Lies to Tell

by Marion Todd

  ‘I thought this was meant to be a secure hospital,’ Clare said, her voice low.

  ‘I suppose they’ll have secure wards,’ Chris said. ‘But I’m guessing most folk are here voluntarily.’

  At the reception desk Clare explained their mission and they were asked to wait. After ten minutes she tried again. Eventually, a harassed-looking doctor appeared and Clare explained she would like to question Marek as soon as he was deemed competent.

  ‘I’m issuing an EDC,’ the doctor said. ‘He has to be examined properly and that won’t be tonight now. We’ll keep him here for at least the next three days.’

  Clare secured a promise from the doctor that he would let them know as soon as Marek was fit to be interviewed. ‘And I’ll be sending an officer over to make sure Marek doesn’t leave,’ she said. The doctor nodded at this and returned to his charges.

  Outside, they made their way back through the fug of cigarette smoke and headed for the car. An ambulance was arriving and Clare wondered about the person inside. Was it another attempted suicide, like Marek? Or someone disturbed enough to be a dangerous? Whatever it was, her heart went out to anyone unwell enough to be admitted to Greystane House. Her phone buzzed as she clicked to unlock the car. She frowned at the display. A message from the DCI.

  Chief Superintendent wants to see us both on Monday.

  He’s talking about disciplinary proceedings.

  I’ll see what I can do with the Accounts folk before then.

  Leave it with me.

  A

  Clare swore under her breath.

  ‘Problem?’ Chris said.

  ‘Just my career going down the tubes,’ she said, tucking the phone back in her pocket.

  As they drove out of the car park they saw a police car heading towards them. Clare recognised the number plate and flashed the car, indicating it should stop. It was Sara. Clare explained the situation then left Sara to it, Chris giving her a cheery wave as they drove off.

  ‘So,’ he said, as they headed back down towards the bridge.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t know what I was going to say.’

  ‘No, I am not stopping for chips on the way back. Just because Sara’s going to be occupied for the next few hours doesn’t mean I have to be complicit in you breaking your diet. You’ve already had a bag of crisps today.’

  ‘You’ve got really boring in your old age, Inspector.’

  * * *

  As they approached the bridge they joined a slow-moving queue.

  ‘I thought this would have cleared by now,’ Clare said.

  Chris glanced round at the traffic. ‘Dunno. Could take a while, I suppose.’

  After a few minutes they joined the bridge, gradually picking up speed.

  ‘Do you think he’d have gone through with it?’ Chris asked, looking at the barriers. ‘Jumped?’

  Clare considered this. ‘I’m not sure, Chris. Until we find out why he disappeared, it’s hard to know how far he might have gone.’

  ‘We really need to speak to him, Clare.’

  ‘I know. But it’s the doctor’s call. If we did force the issue, he could claim anything he said was given under duress.’

  ‘Yeah, okay. So what about our star witness then? What happens to her once the trial is over?’

  Clare hesitated. She had no idea if their car might be bugged. Was she being ridiculous? She decided she couldn’t take the chance. ‘Actually, Chris, I meant to call Jenny back. You know – the DS in Dundee who was at the bridge this afternoon? Could you get her on the phone please?’

  Chris looked at her for a minute and then he seemed to understand. He picked up her phone and found Jenny’s number. He dialled and put it on speaker.

  ‘Hi, Clare. How’s the lad?’

  ‘He seems okay, thanks, Jen. They’re keeping him for the next three days, as you said, but I’m hoping we’ll be able to question him sooner than that. Your guys did a good job, talking him down.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re pretty good. They get plenty of practice these days. There must be something in the air tonight though – they’ve just brought another one off.’

  ‘What – tonight?’ Clare was shocked. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yep. A woman this time. In fact, she must have been arriving just as you were leaving. We’ve only just cleared the bridge.’

  Clare remembered the ambulance. ‘I think I saw them arrive.’

  ‘Yeah, could be. Mind you, it’s a busy place in the evenings.’

  She ended the call just as they were approaching Guardbridge.

  ‘I really am hungry,’ Chris said.

  Clare was pretty peckish herself. The chip shop was just off the roundabout they were approaching. She glanced at him. ‘If you breathe so much as a word to Sara about this, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you and I’ll get away with it because I know how!’

  ‘Scouts honour.’

  * * *

  Clare insisted they eat their fish suppers outside. ‘I don’t want anyone to smell chips in this car,’ she said.

  Chris indicated a low stone wall next to the chip shop and they sat down to eat. ‘I’d forgotten how great this tastes,’ he said, munching on a crispy piece of batter.

  ‘Yep. Pretty good. All the same, don’t go undoing all that good work.’ She studied his waistline. ‘It has made a difference, all this healthy eating.’

  Chris nodded. ‘Yeah, I know. And Sara – well, I get it, Clare. After she was attacked last year, all that time in hospital, it made her much more conscious of her health. The doctors said she had recovered so quickly because she was fit and healthy. And, after all she went through, well if this is what she wants to do, then I have to support her.’

  Clare licked her fingers, wiping them on a tissue from her pocket. ‘She’s good for you, Sara.’

  Chris smiled. ‘Yes, Clare. I think she is.’

  Friday, 22 May

  Chapter 27

  Diane sent a WhatsApp message while Clare was having breakfast.

  Parkrun tomorrow.

  Fancy coming down to Lochore?

  Clare tapped a message back to say she was looking after her nephew but would definitely join Diane the following Saturday. She added a line asking how Craig, the new assistant, was working out. Diane replied, saying he was great, that he just got on with things and she was catching up with the backlog.

  Clare sent a message back saying she was really pleased and would hear all about it next Saturday at the parkrun. Diane replied that it was a date, and Clare rose to clear away her breakfast dishes. As she loaded the dishwasher she considered the day ahead, wondering if there would be a verdict in the Phil Quinn trial. She really hoped he would be convicted but you could never tell with juries.

  Her thoughts turned to the DCI and she wondered about his attitude to that mistake with the invoice. Any other boss would have torn her off a strip but he seemed almost eager to help. Was it because they had shared something the other night? Something more than a drunken mistake? He had said – what was it – that he had always admired her? But could he honestly go on admiring someone who had made such a blunder? Perhaps, underneath that stiff work persona, Al Gibson really was a decent guy. What was it Robert Burns had written? The rank is but the guinea stamp? He was right about that.

  But was the DCI helping her out of misplaced loyalty? Gratitude for her sleeping with him? Guilt, even? And had she now blown this potential relationship like every one that had gone before?

  She thought about Tom – her ex back in Glasgow – he had wanted to move up to St Andrews to be with her. Marry her, even. But Clare couldn’t forget that when she had needed him most he hadn’t been there for her. When she had been under investigation for shooting dead a young lad in a hostage situation she had asked him to be with her at the inquiry. But there had been a conflict of interest with Tom’s employer and he had put work before Clare, leaving her to face the inquiry alone. No, Clare couldn’t forgive or forget that. And now Tom was marrying s
omeone else.

  Then Geoffrey Dark had come along – a chance encounter when she was investigating a series of hit-and-run murders. His expertise in wood carvings had helped her track down the culprit and a relationship had blossomed. She had thought they were in it for the long game and then he had announced he was moving to Boston for a few years. Admittedly he had asked Clare to go with him but the ease with which he dismissed her ties to St Andrews had been a wakeup call for Clare. Perhaps the beginning of the end – or so she was starting to think.

  And now Al Gibson – the DCI – he had appeared on her doorstep at just the right time and they had sought comfort in red wine and sex. But now, she had put him in an impossible situation with the Chief Superintendent.

  She was starting to wonder if she had a self-destruct button when it came to relationships. An impulse seized her and she picked up her phone, tapping a quick message.

  Fingers crossed for the right result today

  Minutes later the DCI replied with Thanks Clare, and a fingers-crossed emoticon. Clare looked at it and felt faintly disappointed. But then what had she expected? This was work, she told herself, and they were both busy. There would be time enough to see where they stood when things calmed down a bit.

  She put him to the back of her mind and considered Tamsin. She would be glad to be rid of her. And Gayle too, for that matter. Actually, it wasn’t so much Gayle herself, rather the uncertainty over who was leaking information. It was unsettling to be regarding every officer she knew with suspicion. She thought back to her drunken conversation with Gayle a few nights ago. It was oddly comforting to know that Gayle too lacked someone in her life. ‘Not so perfect, after all,’ she told Benjy, gathering up her work bag. She ruffled him under the chin and went out to the car.

  To her annoyance it wouldn’t start. She left it for a couple of minutes then tried the ignition again but it was completely dead. ‘Six hundred quid a month and it won’t bloody start!’ She reached over into the glove box and fished out the warranty documents. Then she called Chris. ‘Bloody car won’t start. Can you pick me up?’

  Chris said he would be round in ten minutes. While she waited, Clare called the dealer who said they would have the car collected that morning. ‘Probably just an electrical fault,’ the salesman said. ‘Should have it back to you within the day.’

  Clare told them she would leave the key at the station and she ended the call. Then she walked down the drive to wait for Chris.

  * * *

  The news that Marek had been taken to Greystane House had spread round the station and there was a sense that the investigation was winding up. DCI Gibson had telephoned and suggested Clare charge him with Johannes’s murder sooner rather than later. Clare wasn’t sure about that but she’d know more once they were able to interview him. A constable from Dundee had kept an eye on Marek overnight and Gillian was there now. Sara was back at her desk, ploughing through a pile of paperwork.

  At ten o’clock Gayle tapped on Clare’s office door. She indicated her cafetière. ‘Coffee, Clare?’

  Clare glanced up from perusing Marek’s bank statements. He too had multiple bank accounts with a similar pattern of transactions. It looked like they were both helping someone to launder money. The question was who? Hopefully the medical staff would give the go-ahead for them to interview Marek in the next day or two. But could she persuade him to talk? Maybe find out if that was the reason Johannes was killed?

  She looked at the cafetière. Perhaps a break would help clear her thinking. She rose from her chair. ‘Thanks, Gayle. Coffee would be lovely.’

  Gayle produced a box of cakes from Fisher & Donaldson, a bakery on Church Street. ‘It’s my last day here,’ she said, ‘so I thought – why not.’ Then she patted her stomach. ‘I’ll have to go on a diet after this week. There are just too many lovely food shops in St Andrews.’

  Clare helped herself to a custard tart while they waited for the kettle to boil. ‘So your work’s finished?’

  Gayle smiled. ‘Yes, all done now.’

  Clare studied her face for any clue as to what she had found but Gayle just continued smiling.

  ‘You’ll be given a redacted version of my report in due course but I’m afraid I can’t give you any details, Clare.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’

  ‘Afraid not. All I will say is… well, I hope they’ll treat the culprit with… with some understanding.’ She picked up the kettle which had boiled with a cloud of steam and began pouring water into the cafetière. ‘It might seem glamorous, what I do, Clare – exciting, even. The reality is quite different. Sometimes people feel compelled to do things by circumstances. Sometimes, life – well, it kicks you in the teeth, doesn’t it? These cases I investigate. They’re not always driven by greed, you know?’

  Clare wondered what she had meant by that. Had she discovered some sad story in the life of one of her officers? Someone who had a desperate need for money? Then suddenly she remembered seeing a webpage on Gayle’s laptop – just a glimpse before she closed it. Cadham something. She was racking her brains to remember what was on the webpage when Sara appeared at her shoulder. Clare turned to offer her one of Gayle’s cakes then saw the worried expression on her face. ‘Sara? Something wrong?’

  Sara hesitated, then she said, ‘Boss – I probably shouldn’t ask – but it’s just that I saw you and Chris talking yesterday – in the park.’

  Clare was suddenly aware of Gayle’s presence. She was stirring the coffee, her head bent. But before Clare could stop Sara she carried on.

  ‘I know you didn’t see me. I was out on patrol – coming along Tom Stewart Lane and I looked across. You were sitting on a bench in the park. Looked like you were deep in conversation. And I started to worry. Chris and I, well we had this awful row…’

  It was the smallest reaction. Almost nothing at all. But it was there. Whether it was in Gayle’s shoulders or her back, Clare wasn’t sure but, in that moment, she knew Gayle understood. She understood that Clare and Chris had left the station to walk a short distance to the park to have a private conversation. And there could only be one reason for that.

  She felt her face flush and she turned back to Sara. ‘I’m sorry, Sara – what were you saying?’

  ‘It’s the mortgage, you see. I said to Chris we should be saving for the deposit and he said we needed a holiday. And, well, when I saw you talking, you both looked so serious. And I started to worry that he’s getting fed up of me nagging. I know I can be a bit…’

  Gayle had stopped stirring now and was replacing the lid on the cafetière. Clare looked at Sara’s face, creased with worry, and she wrestled with her conscience. It would be the easiest thing in the world to say in front of Gayle that they had been speaking about Sara and Chris’s row. But, horrified as she was at being caught out by Gayle, Clare couldn’t do that to her young PC. Sara looked miserable enough as it was.

  ‘Honestly, Sara – it was just work stuff. I wouldn’t dream of discussing your private business with Chris.’ She smiled, seeing Sara’s face clear. ‘Tell you what, once this murder enquiry is behind us, why don’t we three sit down together and try to work out if there are any schemes that might help you both?’

  Sara smiled back at Clare. ‘Thanks, boss. That would be great.’

  Sara went off to answer the phone and Clare turned back to the coffee, examining the mugs to find the least grubby ones. There was an awkward silence and she racked her brains for something to say. Eventually, she said, ‘Staff, eh? Worse than a bunch of kids.’

  Gayle raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d say, Clare, that it’s probably just as well my work here is almost finished.’ She formed her lips into a smile but her eyes didn’t follow suit. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  And, with that, she plunged the coffee and began to pour it into mugs. ‘Think I’ll take mine in my room.’ She flicked a glance at Clare. ‘Still a few loose ends to tie up, you know.’

  Clare felt sick. She remembered Gayle’s warning and wondered i
f she’d carry out her threat to have Clare arrested. Her phone started to ring and, glancing at the display, she saw it was the DCI. What the hell now?

  She left her coffee behind and went into her office, closing the door before she took the call.

  ‘The jury came back ten minutes ago.’

  ‘And?’ She held her breath.

  ‘Guilty.’

  ‘Oh, thank God. Sentence?’

  ‘He’s been remanded in custody, pending reports. But the judge did say he should expect a lengthy term.’

  Clare felt a huge sense of relief that the DCI’s gamble giving Tamsin immunity had paid off. Had it really been just two days since Tamsin had stood up and given evidence against her husband? It felt like a lifetime to Clare. ‘Any sign of Rose Grant in court?’

  ‘No, nothing. Nor Paddy.’

  ‘So, what now for Tamsin?’

  ‘I’ll call the Serious Organised Crime lads. They’ll take it from there.’

  ‘Should I call Wendy? Let her know?’

  ‘I’d leave it to them, Clare. It’s their show now. They’ll let her know soon enough.’

  After the call had ended, Clare sat back in her chair, processing this development. Phil Quinn was going to jail – that much was clear. But Rose and Paddy Grant were still at large. She wondered what that would mean for Tamsin. Would they still come after her? And would the DCI continue heading up the hunt for Paddy? It didn’t seem fair that Clare’s mistake on the invoice should affect him. And then she knew she wouldn’t let that happen. She would tell the Chief Super it was all her fault. The DCI had been through enough lately.

  She forced her thoughts back to Tamsin before she was tempted to question her own motives for wanting to protect the DCI. She hoped the SOC lads would move Tamsin quickly from St Andrews. She was looking forward to waking up, knowing that Tamsin was no longer her problem. Admittedly her evidence had helped convict Phil Quinn but that evidence had been bought with immunity from prosecution. And, as far as Clare was concerned, that made her every bit as guilty as her husband.