adamantly replied. “We are looking for four distinct killers.”

  “David, what do you know that I don’t?” Jenkins asked slowly.

  “You got a few minutes to chat, Barb? Off the record?” Dave enquired, pushing the door shut with his foot as he picked up the receiver. “I’d like to tell you about a friend of mine. Let’s call him Chris. He’s got me a little concerned...”

  Chapter 18 - Friday, June 13, 1997

  “Can I get you something to drink?” offered Samuel Bowman, “Coffee, tea?”

  “No, thanks, Doc,” replied Chris in his usual easy and informal style. “I’m fine.”

  “Very well, then,” said Bowman, dropping in the armchair across from Chris. “Let’s get started. Now, Chris, I’m a little concerned or rather, confused about why you want to see me. I realize that we only spent an hour together on Wednesday but, usually, even with new patients, I can detect some signs of trouble. Nervousness, shyness, difficulty to speak openly. I see nothing of that with you. You exude confidence. Nothing seems to be bothering you at all. The difficult childhood you spoke of the other day does not seem to have left any mark on you.”

  Chris gazed calmly at the psychiatrist and smiled as he replied. “That’s what I think the problem is, Doc. Nothing seems to bother me.”

  “My confusion continues, Chris. You’re disturbed by the fact that you’re a rational, well controlled person?”

  “Did you ever hurt someone, doctor?” Chris asked innocently, his crystal blue eyes looking deep into the doctor’s. “Really caused someone physical pain?”

  “The question, Chris, is, have you?” countered Bowman.

  “Sure have, Doc,” Chris replied evenly. “Lots of times. The problem is it doesn’t bother me. I feel no remorse. I know that it was wrong; I knew that it was wrong each time I did it. But I don’t feel guilty. Never have, never will.”

  “I see,” Bowman responded, thoughtfully scratching his chin. Maybe there was something with Barry after all, “Why did you commit these pain inflicting acts?”

  “That’s easy, Doc,” laughed Chris. “I was getting even.”

  “Getting even with whom, Chris?”

  “With the scum of the earth, Doc. On Wednesday, I told you about a violent childhood. The person responsible for that violence was garbage. Eventually, I simply started getting rid of garbage.”

  Both men sat quietly for a moment, a slight smile on their lips as they looked at each other.

  “So, what bothers you,” Bowman broke the silence, “Is the absence of remorse?”

  “That’s about the size of it, Doc.”

  “Do you have any idea why you feel no remorse, Chris?”

  “Because they all deserved what they got,” Chris replied easily.

  “If that’s the case,” questioned the doctor, “Why should you feel anything?”

  “Well, I was pretty nasty at times,” Chris replied. “I’m just concerned with how I can view these things without the slightest bit of emotion.”

  “When you speak of ‘no emotion’, Chris, is that true? Don’t you at least feel angry?”

  “Not now, not after,” Chris disagreed. “Sure, at the time. But once someone’s paid for his crimes, it’s over. I’m not angry anymore. I can’t even say I’m happy afterwards. Satisfied is probably the best way to describe it.”

  “And these acts you commit,” continued Bowman, “You feel they are right?”

  “Justified is probably a better term,” Chris corrected. “Legally, they are wrong but, morally, they are right.”

  “If that’s how you feel, Chris,” the psychiatrist suggested, “It’s normal that there is no remorse. That being the case, why are you here?”

  “Doc, if you knew some of the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t be asking that question. You’d be inclined to wonder how one could do such things and not be bothered by them.”

  “Why don’t you give me an example?”

  “I’m not sure that I’m comfortable enough to go that far for now,” Chris replied. “Some of it is pretty gruesome.”

  “I assure you that very little you could say would shock me, Chris,” said Bowman reassuringly. “I’ve heard some gruesome things from some of my patients.”

  “Can you give me an example?” asked Chris.

  “I-I’m not sure that I can,” responded Bowman, somewhat taken aback. “It would not be proper for me to discuss one patient with another.”

  “I’m not asking for names and dates, Doc,” Chris shrugged. “Just an example of the hideous kind of stuff you say you’ve heard.”

  “And you want to hear this because?”

  “Because knowing to what level others have opened up to you might encourage me to do the same,” answered Chris in a matter-of-fact fashion.

  “I see,” the psychiatrist replied thoughtfully. “I’m afraid I can’t describe any one situation in detail, Chris, even without names and dates as you say. However, I can tell you that I’ve dealt with
numerous people who have committed violent acts.”

  “Such as?” Chris persisted.

  “Murders, Chris. Murders,” Bowman responded, his tone slightly aggressive. “Shootings, strangulations, stabbings, electrocutions. I’ve heard it all, Chris.”

  “Electrocutions?” queried Chris, demonstrating keen interest.

  “Yes, electrocutions,” the doctor sighed impatiently. “The victim was in the bathtub and the killer threw a connected electrical appliance into the water.”

  “Wow,” Chris murmured. “That’s pretty scary.”

  “Yes, Chris,” Bowman went on with conviction. “Our world is a scary place. Beatings, mutilations, the strong preying on the weak, dominating them and taking advantage of them. It’s no wonder that this violence comes about. The weak eventually seek revenge.”

  He stopped abruptly and stared at Chris, looking a little flustered. Blushing slightly, he cleared his throat before speaking, his tone calm once again.

  “You can tell me what you’ve been through, Chris. I’ve seen it all and heard it all before. Nothing shocks me anymore. You see, in a way, I’m a bit like you. No matter how horrifying a situation, I can accept it without emotion.”

  “Well, I’ll think about it, Doc,” Chris replied, glancing at his watch and rising to his feet. “Our time’s about up and I’ve got another appointment. When can we meet again?”

  “Before we schedule another meeting, Chris, I want to be certain that you’re willing to let me help you. You’ve got to open up.”

  “No problem, Doc,” Chris responded reassuringly. “I will. You’ve helped me see things more clearly already.”

  “Very well then,” sighed Bowman as he headed for his computer. “Tuesday morning, nine o’clock.”

  “I’ll be here, Doc. Have a nice day.”

  * * * *

  As they had taken to doing a lot of late, McCall and his merry band were comfortably assembled in the former’s office, discussing what they had come to nickname the ‘Bowman’ case.

  “...so according to Tony,” the captain was saying, holding a copy of the M.E.’s report on the latest murder, “This one fits the mold too. Same wounds, same weapon, etcetera, etcetera.”

  “God, Dave,” Harris chirped with sarcastic humour. “That comes as quite a shock.”

  “Yeah. It threw me for a loop too,” Dave remarked amidst the others’ chuckles. “So, anybody have some brilliant ideas where to go from here?”

  “Maybe,” said Frank pensively. “I’m probably the last person you’d think who’d come up with this, seeing as I’m still on the single perp theory, but bear with me. Now, we’ve had seven murders so far, right? According to the Bowman theory, the two at the Chancellor were committed by the same person. The Caddy guy and the one from TJ’s were done by this Bobby who, by the way, apparently went back to TJ’s, presumably to try again. Next, we have Alex, whose two victims came out of the downtown night-life. Who knows, maybe he picked up the first girl at the Crescent Club before going to the Hotel de la Montagne.”

  “Great, Frankie,” interrupted a puzzled Harris. “You’ve demonstrated that you can remember Bowman’s theory on who did what but, what are you getting at?”

  “Please excuse my slow peer,” said Joanne to Frank. “He fails to see the pattern that you’re trying to point out.”

  “There you go,” Frank grinned. “Explain my theory to the slow one if you please.”

  “With pleasure, sir,” replied Joanne as she turned towards Tim. “So far, six of the murders are committed by three individuals, two apiece. Each of these individuals seems to have returned to the same or similar place to try again.”

  “So the fourth killer, who’s only killed once,” Tim stepped in, understanding, “Is likely to kill next, possibly at the Four Seasons.”

  “Exactly,” Frank replied, beaming. “What do you think?”

  “It’s as good as anything we’ve got,” Dave spoke up. “The question now becomes, when?”

  “Well, since this whole thing started,” continued Frank, “The killings have occurred at two to five day intervals. I’m guessing that the next one should be sometime over the weekend.”

  “So, what are you suggesting?” asked McCall. “That we stake out the Four Seasons for the next three days?”

  “It’s worth a shot,” replied Frank. “I don’t think we have to have twenty-four hour surveillance. Say six to midnight, maybe one. Most of the murders took place inside that time frame.”

  “All right, let’s do it,” decided Dave. “Frankie, call the hotel and see how we can set this up with their security people. Seeing as it’s your idea, you get first shift tonight. I’ll back you up. Tim and Joanne can cover tomorrow night if required.”

  The two detectives nodded as McCall went on. “Get copies of the three sketches we have so far. If anybody at the Four Seasons remotely recognizes someone, we’ll be there to grab him.”

  “OK,” exclaimed Frank as he hurried out the office. “Let’s catch ourselves a slime ball.”

  “Don’t forget, Frank,” Joanne called after him. “Even if we do get someone, he may be only one of four.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it,” Bakes responded in a determined tone. “In the end, you’ll see. We’re looking for one person. I don’t give a damn what the good doctor says.”

  * * * *

  Dr. Bowman sat before his computer, gathering, analyzing and ordering his thoughts. Not one to waste time, he disliked having to rework anything, preferring to think something through before actually doing it. This applied to most everything he undertook, including the writing of notes he kept following consultations with patients.

  Having established the framework of what he wished to record, he put his fingers to the keyboard and started writing up his impressions following his most recent consultation:

  9:00 am, Friday, June 14: My impressions of Chris have changed since our initial encounter on Wednesday (June 12). Contrary to what I believed, Chris is a man of extreme anger and, consequently, violence. His facade is extraordinary, allowing him to demonstrate seeming control. This stems from his high level of intelligence as Chris is, without a doubt, a brilliant man. However, underneath boils the rage born from a traumatic childhood and Chris has apparently transformed this rage into acts of vengeance and violence in the past. Although seemingly confident, he is uncomfortable with discussing such acts in any detail at the present time. He most likely greatly distrusts other people and therefore is unable to open up for fear that, in so doing, he may compromise himself. He states that his problem is his lack of remorse in relation to violent acts he has committed but this is probably another dimension of his facade. With the little knowledge I currently have of this individual, I believe that his true problem is quite the contrary; high levels of guilt have brought him to seek help. At this very premature stage, it is my opinion that with proper therapy, Chris is a likely candidate for full recovery. However, only time and additional sessions will tell.

  Bowman gazed absently at his entry for a moment as he thought of Chris Barry. The man was profound, complex, and would definitely prove to be an extremely interesting subject. Although Barry had refused to give details of his violent acts, the psychiatrist had a feeling that they might have been quite atrocious.

  As he thought of his latest patient, CSS flashed through Bowman’s mind once again. He wondered why the name of Barry’s ex-employer so often entered his thoughts. Since he was not one to spend enormous amounts of time reading about business, he knew that the company name rang a bell for other reasons. He had to find out why. Turning back to the computer, he typed the appropriate keys to link on to Eazy-Com and began his research, vowing to find out why CSS was so familiar to him.

  * * * *

  Dave sat in his office, making a half-hearted attempt at reducing the rapidly growing piles of paper which were consuming his desk. Concentration on this mundane task was difficult as his mind constantly drifted back to the confusing, frustrating,
yet, intriguing Bowman case.

  He knew that Frank’s idea of casing the Four Seasons was, at the very best, a shot in the dark. However, it was the best they had for now and it had become a plan. He’d seen other cases solved in the past on bigger flukes than this. Maybe they’d be lucky.

  He managed to read and sign off two more progress reports in the space of five minutes before finding himself staring blankly at another. This time, the subject which had clouded his mind was Chris. He did not like the idea of his rich, retired friend playing cop as a hobby. Although, as usual, Chris’ logic had made a lot of sense, Dave had tried to convince him to stay away from Bowman’s office. More stubborn than Dave, however, Chris had flatly refused, stating with a grin that he had psychological problems and needed help. He wanted the best and, apparently, Bowman qualified.

  Dave’s conversation on the subject with Barbara Jenkins hadn’t helped any. In the end, she had suggested that, considering Dave’s high respect for Chris and his intelligence, what harm could it do if the man visited Bowman.

  As McCall contemplated this final thought, he noticed Bakes hurrying towards him. Frank tended to become speedy whenever he was excited.

  “Bother you for a minute, boss?” asked the detective as he hastened into the office and hopped his rear onto the conference table.

  “Sure, why not,” chuckled Dave, secretly welcoming the interruption.

  “I just finished meeting with Ozzie Jones,” Frank proudly announced. “He’s that big black dude in charge of security that we had met at the Four Seasons. They’re in and willing to do whatever it takes to help catch this wacko. He’s gonna call in some extra people from other shifts so he’ll have twelve guards plus himself available to us.”

  “Great,” replied Dave. “So, what’s the plan?”