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  Madeline just grinned at her, wishing she could tell her what she’d really been up to. She thought there was no harm in telling of farting in Skinny Suit’s face on the train, if only to get her friend to smile and think of something other than Todd, so she took a sip of her drink and launched into the tale. When she got to the part about the rumble in her gut and letting a smelly one out into his aviator-framed face, Rebecca nearly fell off her chair laughing. She’d told the story well, emphasising the main bits like it was a scene in the best movie ever, and Rebecca reared her pretty head back with laughter, curbed only by the arrival of two plates of toasties.

  “I’ll have a glass of what she’s having,” said the pretty barmaid as she handed out knives and forks to both. “That lemon, lime and bitters must be more potent than I thought.” And with a beaming smile, she left them to it.

  Rebecca was finally looking more like her old and seriously gorgeous self. “I’m famished. Let’s eat,” she declared. And they did. At least Madeline’s antics could be used in a positive way occasionally.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “I’m going to go back and dig a bit more at Madeline Simpson’s. Something doesn’t add up.”

  Jack rolled his eyes at Amanda and fiddled with his moustache, deep in thought. “There’s nothing to dig up, is there? I thought we’d been over all this – deduced he’s buggered off, escaped his gambling debts and his sister and has gone off because he can’t face the music? Is that not the end of it?” His voiced was slightly raised and that was never a good thing. To be fair, the case did look pretty much closed. Just not to Amanda Lacey.

  “I’ll go in my own time, see what I can find. Maybe woman to woman, and with a bit of time passing, she’ll get sloppy and say something, drop me a tad to work with.”

  “You’re sniffing up the wrong tree with that one. No motive and no evidence. Up to you, though, but count me out. I’ve bigger fish to fry and so, incidentally, have you. You waste time on this, you’ll screw it up with Sir up there,” he said, pointing to their superior’s office door with a podgy finger.

  She knew he was right. “I’ll stay below the radar, and go and see her later on my way home. He’ll never know. And it’s barking up the wrong tree, not sniffing.” Amanda knew she was skating on thin ice, but sometimes, she knew, you had to keep picking at the bone, and this bone needed picking.

  It was after 5 pm when she reached Madeline’s house. The warm afternoon sun was still quite strong when she knocked on the door. A moment later Madeline Simpson stood before her.

  “Oh, hello again,” Madeline greeted her brightly. “Would you like to come in?”

  Amanda was watching her face and movements carefully, looking for any telltale signs that she was perhaps a little flustered, guilty, anything that she could see and use, but there was nothing. Either Madeline Simpson was actually innocent, or she was a damn good actress.

  “Thank you, yes. I just have a couple of questions I’m hoping you can clear up for me.” She followed Madeline back down the hallway to the lounge. Madeline certainly wasn’t going to take her to the kitchen. The Great Orange Thing and the scene of the crime were quite visible from the window, a constant reminder of the wild events of that day.

  “Would you like a cold drink perhaps?” she offered with a smile.

  “No, thanks. If I could just ask you about your cat?”

  “That’s a strange question. What about him?”

  “Well, an odd thing was found in the missing landscaper’s van.” Amanda watched Madeline like a hawk as she spoke, but still nothing registered. “We found cat hair, ginger cat hair actually, and I’m wondering how he had ginger cat hair in the driver’s seat of his van. He doesn’t own a cat, you see, but you do.”

  “Well, I expect he picked it up off Dexter, then. The stuff is everywhere, on every chair inside and outside, plus Dexter will have climbed all over that digger while it sat here waiting for him to turn up.”

  Amanda knew she was indeed right, but needed to ask, to see her reaction.

  Madeline changed tack for her. “So he’s still not shown up yet, then? Do you think he’s just buggered off someplace?”

  “We’re pursuing different lines of enquiry at the moment. Why do you ask?

  “Oh, only because it’s a local story. There’s been a bit about it in the papers. I did hear on the grapevine he liked the horses. I bet he’s in hock up to his eyeballs and run off to hide out from the people who are looking for him. That MacAlister, the one that owns the bookie’s, he’s not got the friendliest reputation around here, but I’m sure you already know that. It would explain why he wanted to put his price up on me at the last minute, though, but I wasn’t having it. A deal is a deal in my book.”

  Madeline was aware she was rambling a little, but she also needed to make sure she did her best to deflect suspicion away from herself and point the finger somewhere else. She wanted their line of enquiry to be a long way away from her front door. “That’s what I reckon, anyway: too much debt and gone off. His gambling seems to be common knowledge now.” She watched Amanda right back. There wasn’t a clue on the officer’s face that she’d given herself away, and Madeline felt pretty sure she’d done a decent job with her little charade.

  Amanda knew she had nothing else to ask or go on, so she made her way slowly back to the front door with a simple, “That’s all, then. Thank you for your time.”

  Madeline had one final question for her, though. “Is it okay to get that digger shifted now? Only it’s killing the grass and I need to get the pond dug if I’m ever going to enjoy one this summer.”

  “I don’t see why not. We don’t need it now. You’ll ring the guy who delivered it?”

  “Yes, I’m sure Des will be wanting it back when he decides to turn up and do some work.” It sounded callous even to her own ears, but Madeline knew she had to be convincing. She was grateful for her amateur dramatics classes all those years ago as a young woman. You just never knew when experience might come in handy. Detective Lacey’s slip of “We don’t need it now” was not lost on her: maybe the investigation was finally over.

  With the front door open, she followed Amanda out with her eyes as she walked to the pavement and unlocked her car door. Standing on the step in the late sunshine, Madeline watched as Amanda started the engine and drove away. She let her shoulders back down to their normal height, took one deep breath in and out and headed to the blue bottle in the kitchen cupboard, hoping there was plenty of ice left in the dispenser.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Week 6

  Thursday

  James lived alone. He’d been alone since his wife had passed almost twenty years ago, when he was in his forties. The lack of companionship had troubled him at first but as he’d grown older he’d come to the conclusion that he was actually quite at ease with his own company. His time was his own. No more did he need to think about being someplace at a given time, worry about someone waiting for him with his dinner on the table, or consider someone else when choosing a restaurant or going on holiday. Plus, there was the fact he was already married to his job. His late wife had worked there with him until she had fallen pregnant with their son, who had sadly then been stillborn, and she’d suffered greatly with the loss. And so had he, but not to the same extent: she’d never really got over it and had never returned to work. She had chosen instead to paint her sadness away, spending her days in a back room of the house painting whatever she saw in her head. Those paintings never saw the light of day, were never hung on the many walls of the big house and never made it as Christmas presents for others, but they had served their purpose in keeping her mind as sane as it could be under the circumstances. He’d wanted to help her at home rather than send her off somewhere, packaged up with a suitcase, and soon to be forgotten, and he had hoped she’d appreciated his choice. It was a relief, therefore, when she’d finally passed some years later of cancer that had never been diagnosed or treated. He’d locked that room where
she used to exist, and not even the housekeeper, Mrs. Stewart, had ever been into it. So he’d rattled around the big silent house on his own for as long as he could remember, book club and a couple of other visitors aside, but that was it.

  He had learned over the years that he could still get the odd bit of pleasure that a man needed without going through the long-windedness of finding another partner, and once a month took to the services of one lady in particular, though there had been a few more visits from someone else much earlier on. Now his monthly visit was enough for his needs and they had a regular set-up – the first Friday of the month. Her name was Vivien. And the first Friday of the month was tomorrow night.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  She’d failed. Failed once again to get a full book read since the last book club, but this time Madeline wasn’t so bothered – because she had a plan for cantankerous old James. He’d made her and poor Pam a little uncomfortable last time with the raunchy romance scenes, so it was payback time, although Pam didn’t know it yet. Madeline was sure she wouldn’t mind: this was just going to be a bit of fun, no harm done. It would be something to snigger about later in the evening, knowing what would be happening upstairs in James’s bedroom after they’d all gone home.

  The thought made her smile even now as she pulled out the drawer of Gordon’s bedside cabinet. Inside was a little box containing powerful blue diamonds, and not the kind that jewellers use. They were more the kind that those looking for some longer-lasting fun in the bedroom department would use, and yes, she and Gordon used them occasionally too, just for the fun of it.

  Undoing the small box, she took one out and slipped it into her trouser pocket for the first part of the plan. Since James had made them both feel uncomfortable, this little initiative was going to do something along the same lines to him.

  Making her way back downstairs, she took two teaspoons out of the kitchen drawer, placed the blue diamond between the two and pressed down, turning the little blue tablet into potent dust. She then tipped the contents onto a small piece of plastic kitchen film, pulled in the four corners and twisted the edges together to seal the powder in, then slipped the little parcel into her pocket. The plan was pretty much all set as long as no one joined her in the kitchen when it came time to get wine and nibbles. Hiding the blue powder in cheese and crackers wasn’t going to work, so she had bought a tub of M&S smoked mackerel pâté and some rye crackers and planned on using those to deliver the message. She just hoped James liked smoked mackerel pâté or else it wasn’t going to work at all.

  The clock on the kitchen wall said it was time to make a move, so she headed outside to her car with the pâté and crackers balancing just inside the top of her handbag. A few minutes later she was pulling up outside James’s huge house again. It had been two whole weeks since she had last been there. Where the hell does time go when you’re having fun?

  “Evening,” Annabel shouted, and waved brightly as she locked her car just along the road a bit from Madeline. “Another balmy one, but better than that rain we had yesterday.”

  “Hello, Annabel. Nice to see you. And yes, the rain was welcome in the garden, but who doesn’t prefer the sunshine?” She retrieved her bag off the passenger seat and the two women headed to the front gate and up the neat front path. Turning to Annabel, Madeline said, “I thought I would bring some crackers and pâté for a change to cheese. Do you think James would mind? Cheese is a bit too much for me in the evening. Gives me a headache.”

  “Oh, I think that’s a great idea.” Annabel was always so over-the-top cheery, and you couldn’t help but love her for it – she brightened everybody’s day. “I don’t think he’ll mind at all. In fact, maybe we could suggest we take it in turns to bring something to nibble on to the meetings. James has always supplied the food and wine since we first started. Shall I suggest it?”

  “Yes, do that.” Madeline smiled back just as brightly at her. “On another note, though, have you read the book this week?” She hoped she had so that at least one person could talk about it in the absence of her own knowledge. All she’d managed last week was the Woman’s Weekly and the opening couple of chapters of what they were supposed to be reading, which hadn’t grabbed her at all.

  “Yes, I’ve read it. Not quite what I thought it was going to be, but it was okay. I can see why she wrote it under another name.” She was talking about JK Rowling and her pseudonym, Robert Galbraith. The book they were reading was the first one in ‘his’ new series, The Cuckoo’s Calling. It was a murder mystery, but there were too many words Madeline just didn’t know the meaning of and she had given up early on. She knew she should try harder.

  “No good?” she asked curiously. They were nearly up to the front door.

  “Ah, it’s okay. A little slow, I thought. I guess sales weren’t that strong under the male name, so that’s why we all know it’s her now. May as well use your name if it can make you some money,” she said, giggling.

  The front door was open on such a warm night and they both sauntered in. James greeted them with a deep “Hello” and both women replied with big smiles.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing some pâté and crackers, James,” Madeline said in her most charming voice. “I hope you don’t mind. It seems the burden of nibbles is always on you, the host. Is that okay?” She gave him her best killer smile and headed out the back to his massive kitchen that rarely saw action.

  He followed her in, looking a little surprised at her smile. Maybe it was a tad overdone, but it must have worked because when he’d recovered, he stammered a little as he replied to her retreating back, “Yes, yes, of course. How kind.”

  I can be kind when I feel like it – or when I have a motive.

  She dropped her bag on the floor by the breakfast bar stools, slipped the pâté into the fridge for later and left the crackers on the side.

  “I’ll come back out and get them for supper a bit later,” she said as casually as she could.

  Other “hellos” could be heard down the hallway as the others arrived and greeted one another, so Madeline took the tray of glasses and the bottle of wine and went to join in the greetings and be sociable in the lounge.

  It wasn’t long before they were all discussing the recent weather and other snippets of news, particularly the fact that the groper was still at large, and now targeting other women, not just prostitutes. Josh was most interested in it; he read far too many murder mystery novels and fancied himself a bit of a Miss Marple. Perhaps he was getting writing ideas of his own. “It said on The Daisy Chain earlier in the week that there has now been more than that one attack on a member of the public,” Josh said. “He’s not just targeting hookers anymore. It’s a bit of a worry really.”

  The others did a collective head nod and Derek chimed in with, “And I believe the last one was only down the road on the edge of the park, though it wasn’t serious, thank god. She got away quickly and because she was out for a jog and he’d surprised her, she managed to hightail it before he could do much. Ran straight home and called the police.”

  “He can’t be that smart if he was trying to get hold of someone jogging, now, can he, really?” James clearly wasn’t impressed at Derek’s common sense and went on, “I mean, we all read enough books. Well, some of us do.” He aimed a meaningful glance at Madeline. “At any rate, most of us know how these things work, and to aim at a running target seems pretty thick to me.”

  He was right, but the comment about some folk reading books landed in Madeline’s stomach with a thud. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she was comforted by the little plastic-wrapped package that was still there.

  Just you bloody wait.

  James decided it was time to officially start the club meeting and called for attention. The chatter stopped immediately.

  “Excellent. So, The Cuckoo’s Calling. Who would like to start with their overview first? How about you, Madeline?”

  Awkward sod – like she wouldn’t realise he’d done t
hat on purpose.

  “Oh, you move on to the next person and come back to me. I’ll just go and put some pâté on a few crackers. Back in a moment.” She smiled at everyone as she stood and made her way back through to the kitchen. As Lorna was giving her thoughts on the book in her absence, she knew she hadn’t got too much time: she had to act quickly. She opened the fridge to retrieve the pâté, took a knife from the drawer to spread it with and prepared a dozen or so crackers for everyone. Madeline then tipped the contents of the little package of blue powder into the remaining pâté, slipped the plastic film back into her pocket, and stirred the pâté and powder mix, creating a potent paste. She stuck her finger in to test it wasn’t obviously crunchy, but the particles were nice and small. No one would ever know there had been anything added.

  Yesssssssssssss.

  Loading up more crackers, she set them down on one specific corner of the plate all together. James would surely eat the ones that were closest to him; she’d just make sure it was them. She wondered for a moment what would happen if Pam or Annabel had one by mistake, but this was no time for pondering. She put the remainder of the pâté back into her bag on the floor, picked up the plate of crackers and went back to the front room where she rearranged the coffee table slightly, making sure the ‘naughty’ crackers were facing the person they were meant for.

  Derek made an “ooh” sound and leaned in to get a couple, with the others following suit. James, not wanting to be left out, joined in and took two, which he ate immediately. So far so good: he’d taken the ones specifically for him. Madeline joined in with a couple of crackers for herself, washed them down with a mouthful of wine, then set about thinking what she was going to say about a book she’d only read about fifty pages of. When it came round to her turn, she managed herself quite well considering, taking points from the others’ reviews and basically putting them into her own words, though she suspected James knew what she was doing.