What They Knew

by Marion Todd

  ‘You went to warn her off?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘And how did she react?’

  Cheryl shrugged. ‘As you’d expect. Denied it all. Said it was just a professional discussion, that day in the car.’

  ‘Did you believe her?’

  ‘Frankly, I didn’t care. I told her if she went anywhere near Miles again I’d break her face.’

  ‘How did she react to that?’

  ‘Didn’t wait to find out.’

  ‘And what about Miles – do you think he still cared for Alison?’

  Cheryl picked up the water again and took a longer drink this time, avoiding Clare’s eye. ‘She’s very different from me, Inspector. She’s quiet – she was quiet I should say – mousey, you know? She’s into reading, and orchestras, that sort of thing. Me? I’m not. I like going out for meals, West End shows, cocktail parties, casinos – I like a bit of fun. Miles does too but, now and then, I think he misses the mousey bit. The quiet life, you know?’ She raised her eyes to meet Clare’s. ‘Not enough, of course. I wasn’t about to hand him back, Inspector. Not to her, anyway. I’ll make sure he stays with me.’

  Clare could believe it. Cheryl had shown a chink in her armour but the steely side would always win out.

  Clare rose from her chair. ‘Thanks for your honesty, Mrs Sharp. I appreciate it. And I’m sorry to have taken up your time.’

  Cheryl shrugged. ‘It’s fine. I’d say it was a fair fight, wouldn’t you Inspector?’

  * * *

  ‘Well?’ Chris asked, as he started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

  ‘I don’t think she had anything to do with Alison’s killing,’ Clare said, tugging on her seat belt. ‘Can’t be sure of course but she claims she went there to warn Alison off.’

  ‘Off Miles?’

  ‘That’s what she said.’

  ‘And you believe her?’

  ‘Yeah, Chris. I think I do.’

  Chris pulled out into the traffic. ‘Back to the station?’

  ‘Please. Any luck with Linda?’

  ‘Nah. Not really. She admitted they had a client who had been with Crossford but she wouldn’t tell me who it was.’

  ‘Did you explain about GDPR not applying?’

  ‘Yep, but she said Miles would sack her if she said anything. She suggested we get a warrant.’

  ‘And you got nothing else out of her?’

  ‘Only that it was a restaurant owner and that he’d been very generous with discount vouchers for the staff at Sharp and Lafferty.’

  Clare considered this. ‘Maybe worth looking her up on Facebook. See if she’s Liked any restaurants in the town.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  They fell silent as Chris drove back to the station. They reached the car park a few minutes later and Clare saw the Scottish Water van pulling way, puddle dealt with.

  ‘I could murder a coffee,’ Chris said, as they walked towards the station door.

  ‘Me too. You reckon my lemon drizzle cake will still be there?’

  ‘Not a chance.’

  Chapter 26

  ‘We’ve had a call,’ Jim said, as they entered the station. ‘A shop just off North Street – Castle Gifts. They reckon there’s a shoplifter in. One of the staff spotted the woman’s bag had a foil lining. Sara’s on her way there now.’

  ‘Does it sound like the same woman?’

  ‘Aye. Same kind of coat and hat. Hopefully Sara will get there before she leaves. The staff are keeping her talking.’

  ‘Okay, Jim. Keep me posted.’

  To Clare’s amazement the lemon drizzle cake was still where she’d left it. Chris brought in two mugs of coffee and they sat down at Clare’s computer. She logged on to Facebook and typed Sharp and Lafferty into the search box.

  ‘There it is,’ Chris said, pointing to the third result listed.

  ‘Right.’ Clare clicked to open the company’s page and began scrolling down. It took a few minutes but then she found it. ‘Here we go,’ she said. ‘Staff Christmas night out. And there’s our Linda – kindly tagged in the post by Cheryl. Remind me to thank her.’ Clare clicked on Linda’s tag and was taken to her profile. ‘Now, let’s see if she’s been at any restaurants in the town since early December…’

  ‘You’re thinking those discount vouchers the restaurant client gave her?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  The security settings allowed her to see photos and Likes but nothing else. She scrolled down to Linda’s Likes and found several St Andrews restaurants were among her favourites.

  ‘Go back up to the photos,’ Chris said.

  Clare did this and they began browsing the photo posts.

  ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘Go back up to that photo where she’s in a red top.’

  Clare peered at it. ‘Second of January,’ she said. ‘That could be the restaurant.’ She glanced at Chris. ‘Recognise it?’

  ‘It’s hard to see. The globe lights are quite distinctive. Maybe someone else will recognise it.’

  Clare rose from her seat. ‘I bet I know who to ask…’

  ‘It’s The Heron’s Nest,’ Zoe said. ‘Know it anywhere.’ She pointed to something on the wall above Linda’s head. ‘See that? It’s one of the herons they have painted round the walls.’ She indicated the computer mouse. ‘Mind if I…?’

  Clare moved back to let Zoe take the mouse and she blinked as she caught a whiff of her perfume. Something fruity and strong. She wheeled further back in her chair. ‘On you go.’

  Zoe came off Linda’s page and opened her own Facebook page. She went to photos and clicked on an album. The screen filled with photos of Zoe and a group of friends at what looked like a twenty-first party. ‘See?’ she said, jabbing the screen. ‘There’s one of the herons – on the wall behind us, yeah? It’s definitely The Heron’s Nest.’ She relinquished the mouse and stepped back. ‘Nice food there,’ she added.

  When Zoe had gone Clare returned to perusing Linda’s Facebook page. There weren’t any restaurant photos after the second of January.

  ‘Doesn’t mean that’s the one, Chris,’ she said.

  ‘True, but it’s possible.’

  ‘I’m not sure where it gets us, though,’ Clare said. ‘I mean, even if Alison did threaten to report Miles, I can’t see it as a motive for murder. It’s just too far-fetched.’

  ‘Yeah, I agree. So where does that leave us?’

  Before Clare could answer there was a tap at the door and Jim’s head appeared.

  ‘Sara’s back with our shoplifter. I think she’d like a word.’

  Chris rose to leave, holding the door open for Sara who came in and sat down. Her face was lined with worry.

  ‘Sara?’

  ‘It’s our shoplifter, boss. There’s something not right with her.’

  Clare sat forward. ‘In what way?’

  Sara shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. But she’s odd. I mean, when we arrived, she almost seemed relieved. No arguments. Admitted it there and then…’

  ‘You cautioned her?’

  ‘Oh yes. All done by the book. And then she said she’d take us back to her house and give us the stuff.’

  ‘Did you get it?’

  ‘Couldn’t carry it, boss. There was just too much.’

  ‘Eh? What sort of stuff?’

  ‘You name it, she had it. Mostly clothes, some ornaments, candles, books, CDs.’ She fished out her mobile phone. ‘See here – I took photos.’

  Clare stared at the photos. ‘Is this a… looks like a garage.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. The house is in Trinity Place. Near Hallow Hill. There’s a garage to the side. She opened it for us and… well you can see for yourself.’

  Clare flicked through the photos. It was like looking at a garage sale. A dozen or more coat hangers with blouses and jumpers dangled from metal shelving that ran along the side of the garage. Other shelves had CDs and DVDs stacked up sideways and there was an assortment of small boxes pile
d on top of each other. It was shoplifting on a grand scale and everything she could see was still in its packaging. ‘Is she stealing to sell?’ Clare said, handing the phone back to Sara.

  ‘She says not. Some of the clothes are from last summer so I’d say she’s probably telling the truth.’

  ‘Then why? Why take all this? Nobody needs this much stuff.’ Clare peered at the photos again. ‘These look like men’s trousers, for goodness sake.’

  ‘She doesn’t know why she takes them. That’s what worries me, boss. I think it might be some sort of illness – like a compulsion to steal.’

  Clare sat back, considering this. She’d arrested her share of shoplifters as a young officer in Glasgow but usually they were stealing to sell so they could buy drugs. Unrepentant and careless of the consequences. This sounded different.

  ‘Is she using?’

  ‘She says not. And she doesn’t strike me as an addict. She’s shown almost no emotion. I’m a bit worried about her, boss.’

  Clare rose from her chair. ‘I’ll come and speak to her. Where is she?’

  ‘Interview room two.’

  ‘Solicitor?’

  ‘Declined.’

  ‘Okay, I’d like you to sit in, Sara. And let’s get her a cup of tea.’

  ‘Already done.’

  * * *

  Ruth Williams glanced up as Clare and Sara entered the room but she didn’t speak. Clare pulled out two chairs for herself and Sara. As she did so she appraised Ruth. Thirty-ish, maybe slightly older. Clean and tidy, her clothes not the height of fashion but trendy enough. Her hair was well cut too but her face was white now, a hint of mascara below her eyes indicating a few tears. She sat, head down, twisting her hands, the cup of tea untouched on the table in front of her.

  Sara was right. Ruth Williams did not look like a typical shoplifter. She looked – for want of a better word – a bit too respectable.

  Clare introduced herself and Sara, and started recording the interview, delivering the standard caution. When she asked Ruth if she understood, she simply nodded.

  ‘Could you speak for the benefit of the tape, please, Ruth?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruth said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘I understand.’

  Clare smiled. ‘Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Ruth?’

  Ruth glanced quickly at Clare then down at her hands again. ‘Yes. Ruth’s fine.’

  ‘First of all, Ruth, I’d like to suggest once more that we call your solicitor. Or we could arrange the duty solicitor if you prefer?’

  Ruth shook her head. ‘No solicitor. I just want to get this over with.’

  Clare watched her carefully. Was it embarrassment that was preventing her accepting legal help? ‘Okay, then, Ruth. We’ll make a start. Now PC Stapleton has told me that you admitted to taking a large number of items from shops in the town without paying for them. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I believe also that you took PC Stapleton to the garage at your house in Trinity Place and showed her these items. Is that also correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘PS Stapleton formed the view that some of these items had been there for quite some time.’

  Ruth nodded. Her face was flushed now but otherwise devoid of emotion.

  ‘For the tape, please, Ruth.’

  ‘Yes. I… I had some of them for a few months.’

  ‘And the items in the garage – is that everything? Or are there more items, elsewhere?’

  Ruth shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, her voice still small. ‘Everything… I took, it’s all in the garage.’ She raised her eyes. ‘I’ll give it back,’ she said. ‘All of it. I… I don’t really want it.’

  Clare hesitated, then she said, ‘Ruth, I’m afraid with such a large quantity of items, that this can’t be dealt with by a fixed penalty. Even if you do return all the goods, unused, I’m afraid the scale of theft is just too great.’

  Ruth’s eyes flitted from Clare to Sara then back to Clare again. ‘Do you mean… I could go… to prison?’

  ‘Let’s not look too far ahead,’ Clare said. ‘There are many options that the courts could consider. But maybe it would help if you told me why you took the items found in your garage.’

  Ruth’s brow creased. ‘I… I don’t know.’ She cleared her throat then said, ‘I suppose I just wanted them…’

  ‘But you haven’t used any of them,’ Clare said, ‘have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you plan to sell them, perhaps?’ Clare suggested. ‘Or give them as gifts?’

  Ruth’s eyes filled with tears. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I just took them.’

  Clare passed a box of tissues across the desk to Ruth who, after hesitating, took one and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. ‘I think, Ruth,’ she said, ‘that we’ll break now.’ She indicated the cup on the desk. ‘Maybe get you a fresh cup of tea. And I’d like you to see our duty doctor.’

  Ruth said nothing to this, and Clare suspended the interview.

  ‘Back shortly,’ she said, lifting the now-cold cup of tea and leaving the room.

  ‘What do you reckon, boss?’ Sara said, when they were back out in the office.

  ‘I’m no expert, Sara, but I’d say she’s not well. Could you make her a fresh cup of tea while I call the doctor?’

  * * *

  The duty doctor arrived an hour later and was shown into the interview room to speak to Ruth. He was with her for about twenty minutes when Jim tapped on Clare’s office door.

  ‘Doc would like a word, Clare.’

  Clare indicated a chair and the doctor sat, putting his medical bag on the floor beside him.

  ‘I think she ought to see a psychiatrist, Inspector.’

  ‘But what’s your view, doctor? Off the record, I mean.’

  ‘In my view, she may be suffering from kleptomania. It’s pretty uncommon but the guilt she’s exhibiting, the theft of items she clearly has no use for – they seem classic symptoms to me. But, I’m not a specialist. If I were you, I’d have a psychiatrist examine her before preferring any charges.’

  Clare thanked the doctor and sat on, mulling this over. Then she moved to her computer and began looking for the list of medical specialists they could call on. The duty psychiatrist for the area was a Dr Mateo Morales. Clare found his telephone number and dialled. A voicemail cut in stating Dr Morales was on annual leave until the eighteenth of January. Clare ended the call and found the number for the duty doctor who’d just attended.

  ‘I’m afraid our psychiatric specialist is on annual leave, doc. Can you recommend anyone else who might be able to help?’

  The doctor gave Clare the name of a colleague working in St Andrews. ‘Dr Sandra Holt,’ he said. ‘She’s excellent. And, if she can’t call round she may be able to talk by phone.’

  Clare thanked the doctor and dialled the number he’d given her. She left a message for Dr Holt and sat back to think. Was there really any merit in putting someone like Ruth Williams through the court system? They had all the goods she’d stolen, after all. Perhaps there was some other way of dealing with her. Whatever the solution was she had to find it quickly. She had a double murder investigation that was going nowhere fast.

  Chapter 27

  As Clare wandered into the incident room to check on progress she heard the front door open. Checking over her shoulder she saw the tall figure of DCI Alastair Gibson enter the station. Suddenly she felt a knot in her stomach. He was tanned and looked lean. He clearly didn’t have an admin assistant baking cakes on a daily basis. Or perhaps the week’s skiing had burned off the Christmas calories. He hadn’t noticed her and he strode up to the desk. Clare watched as Zoe looked up from her computer then went to greet him. They exchanged a few words then Zoe glanced across to the incident room door. The DCI turned and he saw Clare. He smiled and Clare felt her cheeks flush. Then she gathered her wits and went to greet him.

  ‘Al,’ she said. ‘Great to see you. Erm… coffee?’
>
  Zoe appeared in the kitchen as they were making coffee. She smiled at the DCI and held out a plate. ‘Thought you might like a bit of cake,’ she said.

  ‘What about me?’ Clare said, trying not to laugh as Zoe made sheep’s eyes at the DCI.

  ‘You’ve had yours!’

  ‘Thanks, er…’ the DCI said.

  ‘Zoe.’

  ‘Thanks, Zoe.’ He watched her as she walked off. ‘She seems nice.’

  ‘Hands off,’ Clare said. ‘She’s my new admin assistant and she’s excellent. You’re not pinching her.’

  They carried their coffees back to Clare’s office and sat down. The DCI held out the cake. ‘If you really want it…’

  ‘Let’s share it,’ Clare said, breaking the cake in two. She hesitated then they both began speaking at once.

  ‘I hope…’ the DCI began then broke off.

  ‘Go on,’ Clare said.

  ‘I hope you had a good Christmas? You were with your family, weren’t you?’

  Clare nodded. ‘Yes, thanks.’ She hesitated, wondering if she should say something about Geoffrey but he went on.

  ‘I was skiing.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Clare said, before she could stop herself. Dammit. Now he’d know she was looking at his Facebook page.

  ‘Innsbruck,’ he added.

  ‘Nice. Good time?’

  ‘It was lovely. Good snow. Do you ski, Clare? I can’t remember if you said.’

  ‘Not really. I mean I tried it once and I’d love to have another go but I’m pretty hopeless.’

  ‘It’s just practice. Maybe you should go more often. Or book a ski holiday, even.’

  Clare considered this. ‘Yes, maybe.’ She sipped at her coffee then said, ‘I saw your photos. Facebook,’ she added. ‘They… they came up on my timeline.’

  He nodded. ‘Seems a distant memory now.’

  ‘It looked lovely.’

  ‘Yes it was. Good friends, good craic.’

  Clare waited to see if he would say anything about the friends, or if there was one special friend, but instead he took out his phone and began flicking through photos. ‘Check out that view,’ he said, clicking on one that showed a ski hut with a backdrop of snow-covered mountains.