Maddie searched for a non-preachy reaction. “She’ll be in trouble at home?”
Jade shrugged. “Probably not. Jenks has the hots for Donald. He basks in the attention. Probably the whole thing was an excuse for Jenks to have a cosy little chat with him.”
Maddie glanced at Wayne who was studying his forkful of food.
“Yes, well, interesting. I’m not sure you should be calling Mr Dymock ‘Donald’, though.”
“He told me to. At home, of course.” Head down again.
“What if you forget at school?”
“Come on, Mum. As if.”
Maddie took a deep breath. “My turn. Mine was a small thing too. But curious and could be important. Maybe.” She glanced at them both. And had the satisfaction of momentary, at least, glances back. “I have a client in jail right now accused of something rather horrible. But I checked and a vital part of his alibi has been corroborated.”
“Like, how?” Jade asked.
“He said he was in a second-hand shop and the person who served him remembered him well. Such a relief.”
Jade looked at her dad. “As if we don’t know what horrible crime the guy was accused of, eh, Dad?”
“Don’t have a clue,” Wayne muttered.
Jade sniffed. “The murder. Of course. The girl from Year 7 who got killed. Nothing else has happened that you’d think was horrible.”
“Don’t expect me to confirm it,” Maddie said, annoyed she’d given enough away that Jade clued in directly. “And keep your speculations to yourself, okay?”
At that Wayne’s head shot up. “Your mother’s in hot water at work. So, no blabbing. We don’t want her losing her job.”
“All right, already,” Jade said. She turned to her mother. “I actually think it’s cool you did that for him.”
“Cool. Yes, good word,” Maddie said, with a flash of affection for this difficult daughter of hers.
That evening, Maddie looked over the new introductions to the four reports. Three were acceptable and Agatha had gone on to re-write her entire report, now shrunk to almost half the size of her first attempt.
Maddie tweaked the two introductions written by the other two Service Officers using track changes so they could see clearly what she was altering and emailed them back with a ‘well done!’ and asked them to have an attempt at using the same technique for the rest of the report. She then concentrated on Agatha’s report, made a few amendments, also using track changes, and emailed it back congratulating her on this version and giving her permission to submit it. The fourth, however, was a headache.
Time was running out, so she buckled down to do the hated re-write of the report.
Once finished, she emailed, “Hi Daniella – I have rewritten your original report this time. For the next, would you please consult with Agatha before starting it? Maybe you could suggest writing your reports together. As she will tell you, court reports have to be short and concise using specific language. Good luck.”
Her theory was that Agatha was still learning and thus not so far above Daniella’s level to be daunting. But she’d have to talk to Agatha, maybe persuade her.
The next morning, Maddie had a message from Ethan that Henry Macgregor had been transferred back to prison. Wandsworth, this time. She sent an email to Henry there, telling him she would send him any news by email if she felt he needed to know anything. She ended it with, ‘Keep smiling.’ Difficult to know what to say to someone returned to prison on the basis of suspicion although, so far, no evidence. She knew not to expect an answer back. Prisoners can receive messages, not reply.
At least the transfer had been routine. Hopefully, the newlyweds were out of the country by now.
Her new determination to do what she felt was best had persisted. It still felt good.
If it got her fired, so be it.
Chapter Six
The story broke that afternoon on television news. Henry Macgregor, convicted child sex offender, had been returned to prison in light of the murder of the thirteen-year-old schoolgirl, Linsey Benton. He’d been convicted five years before of a child sexual offence but paroled recently.
The morning papers were full of it. Righteous indignation that a sex offender was released on parole. Diatribes against the system that allowed these monsters into our communities. Apparently, he lived near where the child was found. Linsey Benton was a pupil at Horscliffe, the school where he used to teach, the same school his previous victim had attended. Jade’s school. It all sounded ghastly and apparently provided a slam-dunk for his guilt.
Morning talk shows featured people’s opinions that sex offenders should have electronic bracelets so the police knew where they were at any time; should be locked up forever; should be executed; maybe hanged, drawn and quartered – always something that kept them away from the community. While driving in, Maddie listened to enough of it to renew her antipathy against populism. She turned the ignorant voices off well before she arrived. Besides, she knew she’d be questioned as soon as she got in and she had to decide how to play it.
“Did he do it?” her friend and colleague Caroline texted.
“My instinct is no, but what do I know? I’ve been wrong before.”
Several others asked as well. More were listening to the various exchanges. As expected.
Agatha was one of them. “The boss wants to see you.” Again, as expected.
“Thanks. I’ll go in as soon as I get a cup of tea.” Delaying tactics, but several of her little audience nodded. It’s what they would have done in her shoes.
“Sit down,” Romania said as Maddie walked in with her fresh cup of tea. “Explain to me every little detail about this sex offender you’ve returned to prison.”
“Starting where?”
“His offence. The original one.”
Maddie bridled inwardly but kept her face passive. She hoped so, anyway. She wanted to pick her arguments carefully with this woman, not rise to the bait willy-nilly. That was the idea, anyway.
“The child was … is Geneva Hopworth. She was twelve at the time. In her first year at secondary school. Maybe about 4:30 in the afternoon and it was dark by then. Winter. She was half way home when she realised she’d forgotten her shoes at the gym, so she retraced her steps. The school should have been locked up, but the door nearest the gym was open. She said she went into the changing rooms to find her shoes.
“Her mother arrived home by 5:15 as usual. She described Geneva as withdrawn and quiet. Didn’t eat much dinner. Watched television for a while then took herself off to bed early. These things were unusual for her daughter. In the morning, Geneva refused to go to school. She wouldn’t tell her mother why. Mother annoyed and insisted. Once there, Geneva took herself to the nurse’s office and spent the day by herself sleeping on the nurse’s cot, saying she hadn’t slept much the night before. Wouldn’t tell the nurse any specifics. When home after school, she still didn’t eat properly. At midnight, the mother found Geneva sobbing in the kitchen. Her story came tumbling out.”
Romania sighed. “Get on with it.”
“This is what happened, Romania. Do you want me to continue?”
“A little less of the sobbing child and more of what actually took place.”
Maddie took a deep breath. “Geneva said she entered the girls’ changing rooms and spotted her shoes. As she walked over to them, a naked man came out of the showers. She screamed. She said it was Mr Macgregor. Henry Macgregor. So far, the stories of both Geneva and Macgregor coincide. He was having a shower at the school before going out to dinner.”
“In the girls’ changing rooms?”
“The school was all locked up. Nobody else was there.”
“Except it wasn’t, and someone was.”
“He insisted he checked.”
“Go on,” Romania said.
“The girl wanted to leave but Macgregor wouldn’t let her. Insisted on oral sex which he proceeded to inflict on the child. Finally he let her leave after threat
ening if she told, he’d say she came onto him. And, by the way, he dropped her shoes off at the ‘lost property’ office the next day.”
“What?”
“That’s one of the strange things, yes,” Maddie said.
“DNA?”
“No. Too long afterwards. Besides, he was naked and her school uniform had been washed.”
“But he was convicted. Any witnesses?”
“A mother and her son saw a girl outside of the school. And only one car in the school carpark that was obviously Macgregor’s. They couldn’t say precisely when they saw the child and the car, but knew it was before five.”
“Nothing to corroborate Macgregor’s story?”
“He was having dinner with three friends. They all said he arrived on time, seemed to enjoy the dinner, left about ten o’clock. Was his usual social self. None of them saw anything abnormal.”
“The child was a good witness, then.” A statement, not a query.
“Geneva had detailed memories of the fellatio. In her evidentiary interview, she described how she felt she was choking. How he was holding her head. The stuff of nightmares. I guess it provided overwhelming proof to the jury.”
“What did he get?”
“Nine years.”
“A long time, longer than most.”
“I guess we all felt that. The judge was obviously disbelieving and horrified that the man was a teacher.”
“Can’t disagree, right?”
Maddie didn’t answer. She changed the subject instead. “He had an unblemished record in prison. I’ve arranged for him to volunteer teaching literacy skills to African immigrants. He’d taught illiterate prisoners while he was incarcerated. Excellent results in both places.”
“Obviously a charmer.”
“Not obviously so but he comes across as intelligent and articulate.” She drained her tea. She’d given herself until then before getting out of the office.
“Sounds like you’ve been naïve.”
Maddie shrugged and stood up. More bait. Same result: she was going to ignore it.
“And the new offence?”
“I’ll talk to the police today.”
“You haven’t already?”
“I should have said, I’ll talk to the police again today. So far, they haven’t been forthcoming.”
Romania waved her away and Maddie grabbed the opportunity before any more questions could be asked. As she left, she noticed a newspaper on the side table. If Romania had read it, she’d known as much about the current situation as Maddie did.
Once lunchtime came, Maddie walked over to the police station, the story of Henry’s old crime reverberating around her head. They had treated the case as open and shut. But those two strange things bothered her then and bothered her now: his bringing the child’s shoes into the lost property office the next day and his dinner companions insisting they had a leisurely and completely normal dinner together not long after the crime took place. Would a paedophile take his victim’s shoes to someone, a someone he knew and with whom he had an ordinary collegial relationship? Could a paedophile be so completely at ease with what he’d just done that he could enjoy dinner with close friends so soon afterwards? Maybe, if, and only if, he was a cold-blooded psychopath. Was Henry a psychopath? She’d bank her twenty years as a Probation Officer on the negative. She spotted psychopaths easily. Especially after a conversation or two. That, or she was badly losing competence in her job.
“Anything more you can tell me about the murdered child?” she asked DI de Roque. “I’ve read the papers.”
He sighed. “They have it mostly right. The child – her name is Linsey Benton and she was thirteen – was dropped off at Horscliffe by her mother. Several children saw Linsey leave again – they thought she’d forgotten something in the car. But she didn’t return. Round about noon, a family walking along the towpath a mile or so north of the school found the child’s body at the edge of the Thames, half in the water.”
“Drowned?”
“So the pathologist says.”
“Henry was preparing for a special lunch out and had a full and public morning. He attended the lunch in a suit and tie. I presume that means he’s unlikely to be of particular interest?”
He shook his head.
“Come on, Ethan. It’s me. Just spill it out, please.”
“The child drowned. But she had some bruises. A couple of them were on her face. Just where somebody’s thumbs would be if she was struggling while he was holding her head underwater.”
“Awful.” But Maddie had relaxed. “I can’t imagine Henry killing a child.”
Ethan stared at her. “The throat was bruised. Not outside. Inside. The child most likely had been involved in violent fellatio.”
She stared back at him. “More than awful,” she muttered. “And that puts Henry bang in your sights again.”
“Even more so,” he said.
“What was the time of death?”
“About ten-thirty / eleven. Estimate only.”
“That could leave Henry in the clear. He was shopping in Kingston well before ten and constantly busy with other people through mid-afternoon.”
“So he says. We’ve got people looking into it. The estimated time period is nine-thirty through eleven-thirty am.” He dropped his eyes to the papers he had on his desk. “She was dropped off at school shortly before eight-thirty. Her teacher asked if anyone knew where she was and a couple of girls told her about Linsey’s brief appearance earlier. The teacher rang the mother who got concerned and rang here. We let our people know. A car was flagged down by a distraught family a few hours later, maybe half an hour’s walk north of Horscliffe School.”
“Did she have any other injuries?”
“Scraped knees. A bruise on one arm.”
“Hate to ask, but was she raped vaginally as well?”
“No. But she wasn’t a virgin. She’d had sex recently, but not that recently.”
“Thirteen.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Maddie turned to go. She hated child murders; child sex murders doubly so. “What about DNA?” she asked at the door.
“Don’t know yet. Let’s hope.”
“Thanks for bringing me up to date,” she said. She got as far as the outside of Ethan’s office, then remembered her consternation about Henry’s mental state. “Can we find out whether Macgregor saw a psychologist when he was in prison?”
“I’ll ask. Why?”
“He doesn’t come across as psychopathic.”
“Evil comes in lots of guises,” Ethan said, tidying the papers on his desk.
“Probably, but these two crimes both smack of psychopathy.”
He shrugged.
Lawrence came in. As requested, he had showered, shaved and looked respectable in clean jeans, t-shirt and jacket.
“You coming with me?” he asked Maddie.
“I’ll take you there. They’re expecting you. But I will wait for you and run you back here afterwards. How’s that?”
He nodded, clearly nervous. “I should have gone back, shouldn’t I?”
“Probably,” Maddie answered easily. “But they are not angry at you, Lawrence. They are really pleased you are coming in for this appointment.”
“Okay.” But he sat picking at his fingernails the whole ride in.
When they arrived, Maddie sat in the waiting room while Lawrence disappeared for his appointment. Later, to her surprise, she was called in.
“Dr Singh,” the doctor said as he extended his hand to her. “I was the one who wrote to you. Thank you for bringing in Mr Reilly. He’s done amazingly well. But when I asked him what trouble he was in, he said ‘arson’ but it was ‘worse than that’. He said to bring you in to explain.”
“You tell him,” Lawrence said. “You’ll say it better than me.”
Maddie looked him in the eye. “The obsessions?”
“You can explain about them.”
Maddie did. “And when he t
old me about his head injury,” she said to Dr Singh but with a glance at Lawrence, “that provoked me to think that possibly there was something medical that could be done. And when I heard he’d been lost to you people, I was concerned. I’m very pleased you want to be still involved.”
“Definitely,” Dr Singh said. “We all do. A psychiatrist saw him back then. I can get her to examine Lawrence again.” He turned to his patient. “That all right with you?”
“Anything that can get me free from my obsessions. It’s got me into big trouble. Ruined my life.”
“And I’ll organise a neuro-psych evaluation. And an endocrinologist – we’ll need what he has to say. We had consults from many specialists along the way – I’ll put it to the team. Our Lawrence came a very long way. He must have support. We’ll all gear up once more.”
“Thank you, Dr Singh,” Maddie said. Things were set in motion. The good old NHS.
“Thank you, Mrs Brooks. I’m impressed and grateful for identifying what was needed.”
“Is that your guy?” Wayne asked when the story of Henry’s re-incarceration came on the news that evening. “He involved with the murder of the girl?”
“I hope not,” Maddie answered. “But ‘my guy’ as you call him was sent down for a similar crime. Not murder, though. And murdering a child seems way beyond anything I’d thought he could or would ever do.”
“When sex is involved, who knows what a guy can do.”
“We know his movements almost all day. I told you I met a woman who works at a charity shop who can corroborate he bought a suit, shirt and tie. He was going out to lunch later in the day. Nice lady, Kathy. She remembers him well.”
“The girls went to Horscliffe. Both of them.” Jade was standing at the doorway. “The one your guy got done for, way back when. And this new one. Everyone’s talking about it. Not that we knew the kid – she’s way younger than us. But Freya knows her boyfriend.”
Maddie swivelled to look at Jade. “A boyfriend,” she said keeping her voice neutral.
Death in Cold Waters Page 4