What They Knew

by Marion Todd

  Clare leaned in closer and, as she did, she caught a whiff of his cologne, earthy and aromatic. She remembered it and had a sudden flashback to the night they’d shared a curry in Daisy Cottage. He’d spilled sauce on his shirt and Clare had insisted on soaking it to remove the stain. She’d taken the shirt from him and carried it into the kitchen, feeling it warm in her hands, fragrant with his cologne. Then they’d carried on eating – eating and drinking until the coffee lay untouched and Clare had taken his hand and led him upstairs.

  Her mouth was dry now, her stomach in knots.

  ‘We skied this piste,’ he was saying.

  She recovered herself and smiled. ‘Amazing.’ And she handed the phone back to him.

  They fell silent again, munching the cake. Then the DCI said, ‘So, your double murder. Any progress?’

  She began filling him in on Miles and Cheryl, and on the links between the two victims. ‘Both went to the same school and they’re in a WhatsApp group.’

  ‘Coincidence,’ he asked, ‘or a connection?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. They were both also on the same dating website.’

  ‘Now that sounds more promising. You found anyone they both connected with?’

  ‘Tech Support managed to get into their dating site accounts and the team are going through the data now, checking for common links.’

  ‘Good. You’ll have to alert the dating site.’

  ‘Jim’s been onto them, giving them the heads-up. If we can establish a link I’ll have the site taken offline. Thing is…’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Well the dating site doesn’t ask for contact details, just an email address. And, as you know, people use disposable addresses. So tracking down anyone they have in common could be tricky. Unless…’

  ‘Unless what?’

  ‘Unless one of us engineered a date with whoever it is.’

  ‘Absolutely not, Clare. I won’t hear of it. Quite apart from the danger it would put the officer in, it could be construed as entrapment. If you did manage to arrest the perpetrator a clever solicitor would have it thrown out before it reached court. And the papers would have a field day.’

  ‘Suppose.’

  ‘There’s no suppose about it. Look, Clare, I’ll try to rustle you up a few more officers. You’re not exactly drowning in manpower here.’

  ‘That would be great, Al.’ Clare’s phone began to ring. Glancing at the display she saw it was the number she’d dialled for Dr Holt. ‘I have to take this,’ she said.

  The DCI nodded. ‘I’ll just finish my coffee and leave you in peace. But I’ll be in touch daily. I’m down at Dunfermline now so I could be up here in an hour, if you need me.’

  Clare smiled her thanks and clicked to answer the call, her eyes on the DCI’s back as he moved to the door. ‘Dr Holt, thanks so much for calling. Our duty doctor said you might be able to help.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  Clare related the story of Ruth’s arrest, of the garage full of unused goods and Ruth’s tearful interview. ‘Would you be free to come and examine her?’

  ‘Unfortunately not this week,’ Dr Holt said. ‘I could probably come on Monday, if I rearranged things a bit. Any good?’

  Clare considered this. ‘I could release her, pending your examination, I suppose. But I am concerned about her mental wellbeing in the meantime.’

  ‘Okay, Inspector. From what you say, it does sound like a classic case. I can certainly examine her and report on my findings. But, for her own sake, she should be properly assessed and that has to be through her GP. Unfortunately the waiting list for adult psych services is lengthy. I presume you have to decide whether to charge her or not.’

  ‘In a nutshell.’

  ‘Right. Let’s set up an appointment for Monday, then. Say… two thirty?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll make sure she’s here for you. And, in the meantime, I’ll consider how best to support her.’

  ‘Start by telephoning her GP,’ Dr Holt advised. ‘They’re the gateway to the services she needs.’

  * * *

  Clare called Sara and told her what Dr Holt had recommended. ‘I think we’ll release her, pending further enquiries. We’ll have her back at two o’clock on Monday and the doc’ll see her at two thirty.’

  Ruth was even more tearful when Clare said she wasn’t going to charge her until she’d seen a psychiatrist. ‘I don’t deserve it,’ she said. ‘Please, just charge me now. I’d like it over and done with.’

  ‘I can’t do that, Ruth. In fact, I don’t want to do it. If it turns out there is a medical reason for what you’ve done we may be able to give you a formal caution, especially as you still have all the goods.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sure we can sort this out. Now, I’m going to send an officer home with you to collect your garage keys. And we’ll be round with a van as soon as possible to uplift the stolen items. I’m also going to call your GP so if you can give me the details I’ll leave you with PC Stapleton to go through the formalities. And we’d like you back here at two o’clock on Monday afternoon.’

  Ruth nodded. ‘Okay, Inspector. Whatever you say.’

  * * *

  When Clare had spoken to Ruth Williams’ GP she wandered through to the incident room to see if there was any news. Janey, Robbie and Gillian were bent over laptops trawling through the WhatsApp group’s social media accounts.

  ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Nothing yet, boss,’ Janey said. ‘Most of them are on Facebook but, from the little we can see of their profiles, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.’

  ‘What about private conversations between members?’

  ‘We can’t actually see that, boss. Only conversations Alison and Ingrid had with other members.’

  ‘Dammit, of course. And WhatsApp’s encrypted too, isn’t it.’ She stood, considering this for a moment, then said, ‘I think it would be an idea to track them all down and pay them a call in person. I’ll get some of the others to help.’

  ‘Thanks, boss,’ Janey said and the other two nodded.

  ‘And keep an eye out for anyone in the group who has a link to Miles or Cheryl Sharp. Anyone at all, I want to know about it.’ She turned to leave then she remembered something. ‘Janey, did you have time to look up Sharp and Lafferty in Companies House?’

  Janey shook her head. ‘Sorry, boss. Been head down at this.’

  ‘Not to worry. I’ll do it myself.’ Clare left the room and found Chris chatting to Sara.

  ‘I’m going to run Ruth Williams home,’ Sara said. ‘She’s just in the loo.’

  Clare smiled. ‘Thanks, Sara. I appreciate it.’

  ‘What’s this?’ Chris said. ‘We running a taxi service for shoplifters now?’

  Sara glared at him. ‘If you’d seen her, you’d know,’ she said.

  Chris raised an eyebrow then followed Clare into her office. ‘What’s that about?’

  ‘Our shoplifter. She’s a poor soul.’

  ‘She’s a light-fingered thief.’

  ‘Yes, she’s that all right but it’s not straightforward this time.’

  ‘Whatever. So, what now?’

  ‘We’re going to have a look at Companies House.’

  ‘Fascinating.’

  Clare typed Sharp and Lafferty Companies House into her computer and clicked when the weblink appeared. ‘Here we go,’ she said. ‘Now, let’s look at their filing history…’

  She began clicking and scrolling while Chris yawned.

  ‘Okay. So, no accounts for last year yet but we can see the previous few years.’

  She clicked to open the accounts files for the last three years and scrolled through, studying them. Then she jotted figures down on her notepad. Finally she sat back. ‘They’re doing okay,’ she said. ‘At a rough calculation I’d say their profit has increased by around 20 per cent each year. Seems a lot, don’t you think?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Chris said. ‘But they are accountants. If anyone knows how to turn a profit it’ll be them.’ />
  ‘Okay then. Let’s do the same for Crossford Financial.’

  Clare typed the name into the search box and she called up Crossford’s accounts for the same years. ‘So, the turnover’s a lot less,’ she said, ‘and so’s the profit.’ She indicated the figures she’d jotted down for Crossford. ‘I’d say it’s up no more than a couple of per cent each year. Certainly nothing like Sharp and Lafferty.’

  ‘Maybe they’re just better at it.’

  ‘Could be. But that office in Hope Street won’t come cheap.’ She sat back, considering this. ‘The quicker Diane gets into that document on Alison’s laptop, the better.’

  Chapter 28

  ‘They’ve both Liked a lot of men,’ Jim said, holding up his notepad. ‘I’ve jotted down the names here.’

  Clare, standing behind him, peered at the Attracto webpage on the screen. ‘What about men who’ve Liked them first, Jim? Any common to both?’

  ‘Aye, three so far. And I’m not done yet.’

  ‘Any private messages?’

  ‘Just a couple. Both women have exchanged phone numbers with men they have Liked on the site.’

  ‘Any of them the same?’

  ‘I’ve not got that far, yet but I will check. Thing is, though, Clare, if someone on Attracto is a murderer they might have multiple profiles, different mobiles. If we really do have a determined serial killer he won’t be daft.’ He sat back and stretched, rubbing his neck.

  ‘We have to hope not, Jim. Look, you take a break. You look done in. I’ll get young Gary onto checking their mobile records for common numbers.’

  Clare wandered back into her office. Something was niggling away in the back of her mind. She sat down at her computer. The webpage of Companies House was still up on the screen and she typed The Heron’s Nest into the search box. There were several companies with similar names but finally she found the entry she was looking for. There was only one company officer listed, a Nicholas Hamilton. She clicked to view the filing history and saw that there were accounts for the past few years. Browsing through the PDFs it was clear the restaurant was doing well. She opened up Facebook again and searched for Nicholas Hamilton but there were too many entries returned. So she searched instead for the restaurant. The Heron’s Nest Facebook page was busy – full of photos, including group shots of the management team. Nicholas Hamilton had been tagged in some and one click took Clare to his Facebook page. He had opted for the minimum security and she was able to browse his timeline and his photos. And there were plenty of them. She scrolled through photos of him, at the wheel of a black 4x4 vehicle, shots of him teeing off on The Old Course – the world-famous (and eye-wateringly expensive) golf club in St Andrews – and others taken at a glittering black-tie dinner. He was clearly enjoying the fruits of his labour.

  On an impulse she picked up the phone and dialled Crossford Financial. Kathy answered and Clare introduced herself.

  ‘Kathy, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position but if I said that the client who marched out of that appointment with Alison after fifteen minutes was called Nicholas Hamilton, would I be correct?’

  Kathy hesitated and Clare knew she’d guessed correctly. ‘I… I mean…’

  ‘So let’s agree I’m not wrong then?’ Clare suggested.

  ‘You’re… not wrong.’

  ‘Thanks, Kathy.’

  Clare put down the phone and mulled this over. If Nicholas Hamilton had wanted Alison to do something questionable and she had refused, and if he’d suspected Alison was trying to stop Miles Sharp doing it, would that be enough of a motive to kill her? It sounded very unlikely but then murder was rarely the product of a rational mind.

  Her office door opened and Chris looked in. ‘Seen the time?’

  Clare glanced at her watch. Quarter to six. ‘Where’s the day gone?’

  ‘I’m knocking off now, boss. I’m guessing the weekend…’

  ‘Everyone in as usual, Chris. Except Zoe, of course. Briefing at eight. Pass the word round, would you?’

  * * *

  As she walked out to her car, Clare clicked her mobile phone. She scrolled to the Attracto app which she’d downloaded the night before and, while she waited for the fan to clear the windscreen, she viewed her profile. She was glad to see a pop-up reminding users of the Safe Dating advice. But they really needed the site taken down. A red number two was flashing, indicating she had another two Likes. She hovered over the icon to view them. Then her warning to Zoe came into her head. For all she knew, one of her two admirers could be the killer they were hunting.

  The windscreen was almost clear now but it was dark outside. Sitting alone in her car in the deserted car park, Clare suddenly felt uneasy. How many men had viewed her profile since she’d created it – were viewing it right now? And was the killer among them? Was she so desperate to be part of a couple that she was browsing men on a website possibly connected to a double murder? She pressed a button on the dashboard and felt the reassuring clunk as her car doors locked. Then she put down her phone and pulled on her seat belt.

  Maybe it was time to delete her Attracto profile.

  Then again, as long as there was a killer out there, it might just come in handy.

  * * *

  Benjy’s welcome was to chase his tail immediately in front of her, scattering the post across the hall. Clare bent to retrieve it and wandered into the kitchen, switching on lights as she went. There were the usual bills and junk flyers and there was one handwritten envelope.

  She glanced at the wine bottle then, remembering she was trying to drink a bit less, flicked the switch on the kettle. She took a knife from the drawer and slit the letter, withdrawing a stiff card. It was bordered by garlands of pink roses and in the centre were the words Save The Date. She read on and saw that it was advance notice of a wedding.

  Tom’s wedding.

  Clare thought back to that evening when Tom, her ex-boyfriend from Glasgow, had turned up at Daisy Cottage with his new fiancée, Gillian, in tow. Clare hadn’t even known Tom was seeing anyone. It had only been a few months since Clare had ended their relationship and here he was, on the rebound with the golden-haired Gillian (Call me Gilly). And she had been so right for Tom. So completely perfect. They giggled and finished each other’s sentences until Clare had wanted to vomit.

  Geoff had been there that night and had helped her through an interminable evening. She’d watched Tom with this vision of loveliness and wondered if she’d ever really known him. How on earth could she have spent so many years in a relationship with this man who now seemed besotted with this woman? A woman so completely opposite to Clare? She’d been a dancer with Scottish ballet for a time and now was a PE teacher at an exclusive girls’ school. She was perfect, of course, but somehow Clare would have had more respect for Tom if he’d settled for someone a little less perfect. A little more like Clare perhaps. Her good intentions evaporated and she ignored the steam pouring from the kettle. It was going to be a wine night after all.

  She hadn’t thought it would last – Tom and Gillian. Perhaps she’d hoped it wouldn’t last. And, once more, she faced the unpalatable truth that, while she no longer wanted Tom, she’d quite enjoyed him still wanting her. She wondered idly what would happen if she clicked her fingers in Tom’s direction. Would he come running? Cast off his perfect bride-to-be and throw his lot in with Clare again?

  Glancing at the card she saw Tom had scrawled at the bottom.

  Do come if you can, Clare.

  We’d love to have you with us on our special day.

  ‘Aye, that’ll be right,’ she told Benjy.

  Outside the moon was rising. It wasn’t freezing but it was going to be a clear night. ‘Tell you what,’ she said to the dog, ‘I’ll shove a pizza in the oven and we’ll go for a quick walk. Clear our heads.’

  Benjy was beside himself with joy at the sight of Clare picking up his lead and he followed her to the front door, almost on his hind legs as he jumped up at her.

  �
�Sit,’ she roared, channelling her inner Isobel. To her delight he obeyed and she ruffled his neck. His tail thumped against the floor and she clipped on the lead, stepping out into the January darkness. As she emerged from the garden onto the road, the moon lighting her way, she looked up and saw a carpet of stars across the sky; and the more she looked the more she saw. She stood gazing up at it for a few moments until Benjy gave a quiet wuff.

  ‘Come on then,’ she said and, turning her collar up against the cold evening, she began to walk briskly with the little dog at her heels.

  Saturday, 9th January

  Chapter 29

  Jim and Sara were carrying another desk into the incident room when Clare arrived on Saturday morning.

  ‘Two more up from Glenrothes,’ Jim said, nodding towards a couple of uniformed officers chatting over mugs of coffee.

  Clare recognised them and smiled over. ‘Just let me dump my things and check emails then I’ll be in to start the briefing.’

  Five minutes later they had gathered in the incident room. Clare thanked Liv and Erin, the two Glenrothes officers, then asked for updates.

  ‘Working through the WhatsApp group,’ Janey said. ‘A few are proving hard to find but we’re getting there.’

  ‘Okay, guys. Liv and Erin: can you help with that?’

  The two officers indicated they would, and Clare turned to Jim. ‘Any luck with those dating site matches?’

  ‘Aye. It is just the three, Clare. But they’re all using names that make it hard to identify them.’

  ‘What about photos?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Yes, we’ve photos of their faces but…’

  ‘Reverse image search.’

  Jim’s brow furrowed.

  ‘I’ll show you when we’re done here,’ Clare said. ‘So, what else do we have?’

  Gary raised his hand. ‘Both victims have texted the same number. But, unfortunately…’