Peter Lovesey - Murder on the Short List

“If you say so.”

“Then I dare say you’ve met some of your neighbours, the people along Steven Street, when they’re outside cleaning their cars, doing gardening or walking the dog. Did you ever speak to the old couple at number twenty-nine?”

He started swaying back and forth in the chair. “I might have.”

“They have a little toy dog, a Chihuahua. They’re very attached to it, I understand.”

“Don’t like them,” Jon said, still swaying.

“Why’s that? Something they did?”

“Don’t know.”

“I think you do. Maybe they remind you of some people you knew once.”

He was silent, but the rocking became more agitated. Momentarily his chin lifted from his chest and his face was visible. Fear was written large there.

“Could this old couple have brought to mind those foster parents you told me about in a previous session, when we discussed your childhood, the people who locked you in the cupboard under the stairs?”

He moaned a little.

“They had a small dog, didn’t they?”

He covered his eyes and said, “Don’t.”

“All right,” I said. “We’ll talk about something else.”

“You’ll get thrown out of the union, showing me that,” Morgan said. “Isn’t there such a thing as patient confidentiality?”

“In the first place, I don’t belong to a union,” I said, “and in the second I’m trying to act in the best interests of all concerned.”

“Thinking he could kill again, are you?”

“Who are we talking about here?” I asked.

“The second man. Jon. He seems to have a thing about old people. He’s obviously very depressed.”

“That’s his usual state. It doesn’t make him a killer. I wanted you to look at the interview before you jump to a conclusion about Nathan, the other man.”

“Nathan isn’t depressed, that’s for sure.”

“Agreed. He has a more buoyant personality than Jon. Did you notice the body language? Nathan sits forward, makes eye contact, while Jon looks down all the time. You don’t see much of his face.”

“That stuff about the foster parents locking him in the cupboard. Is that true?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure of it. I’d be confident of anything Jon tells me. He doesn’t give out much, but you can rely on him. With Nathan I’m never sure. He has a fertile imagination and he wants to communicate. He’s trying all the time to make his experiences interesting.”

“Falling into the pond, you mean? Did you believe that?”

“It’s not impossible. It would explain the change of clothes.”

“I was sure he was talking bollocks but now that you’ve shown me this other man I’m less confident. I’d like to question Jon myself.”

“That won’t be possible,” I said.

He reddened. “It’s a bit bloody late to put up the shutters. I’ve got my job to do and no one’s going to stand in my way.”

“Before you get heavy with me, inspector, let me run a section of the second interview again. I’m going to turn off the sound and I want you to look closely at Jon. There’s a moment when he sways back and the light catches his face.”

I rewound the tape and let it play again, fast forwarding until I found the piece I wanted, the moment I’d mentioned the old couple and Jon had started his swaying, a sure indicator of stress. “There.” I used the freeze-frame function.

Jon’s face was not quite in focus but there was enough to make him recognizable.

“Christ Almighty,” Morgan said. “It’s the same guy. It’s Nathan.”

I let the discovery sink in.

“Am I right?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Then what the hell is going on?”

“This may be hard for you to accept. Nathan and Jon are two distinct identities contained in the same individual, a condition we know as Dissociative Identity Disorder. It used to be known as Multiple Personality Disorder, but we’ve moved on in our understanding. These so-called personalities are fragments of the same identity rather than self-contained characters. Jon is the primary identity, passive and repressed. Nathan is an alter ego, extrovert, cheerful and inventive.”

“I’ve heard of this,” Morgan said. “It’s like being possessed by different people. I saw a film once.”

“Exactly. Fertile material for Hollywood, but no entertainment at all if you happen to suffer with it. The disturbance is real and frightening. A subject can take on any number of personality states, each with its own self-image and identity. The identities act as if they have no connection with each other. My job is to deconstruct them and ultimately unite them into one individual. Jon and Nathan will become Jonathan.”

“Neat.”

“It may sound neat, but it’s a long process.”

“It’s neat for me,” he said. “I wasn’t sure which of the two guys is the killer. Now I know there’s only one of them, I’ve got him, whatever he calls himself.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I said.

He shot me a foul look.

“The therapy requires me to find points of contact between the alter-personalities. When you came to me with this double murder, I could see how disturbing it would be for Jon. He carries most of the guilt. But this investigation of yours could be a helpful disturbance. It goes right back to the trauma that I think was the trigger for this condition, his ill-treatment at the hands of foster-parents who happened to own a dog they pampered and preferred to the child.”

“My heart bleeds,” Morgan said, “but I have a job to do and two people are dead.”

“So you tell me. Jon thinks he may have murdered them, but he didn’t.”

“Come off it,” he said.

“Listen, please. Nathan’s story was true. He really did have that experience with the balloon and the little dog and falling in the pond. For him — as the more positive of the identities — it was one more entertaining experience to relate. But for Jon, who experienced it also, it was disturbing, raising memories of the couple who fostered him and abused him. He felt quite differently, murderous even.”

“Hold on,” Morgan said. “Are you trying to tell me the murders never happened?”

“They happened in the mind of Jon and they are as real to him as if he cut those old people’s throats himself. But I promise you the old couple are alive and well. I went to Steven Street at lunch time and spoke to them. They confirmed what Nathan told me.”

“I don’t get this. I’m thinking You’re nuts as well.”

“But it’s important that you do get it,” I told him. “There’s a third identity at work here. It acts as a kind of conscience, vengeful, controlling and ready to condemn. It, too, is convinced the murders took place and have to be investigated. Recognizing this is the first step towards integration. Do me a favour and have another look at Jon’s face. It’s still on the screen.”

He gave an impatient sigh and glanced at the image.

“Now look at this, inspector.”

I handed him a mirror.

“There is a window in your life. All you have to do is open it and let the sunshine in.”

Nikki listened, fascinated. She’d come here expecting a con, but the man spoke like a prophet. He had his audience enthralled. He was a brilliant speaker. Looks, perfect grooming, charisma. He had it all.

“How many times have I heard someone say, ‘You should have been here yesterday. It was glorious’?” He smiled. “A comment on our English weather, but it sums up our attitude to life. You should have been here yesterday. My friends, forget about yesterday. We are here today. Seize the day. Open that window and let the sunshine in.”

The applause was wild. He’d brought them to a pitch of excitement. And this wasn’t evangelism. It was about being effective in business. The setting was Lucknam Park in Wiltshire, where the government held its think-tank sessions. Companies had paid big bucks to send their upcoming executives here. Lives were being changed for ever. Not least, Nikki’s.