The Eye in the Dark

by Katherine Pathak

  Klaus and Greta were laid to rest last Friday, at a cemetery in Wiesbaden. My parents were non-religious. The ceremony was a simple celebration of their lives. A pair of larch trees were planted in their honour. It may sound odd, but the passing of our mother and father together has come to provide Mila and I with some comfort. Neither would ever need to know the pain of losing the other.

  Another comfort to us, was the letter we received from an old colleague of our father’s. He had read of his death in the national press, where, due to his success in pharmaceutical research, Klaus had been given a brief obituary. He sent a letter via the drug company in Frankfurt where Dad spent the last years of his career. This man, Professor Fischer, remembered our father when they both worked in Berlin, over thirty years ago. Fischer is now suffering from early onset dementia, but he recalled working with Dad, as clearly as if it were yesterday. His letter provided us with more details about the projects Dad was involved in than he had ever divulged to me or Mila when he was alive. That part of his life had always been kept private. He described it as ‘important government work’. We never dreamt to pry into it. They were hard times, when the Cold War was still at its height.

  Anyway, I simply wanted to explain that the funeral has now taken place and to pass on the gratitude of our family for your hospitality when I came to Scotland. If you ever find yourself in Germany, Sergeant, we would hope to return the favour.

  Best wishes,

  Stefan Bauer

  Frankfurt-am-Main

  Sharon re-read the message a couple of times. She was relieved Stefan seemed to have made peace with his parents’ deaths. There was always a risk that disgruntled relatives might continue to stir up trouble in a case as ambiguous as this one had been.

  But quite the contrary, Stefan’s tone was very conciliatory, although Sharon wasn’t sure she’d done much to warrant his praise. In her opinion, the investigation proved unsatisfactory. The Fiscal’s office was happy enough to rule the Bauers’ deaths as due to natural causes, but the situation had still struck the DS as odd. Two unexplained deaths in the same place at the same time. Sharon didn’t like coincidences.

  The lights on the floor of the division were dimmed. She glanced in the direction of Bevan’s office. It was dark inside and the door was closed. Sharon imagined DI Muir was long gone. She had to admit the man was efficient and amiable, but he wasn’t one for burning the midnight oil.

  She sighed, clicking the print button on the screen. She wanted to show Muir a copy of the message from Bauer first thing in the morning. Sharon had a feeling her new colleague would be interested in its contents.

  *

  Dani propped a couple of pillows behind her and made herself comfortable on the hotel’s king-sized bed. She had a pad of paper and a complimentary pen in her hand. Dani proceeded to list the suspects in the murders of Autumn Carlisle and Kathy Brice.

  She scored out the name of Austin Johnson, who seemed now to have been eliminated as a suspect due to his alibi on the night of Autumn’s death. He appeared more like a victim himself, having been falsely accused of a terrible crime.

  Kathy Brice’s boyfriend, Tom Birch, was also out of the frame. A member of Nate’s team had questioned Birch’s work colleagues and obtained a time-coded credit card receipt for a bag of shopping from a Tesco Express in Farringdon which supported his claim he was nowhere near Heathrow when Kathy was strangled.

  This left Denny Lomond. He was a man who connected both of their victims. Dani thought about his younger brother, John. He’d been living with Denny at his property in Henley-on-Thames for the last couple of years. She reached for a cup of instant coffee which was placed on the bedside table, made using the dinky travel kettle on the refreshment tray. It tasted artificially creamy due to the synthetic milk she’d added to it from a tiny plastic dispenser.

  The outline of John Lomond was imprinted upon her mind’s eye, as he stood in the doorway to Denny’s kitchen on that sunny afternoon. When she’d seen the silhouette of Austin Johnson in his garden in Woking, it had reminded her of this man.

  John had appeared watchful of his brother on that day, protective, even. He had taken on the role of gardener since living at the house. The relationship between the two men appeared close, yet the younger had almost adopted for himself a subservient role: like an employee. Dani’s mind kept ticking over, ruminating on their odd relationship as she sipped her drink.

  When she got back to the criminal investigation department in the morning, the DCI was determined to look more closely into the backgrounds of Denny and John Lomond.

  Chapter 26

  Dermot had escorted Sharon out of the department, buying them both a coffee at a quiet café a few hundred yards along Pitt Street from the police headquarters.

  “This is very kind of you, Boss,” Sharon commented, as a tall latté was placed down in front of her.

  “I didn’t want the entire office speculating as to why we were talking so much.” Dermot emptied a sachet of sugar into his own drink, which he was taking black.

  “Calder, you mean?” Sharon chuckled. “He’s already started calling me teacher’s pet.”

  Muir rolled his eyes. “Not just Andy Calder. The DCS made it quite clear to me the Bauer case was closed. I’m not supposed to be doing anything during Bevan’s absence other than keeping current live cases ticking over.”

  Sharon nodded. “Aye, well I’ve not told anyone else about the email from Stefan.”

  “Good. It will need to stay that way.” Muir tipped his cup, taking a slug of his drink like it was a shot of the hard stuff. He felt the caffeine rush through his veins, jolting his nervous system awake. “I just can’t help feeling we should have looked more closely at the background of the dead couple. I ran as many checks as I could from here, but I drew a blank on Bauer’s professional life before re-unification in October 1990.”

  Sharon nodded. “But Stefan now has a letter giving him details of what his dad was up to during the Cold War. What we wouldn’t give to take a read of that!”

  Muir sighed. “We’ve got absolutely no jurisdiction to ask for a copy. The investigation into Klaus and Greta’s deaths is well and truly closed. But I still feel a niggling doubt about it.”

  “Same here.”

  Muir rubbed his freshly shaved chin. “I expect the British intelligence service might be interested to get hold of that letter from Klaus’s ex-colleague. They still have a file on him from when he was living in the GDR.”

  Sharon cradled her tall glass, half the contents already gone. “Would they really care now? The Cold War ended thirty years ago. The threat is from Islamic terrorism these days, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, primarily. But look at the cases of Novichok poisoning we’ve had on British soil in the last few years? These are, allegedly, examples of the FSB tracking down so-called traitors of the Cold War era. There are clearly plenty of people out there with very long memories.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But if you pass the information onto the secret services and they contact Stefan Bauer, he’s going to know I betrayed his confidence.” She crinkled her brow. “I certainly don’t think the Bauers were a threat to British security in any way.”

  “No, I agree. If Klaus’s past was a threat to anybody, it was to him and his wife.”

  “What about Stefan and Mila – do you think they’re safe?” Sharon was suddenly alarmed.

  Muir shrugged, draining his cup. “If Stefan is being so open about the contents of that letter he received from Mr Fischer, I’d say maybe not.”

  “Bloody hell, I hadn’t considered that.”

  “There’s really not much we can do from here. I’ll call my contact in Intelligence and pass on what we know. I don’t expect he’ll take any action on it. They’re up to their eyes monitoring online activity between radical groups. This situation is hardly urgent. We’ve got no evidence anyone is in imminent danger.”

  Sharon leant back in her chair. “I know it’s unlikely to se
rve any purpose, but I’d like to go back to the Berkley Hotel one more time, have a word with some of the domestic staff. Whilst there’s still someone there who will recall the Bauers during their stay, I think it’s worth having another shot.”

  Muir hunched his shoulders. “Take a couple of hours to head over there now. I’ll cover for you with Calder. As long as DCS Douglas doesn’t find out, I don’t see the harm in it.”

  *

  Sharon had slipped back into the department to scan the photograph of Klaus Bauer that was used to accompany his obituary in Die Welt. She stuffed the printout in her pocket before heading out again to the Trongate area of the city.

  It was nearly lunchtime and the Berkley Hotel lobby was busy. It was clear that businessmen used the restaurant for working lunches. The dining room was full of dark suits, contrasted sharply against the cream leather chairs. The receptionists were busy with a large group who were checking in. Sharon edged past the throng and entered the lift, punching the button for the third floor.

  The door to the room where the Bauers had been found dead was ajar. A cleaning trolley was parked in the corridor outside. A middle-aged black woman in a blue uniform emerged from another room, further along the corridor. She eyed Sharon suspiciously.

  “Can I help you, Madam?”

  Sharon held out her warrant card. “Have you worked here long?”

  “Yes, for three years now.” The cleaner had the faintest hint of a West Indian accent. “But I’ve lived in Glasgow all my life,” she added in a defensive tone.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not from the immigration department.” She dipped her head towards the half-open door. “Do you remember the couple who died in that room a couple of weeks ago – they were from Germany?”

  She nodded. “Their English was very good. The man had a problem with his entry card when they first arrived. I went down to reception to fix it for them. He gave me a tip. I told him we don’t accept cash from customers, but he should tell the manager he is pleased with my work.”

  Sharon pulled out the scanned image of Professor Bauer. “Was this the man?”

  “Yes, he was always with his wife. They seemed a devoted couple.”

  Sharon cleared her throat. “Do you know who found them on the morning after they died?”

  “It wasn’t me, thank the Lord. It was Lysette. She had entered the room to clean, we have a key to them all. There wasn’t any reply to her knock, so she thought the couple had gone down to breakfast.”

  “It must have been an awful shock. Is Lysette on duty now?”

  “I think so. She’s usually on the morning shift, like me. But I don’t know which floor she’ll be on. It’s a big hotel. I only follow my own rota. We don’t have time to socialise. The housekeeping office is beyond the reception desk, near the day spa.”

  “I’ll find out for myself then. Thanks for your help.”

  Sharon decided to take the stairs back down to the lobby. Trolleys were stationed on each landing, transporting piles of clean towels and linen. It was a busy time of day for the hotel.

  The door to the housekeeping office was shut. Sharon knocked briskly. An irritated voice demanded she enter. The room was windowless and cramped. A harassed looking man sat behind an untidy desk. A white board was hung on the wall behind him, bearing a rota of names and dates scrawled in marker pen. Sharon scanned it for the name, Lysette. But the handwriting was almost indecipherable.

  “Can I help you?”

  Sharon showed her ID. “I’m from the serious crime unit, Sir.”

  He shifted up higher in his seat.

  “I was hoping to speak with an employee of yours by the name of Lysette? I was told she might be on duty this morning?”

  The man shook his head. “You’ve been informed wrongly, I’m afraid. Lysette doesn’t work here any longer. She moved to another hotel at the end of the month.”

  Sharon’s heart sank. She didn’t have the authority to go to another hotel and start asking questions. “But it was this, Lysette, who discovered the bodies of Mr and Mrs Bauer, the German couple who died, in their room?”

  He nodded. “Yep, Mr Bartlett, the manager, gave her the rest of the day off. She came back for a few shifts after that, but the experience had really upset her.”

  “It’s understandable.”

  “Then, out of the blue, she asks for a transfer, says she can’t stay at the Berkley one minute longer. I wasn’t happy, because she was a great worker.” He grunted. “Which is difficult to find in this business, I can assure you.”

  “What do you mean by a transfer?” Sharon asked in bafflement.

  “To another hotel in our chain.” He summoned up a webpage and turned his computer monitor so she could read the logo running along the header in a cursive blue font. “Lysette Carson now works at The Triton out at Prestwick Airport. It was one of our very first establishments, which makes sense, what with our link to aviation.”

  Sharon blinked as she read the information on the screen. Something about the name of the hotel group was ringing a bell in her head. “So, the Berkley belongs to the Lomond group of hotels?”

  “Aye, you’ve heard of Lomond Airlines, right?”

  “Sure, the CEO is Scotland’s answer to Richard Branson!”

  “Well, he’s our big boss. I think Denny Lomond opened the hotel at Prestwick before he ever started up the airline business. Nowadays, it feels like we’re a bit of an afterthought in the Lomond empire. He’s closed several of his hotels over the past decade. All that remains are The Berkley, The Triton, and The Highlander, up near Inverness.”

  Sharon absorbed this information in silence.

  “So, I can’t really help you any further, Detective. But you can have a card for The Triton. I’ll write the name of the Domestic Services Manager there on the back, if you like?”

  Sharon forced herself to focus on what the man was saying. “Yes, please. That would be great.”

  Chapter 27

  It was difficult for Dani to find a free computer. In the end, she used her own iPad, finding a space on an old battered sofa by the water dispenser to position herself. The rest of the team were still busy examining the CCTV footage.

  The DCI already knew that Denny Lomond was free from criminal convictions. They had run checks on all the suspects in the two murder cases. His full name was Dennis Karl Lomond. Through an internet search, Dani had found an interview with the entrepreneur which had featured in The Scotsman in 2016. It was a lengthy piece in a weekend supplement. She decided to start with that.

  The interview was focussing on Lomond’s decision to begin operating his low-budget airline out of Heathrow. Lomond mentioned his wife’s tragic death from lung cancer, at the age of just 34, as the motivating factor. He had no reason to be tied to Scotland any longer. It was time to expand the business and devote himself body and soul to his work.

  Dani was intrigued to discover Denny had begun his career in the hotel business. He joined a catering college straight from school and began working for one of the big hotels in Glasgow. Denny used hard graft and initiative to work his way up to becoming manager.

  The young businessman then noticed an advert in a national paper. A large old country house was up for sale near where he grew up. It was in desperate need of repair and going relatively cheap. Denny visited his bank manager and begged for them to give him a mortgage on the property, despite its dilapidated state. His persistence made the bank take a chance on him.

  Denny continued in his day job, spending every moment of his free time renovating the old house. Finally, after two years of hard labour, the country house was ready to open as a hotel. It was the first in a chain that was to end up servicing every major town and city in Scotland.

  Dani leaned across to pour herself a cup of water. Denny was clearly a very determined and ambitious man. To build up a business empire from nothing was no mean feat. She scrolled further down the page. Once Denny’s chain of hotels was established and the money coming in,
he turned his attention to his real love – aeroplanes.

  Lomond already had a thriving hotel at Prestwick Airport, but now he had the capital, the entrepreneur began to build up a fleet of aircraft.

  Dani skimmed through the remainder of the article. It chronicled the highs and lows of the early days of Lomond Airlines. How Denny mortgaged his hotels to the hilt in order to launch the airline business, a major gamble when so many other small British airlines had gone to the wall. But this was Denny’s dream, he was prepared to risk everything.

  It was during the early years of Lomond Airlines, that Denny met a young Kelly Boyd. She was an airhostess on one of the company’s first flights out of Prestwick. They fell in love and married within a year. Dani sipped her water. The story of how Kelly discovered she was suffering from stage four lung cancer was heart-breaking.

  There was a photograph of the young woman, cradled in Denny’s arms. She was clearly still beautiful, but the disease had made her skin pallid and her body skeletal.

  Dani wasn’t surprised Denny decided to leave Scotland not long after his wife’s death. It must have been painful for him to remain in the place where they’d been so happy. The decision to set himself up in a large airport like Heathrow – sprawling and anonymous, must have felt like a fresh start.

  Information about Denny’s brother, John, wasn’t so easy to come by. It always amazed Dani that in this modern, digital age, some people’s entire lives were an open book. All you needed to do was tap into a few search engines and an individual’s often intimate details and experiences were laid bare for all to see. Yet others could remain completely anonymous. John Lomond was an example of the latter. His name was relatively common and his life unremarkable. Dani knew she’d have to use the police databases and online birth and marriage registries to find out anything at all about the younger Lomond brother.