by Tana French
Those right there, Frank said appreciatively, after a long look, may be the loveliest hands Ive ever seen.
Extraordinary, Cooper said with relish, leaning forwards to peer at me and AnonyGirl over his glasses. The odds must be one in millions.
Anyone seeing any discrepancies? Frank asked the room.
No one said anything. Sams jaw was tight.
Gentlemen, Frank said, with a flourish of his arm, we have a match.
Which doesnt necessarily mean we need to do anything with it, said Sam.
OKelly was doing a sarcastic slow clap. Congratulations, Mackey. Makes a great party trick. Now that we all know what Maddox looks like, can we get back to the case?
And can I stop standing here? I asked. My legs were trembling like Id been running and I was furiously pissed off with everyone in sight, including myself. Unless you need me for inspiration.
You can, of course, Frank said, finding a marker for the whiteboard. So heres what weve got. Alexandra Janet Madison, aka Lexie, registered as born in Dublin on the first of March 1979and I should know, I registered her myself. In October 2000he started sketching a timeline, fast straight strokesshe entered UCD as a psychology postgrad. In May of 2001, she dropped out of college due to stress-related illness and went to her parents in Canada to recover, and that shouldve been the end of her
Hang on. You gave me a nervous breakdown? I demanded.
Your thesis was getting on top of you, Frank told me, grinning. Its a tough old world, academia; you couldnt take the heat, so you got out of the kitchen. I had to get rid of you somehow.
I rearranged myself against my wall and made a face at him; he winked at me. He had played straight into this girls hands, years before she ever came on the scene. Any slip she made when she ran into that old acquaintance and started trawling for info, any off-kilter pause, any reluctance to meet up again: Well, you know she did have that nervous breakdown . . .
In February 2002, though, Frank said, switching from blue marker to red, Alexandra Madison shows up again. She pulls her UCD records and uses them to wangle her way into Trinity to do a PhD in English. We dont have a clue who this girl actually is, what she was doing before then, or how she hit on the Lexie Madison ID. We ran her prints: shes not in the system.
You might want to widen the net, I said. Theres a decent chance shes not Irish.
Frank glanced at me sharply. Whys that?
When Irish people want to hide, they dont hang around here. They go abroad. If she was Irish, shed have run into someone from her mammys bingo club inside a week.
Not necessarily. She was living a pretty isolated life.
As well as that, I said, keeping my voice level, I take after the French side. Nobody thinks Im Irish, till I open my mouth. If I didnt get my looks here, odds are neither did she.
Great, OKelly said, heavily. Undercover, DV, Immigration, the Brits, Interpol, the FBI. Anyone else who might want to join the party? The Irish Countrywomens Association? The Vincent de Paul?
Any chance of getting an ID off her teeth? Sam asked. Or a country, even? Cant you tell where dental work was done?
The young woman in question had excellent teeth, Cooper said. I am not, of course, a specialist in the field, but she had no fillings, crowns, extractions or other readily identifiable work.
Frank arched an inquiring eyebrow at me. I gave him my best puzzled look.
The two bottom front teeth overlap slightly, Cooper said, and one top molar is significantly misaligned, implying that she had no orthodontic work done as a child. I would hazard that the possibility of dental identification is practically nonexistent. Sam shook his head, frustrated, and went back to his notebook.
Frank was still eyeballing me, and it was getting on my nerves. I shoved myself off the wall, opened my mouth wide at him and pointed at my teeth. Cooper and OKelly gave me identical horrified looks.
No, I dont have fillings, I told Frank. See? Not that it matters anyway.
Good girl, Frank said approvingly. Keep flossing.
"Thats lovely, Maddox, OKelly said. Thanks for sharing. So in autumn of 2002 Alexandra Madison goes into Trinity, and in April 2005 she turns up murdered outside Glenskehy. Do we know what she was doing in between?
Sam stirred and looked up, put down his pen. Her PhD, mostly, he said. Something to do with women writers and pseudonyms; I didnt understand the whole of it. She was doing grand, her supervisor saysa bit behind schedule, but what she came up with was good. Up until September she was living in a bedsit off the South Circular Road. She paid her way with student loans, grants, and by working in the English department and in Caffeine, in town. She had no known criminal activity, no debts except the loan for her college fees, no dodgy activity on her bank account, no addictions, no boyfriend or ex-boyfriendCooper raised an eyebrowno enemies and no recent arguments.
So no motive, Frank said musingly, to the whiteboard, and no suspects.
Her main associates, Sam said evenly, were a bunch of other postgrads: Daniel March, Abigail Stone, Justin Mannering and Raphael Hyland.
Bloody silly name, said OKelly. He a poof, or a Brit? Cooper closed his eyes briefly in distaste, like a cat.
Hes half English, Sam said; OKelly gave a smug little grunt. Daniel has two speeding tickets, Justin has one, apart from that theyre all clean as a whistle. They dont know Lexie was using an aliasor if they do, theyve said nothing. According to them, she was estranged from her family and didnt like talking about her past. They dont even know where she was from; Abby thinks maybe Galway, Justin thinks Dublin, Daniel gave me a snotty look and told me that wasnt really of interest to him. Theyre the same about her family. Justin thinks her parents were dead, Rafe says divorced, Abby says she was illegitimate . . ."
Or maybe none of the above, Frank said. We already know our girl wasnt above telling a few little white ones.
Sam nodded. In September, Daniel inherited Whitethorn House near Glenskehy from his great-uncle, Simon March, and they all moved in. Last Wednesday night, the five of them were home, playing poker. Lexie got knocked out first and went for a walk around half past elevenlate-night walks were a regular part of her routine, the areas safe, the rain hadnt started in yet, the others didnt think twice. They finished up a little after midnight and went to bed. They all describe the card game the same way, who won how much on what handlittle differences here and there, but thats only natural. Weve interviewed all of them several times, and they havent budged an inch. Either theyre innocent or theyre dead organized.
And the next morning, Frank said, finishing off the timeline with a flourish, she shows up dead.
Sam pulled a handful of papers out of the pile on his desk, went to the whiteboard and stuck something in one corner: a surveyors map of a patch of countryside, detailed down to the last house and boundary fence, marked with neat Xs and squiggles in colored highlighter. Heres Glenskehy village. Whitethorn House is just under a mile to the south. Here, about halfway in between and a little to the east, thats the derelict cottage where we found our girl. Ive marked all the obvious routes she might have taken to get there. The Bureau and the uniforms are still searching them: nothing yet. According to her mates, she always went out the back gate for her walk, wandered around the little lanes for an hour or soits a maze of them, all around thereand came home either by the front or by the back, depending on what route took her fancy.
In the middle of the night? OKelly wanted to know. Was she mental, or what?
She always took the torch we found on her, Sam said, unless the night was bright enough to see without. She was mad for the old walks, went out almost every night; even if it was lashing rain, she most
ly just bundled up warm and went anyway. I wouldnt say its exercise she was after, more privacyliving that close with the other four, its the only time she got to herself. They dont know whether she ever went to the cottage, but they did say she liked it. Just after they first moved in, the five of them spent a day wandering all round Glenskehy, getting the lie of the land. When they spotted the cottage, Lexie wouldnt move on till shed gone in and had a look around, even though the others told her the farmer would probably be out with his shotgun any minute. She liked that it had been left there, even though no one was using itDaniel said she likes inefficiency, whatever that means. So we cant rule out the possibility that it was a regular stop on her walks.
Definitely not Irish, then, or at least not brought up here. Famine cottages are all over the countryside, we barely even see them any more. Its only touristsand mostly tourists from newer countries, America, Australiawho look at them long enough to feel their weight.
Sam found another piece of paper to add to the whiteboard: a floor plan of the cottage, with a neat, tiny scale at the bottom. However she ended up there, he said, pressing the last corner into place, thats where she diedagainst this wall, in what were calling the outer room. Sometime after death and before rigor set in, she was moved to the inner room. Thats where she was found, early Thursday morning.
He gestured to Cooper.
Cooper had been gazing into space, in a lofty trance. He took his time: cleared his throat primly, glanced around to make sure he had everyones full attention. The victim, he said, was a healthy white female, five feet five inches in height, a hundred and twenty pounds. No scars, tattoos or other identifying marks. She had a blood alcohol content of .03, consistent with drinking two to three glasses of wine a few hours previously. The toxicology screen was otherwise clearat the time of death she had consumed no drugs, toxins or medications. All organs were within normal limits; I found no defects or signs of disease. The epiphyses of the long bones are completely fused and the inner sutures of the skull bones show early signs of fusion, placing her age around the late twenties. It is clear from the pelvis that she has never delivered a child. He reached for his water glass and took a judicious sip, but I knew he wasnt finished; the pause was for effect. Cooper had something up his sleeve.
He put down the glass, aligning it neatly in the corner of the desk. She was, however, he said, in the early stages of pregnancy. He sat back and watched the impact.
Ah, Jesus, Sam said softly. Frank leaned back against the wall and whistled, one long low note. OKelly rolled his eyes.
That was all this case needed. I wished I had had the sense to sit down. Any of her mates mention this? I asked.
Not a one, Frank said, and Sam shook his head. Our girl kept her friends close and her secrets closer.
She might not even have known, I said. If her cycle wasnt regular
"Ah, Jaysus, Maddox, said OKelly, horrified. We dont want to hear about that carry-on. Put it in a report or something.
"Any chance of IDing the father through DNA? Sam asked.
I see no reason why not, Cooper said, given a sample from the putative father. The embryo was approximately four weeks old and just under half a centimeter long, and was
"Christ, said OKelly; Cooper smirked. Skip the bloody details and get on with it. Howd she die?
Cooper left a loud pause, to show everyone that he wasnt taking orders from OKelly. At some point on Wednesday night, he said, when he figured his point was made, she suffered a single stab wound to the right chest. The probability is that the attack came from the front: the angle and point of entry would be difficult to achieve from behind the victim. I found slight abrasions to both palms and one knee, consistent with a fall on hard ground, but no defensive wounds. The weapon was a blade at least three inches long, with a single edge, a sharp point and no distinctive featuresit could have been any large pocketknife, even a sharp kitchen knife. This blade entered on the midclavicular line at the level of the eighth rib, at an upward angle, and nicked the lung, leading to a tension pneumothorax. To put it as simply as possiblehe threw OKelly a snide sidelong glancethe blade created a flap valve in the lung. Each time she inhaled, air escaped from the lung into the pleural space; when she exhaled, the flap closed, leaving the air trapped. Prompt medical attention could almost certainly have saved her. In the absence of such attention, however, the air gradually accumulated, compressing the other thoracic organs within the chest cavity. Eventually the heart was no longer able to fill with blood, and she died.
There was a tiny silence, only the soft hum of the fluorescents. I thought of her in that cold ruined house, with night birds keening above her and rain gentle all around, dying of breathing.
How long would that have taken? Frank asked.
The progression would depend on a variety of factors, Cooper said. If, for example, the victim ran for any distance after being stabbed, her breathing would have accelerated and deepened, hastening the development of the tension pneumothorax. The blade also left a minute nick in one of the major veins of the chest; with activity, this nick grew into a tear, and she would gradually have begun to bleed quite heavily. To give a tentative estimate, I would guess that she became unconscious approximately twenty to thirty minutes after receiving the injury, and died perhaps ten or fifteen minutes later.
In that half hour, Sam asked, how far could she have got?
I am not a medium, Detective, Cooper said sweetly. Adrenaline can have fascinating effects on the human body, and there is evidence that the victim was in fact in a state of considerable emotion. The presence of cadaveric spasmin this case, the hands contracting into fists at the moment of death and remaining clenched through rigor mortisis generally associated with extreme emotional stress. If she was sufficiently motivated, which under the circumstances I would imagine she was, a mile or so would not be out of the question. Alternatively, of course, she could have collapsed within yards.
OK, Sam said. He found a highlighter pen on someones desk and drew a wide circle around the cottage on the map, taking in the village and Whitethorn House and acres of empty hillside. So our primary crime scene could be anywhere in here.
Wouldnt she have been in too much pain to get far? I asked. I felt Franks eyes flick to me. We dont ask whether victims suffered. Unless they were actually tortured, we dont need to know: getting emotionally involved does nothing except wreck your objectivity and give you nightmares, and were going to tell the family it was painless anyway.
Restrain your imagination, Detective Maddox, Cooper told me. A tension pneumothorax is often relatively painless. She would have been aware of mounting shortness of breath and an increased heart rate; as shock set in, her skin would have become cold and clammy and she would have felt light-headed, but there is no reason to suppose that she was in excruciating agony.
How much force went into the stabbing? Sam asked. Could anyone have done it, or would it take a big strong fella?
Cooper sighed. We always ask: could a scrawny guy have done it? What about a woman? A kid? How big a kid? The shape of the wound on cross section, he said, combined with the lack of splitting in the skin at the entry point, implies a blade with a fairly sharp tip. It did not encounter bone or cartilage at any point. Assuming a fairly swift lunge, I would say that this injury could have been inflicted by a large man, a small man, a large woman, a small woman, or a strong pubescent child. Does that answer your question?
Sam shut up. Time of death? OKelly demanded.
Between eleven and one oclock, said Cooper, examining a cuticle. As I believe my preliminary report stated.
We can narrow it down a bit, Sam said. He found a marker and started a new timeline under Franks. Rainfall in that area started about ten past midnight, and the Bureaus guessing
she was out in it for fifteen or twenty minutes max, from the degree of dampness, so she was moved into shelter by around half past twelve. And she was dead by then. Going by what Dr. Cooper says, that puts the actual stabbing no later than midnight, probably earlierId say she was well on the way to unconscious before the rain started in, or shed have gone into shelter. If the housemates are telling the truth about her leaving the house unharmed at half past eleven, then that gives us a half-hour window for the stabbing. If theyre lying or mistaken, it couldve been anywhere between ten and twelve.
And that, Frank said, swinging a leg over his chair, is all weve got. No footprints and no blood trailthe rain got rid of all that. No fingerprints: someone went through her pockets and then wiped down all her stuff. Nothing good under her fingernails, according to the Bureau; looks like she didnt get a go at the killer. Theyre going through the trace, but on preliminary theres nothing that stands out. All the hairs and fibers look like matching either her, her housemates or various stuff from the house, which means they dont cut either way. Were still searching the area, but so far weve got no sign of the murder weapon and no sign of an ambush site or a struggle. Basically, what we have is one dead girl and thats it.
