Tuesday morning, Maddie was half way through checking their monthly credit card statement – not that she was all that good about remembering to do so on a regular basis, but the total this month was abnormally high – and found a large amount had been paid to their optometrist. Strange. She’d meant to get her eyes checked for her reading glasses but had not done so yet. Jade had perfect vision and Wayne had an antipathy about his deteriorating eyesight, preferring cheapie magnifying glasses from the Pound Shop rather than admitting he needed to have his vision properly assessed. A harmless middle-aged vanity, in Maddie’s opinion.
“Are you finally getting new prescription glasses?” she called out to him. He was next door in their bedroom getting dressed.
“How did you know?” he asked, appearing at her home office door.
“Credit card,” she said. “Can’t sneak anything past me.” She grinned at him.
“I, um, bought some contact lenses,” he said. “So I can see when I’m working.”
She was astounded. He’d been wearing his cheapie glasses last night and complaining he didn’t have the right pair for watching television. “Are the contacts no good?” she asked.
“No. They’re great. Makes a huge dif,” he said, turning away.
“Why aren’t you using them, then?” She was curious. Hundreds of pounds for contacts and he’s not wearing them?
He looked embarrassed. “I bought them for work.”
She narrowed her eyes. He was fibbing. “Where are they now?”
“At the studio.”
“For heaven’s sake, Wayne, if they make life better for work, they’ll make life better for leisure, too.”
“You’re right,” he said, brightening. “I’ll bring them home.”
“Wear them home,” she said, turning back to the accounts.
It was only after she’d heard him leaving for the studio, she thought their conversation through. She shook her head. She must have caught him in the middle of some musical creativity and only half paying attention to her. Just wearing the new contacts in the studio indeed. Not able to admit he really did need proper glasses, contacts, whatever.
She wandered downstairs for a cup of something. Peppermint tea would do. No caffeine. Having all this spare time continued to feel odd. She mentally ticked off the various tasks she’d set herself before meeting with the HR person and the boss’s boss, Bettina. Which was, gulp, tomorrow.
First, Shirley. Stuck there. Nothing to do at the moment. Or should she have a talk to Shirley about how she should not tell Kathy that Henry was a convicted child sex offender as it could influence her judgement. How would Shirley take it? As a criticism? Or could she see how it had influenced her own attitudes? Maddie shoved that one into the too-hard basket.
Second, Brody. Ethan now had that one firmly under control. Did she have any tag ends to untangle? Jade and her belief her mother had talked to Ethan – one of a series of too many things Jade believed that had little or no substance to them. Maddie would clear it up if ever an opportunity occurred. But she wasn’t holding her breath.
Oh. It stopped her cold. She’d forgotten about the stepfather. Had Brody made up the story to divert the attention of the police away from him? But something niggled. A thirteen year old girl who was presumably having sex with an older boy. Not something that happened in middle-class suburbia, or, anyway, not that often because of parental oversight. Or something.
When a child has been sexually abused, she knew, sometimes the child becomes hyper sexual. Not that she knew very much about it. Was it a truism that a child who was sexually active at thirteen was hyper sexual? Not a topic she wanted to think about. But one she really should not ignore.
Her tasks. Yes. She was up to the third. What was her third? Something about the weekend Freya stayed … oh, yes. A romantic weekend away. Good for a marriage. She reached for the telephone.
After filling in her friend Caroline, a psychologist with the Probation Service in Ealing and a long-time friend, on all the shenanigans concerning Romania, Maddie asked about the cottage Caroline had inherited from her grandparents. What was it called?
“Briar Cottage,” Caroline said. “I’ve just spent a weekend there. Mostly doing housework – it’s ages since I’d been up there, but still it feels like I’ve had a weekend away. Thinking of accepting my offer?”
“Yes, actually. It was triggered by something I heard recently, about how any marriage needs a romantic weekend away every now and again. My acquaintance was talking about a short holiday in New York, of course, but it did put me in mind of your Woodley Bottom hideaway.”
Caroline laughed. “Kind of stretching it, my friend, comparing my cottage in the depths of Oxfordshire to flying off to a glamorous location like New York. But tell me the dates and I’ll see if I can fit you into its extremely busy schedule.”
“I haven’t even broached the topic with the Musical Genius,” Maddie said, “but with no work, it will not be too difficult to fit whatever is available into my own extremely un-busy schedule. Around spending my time weeding the garden and waltzing off for coffee dates with friends, of course.”
“Talking of coffee dates….”
After arranging to meet up on Thursday, the day after the dreaded meeting at work, both if she were still off work or back, Maddie, with some trepidation, rang Shirley.
“Shall we meet for coffee?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Usual place, three o’clock?” Shirley answered, equally quiet.
“See you there.”
Maddie changed her shoes for her coffee date and put on some lipstick. She gazed at her hair. Needed a cut. And she had Bettina in the morning. Did she have time before meeting Shirley?
Maddie rang her hairdresser. No, she was busy right now, but, if only a cut, she could squeeze her in at, say, four-thirty. Maddie made the appointment.
She hung up the phone and looked at the time.
The stepfather. It niggled. She walked into her home office to consult Mr Google. She remembered the Gainlys last name, but what was his first name? She googled Linsey Benton and up came several news sources. While scanning them, she finally found an interview with the parents, Janine and Trevor. Trevor Gainly. She googled him and the same recent news items came up but below them she found a nugget. A Trevor Gainly – there couldn’t be more than one, surely – was awarded car salesman of the year several months ago. The photograph confirmed it. So Trevor Gainly sold cars. In Kingston-upon-Thames. And she knew where that car yard was located.
When Maddie arrived at the coffee shop, Shirley was already seated with her coffee in front of her. Maddie waved and smiled before ordering her cappuccino at the service desk.
When she sat down, they both talked at once.
“Sorry…,” Shirley said.
“My fault…,” Maddie said.
The moment was perfect and they both visibly relaxed.
“You first,” Maddie said.
“I was out of order last time,” Shirley said. “It was the shock. I’d followed that case and been relieved when the man was sent to prison for some time. I’d obviously not recognised him when he came into the shop. Truly, when you said who he was, I almost fainted.”
“I should have made it clear from the beginning,” Maddie said, reaching over to lightly touch the back of Shirley’s hand. “It’s sort of a ‘need-to-know’ situation. We usually don’t tell anyone what crime had been committed unless totally necessary, which is not often.” She sighed. “I should have realised it was necessary this time. My fault entirely.”
“Do you think he murdered the second child?”
“He couldn’t have,” Maddie said, looking Shirley in the eye. “The murder took place when he was in the shop, being served by Kathy.”
“Strange,” Shirley murmured, her eyebrows raised.
“You mean two nearly identical crimes in the same area not committed by one and the same person?”
Shirley’s blue eyes widened. “He did do that awful thing to the first child, didn’t he?”
Maddie gazed out the large window, watching cars manoeuvre through the streets, school children walking in twos or fours and more, cluttering up the footpath. She saw none of it. “He was convicted,” she said, “largely because the child identified him.”
“A truthful child?”
Maddie shrugged. “The jury believed her.”
Shirley, the former teacher, looked at her sharply. “I see.”
Maddie threw out her previously constructed introduction to the delicate problem of Kathy’s reaction to Henry’s crime. Instead she leaned forward and spoke directly to Shirley. “What shall we tell Kathy?” she asked.
“Or rather, when?” Shirley replied.
Maddie bade Shirley goodbye outside of the coffee shop. She had three quarters of an hour before her hair appointment and she knew how she’d use it. She walked to the car yard.
She had peered into several cars, reading the list of attributes on the sheet of paper hanging in the window each time before a salesman walked over to her. Not Trevor Gainly.
“Lovely little beastie,” he said with a grand toothy smile that split his face. “Goes like the wind.”
“Nice coppery colour,” Maddie said deliberately just to see whether the salesman’s smile changed. It did, but it only froze momentarily.
“That it is,” he said heartily. “Now what is it that you are looking for?”
Maddie thought fast. “Actually, these are used cars. I promised myself that when I did an upgrade I would buy new. Do you just sell used cars?”
The smile got even broader if that was at all possible, showing even more teeth. “My goodness, no. Let’s go into the showroom and see the little beauties in there.”
“I’m just looking, mind,” Maddie said. “My husband is the one who does the buying of cars in our family.” She smiled. Unfortunately, that silly statement was actually true. Her own car was the result of a more-or-less happy transaction when one of Wayne’s mates had fallen on hard times and had to sell his car at short notice, and at a good discount. Maddie had no say in the matter, but given the car was significantly newer than the one she’d been driving, she’d accepted with good grace. No matter the colour.
Sure enough, Mr Trevor Gainly, master car salesman, was hovering over a small desk in the corner of a large glitzy showroom full of shiny cars. He wandered over to them. “Can I help?”
Toothy Grin paused. “I’m just showing this little lady our range. Hubby may be along later.”
Gainly nodded wisely. In other words, not worth his while. “Let me know if I can add anything,” he said, his disinterest plain.
With a quick glance at the time, Maddie asked if she could test drive a car of the same coppery colour as the one she’d admired outside.
Toothy looked sad. “I can drive you. Would that do?”
“Not me driving?”
“Well…” He shot a quick glance at Gainly who was busy shuffling papers at the small desk.
“Oh, I see,” Maddie said. “It’s new. What about that other one of the same colour? The used one. Could I drive that one?”
“Oh, yes. That one would be fine. But … did you want to?”
The poor man was thoroughly confused. Time to put him out of his misery. “Oh dear,” she said, looking at her watch. “My hair appointment.” She looked up at him with a sorry smile. “This will have to be postponed.”
“Maybe come with your husband next time?” Toothy asked.
Maddie noticed Gainly’s head come up. He’d been listening. He approached.
“My card,” he said, shoving it into her hands. Maddie had a quick look at Toothy’s face. Done by the master salesman.
As she sat with her hairdresser snipping away, Maddie reflected what she now knew. First, Gainly was a car salesman. Second, sometimes people are allowed to drive off; sometimes not. Therefore, sometimes a salesman could be away from the car yard. But Gainly was wearing a smart suit and very shiny shoes. Hardly the gear for murdering a stepdaughter at the muddy edge of the Thames.
Wayne came in while Maddie and Jade were in the middle of dinner.
“What happened to you?” Maddie asked, shocked at Wayne’s new haircut. “Did you fall into a threshing machine?” She grinned at him. “Don’t tell me you did this deliberately.” Some of his hair had been almost shaved and some remained that bit too long. It was a modern cut occasionally seen in rock bands, or, maybe, even younger wannabe fans.
Wayne blushed.
“It looks great, Dad!” Jade said. “Except for your wrinkles, you could pass for fifteen.” She guffawed.
“Wayne, have you dyed it?” Maddie turned to Jade. “Would you believe, your father has dyed his hair.”
“Sad,” Jade said, shovelling the last of her spaghetti into her mouth.
Wayne spun on his heel and left, slamming the front door behind him.
Jade and Maddie looked at each other and burst into giggles that only grew in intensity.
When she could, Maddie gasped out, “It’ll grow. That’s all I can say to him when he returns.” She wiped her eyes. “It had better grow!” Which set them off into a new fit of giggles.
Jade left to do her homework and Maddie sobered instantly. New contact lenses, dyeing his hair and a mod haircut?
When she stood, she reached for the chair back to steady herself.