Disordered Minds

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 [[email protected]]

Sent: Thurs. 5/8/03 14:33

To: [email protected]; [email protected]

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 demanding 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