Chameleon's Shadow

‘Which is why they’re illegal in this country. In the hands of someone like Jen they could kill you. The body can only take so many shocks.’

‘She thought it was funny.’

Jackson heard the hatred in his voice. ‘How did you stop her?’

‘She took a phone call . . . and it lasted longer than she realized. When she came back I managed to lock on to her wrist and turn the gun on her.’ He fell into another brief silence. ‘I came damn close to killing her. I could have done it easily and she knew it.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Because I’m better than that.’

Like your father, she thought. ‘Did Jen use anything other than the stun gun on you?’

‘Nothing I want to talk about.’

Jackson shook her head. ‘Mr Jones won’t accept that. He needs to know if she hit you with the knobkerrie.’

There was a small hesitation. ‘She didn’t have to stun me to do that. It was her favourite weapon. It started as a joke . . . a tap on the wrist if I was late. It turned nasty around July, when I told her about the month’s training in Oman. She damn near broke my arm on one occasion.’

Jackson glanced at him again. ‘When did she first use the knobkerrie? Before or after the engagement?’

‘I’m not a complete idiot. After,’ he said with another wry laugh. ‘She was fine up until then.’ He paused. ‘I thought maybe I’d pushed her into something she didn’t want to do, but it made her worse when I said we didn’t have to go through with it. I made myself scarce whenever she kicked off . . . but she didn’t like that either.’

‘At the Crown?’

He nodded. ‘I told the superintendent I never spoke to the taxi driver, but I think I may have done. I remember being given a card one time which I passed on to Jen. She goes everywhere in cabs.’ He lapsed into another silence.

‘So what makes Jen angry?’

‘The same thing that fires my mother up . . . not getting her own way. As long as you agree with her, she’s fine. It’s when you say no that the trouble starts.’

‘Some people can’t function without constant approval. Any disagreement is seen as the equivalent of rejection, and they react angrily because they feel degraded and betrayed. Does that describe Jen and your mother?’

‘Apart from the things you’ve left out.’

‘Like what?’

‘The fact that they live in fantasy worlds about how sweet-natured and beautiful they are . . . The fact that the more approval they’re given the worse they get . . . The fact that they don’t give a shit about anyone else—’ He broke off on a sigh. ‘Jen wasn’t always like that, you know. She was great at the beginning.’

‘And probably still is when she wants to be,’ said Jackson calmly. ‘People with personality disorders don’t lack charm. They employ it whenever they want to manipulate a situation to suit themselves . . . particularly if they think of themselves as special in some way.’

The humour lines appeared around Acland’s eye. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘Your father deserves your admiration and not your scorn. From what you’ve told me, he seems to have gone to immense trouble to break the cycles of abuse within your family, both by controlling his own responses to your mother’s aggression and by shielding you from the worst of it. That’s not an easy thing to do.’

The humour vanished. ‘It didn’t work, though, did it?’

Jackson eyed him thoughtfully. ‘You tell me. I know of only two occasions when you retaliated against Jen – the last time you went to her flat and the day she visited you in hospital. Were there more?’

‘Three, if you count turning the stun gun on her.’ He squeezed one fist inside the other. ‘If I’d been more like my father, those men would still be alive. The dates all fit.’

‘That doesn’t make you responsible. It’s just as likely that having you helpless on the floor gave her a perverted sense of power and she re-enacted it because she enjoyed it.’ She watched his writhing hands. ‘You said I shouldn’t bet on knowing all your secrets. What else did she do to you?’

He avoided a direct answer. ‘Jen wouldn’t have taken the knobkerrie with her if she hadn’t meant to humiliate those men.’

Humiliate...? ‘How?’

His expression was bleak. ‘The same way she humiliated me,’ he said.

*

Jones and Beale listened to Jackson in silence. ‘He told us last night that he buggered her as punishment,’ Jones remarked when she’d finished. ‘It makes more sense now. Was that his real reason for going back to her flat? To pay her out in kind?’ ‘I suspect it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. He says he sent her a text warning her to make herself scarce, but I’m sure he knew she wouldn’t take any notice of it.’ ‘Is that why he feels responsible?’ asked Beale. ‘I imagine so,’ said Jackson with a touch of sarcasm. ‘He didn’t become a monk for religious reasons.’ She paused. ‘One way and another, he has a lot on his conscience.’ ‘The deaths of three men,’ agreed Beale drily. ‘Two,’ she corrected him. ‘His troopers . . . and that’s all in his head anyway. I don’t believe he’s remotely to blame for Peel, Britton and Atkins. He could never have predicted that Jen would take out her anger on strangers.’ ‘He still played a part,’ said Jones, ‘even if unwittingly.’ ‘You could say the same about Harold Shipman’s wife. Being in a relationship with a disturbed personality doesn’t mean you set them on the route to crime.’