She sat there a long time.
After a disturbed night, the next morning Maddie dragged herself downstairs to make a phone call to Human Relations at work. She told the HR officer what had happened without emotion, as if giving a report on a client.
“There are procedures,” the woman said calmly. “Your immediate boss – what is her name again?”
“Romania Carlisle. Kingston.”
“Sorry, I’m not familiar with her.”
“Newly appointed. And you’d better know that I was an unsuccessful applicant for that position.”
A silence.
“Okay. Procedures,” the woman continued. “You contact Carlisle’s boss. She’ll tell you to come in for an interview. And, a word to the wise, if you belong to the union, you should contact them straight away and put them in the picture.” She paused again. “You are obviously a senior person without having anything like this in your past … or I’d be familiar with your name. So, again, another word to the wise, write up a complete report ready for your boss’s boss. Do you want me to look up who that is?”
“No need. She’s Bettina Rossmoor. I know her.”
“Do you know her personally?”
“Enough to nod to in the lift. That sort of thing.”
“Start with the union.”
Maddie thanked her and rang off.
A procedure. The big question: was the procedure written to redress the power differential, or to bolster a manager’s power? In her present state of mind, she guessed it would be the latter.
Two cups of tea later, she rang the union. She’d paid her dues forever and never once had the occasion to ask for help until now. The thought churned her stomach.
The call was short. Neutral male voice, a low rumble. Maddie couldn’t guess his age except not old. Contact Bettina Rossmoor. Make an appointment for next week. Let him know when. If he couldn’t make the time agreed, she’d have to go back to Rossmoor for a new appointment. She was not, in any circumstances, to be persuaded to exclude the union. He was to be involved at all stages. Short and simple. But it relieved Maddie of a burden she didn’t know she was carrying.
Might as well get on with it. She rang, had a short conversation with Rossmoor’s secretary, made the appointment for Wednesday morning and rang the union rep with the time and date. All okay. Done.
She sat for a long moment, phone still in hand. Suddenly, she had nothing to do for several days. Its emptiness appalled her.
One more thing. Lawrence Reilly. She couldn’t let him slip between the cracks again. She rang work, asked for Erin.
“Maddie. I’ve heard you’ve been suspended. Awful and so unfair. Are you okay?”
“A bit stunned, to tell the truth,” Maddie said. “I left in such a hurry, I hadn’t time to talk to you about Lawrence.”
“Romania gave me the envelope. She was buzzing like an angry wasp, I can tell you, because she found some papers in your desk you hadn’t told her about. I just said I knew about them and was expecting them.”
“Thanks, Erin. Appreciate it.” She told her about what had happened at the hospital.
“I gathered that. I rang the neurologist who sent his commiserations, by the way. Praised you to the heavens and wants to let your boss know. I said, write a letter.”
“Not a bad time to get an appreciation letter, is it?”
“That’s what I was thinking. Anyway, he has started Lawrence on some testosterone suppression medication to see if that helps.”
“Fingers crossed,” Maddie said.
After that, a cheese sandwich and a Granny Smith apple, she viewed life with a less jaundiced mind-set. She had things she wanted to do and now nobody to say she couldn’t. It all came down to priorities. And sticking with her resolve of doing what she thought best.
Big Problem Number One: Henry, buried in prison.
And she was no longer his Probation Officer. And she knew nobody else would look after his back.
She needed to keep focussed. Reminded herself she now had the time for things she had only been able to accomplish around the demands of her job.
First priority for Big Problem Number One: get in touch with the elusive Kathy.
Maddie pretended to be interested in the revolving glass cabinet of jewellery where she’d first spotted her amber necklace. Not all that many people in the shop. Eventually, the woman behind the till, deep in a conversation, stepped away from the desk towards the person she was talking to. Instead of turning the cabinet, Maddie walked around it, as she’d done the week before until realising the cabinet revolved. Eyes firmly on a display of ancient watches, she hunkered down. Yes, the list she remembered was taped to the inner side wall of the desk. She spotted both the names ‘Shirley’ and ‘Kathy’; both had telephone numbers attached. Both she committed to memory.
Maddie pretended to fumble her handbag, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter. She knelt down to reassemble it, grabbing her notepad and scribbling the two numbers down before standing up. Her memory was only so good.
Once outside the shop, she called Kathy’s number. It rang then went into voice mail with Kathy’s cheerful voice requesting a message. She dutifully left one requesting she got in touch with DI de Roque to clarify Henry’s purchase of the suit and tie on the day of his daughter’s lunch; tell de Roque the time he was in the shop, if she remembered clearly.
The next phone number was for Shirley, and she recognised the voice immediately the call was answered. She explained how she needed to get in touch with Kathy. They had a cordial exchange of recalling the Friday when they’d met.
“Are you anywhere close to the charity shop, Shirley?”
“Five minutes away. Why?”
“I was just going to spoil myself with coffee and a muffin at the café opposite. Would you like to join me? My treat.”
Soon the two of them were in easy chairs sitting in the bay window. Shirley, it turned out, was a fount of information.
“First, do you remember a man who bought a suit, shirt and tie on Thursday of last week? Thursday morning. Kathy helped him.”
Shirley blew on the top of her coffee. “Not particularly. Any other clues?”
“He’s middle height. Middle aged.” She became aware of how generic Henry’s outward appearance was. “Not fat, but certainly not slim. Slightly pudgy, I guess. Receding hairline. Hair going grey. A ready smile.”
Shirley shook her head. “Describes half of our male customers.” She took a delicate sip of her coffee. “Maybe not always the ready smile.”
“No worries. He is rather generic looking, I guess. He was wearing dark trousers with a long sleeved dark green t-shirt under a zippered navy blue jacket. When he left, he was in the suit, shirt and tie he’d just purchased and the other clothes were left under the counter at the till. I picked them up for him on the Friday.”
“I remember some clothes with a note pinned to them that they’d be picked up. Not the man, sorry.”
“Okay, what about Kathy? The supervisor at the shop was surprised she’d gone on a trip without advance notice.”
Shirley’s eyes brightened. “I know. Amazing. Our Kathy does like her trips, but she’s never gone as far as South Africa before. I can tell you one thing though, she’s known forever she had an ancestor or two that went out there almost two hundred years ago. She’s really excited to have the opportunity to fill in the missing bits in her genealogy charts.”
“So, she’s into genealogy.”
“Chair of the Kingston chapter. Has been for ages. Only last week she gave us a lecture about what to do when gaps are found in the records and what can be done about it. Mentioned the South African connection; that’s why I know about it. Are you interested in tracking your ancestors?”
Maddie smiled. “I guess everyone wonders where they’ve come from. But I have no knowledge beyond my great-grandparents. Maybe some day. It sounds like a fun hobby.”
“You’ll have to join our society. I’m always getting re
ally good hints from other members.”
Where had she heard about the Genealogy Society before? Yes, of course. It was Henry. He’d planned on joining.
“Back to Kathy,” Maddie said. “She suddenly found some missing ancestors in South Africa?”
“Not suddenly. But she had some ideas for tracking them down which she shared with us at our last meeting. Someone at the meeting offered her the opportunity to carry it through.”
“How?”
“A few days later, she got a call from a distant cousin she didn’t know she had. From South Africa, visiting his daughter here in London, trying to persuade the young woman to go home, but, I gather the daughter wasn’t having any. The fellow heard Kathy’s talk and contacted her. His name is Milhousen. Like Kathy’s but with an extra ‘n’ at the end. Said his daughter wasn’t going to use the ticket back to South Africa he’d already bought. If Kathy wanted it, it was hers.”
“What marvellous luck,” Maddie said with genuine enthusiasm.
“She’d be on her own there, as Mr Milhousen was staying in London to see if he could put some more pressure on the daughter. Something about the daughter and an unsuitable young man. The usual story.”
“Kathy took advantage of the offer?”
“And how! She took only a couple of hours to pack, madly ringing around cancelling stuff. Getting me to look after her cat. Excited as a child going to the circus for the first time. She said this was a massive opportunity to complete her genealogy searches, funded by a distant relative she didn’t even know from South Africa.”
“Amazing.” Maddie sat back, staring out the window at the passing foot traffic. On reflection, just a bit too amazing, somehow, but that was her cynical nature coming out, honed by too many years as a Probation Officer. Or was it just her dark mood returning? “Tell me a bit about her. Does she do this sort of thing often?”
“Someone gives her a free plane ticket? Hardly. She’s a retired kindergarten teacher. Lived at home looking after her elderly mother for far too long. Then inherited the house, sold it, moved into a flat near me and quit her job. She’s been living quietly ever since – punctuated by trips all over the country – and enjoying every minute of searching for ancestors and distant cousins. She’s a real enthusiast. Loves talking about it to everybody she meets.” Shirley finished the last of her muffin and dabbed at her lips carefully with the paper serviette.
Maddie sat silently going over the story. A wonderful opportunity for Kathy, for sure. She sighed. “Back to my problem. Are there any records that will show someone purchased a man’s suit last week on Thursday?”
Shirley shook her head. “No. We just record the money we take in. No details. Sorry.”
“Can you remember which day you saw the clothes with the note?”
“Let’s see. Thursday or Friday, I guess.”
They parted with thanks each to the other and genuine smiles.
Once walking back to her car Maddie asked herself, just who is this Milhousen character who has money to spare that he gifts a flight to South Africa to someone he’s just met?
Once home, Maddie found herself staring at her cell phone. She sighed and picked it up. Put it down. Came to a decision. She positioned the cell phone against her mug and took a photo. A small adjustment, another photo. Yes. She grabbed her landline and dialled Romania, reached over to the cell phone and started a video recording. Of course, it wouldn’t record Romania but it would record her own words and, maybe importantly – who knew? – her facial expressions. All perfectly legal.
“Romania?” she asked, then identified herself.
“How dare you!” The words were spat into the phone.
“How dare I what?” Maddie asked, non-plussed.
“Going above my head. You are a sneaky, manipulative, calculating schemer, Madeleine Brooks. No wonder they wanted me, not you, in this position.”
“I’m sorry you find me sneaky and manipulative. And a calculating schemer, Romania. You told me to contact HR. I did contact them. They advised me on the proper protocol. Check with them.”
“You went above my head!” Her voice had risen in both tone and volume.
“My seeing your boss is the protocol. Nothing to do with me. I only went above your head, as you put it, because I was told to. By HR.” She took a deep breath. “But it doesn’t have to come to this….”
“You have no idea the consequences of your actions. And if you think you’ll get away scot free, you have another think coming.”
“How about we meet somewhere neutral? Over a drink, perhaps, and we can….”
“No bloody way will you get me….” The phone went blank.
Romania had rung off.
Maddie took another deep breath. “We’re both professionals, Romania,” she said into the empty phone. “We are adult women, highly educated in our chosen profession, successful, even, but with a difference of opinion. I’ve dealt with Service Officers for years and I’m sure you have too.” She let a small pause stretch for a count of three. “I know. Perhaps part of the problem is I’ve had only one boss since I started here in Kingston almost twenty years ago. We undoubtedly developed a certain way of handling problems here. But nothing is set in stone. If we – the two of us – can just sit down….” She paused again, letting a frown crease her forehead. “Romania? Are you there? Romania?” She lowered the phone and pressed the red end button and looked at the cell phone recording her face and actions. “She rang off.” She paused, looking down at the landline receiver before reaching over and turning off the recording.
She played it back. Nothing but the occasional unintelligible squawk from Romania’s end. And the last bit took an additional 21 seconds only. That should be okay. She saved it onto her laptop and again onto a memory stick which she threw behind the insert in her cutlery drawer. Just in case.
Funny how predictable people can be when in the grip of emotion. For the first time in weeks, she felt a surge of confidence.
Chapter Ten
Jade sighed heavily. Her mother could be so unimaginative at times. So by-the-book. It really surprised her to find she was threatening to quit her job. And Dad was being a prick. As usual.
They were in the kitchen, each making their own breakfast. She’d poured herself some Coco Pops, as few as possible, but enough to avoid yet another argument when she didn’t want to eat before school.
“What’s up today?” her mother asked.
Jade shrugged. “The usual.”
“Have you thought of anything more about Brody … what was his last name again?”
Jade knew full well she’d never given her mother Brody’s last name. “Nothing,” she said. She noticed her mother’s strained face and her heart relented. “I can ask around,” she said.
“That would be….” Her mother stopped. Shook her head. “Actually, maybe it’s best you let sleeping dogs.”
“Don’t fuss, Mum. I’m not going to talk to anybody but my own friends, okay?”
Her mother frowned. “Still, word can get out. And we’re talking about a murder. No, I think we’d better forget I brought it up.”
Jade left for school determined she would not let it go. For heaven’s sake, nobody could find out anything other than someone at school. The kids had all gone onto protection mode about Brody. But what if he really had murdered Linsey?
The opportunity came at morning break when Freya told Kim and some of their other friends that Brody had wagged school since Linsey died and had now left. He was working mowing lawns with his older brother.
“I’m not sure about him,” Kim said. “He can be dangerous.”
The other girls turned towards her. Kim was quiet. A pretty girl but small and studious. Jade had always liked her. They’d known each other for years. Still going to their school even though Kim and her family now lived outside of Esher somewhere.
“Yeah?” Jade said. “What kind of dangerous?”
“When he’s drinking, he can be … you know.”
Her voice faded and she looked down.
“Sex?” Jade asked. “Did he come onto you?”
Kim blushed. “Yes. No. Actually teasing. That’s what it was. Teasing.”
“Come on, Kim. Out with it,” Freya said.
Jade had always thought Freya was just a little jealous that Kim and Jade had been friends forever.
Kim’s colour deepened. “Maybe it was nothing. I don’t know… but it makes me sick to the stomach thinking about it, that’s all.”
“Better out than in,” Jade said, immensely curious that something had happened to Kim that she had not discussed with her in private. “If you want, that is. Only if you want to, Kim.”
Kim looked at Jade. “You remember that party we went to in Oxshott woods?”
Jade nodded. Last summer. They were supposed to be at the flicks but instead piled into a couple of cars and headed out of town. Accompanying them were several large bottles of homebrewed beer one of the boys had discovered in his attic. Years old and it tasted like it, but lots of people drank it anyway. Sick to her stomach? Probably that awful beer.
“He dropped his trou. His friends were all shouting and egging him on. His thing was all … big and red. He shoved it into my face.”
“Yetch,” Freya said. “What did you do?”
“Smacked it away,” she said. “Hit it, actually, with my fist. Didn’t want to touch it with my fingers.”
“Should have punched him in the goolies,” one of the other girls said.
“Hitting his willy would’ve done the job,” Jade said loyally. She burst into laughter. “Good on you, Kim! God, I’d love to have seen it!”
“Oh, for a selfie of that!” shouted Freya. “Good one, Kim.”
“I sure wish you guys had been there then,” she said with a growing smile.
“I bet it hurt like crazy,” Jade said with delight. “And I’m not talking about his silly willy. I’m talking about where it really hurts – his ego!”
Death in Cold Waters Page 6