Jade.
“You got to Kim’s all right?” Maddie asked, fearful she’d been diverted from her usual slight worrying, and something had gone wrong.
“Yeah. Kim’s mum picked us up. We’ve had some study time already and a swim in their pool. Pizza for dinner. Everything is fine, Mum. Are you okay? You sound a bit funny.”
“Fine, Jade. I’m in the kitchen and your father’s watching television. As usual.” She was pleased her voice came out naturally, finally.
“Right. Well, I just thought you’d like to know Kim texted Freya. It’s early afternoon over there. And Freya rang back.”
Maddie’s heart thudded. “And?” she asked.
“And Kim told her that her father had come onto me. I wasn’t there, Mum. I was in the kitchen helping with the dishes and talking to Mrs. Hogan. Kim had excused herself after dinner. When she came back after, oh, maybe twenty minutes, she told us what had happened. It wasn’t me doing anything, honest.”
Maddie realised Jade thought her mother would assume she’d orchestrated it. But she knew Jade well enough. Things were so delicate with the police, Dymock and the two of them being so involved with his arrest, Jade would understand she’d have to stay well away from stirring up the pot.
“I know you wouldn’t, Jade,” Maddie said. “But tell me what happened before I travel down this phone line and shake it out of you!”
Jade laughed her relieved laugh and Maddie relaxed.
“Kim had thought about us not knowing other girls had been targeted by Donald. Nobody at school wanted to tell us. Mostly, nobody wanted to tell Freya about her father. So, Kim decided Freya needed to know everything and right now before someone else told her. Like the police. Or, worse, her mother. Otherwise, she’d be super furious at us.”
“There’s some wisdom in that, I suppose,” Maddie said. “But difficult to do.”
“I sure wouldn’t want to do it. But Kim’s shy but brave, you know?”
Maddie wouldn’t call Kim shy. More self-possessed and quiet. Mature for seventeen.
“She told Freya that not only did her father come onto me, but several other girls, too. And for some, way worse. Like, they’re all now discussing maybe it was him who’d done it to Geneva then got to like it.”
Maddie shivered. Teenaged girls, figuring things out for themselves. But not talking to any adults about it because the subject was taboo.
And whose fault was that?
“Poor Freya,” Maddie said. “It must have been very difficult for her.”
“When Kim told me, I texted Freya saying if she wanted to talk, to just ring.”
“Has she?”
“No. But she’ll have to sort things out inside her head, I bet. Before she rings.” Her voice dropped. “Or decides not to ring.”
“And we have to respect that, “Maddie said in an equally soft voice. “You okay?”
“Yes. Fine. But all we can talk about is bloody Donald.”
“Does Mrs Hogan know?”
“Yeah. We told her. She’s horrified, of course. But not going crazy about it. She’s okay.”
“Try to get some studying in, Jade. That’s why you’re there.”
“Will do.”
After saying she’d see Jade when she got home tomorrow after school, Maddie went upstairs. She had no desire to bring Wayne up to date on the latest.
The next morning, she dithered about informing Ethan. But he rang before she could decide.
“I’ve just had a telephone call I know you’ll be interested in,” Ethan said.
“Go on,” she said. Interesting enough to ring? She was listening with all ears. “Who from?”
“The principal of Horscliffe. Suddenly, he’s all informative.”
“Like he wasn’t before?”
“Like he definitely wasn’t before.” He drew a long breath. “Seems our Mr Gym Teacher was the subject of a parental complaint a wee while ago. Inappropriate suggestions to a schoolgirl.”
“And the principal hadn’t said anything about it when you questioned him after Linsey’s murder?” Maddie was aghast.
“He says he put it down to a schoolgirl’s fantasy. But I have a feeling this wasn’t the first.”
“Come on, Ethan. Why?”
“Because he put Dymock on notice – extra supervision, that sort of thing. More importantly, gave him some friendly advice to start looking for a new position, meaning ‘resign or I fire you’ in anybody’s language. It doesn’t fit. If this was the first complaint and the principal dismissed it as an adolescent crush, why threaten the guy’s job? So not the first complaint. Covering his arse. But the most interesting part of all is the date. Tell me, Maddie. When did this happen?”
“No,” she breathed. “Really? Damn him to hell. Actually, both of them.”
“Yes,” he said, no teasing in his voice at all now. “Indulge me, Maddie. When?”
“The day Linsey Benton was killed. Of course.” Dymock’s lifestyle threatened. More than threatened. Finished. At least in this country. “He would have been spiralling out of control. Bottled up fury. Ready to explode.”
“And took it out on a young schoolgirl,” he said. “I knew you’d put it together. We’re a good team, Madeleine Brooks. Don’t you dare quit your job.”
“Yes, well…”
He barked a laugh. “There’s more. I must thank your daughter, too.”
“About which part of this increasingly involved story?” Maddie raised her eyebrows even though Ethan couldn’t see her.
“The part about nicking Dymock’s phone.”
“You found the call he made to her?”
“Yes, that. But something a bit more important. And an explanation about why his response to her nicking his phone was so over the top.”
“Come on, Ethan. Spill.”
“He’d taken photos through some sort of peephole into the girls’ changing rooms at the gym. Some were still on his phone.”
“The sleazebag!” OTT? Certainly was, and then some. Threatening to kill her by throwing her over the bannister? More than a sleazebag. Beneath contempt. A monster.
“And he likes the little girls. The eleven and twelve-year-olds. Most of the photos were of pre-pubescent kids.” He sighed. “Also, I think your daughter has been busy again,” he said.
“The international phone call?”
“Calls,” he said.
“Not Jade this time. One of her friends, though.” She paused. “Did you say ‘calls’, plural?”
“I did. Donald Dymock received a call from Freya. His daughter in New York.”
“Did he now….”
“Apparently someone called his daughter. Gave her the dirt about her father and her friends. She called him. And I can tell you, he came off that call in a bad state. He then rang his lawyer who dutifully came in. Dymock wanted to make a new statement.”
“You’re drawing this out, Ethan,” Maddie said.
He chuckled. “Guilty. And so is that pervert. We’ve got the bastard, Maddie. He admitted it all. Every last bit including selling those kiddie pics on the dark web. And he confessed to the rape of Geneva Hopworth all those years ago.”
“Really?”
“Really. He was distraught by the daughter’s phone call. And his lawyer’s advice was that it was all coming out, so getting it all done and dusted early would act in his favour.”
“He’ll get life?”
“Possibly. Probably. The only question will be how long the non-parole period will be.”
Maddie came off the phone and felt a relieved grin spread across her face. A confession. Jade wouldn’t have to testify. Henry would get his conviction quashed. Geneva wouldn’t have to relive it all in front of the world.
Sometimes, good things happen.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Maddie had agreed to go back to work. Against Caroline’s advice and Jade’s too. But Wayne, as expected, was all for it. She had agonised over her decision and had no illusions about how
Romania would treat her. But with the Wayne situation being so delicate, Maddie had to be practical. One major problem at a time, and first in the queue was family. She had to stabilise things for Jade who had been too involved for any student in the midst of exams. And who didn’t need any major changes in her life.
And Maddie had to discover whether or not she still had a marriage in spite of Wayne’s avowal to break it off with the ‘lonely’ singer. As a consequence, Maddie was due to start back at the Probation Service on Monday. Thank heavens she had today for Henry.
She arrived first. It was a gracious room with views out over the Thames featuring rowers practising for some race or other, slow moving riverboats with potted gardens on their roofs and motorboats buzzing in the sparkling sunshine. London at its best.
She had chosen quite deliberately to have a formal afternoon tea to celebrate Henry’s release from prison. It was primarily a treat for a friend. But also a chance for Henry to wear his good gear again out in public, the gear purchased in his favourite charity shop that fateful day.
When she spotted him, he looked every inch the gentleman that he really was. And had always been.
He walked over to their table and sat down. “Maddie, my dear, you look lovely.”
She stifled her honest response that she’d had this dress forever and said, simply, “Thank you, my friend. It’s not often we have a chance to dress up.”
“Weddings, funerals and afternoon teas,” he said with a smile.
“Nice shoes,” she said. “Have I seen them before?”
“Yes. That day I was thrown back in prison,” he said. “Suitable for this outfit; suitable for my luncheon with my daughter and now afternoon tea with you. Old shoes but my shoes tend to last forever. All good shoes do. My one vanity; I always used to spend decent money on my footwear – you’ve noticed my Ecco casual shoes before – and they, and these shoes as well, date from long before I was arrested all those years ago.”
“Which type did you wear to school?” Maddie kept her voice casual.
“These ones. Nothing like footsteps in the schoolroom to focus attention onto the work the pupils were supposed to be doing. Slowly approaching footsteps, an unspoken sign of authority, if you will. Always jacket and tie. My working uniform.”
With Dymock’s confession Maddie knew it, but she still felt relieved at the confirmation of her assumptions about his shoes.
The waitress brought a silver tower of tiny sandwiches and placed it on their table. Another waitress came with a teapot and cups and saucers on a trolley, complete with sugar cubes, miniscule tongs and milk in a white porcelain jug matching their teacups.
“Have you heard from DI de Roche?” Maddie asked as she put several of the savoury sandwiches onto her plate.
“Yesterday. He’s promised to do all he can. Now Kathy is back and has made her statement about my buying the clothes that critical morning, he’s all smiles. Did you know she picked Dymock out of a line-up as the ‘South African’ Milhousen who financed her trip?”
“Did she now,” Maddie said. “So the gift of the plane ticket really was all about getting her away. To give Dymock time enough to remove himself from England, I suppose. I wonder if he really did have that job in the fancy school in New York.”
“As a confirmed paedophile, I bet he does. Or, if not there, somewhere else with young girls.” He sipped his tea in its delicate cup. “I learned quite a bit about paedophiles while away. I was unfortunately included in their select little group. And we needed to band together. My fellow cons were hard on paedophiles. We were the lowest of the low.”
Maddie didn’t reply, just lifted her cup in a silent salute to what he’d been through.
“My case is now officially an application for a ‘miscarriage of justice’ and it’s been referred to the Criminal Cases Review Commission.”
“Good,” Maddie said. “So Dymock’s confession is holding water. Thank goodness he confessed to the rape as well as the murder.”
“All due to those teenaged girls. I particularly would like us to acknowledge young Geneva Hopworth. What a brave young woman. It takes a lot to admit you misled the police. And was responsible for my incarceration. The wrong man sent to prison. But it makes sense: she was a frightened twelve-year-old child and I was the only man she saw.”
Maddie heard the tone of his voice. Not a scrap of anger or vindictiveness. “I have to warn you that the Commission takes ages, Henry. They are quite overwhelmed with cases, I gather. But they should refer you to the Appeal Court in the end, all going well. And, by that time, Dymock’s trial and sentencing will be well over. It should be okay.”
“And, during all of it, I’m not in prison.” He said it in a heartfelt way. “I don’t mind being on parole for however long it takes. Although I wish it could be with you, Maddie.” He paused. “But we are friends and we can sneak off for the occasional cup of coffee, perhaps.”
She nodded and raised her teacup.
“To friendship,” she said.
The End
Thanks for reading this first book in the Madeleine Brooks Mystery series. I do want this book to be successful and I cannot do it without help ... help from other people to point out any blind spots that I've missed and to give me feedback on what I have here.
Second, if you like Death in Cold Waters, I'd love you to write a review which needn’t be long or complex, just an honest opinion. I’d appreciate it and other readers would as well. Please contact me when you do so and I will send you a free, in appreciation, copy of the second book in the Madeleine Brooks Mystery series, Death at Cherry Tree Manor which is scheduled for publication soon.
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Other Books by Tannis Laidlaw
E-book novels:
Bye Baby Bunting (also in paperback)
The Pumpkin Eater's Wife
Half Truths and Whole Lies
Thursday's Child
Non-fiction:
Full Stop: eat until you're full and stop gaining weight
Soon to be published in the Madeleine Brooks Mystery series:
Book 2: Death at Cherry Tree Manor
Book 3: Death at Valley View Cottage
Would you like a little book of short short stories as a free gift, me to you?
The ‘Snoop’
and other short short stories
Small, hard-hitting tales with twists
and turns
and curly endings
Click here:
Send me my free ebook !
https://mailchi.mp/8c96ecf1c53f/free-ebook-of-short-stories
About Tannis Laidlaw
Tannis Laidlaw - author of histories, mysteries and other fiction.
Tannis Laidlaw writes mostly fiction – well-researched psychological crime books: thrillers, suspense or mysteries - utilising her background as a research and clinical psychologist (and, yes, she did work for Probation at one time). She has four stand-alone novels available, this new mystery series featuring Madeleine Brooks, plus two collections of short stories.
Most of the time Tannis lives with her husband in New Zealand alternating between Auckland and an adobe house high above an isolated beach in Northland. Whenever they can, they also spend time each year off the grid on a remote lake in the Canadian wilderness in NW Ontario. All are wonderful places for writing.
Her website is www.TannisLaidlaw.com
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