“Would you like a tea or coffee?” Dermot began.
Stefan shook his head. “I had a drink at the mortuary. Please, I just want to know how your investigation is developing?”
Dermot sat down opposite the man. “Firstly, on behalf of my team, I’d like to convey our sincere condolences to you and your family.”
Stefan nodded his acknowledgement.
Sharon could tell that Muir’s time with the diplomatic service had left its mark. She briefly considered whether Calder should give it a go.
The DI continued. “I’m afraid the post mortem examinations did not provide us with any conclusive answers. It seems both your parents suffered heart failure during the night of the 28th June. Your mother died approximately two hours after your father. Their medical records show both suffered from angina and took medicine for it?”
“Yes, my father’s heart condition was long-standing, but for our mum, it only developed in the last couple of years.”
“Had they been in any unusually stressful situations recently?”
Stefan considered this. “I’ll have to ask my sister, Mila. She spoke with our mother most days. But I would have to say no. They have lived in their house in Frankfurt for over twenty years. Father retired eight years ago. They were taking a trip to Scotland to see the sights. Their sudden deaths have no explanation for us.”
“I can understand the situation is frustrating,” Sharon interjected. “I have visited the hotel where Mr and Mrs Bauer were staying. The room has been thoroughly examined and the staff questioned. There was no trace of food poisoning in the kitchens, or emissions of carbon monoxide in the room. I realise that your parents dying within hours of one another is highly unusual, but these odd occurrences do happen.”
Stefan’s brown eyes began to pool with tears. “I want to see the room, the place where they died.”
Sharon glanced at her colleague. “Yes, we can arrange that.”
Stefan swept a hand across his face, clearly not willing to express his emotions in front of the detectives. “Mila and I have been reading the press coverage of our parents’ deaths here in your papers. Some journalists are speculating that our parents were killed by some kind of untraceable nerve agent. They are saying maybe my father was an informant for the West when he was still working as a scientist for the old GDR. It has upset my family a great deal.”
Dermot raised his hand. “It is extremely regrettable that some of the newspapers have seen fit to take this line. With the attack on the Skripals in Salisbury earlier this year, there have been some unhelpful comparisons drawn with your parents’ situation; being foreign nationals dying in unexplained circumstances. But let me be clear, there was absolutely no trace of any such substance present in your parents when they died. If there were, the hotel would have been quarantined immediately.”
“Yes, yes, I know this. It is a ridiculous story. My father began his career in a government-controlled research lab in East Germany. When the wall came down, he moved to a private company in Frankfurt. Many others did the same after re-unification. It is not a crime. And it certainly does not mean he was a spy.”
“No, of course it doesn’t,” Sharon soothed. “I recommend that you try to avoid reading the newspaper reports. It will only be upsetting for your family. It is best to liaise only with us. The circumstances of your parents’ deaths are unusual and will attract press attention. Without any solid answers there will be mis-information. It’s better to steer clear.”
Stefan leant forward, placing his hands on the table. “Mila and I are looking for answers too. It seems even the police cannot provide them.”
Dermot assumed a conciliatory tone. “We will arrange for you and your sister to visit the Berkley Hotel this afternoon. Do you have a mobile number we can reach you on?”
Stefan rooted in his trouser pocket for his phone. “Thank you, DI Muir. We would appreciate being allowed to visit the place our parents died. Because I can assure you, we will not be returning to Germany until we know more about what happened to them.”
Chapter 5
The couple seated on the leather sofa in Rhodri Morgan’s high-ceilinged sitting room looked lost and diminished amongst their surroundings.
Dani pulled her seat closer to them. “Mr and Mrs Carlisle, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
The lady dipped her head sadly. “Thank you for your kind words. Please call us Betsy and Mike.”
Rhodri entered with a tray of coffees. “The detective chief inspector has spoken with the Metropolitan Police,” he declared, doling out the china cups.
Betsy Carlisle was a neat, attractive woman with waved hair that was dyed a deep chestnut colour. Her husband was taller but with a thin frame. His face was healthily tanned but gaunt and slack with grief.
“Thank you for taking the time to do that,” Mike commented. “We really didn’t want to make a fuss, but still, the situation felt extremely unsatisfactory.”
Dani had a sudden and strong urge to help this couple who, ‘didn’t want to make a fuss’. In her experience, they were usually the people with the greatest cause for complaint. “I spoke with DI Lawrence. He supplied me with their forensic analyses and witness statements.” She sipped her coffee. “I can see why they came to the conclusions they did.”
“Yes, on the surface, the evidence seems to suggest that Autumn took her own life,” Betsy stated. “But I’d spoken with her only days before. Our daughter was full of plans for her future at Lomond Airlines. She’d only been in the new job for a few months. Autumn was such a determined, focused person.”
Rhodri adopted a kindly tone. “People can change, Betsy, especially if they have been experiencing a mental health crisis. Autumn may not have shared her innermost feelings with you.”
Mike put down his cup. “Actually, she had shared something with us, the last time she was visiting in Cumberbauld.”
Betsy shot him a warning glance. “We weren’t going to mention that.”
Mike shrugged. “If the detective inspector is giving up her time to help us, she deserves to know everything.”
Dani nodded encouragingly. “Anything you can tell me about your daughter would be of assistance.”
The man sighed heavily. “Autumn stayed with us for a couple of nights in May. I came downstairs at about 2am for a drink of water and found her sitting on the sofa with a book. I asked what was wrong. She told me that she’d been having difficulty sleeping. It’d been going on since she’d moved out of her old cottage.”
Betsy clasped her husband’s hand. “It was most unusual for her. Autumn was always a good sleeper, she was the same as a baby. Out like a light without a care in the world. She was born on a beautiful October day; her wisps of auburn hair matched the leaves that covered the grounds of the hospital. It’s the reason we gave her the name.”
Mike smiled at his wife tolerantly. “She’d been suffering from nightmares. I made her a mug of warm milk and she described the dreams to me.”
Rhodri was listening with interest.
“Autumn would wake in the middle of the night with her heart racing. Sometimes she had dreamt of plane crashes and of falling from the sky, but most often, she saw a glowing eye watching her from out of the darkness. This disturbed her the most.”
“What did she mean by an ‘eye’?” Rhodri asked keenly, knowing that dreams could be full of symbols from deep within the psyche.
Mike shook his head in frustration. “I didn’t question her enough about it. I was trying to persuade her that it was just a phase, it would pass. I suppose I was trying to downplay the whole thing.”
“They sound like typical anxiety dreams,” Dani added. “Your daughter had recently moved home and started a new job, one with management responsibilities. Her disturbed sleep could simply have reflected the stress she’d been under.”
“Was that enough to cause her to do what she did? People change jobs all the time and move house, it’s possible to cope with that, isn’t it?” Betsy w
as ringing a handkerchief in her lap, her tone agitated.
“For what it’s worth, Betsy, there were a few details that left me dissatisfied with the verdict of the police. I’m going to contact the Medical Examiner and ask him to delay the inquest whilst I look into the case further.”
Mike rose to his feet. “Really? I can’t thank you enough, DCI Bevan.”
“Please don’t raise your hopes. It’s unlikely I’m going to find any drastically new evidence.”
“No, but Rhodri thinks very highly of you. If you look into things and discover that Autumn did take her own life, we will be prepared to accept it.”
Dani sipped her coffee slowly. She hoped the faith this couple seemed to have in her would not prove to be misplaced.
*
Dermot Muir took the upright chair in Dani’s office, whilst Andy and Sharon perched next to each other on the tiny sofa, their knees nearly up to their chests, like little children.
Dani flipped through the file of notes. “Stefan Bauer mentioned his father used to work for the East German government, back when it was Soviet controlled, before communism collapsed in 1990 and Germany re-unified. Do we know what kind of work he actually did?”
Sharon raised her head. “He was working as a Biochemist for a pharmaceutical company in Frankfurt before he retired. To be honest, I’ve no idea what he did before that. I’d have to contact some people in Germany to find out more. I didn’t think it would be relevant, Ma’am. There’s no evidence to suggest the Bauers’ deaths were deliberate. His past life didn’t seem important.”
Dani crinkled her brow. “Well, the press seems to have been exploring this angle. I wouldn’t like to think we were missing a trick.”
Dermot cut in, “it appears some journalists are determined to make a connection between these deaths and the nerve agent attack in Salisbury. There have been hints that some special poison was used which leaves no traces. It’s pure fantasy.” He cleared his throat. “I called one of my contacts in the intelligence service. I worked with their officers in my role at the Diplomatic Branch.”
Andy rolled his eyes.
“They had no record of either Greta or Klaus Bauer ever having worked for the Stasi or having provided information to the British or US secret services.”
Dani nodded. She was impressed. “Then are we ready to pass the documents over to the Procurator Fiscal’s Office, for them to reach their final verdict?”
“I’d say so, Ma’am,” Sharon said with confidence. “Andy and I took Stefan and Mila Bauer to view the room where their parents died. They both cried a bit and the hotel manager gave them tea in the lounge. I believe they were placated by the visit.”
“Okay,” Dani crossed her arms over her chest. “Looks like we’re ready to sign this one off.”
The officers stood, recognising the signal to return to their desks.
“Andy, can you stay behind a moment?”
Sharon and Dermot swept from the room, closing the door behind them.
Andy dropped into the chair in front of his boss. “Is anything wrong, Ma’am?”
“No, I just wanted an update on how Dermot was slotting in.”
Andy smirked. “Fine, actually. Even if he does think he’s James Bond.”
“His experience with the diplomatic unit could prove very useful to us. He’s bringing a new set of skills to the table.”
“I suppose so.” Andy’s posture slouched, like a recalcitrant teenager.
“I want you to do your best to welcome Dermot into the team.”
“But he’s only temporary, Ma’am. Alice will be back in a few months.”
“We’ve been short-staffed since Phil left. If I can keep Dermot and Alice, it would be the perfect scenario for the SCU. We’d all benefit from a lighter workload.”
Andy was on his feet. “Certainly, Ma’am. I’ll do my best.”
Dani watched her old friend lumber back to his workstation and sling his jacket over the back of his chair. She wondered if he’d taken any notice of her request at all.
Chapter 6
Warm rain was pounding the pavement as Dani approached the entrance to the police station on Hammersmith Road in London. She sat in her damp suit in a side room off the reception area for a full half an hour before anyone came to greet her.
When a tall, good-looking man in his mid-thirties threw open the door, the DCI tried to hide her irritation at the delay.
He extended one of his rangy arms. “You must be DCI Bevan, pleased to meet you. DI Nathan Lawrence.”
“Call me Dani, please.” She returned his surprisingly warm handshake.
“Likewise, I’m known as Nate. No point in standing on ceremony.”
Dani followed him along a corridor and up a flight of stairs to the floor which she assumed housed the criminal investigation unit. Nate weaved between the rows of desks until he found his own, dragging out a chair for her to sit on.
“You’ve come a long way, Dani. I hope this won’t be a wasted trip for you.” Nate leant back in his seat, appraising his visitor with piercing blue eyes. His expression was friendly, but the DCI still got the faint impression he was mocking her.
“I’d like to view Autumn Carlisle’s flat, if that’s possible, and if I could take a look at her laptop and personal effects that would be helpful too?”
“Sure. We’ve got them bagged up in the evidence room downstairs. One of the DCs, Trudy Gifford, analysed the computer and phone. I’ll introduce you.” He examined her face for a moment. “What did you say your connection was to this case again? It’s got a personal angle, right?”
Dani endeavoured to shake her sense that the detective’s manner was abrasive. “There is a psychologist back in Glasgow who I have liaised with on a number of cases. He is friends with Autumn Carlisle’s parents. He doesn’t feel the evidence suggests suicide. I have learnt to take his opinion very seriously. He was the practitioner who helped to resolve the Ian Cummings’ murders, from back in the eighties. We worked closely with the Met over that. The results were widely publicised. It was quite a coup for the force.”
Nate shrugged his broad shoulders, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I did read about it, yes. But with respect, Ma’am, I’ve never come across an intervention like this in an active investigation before, not from another division so far away, certainly.” He met her eyes with his steely gaze once again. “But what the hell, we all want to get to the truth, don’t we?”
Dani nodded, not trusting herself to reply. She needed this man on side if she was going to get the kind of access to the evidence that she wanted.
Nate stood, gesticulating to a middle-aged woman who sat a couple of desks down. “Hey, Trudy! Can you spend an hour or so with Dani here? She wants the lowdown on the Carlisle laptop data.”
“Of course,” the woman replied cheerfully.
Dani got to her feet too, retreating from the vicinity of DI Lawrence as swiftly as possible.
*
The rain had stopped, but the skies remained grey over west London. Dani was driven by DC Trudy Gifford to the address of the Victorian conversion in Hillingdon where the top floor comprised of Autumn Carlisle’s flat.
As she stepped onto the pavement, Dani almost cowered as the sudden roar of a commercial aircraft exploded overhead. “Good God!” she exclaimed. “Do they always come in that low? The undercarriage practically skimmed the roof of that house!”
Trudy nodded tolerantly. “Yep, around here they do. I live just the other side of the Hammersmith Flyover. We’re hoping this new runway isn’t going to make our street just like this one.”
Dani glanced cautiously at the skies above them. She wasn’t at all sure she could live this way. But then, perhaps people got used to it. To her, it felt akin to living in a war zone.
The flat was up two flights of stairs. A cross of police tape was still securing the front door. Trudy ripped it out of the way and turned a key in the lock. “We’ll be passing the place back to the landlord in a few
days. He wants to get it rented out again quick. There’s a high demand for these properties from workers at Heathrow.”
Dani stepped into a narrow corridor with stripped oak floorboards and Velux windows in the eaves. A small kitchen was positioned off to one side. Everything in it appeared brand new.
As if following Dani’s train of thought, Trudy stated, “the flat was completely re-furbished last year. It doesn’t seem as if Miss Carlisle used the kitchen much after she moved in.”
“I suppose she was away a lot,” Dani added, noting the occupant had put up a couple of framed photographs on the walls of the lounge area. They were mostly of exotic locations minus human life. Only one was of Autumn herself, posing on a bridge in what appeared to be Amsterdam.
“This is the important bit,” Trudy explained, leading Dani into a master bedroom with connecting en-suite, which was built into the narrowest projection of the eaves. It was immediately evident where the technicians had labelled blood splatters in the otherwise pristine bathroom.
“The clothes on the bed, the razor and night clothes were all bagged up for forensic testing. You can view those back at the station.” Trudy retreated to the doorway, allowing her superior to examine the room in peace.
Dani drank in the scene. The bed had been stripped, but the mattress and divan were clearly top of the range. She flicked through the clothes hanging on the rails in the wardrobe. They were mostly designer casual wear. The drawers emitted a perfumed scent as she tugged them open and were filled with fancy underwear, which Dani noted was tasteful rather than tarty.
The DCI stood at the end of the bed, trying to imagine the thought processes that would have been running through Autumn’s head as she decided not to put on the clothing she’d laid out so carefully on her expensive sheets, but instead to take a razor from a bathroom cabinet and slit her wrists, accepting that her life was over and no hope remained.
The Eye in the Dark Page 3