Dead Wrong - [45]

And that would make sense if he’d been completely out of it beforehand. He comes to, in a cell, blood on his clothes and instead of tea and sympathy he gets unsmiling faces and cold, precise, repetitive questions to answer. The nightmare beginning.

‘It makes it unlikely that he killed Ahktar then, doesn’t it?’ I asked her.

‘I’m no specialist on criminals…’ she began.

‘I know, but in your opinion, if he had done it, you’d have expected a different reaction?’

‘Yes, unless he had actually been in some sort of fugue state or was psychopathic and so lacked the appropriate emotional responses. Of course, the drugs confuse the issue.’

I sighed. ‘Look, I know you’ve got to tread cautiously…’

‘It’s not an exact science.’

‘But what’s your opinion?’ I insisted.

She laughed. ‘OK, Sal. I’d be very surprised if Luke had killed his friend, and there’s nothing to suggest he was even present when the attack took place.’ It was confirmation of what I believed. I was glad of that – after all, it could have been disastrous if the session had revealed Luke as liable for the crime, but still I felt frustrated. We had not a shred more evidence about what had really happened that New Year’s Eve.

I asked Eleanor if anything else had come up that I should know about.

‘Let me check my notes. I tape the session but I jot down key words as we go – it helps in finding things on the tape.’ A pause. ‘Oh, yes. I asked about the other friends like you said, and I asked about any trouble. Now he mentioned Emma, the girlfriend, leaving and then Zeb, the boyfriend, had some sort of run-in with Joey. That’s right – I asked him if it was a fight but he said it was just Zeb throwing his weight around.’

‘Did he say whether he and Ahktar had fallen out?’

‘Denied it, found it amusing so I don’t think he was covering up.’

‘And could you tell when the memory loss began?’

‘Hard to be precise but definitely while he was still inside, before the end of the celebrations.’

‘None of the others passed out,’ I said, ‘and they were all doing drugs.’

‘Luke was drinking quite a lot too,’ she replied. ‘Extra-strong lagers.’

‘Yuk.’

I recalled my own teenage experiments with that sort of drink. Strong enough to strip paint and intoxicating enough to have me senseless after two or three and hanging over the toilet bowl. Bad news anyway, but combined with a cocktail of drugs…’

‘How was he?’ I asked. ‘I realise you have to keep things confidential, but…’

‘That’s OK. Luke and I discussed who I might talk to and what I would and wouldn’t divulge. He’s depressed and I’ve encouraged him to see the doctor there again. He’s also experiencing periods of anxiety. It’s not surprising, given the strain he’s been under. I’ve offered to do some more hypnotherapy which could help reduce the stress and give him some techniques to manage the anxiety. He’s keen so I’m going to have a word with his father about it later.’

‘Good.’

I thanked Eleanor for her time. I’d be paying her for this first visit to Luke; it was warranted as part of my investigation. Of course, it would appear on Mr Wallace’s next invoice as one of my expenses. I sorted out with her where to send her cheque and made a note for my own reference of the rate she charged. Just in case, I thought. If I had any more wobblers like the one at the baths that morning, I could consider a few sessions with Eleanor. I liked the notion of learning a bit of self-hypnosis. Could come in handy for lots of things, not just panic attacks. Those nights when the dog down the road keeps me awake, or moments when Maddie and I get locked into a spiral of argument and defiance.

‘And obviously,’ she said, ‘the sooner this can be resolved, trial or release, the better for him. He’s quite ill already and Golborne is no place to try and get better.’

So it was up to me, wasn’t it? To find enough to force them to release Luke. Sooner rather than later. Me – and his lawyer.

Chapter Twenty-One

When the bell went at the front door I waited to see if it would go again. I rarely got cold callers; most people ring and make an appointment. And any friend of the Dobsons would know not to drop in during a weekday. It rang again. I suspected it would be a doorstep seller, offering a great deal on tarmac, potatoes, lawn strimming or the latest fashion catalogue.

But it was Zeb Khan, a look of bravado on his face. My first reaction was to keep him out of the house. I hadn’t forgotten the edge of aggression he’d shown me.

‘Hello, Mr Khan.’

He glanced beyond me into the hall, back at my face. No, I wasn’t going to invite him in. ‘Can I help?’

‘About Ahktar,’ he spoke urgently, ‘I’ve been thinking about it. It’s not right, what you’re doing. Wallace killed him. You just want to whitewash it all.’ As he gained momentum he began to jab his finger at me.

‘The court will decide who’s guilty;’ I said, ‘and what evidence can be relied upon.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he demanded.

‘You saw Luke and Ahktar arguing but no one else did. Strange, that – such good mates, too. You’d think other people would have clocked it, if it had happened. And what about your row with Joey D? What was all that about?’