What They Knew

by Marion Todd

  ‘Were we involved?’ Janey asked.

  ‘Only initially. It was logged as a tragic accident. Now, Lexy’s name is on that class list so we know she started primary seven with the rest of the class. But, as far as Celia can recall the family moved away a few months later. Just before Christmas, she thought.’

  ‘Ah, so that’s why she’s on that class list and Ingrid’s not,’ Chris said.

  Clare nodded. ‘The list was compiled at the start of the academic year.’

  ‘Where is Lexy now?’ the DCI asked.

  ‘Not sure,’ Clare said. ‘Has anyone managed to track her down?’

  Heads shook. ‘Got Ben McEwan, though,’ Gary said.

  Clare nodded. ‘So it’s just Lexy Harris and John Mason we’re looking for.’

  ‘Lexy is your priority,’ the DCI said. ‘It’s her brother who died at that party. If there’s any link with the deaths, we have to start with her.’

  They fell silent for a moment then Janey said, ‘So where do we go from here, boss?’

  ‘We need to find everyone who was at that birthday party. I’m not exactly sure how but I’m afraid it means going back to the WhatsApp group again.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Bill said. ‘They’ll be sick of the sight of us.’

  ‘Better than putting a tag on their toes,’ Clare said. ‘As DCI Gibson says, Lexy Harris is your number one priority. We need to speak to her parents too. So, the usual please. Voters’ roll, phone book – you know the drill.’

  ‘Is that all she said, boss?’ Sara asked.

  Clare hesitated. ‘That lad in the photo – John Mason – she said he was a bit of a loner. Not many friends but the girls took him under their wing. She actually used the words poor soul about him. I’m not sure it’s significant but there was something about the way she said it…’

  ‘No luck tracking him down so far,’ Janey said. ‘If he is a bit vulnerable, maybe he’s just opted out of society.’

  Clare nodded. ‘Could be.’ She looked round the room and spotted Gillian. ‘Gill, would you get back onto the Education Department please? See if their records show if Lexy and John went on to college or uni. Or if they found jobs. I’m pretty sure the Scottish Government collects data on school leavers so it should be recorded. It might point us in the right direction.’

  Clare glanced at the DCI to see if he had anything further to say but he shook his head. ‘Right,’ she said, starting for the door. ‘That’s it for now. But keep in touch.’

  They turned back to their laptops and phones and began their enquiries. Clare, Chris and the DCI headed for her office.

  ‘What’s your gut feeling, Clare?’ he asked.

  ‘I just don’t know. But something about the way Celia said John Mason was a poor soul worries me.’ She fell silent for a moment then said, ‘Chris, could you dig out the press reports of Sam Harris’s death please?’

  ‘Sure. Any idea how long ago?’

  ‘Let’s think… the murdered women were all thirty-three and it was the summer between primary six and seven, so they’d have been, what, eleven?’ She counted back in her head. ‘Better start from twenty-three years ago and work forward.’

  ‘Okay,’ Chris said.

  ‘That lad,’ the DCI began.

  ‘John Mason?’

  ‘Yes, him. Bit odd, a lad of that age, hanging about with girls.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  The DCI sat back in his chair as if trying to order his thoughts. Then he said, ‘I’m just wondering… if he was at that party, maybe he did something to Sam Harris – maybe he was a bit disturbed.’

  ‘Would that not have come out at the time?’

  ‘Not if there were no witnesses. That head teacher said there were lots of trees in the garden. Could be he found a spot where no one could see him.’

  Clare began to see what he was saying. ‘And, if he did, maybe he’s worried those girls know something…’

  ‘…and he’s making sure they don’t talk?’ Chris added.

  Clare thought for a moment then shook her head. ‘I don’t buy it. I mean I can see that might have happened, but why now? Why wait twenty-odd years to silence them?’

  * * *

  It was almost six o’clock when Sara tapped on Clare’s office door. ‘Those two medical folk from Attracto, boss…’

  Clare was reading Ruth Williams’s post-mortem report again, in the hope of finding something – some clue to the mind of the killer. But the more she read it the more muddled she became. She looked up and yawned. ‘Tell me some good news, Sara – please?’

  Sara shook her head. ‘Sorry. I mean it’s progress of a sort but it doesn’t help.’

  ‘Go on, then.’

  ‘The doctor and the lab technician – they were the two on Attracto with a medical background.’

  ‘Both checked out?’

  ‘Yeah. Finn Macdonald was in Ireland for two weeks over Christmas. So he definitely couldn’t have killed Alison or Ingrid.’

  ‘And our doctor?’

  ‘Helen Armstrong. She was away last weekend, when Ruth Williams died. She was at a medical conference in Sheffield. Checked into the hotel on Friday night, gave a speech on the Saturday and took part in focus groups on the Sunday. She didn’t travel back up until Monday morning.’

  Clare sighed. ‘Okay, thanks Sara.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Tell the team to pack it in for tonight. I’ll do a handover to the Inspector in Dundee. Back in sharp tomorrow morning.’

  * * *

  Clare’s resolve to do more home cooking weakened in the face of weariness and she phoned for a pizza delivery. Moira’s husband Bill had dropped off a load of logs and she filled a stout bag with these and knelt down to light the fire. With her back to the sofa and Benjy’s head on her knee she sat on the rug, feeling the heat from the fire on her face as the kindling sparked and spat. She’d opened a bottle of red wine too, not even stopping to check the label, and she set her glass down on the hearth as she munched on pizza. Sometimes, she thought, it was good to have a treat. Her laptop lay discarded on the sofa and she heard a ping from it. She wiped her hands on a piece of kitchen roll and turned it round. A message from the DCI.

  She shook Benjy off her knee and lifted the pizza box out of his reach, putting it on the dining table. Then she sat down on the sofa and clicked to open the message.

  Hi Clare.

  Hope you’re not still at work?

  She looked for the tell-tale dots, indicating he was typing but there were none. She typed back,

  Hi Al.

  Home now, thank goodness.

  Sitting, having pizza by the fire. You?

  The dots appeared and she waited while he typed. Then she read,

  Fire? Lucky you.

  I’ve been waiting on a guy installing a wood burner for weeks now.

  Supposed to be in before Christmas.

  Just had a stir-fry though.

  Clare was about to type a reply but she saw the dots again so she waited. And then the message appeared.

  Just wanted to check you’re okay.

  You seemed tired today.

  I know this case is a huge strain but we’ll get there.

  We’ll get him.

  She read this over twice. It wasn’t the kind of message she was used to having from a DCI – from her boss. Admittedly they’d come close to being more than that at one time. But, since then he’d been, well, more distant. And here he was now, wanting to check she was okay. Was this simply the act of a caring boss, or was there more to it than that? Suddenly her appetite deserted her. She reached for the wine glass and took a long drink. There were no more dots now. He was waiting for her to reply. But what to say? Was she reading too much into it? Or was he waiting for some small sign from her. And then the dots started again. But this time the message said,

  Hold on – email from Europol.

  Clare held her breath. Was this it? News of Jessica Peters? The woman who’d tried to persuade the three victims t
o sign up for a dating site – a site where two of them had been contacted by a man called Stoneman? A man who was using someone else’s photo. Was Jessica behind it all? And had the police in France found her? If they hadn’t, might that mean she was here in St Andrews, orchestrating the murders of her classmates?

  The wait seemed endless, her eyes fixed on the message, waiting for the dots to indicate he was typing again. A spark from a log startled her. Benjy, disturbed from his sleep, gave a low growl. And then the trill from her phone cut through the air and she snatched it up, glancing at the display. Al Gibson.

  ‘Al?’

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then he said, ‘Clare, I’m sorry.’

  She waited, not daring to breathe.

  ‘Jessica Peters died five years ago.’

  Thursday, 14th January

  Chapter 46

  ‘They’re absolutely sure?’ Chris said as they waited for the incident room to fill up.

  ‘Yep. They emailed over a copy of the death certificate. She died in hospital in Perpignan.’

  ‘Cause of death?’

  ‘From what I can gather, some kind of cancer.’

  ‘So, who knew about that, I wonder?’

  Clare nodded. ‘Yep. Whoever took over her identity must have known she was dead – and banked on no one else finding out about it, with her being in France.’

  ‘Bit of a risk.’

  ‘Maybe. Not impossible, though. Send out a few messages to former classmates saying you’re trying to get in touch with her. You’d soon find out if anyone knew she’d died.’

  Sara entered the room and made for a desk near the back. She settled on the edge of it and gave Chris a shy smile. He beamed back.

  ‘All set for Saturday?’ Clare whispered.

  ‘I reckon so. She thinks she’s going out with her friends. They’ve said a posh restaurant so she’s bought a new dress.’

  ‘She’s going to wonder why you’re putting your kilt on, though.’

  ‘It’s fine. One of the friends has said they’ll have prosecco at her house so she’ll be out by six. Plenty of time for me to change and get over to the hotel.’

  Clare smiled at him. ‘Chris, I think it’s a lovely thing to do. She’ll be thrilled.’

  ‘Hope so.’ He glanced at the door. They were nearly all in. ‘DCI coming up?’

  Clare shook her head. ‘Not this morning. I’m updating him by phone.’

  Chris raised an eyebrow but Clare ignored it.

  ‘Did you check up on Sam Harris’s death?’

  He was about to reply when the hubbub in the room died away and they all turned to face Clare. She moved to stand in front of the board.

  ‘Right, everyone. I’ll make this as short as I can. The DCI heard from Europol last night.’ She paused, knowing the impact her words would have, then went on. ‘Jessica Peters died in France five years ago.’

  ‘Eh?’ someone said.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s true. So someone is posing as Jessica, using a VPN to disguise her location…’

  ‘Or his,’ Janey said.

  ‘Indeed.’

  Bill raised his hand. ‘Why not ask one of the WhatsApp group to message her? Draw her out.’

  Clare considered this. It was worth a shot. She glanced at Chris. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘We could ask the hairdresser.’

  ‘Michelle Delaney? Yes, I suppose. She might not want to, though. Doesn’t seem fair, involving her.’

  Nita raised her hand. ‘Boss, I know it’s not exactly ethical but, since we can’t get hold of Lexy Harris, could one of us…’

  ‘Stop right there, Nita,’ Clare said. ‘If you’re suggesting we send messages impersonating Lexy, then it’s out.’

  ‘But Lexy does appear to be connected to this case,’ Nita persisted.

  Clare shook her head. ‘We’d be breaking the law. I’m sorry guys but it has to be no.’

  ‘What if it’s the only way to find out who’s behind the messages?’ Chris said.

  Clare hesitated. It was a good point. But she couldn’t take the risk. Even if they did find the person sending the messages, it would come out in court and she’d be lucky to keep her job. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘I know. But we can’t do it. At least, it’s way above my pay grade.’

  There were a few murmurs round the room. Chris was looking at her and even Sara was frowning.

  ‘Look, if we exhaust all other avenues I’ll speak to the DCI. But, in the meantime, Sam Harris’s death, Chris?’

  Chris got to his feet. ‘Nothing much more than the headteacher told us. Police attended, found Sam face down in the burn, unresponsive. He was taken to Ninewells Hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival. Parents distraught. Gate was normally kept latched. They weren’t sure if someone had lifted the latch out of curiosity, but no further action was taken.’

  ‘Thanks, Chris.’ Clare looked back at the team. ‘What about Lexy and her parents? Anyone tracked them down?’

  Nita took up her notepad. ‘They moved to England, boss. Bristol. Stayed there for a couple of years. Then the parents split up. Father stayed in the family home, mother and Lexy moved out.’

  ‘Do we know where they went?’

  ‘No. Father died a few years later. Local cops have been round to speak to the neighbours. One of them said Lexy’s mother was talking about changing her name. Apparently a local paper had run a feature on Sam’s death and it had renewed interest in the case.’

  ‘Okay, Nita. We should be able to trace her, then. Got her new name?’

  ‘Sorry, boss. Not so far, and, from what I can gather, you can change your name by deed poll but you don’t have to register the new name.’

  Clare gaped. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yep. They recommend it but it’s not mandatory.’

  ‘Ideal if you do want to drop off the radar,’ Chris said.

  Clare frowned. ‘Is that it, Nita? Nothing else?’

  ‘I’ve maybe got something, boss. The mother worked for a hotel chain…’ Nita glanced down at her notepad again. ‘Stelling Hotels. So she could have moved about with them.’

  ‘I know it,’ Clare said. ‘There’s one in Glasgow. Out the west end. Can we find her through that, please?’

  ‘I’m on it,’ Nita said.

  ‘Okay. If not, try HMRC. They should be able to check her National Insurance number.’ She looked round the room again. ‘What about Lexy – any luck?’

  Erin shook her head. ‘Nothing yet, boss. But if we do find the mother, there’s a good chance of finding Lexy.’

  Clare nodded. ‘Okay. Classmates – Gillian, you were phoning the Education Department again. Did you find anyone who went into medicine or science?’

  Gillian nodded. ‘Yeah, they pulled it off the database. But they could only tell me what the pupils’ plans were at the time they left the school.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Only two went down medical routes. One’s an ambulance driver in Manchester now…’

  ‘Checked him out?’

  ‘Yeah. Been on regular shifts for the past couple of weeks. I doubt he’s involved.’

  ‘And the other?’

  ‘John Mason.’

  ‘What?’ It was out before Clare could stop herself. Surely this was the break they’d been waiting for. ‘Tell me?’

  ‘Left school and started a nursing degree at Dundee uni. But he’s not registered with the Nursing and Midwifery Council so I spoke to the uni. Seems he dropped out after first year.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Still trying to find him. Should have an address this morning, boss.’

  ‘Get hold of me when you do. We need to pick him up.’

  As they filed out of the incident room Chris said, ‘What do you want to do first, Clare?’

  She hesitated. ‘Look, I’m not willing to send messages impersonating Lexy.’

  ‘Yeah, I get that.’

  ‘But maybe we could persuade Michelle Delaney to send
Jessica Peters a message.’

  ‘Definitely worth a shot. Want to head along there now?’

  * * *

  Michelle Delaney was brushing colour on a client’s hair then wrapping it in foils when Clare and Chris arrived at Razor. A young girl with jet black hair was at the counter and she eyed them nervously. But, before she could speak, Michelle glanced across.

  ‘Give me five minutes,’ she said, and Clare smiled her thanks. They sat down on the bench watching Michelle expertly applying the colour while the pixie-cut woman backwashed a man’s hair at one of the sinks. Eventually Michelle finished and she passed the woman a magazine and wheeled her trolley over to Clare and Chris. ‘Pretty busy today,’ she said.

  ‘Can you spare us five minutes?’ Clare asked and Michelle nodded.

  They followed her through to the back room again. Michelle closed the door and turned to face them.

  Clare had decided not to let Michelle know that Jessica Peters was dead. ‘Michelle, we really need to get in touch with Jessica Peters, but we can’t track her down.’

  Michelle frowned. ‘You think she’s keeping a low profile?’

  Clare was grateful for the suggestion. ‘Yes, we think so. Thing is, she might have a reason for not wanting to contact us.’

  ‘Some folk can be funny with the police,’ Chris suggested, continuing the theme.

  ‘Yeah, I can see that,’ Michelle said. ‘So you want me to message her?’

  ‘Would you mind? Even if we had some clue as to where she was it would be a huge help.’

  Michelle shrugged. ‘Suppose. It’s not like we were that friendly, though.’ She reached in a pocket for her phone. ‘Want me to do it now?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Okay. You’ll need to tell me what to say, though.’

  Clare thought for a minute, then she said, ‘How about…’

  Hi Jessica

  Hope you’re well.

  I could do with some help, if you have time. If you’re back from France just now, could I pick your brains pls? I’ve a cousin wanting to find work out there.