them. Before they died, I mean.”
“All of them?”
She nodded.
I wasn’t expecting this. “How soon before?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I need you to tell me.”
Deed looked at Madie carefully. She was by no means relaxed, but she wasn't showing any of the characteristic signs liars exhibit. She was obviously nervous as she fidgeted in her seat. He sensed she was still in shock. During his prolonged stare she began to chew on a thumb nail, but maintained eye contact with him. This decided his next course of action.
Deed stood and partially closed his office door to access his filing cabinet. He pulled the cold case files from the back of the drawer. Before sitting he stacked the pile of files on a corner of his desk. Then he looked over at Madie. She was watching his every action as though mesmerised. He picked up the first folder then dropped his eyes as he opened it.
“Well, the coroner puts Danny Matthew’s death at approximately 23.12 hours on May 2 nd . A shame really, it was his birthday.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up at her inquiringly. She licked her lips then pressed them together. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a tiny squeak emerged.
Madie cleared her throat. “I met him that day. He was on his way home. I think his mom had a big party planned.”
“Was it an arranged meeting?”
“No. No. I was on my way back from work and I met him at the bus stop.”
“How did you know him?”
“He used to hang out with Luis and his guys at the Portuguese café sometimes.”
“How much time had you spent with him previously?”
“None, he was just a passing acquaintance. Someone you might see from time to time when people come by the house.”
"Are you certain you didn't spend more time with him prior to this meeting at the bus stop?"
"Of course I'm sure." Her voice rose in agitation.
"Let's move on. We'll come back to Danny Matthews."
Deed closed the file and put it to one side. He opened the second file on the pile. “What about Anthony Brockwell?”
“I met him at the sixth form disco.”
“The sixth form disco? How old were you?”
“Nearly sixteen.”
Deed watched as a strange look came over her. She was clearly remembering something. What were you like at sixteen I wonder? Pushing the distracting thought aside he focused on Madie. A thin wisp of a smile touched the edges of her mouth, but then she looked up at him. Suddenly her eyes were swimming in tears. Her lips compressed into a thin line. Her voice was heavy as she said:
“He promised to ring me the next day, but he never did. I never heard from him again.”
“Were you dating him at the time?”
“No.”
Deed heard a wistful quality in her voice.
“How did you know him?”
“We went to the same school.”
“Had you spoken to him before?”
“No. I’d seen him around school quite a bit. He was a sixth former. I was a lowly Year Ten. The two don’t mix.”
“So why were you speaking to him at the disco?”
“He came and spoke to me. He was so nice. Different from what everyone said.”
“What did they say?”
“That he had a nasty streak — hurt animals and things like that, but I never sensed it. He was so gentle.”
Deed saw her eyes cloud in memory again. He moved on to the next file.
With each new name Madie revealed how and when she had met each victim. In each case she claimed each meeting was momentary.
Jesus! This is unbelievable. How the hell has she done it? The turmoil inside him had stopped. It always did once it was proved right. “So we’ve established you were with each of the victims briefly the day before they died. Even though these men died months, sometimes years apart, you are most definitely a common factor Miss Bricot.”
“This can’t just be coincidence can it?”
“I don’t think so Miss Bricot.” No such thing as coincidence is there?
Madie swallowed then nodded her head. She opened her mouth as though to speak then shut it.
“All of them?”
She nodded.
I wasn’t expecting this. “How soon before?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I need you to tell me.”
Deed looked at Madie carefully. She was by no means relaxed, but she wasn't showing any of the characteristic signs liars exhibit. She was obviously nervous as she fidgeted in her seat. He sensed she was still in shock. During his prolonged stare she began to chew on a thumb nail, but maintained eye contact with him. This decided his next course of action.
Deed stood and partially closed his office door to access his filing cabinet. He pulled the cold case files from the back of the drawer. Before sitting he stacked the pile of files on a corner of his desk. Then he looked over at Madie. She was watching his every action as though mesmerised. He picked up the first folder then dropped his eyes as he opened it.
“Well, the coroner puts Danny Matthew’s death at approximately 23.12 hours on May 2 nd . A shame really, it was his birthday.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up at her inquiringly. She licked her lips then pressed them together. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a tiny squeak emerged.
Madie cleared her throat. “I met him that day. He was on his way home. I think his mom had a big party planned.”
“Was it an arranged meeting?”
“No. No. I was on my way back from work and I met him at the bus stop.”
“How did you know him?”
“He used to hang out with Luis and his guys at the Portuguese café sometimes.”
“How much time had you spent with him previously?”
“None, he was just a passing acquaintance. Someone you might see from time to time when people come by the house.”
"Are you certain you didn't spend more time with him prior to this meeting at the bus stop?"
"Of course I'm sure." Her voice rose in agitation.
"Let's move on. We'll come back to Danny Matthews."
Deed closed the file and put it to one side. He opened the second file on the pile. “What about Anthony Brockwell?”
“I met him at the sixth form disco.”
“The sixth form disco? How old were you?”
“Nearly sixteen.”
Deed watched as a strange look came over her. She was clearly remembering something. What were you like at sixteen I wonder? Pushing the distracting thought aside he focused on Madie. A thin wisp of a smile touched the edges of her mouth, but then she looked up at him. Suddenly her eyes were swimming in tears. Her lips compressed into a thin line. Her voice was heavy as she said:
“He promised to ring me the next day, but he never did. I never heard from him again.”
“Were you dating him at the time?”
“No.”
Deed heard a wistful quality in her voice.
“How did you know him?”
“We went to the same school.”
“Had you spoken to him before?”
“No. I’d seen him around school quite a bit. He was a sixth former. I was a lowly Year Ten. The two don’t mix.”
“So why were you speaking to him at the disco?”
“He came and spoke to me. He was so nice. Different from what everyone said.”
“What did they say?”
“That he had a nasty streak — hurt animals and things like that, but I never sensed it. He was so gentle.”
Deed saw her eyes cloud in memory again. He moved on to the next file.
With each new name Madie revealed how and when she had met each victim. In each case she claimed each meeting was momentary.
Jesus! This is unbelievable. How the hell has she done it? The turmoil inside him had stopped. It always did once it was proved right. “So we’ve established you were with each of the victims briefly the day before they died. Even though these men died months, sometimes years apart, you are most definitely a common factor Miss Bricot.”
“This can’t just be coincidence can it?”
“I don’t think so Miss Bricot.” No such thing as coincidence is there?
Madie swallowed then nodded her head. She opened her mouth as though to speak then shut it.
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