Disordered Minds

Jonathan gave a nod of approval. 'How prepared are you to share information?' he asked. 'We're fairly well informed on her story, but there are gaps in our knowledge that you might be able to fill.'

'I can't breach client confidentiality.'

He exchanged a glance with George. 'Then there's no incentive for us to help you,' he said. 'We've put time and effort into researching Cill's story, and you wouldn't know Priscilla Fletcher was worth investigating if Councillor Gardener hadn't paid a visit to William Burton.'

Sasha tried another smile. 'Do you know where Cill Trevelyan is?'

'No.'

'Do you know if she's still alive?'

'No.'

'Then what do you know that's worth my breaking company rules?'

'Enough to give you a helping hand,' said George. 'Have you spoken to Priscilla Fletcher?'

Sasha shook her head. 'I've just come from her house. I'm pretty sure someone was inside but they refused to answer the door. I've no idea if it was her or her husband.' She hesitated. 'Her brother says you have a photograph of her as she is now. May I see it?'

'As long as you show us one of Cill as a child,' said George. 'The Trevelyans must have given you one, but all we have is a black-and-white newspaper cutting. Trade for trade? We'll tell you something ... you tell us something.'

Sasha wasn't as naive as Jonathan thought, so she played with her pencil and pretended to think about it. They'd be freer with their own information if they thought hers had to be enticed out of her.

As if to prove her point, Jonathan leaned forward. 'Live dangerously,' he encouraged her, 'otherwise George'll psychoanalyze you ... and that's a nightmare.'

Louise spotted the card the minute she entered her front door. It lay on the carpet a meter from the doormat as if a current of air had wafted it from the letter box. She picked it up and read it, then thrust it hurriedly into her pocket. If she gave any thought at all to the cameras and tapes that ran in twenty-four-hour loops in Nick's office, it was only in relation to her own arrival. She retreated through the door, her busy mind already working out excuses for her rapid turnaround, and left as quietly as she'd arrived.

Jonathan passed David Trevelyan's statement to George and bent his head to read Jean's. The noise of an occasional car filtered through from the road outside, but otherwise the only sounds were a distant motor-mower and the hum of crickets in the grass. Sasha sat patiently waiting, wishing there was an umbrella. Her skin was reddening in the sun and sweat was running down her back.

'Why don't you take off your jacket?' said Jonathan suddenly. 'You'll fry if you're not careful.'

Sasha gave her automatic smile. 'I'm fine, thank you.'

'Have a hat,' said George, whipping off the pink straw creation and offering it across.

'No ... I'm all right ... thank you.'

Jonathan came to the end of the page and pushed it away. 'Very interesting.' He turned his attention to Sasha again. 'Have you met either of them? What are they like?'

'No, it was a predecessor who interviewed them. He noted down his impressions afterward.' She sorted through her briefcase, looking for them. 'I've listened to the tapes and spoken to Mr. Trevelyan on the phone, but that's all. Here we are.' She read from the page: ''David Trevelyan: Big, impressive man with easy manner. Did most of the talking. Clearly blames himself for what happened. No sense that he was keeping anything back. Jean Trevelyan: Slender, good-looking woman. More subdued than her husband. Spent most of the interview in tears. Also blames herself. No sense that she was keeping anything back. Some disagreement between them over the rape. Jean believes it happened. David can only focus on the way it allowed Cill to be portrayed as a tart. This still makes him angry.'' She looked up. 'That's it.'

'Does he talk on the tapes about the argument with Robert Burton?'

'All the time. He's convinced the Burtons set out to blacken Cill's name deliberately.'

'Why?'

'He's not very sure. He keeps talking about the end result-that the police decided she was promiscuous, probably had a boyfriend she'd never told anyone about, and therefore wrote her off as a runaway.' She paused to collect her thoughts. 'He accuses Louise of lying about everything, including the rape. He says she was diverting mention from something she'd done and accuses the Burtons of backing her up to avoid the police taking too close an interest in their own daughter.'

'That last bit is probably true,' said George thoughtfully, mulling over what Sasha had told them. 'They wouldn't want anyone taking an interest in Louise if William's right about the abuse.' She folded her hands over David Trevelyan's statement. 'I wonder how much the mother knew.'

'She enabled it to happen,' said Sasha.

'Mm.' George pursed her lips in thought. 'Except she couldn't know about the abuse and the rape. One or other, perhaps ... but not both.'

'Why do you say that?' asked Jonathan.

'Because she'd have told Louise to keep her mouth shut at the police station. There was no guarantee they'd accept Louise's story. If they'd had her examined to see if she'd been raped as well, then her father's abuse might have shown up.'

There was a short silence. 'So what do you think happened?' asked Sasha.

'God knows,' said George despondently. 'There's too much to take in ... I can't see the wood for the trees.'

'It's not that bad,' said Jonathan reassuringly, reaching for a clean sheet of paper. 'Let's start with what we know to be true.' He jotted them down as he spoke. 'The rape. The names of the rapists. Cill and Louise's connection with Grace. Mrs. Burton's knowledge of it. Her readiness to lie to the police.' He glanced from one to the other. 'Anything else?'