Joona Linna Crime Series Books 1-3: The Hypnotist, The Nightmare, The Fire Witness

“When I scratched my noggin,” Jussi explained.

Some of them laughed.

“Let’s have some associations with hair,” I said, with a smile. “Charlotte?”

“I don’t know. Hair? Beard, maybe … no.”

Pierre interrupted her in his high voice. “A hippie, a hippie on a chopper,” he said with a smile. “He’s sitting like this, chewing a piece of Juicyfruit, and—”

Suddenly Eva got up with such a violent movement that the chair banged behind her. “This is just childish nonsense,” she said angrily, pointing at Pierre.

“Why do you feel that way?” I asked.

Eva didn’t reply, she merely met my gaze before sulkily flopping back down on her chair.

“Pierre, would you continue, please,” I said calmly.

He shook his head, forming a cross with his index fingers and pointing them at Eva, pretending to protect himself against her.

“They shot Dennis Hopper because he was a hippie,” he whispered conspiratorially.

Sibel giggled even more loudly and glanced expectantly at me. Jussi raised his hand and turned to Eva.

“In the haunted house you won’t have to listen to our childish nonsense,” he said, in his strong accent.

The room fell completely silent. It occurred to me that Eva had no way of knowing what the haunted house meant to our group, but I left it.

Eva Blau turned to Jussi. It looked as if she were going to yell something at him, but he simply gazed back at her with such a calm, serious expression that she appeared to change her mind and settled back down.

“Eva, we begin with relaxation exercises and breathing and then I hypnotise you, one by one or in pairs,” I explained. “Of course, everyone participates all the time, regardless of the level of consciousness on which you find yourself.”

An ironic smile passed over Eva’s face.

“And sometimes,” I went on, “if I feel it will work, I try to put the whole group into a deep hypnosis.”

I pulled up my chair and asked them to close their eyes and lean back. “Your feet should be on the floor, your hands should be resting on your lap,” I repeated.

As I gently led them deeper into a state of relaxation, I decided to begin by investigating Eva Blau’s secret rooms. It was important for her to make some contribution soon, in order to be accepted by the group. I counted backwards and listened to their breathing, immersing them in a light hypnotic state and leaving them just beneath the silvery surface of the water.

“Eva, I am speaking only to you,” I said. “You should feel safe and relaxed. Just listen to my voice and follow my words. Follow my words spontaneously all the time. Do not question them. You are amid their flow, not anticipating, not analysing, but right here in the moment the whole time.”

We were sinking through grey water, falling down into the dark depths past a thick rope, a hawser festooned with swaying ribbons of seaweed. I looked up and glimpsed the rest of the group dangling there with the tops of their heads brushing the rippling mirror.

At the same time, I was actually standing behind Eva Blau’s chair with one hand on her shoulder, speaking calmly, my voice growing softer. She was leaning back, her face relaxed.

In my own trance, the water around her was sometimes brown, sometimes grey. Her face lay in shadow, her mouth tightly closed. Her brow was furrowed, but her gaze was completely blank. Lars Ohlson’s notes contained almost nothing about her background, so I decided to try a cautious entry strategy. Evoking a calm and happy time ironically often proves to be the quickest way into the most difficult areas.

“You are ten years old, Eva,” I said, coming around so that I could observe her from the front.

Her chest was barely moving; she was breathing calmly, gently, from down in her diaphragm.

“You are ten years old, Eva. This is a good day. You are happy. Why are you happy?”

Eva pouted sweetly, smiled to herself, and said, “Because the man is dancing and splashing in the puddles.”

“Who’s dancing?” I asked.

“Who?” She didn’t speak for a moment. “Gene Kelly, Mummy says.”

“Oh, so you’re watching Singin’ in the Rain?”

A slow nod.

“What happens?”

I saw her face slowly sink towards her chest. Suddenly a strange expression flitted across her lips.

“My tummy is big,” she said, almost inaudibly.

“Your tummy?”

“It’s huge,” she said, with tears in her voice.

Jussi was breathing heavily beside her. From the corner of my eye I could see that he was moving his lips.

“The haunted house,” he whispered, in his state of light hypnosis. “The haunted house.”

“Eva, listen to me,” I said. “You can hear everyone else in this room, but you must listen only to my voice. Pay no attention to what the others say, pay attention only to my voice.”

“OK,” she said, her expression contented.

“Do you know why your tummy is big?” I asked.

“I want to go into the haunted house,” she whispered.

I counted backwards, suggesting the staircase that led ever downwards. As I counted, I was thinking that something wasn’t right. I myself was immersed in pleasantly warm water, as I slowly drifted down past the rock face, deeper and deeper.

Eva Blau lifted her chin, moistened her lips, sucked in her cheeks, and whispered, “I can see them taking someone. They just come up and take someone.”

“Who’s taking someone?” I asked.

Her breathing became irregular. Her face grew darker. Brown, cloudy water drifted in front of her.

“A man with a ponytail. He’s hanging the little person up on the ceiling,” she whimpered.

She was clutching the hawser with the billowing seaweed tightly with one hand; her legs were paddling slowly.

Something wasn’t right. With an effortful thrust I pushed myself outside the hypnosis. Eva Blau was faking. I was absolutely certain that she wasn’t under hypnosis. She had resisted, blocked my suggestion. She’s lying, she isn’t under hypnosis at all, my brain whispered coldly.