Lies to Tell

by Marion Todd

  Was that why he was so anxious about this trial? Had he given up Tamsin’s locations in return for a payoff? Was he trying to have it both ways – see Phil Quinn put away and all the while leaking information that would put his star witness in danger? And was he the reason Paddy Grant was still at liberty?

  A knot was forming in Clare’s stomach. If she was right, Tamsin could be in even more danger once the trial was over. If Phil Quinn was convicted, would the DCI be straight on the phone to Paddy to let him know Tamsin would be leaving the Market Street flat? She thought she had done the right thing, giving him that Alcatel phone so they could discuss Tamsin’s security without compromising her safety. But was she instead delivering Tamsin right into Paddy Grant’s hands, via the DCI?

  And then she gave herself a shake. What the hell was she thinking? The DCI was not the kind of officer who turned to the dark side for a few quid – was he? There was no getting away from the fact that someone had. And now Clare didn’t know who the hell to trust.

  * * *

  ‘I’ve got that footage,’ Chris said as she wandered back into the station.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘The footage from the Tay Road Bridge last night. The blue Transit. Hello? Anybody there?’

  Clare smiled. ‘Sorry, Chris. I was miles away. Is it on the portal?’

  He indicated for her to follow him and sat down at a computer, wiggling the mouse to bring the screen to life. ‘Okay… I’ll start it just a few seconds before the van appears and edge it forward, frame by frame.’

  Clare watched the footage as the van came into view. ‘Can you zoom in please?’

  Chris zoomed in and they both peered at the screen.

  ‘I’d say that’s Paddy Grant,’ Clare said.

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘But, where’s his sister? According to Wendy, when she’s spotted the blue Transit van the white-blonde woman was always in the passenger seat.’

  ‘Well she’s certainly not there now,’ Chris said. ‘Unless she’s crouching down; and, given how visible she’s been over the past few days, I can’t see why she would do that.’

  ‘So, Paddy’s in Dundee and Rose is still in Fife,’ Clare said.

  ‘Looks like it. Are Wendy and the undercover guys still at the flat?’

  ‘Yeah. They’ll be there until the trial is over.’

  ‘Well, that’s something.’

  ‘Chris – I wonder – I think I’ll get the press office to put out Rose Grant’s photo. Wanted in connection – something like that.’

  ‘On what grounds, though, Clare? She’s not done anything as far as we know.’

  ‘I’ll think of something. I could make a pretty good case for interfering with a witness, after her appearance at the High Court yesterday. I’m worried about Tamsin. Even if Phil Quinn does go away for a few years, with Paddy and Rose running around I’m not convinced she’ll be safe.’

  ‘Want me to phone the press officer?’

  Clare smiled. ‘Would you? I’m – well, I’ve a lot to think about today.’

  Chris looked at her for a few seconds. ‘You sure you’re okay?’

  She nodded. ‘Yeah. Just a headache.’

  ‘I’ll nip out to the shop and get you some paracetamol,’ he said, earning himself a grateful smile in return.

  After he left, Clare sat in her office, trying to order her thoughts. Then she rose suddenly from her chair. ‘To hell with this,’ she said, opening the office door and marching out. ‘Back shortly,’ she called, heading for the front entrance. Outside, she walked past the car park and onto Tom Morris Drive, taking a left turn towards a row of shops where she guessed Chris would be. As she approached the Spar shop she saw him come out, eating a bag of crisps.

  He saw Clare and his face flushed. ‘Don’t tell Sara,’ he said. ‘I just needed a treat. And you’ve no idea how good these taste.’ He held the pack out to Clare but she waved it away. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box. ‘Paracetamol.’

  Clare took the box from him. ‘How much do I owe you?’

  ‘Forget it. Anyway, I said I’d bring them back. What’s so urgent you’ve come to meet me? Has something happened?’

  Clare glanced round. The street was quiet but she wasn’t taking any chances. ‘Follow me,’ she said, leading him across to a large area of grass. ‘And switch your phone off.’

  Chris stopped in his tracks. ‘Clare, what the hell is going on? You know, I’ve just about had enough of this. Either you tell me what’s up or—’

  ‘Just calm yourself down,’ Clare said, powering off her phone. She nodded at Chris’s phone. ‘Off.’

  He stood, watching his phone until the display went blank, then followed her into the park. ‘This had better be good.’

  The park was quiet. A man was kicking a soft football towards a pair of giggling toddlers and a woman with a tennis ball launcher was attempting to tire out an exuberant collie, but it was otherwise empty. Clare led Chris over to the far end where there were a couple of benches. She sat on one and indicated for him to join her.

  He studied her face for a few seconds, then sat beside her. ‘So? What’s this all about?’

  She hesitated, wondering for a moment if she was doing the right thing. Then she took a deep breath. ‘Well, the first thing I have to tell you is that I’m probably for the high jump in the next few days. Might even get the sack.’ She glanced at him then away again. ‘It seems – and I’m not sure how – it seems I made a mistake with the invoice for policing that golf event. I undercharged the sponsors.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Seventy-two thousand less than I should have charged them.’

  Chris whistled. ‘Bloody hell, Clare. That’s not like you.’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m normally so careful, Chris. I could have sworn I made it out for the right amount.’

  ‘Checked your own copy?’

  ‘Yep. My copy’s wrong so it must be my mistake.’

  ‘Look, Clare, it’s not the end of the world. Godsake – when you consider the size of the police budget it’s a drop in the ocean. You’ll probably get a bollocking and that’ll be the end of it.’

  She looked at him. ‘You think so?’

  ‘Yeah. I mean they might make you clean the lavs for a couple of weeks but that’s about it. Anyway, would the DCI not put in a word for you? You and he seem quite chummy these days.’

  ‘Eh?’ Clare felt her cheeks flush. ‘What do you mean, chummy? He’s my boss, Chris.’ She realised she had spoken more sharply than she had intended.

  He held his hands up as if to defend himself. ‘Okay, chill, Clare. Just a joke.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So, what else?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘You said that was the first thing. What else is on your mind?’

  Clare didn’t reply.

  ‘Come on – you didn’t get me out here for nothing so let’s have it.’

  Clare looked down at the grass for a moment, then back at Chris. ‘Are you able – I mean, can you keep a secret from Sara?’

  Chris indicated the half-finished packet of crisps. ‘Obviously.’

  ‘No, Chris. I mean a really big secret. Probably the biggest secret you’ll ever be asked to keep.’

  ‘Fucksake, Clare. Now I’m really worried. Just tell me. I won’t breathe a word but tell me.’ He stared at her then his face cleared. ‘Hold on – it’s that woman, isn’t it? That Gayle person. I knew there was something up with her. All that bollocks about a new comms system. What is it then? She in the station to spy on us?’

  Clare allowed herself a smile. He didn’t realise how close he was to the truth. ‘Okay, Chris. But this is strictly for your ears only – no one else. Promise? If she finds out I’ve told you, I’m finished. I mean really finished.’

  ‘Okay, promise. So, go on. What’s she up to?’

  Clare met his eye. ‘She’s investigating a leak within Police Scotland.’

  ‘You what?�
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  ‘I know. And what’s more she’s found it. Someone has been tipping off organised crime groups when a raid has been planned. She won’t tell me who it is but she’s said I’ve to be very careful who I speak to. And now I don’t know who I can trust.’ She could feel tears pricking her eyes. The strain of the past week – having Gayle in the office, hunting Marek, keeping Tamsin safe, sleeping with the DCI and that stupid mistake over that invoice – she felt as if it was all coming crashing down on her.

  Chris was shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Chris, I couldn’t. If you’d seen that place—’

  ‘What place?’

  ‘Last Friday. Remember the DCI cancelled our meeting? He picked me up and drove to this – this place. I don’t know how to describe it, Chris. Middle of nowhere, like some kind of fortified bunker. Huge walls, cameras everywhere, body scanners – the full works. And that’s where I met her. She told me about the leak and she threatened me with the Official Secrets Act if I breathed a word. So, frankly, Chris, if you’re the leak, or you’re working for her, then I’m stuffed. I might as well hand you my warrant card now.’

  Chris looked at her. ‘It was that bad?’

  She nodded. ‘Scared me shitless, to be honest. And, if she finds out I’ve told you, it really will be the end of my career. She’ll see to it.’

  ‘It’s okay, Clare. I won’t breathe a word. But – do you know who she thinks is responsible for the leak?’

  Clare shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t say. But she implied it was someone I’m in touch with.’ In spite of the May sunshine, she shivered. ‘It’s horrible, not knowing who to trust, or if my phone calls are being recorded. She even hinted there could be bugs – listening in.’

  ‘Where?’

  Clare spread her hands. ‘Don’t ask me. But since last Friday I’ve been too scared to speak anywhere except out in the open.’

  ‘So that’s why you didn’t tell me about Tamsin Quinn?’

  Clare met his eye. ‘It just seemed safer to tell no one.’

  ‘But someone knew. Someone’s been leaking her locations.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Who knew where she was staying?’

  Clare said nothing.

  ‘Wendy?’ Chris suggested. ‘Surely not?’

  Clare shook her head. ‘I don’t think so – as far as I’m aware, she didn’t know about the safe house in Perth. There was a different liaison officer there. It’s only when Tamsin was moved to St Andrews that Wendy was brought in.’

  ‘Who arranged that?’

  ‘The Serious Organised Crime lads, as far as I know.’

  ‘It could be one of them.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it could be. But that’s quite scary, Chris. To have a leak in the very department responsible for our most covert ops.’

  ‘Certainly is. Then again…’ He paused.

  ‘Don’t say it, Chris.’

  ‘All I know, Clare, is that two people went to that bunker place, as you call it, last Friday. Now I know I trust you but…’

  ‘You don’t trust DCI Gibson?’

  ‘Let’s just say I have my doubts. And he has been hanging around here a lot, lately.’

  Clare felt her cheeks redden again but said nothing. She was trying not to think of the uncomfortable possibility that the DCI’s recent interest in her wasn’t entirely romantic. Was she being played by him?

  She glanced at her watch. ‘Come on – we’d better get back and see if anyone’s found Marek.’ She rose from the bench. ‘I’ll go first. Follow me in after five minutes, and don’t forget to switch your phone back on.’

  Chris nodded and Clare began walking back across the park towards the station, leaving her DS to take in what she’d just told him.

  Chapter 26

  It was just after four when Clare’s desk phone rang. Glancing at the display she saw it was Jenny, a Detective Sergeant from Dundee.

  ‘Bit of a situation, Clare,’ she said. ‘You’d better get yourself to the Tay Road Bridge.’

  * * *

  It took Clare and Chris just twenty minutes to reach the car park at the Fife end of the Tay Road Bridge, eleven miles north of St Andrews. They had taken a circuitous route, avoiding the A92 dual carriageway that led directly onto the bridge, knowing there would be long queues of traffic, waiting for it to reopen. A uniformed cop waved them into the South Access Car Park that led directly to the pedestrian walkway between the bridge carriageways. Clare drove past rows of parked cars and bikes, and a kiosk selling snacks and drinks. The end of the car park, nearest the bridge, had been taken over by emergency vehicles and Clare parked as close as she could to the ramp that led to the walkway. The car park was illuminated by the flashing lights of emergency vehicles and out in the river she could see the orange lifeboat, scrambled from its shed across the river in Broughty Ferry. The bridge itself was empty of traffic, having been blocked off at both ends, and the air was eerily silent.

  Jenny was waiting for them and she led Clare up a path that took them closer to the bridge legs. ‘He’s about a third of the way along,’ she said.

  Clare squinted up at the bridge as she followed Jenny. It towered above them, supported on a series of twin concrete columns which became shorter as the bridge neared the lower-lying Dundee end, and she thought how high it must seem to anyone up there, looking down into the fast-moving River Tay. She screwed up her eyes and scanned the bridge as they walked.

  ‘See him?’ Jenny said, stopping and leaning on the guardrail that bordered the path. She pointed up to the bridge, about half a mile along. ‘He’s standing on the outside of the barrier. We’ve a couple of negotiators up there with him now. Want a look?’ She handed Clare a set of binoculars.

  Clare took the binoculars and adjusted them until she could see Marek clearly. He was standing facing the bridge, his back to the water, holding on to the barrier with both hands. A few feet away were two uniformed officers, one female, one male. They seemed to be talking to Marek but he had his back to Clare, preventing her from seeing his face. She moved the binoculars down towards the river where the lifeboat was waiting. ‘The boat will pick him up if he jumps, won’t it?’ she asked Jenny.

  ‘It should do. But, at that height, if he drops and flails around, he’ll hit the water pretty hard. He might not survive the fall.’

  Clare handed the binoculars back to Jenny. ‘I’d like to go up. Speak to him.’

  ‘Sorry, Clare,’ Jenny said. ‘Look, I know you outrank me but the negotiators know what they’re doing. They talk folk down almost every week. Rarely does anyone go into the water.’

  ‘Jenny, I don’t think he’s a typical suicide. I think he’s up there because he’s frightened. Frightened of something he’s done or of someone who’s after him.’

  ‘Explain please.’

  Clare related the story of Marek coming into the station to report Johannes missing then taking flight. ‘I think either he’s killed Johannes and was reporting him missing to cover himself… or he’s afraid whoever killed Johannes is coming after him. Either way, he needs to know that I understand – that we’ll look after him.’

  Jenny clicked her radio and spoke into it. Then the response came.

  He’s coming back over.

  Wait till we give the say so then send the ambulance.

  No sirens, though.

  She turned to Clare. ‘Looks like it’s finished. They’ve persuaded him to climb back over.’

  Clare took the binoculars again and she saw the two officers, one on either side of Marek, helping him over the barrier. They had a firm grip on his arms and Clare saw the ambulance begin moving slowly along the carriageway, stopping short of the trio. Then Marek was led into the ambulance and he disappeared from view.

  ‘Where will they take him?’ she asked Jenny.

  ‘Greystane.’ She saw Clare’s blank look. ‘It’s a psychiatric unit in Dundee.’

  ‘Will he be admitted?’

>   ‘Oh yes. They’ll probably issue an Emergency Detention Certificate. It’ll let them keep him for the next three days while they assess him.’

  ‘Would they let me see him?’

  ‘Hm. Depends. If he’s very distressed then probably not – unless it’s an absolute emergency. You wouldn’t be able to interview him though. Anything he said wouldn’t be admissible in court.’

  Clare stood thinking. If Marek had killed Johannes then at least he would be somewhere secure – for the next three days at least. She could put a police guard on his room to make sure he didn’t leave. The staff would call her when he was fit to be questioned and, as long as she made sure a solicitor was present, she’d be able to take a statement. And, if he hadn’t killed Johannes and was in fear for his own life, well, he would be safe in Greystane. She turned to Chris. ‘I think we’ll take a run over there. Just to make sure the medical staff know not to let him leave.’

  ‘You want someone posted up there?’ Chris asked.

  ‘Yeah, I think so. Can you call Jim and ask him to arrange round-the-clock cover?’

  * * *

  Clare drove while Chris spoke to Jim.

  The phone call done, he said, ‘Why do you reckon he was up there?’

  ‘Take your pick. Running from us, running from what he’s done, running from someone else – who knows. Hopefully it won’t be too long before he can tell us.’

  ‘If he talks.’

  ‘There is that.’

  * * *

  Greystane House was a modern building finished in a white render. It had been flat-roofed originally and, at some point, pitched roofs had been added. There was a barrier across the car park and Clare pressed a button on an electronic panel. A few seconds later a disembodied voice said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Clare Mackay and Detective Sergeant Chris West. We’d like to speak to the duty doctor please.’

  The voice made no reply but seconds later the barrier lifted and Clare drove through. They parked near the entrance and made their way through a huddle of smokers standing around the door.