John Matthews - Past Imperfect

'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 this 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.

'… we were hoping to combine a short bio on Marinella Calvan with a human interest piece on this case in France. I saw King's interview a few days back. Sounds a fascinating case…'

A man's voice. Whoever it was, they were good; the mood settled with general questions to start before honing in on finer detail. Answers were teased thick and fast out of Bruckmann, the two voices singing tinnily across the room.

Marinella felt as if she had been raped. She'd come fully prepared for PLR to be put on trial: its credibility questioned and pummelled from every angle. But in the end they'd attacked mainly her own credibility. And now this was the final assault. One of Thibault's Stateside goons posing as a reporter. She felt as if he'd broken into her home and rifled through her bedside drawer, had picked out her private diary and was now reading it aloud to the courtroom. Underhand shit.

'… And when was it she first contacted you to start setting up possible speeches and interviews?'

'Sometime in April, I believe.'

'Do you remember the exact day? It's important, you see — to get the biography accurate.'

Pause. Faint flicking of paper. 'Yes, here we are. I started setting things in motion on the… the twenty-fourth of April. But she initially made contact, what — about three weeks before. She phoned me from London, told me what was in the pipeline with PLR and the murder case. Then we talked a couple more times in between as the sessions progressed.'

If Marinella hadn't already guessed what was the crucial point on the tape — she would have known from the way Barielle that second stared up at her. Searing blue eyes. She read it all in Barielle's face: Three weeks before the twenty-fourth. Third of April! Only days after the first session. Crucifixion .