“Yeah. Brody Somebody. Used to be in Freya’s class in primary school a hundred years ago.”
“Her age, your age?”
Jade shrugged. “S’pose. She hasn’t seen him in ages.”
“How old was the murdered kid, anyway?” Wayne asked.
“Thirteen,” Maddie said. She turned to Jade who was climbing the stairs. “She was only thirteen, Jade. You sure her boyfriend was seventeen?”
“Seventeen or eighteen. Not sure. I’ll ask Freya.”
“What’s an older teenager doing with a thirteen year old girlfriend?” Wayne muttered.
“Good question.” And a disturbing one.
Chapter Seven
Again, Maddie found herself at the police station before work.
“The murdered child. Did you know about a boyfriend?” she asked Ethan.
“Presumed there was one, what with the pathologist’s findings,” he said. He was pulling his jacket on, ready to go out. “But the family doesn’t know about any boyfriend. We checked.”
“The kids at the school are speculating, as you can imagine,” Maddie said. “The word is there was a boyfriend, all right. The boy is older. Seventeen or eighteen.”
Ethan closed his eyes. “Damn. We’ll have to find him. He’ll never come forward voluntarily.” He bent over to grab his briefcase.
“Oh, of course. Rape. Statutory rape.” Maddie winced at how a reasonable law could have an unforeseeable impact on an investigation like this one.
Ethan sighed. “He’ll be as close-mouthed as a toddler being fed broccoli.”
She smiled. Ethan was a dad. “First name: Brody,” she said. “Or so says my source.”
“Who is…?”
“Schoolgirl gossip. Can we leave it at that?”
He ushered her out of his office and closed the door behind both of them. “And how’s that daughter of yours doing, Maddie?”
She smiled and asked him about his two little boys and whether they liked broccoli.
Maddie had to put more input into two of the Service Officer’s reports than with Agatha’s, but she was reasonably pleased with the efforts of all three. The fourth, Daniella, still was having problems grasping the concepts she was trying to teach, but the idea of Agatha and Daniella working on their next reports together went as well as could be expected. As a result, though, Agatha’s report was honed within an inch of its existence and Daniella’s was considerably better than her last one. Certainly not in the same league as the others, but requiring less input from Maddie.
Two days later, she was partially re-writing Daniella’s report in the evening when Wayne came up to her home office.
“Not still holding those little amateurs’ hands, are you?”
Maddie looked up, irritated. She was allowed to make disparaging remarks about the Service Officers, not him. “Huge improvements, Wayne. I can see the light at the end. Sometimes, anyway.”
“Come downstairs. I want you to hear the recording I made of the latest jam session. Rick and me primarily but we brought in Big Steve for background. I think we might have a sound.”
Wayne deserved some attention. She was away all day and, for the past few months, had consistently had to bring work home. His music was his life.
“Give me five minutes to finish and I’ll be down, okay? Time for you to put the kettle on?”
He looked at his watch. “I’ll drag you down if it’s more than five,” he said.
She smiled. As Jade was frequently saying, as if. Wayne was a thin man with muscles that had never done more than hold up a guitar. But he had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen on a man. And a great smile. And, most of the time, he was easy to live with.
She was downstairs in four.
The music was more cacophony than harmony to her ears. But she knew she was ignorant of the finer details of composition and choreography of music. Or was it orchestration? Anyway, she nodded and smiled and smothered her yawns.
Ethan rang her at the office the next morning. “Nobody knows any Henry Macgregor at the charity shop you said he got the suit and tie from. But it’s run by volunteers. You did say you’d found a volunteer who knew him?”
“Her name is Kathy. She’s a middle-aged lady with a large nametag on her considerable bosom saying ‘Kathy’ with a ‘K’ and a ‘y’.” She spelled it out for him “Works Thursdays, for sure. And Fridays.”
“My sergeant asked around at the shop. They didn’t seem to know much about anything.”
“Did he get the right charity shop?”
“Near the underpass?”
“That’s the one. A hospice shop.”
“He’s now trying to find one Brody Somebody, a hot tip someone gave me. Given up on the second-hand shop.”
“I’ll pop over to the charity shop later today,” she said with some alacrity. “I’d recognise her. I’ll get her to come in and make a statement.”
“Music to my ears,” he said. “Now to Brody. Still no last name? The kids have clammed up, I suspect for the same reason young Brody is not coming in to talk to us.”
“I’ll ask my source,” she said.
“You do that.”
Maddie rang off and collected her bag. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going, figuring she’d take her chances. It galled her that she’d even think of being compelled to tell someone when she left the office, something she’d felt no need to do in over a decade. And she was doubly irritated that this time she was going out on questionable probation business, and her guilt exacerbated her annoyance.
But the walk and fresh air cheered her up. Clouds alternated with sunshine enough to keep her encouraged. She could use more sunny weather.
She arrived at the charity shop to find it a hive of activity. She wandered around looking for Kathy, not finding her, and then waiting to ask one of the volunteers. In the meantime, she spotted the amber coloured necklace and held it up to the light. Either it was a very clever reproduction, or these beads were actually amber. No two beads were exactly alike and they were strung on a knotted thread, not something you often found nowadays, and never when the beads were plastic. The clasp was modern, but it could be a replacement. She fished out a two pound coin.
When she paid her money, she asked the young woman at the till if Kathy was working today.
“Hang on,” she said and rushed over to an older woman. On her return, she said, “Kathy doesn’t work here anymore. Sorry.”
“Is the lady you spoke to the supervisor?”
At her nod, Maddie walked over to her and patiently waited until she was free. “I’m looking for Kathy who normally works here Thursdays and Fridays, maybe other days as well. I saw her last Friday and I know she was working on Thursday morning last week. I need to ask her something about that day.”
“How do you know she worked that day?” the woman asked with a frown.
“She told me herself,” Maddie said. “”
“Well, I’m afraid you’re too late. She’s gone.”
“Gone? I don’t understand.”
“She’s off to South Africa. She’s always travelling. But I didn’t hear about this trip until this week. And I’ve always thought of her as one of the sensible ones.” She sighed heavily.
“I wonder if you could do me a favour,” Maddie said. “I talked to an older lady last Friday, who knows Kathy. Could you please put me in touch with her?”
“Older? With white hair?”
“Lovely wavy white hair, yes.”
“That would be Shirley. I could ask her.”
A customer interrupted with a question and Maddie realised she’d get nothing more.
But she’d spotted a list of names and telephone numbers behind the desk when she was looking at the amber necklace. A quick reference list for contacting volunteers?
She waited for the young woman at the till to become distracted and left the till unattended. And waited some more. Finally, she realised her plan was not going anywhere. Not today anyway.
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After work, Maddie took out the amber beads and held them in her hands. Warm. Where had they come from? She fastened them around her throat, loving the look of them against her skin. Just the thing to wear under her open-necked white blouse.
Jade sloped in, sleeves too long, fringe hiding her eyes. Bored expression on her face. “What’s for dinner?”
“Cold roast. Or I could heat it up in the leftover gravy. What do you fancy?”
“Pizza.” Said without a smile.
“No pizza unless you’re treating,” Maddie said easily. “Beef in hot gravy or cold with horseradish.”
“Not hungry.” She opened the fridge and grabbed out some milk.
“How about a small portion? Which one?”
Jade sighed loudly. “Can’t you just leave it, Mum? I’m not hungry.” Meanwhile, she’d pulled the instant chocolate drink powder from the cupboard and was stirring a large spoonful into her milk.
“You need some protein, Jade. For true energy. How about a beef sandwich?”
Jade pulled out the bread.
Maddie figured that was a ‘yes’.
“Any more on Brody?” she asked, without looking at her daughter.
“Nope. He’s quit school though.”
“When did that happen?”
“Dunno. Freya thinks it’s all about that kid who died.” Jade looked up, frowned at her mother’s expression. “Don’t go there, Mum.”
Maddie continued to stare at her daughter, a chill spreading throughout her body.
“Don’t you dare think what you’re thinking,” Jade said. “He’s probably just upset. You know, grieving.”
Chapter Eight
“Okay, we’ll agree grieving is a real possibility,” Maddie said. “But if he did quit school when Linsey Benton died, you can’t blame me for thinking that could be significant. And the police will want to talk to him. Probably have already.” But Jade had put earphones in and was eating her sandwich, her eyes on her phone.
Maddie sighed. Her older daughter Olivia had been an easy teen. Jade had shifted from being a bright little girl, social and enthusiastic, to this … this Goth sitting in front of her ignoring her mother; it was as if a switch had been pulled one winter’s day when she was fourteen. What should have been a few months, had been getting on for three very long years.
She sliced the beef and put it into the hot gravy while she dished up the potatoes and broccoli she’d been heating on the stove top. She set the table around Jade and called out to Wayne.
“Smells good,” Jade said, emerging from whatever she’d been listening to. “Any extra?”
Maddie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “There’s enough for you. Any veggies to go with it?”
“No, just meat and gravy, thanks.”
At least a ‘thanks’.
“That girl who died, she was at school that morning, you know,” Jade said.
“Was she?” Maddie murmured in a noncommittal response.
“Went off straight away, though. Freya says she was skiving school to meet up with Brody.”
“Was she now….”
“Was who doing what?” Wayne asked, sitting himself down for dinner.
“That dead girl,” Jade said. “She ran off that morning to meet up with her boyfriend.”
He looked at Maddie.
She raised her eyebrows. Commenting would probably close Jade down.
“Freya heard he’d been at school that morning but only for an hour or two. Wagged the rest of the week. Now he’s quit.”
“Which school?” Wayne asked.
Jade shrugged. “One of the boys’ schools in town. Kingston or Tiffins. Dunno.” She looked up to see both parents looking at her. It was as if two were too many. She stood and slouched out after neatly arranging her knife and fork on her plate.
Maddie pointed to it after Jade was safely upstairs. “Gives me a particle of hope.”
Wayne laughed.
After dinner, Maddie put a load of clothes into the washing machine. She’d asked Wayne to do it during the day, but, as so often happened, if she asked him to do something, he ‘forgot’. If he thought of it himself, she had to make a fuss about what a good thing it was. So, it meant she was always having to make a decision whether to ask him to do something or wait until it intruded on his consciousness. And suffer whatever remained undone in silent frustration.
This boy Brody, surely the police would be closely questioning him. She knew, at the back of her mind, a new suspect, a better suspect, needed to be found to divert the police attention away from Henry. Could a new suspect be Brody? He sounded like a more likely option than Henry anyway.
But would that solve Henry’s problem? Now he was in a proper prison again, things could stagnate. In circumstances like these, someone rotting in prison was out of mind, somehow. She’d known of many cases which ended up with apologies from the authorities when finally a wrongly accused, or even proven innocent person was released weeks, months even years afterwards. She was determined Henry would not be forgotten.
The phone rang.
“Madeleine? It’s Sharon speaking.”
Maddie hesitated for a split second. Then she knew. Aussie accent. Freya’s mother.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Fine,” she said in a distracted voice. “I … um, we have a great favour to ask. And if it is not convenient, just say the word. I know my Freya.” She laughed.
Maddie laughed too, but more at Sharon’s jumbled conversation than at Freya. Sharon was a sophisticated woman in high fashion, yet here she was stumbling over her words.
“Spit it out,” Maddie said. “I’ll react honestly.”
“I have to be in New York next Friday. Big meeting. Flying me over. We thought maybe ….” She faltered again.
“Freya could stay here? Is that it?”
“Could she?” The relief came pouring down the line. “Donald and I thought we could make it a romantic weekend – long weekend – in New York for just the two of us. You know, marriages need a touch of romance every now and again.” She was gabbling.
“No prob, Sharon. When are you leaving?”
“Thursday morning. We could see her off to school, then if she comes back to your place with Jade? We fly back Sunday afternoon.”
Maddie did the arithmetic. Three nights including a school day and both days of the weekend. But teenagers don’t need entertaining as such. Not these two Goths, anyway. “Have a lovely time, Sharon. And that idea of a weekend away does sound awfully enticing.”
She came off the phone in a pensive mood. When had she and Wayne had a weekend away? Never? And having Freya now would mean Sharon and Donald owed them. Ideas started to whirl around her head. A weekend to rekindle romance. It felt like more than a good idea; it felt like a necessity.
On arrival at work the next day, she found a note on her desk saying she was to go to Romania’s office as soon as she arrived. Maddie felt a fresh wave of frustration. This harassment was never ending. What had she done this time? Maybe taken longer than she was ‘allowed’ for her afternoon break when she went to the charity shop? She sighed and shoved her bag away before making a cup of tea and heading to Romania’s office.
“Come in,” she said to Maddie. “Sit.”
Maddie bit back a retort that she was not a dog. Not even a bitch. The thought brought a smile to her lips.
“Nothing to smile about, Madeleine Brooks.”
Maddie stared at her. The woman was beyond the pale. Who did she think she was, anyway? Treating professionals as if they were her own personal slaves. But Maddie was street-wise enough to keep her thoughts to herself.
“I gather you’ve been loading yet more work onto one of our Service Officers. I made a specific and totally clear directive to you that we are to lighten their load, not increase it. And you’re not stupid; you understood. So, Ms Brooks, explain yourself.”
Maddie looked at Romania and could only see an oversized Pitbull terrier. Slitty litt
le eyes staring straight through her, growling, off the leash – all the signs she was after prey.
An overwhelming surge of frustration welled up and spilled over. “I’m giving you formal notice,” Maddie said in a soft voice, “that as of right now, I plan on working to rule.” She stood up and walked out. She was vaguely aware that Romania was talking, but the intense pounding in her ears meant she couldn’t hear and she didn’t stop. She grabbed her bag from her desk and continued walking until she was in the carpark and at her car. Her hands were shaking so hard, she couldn’t work the remote key fob. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply and unclenched her hands, shoulders, jaw until finally the pounding lessened. She held her arms out. Still shaking, but not as much. She got the key into place and turned the car on. She drove the short distance to Starbucks and ordered a decaf coffee. She certainly didn’t need caffeine when feeling like this. And she shouldn’t be driving.
While drinking the coffee, letting her mind wander anywhere except work, she received a text.
Romania. She was suspended. HR would be in touch.
Chapter Nine
“What?” Wayne yelled. “What are you doing? You trying to bankrupt us right when I’ve been developing a new sound? And right when I need a new mixer to make it work? Your timing’s just great. Bloody great.”
“You’re supposed to support me, not have a meltdown yourself,” Maddie retorted. “Romania’s impossible. If I have to quit, I have to. But it’s not there yet, for heaven’s sake. She’s a child in an adult’s clothing; she’s having a temper tantrum.”
“Dammit, woman, you’re driving me crazy. Just pull your horns in, apologise. Hell, grovel, if you have to. Just make it right, okay?” With that, he stomped out of the kitchen leaving Maddie hunched over her mug of tea.
Her annoyance shrivelled, replaced with a feeling of … of blah. Blah. No energy, no interest in doing anything, not wanting to eat, not wanting to drink her cooling tea, not wanting to move. She felt a tear trickling down one cheek. She let it fall from her face and watched it splash onto one hand resting on the kitchen table.
Death in Cold Waters Page 5