Death in Cold Waters

by Tannis Laidlaw

  “That’s right. My gym shoes. New ones. Mum would kill me if I lost them. But I thought they’d be in my locker.”

  “And the school was unlocked?”

  “The front door was locked. I walked around to the side. When teachers are there, they sometimes leave that door open because it opens on the carpark. Until the last person’s car has gone, I guess.”

  “How many cars were in the carpark?”

  “Just one. Mr Macgregor’s car.”

  “Did you know it belonged to him?”

  “Not at the time. It was in the papers. He said that car was his.”

  “That’s right,” Maddie said. “How about I keep quiet and you can tell it as it occurs to you. I won’t interrupt.”

  Geneva flashed a quick smile. “Thanks, Madeleine. Yeah, that would be great.” She turned her head gazing with unfocused eyes at people walking in the mall. Nobody paying a scrap of attention to them. “I tried the side door. It opened. It was creepy. Nobody there. Quiet. I guess because all the windows and doors were shut and nobody was around. I kind of tiptoed to my locker and opened it. It banged open. Really loud in the silence, I can tell you. Scared me. But the stupid shoes weren’t there. I stood for a moment and figured the only other place I could have left them would be the girls’ changing rooms.” She dropped her voice another notch. “I pushed open the door to the changing rooms and spotted my trainers straight away. I headed over to the bench. Then someone came out of the showers. A man.” She turned to face Maddie. “No clothes on. Mr Macgregor. He yelped and I ran.” She gulped. “Afterwards, like after he’d done it, I ran outside and straight across the carpark and didn’t stop until I got home.”

  Maddie hated interrupting, but the gap wasn’t just the rape itself. Maybe Geneva actually didn’t remember the events directly before and after the event. Too traumatic. Maddie had to interrupt. “You ran out of the changing rooms? He didn’t attack you in there?”

  “No. I wanted to hide. Thought I’d be better to disappear than to run down the corridor towards the door. He was an adult. He’d catch me.”

  She paused again.

  “So you hid. Where, Geneva?”

  “In the broom cupboard. You know, the cleaner’s room.”

  “How big is that cupboard?”

  “Bigger than a normal cupboard. It was walk-in big. Loads of shelves. Machines for polishing the floors, that sort of thing.”

  “And?”

  “He found me. Even though the lights weren’t on and it was dark. I was crouched down behind the machines. He grabbed me and choked me. I thought I was going to die. Then he did – you know. The whole time I couldn’t breathe. I was gasping. Wanted to throw up. Like totally panicked.”

  Maddie reached over and put her hand on the back of Geneva’s hand. “We don’t have to discuss what he did to you. But what about afterwards? He went away leaving you in that room?”

  “I … I guess so. He must have.” She looked up at Maddie, her face a picture of distress. “I could hardly breathe, still. I was coughing. I tried to be sick. I couldn’t get the ….” She closed her eyes and her voice dropped. “I couldn’t get off the … whatever he’d wrapped around my head. I was freaked out. Trying to breathe, trying to get that thing off my head, trying to see, trying not to be sick.” She gulped.

  “Something over your head?”

  “Something, yeah. I don’t know. A cloth. Stretchy. Something that smelled.” She brushed tears from her eyes.

  “Smelled of what?”

  “Sweet. No. Like, you know, that sort of fake pine smell, not that it smells like a Christmas tree or anything. Really strong. Some cleaning fluid probably,” Geneva said in obvious distress. “I don’t know!”

  “Should we stop, Geneva? Is this too much?”

  “No!” It came out more loudly than anything else. “No,” she said more calmly. “This is the hard part. The part that’s been bothering me. How could I know who it was? It was dark where I hid. And the only person in the school was him. Macgregor. That’s why I must have said it was him. It had to be.”

  Logic. The deduction of a frightened child. “I see why you’re unhappy when you follow the logic. Everyone says both crimes on two young girls – you and Linsey – must have been perpetrated by the same individual. One sick man. And Macgregor could not have done both.”

  “You see why I haven’t been able to sleep since I talked to you?” It was almost a wail.

  “I understand, Geneva. I absolutely know what you mean.” She tightened her hand on Geneva’s. “And now you’re mistrusting you were correct in identifying Mr Macgregor.”

  “It was him in the shower. I know it was.”

  “Yes, it was him. He said he was there. He saw you. But in the cupboard when the man disappeared and you had to get whatever it was off your head – something smelly?”

  “I honestly don’t know what it was. Probably a cleaning cloth. It was stretchy, I remember that. Pulled down like a balaclava over everything but my … my mouth. He said we were going to play a game. A fun game.” She took a shuddering breath. “He said, ‘What fun!’ like it was fun.” Not. Not one speck.”

  Maddie quickly moved on. “What else did he say?”

  “Nothing, Madeleine. Nothing. Just grunted. Not that I could hear much.” Geneva paused. “His hands were over my ears for … when … you know. That produced a loud noise – you know the kind of noise. When he left, all I heard was him going out.”

  “Going out? Him running away?”

  “No. Just the door shutting.”

  “The cupboard door.”

  “Yeah. I was panicked he’d locked me in. But he hadn’t. I waited for ages before I poked my head out. Then headed for the outside door and ran home.”

  “Mr Macgregor’s testimony was that he dressed and looked for you but you’d long gone. He said he went back to his classroom to leave the shoes and blazer he found in the changing rooms to take to the lost property in the morning and then left by the side door by the gym. I gather it was a door with a push handle so anyone could leave but not re-enter.”

  “That’s right. Same door as me.”

  “He said he then got into his car and drove off.”

  Geneva shook her head. “Something else I remember. His car was gone.”

  “From the carpark?”

  “Yeah. It was empty.”

  Maddie didn’t comment. It depended on how long she sat in the cleaner’s cupboard whether or not Henry had time to leave. But with his car gone…. “No other sounds? Just the closing of that door?”

  “Not that I remember. Actually, I’m amazed how much I remember, Madeleine. Way too much, in fact.”

  “Have you seen a trauma therapist, Geneva?”

  “A horrible lady who smelled of talcum powder. She was trying to make me talk but I was a stubborn kid, way back then.” She grinned at Maddie. The first smile in far too long.

  Maddie smiled back but her mind was running at breakneck speed. “How will you be after our coffee? I’m not a therapist and I don’t know what’s best now we both know each other’s thoughts.”

  “I’m glad we met up, Madeleine. Do I have to talk to the police?”

  “I’m not altogether sure the timing is right.” She hated that Geneva might feel brushed off. “The sales assistant needs to make her statement to the police first, I would think. Then your statement will be seen in the correct light.”

  “Will you know when that is?”

  “Yes, and the first thing I’ll do is to invite you for another coffee and you can practice what you’ll say with me. Okay?”

  Geneva’s face cleared. “Perfect.” She got up. “I’m supposed to be buying a hoodie that’s on sale. I better go and choose one so I can get home before Mum goes ballistic.”

  As she watched the young woman set off on her mission, Maddie thought Geneva’s mother must be still suffering all these years later. Or why else would she need to know what her almost twenty-year old daughter was doin
g on a Saturday morning?

  Maddie headed back to the train station. She’d just missed a train to Surbiton, so found a bench to sit on. A bit of time to figure out the timing, putting together both what Henry had told her with what Geneva had now remembered.

  It started with Henry believing he was alone in the school. But the side door was open. (Presumably Geneva had not yet arrived at the school.)

  He used a shower off the girls’ changing room.

  Geneva entered the school and immediately checked her locker – no shoes – before entering the changing room. She spotted her shoes and crossed to the bench well inside the room.

  Henry had finished his shower before Geneva got there (she did not mention the sound of a shower and was surprised by Henry’s appearance from the shower room). He must have been silently towelling off. He then walked naked into the changing room and was surprised by Geneva.

  She ran out of the changing room into the corridor. Henry did not. He presumably did not rush after her because of his naked state, so dressed first.

  While he was dressing, Geneva hid in the broom cupboard.

  The perpetrator followed her. Put a stretchy, smelly tube of cloth over Geneva’s head.

  Orally raped her. (How long would that take? The very question was nauseating.)

  Meanwhile, Henry, now fully dressed, including shoes, came out of the changing rooms and thought the child long gone.

  He walked to his classroom then retraced his steps to get to his car. He hesitated a moment by the outside door near the changing rooms before leaving the building. That’s when he heard a book drop (or a door close?). Followed by silence. (Was the noise made by Geneva? She mentioned nothing about a noise. And it was not her closing the door of the broom cupboard because Henry would have seen her. Thus the noise was made by either the perpetrator or something outside of the school. Of course, it could have occurred during the rape. Geneva would not have heard anything with his hands over her ears and the perpetrator’s attention would have been elsewhere, to say the least.)

  At one moment, Geneva was in the broom cupboard, Henry at the side door to the outside and the perpetrator either with Geneva or somewhere close by.

  Henry left by the side door and drove off to dinner with friends.

  Geneva, after the rape, hid for some time. No way to estimate.

  But when Geneva left, she noticed Henry’s car had gone.

  It could all fit, although with glaring holes in the timing.

  On the train back, Maddie switched to her other worry. Kathy. When would she come back? And, importantly, who was the man who provided her with tickets to South Africa? That was a question that should be answered.

  Maddie leaned her head back on the seat, letting the view out the window pass by without her noticing. Geneva and what she went through. Her recent ruminations about what happened. Her doubts.

  So much depended upon Kathy.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Maddie collapsed in front of her computer and made herself look through her emails. She wrote a quick reply to Olivia claiming she was having a Rest and Recreation day. Invited Olivia and her family for Sunday lunch, feeling guilty they were taking so little of her thinking time. Sent the same message by text. Glanced at the book she’d just finished which was sitting on the side table next to her chair. She needed to get it back to the library. Sighed.

  She called up YouTube on the laptop and searched on ‘house renovation’. She loved television shows that showed some genius who took a tired house and, with a bit of creative magic, transformed it into something beautiful or practical or, often, both.

  She chose a programme she had never seen, clicked on it, paused it, brought her comfy chair to the desk, repositioned the screen of her laptop and settled in to watch a house transformation in sunny Australia. A home-handyman bought an unlovely shed-like cottage in a clearing in an open woods. He fixed it up so it looked new and inviting. Now, if it had been her, she would have done things a little differently. Maybe making the south, no, north window much bigger letting the light flood inside. Or maybe building a small patio outside the back door dressed with a barbecue and an outdoor eating area with an umbrella. Not costly, but inviting potential buyers to imagine themselves there.

  In the programme, the handyman eventually sold it as a countryside retreat for almost double the original investment. Oh, how she’d love to be involved somehow. Not that she had the skills to do renos herself, but what fun to advise, then influence owners who wanted to change the market value with some innovative renovations. How could she do it? Maybe become the person who would eventually sell it, making money for the owner and a fat commission for herself?

  What training could a middle-aged woman take to learn how to sell houses? She searched on Google and found lots of sites offering courses. Some very expensive, some dirt cheap.

  Interesting.

  She shut her eyes and imagined being in such a life. Dealing with tired and broken things, not tired and broken people. Living somewhere else. Not the city, not the suburbs, but in a town or, better yet, a village. Getting to know her neighbours. Working her own hours. Living the seasons rather than noticing the weather only when it interfered. Having people over for dinner. Growing her own vegetables. Putting herself first. Her dream.

  An impossible dream.

  When she woke up, she was horrified to see the afternoon had gone. She had not even thought about dinner. She rushed downstairs to see her new weekly schedule sitting where she’d left it, prominently supported by the salt shaker and pepper grinder on the kitchen table. It gave her pause. Why should she be fussing about not having the meal on the table? Why was it always her responsibility?

  No time for change like the present.

  With a little more energy since she’d had her nap, she reached into the freezer and pulled out some sausages. She put them under warm water to defrost. She pulled lettuce, tomatoes and her homemade mayonnaise from the fridge. She grabbed bread rolls left over from mid-week. A bit stale but she knew the trick. She put them beside the sink and turned on the oven. When Wayne came in, she’d get him to light the barbecue and get on with the dinner. Her contribution would be to pass the rolls quickly under the running tap and put them immediately in the oven. By the time the sausages were cooked and the salad made, her rolls would be rejuvenated, warm and crusty.

  Under ‘Saturday’ on the schedule in Wayne’s column, she put ‘BBB sausages, salad and rolls’. She went upstairs to start another house programme on YouTube.

  It didn’t quite go according to plan.

  Jade arrived home with Freya after shopping for more t-shirts. Her excuse was that she could wear what she wanted – she and Freya were going to ceremonially burn their school uniforms once exams were finished – when she became a university student. If she became a university student with the little swot she was doing. Maddie sighed.

  Wayne, coming from his usual Saturday jam session with his musical pals, arrived shortly before six.

  “What’s for dinner?” he asked before he was into the kitchen.

  “Your turn,” Maddie called from upstairs in her home office.

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re going to share the housework and the cooking from now on,” she called.

  “A bit menopausal, are we?”

  She didn’t deign to answer that one. And she didn’t rush downstairs although she could feel her heartbeat increase in tempo. She hated confrontations with Wayne. She’d been avoiding them for decades.

  She heard Jade and Freya follow Wayne into the kitchen. When curiosity finally drove her downstairs, she found the girls cutting up the salad things and Wayne chatting to them from the barbecue.

  “Dad said Freya could stay. She’s off to New York tomorrow. That okay?”

  “His dinner. His say,” she said. “But you don’t have to make Freya work. Especially if she’ll have to pack and do stuff at home.”

  “Course she has to,” Wayne said from jus
t outside.

  The girls grinned.

  “When I’m at Freya’s, we always do the veggies, don’t we, Freya?”

  “And Dad does the meat. Sometimes barbecuing, sometimes, you know, on the cooktop or in the oven.”

  “He does the cooking?” Maddie asked as she dampened the rolls.

  “Mostly. Sometimes Mum but never at the weekend. I help him, though. Both of us do when Jade is over.”

  “I’ll freshen the rolls,” Maddie said, putting the rolls into the hot oven.

  If only it could always be like this.

  After doing the dishes (small changes, she reminded herself, no rush), in a blast of enthusiasm, she ran upstairs to sign up for an internet estate agent course. When she was asked for the credit card payment, she laughed at herself. What on earth was she doing? That’s when it all piled back on her: trouble at work, a big question mark over her marriage and her frustration at Henry’s continued incarceration. She had to do something but signing up for an internet course wasn’t it. Get through the weekend then on Monday, she’d drop in on Ethan with the relevant material from her talk with Geneva fresh in her mind. He probably wouldn’t mind sharing information about an old solved case. Maybe.

  She closed the page.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jade’s phone rang. Donald Dymock’s phone. Must be Freya using her dad’s phone. She was back in the States, not due back for another couple of weeks for her final final exam. If she came back, that is.

  “Hey, Freya!” she said into the phone. “You ringing from New York?”

  “Sorry, Jade, not Freya. It’s Donald and I’m here in England. I’ve got something to ask. You okay to talk?” He sounded a bit breathless, rushing his words.

  “No prob, Donald. How can I help?”

  “Freya has asked me to bring over her warm-weather clothes. Gave me a huge list. Any chance you know her clothes better than me?”

  Jade smiled. “Probably. Yeah, I’d know what she was talking about, anyway.” More than any father would, that’s for sure. She thought of her own father who, most likely, wouldn’t be able to identify a single item of her clothes.