Lies to Tell

by Marion Todd

  Having Tamsin out of the way would allow her to concentrate fully on finding Johannes’s killer – unless, of course, they had already found him. She wondered how soon she would be able to interview Marek. It might be worth trying later today, if the doctor’s assessment was favourable. She really hoped he would be fit to be questioned. He might confess to murdering Johannes. But Clare didn’t share the DCI’s view on that. She couldn’t see what he had to gain by killing his friend. From what she could tell, they were both laundering roughly equal sums every week or so; probably as much as they could without drawing attention to themselves. They were both careful about it, spreading it over a variety of accounts and sending it on to different recipients. They had probably worked on it together and she couldn’t see them falling out over that. Certainly not enough for Marek to murder Johannes. According to their respective flatmates they had been good friends. One straight, the other gay so a lovers’ tiff didn’t seem likely either. She couldn’t think of any reason Marek would have killed Johannes. But if he hadn’t, then who had?

  She sat back in her chair, going over the day Marek came into the station to report his friend missing. The day Clare had arrived with Tamsin in tow. She hadn’t paid him much attention then, but maybe it was worth revisiting it now. She rose from her chair and went in search of Jim. She found him at his desk, poring over policing requests for another golf tournament.

  ‘I can’t see how I can do this without cancelling leave for at least six officers,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘We just don’t have the manpower in the middle of summer.’

  ‘See if we can beg a favour from Dundee,’ Clare suggested. ‘They’ll probably have a few bodies to spare.’

  Jim nodded at this then put down his pen. ‘Was there something you wanted, Clare?’

  ‘Yes, if you don’t mind. Jim – could you find me the footage from the front desk, the day Marek came to report Johannes missing? No desperate rush but I’d like to view it before I interview him.’

  She left Jim to look for the video footage and stood checking her phone for messages. Nothing from the garage yet. Admittedly it was still early. She’d give it another couple of hours then call to see if they’d found the fault with the Merc. She couldn’t call Wendy either – the DCI had been quite clear about that. There was a pile of paperwork in her office, that had accumulated while she’d been busy dealing with Tamsin and the two students. The prospect filled her with dismay but the sooner she started…

  As she passed by the small interview room she saw the door was slightly ajar. Gayle was tapping away on her laptop. Clare wondered what was going into her report. If the leak had come from someone based in St Andrews, what would that mean for them all? Would there be an enquiry? And what would Gayle do about Clare’s indiscretion? If the leak had been found, maybe it wouldn’t matter that she’d told Chris. She could always deny it. There was no way their conversation could have been recorded. She could prime Chris to say they were talking about something else – anything but the leak. And anyway, Gayle had said she was leaving today. Maybe she’d let it go…

  She closed her office door and sat at her desk, shaking the mouse to bring her screen to life. She thought about the crime statistics report she should be compiling. But she couldn’t settle to it. There were so many things up in the air today.

  On an impulse she picked up her phone and dialled the number for Greystane House. It was answered after a few rings. Clare introduced herself and explained to the operator that she wished to speak to whoever was assessing an attempted suicide from the previous night.

  The operator asked her to hold then, after a few moments, she spoke again. ‘Miss Grant, was it?’

  Clare started to reply. ‘No, it was a young man – Marek… sorry, what name did you just say?’

  ‘Grant,’ the operator said. ‘A Miss Rose Grant.’

  It took her a split second to react. Then, trying to keep her voice level, she said, ‘Listen carefully to me, please. I believe one of your patients is in danger from another patient. Serious danger. Write this down: Marek Schmidt – S-C-H-M-I-D-T. Young man, early twenties, dark curly hair. I need two members of staff to go to him immediately and to stay with him. I have an officer on site and I’ll be sending more along. And when you’ve done that that I want the same supervision organised for Rose Grant. Rose is potentially dangerous so you’ll need two members of staff keeping an eye on her at all times. Do you understand?’

  The operator said that she did and Clare rang off.

  ‘Chris?’ she yelled, heading out the door.

  He followed her, grabbing his jacket. ‘Where’s the fire?’

  Clare pushed open the station doors and made for the car. ‘Rose Grant managed to get herself admitted to Greystane last night. I’ll drive. Can you get on to Bell Street in Dundee and get them to send a couple of cars up there now? I want that hospital locked down. Then get on to whoever’s there…’

  ‘Gillian—’

  ‘Get on to Gillian and warn her. Tell her to stick to Marek like glue.’ She jumped into the car, immediately switching on the lightbar and siren, and they roared out of the car park.

  Chapter 28

  She abandoned the car outside the barrier and ran past the police cars that had come from Bell Street, through the front entrance towards reception, holding her ID badge in front of her. Two uniformed cops met her.

  ‘Marek?’ she asked.

  One of the cops shook his head. ‘Not in his room.’

  ‘Oh God.’ Clare felt sick. She was already imagining his bloodied body hidden in a sluice room or a cupboard somewhere. ‘What about Rose Grant?’

  ‘Can’t find her either.’

  ‘Dammit. Right. We need more cops. I want this whole place searched and the perimeter secured. Rose Grant to be arrested on sight. Close-cropped white-blonde hair.’

  ‘That’s a lot of ground, Inspector,’ the cop said.

  ‘And?’

  The cop wisely made no reply and began speaking into his radio.

  Clare turned to Chris. ‘Let’s check the kitchen first.’

  ‘Kitchen?’

  ‘Knives, Chris!’

  A charge nurse led them to the kitchen where staff looked round, surprised to see them.

  ‘You can’t come in here without—’ a woman in a white coat began, walking towards them, but the charge nurse waved this away.

  ‘Check your knives,’ Clare said. ‘Any missing?’

  The white-coated woman stared.

  ‘Now, please,’ Clare said. ‘A man’s life is in danger.’

  After a moment’s hesitation the woman began moving round the room, speaking to staff and opening drawers. After a minute or so, she came back to Clare. ‘I can’t be absolutely sure but I don’t think there’s anything missing.’

  Clare turned back to the charge nurse. ‘Do you carry out any medical procedures here?’

  ‘You mean operations?’

  ‘Yes. Anything that would require sharp tools.’

  The charge nurse shook his head. ‘Nothing like that.’

  Clare’s mind was whirling. Where could Marek be? Had Rose got to him or was he hiding from her? ‘What about laundry?’ she asked. ‘Is it done here?’

  ‘No. It all goes up to Ninewells.’

  ‘Okay, then. Let’s be methodical. Every cupboard, every toilet, every single room. I want to search them all.’ Clare’s radio crackled. The cop at reception.

  ‘Boss, we have cars at as many points as we can round the perimeter; and a dozen cops out searching the grounds now.’

  ‘Make sure every fire exit is manned and keep in touch.’

  * * *

  They found Rose first.

  ‘Heading over a fence into the woods at the back,’ the voice on the radio said. ‘I reckon she heard the police sirens and realised we were onto her. No sign of a weapon. She’s cuffed and in the back of a car now.’

  ‘Right. Hold her there until I think where to send her. Get
her cautioned. Then ask if she knows anything about another patient. Radio me if she tells you anything at all. But do not mention Marek by name. Got it?’

  They carried on searching in silence until Chris said, ‘The thing that’s worrying me is…’

  ‘Yeah, I know. If Rose was trying to escape, what’s happened to Marek?’

  ‘Clare…’ Chris stopped, as if trying to order his thoughts. ‘What if there isn’t a connection between Marek and Rose Grant? I mean, why would there be? There’s nothing to suggest they know each other. What if Rose is just a bit unhinged, or high on drugs even? She might easily have wandered onto the bridge and been mistaken for a suicide.’

  ‘Not very likely,’ Clare said.

  ‘But I can’t work out why she would be chasing after Marek. In fact, we don’t even know if she was. She might have another reason for getting herself admitted, assuming she’s not a genuine suicide case.’

  Clare spread her hands. ‘I’ve no idea, Chris. Maybe Paddy and Rose were the ones running the money laundering scheme. Maybe they killed Johannes – I just don’t know. But it’s too much of a coincidence, for my liking. We have to find that lad alive. If we lose him, we lose any chance of identifying Johannes’s murderer.’ Clare began walking again and Chris followed. She pushed open the door labelled Store. As soon as she entered she felt there was another person concealed somewhere. It had to be Marek. But was he still alive?

  She looked round at shelf upon shelf of towels and bed linen, large rolls of toilet paper, wider rolls for examination couches, packs of blue paper towels and bottles of chemicals. ‘Marek,’ she said, ‘I am Detective Inspector Clare Mackay and I have Detective Sergeant Chris West with me. Charge Nurse…’ She glanced back at the nurse, still in the corridor, outside the door.

  ‘Gerry Donaldson,’ the nurse said.

  ‘…Gerry Donaldson,’ Clare went on. She held her ID badge out in front of her. ‘I know you’re frightened but we’re going to take care of you. The woman who came here to find you has been arrested. So you’re safe now.’ She held her breath, listening for any clue as to where he was concealed. There was a slight movement behind a stack of white towels. ‘Come on out, Marek,’ she said, her voice soft. ‘It’s all over.’

  The towels shifted again.

  Clare moved slowly towards the shelf. ‘Marek, I’m just going to move these towels out of the way. Okay?’

  There was a muffled sob and Clare stepped forward, gradually removing one towel at a time until she could see a pair of frightened eyes. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe now.’

  * * *

  The duty doctor, after examining Marek, agreed that he could be interviewed, providing a nurse was in attendance. But when Clare raised the possibility of taking him to St Andrews for interview he was less keen. ‘We’d really like to keep an eye on him here,’ he said. ‘There is an Emergency Detention Certificate in place.’

  Clare considered this. She didn’t believe Marek would be safe at Greystane. They might have arrested Rose, but Paddy Grant was still at large. ‘I think he went to the Tay Road Bridge in desperation,’ she told the doctor. ‘I think he was chased onto the bridge and that he ran along the carriageway to draw attention to himself. It’s a busy bridge so there would have been plenty of witnesses – to say nothing of cameras – enough to put off someone trying to harm him. If I can show that, will you let me take him over to the station? We’ve far more chance of keeping him safe there than you have here.’

  The doctor agreed and said that he would sit in on the interview. As it was taking place away from the station Chris set up his phone to record the proceedings. While he was doing this, Clare took the chance to have her first good look at Marek. He was around five foot nine, his build average. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a faded grey sweatshirt, with blue Adidas trainers on his feet. His skin was olive but he was pale now with dark circles beneath his eyes. Clare guessed he hadn’t had much sleep since taking off from St Andrews and she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

  She began by asking him if he needed an interpreter.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m fine with English,’ he said, with a slight accent.

  ‘And you’re sure you feel well enough to be interviewed?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, his voice flat. ‘I’m just tired.’

  ‘I understand, Marek. If, at any time, you feel you can’t continue, please let us know and we’ll suspend the interview.’ She glanced at the doctor who gave a slight nod. She went on to caution Marek and he indicated that he understood.

  The formalities out of the way, Clare told Marek that she was investigating a money laundering scheme and that she would be questioning him about it. ‘We will provide you with a solicitor before discussing that but please remember you are under caution.’

  Marek nodded at this and Clare pressed on.

  ‘Marek, before we discuss any possible offences you may have committed, I’d like to ask you about last night. Can you tell me why you found yourself up on the Tay Road Bridge please?’

  He took a moment to answer then said simply, ‘I was frightened.’

  ‘Frightened of what?’

  He looked at Clare. ‘That woman. The one with the short blonde hair.’

  ‘Why were you frightened of her, Marek?’

  He met Clare’s eye, his expression clouded. ‘It’s difficult to explain…’

  ‘Okay, Marek,’ Clare said. ‘How about you tell us what happened yesterday – in your own way.’

  Marek nodded. ‘I’d been staying at the caravan park. In Tayport. I needed to get out of St Andrews – I knew something bad must have happened to Johannes – so I caught a bus out of town and got off in Tayport. The caravan park looked pretty nice and it was tucked out of the way on the edge of the town. So I went to the office and spoke to the manager. Asked if he needed any odd jobs done. I said I was good with my hands and I’d be happy to work in return for somewhere to stay. He said there was an old van he couldn’t rent, that I could have that if I worked for him. So I made myself useful and he seemed pleased with me.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘It was yesterday morning,’ Marek said. ‘I was in the laundry, washing the floor. And when I went back to the main office they told me a woman had been asking for me. And I was worried, then. Because I hadn’t told anyone where I was.’

  ‘Did she ask for you by name?’ Clare said.

  Marek nodded. ‘Yes she did; and she said she had a message from Johannes.’

  Clare sat forward. ‘Johannes Muller? Your friend?’

  ‘Yes. And I knew that couldn’t be right because – well, I’d seen on the news, about Johannes…’ He tailed off, his eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘And what do you think she meant by that, Marek?’

  He spread his hands. ‘What would anyone think, Inspector? I thought she had killed Marek and now she had come to kill me too. So I decided to leave. Get the hell out of there before she found me.’

  ‘And where did you go?’

  ‘The common. It’s next to the caravan park and quite open so I knew I’d be able to see her coming.’ He shivered. ‘I was keeping near to the river and I’d nearly reached the end of the common when I saw her. She was a bit away – the other side of the pond – but I could see she was looking at me. Watching me.’ He shook his head. ‘I… had seen her before, you see. That white-blonde hair – it’s unmistakable.’

  ‘Where had you seen her?’ Clare asked.

  He hesitated. ‘You said I could have a solicitor…’

  Clare smiled. ‘Yes, that’s fine, Marek. We’ll leave that for now. If you could go on, please? You recognised this woman. What happened next?’

  ‘She watched me for a minute and then she started running across, towards me. So I started to run too. As fast as I could. I’m pretty fast, you know. And, after a few days walking around, I knew the area.’

  ‘Where did you run to?’

  ‘Along the b
each. And then round by the harbour. There are little lanes between the houses, and paths along the beach. I didn’t think she would know that so I ran through them, keeping off the roads as much as I could.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I came to the cemetery. I hoped I’d be safe there. Not many people around, you know. I stayed there for a while, just to make sure she hadn’t followed me. And then I saw the bridge in the distance. I thought, if I could get to Dundee, well, it’s a big city so maybe I could lose her there.’ Marek drank from a plastic cup of water then continued. ‘I started walking to the bridge and I got to the grass beside it and then she was there again. From nowhere. She must have realised I’d head for the bridge and she was there, waiting for me.’ His face was pink now, his hands shaking.

  Clare sensed the doctor was becoming concerned. ‘Would you like to take a break, Marek?’

  He waved this away. ‘No, I want to tell someone.’ He met her eyes, his voice almost a whisper now. ‘It’s a relief to speak about it; and I’ve been so frightened.’

  Clare smiled. ‘I understand.’ She waited for him to continue.

  ‘So I ran,’ he said. ‘Up to the car park and over to the ramp. I thought if I was up there I would be safe, with all the cars. That she wouldn’t try to follow. But she did. I was running along the walkway, you know – between the two roads. And I could see her coming up the ramp. So, the only thing I could think of was to jump onto the carriageway, in front of the cars. I dodged through a couple and then the next car put on its hazard warning lights and slowed down. The driver offered to take me off the bridge but I didn’t know if I could trust him. I was too frightened.’

  ‘And the woman?’ Clare asked. ‘What did she do?’

  ‘She hung back. I could see her watching me and the car driver – waiting to see what would happen. So I climbed over the barrier to make them think I was going to jump.’