A Meditation On Murder

Richard pulled out a little penknife from his pocket. It was ivory-bodied, steel-bladed, and it had been given to him by his Great Uncle Harold to mark the occasion of his first day at boarding school. Richard had been eight years old at the time and Uncle Harold’s rambling rhapsody on the wonders of boarding school had left the eight-year-old Richard with the distinct impression that, from now on, he’d have to be hunting for all of his food. Which wasn’t far from the truth, of course, and Richard had kept the knife close ever since. You never knew when you’d need a pocket knife. Like now.

In five long steps, Richard strode across the room, stabbed the penknife high into the wall and slashed down through the paper. It wasn’t easy—the paper was thick and waxy—but the knife was whetstone sharp and Richard soon had a slit down to the floor.

Stepping through the rip in the wall, Richard found himself on the outside of the building and face to face with a very shocked Dominic De Vere.

‘What the hell are you playing at!’ Dominic all but shouted, looking at the tiny but vicious knife in Richard’s hand.

Camille appeared around the side of the building—but she also kept her distance a little. If Dominic tried to bolt, she’d have him covered.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ Richard said, increasingly irritated that Dominic had once again appeared in the middle of their investigation.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘What are you doing here?’

Dominic thought for a moment, collecting his thoughts. ‘But it’s obvious what I’m doing here.’

‘Then perhaps you’d like to explain.’

‘It’s simple. I saw, like, shadows inside the Meditation Space and it freaked me out. Because—you know—it’s, like, a crime scene. Then I remembered! What if it was the killer and he’d come back to revisit the scene? You know, like killers are supposed to do. They return to the scene of their crime. So I thought to myself: if it was the killer inside the Meditation Space, maybe I could unmask him!’

Richard didn’t believe a word of Dominic’s explanation and he risked a glance at Camille. It was clear that she was just as sceptical.

‘I didn’t know you were the police, did I?’ Dominic continued. ‘I just didn’t want to be seen before I made my citizen’s arrest.’ Dominic indicated the long rip that Richard had cut into the paper. ‘And now I’m going to have to repair this wall, aren’t I?’

‘Oh?’ Richard said.

‘You know, where you’ve ripped it,’ Dominic said, indicating the long slit in the wall.

‘Yes, can I ask about that?’ Richard said. ‘Because we’ve been wondering: what happens if one of these walls gets damaged?’

‘You mean like when someone cuts through it with a knife?’ Dominic said in a feeble attempt at sarcasm.

‘Or they get damaged in a hurricane.’

‘Well, we’ve got spare rolls of paper in the basement under the hotel. But we’ve not had to replace any of the paper walls for nearly a year. Since the end of the last hurricane season, in fact. But I’ll have to mend this wall now.’

‘I don’t think you will,’ Camille said.

‘Oh?’

‘Because this is a crime scene. You can’t go near it.’

‘That’s very much been the thrust of what we’ve been saying,’ Richard added.

‘Oh,’ Dominic said. ‘Right. I see.’

‘But there’s another reason we don’t want you fixing walls here,’ Camille continued. ‘And that’s because we’d like you to accompany us to the police station so you can put Julia into a hypnotic trance.’

Dominic was amazed by the suggestion.

But not as amazed as Richard was. Looking at his partner, he had to resist the urge to stamp his foot like a middle-aged Rumpelstiltskin in a suit. Camille had promised him she wouldn’t do this!

For her part, Camille was avoiding her boss’s stare as she waited for Dominic’s response.

‘And you’re okay with that?’ Dominic asked, surprised.

‘Sure,’ Camille said. ‘Julia’s asked for you specifically. She says she’ll be able to remember the murder if you hypnotise her.’

Richard was desperate to stop the madness, but he knew he couldn’t countermand Camille’s offer. Not now that she’d made it. This was because, of the very many self-imposed rules and regulations by which Richard led his life, the commandment that you never disagreed with your partner in front of a witness was one of the most unbreakable.

So it was through gritted teeth that Richard allowed Camille to lead Dominic over to the police jeep. Once Dominic was in the back seat, Richard caught up with Camille before she got into the driver’s side.

‘What do you think you’re playing at?’ he hissed.

‘I promise you, sir,’ Camille lied, ‘I had no intention of getting him into the station when we set out here, but seeing as how Dominic was clearly eavesdropping on us—and is the only person who anyone says ever disagreed with Aslan—I suddenly realised we should maybe bring him in, see how he is with Julia. After all, it’s interesting that she asked for him, don’t you think?’

Richard knew that what Camille was suggesting was totally unprofessional, and yet she was right about one thing. Here was Dominic again, turning up like a bad penny. And although nothing Julia said under hypnosis would ever be admissible in court, they could maybe use whatever she said as a jumping off point for their investigation.

Once back at the station, Richard was interested to see that while Dominic was pleased to see Julia, she was a touch awkward with him—which was odd considering that it was her who’d asked for Dominic’s help. But then, Richard considered, from Julia’s point of view she was about to go into a trance to try to remember the precise moment she’d committed a murder; it was perhaps unsurprising she was on edge.

As for Dominic, as far as Richard was concerned, he was his usual preening peacock self, even going so far as to warn the police that he might inadvertently put one of them into a trance, such were his powers. By this point, Julia was lying on the old mattress in her cell, Dominic sitting in a chair to her side, talking gently to her—and Richard, Camille and Dwayne were all crammed in behind. Fidel had also wanted to attend the hypnosis session, but Richard had insisted he stop trying to lift prints from the murder weapon so he could lift whatever prints he could from the two extra drawing pins Richard and Camille had just found at the murder scene. As a matter of urgency.

‘You can feel a heavy, relaxed feeling coming over you,’ Dominic murmured to Julia as she lay on the bed, her eyes closed. ‘And as I continue to talk, that heavy relaxed feeling will only get stronger and stronger. And the deeper you go, the deeper you are able to go. And the deeper you go, the deeper you want to go, and the more enjoyable the experience becomes. Now you are resting comfortably in a deep, peaceful state of sleep.’

Dominic looked up at Richard.

Clearly it was done. Julia was ready.

‘We want to know what happened in the Meditation Space,’ Richard whispered as quietly as he could.

‘Shh!’ Camille said.

Richard was a little hurt. He’d never been able to whisper quietly, and he was sensitive to this unacknowledged failing.

But Dominic didn’t seem too bothered by Richard’s inability to whisper as he turned back to Julia.

‘Okay, I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer because you feel so safe, so secure … starting with, what is your name?’

‘Julia Higgins,’ Julia said.

‘And where have you been staying?’

‘At The Retreat … happy.’

Julia spoke in a quiet sing-song voice, almost like a child’s. And Richard once again found himself thinking that if this was an act, it was a very convincing one.