What They Knew

by Marion Todd

  * * *

  Donny Cohen arrived at the station just after quarter past two. Clare took his phone and asked him to wait in the public enquiry area.

  ‘Shouldn’t be too long,’ she said.

  He waved this away. ‘I’m in no rush.’

  Chris brought the list of contacts from the WhatsApp group into Clare’s office and they sat down to compare them with the data from Donny’s phone. They weren’t really surprised when there were no matches. As she unplugged his phone from the Kiosk Clare’s own phone began to ring. Diane. ‘Could you give this back to Donny please, Chris? Thank him for his co-operation – the usual. I need to take this call.’

  Clare waited until he’d closed the door then switched the phone to speaker. ‘Diane, hi. Thanks for calling.’

  ‘No problem, Clare. How’s tricks?’

  ‘Not bad,’ Clare said. ‘I’ve just been playing with my new toy.’

  ‘Ahh. They’ve sent you a Cyber Kiosk. Good, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yup. Hopefully save us bothering you guys so much.’

  ‘Ach, it’s what we’re here for, Clare. And speaking of that.’

  ‘Got anything?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe. So first of all, Attracto should be down by the end of the day. They’re being a bit sticky but they have agreed.’

  ‘I’ll give them sticky,’ Clare said.

  ‘It’s fine. Your DCI’s already done it. Now I could have got it taken down right away but…’

  ‘You got something else?’

  ‘Maybe. You wanted to know about anyone on Attracto with a medical background?’

  ‘You’ve got someone?’

  ‘Two actually.’

  Clare grabbed a pen and notepad. ‘Okay, tell me…’

  ‘Dr Helen Armstrong. GP in Cupar. I’ve got her username on the site and managed to get her contact details too.’

  Clare scribbled down Dr Armstrong’s details then said, ‘And the other?’

  ‘Finn McDonald. He’s a lab technician over in Dundee. Out at the Technology Park.’

  Clare noted this too and thanked Diane. She rose and went to her office door to find Chris about to come back in.

  ‘That’s Donny Cohen away, heartily relieved.’

  ‘Never mind him. Diane’s come up with a couple of Attracto members with a medical background.’ She squinted at her notepad. ‘Dr Helen Armstrong,’ she said. ‘GP in Cupar. Diane says she’s in the forty to fifty age bracket. Her interests are classical concerts and art galleries.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like our murderer,’ Chris said.

  ‘All the same, we’ll need her checked out.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘No.’ Clare tapped her notepad. ‘There’s another one. Lab technician across in Dundee. Finn McDonald. Twenty to thirty age group. Interests are rugby, curling… curling? Where the hell does he go curling round here?’

  Chris shrugged. ‘Dunno. Perth maybe. Rink in Dundee, too, isn’t there?’

  ‘Suppose. Anyway, I’ve got contact details for them both. So we need to cross-check their phone numbers with the WhatsApp group members. I want to know where they went to school and when. See if they have any siblings who might have been in the same class as our victims. Previous employment – anything at all. Can you see to that, please?’

  Chris scraped back his chair. ‘Sure. Want someone to call on them?’

  ‘Not at this stage. Let’s see what the team can come up with first.’

  * * *

  A man in dark green overalls was unscrewing the thermostat from the wall when Clare emerged from her office.

  ‘I hope it’s a quick fix,’ she said to him. ‘We’ve been sweltering here.’

  ‘Just replacing it, hen,’ the man said, his accent suggesting he hailed from south-west Fife. ‘Cheaper than trying to fix it, ye ken?’

  Clare thanked him and wandered into the incident room. ‘Any progress?’ she said.

  A few heads shook but Janey looked up. ‘We’ve pretty much got round the WhatsApp group,’ she said. ‘All warned not to go on dates, not to be on their own – the usual.’

  ‘Great, thanks Janey. What about that class list?’ She scanned the room for Gillian.

  ‘Got it, boss,’ Gillian said. ‘It’s a full list of everyone who started primary seven that year. I’ll print you off a copy.’

  ‘Thanks Gillian. Can you liaise with Janey, please? I need anyone on the list who’s not on the WhatsApp group spoken to.’

  ‘What if one of them’s our killer, though?’ Janey asked.

  It was a good point.

  ‘If we warn them to be careful they’ll know we’re onto the school connection,’ Janey went on.

  Clare considered this. ‘How many are there?’

  ‘Just the four,’ Gillian said. ‘I’m checking on them now.’

  ‘Okay. See what you can find out first then we’ll rethink. But I’d rather risk letting a killer know we’re on to them than have another victim.’

  Clare went back to her office with the intention of calling the DCI to update him on their progress – or lack of it – when her phone rang again. She recognised the number this time. It was Celia Crawford’s daughter.

  ‘Mrs Joseph,’ she said. ‘How is your mother?’

  ‘Much better, Inspector. She’s a real tough cookie. Sitting up in bed, joking with the nurses.’

  ‘I’m so glad to hear that,’ Clare said. She hesitated and Carolyn went on.

  ‘I’ve asked the medical staff and they say you can have a short visit tomorrow morning after rounds. But only if she’s not too tired.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Clare said. ‘I’m so grateful. So what time?’

  ‘They said about eleven. I’m sorry it couldn’t be today but I think another day will make all the difference – if you can wait.’

  ‘I can wait,’ Clare said. ‘And thank you. I really do appreciate it.’

  * * *

  An alert sounded from Clare’s phone when she was settling down to look at the class list Gillian had printed off. A reminder that Moira, her neighbour, had a hospital appointment that day and wouldn’t be able to do a second dog walk with Benjy. She gathered up her things and headed for the door. ‘I need to go home early tonight, Jim,’ she said. ‘But I’ll have my phone. Keep me updated.’

  The fog had lifted but the light was going as Clare pulled into the drive at Daisy Cottage. She could hear a delighted Benjy barking from within the house and she hurried in with promises of a walk before it was fully dark.

  It was only later, when she was sprawled out on the sofa, channel-hopping that she remembered Gillian’s printout and she took it up to read. Most of the names were known to her by now, she’d been through that WhatsApp group so many times. But, as Gillian had said, four of the pupils weren’t in the group. There were two girls: Gemma Golden and Alexandra Harris. Clare realised Alexandra must be Lexy and she wondered why Lexy wasn’t part of the group. Maybe Celia Crawford would shed some light on that. The two boys were John Mason and Ben McEwan. John must be the boy from the photo, she thought. Another one to ask Celia about.

  With luck Gillian would have found contact details for all four by tomorrow. She looked again at the list and couldn’t put her finger on what was bothering her.

  And then she saw it.

  Or rather she didn’t.

  Ingrid McKinnie’s name was missing.

  Wednesday, 13th January

  Chapter 44

  ‘I’m seeing Celia Crawford at eleven this morning,’ Clare said to Chris as she entered the station. ‘I’d like you with me.’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Any progress overnight?’

  ‘Kind of. The primary seven classmates who weren’t in the WhatsApp group – Gemma Golden checks out but they’re still trying to locate Lexy Harris and the two men.’

  Clare pushed open her office door and held it for Chris. ‘Maybe Celia Crawford will know something.’ She shrugged off her coat and threw it over an
empty chair then sat down at her desk. ‘I discovered something odd last night.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘That class list Gillian gave me – Ingrid McKinnie’s not on it.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘Want to speak to the parents again?’

  ‘Not at this stage. There could be a reasonable explanation. Again, I’m hoping Celia will know.’

  ‘Bit of a long shot, Clare. Must be almost twenty years since that class left primary school.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. If Celia doesn’t come up with anything useful I will speak to the parents. But I don’t want to add to their distress if I can help it.’

  * * *

  There was a queue for car park number nine at Ninewells Hospital in Dundee. It was set on an elevated site looking across the River Tay to Fife and had a number of car parks dotted around the grounds. Number nine, the furthest from the building, was always the last to fill up and today there was a queue for the remaining spaces. Chris drummed his fingers impatiently on the side of the car as the barrier admitted one car at a time – slowly.

  Eventually they were through the barrier and Clare crawled along until she found a space. She backed in then killed the engine, clicking off her belt. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’re late enough already.’

  ‘We could wait for the courtesy bus,’ Chris said, indicating the sign where a minibus stopped every fifteen minutes.

  ‘Ach, the walk’ll do you good,’ Clare said, setting a brisk pace. ‘Think of that kilt.’

  The Coronary Care Unit was located three floors below the entrance and they followed the signs through the concourse and down to the ward. Clare showed her warrant card at the nurses’ station and was directed to Celia’s bed.

  ‘She’s quite bright this morning,’ the nurse said, ‘but please don’t tire her out.’

  Clare nodded at this and approached the elderly lady. She was sitting, propped up in bed, reading a newspaper while, on either side of her, machines and monitors flashed silently. Her face was lined with age and the soft hair snowy-white, but her eyes looked quick and intelligent. As they approached she folded the newspaper and laid it down, greeting them with a smile.

  ‘Detective Inspector Mackay?’ she asked. Clare smiled and introduced Chris. He went to fetch two chairs from a stack at the window.

  ‘I’m so sorry to greet you in these surroundings,’ Celia said. ‘It’s not as if I can offer you a cup of tea.’

  Clare smiled. ‘We’re the ones who should be sorry – for disturbing you so soon after your surgery. But we do have some urgent enquiries we hoped you could assist with.’

  ‘So my daughter said. I’ll be happy to help, if I can.’

  Chris returned with the chairs and they sat down.

  ‘We’re investigating the deaths of some young women who were pupils at Lamond Primary School when you were headteacher.’

  Celia’s brow clouded but she said nothing.

  ‘We’d like to find out as much as possible about the women so we can work out if the school is the connection. I’m afraid, if we don’t discover why they are being killed, there may be more deaths.’

  Celia looked grave. ‘Then, please, ask me anything you wish, Inspector.’

  Clare took out the photo she had found among Ingrid’s papers and handed it to Celia. She studied it for some minutes then said, ‘That was a long time ago. But I do remember the girls.’ She tapped the photo. ‘Alison, of course. And Ingrid.’ She began to smile at the memory. ‘Great friends, they were.’ She studied the photo again. ‘Oh, that’s Lexy,’ she said, a note of surprise in her voice. ‘And Ruth next to her. And, of course…’

  ‘You sounded surprised at Lexy being in the photo,’ Clare said, cutting across Celia. ‘Was she not friendly with the others?’

  Celia leaned back on her pillows considering this. Then she said, ‘I think three of the girls were particular friends – Alison, Ruth and Ingrid. They were quite a trio. They used to walk about the playground, arms linked, and woe betide anyone who got in their way. Not that anyone did. They were popular, you know, Inspector. Everyone wanted to be their friend. I suppose, to the other children, they must have seemed as if they had it all. They were quick and clever, good at sports, invited to all the parties. I think they might have included Lexy sometimes, but not always. Just when they felt charitable.’

  ‘Were they unkind to the others in the class?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Hm… not especially,’ Celia said. ‘But they doled their favours out sparingly. I would say they knew their worth.’ She glanced at the photo again. ‘And that’s John,’ she said. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to recall, then she said, ‘John Mason, I think. A bit of a poor soul, really. He clung on to the girls, almost for protection. He didn’t have many friends in the class and they rather took him under their wing.’

  Clare reached into her pocket and took out the class list Gillian had printed off, running her eye down the names. ‘You have a good memory,’ she said. ‘There is a John Mason.’

  Celia smiled. ‘No doubt, Inspector, you have heard that the elderly can’t recall what they had for breakfast but they can remember things which happened fifty years ago. I’m afraid it’s absolutely true.’

  Clare laughed then said, ‘Could I ask you about another pupil, please?’

  ‘Of course. It’s enjoyable thinking back to those days.’

  ‘Jessica Peters.’

  Celia pressed her hands together while she thought and Clare couldn’t help noticing a large bruise spreading out from a bandage, where a drip needle had been inserted through her papery skin. After a few moments she said, ‘I don’t recall anything special about Jessica. She wasn’t particular friends with the girls in the photo. Just an ordinary girl, I suppose. Nice enough, but unremarkable.’

  ‘Did she have any arguments with her classmates? Any fighting or bullying?’

  Celia shook her head. ‘Not that I recall. Mind you, often it doesn’t come to the attention of staff. But I wasn’t aware of anything like that.’ Her brow furrowed and then she said, ‘I think she went abroad a few years after leaving Lamond.’

  ‘She did,’ Clare said. ‘To France.’

  ‘Ah yes. That’s right. Is she still there?’

  ‘We think so. Having a bit of trouble getting in touch with her.’

  The nurse reappeared and scanned the monitors around Celia. ‘Maybe just another few minutes, Inspector,’ she suggested, and Clare nodded.

  Celia cast a glance at the nurse. ‘I’m perfectly fine, nurse. I’m enjoying talking about the old days.’

  The nurse walked away again and Clare said, ‘There is one more thing, Mrs Crawford, if you feel up to it.’

  Celia smiled. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Ingrid McKinnie – for some reason her name’s not on this list. But I’m pretty sure she was at Lamond Primary. Could she have been in another class?’

  Celia’s brow furrowed again and she was silent for a minute. And then her expression cleared. ‘I remember now,’ she said. ‘Ingrid left Lamond a year early. Her parents put her to Melville Academy. You know, the private school south of the town.’

  Clare nodded. The list they were working from showed all the pupils who’d started their final year together at Lamond Primary. But the McKinnies hadn’t told Clare that Ingrid had left the school a year before the others.

  ‘Usually,’ Celia went on, ‘the parents wait until the child has completed their primary education, but I think Ingrid’s parents wanted her away from the school. There was an accident, you see…’

  Chapter 45

  They packed into the incident room, conscious that Clare had something significant to impart. The DCI had driven up from his office in Dunfermline and, as he entered the room, the buzz of chatter died away.

  When there was absolute quiet, Clare began. ‘First of all, thanks to DCI Gibson for coming up at short notice.’ She glanced at him. ‘Can I ask if you’ve h
eard back from Europol?’

  He shook his head. ‘Hopefully in the next forty-eight hours,’ he said. ‘But I’ve escalated it to urgent so we might hear sooner.’

  Clare smiled. ‘Thanks, Al. Meantime, I spoke to Celia Crawford this morning. She’s the former headteacher at Lamond Primary School and was in charge at the time our victims were pupils. She’s currently in the Coronary Care Unit at Ninewells Hospital, following heart surgery so we couldn’t stay long; but she has given us some quite significant background information.’ She paused to ensure they were all attending then went on.

  ‘As you know, our three victims were at school together. It seems they were popular – everyone wanted to be their friend.’

  ‘The in-crowd,’ someone said.

  ‘Precisely. Now that continued until the end of primary six when Ingrid was moved to Melville Academy, a year before the end of primary school.’

  ‘Any idea why, boss?’ Janey asked.

  ‘Oh yes.’ She paused for a moment then said, ‘There was an incident at a birthday party – Lexy Harris’s birthday. Lexy’s younger brother Sam, aged three, managed to escape from the garden. It was a long garden, lots of trees with a gate at the bottom. Easy for him to wander off, unnoticed. Most of the children were playing outside while Lexy’s mum set out the party food in the kitchen. Somehow – and Celia doesn’t know the details – Sam Harris managed to open the gate. Beyond the gate was a steep embankment that led to a fast-flowing stream. Sam must have missed his footing and tumbled down the bank. He fell into the stream and Celia thinks he hit his head, knocking him unconscious. By the time they found him he was dead. Drowned.’

  ‘Shit,’ someone said.

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘When was this?’ the DCI asked.

  ‘In the summer holidays. Between primaries six and seven. Ingrid’s parents took her out of the school immediately. They had planned to send her to Melville Academy after primary seven anyway but, with the upset over the little boy’s death, they brought the move forward a year.’