Madeleine
I met Madeleine* at McDonald's one day in January of 1993, where she worked as a cashier. She was wiping down trays and staring through her glasses at her reflection on the counter. It was a late Saturday afternoon.
"Hello, how are you? My name is Madeleine," she said to me.
"I am fine. How are you? Do you have any mayonnaise? There is only ketchup here," I asked.
I rarely ate McDonald's but I was desperate for a McChicken. The sandwich was dry and there was little mayonnaise on the bun to offset the texture. Disappointed, I looked around for condiments. My figure was kept slender by a low-calorie diet and lots of walking, yoga, and weight. Madeleine was naturally thin. Her dark blue eyes lit up as she spoke. She smiled her perfect smile and her crooked glasses nearly fell off her nose.
"If you are looking for mayonnaise, we have McChicken sauce. It costs twenty cents per package," she offered as she fluttered her eye lashes.
"That's fine. I can go without," I said, hoping she would hand one over.
"Here is some sweet and sour sauce," she offered.
"Madeleine! Stop giving out the sweet and sour sauce for free! It costs ten cents a pack!" Kelly the manager yelled.
The story I heard from Peter Auld and Chad Baker was that Madeleine had fought with Elaine on the roof of the apartment complex behind the Willow Park Church. I also heard that she had pushed Elaine off the roof of a condo complex on Gaggon Road. I had met her in April of 1993 at a first floor walk-out on Gaggon Road. The location apparently had a pool behind the condo complex.
I suspected the location was Gaggon Road, since that was where Elaine lived and it was easy to park a car in front of the building. The building was two stories tall. Auld and Baker insisted the building Elaine fell from was three stories high, with a pool behind the back. Both buildings previously had pools that had been filled with cement and closed up. It was hard to say which building was the one Elaine fell off of.
Auld and Baker were certain that Madeleine had fought with Elaine for several minutes until she pushed her off the roof. I had heard the story before, from several friends and acquaintances of mine, including Mark*, an off-and-on boyfriend/dealer of Madeleine's who studied engineering at Okanagan College.
Madeleine had been detained by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in 1993 in regards to this matter as well as her involvement in prostitution, grand theft auto, and shoplifting. Her high-powered lawyers from a top Vancouver firm as well as her wealthy parents had successfully stopped further detainments, charges, and questioning.
I knew the method by which they worked: enabling Madeleine was their way of covering up her behaviours and their own bad parenting. They were enablers who spoiled their daughter with money and ignored her. Rules did not apply. Madeleine was the devil's trick; thou shalt do what thou wilt.
Elaine had apparently fallen from the roof, cracked her skull, and ended up in a coma. She died a few days later. I was not at this party and never saw the event. I was uncertain how and if Madeleine was involved. For a few years, I resisted the urge to contact the police. All I had was second-hand information. I told the witnesses at the party Elaine died at to inform the local police if they were so convinced it was her. Most of them were too afraid to do so.
I was uncertain what they were afraid of, except for perhaps Madeleine's connections to local bikers and dealers. She had a habit of seeking out dealers for boyfriends. Sucking their dicks and dating them gave her access to a social underworld of drug distribution and partying that she was dying to join. Her motivation was not financial; she had a $500,000 trust fund that she had inherited from her paternal grandmother, a $1.2 million investment portfolio, a $700,000 condo, and $900,000 cabin. Her parents had made certain her existence was as padded and comfortable as possible.
Her favorite drug was prescription codeine; she only went to parties to get shot on morphine or to drink a keg of beer. Beer was the only drink I knew her to gorge on. Wine did not appeal to her; she never drank it. Hard liquor was used for making drinks for others. For someone who tried every drug and had an unbelievably high tolerance for angel dust, amphetamines, and barbiturates, she hardly tolerated hard liquor. Beer was another matter; she often spent her weekends alone with her Nirvana records and two flats of beer.
There were different versions of Madeleine; sometimes she appeared decked in Calvin Klein underwear hanging underneath oversized Tommy Hilfiger outfits; other times she wore bellbottoms, t-shirts, and platform heels; at other times, she wore designer dresses with pantyhose and Chelsea boots. At other times, she even wore men's oversized denim overalls on top of Garage hoodies or band t-shirts with jean cut-offs and Aussie Doc Martens. I never really knew which of the five personalities I would encounter.
There was little consistency in terms of her personality. I was uncertain what she suffered from. Borderline personality, bipolar disorder, dissociative personality disorder, and split personality were all suggested. I am not a psychiatrist, but I always thought she was a histrionic. Madeleine was superficial, overly emotional with flat moods, and constantly in search of attention. She was vindictive when she didn't get her way or someone rejected her, which was rare. Unfamiliar with the notion of rejection, she did not take kindly to those who did not do what she wanted. Perhaps it was herself the witnesses were afraid of.
The reputation of her lawyers and parents may have scared them off as well. They refused to let anyone prosecute her, make accusations, issue a fine, impose a restriction, or take her to court. I think they were embarrassed. It was not surprising that Madeleine's real name meant 'one who is like God.' She certainly acted that way, courtesy of her parents' attitudes and constant redemption.
Madeleine was the type of person who functioned better on drugs than not on drugs. Sobriety was never her thing. Nothing really scared her into it. Perhaps her only fear was HIV. She hesitated to make a habit of getting shot up with morphine, owing to the risk factors. Three of our friends would go on to die from HIV; none of them were drug users. A previous boyfriend of hers had slept around with many prostitutes in Asia, only to infect two of his male lovers and one of his mistresses. He had been married at the time as well to two different Asiatic women, Eileen from Hong Kong, and Yumiko from Hokkaido, Japan. I have no idea if they were ever aware of his cheating and HIV status, as neither of them spoke any English and refused to speak to anyone who was not from their home countries. It is quite possible they were infected and never got tested; this means when they left Lemmy* for their home countries with their children by him, they may have taken the undetected, active, and untreated virus with them. I have no idea where they are now.
(* Name has been changed to protect identity)