Death's Jest-Book Read Online Free PDF Page B

cynical? Read on!)
    So I set my mind to finding out
what it was that she wanted from me professionally and making sure
that she got it.
    There was another danger here.
You see, what she really wanted was to get a clear picture of what
made me tick. And the trouble was that this subject fascinated me
also.
    I've always known I'm not quite
the same as other people, but the precise nature of this otherness
eludes me. Is it based on an absence or a presence? Do I have
something others lack, or am I lacking in something that others
possess?
    Am I, in other words, a god among
mortals or merely a wolf among sheep?
    The temptation to let it all hang
out before her and see what her professional skills made of the
fascinating tangle was great. But the risks were greater. Suppose her
conclusion was that I was an incurable sociopath?
    So, regrettably, I felt I had to
postpone the pleasures of complete analytical honesty till such time
as I could pay for it out of my pocket rather than out of my freedom.
    Instead I devoted my energies to
letting Amaryllis find what suited us both best - that is, a slightly
fractured personality which would make an interesting paragraph in
her book.
    It was good fun. The checkable
facts about my background I was careful to leave intact. But after
that, it was creativity hour as, like Dorothy after the twister, I
stepped out of the black and white world of Kansas into the bright
bold colours of Oz. Like most of these trick cyclists, she was
fixated on my childhood and I had a great time inventing absurd
stories about my dear old dad, who actually vanished from my life so
early that I have no recollection of him whatsoever. You'll find most
of them in her book. I knew I had a talent for fiction long before I
won that short-story competition.
    Yet at the same time I was very
aware that Amaryllis was no one's fool. I had to assume she knew that
my agenda was to help myself by apparently helping her. So, as with
my chess games, I needed to play on many levels.
    It didn't take many sessions
before I began to think I was truly in control.
    Then she took me by surprise. Her
opening was to ask me, 'How do you feel about the people you hold
responsible for putting you in the Syke?'
    'Apart from myself?' I said.
    This seemed like a good answer,
but she just grinned at me as if to say, 'Come off it!'
    So I smiled back and said, 'You
mean the policemen who arrested me and built the case against me?'
    'If that's who you think
responsible,' she said.
    'I don't feel anything,' I said.
'In fact I've hardly thought about them since the trial.'
    'So revenge never enters your
mind? No little fantasies to while your nights away?'
    It was funny, I'd been feeding
her lies and half-truths for weeks, and now when I was telling her it
like it is, no prevarication whatsoever, I was getting that
disbelieving grin.
    'Read my lips,' I said
distinctly. 'Thoughts of revenge haven't broken my sleep nor troubled
my waking hours. Cross my heart. Kiss the Book. Swear on my father's
grave.'
    I meant it, every word. Still do.
    'Then how do you explain the
topic you propose for your PhD thesis?' she asked.
    This took my breath away for two
reasons.
    First, how the hell did she know
what my proposed thesis topic was?
    And second, how did I explain it?
    The Revenge Theme in the
English Drama.
    Could it be that all the time I
thought I was coolly, calmly and collectedly planning my future like
a rational man, deep down inside me some bitter scheming fury was
obsessed with thought of vengeance against you and Mr Dalziel?
    Well, since then I've had a lot
of time to think about it, and I can put my hand on my heart and
declare with complete honesty that not one thought of you or Mr
Dalziel crossed my mind as I chose my thesis topic.
    Like I said earlier, I was bored
to tears by all the sociological crap I'd had to shovel out for my
degrees. I wanted something different. I wanted something to do with
real people feeling real passion and I knew I had to