“Shut up!” he ordered her. “If you keep digging you’re going to be in real trouble.” Another pause. “OK, Jess, have I understood you right? You’ve got some film of Madeleine abusing your friend and some kind of admission that she also abused her mother. In return for keeping that under wraps, you want her to approve the sale of Barton House. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And if she refuses you’ll release her to say whatever she likes, then you’ll send out copies of the DVD to anyone who’s interested.”
“Yes.”
Madeleine tried again. “They won’t be able—”
“Shut up!” A longer silence. “Can I talk to the other woman? Is it Connie? What do you really want?”
“Exactly what Jess has told you. Madeleine can approve the sale or she can explain the DVD. It’s up to her. Either way she won’t be able to stay in Winterbourne Barton. She’s given too many details of how you and she terrorized Lily.”
“That’s a lie,” Madeleine called out. “I said hardly any—”
“Jesus!” Nathaniel shouted down the line, showing real anger suddenly. “Will you keep your mouth shut? I’m damned if I’ll let you drag me into this. There’s only one devil in this family…and we all know who that is.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“You say one more thing, Madeleine, and I’ll hang up. Do you understand?” He let a beat pass. “OK,” he went on more calmly, “I want to hear what you’ve got, Jess.”
“You don’t have time for it all,” she told him, “so I’ve keyed in the seven minutes that matter. You’ll hear Connie’s voice at the beginning saying: ‘You know, what really surprises me,’ then—”
Nathaniel cut across her. “How come you’ve already keyed it in?”
“I knew you’d ask for it.”
“How do I know it hasn’t been edited?”
“No time, but in any case I ran a clock on the three cameras. For the DVD, I’ll do a split screen to show the action synchronized.” She pointed to the bottom right-hand corner of the screen. “I’m showing Madeleine the digital numbers so that she can tell you if any of them are out of sequence.” She clicked her mouse. “Running now.”
Madeleine and I went through our motions again on screen, but, to me, the more I saw the clip, the less convincing it became. Madeleine won hands-down on the photogenic front. Even at her most furious, she remained elegant and pretty, and it was hard to believe that her Jasper Conran designer shoes were doing any damage at all. I just looked ridiculous. Why hadn’t I fought back instead of allowing myself to be kicked?
I don’t know if Jess was aware of my dejection, but when the clip ended she spoke before anyone else could. “The images are graphic and don’t flatter your wife, Nathaniel. She’s enjoying it too much. If I decide to run the fight in slow-motion, which I will for the DVDs, it’ll be even more obvious. No one’ll believe she didn’t do the same thing to Lily. You said she’s done it to the kid.”
“That’s a lie,” Madeleine shouted.
Jess glanced at her briefly then leaned towards the telephone speaker. “Was it, Nathaniel? You told me you can never leave her alone with Hugo…which is why he never comes to Dorset with her. Is that true or not?”
We all heard him take an audible breath through his nose. “True.”
“Liar!” Madeleine stormed. “Don’t you try and blame—”
Nathaniel cut in again. “I had nothing to do with any of this, Jess. You’ve got to believe that. My only involvement was to pass on what you told me about the power of attorney and phone Madeleine when I picked up your message about social services.”
“Connie thinks you came down the night I found Lily.”
“No. The last time I came down was when I spoke to you in November. Hugo and I didn’t see Madeleine at all for most of December and January. We thought she was looking after Lily—it’s what she said she was doing—playing the dutiful daughter in the hopes of reversing the power of attorney. If I’d guessed—” he broke off abruptly. “Lily was supposed to die of hypothermia that night, Jess. Madeleine was furious when you turned up and took her away.”
There was a short silence.
Jess stirred herself. “She was here? She was watching?”
“All the time.”
“Staying in the house?”
“Yes. She couldn’t abandon Lily completely. Anyone could have arrived out of the blue, and there’d have been hell to pay if they’d found Lily drinking from the fishpond. Madeleine switched the water on and off as it suited her…sometimes Lily had water…sometimes she didn’t…the same with the lights.”
“He’s lying,” Madeleine said. “It’s all lies.”
“She made Lily take cold baths, then locked her in her room in the dark. The only thing she couldn’t turn on and off at will was the Aga, so she booked herself into a hotel some nights to have a bath and a decent meal. That’s when Lily got out and went looking for help in the village.”
There was a horrible logic to it. “Why did no one see Madeleine?” I asked.
“Because she was only going to show herself if someone came to the door. Her story would have been that she’d just arrived and discovered Lily in extremis. It never happened.” He gave a hollow laugh. “She said it wouldn’t. She said if her mother died, the body would lie in the house for weeks until Jess went in.”
I glanced at Jess’s bent head. “Why didn’t she show herself when Jess found Lily outside?”
“Too scared. She’d parked her car in the garage at the back so that no one would see it…and she never did that normally. In any case, the house was in darkness, and she had no explanation for why she hadn’t turned on the lights to look for her mother as soon as she arrived.” He paused. “You let her off the hook by taking Lily to the farm, Jess. If you’d stayed and called an ambulance, Madeleine would have been trapped in the house.”
When Jess didn’t say anything, Nathaniel spoke again. “I can’t see her being prosecuted for it. It’s maybe what you want but”—he faltered briefly as if deciding how honest to be—“I don’t think you’d be doing this if you had any real evidence.”
“We do now,” I said. “You’ve filled in the gaps.”
“I can’t swear to any of it—I wasn’t there—and Madeleine will deny it. I’ve only said as much as I have because I’m hoping you’ll back off for Hugo’s sake.” He appealed to Jess. “You know what’ll happen if you go public, Jess. Madeleine will accuse everyone but herself—me included—and the only person who’ll suffer will be the child. I really don’t want that.”
“If I go straight to the police—” Madeleine began.
“You’ll be screwed,” he told her harshly. “Can’t you see that? Whatever you do, you’ll be screwed. If you try to justify yourself in advance, Jess will quietly dispose of the film and leave you to hang yourself on your own…and if you call her bluff, and she sends it out, you’ll be in the police station with her answering questions. Maybe she and Connie will get done for blackmail but it’s nothing to what’ll happen to you if you can’t keep your stupid trap shut.”
Jess raised her head. “It’s not blackmail if we only show it to the police,” she said. “It’s evidence.” She looked at me with troubled eyes. “What should I do? I’m not sure anymore.”
Neither was I. The idea had been to give Jess some leverage over Madeleine so that she could be rid of the woman with a clear conscience. Lily’s will would allow Madeleine to inherit the money eventually, and none of the history of the two families need ever come out. We also hoped we could scare her back to London without talking to Bagley. There was a canvas bag and a DVD that I’d successfully hidden from the police—both of which I regarded as my private property—but, in any case, I resented the idea that my story might be handed to a woman who would certainly sell it, or use it to enhance her standing. She’d drop my name and the details of my captivity all over London if she thought it would earn her some kudos.
J
ess had been sceptical when I proposed the idea the previous evening. “Even if she does say something damaging, she’ll never agree to the sale of Barton House. What do we do then? I don’t mind filming her and threatening her with blackmail”—her eyes lit with mischief—“I’ll even enjoy it—but we can’t do it for real. She’ll be into Bagley’s office like a rat down a drainpipe.”
“Then you’ll have to come clean about Lily’s will,” I said cheerfully. “Just give her an hour of hell before you do it. Think of it as Lily’s revenge. Yours, too, if you like. At least let Madeleine know what you think of her before you hand her a million and a half quid on a plate. Personally, I’d rather see you inherit this house—I’m sure it’s what Lily wanted—but there’ll be no keeping quiet about the Derbyshire–Wright connection if you do.”
Neither of us had expected to hear revelations of attempted murder. Jess had felt she could live with the knowledge of absentee cruelty and neglect—“It’s what Madeleine’s been doing all her life”—but that was a far cry from sending a confused old lady into the cold and standing idly by while she succumbed to hypothermia. What stuck in my throat more than anything was the idea that Madeleine might profit from what she’d done.
I reached across Jess for the mouse and double-clicked on the live feeds. “Are they off?”
“Yes.”
“OK.” I put my thoughts in order. “I don’t think my conscience will let me do this, Jess. Madeleine’s dangerous. For all I know, her creep of a husband is as well. If he was truly interested in protecting his child, he’d have reported her himself. What if she has another go at Lily? Could you live with that…because I certainly couldn’t.”
“No.”
“We have to report her.”
“I know.” She sighed. “But who to? Bagley?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “We can do what Lily would have done…send everything to her solicitor and let him decide.”
The angry protests that erupted simultaneously from Madeleine and Nathaniel sent Jess reaching for an envelope. It seemed they were considerably more worried about the man who held the purse strings than they were about the police.
From:
[email protected]
Sent:
Thur 26/08/04 10:12
To:
[email protected]
Subject:
Your extraordinary resilience
* * *
Dear Connie,
I’m impressed by your resilience, though not as impressed as Nick Bagley seems to be. After what you’ve been through, he’s astonished by your determination to stay put and carry on. I explained that you’ve been in worse situations and survived them but with MacKenzie still on the loose, Nick feels you should be more afraid. Your response appears to be “out of character for a woman.” I might have cast aspersions against Dorset ladies, but he says your friend Jess is being equally bullish.
I’ve had several conservations with Nick re MacKenzie’s disappearance. He tells me there’ve been a number of sightings across the south-west although none is reliable. He’s interested in MacKenzie’s alleged SAS training (still to be corroborated) and asked if I thought it possible/likely that the man never left Winterbourne Valley. I said I thought it unlikely as I understand the entire area was swept twice and no trace of him was found. I hope I’m correct, Connie. If not, please take extra precautions. The consequences could be extremely serious for you if MacKenzie is still in the vicinity.
I was sorry to hear that one of Jess’s mastiffs died trying to protect you. It’s not a breed I know much about except that they’re large and extremely powerful. Nick tells me the “Hound of the Baskervilles” was a mastiff—he referred to it as “a huge beast that hunted men and ripped their throats out”—and I know he views Jess’s pack with the same alarm. He keeps a close eye on them, although he’s surprised they’re now confined to their enclosure when Jess’s previous routine was to exercise them daily across her land.
Finally, Nick is surprised that you didn’t destroy the DVD of your captivity when you had the chance. From the concerns you expressed both to me and Dr. Coleman about being filmed (and Dr. Coleman’s description of what he saw), Nick wonders why you seem so indifferent to the fact MacKenzie still has it. I presume you aren’t, and that you’re still anxious about it?
Yours as ever,
Alan
DI Alan Collins, Greater Manchester Police
From:
[email protected]
Sent:
Fri 27/08/04 08:30
To:
[email protected]
Subject:
My extraordinary resilience
* * *
Dear Alan,
Thank you. I deeply appreciate the thoughts behind your email.
So…for your reassurance…
Nick Bagley would have been no less suspicious if Jess and I had folded ourselves into heaps and demanded 24-hour protection. Peter Coleman’s evidence about our courage was so OTT that a sudden collapse afterwards would have looked very odd. We can only be what we are, Alan, and there was no sense assuming different personas to satisfy Bagley’s view of how women ought to behave. You know very well I could have kept up a sham for as long as I liked—I’ve done it successfully in the past—but Jess is too honest.
I took your Thucydides quote to heart. “The secret of happiness is freedom; the secret of freedom, courage.” I’ve tried to explain to Bagley that merely confronting MacKenzie was a liberation. I saw him for what he was—not what my imagination had made of him—and I’m a great deal happier for it. I can’t, and won’t, pretend a fear I don’t feel anymore. Bagley’s given me a panic alarm, but I’m sure MacKenzie won’t come back. He seemed far more frightened of me that night than I was of him.
In so far as anyone can guarantee anything, I guarantee that MacKenzie is NOT in the valley. Dorset police searched it twice from end to end, and there was no sign of him on either occasion. He may have holed up somewhere else but I’m sure the more likely explanation is that he left the country under a different passport. He seems to have unlimited access to them.
FYI, Dan has requested a filter on all Reuters files to pull out anything relating to unexplained murders, so if MacKenzie starts again somewhere else we may be able to spot him.
Re the Hound of the Baskervilles. Conan Doyle describes it as a mastiff/bloodhound cross, the size of a small lioness with phosphorous flames dripping from its jaws (!), and trust me, even Bagley’s interesting imagination would have trouble embroidering Jess’s soft-mouthed mutts into anything so exciting. It’s true you can’t move when they sit on you, but their favourite occupation is to drool saliva into your lap not grab you by the throat and shake you. She’s keeping them in for the moment because Bertie’s buried in the top field and she’s worried they’ll dig him up. Once the turf has grown over the grave, they won’t be interested. She explained this to Bagley but, unfortunately, it seems to have made him more suspicious.
Re the DVD. It never occurred to me to destroy it. Am I still anxious about it? No. If I’m honest, I’m rather proud of it. I even wish Bagley could see it. It might help him to understand why I’m so jubilant about taking MacKenzie on a second time. As a wise man once said: “Winning is everything.”
You’ve been a good friend, Alan, and I hope I’ve set your mind at rest. In passing, if I ever do kill MacKenzie I won’t bother to hide his body. There’ll be no point if I can hack him to death in the hall with a blunt axe and plead self-defence. Maybe I should have done it when I had the chance!
With my love and thanks,
Connie
23
I DIDN’T KNOW THEN if Madeleine kept her appointment with Inspector Bagley. If she did, he never referred to it. He fell into the habit of dropping in unexpectedly, both at Barton House and Barton Farm, sometimes making two or three visits in a day. He usually found me working at my computer, but invariably missed Jess, w
ho was out in her fields, bringing in a late harvest after one of the wettest summers for years.
On several occasions she discovered his car in her drive and the man himself poking around in her outhouses, but she took it all in good part, even though he didn’t have a search warrant. She told him he was welcome any time, and suggested he keep checking the back garden so that he could satisfy himself the only bones there were beef bones. Her dogs lost their suspicion of him once they learnt the sound of his engine, but he never lost his suspicion of them.
I, too, remained wary around them. Some phobias aren’t susceptible to logic. I could cope with one dog at a time but the four en masse still alarmed me. It was clear they missed Bertie. Outside, they patrolled their wire enclosure looking for him, and, inside, sat by doors, watching for his return. Jess said they’d do it for a month before they forgot him, but Bagley didn’t believe her.
“They’re not waiting for the other dog to return,” he told me one morning, “they’re trying to get out.” He was standing behind me, reading what was on my computer screen, a complicated paragraph on post-traumatic stress statistics. “You haven’t got very far with that, Ms. Burns. You’ve only added one sentence since last night.”
I clicked “save” and pushed my chair back, narrowly missing his foot. “It would go a lot faster if you didn’t keep coming in and breaking my train of thought,” I told him mildly. “Can’t you ring the doorbell once in a while? At least give me a chance to pretend I’m out.”
The Devil`s Feather Page 31
