“A fantastic theory? A grotesque chimera? Perhaps. Yet it is basically sound. A dream, however, which will be made into reality by others stronger than myself. I bequeath my charts and my findings to some fellow scientist who is utterly conscienceless. I find that I cannot continue.
“The opportunity offered me by the Brighton case was a godsend to me. Not many months ago I was forced to close the door of my private asylum for mental patients in the city of New York. My almost perfect record of failures to effect cures had induced in people a hesitancy to entrust their dear deranged ones to my care. Without subjects for further experimentation I was lost, and I felt I was very near to final success.
“The opportunity to accompany an aged sick man and two young people to Miami where I would be free to work with the young folks without interference was too admirable to reject.
“I will here enter into no detailed analysis of the methods by which I proceeded to transform an intelligent and normal young girl into a maniacal matricide-a prowler in the night seeking victims to satisfy the blood-lust which I have aroused in her innocent breast. These details are fully set forth in my notes and observations of her case. They can be of interest only to science.
“Suffice to say that upon arriving in Miami I immediately turned my attention to the two young people. With little time for an old man who was obviously near death I called in a local physician who has largely taken his care off my hands.
“In past experiments I have discovered that every individual possesses some latent phobia or complex, more or less well-defined, which presents a certain path toward insanity if such phobia be developed and encouraged by mental suggestion.
“Selecting Clarence first, I soon discovered in the boy an unnatural leaning toward homosexuality. Proceeding to encourage this trait and develop it, I was discouraged when he did not respond to mental stimulus as I had hoped. Naturally dull and unintelligent, his reflexes were slow and uncertain, and it soon became evident that Phyllis was the better subject for my experiment.
“By patient delving into her mental processes I soon discovered an ill-defined but positive bent toward Lesbianism plus even less developed symptoms of an Electra complex. The foundation was slight, but the subject was so perfectly normal and so sensitively attuned mentally that the desired progress was rapid.
“By careful mental suggestions, in strict accord with Freudian principles, I fast instilled in the reservoir of her subconscious the unrealized desire to do bodily harm to her mother in order to frustrate that unfortunate lady’s love for her husband. At the same time, under pretext of treating an imaginary ailment, I was able to produce periods of hypnotic influence, hypnagogic states during which the subjective mind held full sway over her actions, and from which she emerged to normal with only hazy memories of what had occurred during those drug-induced periods. These could be regulated as to duration and severity by changing the dosage.
“It was at this crucial point in my experimentation that Mrs. Brighton announced her intention of joining her family. I could not draw back. I was possessed of a frenzy to conclude my final experiment by determining whether I could wholly control the girl’s reaction to her mother’s presence.
“It was on the very eve of Mrs. Brighton’s arrival when I began to doubt myself. My treatments had been so successful that I found the girl responding strongly to the slightest stimulus of either drug or mental suggestion. She wavered, in fact, upon the very shadow-line of mania.
“Fearing that I might have miscalculated the effect which would be produced by her mother’s arrival, I went to a Mr. Shayne in Miami. He had been recommended to me as a discreet and able private detective. I cautiously explained as much of the situation to him as seemed wise, and he agreed to protect the mother from any possible tragic consequences.
“I returned much relieved after the interview. Mr. Shayne had been not unduly curious and he impressed me as being an exceedingly capable man. Mrs. Brighton arrived, and the girl greeted her with a queer admixture of loathing and love, while I observed her, closely, taking notes for making out a behavior pattern.
“The situation became intensified during the course of dinner. Phyllis was cross and unruly. I experienced a strangely creative joy as I looked on. I felt impersonal, Godlike. I felt as a master musician must feel as he draws forth beautiful harmonies or crashing discords from a delicately attuned instrument. Phyllis Brighton was my instrument. My will was her master. Yet, everything might have gone well had I not yielded to the temptation to make the supreme test.
“I had to know whether I could force the girl to murder her mother, and whether I could then bring her mind back to rational functioning.
“I do not expect to be understood or forgiven. It was madness. Deliberate, coldly conceived murder. I had to know. What mattered the life of one foolish woman against the exquisite joy of knowing complete success? I drew Phyllis aside after dinner and whispered in her ear. I prepared a carefully calculated dosage of the drug and instructed her to take it half an hour later. She walked from me somnolently, climbing the stairs to her room. I went into the library to await Mr. Shayne and to know the outcome of my dread experiment.
“The world knows the outcome. The girl escaped from me before I had an opportunity to determine whether I could restore her sanity after the dreadful deed. Tonight she is roaming the streets with a small automatic pistol in her hand-hopelessly deranged-responding to the murderous impulses for which I alone am responsible-so help me God.
“The thing that was once Phyllis Brighton has struck again tonight. She will kill again and again until she is destroyed. Like Frankenstein, I have created a monster beyond my power to control. When the lifeless body of Charlotte Hunt was carried into the house tonight I realized to the fullest extent what a horrible menace I have loosed upon this community.
“I repeat that I do not seek to exculpate myself. I shall atone in the only manner left to me. Before my own conscience and before God I am guilty of what may well go upon the records as the most heinous crime of this century.
“Phyllis Brighton must be hunted down and destroyed ruthlessly, and for that I must pass sentence upon myself. I go now to answer to God for what I have done.
“JOEL PEDIQUE”
Michael Shayne drew in a great breath of the fresh air flowing in through the open window as he read the concluding words and laid the sheets of paper aside. It seemed to him that he had not breathed since reading the first words. He was surprised to look up and see the bright sunlight outside. With the words of Pedique’s confession still ringing in his mind it had seemed to him that the room was full of darkness.
The quiet of the death chamber was abruptly shattered by the wail of a rapidly approaching police siren. Shayne lit a cigarette and leaned toward the window where he could look down on the curving driveway in front of the house. A police car ground to a stop as he watched. Peter Painter was the first figure to get out. Shayne drew back from the window as the detective chief hurried up the front steps. He lit a match and applied the flame to Dr. Joel Pedique’s confession. The notepaper crackled, and the flames spread rapidly as Shayne crumpled up the sheets and fed them to the fire.
The last bit of the document was reduced to ashes as Painter burst into the room.