Maggie: a gripping psychological thriller

by Netta Newbound

  Unable to face what was going on outside, I rushed upstairs to peer from my bedroom window. My pulse hammered at the sides of my head as I pulled the curtain back. My nerves had been so tightly wound recently; I knew it wouldn’t take much for me to have a meltdown.

  Two large, moon-faced women were standing in front of Claudia, their hands on their hips. I realised they were Kenny’s sisters.

  “First, she murders our baby brother in cold blood, and then, she steals his property,” the larger woman, with wavy brown hair, said.

  “I think you need to get back in your fancy car and piss off!” Claudia said. “I was a good friend of Emily’s, and she told me all about you two.”

  “That trollop didn’t even know us. What did she say?”

  I grabbed my phone. If they didn’t leave soon, I would call the police.

  “She didn’t need to know you. Why would she want to when your own brother couldn’t stand the sight of you?”

  The other woman, who’d been standing quietly, stepped forward and grabbed at her sister’s arm. “Leave it, Vee. It’s not worth getting into a slanging match over.”

  “Listen to your sister and go! You’re not welcome around here.” Claudia was just out of view, but I saw her hand rise up and point up the street. For such a gentle and caring woman, she certainly could turn on the terror when she wanted to.

  The women made their way to the car, both scowling. They clambered their oversized backsides inside and sped off.

  I slumped down on my bed and began breathing again.

  “All clear, duck!” Claudia called up the stairs.

  I forced myself upright on shaky legs and trudged down to meet her.

  “Cheeky bloody bitches,” she ranted as I entered the kitchen.

  “You were fantastic. Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you!” I grinned, my entire body trembling.

  “I don’t make a habit of behaving like a fishwife, but they asked for it.”

  “I’m glad Mum had told you all about them. Nasty bitches.”

  Claudia shook her head. “Ah, but she didn’t. I wouldn’t have wasted my time talking about the likes of them.”

  “Then how…?” I cocked a thumb towards the street.

  “I guessed. Let’s face it. I’ve lived next door to the man for the past eight years and never heard him mention any sisters. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know they didn’t get on.”

  Laughter grumbled in my stomach and ruptured into a full-on belly laugh. It felt good to laugh; it had been too long. I couldn’t even remember the last time. Claudia laughed so hard she had to stop putting away the groceries to press a hand to the side of her stomach as though she had a stitch.

  “You really saw them off!” I said. “Their faces, when they got back in the car, were a picture.”

  “Let’s hope they think twice before they come back around here laying down the law.”

  “Something tells me they won’t be back.”

  A few days later, I agreed to walk to the corner shop. Claudia had been urging me to get out of the house and go into the village for days. She made out the world might end as she’d run out of her favourite surface cleaner. I wasn’t stupid, but I figured she was right – I couldn’t stay indoors for the whole of the holidays.

  I passed a few neighbours, who either smiled and waved, or hurriedly turned and entered their houses, but I could cope with that. I was just relieved they didn’t fire insults or accusations at me.

  Yazz, the beautiful Indian shopkeeper, smiled as I entered the shop.

  “Hello, my dear. How are you today?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine, thanks.” I glanced about, spotting three other people in the shop. My heart stopped as I realised one of them was Rachel, my ex-best friend.

  “Hi,” Rachel said as I approached, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

  “Hi, Rach. Nice tan. How’s things? I saw your lovely holiday photos on Facebook.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, did you? I’m sorry about the timing. With us being away, I hadn’t realised the date.”

  It saddened me the way she seemed to bristle slightly. She was clearly uncomfortable she’d bumped into me. I shook my head, dismissing the fact her actions had hurt me deeply. “That’s okay. Life goes on, or so I’m told.” I tried to smile, but I could tell by her expression I hadn’t quite managed it.

  “I heard about Kenny. I was shocked. Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” I nodded, biting my lower lip.

  “Talk on the street was you were going to be banged up for years. I’m glad they were wrong.”

  I shrugged again. “If it hadn’t been for the detective and my solicitor, I probably would have been. And, in any case, they could still be right. I need to convince the court now.”

  Rachel’s phone rang, and, startled, she looked at the screen. “We’ll have to catch up properly soon. I must get off. Mum’s waiting for some milk. She’s dying for a proper cup of English tea.” Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth as she realised what she’d said. “Oh, I’m sorry, Maggie. I didn’t mean…”

  “Don’t worry about it. I knew what you meant.”

  She lifted up the milk and shrugged. “Better go.”

  Immense sadness descended on me as I watched her walk to the counter and then scoot out the door – clearly relieved to get away from me. We’d been so close just a few months earlier.

  I picked up the cleaner Claudia wanted and also headed to the counter.

  “So sorry to hear of your troubles, Maggie,” Yazz said with a sad smile. “If ever you need a friend, remember, I’m here. I used to have some real heart to hearts with your mum, you know.”

  That surprised me. I knew my mum was popular, but I hadn’t realised she had any close friends, other than Claudia. “Really?”

  “Yes. And don’t worry – I know what that horrible man was really like.”

  I gasped, tears pricking my eyes. Shuffling of feet and a cough behind me made me jump. I placed the money on the counter. “Just this, please.” Then, I rushed for the door.

  So, Mum had confided in Yazz. How strange. Mum had been such a private person, always smiling on the outside. But she’d clearly found an ally in the soft-spoken woman. I needed to tell Matt. Maybe he would be able to convince her to speak up for me in court.

  I turned onto our street and was surprised when a silver car slowed and stopped beside me. My heart missed a beat as I watched the window wind down.

  “What do we have here, then?” Jake Stuart said.

  “I…I’ve just been to the shop, Detective.”

  He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and raised one eyebrow. “Cleaner, hey?” He sneered. “Did you buy that to wash out your lying mouth by any chance?”

  It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. My body began to shake uncontrollably. I shook my head and opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “You all right, Maggie?” Claudia suddenly appeared on the doorstep, and I almost collapsed with relief.

  Jake put his car into gear and dropped his glasses back in place before speeding off.

  Tears flowed hot and fast down my cheeks. Claudia was beside me in an instant and, placing a supportive arm around my shoulders, ushered me into the house. She was fuming when I told her what Jake had said, and she immediately grabbed her phone and began to call Donna.

  “No, don’t. He’ll be livid if we get him in trouble. He’ll get tired of picking on me eventually.” I wish I could believe the words that left my mouth, they sounded believable even to my own ears.

  “What made you so wise, Maggie?” Claudia said, ending the call.

  I shrugged. “I’m not. But I know I can’t stay around here if I want to put all this behind me.”

  “It’s still early days. Let’s see what the next few weeks bring.”

  Look at her, smiling at that old hag as though she hasn’t a care in the world. Not for long. She’ll pay – they’ll all pay for
what she’s done.

  8

  Matt contacted a few of Maggie’s teachers, which had proven difficult considering it was the summer holidays. Brenda Fellows was her form teacher, and he arranged to meet her at a coffee shop in Stockport. He knew it was her as soon as she walked in. Her no-nonsense brown, knee-length skirt, cream silk blouse, and sensible shoes gave the game away. Her thick mousy-brown hair had no shape and was parted to the side, and she wasn’t wearing a stroke of makeup.

  Matt jumped to his feet and introduced himself. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Just a black coffee, please.”

  He nodded. Not surprised in the least. After ordering a coffee for her and a hot chocolate for himself, they settled across from each other.

  “Now, you were asking about Maggie Simms?” Brenda said, not wasting any time on small talk.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s right. I just need to get an idea of what she was like before her mother was taken ill.”

  “Delightful. She was one of the top students in her class. I can’t remember ever having a cross word with her – which is rare, I can tell you, in this day and age.”

  “I can imagine. Was she popular?”

  Brenda looked down at her fingernails, her eyebrows tightly knitted as though deep in thought. “She wasn’t unpopular – if that makes sense? But she was too considerate and gentle to be in with the most popular girls in her year.”

  “Did you notice a change in her behaviour at all?”

  She nodded. “I did, and I feel terrible now for not digging deeper. I put it down to her mum’s illness, but it’s not my place to surmise anything.”

  “In what way did you see a change?”

  “She became sullen and withdrawn. She lost weight; her uniform practically hung off her already slight frame. Classic signals that something was seriously wrong at home. She was the topic of many staffroom discussions, and not one of us questioned what could be wrong. Her mum was dying, after all.”

  “It’s not your fault, Ms Fellows. Anybody would have jumped to the same conclusion.”

  “I know.” She nodded, sadly. “I keep telling myself the same thing, but I can’t shake the feeling that I let her down.”

  “Would you consider being a character witness for her?”

  “Of course. Although I can only state the facts. Her behaviour may well have been due to her mother’s illness, when all’s said and done.”

  “Just the truth. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Then, yes. I will gladly be her character witness.”

  Afterwards, Matt met up with two more of Maggie’s teachers – Charlotte Hamlett, her drama teacher, and John Taylor, her maths teacher. They said more or less the same as Ms Fellows; model student prior to her mother’s diagnosis and a shadow of her former self afterwards.

  Matt was well aware the prosecution would make mincemeat of their statements. Of course Maggie would appear withdrawn and sullen at school, knowing what her dear mother was going through at home.

  They’d also observed that, during breaks, Maggie had withdrawn herself from her usual crowd of friends, including her best friend Rachel Mendoza.

  When he got back to the office, Matt called Rachel’s home number. Her mother answered, almost immediately. “Hi, Mrs Mendoza. My name is Matt Pierson. I’m Maggie Simms’s solicitor.”

  “What are you calling here for, Mr Pierson?” she snapped.

  “I was hoping to speak to your daughter, Rachel. I need some insight into how Maggie was prior to her mother’s death.”

  “Out of the question. Rachel hadn’t been friends with Maggie for weeks before her mother died.”

  “Can I ask you what happened? They were best friends prior to that, weren’t they?”

  “They just grew apart. They’re kids – that’s what kids do.”

  “Yeah, if they were ten or eleven, maybe. But not sixteen and seventeen. Most people stay in touch with their childhood friends all their lives.”

  “Okay. If you want to know the truth. Rachel stopped hanging around with Maggie for no other reason than she was boring.”

  “Boring?” Matt saw red. “Boring! I would hope if you’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer, your daughter wouldn’t feel like acting the goat. That young girl has been through hell, and her supposed best friend was nowhere to be seen. What does that tell you about your precious daughter, Mrs Mendoza? Now I’m going to hang up before I say something I’ll regret.” He slammed the handset back on its cradle much harder than necessary, then again and again.

  A few minutes later, the phone rang.

  “It’s Deborah Mendoza. You can call around to speak to Rachel this afternoon, on one condition. I don’t want you upsetting her. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

  At two pm, Matt knocked on the door of a huge detached stone house. The door was opened by a glamorous woman who appeared to be in her forties.

  “Ah, Mr Pierson, come on in.” She led Matt through the impressive house. “Rachel’s in the conservatory.” Deborah threw over her shoulder as she walked. “She understands the importance of talking to you, but I’m sure you can imagine how nervous she is.”

  “Of course, Mrs Mendoza. I promise I won’t upset her.”

  He followed the woman through the plush lounge and into a large rectangular conservatory.

  Rachel Mendoza, an attractive young woman with shoulder-length, straight brown hair, sat on a cane chair, her hands knotted in her lap.

  “Hi, Rachel. Thanks for seeing me.”

  “Take a seat, Mr Pierson,” Mrs Mendoza said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” Matt smiled as he sat opposite Rachel.

  “Can you leave us, Mum?” Rachel said, as her mother moved a cushion from the chair beside her and prepared to sit down.

  “I’d rather stay, darling.”

  “Please, Mum.”

  Her mother stood up, stifled a sigh, and nodded. “I’ll be just in the next room if you need me.”

  When they were alone, Matt turned to Rachel again. “Can you tell me about your relationship with Maggie?” he began.

  She shrugged one shoulder. “We’ve been friends since we were like, two or three. She used to be my best friend.”

  “Used to be? What changed?”

  She shrugged again and turned her pretty amber eyes to the drizzly, grey scenery beyond the windowpane.

  “Did you argue?”

  Another shrug. “Not really argue.”

  “But there was something?”

  She turned to face him. “We grew apart, that’s all.”

  “Can you tell me why that was?”

  Her eyes darted to the door, clearly concerned about her mother overhearing her. She shook her head. “No reason.”

  “I find that difficult to believe, Rachel. You’d been best friends for years, and suddenly, nothing.”

  Rachel’s eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t want to get her in trouble.”

  “I know you don’t, but it’s important you tell me anything that may affect the case.”

  She nodded, wiping her eyes. “Maggie started sleeping around. In fact, she was having sex with just about anybody.”

  That staggered Matt. He hadn’t expected Rachel to say something like that about her seemingly innocent friend. Surely Maggie couldn’t have changed that much since her stepfather raped her? “Are you saying she wasn’t a virgin?”

  Rachel laughed. “She was sleeping around! How could she have been a virgin?”

  Matt shook his head. He couldn’t allow this witness to stand up in court.

  Rachel continued. “I feel so sorry for her. It was clearly because of her mum’s illness, but she was giving us all a bad name. I didn’t want to be known as a slut.”

  “I see.” He scratched his head. “Did you see Kenny often?”

  She nodded. “Every day, pretty much.”

  “And what did you think about him?
How was the relationship between him and Maggie?”

  The annoying, one-shoulder shrug again. “Normal. He was nice – kind, in fact.”

  “So, you never witnessed anything out of the ordinary where he was concerned?”

  “No. Nothing. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I appreciate your honesty.” He got to his feet. “That will be all, Rachel. Thank you for seeing me.”

  He said his goodbyes to Mrs Mendoza and walked back to his car feeling dejected.

  That afternoon, when Maggie called with information about the local shop owner, he sighed, more than a little relieved. Then, he grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the car.

  The beautiful Indian woman greeted him with a warm smile. Her hair was tied loosely in a plait and rolled at the nape of her neck. She was wearing an emerald green, traditional Indian sari. But it was her kindly, almond-shaped brown eyes that drew Matt to her.

  “How may I help you, young man?” She smiled her warm greeting.

  That threw him. On first impressions, he thought the woman was no older than his thirty years, but looking more closely, he realised she possessed an air of wisdom only borne of age.

  “Hi, my name’s Matthew Pierson.” He handed her a business card.

  Her eyebrows furrowed, and she lifted her gaze back to his.

  “I’m looking for Yazz.”

  Yazz nodded. “How may I help you?”

  “My client, Maggie Simms, tells me you used to be a close friend of her mother, Emily.”

  Yazz nodded again. “Hang on a moment, will you?” She slid off the stool and popped her head into the room behind her.

  Moments later, a middle-aged man appeared, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

  “Come through, please, Mr Pierson,” Yazz said, lifting the hatch on the counter.

  Surprised, Matt greeted the man and hurriedly did as she asked. He followed her through to the back room which held an aroma of delicious-smelling spicy food.

  She offered him a seat and sat down opposite. “Now, what would you like to know?”