What They Knew

by Marion Todd

  ‘Ooh, he’s nice,’ Sara said, taking the mouse from Zoe. ‘You should send him a thumbs-up.’

  Zoe peered at the photo. It showed an attractive man, dark-haired with designer stubble. It was hard to see from the thumbnail but he looked as if he might be athletic. ‘Stoneman,’ she said.

  ‘Why is he called that?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Sometimes folk don’t want to use their own names. See…’ Zoe jabbed her profile picture at the top of the screen. ‘I’m ZoeM. But I could have called myself anything.’ She turned to Clare. ‘I can sort you out with a profile, if you want? Get you fixed up in no time.’

  Clare laughed. ‘Nah, you’re all right. I’ll leave you to drool over… what’s his name?’

  ‘Stoneman,’ they said, in unison.

  ‘Happy drooling.’

  Chapter 14

  It was mid-afternoon by the time Neil Grant phoned.

  ‘Okay, Clare. The first thing is that Alison Reid also had Rohypnol in her system.’

  Clare swore under her breath. She’d been hoping the drug was a one-off. ‘Any alcohol?’

  ‘A little – not as much as the other one.’

  ‘Did she drown?’

  ‘I doubt it. There are none of the indicators I mentioned. And this is where it gets complicated.’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Have you heard of the vagus nerve, Clare?’

  ‘In the neck? Yes but… oh…’

  ‘See where I’m going?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Applying the correct amount of pressure at the right spot on the neck can stop the heart for a short time. Now, ordinarily that wouldn’t be sufficient to cause death. But if the airway is also constricted…’

  ‘…as in strangulation…’

  ‘…quite – the result would be a quicker death. The combination of what we call the vagal inhibition, coupled with compression of the airway, hastens collapse, then death. The result is less bruising round the neck. We also see less petechial haemorrhaging.’

  ‘What about Ingrid McKinnie?’

  ‘The same. To be honest, Clare, if I hadn’t had the two deaths so close together I might not have picked it up. Drowning is often given as a cause of death in the absence of other indicators. But it can be difficult to be absolutely sure.’

  ‘And the Rohypnol?’

  ‘My guess is the killer administered it to make it easier to overpower the victims.’

  ‘Would it have taken great strength? Big hands?’

  ‘No. Not with the pressure on the vagus nerve. The combination of the drug plus interrupting the heartbeat would have made it easier to constrict the airway.’

  Clare was silent for a moment, considering this. Then she said, ‘Would it require medical knowledge?’

  ‘Probably. If it was just one death I’d say it could be down to luck. A fluke. But two victims so close together – I reckon your killer knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘Or she.’

  ‘Quite. Anyway, that’s the gist of it, Clare. My report will be up on the system by the end of the day but I thought I’d give you a heads-up.’

  Clare thanked Neil and ended the call. In the outer office Chris was tapping away at a computer, compiling the crime reports. ‘Chris?’

  Something in her tone made him look up. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Post-mortem for Alison Reid, that’s what. Come into my office.’

  Clare closed the door behind Chris and perched on the edge of her desk. ‘We’ve a double murder on our hands.’

  ‘Alison and Ingrid?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘So… were they drowned?’

  ‘Nothing so straightforward.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘They were strangled.’

  Chris’s eyes narrowed. ‘But there was hardly any bruising.’

  ‘That’s because the killer knew to press on the vagus nerve.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘It’s a nerve that can be stimulated to regulate the heartbeat, by pressing on the side of the neck.’

  Chris’s eyes flicked back and forward as he tried to process this. ‘When you say regulate the heartbeat…’

  ‘Our killer knew exactly where to press and how much pressure to use to stop the heart altogether. The victims would collapse within a few seconds allowing the killer to tighten their grip, constricting the airway.’

  Chris stared. ‘So… it’s like a gentle way of strangling someone?’

  ‘I suppose you could put it like that. And the Rohypnol would make it even easier.’

  ‘So it could have been a woman.’

  ‘That’s a bit sexist, Chris. But, yes – it wouldn’t have to be a six-foot rugby player. But it would have to be someone who knew exactly where to press.’

  ‘So… someone with medical knowledge?’

  ‘I think so. Neil said it’s where you feel for the neck pulse. But you’d have to press a bit harder to stop the heart. I doubt anyone with basic first aid training would know that.’

  Chris pulled out a chair and sank down. After a moment he said, ‘Could it be accidental? The killer just happened to be at the right angle?’

  ‘Once, maybe. But Neil says the two deaths coming so close together makes that unlikely. Plus, Alison Reid had Rohypnol in her system too.’

  ‘Shit. I don’t like the sound of this.’

  ‘Nor me. So the first thing we have to do is to establish if the two women knew each other. They’re local and the same age, so can you start with the council Education Department please? See if they went to the same schools? I’ll check if we have Ingrid McKinnie’s laptop and phone records. And we’ll have to go over Ingrid’s house too.’

  ‘What about Miles Sharp?’

  Clare considered this. ‘I’m starting to think we jumped the gun there. Unless it turns out he knew Ingrid McKinnie as well.’

  ‘Did you believe him when he said the last time he saw Alison was at the supermarket?’

  Clare looked at Chris. ‘Nope. Did you?’

  ‘No. I reckon he’s hiding something.’

  Clare slipped off the edge of the desk. ‘Right, then. Let’s pay him a call.’

  Chris checked his watch. ‘You are remembering…’

  ‘Your appointment, yes. I’ve not forgotten. So get moving and call the Education Department while I check if we have a laptop and phone for Ingrid.’

  * * *

  Sharp and Lafferty’s offices were in Hope Street, part of an attractive Georgian Terrace. It was a side road so the snow plough hadn’t been along but there had been enough traffic to break up the snow and Clare had little difficulty negotiating her way into a parking space opposite.

  The pavement outside the offices had been cleared of snow and a sprinkling of grit from a nearby bin applied. As they crossed the road, Clare studied the building. It was built on four levels, including a basement which could be seen through the spear-topped railings bordering the property. She noticed it was one of the few in the street which still had windows with Georgian bars. From the pavement three shallow steps led up to a substantial front door which was newly painted, with gleaming brass fittings.

  ‘Accountancy pays well,’ Chris muttered as Clare pushed open the front door.

  ‘Certainly raking in more than Crossford Financial.’

  An inner etched-glass door was locked and Clare pressed a bell. There seemed to be no intercom or buzzer and after a few seconds a young woman in an immaculately cut suit appeared and ushered them in.

  ‘Detective Inspector Clare Mackay and Detective Sergeant Chris West,’ Clare said. ‘We’d like to see Mr Sharp please.’

  The young woman frowned. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  ‘No, but we’d like to see him all the same.’

  The woman hesitated then showed them to a waiting room. ‘If you’d wait here, please.’

  The contrast with Crossford Financial was even more stark on the inside. Instead of the posters about mortgages there wer
e paintings by Scottish artists hung in deep wooden frames.

  ‘Is that one of those Vettrianos?’ Chris asked, peering at a portrait of a man in dark clothing, skating.

  ‘No, you wally. That’s a Raeburn. The Skating Minister. It’s very famous.’

  ‘Looks just like those beach paintings. Sara has one in her flat.’

  Clare was prevented from answering by the reappearance of the woman. Her expression was not encouraging and Clare prepared to do battle.

  ‘Mr Sharp can spare you five minutes,’ she said. ‘If you’d like to follow me…’

  ‘Five minutes!’ Clare said to Chris, her voice low. ‘More like fifty-five minutes, by the time I’ve finished with him.’

  ‘Remember I’ve got…’

  ‘…an appointment – yes, you said!’

  The woman led them down a broad hallway with more paintings dotted along the walls. Then she tapped softly on a door near the end of the hall. Clare heard a muffled ‘Come in’ and the woman held the door open to allow them to enter.

  Miles Sharp rose to greet them. He was more formally dressed, in a fine grey suit and a dark maroon tie knotted tightly at the neck. His face, once again, was set in a smile, of sorts, but Clare thought he looked faintly rattled. Good, she thought. That’s just how I want him.

  He went through the pretence of offering them tea and coffee which Clare declined.

  ‘I’ll get straight to the point, Mr Sharp.’ She paused for a minute, watching him closely, then said, ‘I’m afraid to tell you we believe Alison Reid was murdered.’

  Miles Sharp stared at them. He swallowed once or twice as he tried to compose himself and he reached for a glass of water. He sipped, then replaced it on the desk, dabbing at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Murdered? But how? Who would do that? Alison – she wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  Clare paused for a few seconds to let this sink in then she went on. ‘Mr Sharp. I’d like to ask you again when you last saw Alison.’

  Miles sat up in his chair. ‘Oh hold on a minute, Inspector. If I’m being accused of something then I’d like my solicitor present.’

  ‘Of course, sir. If you feel you need legal representation then I’m happy to continue this at the station, on a more formal basis.’ Clare hoped he wouldn’t realise she was bluffing. The last thing she wanted was to question Miles formally at this stage. Better to save that for when they had something concrete to throw at him.

  Miles looked down, silent for a few moments. Then he said, ‘Ask what you wish, Inspector. But I reserve the right to end this if I feel the questioning is becoming oppressive.’

  Clare saw Chris’s expression cloud and she carried on before he could say something that might inflame the situation. ‘Of course, Mr Sharp. And we’re grateful for your co-operation. So, if you could think again when it was that you last saw Alison – please?’

  Miles turned to a computer monitor on his desk and clicked the diary icon. But before he could consult it the door flew open and Cheryl burst in. She glared at Clare and Chris then went to stand beside her husband.

  ‘What’s all this about? We told you all we knew the other day.’

  Chris rose and moved round the desk to stand beside Cheryl. ‘Mrs Sharp, we would like to speak to your husband alone. If necessary we will also speak to you but, for now, you need to leave us.’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ she said, her eyes flashing. ‘No secrets between husband and wife, are there?’

  Like when you were carrying on with Alison’s husband? Clare wanted to say but didn’t.

  ‘They think Alison was murdered,’ Miles said, his voice flat.

  ‘Eh? And you’re here questioning Miles… because?’

  Chris indicated the door. ‘If you’d just like to…’

  Cheryl marched to the door. ‘This,’ she said, dramatically, ‘is not over!’

  Chris closed the door quietly behind her and resumed his seat.

  ‘Sorry…’ Miles said, ‘…she gets a bit…’

  ‘It’s understandable, Mr Sharp,’ Clare said. ‘I’m sure it’s been a shock for you both.’ She gave him a few moments to compose himself then said, ‘You were going to check your diary.’

  Miles turned back to his computer and scrolled to December. Chris moved his chair slightly, leaning over so he too could read the screen.

  Miles glanced at him then he cleared his throat. ‘It was, erm, the third of December. In the afternoon. We met for coffee.’

  ‘Where was this?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Actually, it wasn’t a café as such. I got a couple of take-out coffees and we sat in the car park at the Golf Museum. In my car…’ He broke off, glancing at Clare. Then he said, ‘Cheryl, you see – she wouldn’t like it – if she thought I was seeing Alison.’

  ‘Why did you meet?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Oh, just business, you know. Nothing much.’

  ‘Mr Sharp – as I understand it, Sharp and Lafferty and Crossford Financial offer similar services. You are, in effect, business rivals. Now I don’t wish to appear rude but I do find it a little… unlikely that you would be discussing business.’

  Miles shrugged. ‘I assure you, Inspector, that’s all it was.’

  Clare observed him for a moment then said, ‘Mr Sharp, you should know that we have downloaded emails from Alison’s laptop and we’ve found an exchange of messages between you. Maybe you could tell us the reason for these emails.’

  Miles reached for the water again, taking a few sips. Clare thought he was playing for time; deciding what to say. And then he put down the glass.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘It’s like this: Alison – she was hoping to rekindle things between us. And, well, I was trying to let her down gently. In the end, I think she accepted it. She agreed with me it was a bad idea.’

  He’s trying to recall what was in those emails, Clare thought. And he’s making a right mess of it.

  ‘I’m sure you understand, officers,’ Miles went on, ‘that I don’t wish to distress my wife with any of this. She would find it very hard…’

  Clare could just imagine Cheryl’s reaction to the news that her husband had met his ex-wife just a few weeks ago. She tried a few more questions but Miles seemed to have gathered his wits and they learned nothing further. As they turned to leave she said, ‘Oh, one more thing, Mr Sharp…’

  He stiffened. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you know an Ingrid McKinnie?’

  Miles look genuinely surprised by the question. ‘No, never heard the name. Why do you ask?’

  Clare smiled. ‘No reason. Thanks again for your help.’

  As they walked back to the car Clare said, ‘What do you reckon?’

  ‘Ingrid? I’d say he’s telling the truth.’

  Clare fished in her pocket for the car key. ‘I agree. I don’t think he recognised the name.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about Alison wanting to rekindle things, though,’ Chris said.

  ‘Yeah. I didn’t believe that either. He was obviously trying to remember what was in the emails and making it up on the spot.’ Clare clicked to unlock the car and they climbed in. ‘And I’d very much like to know why they did meet.’

  She started the engine and pulled away.

  Chris glanced at his watch. ‘Just drop me at the West Port, please.’

  She flicked a glance at him as she turned into Abbotsford Crescent. ‘What is this mysterious appointment?’

  ‘Nothing. Just an appointment.’

  ‘Hmm. Okay. Bright and early tomorrow, mind. We’ve a double murderer to find.’

  Chapter 15

  The station was quiet when Clare returned and she went straight to her office and sat down to think. She’d have to alert the DCI but, somehow, she wasn’t keen to call him. He’d been so dismissive when they’d spoken earlier. Impatient, even. And then there was Miles Sharp. What was it he and Alison had been discussing that day in his car? And, if it wasn’t connected to Alison’s death, why was he being so evasive? S
he jotted down Ingrid’s house on her notepad. They’d have to search that. Phone records too…

  A tap at the door interrupted her thinking and Jim’s head appeared. ‘Looking for Chris… oh, are you all right, Clare?’

  She glanced at him. ‘We’ve a double murder to investigate, Jim.’

  He came into the room and pulled out a chair. ‘Those two lassies?’

  Clare nodded. ‘Alison Reid and the woman found in the Kinness Burn between Christmas and new year. Both were likely strangled but by someone who knew what they were doing – pressure on a particular point on the neck stops the heart. Leads to a quicker death. Oh, and both had been drugged with Rohypnol.’

  ‘God almighty, Clare. You’ll be needing extra troops, then, I’m guessing?’

  ‘I will, Jim. Look, I need to call the DCI and work out our next steps. Could you give Dundee and Cupar a bell please? See who they can spare. I’ll do a briefing at eight tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Aye, no bother. Anything else I can do?’

  Clare smiled. ‘Thanks, Jim. It’s a great help knowing you’re in my corner. Once I’ve ordered my thoughts we’ll talk again.’

  As Jim made for the door Clare remembered he’d been looking for Chris. ‘Sorry, Jim – you wanted Chris?’

  ‘Just a phone message from Rothesay House.’ He saw Clare’s expression. ‘The Education Department. He was asking about the two women?’

  ‘Oh yes – of course. What did they say?’

  ‘Both in the same year at school.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep. Primary school, at least. Different secondaries, though.’

  ‘Got the details?’

  Jim handed her a piece of paper. ‘The phone number of the education officer’s there if you need anything else.’

  Clare smiled her thanks and Jim closed the door behind him. She sat looking at the paper wondering if this might be something – the school connection. Or was it just a coincidence?

  She picked up the phone to call the DCI, half expecting it to go to voicemail but he answered within two rings.

  ‘Clare, hi. How’s things?’

  ‘Not great, Al, to be honest.’

  ‘Those two sudden deaths?’