Past Imperfect (69 page)

'... In working with children, as Donaldson did almost exclusively, I felt that many would have vivid imaginations in any case. Particularly because he so often worked with children in India and Asia, where reincarnation is an accepted part of their culture.'

'And you generally have avoided working with children from those regions?'

'Yes. My main work has been with children in America and Europe.'

'Any particular reason for this?'

Marinella thought for a moment. 'Challenge, I suppose. It was more of a challenge to delve into past lives with children from a culture where reincarnation wasn't normally accepted, rather than one where it was. And, of course, this makes hypnosis all the more essential - to drag out buried or heavily repressed memories.'

Fresh breath from Barielle. 'Can you tell me: what are the percentages of people that believe in past life regressions in Europe and America?'

'In America the figures are going up all the time. As much as thirty, thirty-five percent, I now believe. But in Europe I understand that it's slightly less - twenty, twenty-five percent. But among the rest, there's a lot of 'not sures' and 'don't knows’.’

'I see. But in general, in America and Europe, is it fair to say that most people do not fully accept or believe?'

Marinella cast her eyes down slightly; reluctant admission. 'Yes, it is.'

'In your own work, has this been significant? Something you have seen as an obstacle: that, if possible, you would like to change. Get more people to believe?'

Marinella shrugged and smiled. 'Yes, of course. It's something that everyone working with PLR and related fields is continually fighting for - wider acceptance. That's why we spend so much time building up strong case histories.' One eyebrow arched, as if to say: stupid question. Days and sometimes weeks spent compiling tapes and transcripts. Ninety pages alone from Eyran Capel's sessions, with her and Donaldson up until 2am solidly for over a week to knock it into shape for a publishable paper for the University. 'It's a constant battle against scepticism - much of it from within our own profession. From the more staid and conventional areas of psychiatry and psychology.'

'So, it would be true to say that your desire to convince a wider audience about the relevance of PLR has been a strong driving force behind your career to date?'

'Yes.' The first warning signs; Marinella felt the need to quickly redress the balance. 'It was the main reason I specialized so strongly in xenoglossy: use of a foreign language unknown to the main subject. Probably the strongest possible support for real regressions - particularly with young children who've had little or no opportunity to learn the language in question. This was the main reason why Dr Lambourne contacted me in the first place with the Eyran Capel case. My work with xenoglossy.'

'Eyran Capel has been a particularly large and important case for you?'

'Yes.' Unequivocal: she'd had nothing else even nearing it.

Barielle flicked through some notes. 'But I understand that you had some relative success with a xenoglossy case a few years back. A young boy in Cincinnati. Can you tell me what happened there?'

Marinella looked sharply at Corbeix. She hadn't told him in her briefing that morning nor, she was sure, had she mentioned anything to Fornier. Then her gaze shifted to Thibault's tell-tale half smile. He quickly averted his eyes to something indicated in a folder by his assistant. Jesus, they
had
been digging. 'I had a paper half published, announcements prepared for a forthcoming full paper - when the boy's father pulled him from the sessions.'

'What were the reasons he gave?'

'That he didn't feel his son would benefit from continuing regressionary sessions. Was worried even that they might harm him.'

'As a result, I daresay that this was something that you would not like to have happen again: a subject being pulled away from sessions prematurely.'

'No, I suppose not.' Faint annoyance at the obviousness. 'I don't think anyone would.'

Barielle's blue eyes glared across purposefully. 'So tell me: what was the reaction of Dr Lambourne or Eyran Capel's uncle and guardian, Stuart, when you told them that the final sessions would be used to track down clues on Christian Rosselot's murder?'

Marinella's mouth suddenly went dry. She felt as if a trap door had suddenly opened. She flustered: 'Well - we just didn't know straightaway that was what we were looking for. That didn't come out till later.'

'But I understand that Chief Inspector Fornier was present at some of those final sessions?'

'Yes, but only the last one.' Suddenly the fire exit was there and she bolted for it. 'That was when he first saw the possibility of vital details coming out about the murder and decided to attend.'

'And for the other sessions?'

'I sent him transcripts and tapes.'

'So he nurtured and maintained an interest in the case throughout - but didn't reveal the purpose of that interest until the last moment?'

'Yes.' Marinella shrugged. 'I don't think he was even sure himself until the last moment.'

'I see.' Barielle was brooding, thoughtful. He didn't look satisfied. He flicked through some notes, then looked across at Corbeix. 'What do you have in your file for the date the notary Fenouillet was first contacted about travelling to London?' You might be able to find it easier than me.'

Corbeix was slightly flustered at the proceedings swinging suddenly to him. He leafed quickly through his own notes. 'Here it is. April third.'

Barielle asked the session dates in London and Corbeix flicked through more pages. Finally: 'March thirtieth, April fourth, April sixth and April the eleventh.'

'So... just before the second session. It would appear therefore that Fornier was certainly aware of the possibility after even the first of those final sessions.' Barielle turned again to Marinella Calvan. 'And Chief Inspector Fornier mentioned nothing to you at that stage about using the information to possibly further his investigation?'

Marinella changed tack, realizing that if she stuck to her guns it would reflect badly on Fornier. 'Well, nothing directly. But he certainly intimated it.'

'Intimated? Could you possibly elaborate on exactly what was and wasn't said...'

Corbeix cringed as Barielle and Calvan argued over semantics of language: was she aware that those final sessions were aiding an investigation or not? After a few moments, the most he was able to get from her was that she was made 'vaguely aware.' But certainly she didn't know for sure until the sessions were drawing to a close.

'And this 'vague awareness'. Was this at any time passed on to Dr Lambourne or Stuart Capel?'

'I might have hinted at something,' Marinella fumbled. 'I don't remember exactly. We had quite a few conversations, some elements of the case were extremely complicated, as you appreciate.'

Barielle stared impatiently at Calvan. 'It's a straightforward question, Ms Calvan. Did Lambourne or Stuart Capel know that these final sessions might aid a murder investigation?'

'Not directly.' Marinella bit back. 'How could they if at that stage I didn't even know for sure myself. As I mentioned, even Chief Inspector Fornier I don't think was totally sure until the final session.'

Barielle sighed. Calvan's ambiguity was wearing him down. The three way nature of the questioning made it all the more tedious. 'Well, thankfully we'll soon be able to ask Dr Lambourne and Stuart Capel directly if they knew. But to dispense with you for the time being, Ms Calvan: your final word is that you did not know for sure the sessions were being used to aid a murder investigation until the final session?'

'No, that's correct.'

'And for a moment presuming that you had known and had informed Dr Lambourne and Stuart Capel - what do you think would have been their reaction?'

'I'm not sure. I don't know.' But she was trembling inside: she did know, she was sure.

'Then let me suggest something: given your past experience with the Cincinnati boy, isn't it likely that your first assumption would have been that they would have pulled Eyran from the sessions prematurely - they wouldn't have agreed to continue?'

'I don't know,' Marinella flustered. 'That's purely speculative. The thought never even really...'

Barielle steamrollered over her protests, didn't even wait for the translation. '... Or certainly, even if that wouldn't have happened, that's what you would have feared. Which is why you ensured that nothing was mentioned to either Dr Lambourne or Stuart Capel. You were afraid of losing one of the largest cases of your career.'

Corbeix cradled his head in one hand as Barielle continued, now emphasizing just how big a case this was for her: speeches, book contracts, chat shows, a spot on Larry King just the other week which Barielle had viewed on videotape. Thibault's people had been busy. Very busy. Thibault had fed Barielle a particularly juicy rabbit this time, and Barielle obviously wasn't going to be satisfied until he'd stripped the last inch of flesh.

'... It has been suggested by defence counsel that the enormity of this case and your pursuit of the possible fame and fortune derived from it, has severely tainted your judgement. That if Dr Lambourne and Stuart Capel had been informed of the purpose of those final sessions, they would have never agreed to them. And by not providing such information, in effect, the final sessions with Eyran Capel were gained under false pretences. And resultantly, none of the evidence gained therein should be accepted.'

Corbeix noticed Barielle glancing at his folder. Perhaps referring to the exact text provided by Thibault. No doubt another mistrial demand.

'... And on the evidence so far before me, I'm inclined to agree. But before I conclude my decision, as I say, I will hear first from Dr Lambourne and Stuart Capel.' Barielle flicked forward a page in his folder. 'Finally, Ms Calvan - when was it that the possible potential of this case struck you? When did you start arranging lecture tours and chat shows?'

An easy question at last, thought Calvan. 'Well obviously, not until after the last session.'

'So, mid April sometime?'

'Yes, about then.'

'Then I would like you to listen to this.' Barielle produced a tape recorder from beneath his desk top. 'I will ask your comments afterwards.' A small cassette recorder, Barielle ceremoniously pressed play. The sound was faint and tinny, and Barielle turned up the sound to ensure it carried across the room.

'... it's a story we're preparing for next week's edition.'

'What paper did you say?'

'Miami Herald.'

Marinella recognized the voice straightaway: her agent, Stephanie Bruckmann. Stephanie had mentioned the
Miami Herald
calling.

'... we were hoping to combine a short bio on Marinella Calvan with a human interest piece on this case in France. I saw King's interview a few days back. Sounds a fascinating case...'

A man's voice. Whoever it was, they were good; the mood settled with general questions to start before honing in on finer detail. Answers were teased thick and fast out of Bruckmann, the two voices singing tinnily across the room.

Marinella felt as if she had been raped. She'd come fully prepared for PLR to be put on trial: its credibility questioned and pummelled from every angle. But in the end they'd attacked mainly her own credibility. And now this was the final assault. One of Thibault's Stateside goons posing as a reporter. She felt as if he'd broken into her home and rifled through her bedside drawer, had picked out her private diary and was now reading it aloud to the courtroom. Underhand
shit
.

'... And when was it she first contacted you to start setting up possible speeches and interviews?'

'Sometime in April, I believe.'

'Do you remember the exact day? It's important, you see - to get the biography accurate.'

Pause. Faint flicking of paper.
'Yes, here we are. I started setting things in motion on the... the twenty-fourth of April. But she initially made contact, what - about three weeks before. She phoned me from London, told me what was in the pipeline with PLR and the murder case. Then we talked a couple more times in between as the sessions progressed.'

If Marinella hadn't already guessed what was the crucial point on the tape - she would have known from the way Barielle that second stared up at her. Searing blue eyes. She read it all in Barielle's face: Three weeks before the twenty-fourth. Third of April! Only days after the first session.
Crucifixion
.

She wanted to scream:
it's not fair; it wasn't just for myself, but for the acceptance of PLR at large.
Scream at the injustice and the tactics used to gain the tape. At Thibault and his goons and the slimy murderer of a politician who had hired them. But the image that overrode was of Dominic Fornier walking away from her that day in Covent Garden, shoulders slumped. A lifetime of tracking down Duclos, and now her stupidity had let him down. Destroyed the case.

And now there was probably nothing she could say that Barielle would believe; it would only make matters worse. So she just listened as the tape droned to a finish, stood red-faced, feeling powerless and cheated as the last of her credibility slipped away.

Cold marble. Dominic could feel the chill of the corridor. Unlike the individual rooms, the corridors in the Palais de Justice had hardly changed through the years. Timeless. Memories of Perrimond, of Machanaud; of every bold Prosecutor and the many poor condemned souls who had sat in the cavernous hallways the past thirty years, awaiting their fate.

Sat as Dominic was now on a wood bench, staring down at the floor. Dirt ingrained in marble tiles, the only remnants left of those who had waited on justice. Stained memories.

Marinella Calvan had come out only moments before and recounted the catalogue of disasters that had taken place inside. 'I'm sorry. It all went so terribly wrong. I just don't know how they got hold of half the information.'