The Eye in the Dark

by Katherine Pathak

  Mike came in with a tray of teas. He set one down on the table beside his wife. “She’s been saying the same thing since waking up in the middle of the night. I expect it was triggered by a bad dream.”

  “Has she taken her pills?”

  Mike shook his head, “I don’t think so, not in all the panic.”

  “That’s fine, but go and fetch them now, will you?” Rhodri made sure the tea was cool enough to drink before placing the cup in Betsy’s hands. “Take a sip.”

  She obediently put the cup to her lips, spluttering on a mouthful, but gulping some down. When Mike returned with a glass of water and a couple of white pills, they did the same.

  “It will help to calm her down,” Rhodri whispered to his friend. “She should feel the effects in a little while.”

  Betsy slumped back against the cushions, as if utterly exhausted. “The beautiful trees were scorched. A gap had formed in the forest where there hadn’t been one before. Those lovely red maple leaves. It’s why I gave her that name, Autumn. Her hair was the colour of maple syrup.”

  Mike sat beside his wife, holding her hand. “Shush now, dear. It was so long ago, there’s no need to dwell.”

  She twisted her head sharply. “They buried the body – not that there was much left of it. But what about a funeral? His family would have needed to say goodbye. It wasn’t right.”

  Mike rubbed her hand. “It was all so long ago, don’t let it upset you.”

  “I want to go back there. I want to go to Balloch House. I felt safe there. Please, Mike.” Betsy gripped her husband’s hand and her eyes searched his. “I want to go back there to die.”

  Mike gasped. “You’re not going to die, darling.”

  Betsy’s body slackened and her eyes closed.

  “Let her rest,” Rhodri whispered to his friend.

  The two men carried their mugs into the kitchen. Mike perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. His pale face was pinched with worry. “What should I do?”

  “She will most likely sleep for a few hours now. You need to contact the local mental health team. I’ll find the appropriate numbers for you. They will come out and assess her.”

  “Will they take her away?” His expression was panicked.

  “They may decide she needs to be hospitalised for a few days, perhaps given sedation to help her through this difficult patch.” He sighed. “You’ve both been through a terrible ordeal. Losing a child in such shocking circumstances is bound to have an impact.” He patted his friend on the arm. “Betsy will get better.”

  “Sometimes I think that will never happen.”

  Rhodri narrowed his eyes. “What was she talking about earlier? Her ramblings seemed to focus on a person trapped in a fire. Is this something Betsy actually witnessed?”

  Mike shrugged, his eyes fixed on the middle distance. “She’s been ranting about it ever since waking in the night. I think it was the subject of her nightmare. She’s certainly never mentioned it before.”

  “And what about Balloch House? Is it a place where you used to live?”

  Mike sipped his tea. “It’s a property near Inverness. We visited there once, that’s all. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

  Rhodri didn’t probe any further, he could see Mike was washed out himself. “You should go and lie down too. Whilst Betsy rests, it’s an opportunity for you to get some sleep. You need to maintain your own health in order to see your wife through these next few days.”

  Mike nodded wearily. “You’re right. But I need to take Dodie for a walk first. The poor thing’s been waiting for hours.”

  “I’ll take her,” Rhodri surprised himself by saying. “You just get yourself upstairs.”

  Mike did as he was told, shuffling out of the kitchen door like a Zombie.

  Rhodri found the dog’s lead on a hook by the back door, along with a house key. “Right,” he said purposefully to Dodie’s doleful, upturned face. “Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?”

  Her tail immediately began to wag.

  Chapter 31

  On this visit to the Berkley Hotel, with DI Muir in tow, Sharon was determined to make her presence felt. After his phone conversation with DCI Bevan and the information they’d gained from Lysette Carson, Muir had secured the permission of DCS Douglas to re-interview the hotel’s manager.

  It was a quieter time of day. The lobby was nearly empty. Sharon marched straight along the corridor where she knew Mr Bartlett’s office was situated. She gave the door a perfunctory knock before entering. Muir followed.

  Bartlett got immediately to his feet. It took him a few moments to recognise the detective, but when he did, his expression formed into a tight smile that did not reach his eyes.

  “Detective Sergeant Moffett. I didn’t expect to see you back here.”

  “No, I imagine not. This is Detective Inspector Muir. We need to ask a few more questions about the deaths of Mr and Mrs Bauer.”

  The man swept out from beside his desk and gestured for them to sit down on the plush sofa that lined the darkly panelled wall. “Certainly, but please make yourselves comfortable first.”

  “We’re comfortable standing, thank you.” Muir stayed where he was.

  Sharon made a point of carefully reading through the last two pages of her notebook. “We had a very enlightening conversation with Mrs Lysette Carson, yesterday.”

  Bartlett’s face paled. “Lysette doesn’t work at this hotel any longer.”

  “No, but she did work here a couple of weeks ago. In fact, she was the person who discovered the bodies of Mr and Mrs Bauer.”

  “Yes, that’s correct. The experience was very traumatic for the poor woman. She requested a move to another of our hotels. I hear she’s doing very well there.” He brushed non-existent fluff from his lapels.

  “Except, that isn’t what she told us. According to Mrs Carson, it was you who made her transfer to another place of work. She says you warned her not to speak to the police about what she saw that morning.” Sharon tipped her head to one side, eyeing him quizzically.

  He chuckled nervously. “That’s not quite how I remember it. I simply wanted to handle the police enquiries myself. The incident could have been a marketing disaster for the hotel. Mr Lomond instructed me to handle the police personally.”

  “So, Mr Lomond was involved in the decision to move Mrs Carson to another hotel? Did he come here to Glasgow?”

  Bartlett shook his head. “It was all done over the phone. Mr Lomond was at home in London.”

  Sharon took a step forward. She recited Lysette’s description of how she found the Bauers’ bodies the morning after their deaths. The detective paused to allow the words to sink in. “But when the police and pathologist arrived later that day, we saw quite a different scene. The Bauers were lying peacefully under the covers, the room pristine. How do you explain the discrepancy, Sir?”

  Bartlett dropped down onto the sofa and placed his head in his hands. “I panicked,” he muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?” Muir added impatiently.

  The man looked up. “When I saw the state of the German couple, I knew there would be problems for us. The publicity would be awful. I sent Lysette home and made sure myself and Rob were the only ones who had seen the room as it was.”

  “Rob is the manager of Housekeeping?”

  He nodded. “I called Mr Lomond on my mobile phone. I explained what had happened. He told me exactly what to do. Rob and I moved the bodies.” He licked his lips; his skin had turned a greenish tint. “Their positions hadn’t yet become rigid. We were able to manoeuvre them under the covers. It was even possible to relax the muscles in their faces and close their eyes.”

  Sharon shook her head in exasperation. “You must have known that what you were doing was terribly wrong?”

  He caught her gaze, his eyes entreating. “This is my job, my livelihood. I’ve got a wife and children to support. I’d been given an order from my superior.”

  “The Bauers had
children too. They deserve to know what really happened to their parents.” Muir’s tone was frosty.

  “Was there any sign of forced entry into the room?” Sharon was determined to regain some control over the investigation.

  “No, Lysette had used her key to enter the room when there was no response from inside.”

  “Did you remove anything from the room when you tampered with the bodies?”

  He shook his head vigorously. “We only moved the bodies, I swear. Just to make their deaths look,” he paused. “More natural.”

  Sharon grunted. “But what you saw wasn’t natural, was it? Lysette said the poor couple looked like they’d been utterly terrified, like something or someone had hounded them to their deaths. Did you think the same? Is that why you interfered with the scene?”

  Bartlett’s eyes darted about the office. “I need to call a lawyer. I don’t want to say any more.”

  “Fine,” Muir took a step forward. “You can call your legal representative from the station. Charles Bartlett, I’m arresting you on suspicion of attempting to pervert the course of justice as set out in the criminal justice and licensing bill. You do not have to say anything, but I should warn you that it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned anything which you may later rely on in court.”

  Bartlett looked shell-shocked. “What about Rob? And Mr Lomond?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll be arresting them too.”

  Chapter 32

  Dani let her fist drop down on the desk in frustration. “DI Muir has just sent me the records from the hotel manager’s mobile phone network.”

  “Oh yes?” Nate glanced up with interest.

  “Bartlett made a twenty-minute call to the landline in Denny Lomond’s office at quarter past nine on the morning the Bauer couple were found dead at the Berkley.”

  “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “It backs up Bartlett’s claim Lomond put him up to cleaning up the death scene, but we’ve got no transcript of the conversation. Lomond’s lawyer is just going to deny that Denny gave the order for the bodies to be moved. It’s his word against the hotel manager. The head of housekeeping got his orders from Bartlett. He didn’t even know Denny had been involved. We’ve not got enough to arrest him for this. That bastard is just too slippery.” Dani tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling, letting her breath out in a long, slow puff.

  “We don’t simply want to nail Lomond on an attempt to pervert the course of justice charge, do we?” Nate’s tone was serious. “We’ve now got the man connected to four suspicious deaths. I’d rather we found out if Lomond had any link to this German couple. What if he wasn’t only concerned about the reputation of his hotel? What if he actually played a part in their deaths?”

  Dani snapped her head back down to face her colleague. “But we know Lomond was definitely in London on the night the Bauers died.”

  “We also know Lomond has an alibi for the time when Kathy Brice was strangled and for the night Autumn Carlisle’s wrists were slit. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved. I don’t get the feeling Lomond is a man who cleans his own dirty laundry, if you know what I mean.”

  Dani did know. She thought of John Lomond, busy at work in Denny’s garden, acting like an employee rather than a family member; watchful and protective. “What about the brother? Do we know where he was at the times of the murders?”

  Nate furrowed his brow. “We’ve got no grounds to question him. The man has no connection to the victims that we know of. I can try and find out, but Lomond’s lawyers aren’t going to like it if they get wind.”

  Dani considered this for a moment. “John Lomond has been down in London for three years, right? Denny said he’s been living at the house all that time. It seems like he helps out around the place, but what about a job? Surely a fit bloke like him must have wanted to earn his own money during that time?”

  Nate nodded slowly. “I’ll check it out.”

  “While you do that, I’ll get Dermot and Sharon to send me over everything they already know about Klaus and Greta Bauer. If there’s any kind of connection between that couple and Denny Lomond, by God, I’m going to damn well find it.”

  *

  Rhodri was back at his flat in Glasgow. The sky had turned dark outside the tall windows of his sitting room. The trees and twisting paths of Kelvingrove Park laid out below looked sinister in the gloom. The professor decided to lower the blinds.

  He poured a glass of whisky from a bottle on the sideboard, lifted his mobile phone and dialled.

  “Rhodri?” A faint voice spoke on the other end of the line.

  “Hello, Mike. I called to see how Betsy was.” He took a gulp of whisky, feeling it warm his gullet on the way down.

  “The doctor came over not long after you left. Betsy was talking nonsense again. He gave her a sedative and asked me to drive her to the clinic. They’re going to keep her there until the weekend. She needs absolute rest.”

  “If that’s what the professionals think, then it will be for the best. They will look after her, Mike.” Rhodri was disappointed, he’d hoped after taking her medication and getting some rest, Betsy would have been more lucid. He’d had to leave before she woke. She was out for the count after her unsettled night.

  For a typical psychotic attack, her behaviour had not been extreme; there were no violent outbursts and acts of self-harm. She had appeared in a trance-like state, certainly, but at no point did Betsy pose a threat to herself or others. The professor was surprised they’d taken her in, especially with pressure for beds being as it was.

  “Yes, I’m sure they will. They left me some leaflets about dealing with grief. There are a few numbers to call for support. I might ring them in the morning.”

  “I think that’s a great idea. There may even be a support group in your area. I’ll check it out online for you. By the way, what’s the name of your consultant, I might know him?”

  “Dr Acharya. His clinic is in Kilsyth; it’s part of the East Dunbartonshire Trust. He was very understanding and patient, even though Betsy was being rather difficult.”

  “He will be used to far worse cases than Betsy’s, I can assure you. I’ve not heard of him, but I’m certain he’s good.”

  “Thank you for your help, Rhodri. I’m not sure what I would have done without you, I didn’t know where else to turn.”

  “Not at all, Mike. Now, make sure you use these few days to get plenty of sleep yourself. That’s doctor’s orders!”

  Mike managed a chuckle. “I will do that. The last twenty-four hours has tired me to the bone.”

  After he ended the call, Rhodri felt exhausted himself. It was understandable, he decided, having made a round trip to Cumbernauld and walked for what felt like miles with an overly energetic puppy tugging him along the whole way. The professor smiled. He’d actually quite enjoyed it. The dog reminded him of when his boys were young. They took their yellow Labrador for long walks over the fields behind their house. Times that would never return.

  He finished his whisky, determined not to become maudlin. But the words that had spilled out of Betsy’s mouth whilst she was having her psychotic episode kept swirling around in his head. The incident involving a man trapped in a wreckage, left to burn alive. Somebody burying his body without informing the relatives. Mike dismissed these words as nonsense, but hadn’t he also told her to try and forget – that it was all in the past? What was it that was all in the past, he wondered?

  Had the events she described been a memory rather than a dream? Rhodri thought back to the psychiatric reports he and DI Muir had read. They referred to a spate of bad dreams about a plane wreck. Was this the same event Betsy was recalling that very morning?

  The professor felt a dull ache tighten across his temples. He needed to sleep. Tomorrow, he would consider Betsy’s words further.

  Chapter 33

  Arthur Keating’s painting was still propped up against the mirror on the dressing table. Dani ex
amined it for a while. The colours were muted to the point of being almost monochrome. She supposed this was intended to show the effect of the blackened wreckage of the plane on the surrounding vegetation.

  The only hint of colour was evident in the auburns and browns of the leaves which still clung to the tallest branches of the trees. The crash must have occurred in Autumn, Dani surmised. The DCI was abruptly reminded of the maple trees which overlooked Autumn’s cottage in Mitchling; the ones she had coveted but the new owner despised.

  Dani wondered why Autumn had felt such a fascination for those trees, which blotted out the natural light to her garden and for this painting, which was deeply disturbing in its subject matter.

  A laptop lay open on the bed. Dani pulled it onto her lap in order to continue her research. She’d decided the key to Denny’s character lay in his professional life. There was no record of where he or his brother went to school, but Dani discovered Denny had achieved a City and Guilds qualification in hospitality from the College of West Scotland in Paisley when he was 19 years old. This gained him his first job in a hotel in Glasgow.

  During this time, Klaus and Greta Bauer were living in Frankfurt with their children, Stefan and Mila. Dani couldn’t identify a way in which the lives of these people could have crossed over with Lomond’s. Dani was shaking her head in frustration when her mobile phone buzzed beside her on the duvet. She picked it up.

  “Bevan here.”

  “Good evening, Ma’am. I hope it’s okay to call you this late?”

  “Hi Sharon, it’s fine. I’m still working. Have you got something?”

  “I emailed Stefan back, like you suggested. I didn’t tell him we’ve re-opened the case just yet, but I said we were tying up a few loose ends. I asked why his parents had stayed at the Berkley Hotel in particular, and if they’d ever used the hotel before?”