Disordered Minds

by Minette Walters

  "You think he's lying?"

  "No," said Jonathan regretfully.

  George was promptly downcast again. "That's what I thought when he said it."

  "So?"

  "There's no point looking for Cill's parents."

  "Wrong," said Jonathan affectionately. "It makes it even more important. How would you feel if someone was masquerading as your daughter? You'd want to know why, wouldn't you?"

  George glanced at him in surprise. "Is that what she's doing?"

  "It's as plausible as my transference theory. One's conscious, the other's unconscious ... I guess it depends whether you think the lights are on and no one's at home or if there's method in her madness."

  George was doubtful. "What's the point?"

  "Of a masquerade? Perhaps she's doing an Anna Anderson-reemerging as the Grand Duchess Anastasia in order to lay claim to the Romanov fortune. Cill was an only child, don't forget, so there might be some money to be made out of it."

  "Priscilla lives on Sandbanks," protested George. "Her husband must be rolling in it."

  Jonathan shrugged. "Perhaps Fletcher doesn't own the house ... perhaps he insisted on a prenuptial agreement."

  "Yes, but ... it's absurd," she said forcefully. "Even if the Trevelyans managed to buy a house in the West Country, it'll be worth a pittance. They were living in council accommodation when they were in Lacey Street, so the best they could have done was make an exchange, then buy whatever property they ended up in ... and council property's never that valuable."

  "It'll still be worth something."

  "Then why isn't she calling herself Cill Trevelyan? Why hasn't she made herself known to the parents? It's the most far-fetched theory I've ever heard," she finished indignantly.

  "OK, OK," said Jonathan with a small laugh. "It was just an idea. The only other theory I've come up with is coincidence-that a woman called Priscilla looks just like a Priscilla who went missing and happened to marry her rapist, Roy Trent-but that seems equally far-fetched. And you know how much I hate coincidences."

  George concentrated on her driving for several minutes. "Anna Anderson led a comfortable life," she said, breaking her silence. "I saw a documentary on her a while back and there were a number of people who believed she was Anastasia. She lived on their charity for years, then ended up marrying a rich American who treated her like royalty."

  "She was a fraud," said Jonathan. "They used DNA samples to prove she was a Polish factory worker."

  "That wouldn't worry her ... not once she was dead. It's living like a princess while you're alive that's important." There was a gleam in her eye. "Put it this way, if she was Anastasia, then she was robbed of her inheritance, but if she was a Polish factory worker, then she did extremely well out of the deception. But it wasn't the Romanov family who kept her in clover-they refused to recognize her-it was the people she conned..."

  From: Dr. Jonathan Hughes [jon.hughes@london.ac.uk]

  Sent: Thurs. 5/1/03 11:16

  To: geo.gar@mullinst.co.uk

  Cc: Andrew Spicer

  Subject: Roy Trent

  Dear George,

  Herewith some thoughts re: the tape. As agreed, I have conferred with a psychologist colleague and we have divided Trent's statements into four categories.

  Category 1 (statements that we both believe to be true)

  1. The gang bullied Howard with a knife.

  2. Howard subsequently acquired a knife and went berserk.

  3. The gang experienced similar suicidal thoughts to Howard's.

  4. Their stamping ground was Colliton Way.

  5. They got into trouble when they left it.

  6. Trent detested prison and did not want a repeat.

  7. He regrets his behavior.

  8. Priscilla Fletcher is not Cill Trevelyan.

  Category 2 (statements that we are undecided about)

  1. Trent and his gang did not know Grace.

  2. David Trevelyan killed his daughter.

  3. Jean Trevelyan told lies to protect him.

  Category 3 (statements that may not be true but that Trent himself believes)

  1. Howard killed Grace Jefferies.

  2. He did so as a direct result of being bullied by Trent, Hurst and Hopkinson.

  3. Wynne Stamp could have helped her son's defense by citing the gang.

  Category 4 (statements that we both believe to be false)

  1. Trent did not know Cill Trevelyan-he did.

  2. Louise Burton did not know the names of the rapists-she did.

  3. She did not identify them because they weren't involved-they were.

  4. Trent has not seen Hurst or Hopkinson since they were youngsters-he has.

  5. His ex-wife knows nothing about Cill's disappearance or Grace's murder-she does.

  I should stress that our conclusions may be wrong-deciphering content and tone of voice is not an exact science by any stretch of the imagination (!)-nevertheless, Trent's responses were interesting. My colleague was impressed by the way he dealt with questions about himself, his gang and Howard Stamp, less impressed by his answers about Cill Trevelyan. As you will see from Category 4 above, most of the "lies" are associated with Cill and the rape.

  Despite this, my colleague made the point that Trent was prepared for questions about Cill, viz. his calm response after you and I accused him of it. "It's true that I was taken in for questioning..." etc. This suggests he knew we'd found out about it. Yet only two people were aware of that-William Burton and Miss Brett. It is highly unlikely that Miss Brett reported the fact to Roy Trent or anyone who knew him, but quite probable that William Burton passed it on, either directly to Trent or to Priscilla Fletcher.

  Had our accusation come out of the blue, my colleague believes Trent would have postured and protested rather more strongly while he tried to collect his thoughts. In addition, he employed some fairly aggressive diversionary tactics at the beginning in order to prevent us asking anything at all. Since he seemed fairly comfortable talking about Howard, it was questions about Cill Trevelyan and/or Priscilla Fletcher that he wanted to avoid.

  Of particular notice is that he shifts the conversation very quickly to Howard-where he feels on stronger ground-and only becomes comfortable talking about Cill when he knows Priscilla Fletcher has left the building. In light of what's on the tape and also Trent's attempts to keep you away from the Cill Trevelyan story, it seems reasonable to make the following assumptions:

  1. William Burton repeated details of your conversation with him.

  2. Priscilla Fletcher knew Cill Trevelyan well enough to copy her look.

  3. Trent does not want us to talk to Priscilla.

  I am left with the conviction that Trent was not involved in any way with Grace's murder-and genuinely believes that Howard was guilty. However, I have an equal conviction that he (a) raped Cill; and (b) knows what happened to her. If those conclusions are right, then Priscilla Fletcher was party to the crime(s), and my best guess at the moment-whatever Miss Brett may have said to the contrary-is that Priscilla Fletcher is Louise Burton, that William Burton knows it and that he almost certainly alerted his sister to your interest in the story.

  Where that leaves us on Howard, I don't know. I won't abandon his "miscarriage of justice" lightly, but I am concerned about the "slashing and stabbing" incident described by Trent. When I wrote Howard's chapter in Disordered Minds, there was nothing to suggest a history of "manic" behavior against others. But if the episode happened-and we find proof of it through hospital records/Hurst/Hopkinson and/or their families/neighbors-then we will have to rethink. It indicates that Howard had a breaking point, was ready to ignore injury to himself and had a knife. You can't blame him-he had a miserable existence-but it makes our job harder.

  For the moment I suggest we concentrate on bearding William Burton in his den and attempt through him to gain access to Priscilla Fletcher. I'm afraid it may turn out that the two stories are unconnected, as the police decided at the time, but we
need to establish this for our own satisfaction.

  Best wishes, Jon

  P.S. Am sending a copy of the tape by snail mail.

  From: George Gardener [geo.gar@mullinst.co.uk]

  Sent: Sun. 5/4/03 14:29

  To: jon.hughes@london.ac.uk

  Cc: Andrew Spicer

  Subject: Conclusions

  Oh dear! Snail mail delivered, and I do rather agree with you. It's so disappointing. I set such high hopes on Louise Burton or Colley Hurst and it's wretched to have them dashed. If you remember, I was depressed on the way to the station because, even while Roy was speaking, I thought what he said about Howard and his gang sounded like the truth. I was especially struck by Roy's references to "suicidal tendencies" and "shit lives," both of which are well documented in literature about alienated youth.

  I shall email some possible dates tomorrow, but at the moment I'm questioning the sense of wasting anymore time on Cill or Louise. I fear it's what you said at the beginning-coincidences are seductive-and if the police didn't make a link in 1970, then it's doubtful there was one.

  Best, George

  P.S. What happened with Emma's father?

  From: Andrew Spicer [Andrew@spicerandhardy.co.uk]

  Sent: Mon. 5/5/03 10:46

  To: jon.hughes@london.ac.uk; geo.gar@mullinst.co.uk

  Subject: Earning advances

  Dear both,

  I am in the middle of negotiating a delicate-but healthy-deal which is based on a presumption of Howard Stamp's innocence. While I have listened to a copy of the tape and also been mildly entertained by your hand-wringing emails on the subject of whether or not Roy Trent was telling the truth about his revoltingly unpleasant behavior as an adolescent, may I remind you that the object of the exercise is to make him tell you everything he remembers about the Stamp family.

  Personally, I couldn't give a monkey's toss how suicidal he felt in his teens. If it's of any interest to you, I experienced identical feelings at fourteen when I contemplated my preordained fate of gaining huge amounts of weight like my mother, failing to score with attractive women like my father, then taking on the family firm in order to deal with authors who keep changing their minds.

  Despite these miserably unappealing prospects, I did not go out and rape a 13-yr-old because I enjoyed watching people hurt; nor did I provoke a sad young man with a harelip and learning difficulties into producing a knife because my psychopathic friend had sliced his back whenever he felt like it. Should I now be worrying about you, Jon, because you stood up to Trent and called him a sociopath? Was that a "manic" incident? And what about your "berserk" episode on Bournemouth Station? Does this mean none of us is safe anymore?

  You know Howard had a knife because he was a self-mutilator, and there was no point going against Trent and his gang without it. Give the poor chap credit for finding some courage at last, instead of assuming that one desperate attempt at gaining self-esteem led to an automatic downward spiral of murderous behavior. In your shoes, I'd be looking for evidence that his confidence improved in the wake of the incident. Find Wynne. Talk to her. Ask her why Howard agreed to go job-hunting on the Monday and Tuesday before Grace was found. Whose idea was that? Hers or his?

  Meanwhile, go back to George's neighbor's testimony which states that Howard could not have committed the murder on the Wednesday because he did not arrive at Grace's house until 2:00 p.m. Then reread Jon's chapter on Howard where the defense pathologist argued that the murder happened on the Monday while the above job search was happening. If the knife-wielding episode worries you so much, then concentrate on opportunity. How and when could Howard have done it?

  I hate to be a Victorian parent, but get real, for God's sake! Anthropologists who invite pretentious colleagues to listen to a tape over a cup of tea and councillors with politically correct leanings are persuadable enough to make me weep. Of course Roy Trent was convincing. He's had years of practice ... he even persuaded one of his victims to marry him, if Jon's theory about P. Fletcher being Louise Burton is correct. Plus he's managed to keep George at arm's length from this story ever since he met her, by allowing her free access to his pub for "surgeries" in order to woo voters.

  Next time you see him ask him how the Crown and Feathers survives without customers. Who owns it? Where's the money coming from? These are the interesting questions, and if either of you had ever run a business, you'd know it. You were a tax inspector, George, Trent's finances should be grist to your mill. The man's a crook, so of course he doesn't want to go back to prison. Name me one who does!

  Best, Andrew Spicer

  P.S. OK, pal, give us the dirt. What did happen with Emma's father?

  From: Dr. Jonathan Hughes [jon.hughes@london.ac.uk]

  Sent: Thurs. 5/8/03 14:33

  To: geo.gar@mullinst.co.uk; Andrew@spicerandhardy.co.uk

  Subject: Emma's father

  The bastard called me an asylum seeker, punched me in the gut and manhandled me out the door. And yes-pal-much as I hate to admit it, you're right! One swallow doesn't make a summer, so unless Howard had better luck than I did the next time he stood up to someone, he probably went back to carving his initials on his arm. However, the odds are high that the "next time" was Grace, and the poor little sod lost it when she didn't run away. My pretentious colleague says there's no going back after the first cut, unless you're clearheaded enough to realize what you're doing ... and that's well-nigh impossible when there's a red mist in front of your eyes. 99% of murders are committed in anger, and the reason the cases are tried as murder, not manslaughter, is because the culprits try to cover their tracks afterward. Be warned! If Jenny or Greg test your patience too far, and you bop one or other of them on the head with a crowbar, phone the police immediately and plead provocation. You may get five years if the judge recognizes what a saint you've been toward a couple of shysters ... but you won't get life.

  Nevertheless, I have taken on board your Victorian strictures. You always were a bully, Andrew. I think it comes from being small and fat ... although galloping baldness clearly isn't helping. The real mystery is why you have so much self-esteem. Considering what you look like, and the fact that beautiful women ignore you, it ought to be zero. J.

  P.S. To avoid further emails on the subject of my love life, Emma wasn't there and I haven't heard from her. According to her mother, who followed me out, she is getting married on August 9 to a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant with a double-barreled name. I have written to congratulate her.

  *19*

  9 GALWAY ROAD, BOSCOMBE, BOURNEMOUTH

  SATURDAY, MAY 10, 2003, 9:00 P.M.

  Rachel Burton moved the cursor to "send," then hovered her finger over the mouse. "Are you sure about this, sweetheart?" she asked her husband, looking up from the monitor. "Once it's gone there's no bringing it back."

  Billy rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward to stare at the message on the screen. "It's not my choice. It's what you think that matters." He sighed despondently. "I just wish to God that stupid Gardener woman had done something, instead of making us do the dirty work."

  "OK, then we send it." Rachel pressed the mouse button and watched the email vanish. "I'd rather have a husband with a clear conscience than a galloping insomniac, and if you change your mind, you don't have to give them her address." She reached up to squeeze his hand. "Look, it may not be as bad as you think. Louise could be squeaky clean ... your mother's conscience might only be troubled by a few white lies. Blame your parents for refusing to talk to you ... blame me and the twins for forcing you into it."

  He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. It hadn't taken much forcing once he came clean about what was worrying him, because her attitude was the same as his. Neither of them was confident that George Gardener would let the issue of Priscilla Fletcher drop, and if there were skeletons in the Burton closet, then it was better to open the door themselves than wait for a stranger to do it. They wouldn't have a leg to stand on if the press arrived on their doorstep deman
ding to know why Billy had failed to recognize his sister, was Rachel's argument, so the best solution was to make Louise tell her story herself.

  "And how do we do that?" Billy had asked gloomily. "She's never 'fessed up to a damn thing in her life."

  "Tell the detective agency where she is," suggested Rachel. "You've got their card. Persuade them to ask the questions. That way, the police won't be involved ... or not immediately."

  "She'll lie."

  "At least they might find out why she's pretending to be Cill."

  "How's it going to help us if they don't report back?" Billy said. "We'll be just as much in the dark as we are now."

  Rachel had a more positive character than her husband. "Then we need to find a way of making them." She stroked his face. "You can't go on like this, love. Right's right and wrong's wrong, and you'll have a breakdown if you don't do something pretty damn quick. You were ten years old. Whatever happened wasn't your fault."

  "Perhaps it wasn't Louise's either. Perhaps that's why she went the way she did."

  "Then the truth won't hurt her," said Rachel, with a minimum of sympathy. Her own knowledge of Louise was confined to a brief period at school when the older girl had singled her out for spiteful attention. Chubby, freckle-faced, copper-haired, and very unsure of herself, Rachel Jennings had been teased mercilessly by dark-haired Daisy Burton who reveled in calling her a "fat gingerbread freak." Her hatred for Daisy had made her avoid Billy for years, and it wasn't until he admitted that his sister's name was Louise, that she was a redhead herself, and, better still, had probably died of a drug overdose, that Rachel had discovered the eternal truth-siblings are rarely alike.