John Matthews - Past Imperfect

She wanted to scream: it's not fair; it wasn't just for myself, but for the acceptance of PLR at large. Scream at the injustice and the tactics used to gain the tape. At Thibault and his goons and the slimy murderer of a politician who had hired them. But the image that overrode was of Dominic Fornier walking away from her that day in Covent Garden, shoulders slumped. A lifetime of tracking down Duclos, and now her stupidity had let him down. Destroyed the case.

And now there was probably nothing she could say that Barielle would believe; it would only make matters worse. So she just listened as the tape droned to a finish, stood red-faced, feeling powerless and cheated as the last of her credibility slipped away.

Cold marble. Dominic could feel the chill of the corridor. Unlike the individual rooms, the corridors in the Palais de Justice had hardly changed through the years. Timeless. Memories of Perrimond, of Machanaud; of every bold Prosecutor and the many poor condemned souls who had sat in the cavernous hallways the past thirty years, awaiting their fate.

Sat as Dominic was now on a wood bench, staring down at the floor. Dirt ingrained in marble tiles, the only remnants left of those who had waited on justice. Stained memories.

Marinella Calvan had come out only moments before and recounted the catalogue of disasters that had taken place inside. 'I'm sorry. It all went so terribly wrong. I just don't know how they got hold of half the information.'

Dominic could see she was distraught. She could have just rushed past him and headed straight down the Palais de Justice steps without taking the time out to say anything. He placated. 'It's okay. We gave it our best shot. If it's not meant to be, then so be it.' Monique's words. 'Even the publicity to date will have done Duclos no good.'

As Marinella had come out, David Lambourne was called in. She commented: 'I don't think he'll do us any particular favours.'

Beyond Dominic on the bench were Stuart and Eyran Capel. Stuart would appear straight after Lambourne, then Eyran to close the afternoon's proceedings. Since the boy had no direct recall of what took place under hypnosis, he would be asked only his name, date of birth, and to confirm the times and dates he attended the sessions in question.

Dominic wasn't sure how much Stuart Capel had overheard of his conversation with Marinella Calvan, but when she went over in turn to say hello to Stuart, Dominic noticed that at first Stuart looked concerned. A few words with both Stuart and Eyran, a quick ruffle of Eyran's hair, and soon afterwards she was gone. Dominic recalled that she had a boy of her own about Eyran Capel's age.

Noticing Dominic stare thoughtfully at the floor, Stuart commented: 'I suppose it must come as something of a blow?'

'I don't know if it's fully hit me yet.' Dominic sighed. So Stuart had overheard something, or Marinella had mentioned it. 'It just seems to have been such a long haul. The past few weeks have felt like thirty years. I've had to re-live my past all over again.' Pained smile. 'All my sins.'

They sat in silence for a moment. Respect for the dead trial. Stuart Capel was the first to break it.

'When is the hearing with your wife?'

'Two hearings time. Probably about a month or so.'

Stuart nodded. Lambourne had sent him copies of the transcripts two weeks after the last sessions with Calvan. When Eyran's condition started dramatically improving, Stuart was curious what had led to that turning point. A haunting, almost surreal quality to the transcripts which Stuart had found hard to relate to Eyran. Hardly any of that netherworld had broken through to Eyran's life outside of the dreams. Stuart hadn't let Eyran read the transcripts, but had recounted the main foundations of the case. Eyran's first main excitement had been that he had been helping out on a real-life murder case. Then later the deeper relevance dawned: that it was a past life, and in that life, he had been the victim. Pieces of a dark puzzle slotting finally into place. The last stages in a long healing process. Acceptance.

And as part of that final closing of the book, they'd arranged to go to the wheat field with Fornier earlier that morning. They were staying in Cannes, Fornier in Lyon: they met at a cafe by the Bauriac main square and drove out. Thirty minutes of walking through an empty field, some extra colour and shapes put to the voice on tape — but no real answers.

But part of Eyran's rising curiosity had been Monique Rosselot, and Stuart had asked about her then: 'Would she be at the later hearing? Eyran had hoped to meet her.' And Dominic had explained the sequence. Monique wouldn't appear until two hearings time to confirm the details on tape and corroborate the coin evidence: that Christian left that fateful day with it in his pocket.

They'd followed in a separate hire car to Aix, so hadn't discussed it further. But now with its mention again, Dominic commented: 'With all this happening — I doubt her hearing will even take place now. Look, leave me your number before you leave. I'll talk to Monique.'

Stuart took out his wallet and fished out a card. 'That's my work number in London.'

Dominic took it and tucked it into his own wallet. When Dominic had mentioned the meeting at Taragnon to Monique, he'd left a long pause after. He hadn't wanted to ask directly if she wanted to go: insensitive. But she'd just bit her lip and looked away. Her curiosity obviously didn't go that far. It could have been Taragnon, or what memories the boy might stir. 'How many sessions left now?' Dominic asked. Stuart had earlier mentioned them winding down.

'Only three more, then that should be it.'

Dominic smiled at Eyran. Coy smile in return, hesitant. Stuart said that he'd improved a lot, but he was probably anxious now about testifying, thought Dominic. 'Don't worry, the magistrate's quite tame really. They feed him fresh bananas and nuts every hour.' Wider smile in response from Eyran, all reservation gone. The boy looked well. At least one good thing to have come out of the whole mess. 'Just remember that he was also eleven once, and you'll be fine.'

Stuart too smiled and nodded. Appreciative of the brief pep comment. 'There was a bit of disagreement between Lambourne and Marinella Calvan about the root cause of Eyran's problem. But in the end it appears Calvan's theory was right: Eyran's accident and period of coma linked to that previous period of coma, opened up the past.' '…Until the events that led up to that previous coma are fully confronted and exorcised, Eyran can't start getting to grips with the problems from his own life. Facing and tackling his own grief.' But the recall reminded Stuart of the calamity that had just been wrought due to Calvan. 'Shame about what just happened with her. Nice lady — I like her. I'm sure she meant well.'

'I'm sure she did.' Feisty, well-meaning Marinella Calvan. One woman with a PLR banner against a world of disbelievers. Her cause was obviously far grander and nobler than his. All he'd wanted was to find justice for a ten year old boy.

Dominic shook off his anger quickly; she wasn't to know the lengths that Thibault and his henchmen would go to. Just another in a long chain of calamities. Though they'd scraped through the last hearing, Corbeix had admitted what had caused one of the main stumbling blocks: his illness. They'd been kidding themselves all along, Dominic mused: the lost voice of a ten year old boy on tape, an ageing detective trying to prove one last big case before late retirement — a case that had haunted him through three decades — and a half-crippled Prosecutor. Up against one of the top Paris law firms and a leading politician. They'd never even had a chance.

Corbeix felt the cramps bite deeper as he saw the case slipping away. But he felt powerless as he watched Barielle question Lambourne. Nothing left to do but to sit and nurse his painful legs.