The Eye in the Dark

by Katherine Pathak

  “Has he replied?”

  “Yes, I just got the message a few minutes ago. He says it was a new destination for his parents. According to Stefan, his mum won one of those online competitions. The prize was a city break to the Berkley Hotel in Glasgow.”

  Dani’s heart-rate sped up. “I wonder if Greta Bauer actually recalled ever having entered that competition?”

  “If you’ve won a prize and the tickets drop onto your doormat, I don’t suppose you’re going to question it much.”

  Dani tapped her pen against the pad of paper containing the notes she’d made so far. “Can we assume Lomond deliberately lured the Bauers to that hotel room?”

  “I’d say so, Ma’am. Have you had any luck yet in working out why he wanted them there?”

  “No, there’s nothing at all to suggest a connection. Denny is roughly the same age as the Bauers’ children, maybe five years younger, but that’s about it.”

  Sharon was quiet for a moment, before adding, “Dermot and I had a hunch Klaus Bauer got up to something top-secret when he worked for the GDR in the eighties. I’ve no idea if it has any bearing on Lomond’s involvement, but we thought it could have put him under the spotlight of the Intelligence Services. Now Stefan is in possession of a letter which gives details of the work his father did behind the Iron Curtain. I’d love to see what was written there.”

  “I don’t see how it would connect Klaus to Denny, but I agree it would make for fascinating reading. If the DCS allows us to overturn the Fiscal’s finding of death by natural causes, we can probably instruct Stefan to release the letter to us.”

  Sharon sighed audibly. “I’ve spoken with the Fiscal’s Office. The PM results still suggest natural cases for both Klaus and Greta. They say it doesn’t much matter what position their bodies were in when they died, there’s no forensic evidence to suggest a third party was involved. They didn’t pick up any usable DNA from their nightwear - not anything that didn’t belong to the Bauers themselves. I reckon the judgement will stand.”

  “Then it’s up to us to find more evidence,” Dani said resignedly.

  “We’ll get back on it first thing at this end. Good night, Ma’am.”

  “Good night, Sharon, and well done.” Dani placed the phone back on the bed. Keating’s painting was directly in her line of vision. She slid off the bed and turned it around, deciding to call it a night. Dani didn’t fancy the image of the mangled, scorched plane being the first thing she set eyes on when she woke up.

  *

  Nate was looking excitable when Dani arrived at the criminal investigation department. He’d clearly had more luck than her.

  “Dani, I’ve just got off the phone from the Domestic Services Manager at Lomond Airlines.” He pulled out a seat for her at his desk. “Diane Martin said he was efficient, and she wasn’t wrong.”

  Dani raised her eyebrows with interest.

  “I was requesting a full list of the names and addresses of their current cleaning and maintenance staff, when I had a thought. I decided to ask him for the details of anyone who had been employed at Lomond since they opened at Heathrow, three years ago. I thought maybe an ex-employee had held on to a uniform, or a pass perhaps? I know it happens here at the station sometimes.”

  “Good thinking.” Dani gripped the arms of her chair.

  “The manager was pleased to help. He had all the details on his database.” Nate swivelled the screen 180 degrees. “Look who used to work at Lomond Airlines as a cleaner and maintenance man.”

  Dani blinked several times as she focused on the name. “John Lomond.”

  “Yep. He did the job for about six months in 2015. The manager said he was good at the maintenance stuff, but less good at the cleaning. He left to take on another job Mr Lomond had lined up for him, something with better prospects.”

  “Do we know what that was?”

  “Supervising the renovation of Denny Lomond’s property in Henley-on-Thames. John was the ‘project manager’, apparently, doing some of the building work himself.”

  Dani rubbed her brow. “John Lomond could easily still be in possession of a Lomond Airlines cleaner’s uniform and entry pass. Is this enough for us to bring him in for questioning, along with the fact his build and height match the suspect in the CCTV?”

  Nate grinned. “We’ll face a shit-storm from the Lomond lawyers, but I reckon it does, yes.”

  Chapter 34

  The name of the place had firmly lodged itself in Rhodri’s mind. Balloch House. It was the look Betsy had in her eyes when she implored her husband to take her back there that had stayed with him. Betsy claimed it was the only place she’d felt safe.

  The plea reminded Rhodri of the words uttered by a handful of his own patients, the ones who became institutionalised during their treatment and feared the outside world. From the way Betsy spoke, he got the distinct impression Balloch House may have been a psychiatric unit. What in his early career would have been termed, an asylum.

  There was no mention of the place in any of Betsy’s psychiatric notes. Rhodri had gone online and put the name into a search engine. Balloch was a town in the Highlands, as he already knew. There was a castle there, plenty of hotels, but no Balloch House.

  The professor drummed his fingers on the desk in his office. He couldn’t shake the feeling Betsy’s ramblings held some significance, they weren’t the random nonsense that Mike suggested. Finally, Rhodri picked up his phone and dialled the number on the card in front of him.

  “DI Muir? It’s Rhodri Morgan, here. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but it’s about Betsy Carlisle. I’m afraid her mental condition has deteriorated. I’d very much like a chance to discuss it with you further.”

  *

  Sharon offered Rhodri a hot drink as soon as he stepped out of the lift onto the serious crime division office floor.

  “No thank you, DS Moffett. But I appreciate the hospitality.”

  She led him straight to Bevan’s office, where Dermot had the notes from the Bauer case laid out on the desk.

  Rhodri raised his hand to wave to Andy Calder at his workstation as they passed. The DS was observing the arrival of the professor with an expression of confusion and disbelief.

  “We’ve not had time to get Andy up to speed yet,” Sharon said, by way of explanation. “I think he might actually explode.”

  “Oh dear, he doesn’t like to be kept in the dark.”

  Sharon chuckled. “Let him stew.”

  The DS closed the door firmly behind them.

  Dermot raised his gaze from the case file. “Good afternoon, Professor. I’m glad you could come in. I didn’t want to explain all this over the phone.” The DI gestured to the notes fanned out before them.

  It took about thirty minutes to explain the latest developments in the Bauer case and how the German couple’s deaths were linked to Bevan’s investigation in London.

  Rhodri lowered himself into a chair whilst he listened intently. “So, this Denny Lomond was Autumn’s boss at Lomond Airlines, and he also owns the Berkley Hotel, where the Bauer couple were found dead?”

  Dermot nodded. “Bevan thinks Denny Lomond lured the couple over to the hotel from Germany, then somehow orchestrated their deaths. Of course, he has an alibi for all the killings. But she’s determined to make a connection between them.”

  “Is this Denny Lomond responsible for Autumn’s death?”

  “Again, he has a cast iron alibi for the night she died, but Bevan thinks he may get his brother, John, to perform the murders for him. The Hammersmith criminal investigation team are bringing him in for questioning today.”

  Rhodri shook his head in bewilderment. “Do you think Mike and Betsy could be connected to this in anyway? Is that why you wanted me to come here?”

  Dermot shrugged. “There must be a reason why Autumn went to work for Lomond Airlines when she did. The interviews with her friends and ex-colleagues suggest she was happy at BA. She loathed the bucket-shop ethos of the budget airlines
. Yet, she gave up everything to work for Denny Lomond. Within a couple of months, she was dead. We need to know what kind of hold he had over Autumn. Her parents may provide the key to understanding it. Perhaps Denny knew the family when he was in Glasgow?”

  Rhodri rubbed his soft beard. “Betsy was muttering all kinds of stuff the other morning, when she was in a hyper-anxious state. She described an incident involving a vehicle crashing into trees. Betsy said she’d watched it happen from a window. The vehicle went on fire. Someone tried to release the driver from the wreckage, but they couldn’t get near. She watched the man burn to death. Could that have been real?”

  “Remember the transcripts of the nightmares Betsy suffered a few years ago. They were all about plane crashes. Could this vehicle she was talking about be an aeroplane?” Dermot eyed the professor carefully.

  “It would certainly make sense. Aircraft are packed with fuel. If the tanks are ruptured in a crash, they very quickly go up in flames.”

  “Even if this event really happened, what has it got to do with Autumn Carlisle and Denny Lomond? Or the Bauers for that matter?” Sharon threw her arms up in the air.

  Rhodri scratched his head vigorously, as if trying to encourage his brain to work harder. “The death of her daughter has unsettled Betsy’s mental state. The words pouring out of her now could be the dislodging of memories long suppressed.”

  “Why would Betsy have needed to suppress them?” Dermot was staring fixedly at the professor.

  “Because she was involved in something terribly traumatic, or illegal maybe. Betsy could have been keeping a secret to protect a loved one perhaps.”

  “We need more to go on than a sketchy description of an aircraft crash!” Dermot paced the room in exasperation.

  “There is more.” Rhodri shifted in his seat to keep Muir in his line of vision. “Betsy was begging her husband to take her to a place called Balloch House. Mike said it didn’t exist, but I looked it up, anyway. I couldn’t find a trace of any establishment of that name.”

  Dermot froze. “Balloch is near Inverness, isn’t it? That’s where Mike Carlisle grew up and spent his early career. It’s where he and Betsy got married.”

  “Mike told me they’d lived for a while in the Highlands when Autumn was a small child. That could be where he meant.”

  “We need to find out where this Balloch House is, and what Betsy and Mike were doing there. If the place is real, then I think it will be the key to unlocking Betsy’s memory.”

  Rhodri nodded solemnly. “I think you are right.”

  Chapter 35

  Entering the interview room, Dani carefully took in the appearance of the man seated on the other side of the table.

  John Lomond was like an elongated, broadened version of his older brother. Where Denny’s hair had receded to nothing, John’s was thick and dark, with only the most sporadic sprinkling of grey. But the family resemblance was still evident in the flat, boxer-like nose and deep-set eyes of the younger man.

  The solicitor seated beside their suspect was impeccably dressed in a pin-striped jacket and silk blouse, a pair of designer glasses perched imperiously on the end of her nose.

  Nate was reciting the time and date for the benefit of the tape recorder. He directed his gaze at Lomond. “John Lomond. Can you tell us how long you have resided at the Lake House, Henley-on-Thames?”

  “Three years and two months.” The reply was clipped and perfunctory.

  “This property belongs to your brother, Dennis Lomond?”

  “Aye, that’s correct.”

  “Do you pay him any rent to live there?”

  Lomond shifted in his chair. “I contribute to our household expenses, yes.”

  “How do you do that, Sir? We don’t have any evidence that you are currently in employment?”

  Lomond’s eyes flashed irritation, anger maybe. “I keep the property maintained; tending the gardens and doing any work in the house that’s needed. When Denny bought the place, it required a total refurb. I took on a lot of the work myself. I did all the flooring and decorating.”

  “So, you are receiving a wage from Dennis Lomond?”

  John sighed heavily. “Not as such. We’re family. I help Denny out and he does the same for me. We don’t have anyone else, just each other.”

  “But you have done paid work for Dennis Lomond’s company in the past?” Nate make a point of flicking back through his notes. “You worked as a domestic cleaner and maintenance person for Lomond Airlines between February and July 2015, is that correct?”

  John shot his solicitor a sideward glance. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Yes, that is correct.”

  “You would have been given a uniform and a security card during that time, so that you could move freely around the airport. What did you do with those items when you finished working for the airline in July 2015?” Nate leant forward. “Because the domestic services manager doesn’t have any record of you returning them.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Where were you on the afternoon of the 12th July, between four and six pm?”

  “At home.”

  “Can anyone verify that’s where you were?”

  John shook his head. “I was working out in the garden. One of the neighbours might have seen me, or someone out on the river.”

  “And what about the night of the 3rd July, between midnight and 6am?”

  “In bed, asleep.”

  “Do you know what happened on these dates?”

  “Nope.”

  “Your brother’s employees; Autumn Carlisle and Kathy Brice were murdered.”

  He remained impassive, his gaze fixed on the table top.

  “And what about the 28th of June? Were you in Henley on that date?”

  John slid his eyes in the direction of his solicitor once again. This time she remained perfectly still. “No comment,” he replied.

  Nate slipped a piece of paper out of a plastic file. “I think you took a little trip on that date. We’ve found your name on the passenger list of a Lomond flight to Prestwick which arrived on the evening of the 27th. Where did you stay while you were in Glasgow? At one of your brother’s hotels?”

  John narrowed his eyes to pinpricks. “No comment.”

  “There’s no record of you checking into either the Triton or the Berkley, but then, I don’t suppose there would be. Your brother has his staff there very well trained to do what he asks. I’m sure they would happily give you a room, off the books. But taking a flight requires you to go through passport control, every individual is logged by airport security. There’s no way to avoid leaving a trace. Perhaps you should have taken the car instead, eh?”

  John clasped his hands together in his lap, as if holding himself back from placing them around Nate’s throat.

  “You see, the 28th June was the date when a German couple, called Mr and Mrs Bauer, died in a room in your brother’s hotel. They’d both experienced a severe cardiac arrest. Although the manager tried to cover it up, we’ve discovered that they both appeared to have suffered a terrifying experience before death, one that no-doubt precipitated their heart attacks.” Nate made a show of rummaging around in a bulky evidence bag by his feet. “We gained a warrant to search the house in Henley. Our team has been there all morning.”

  John’s eyes were darting to and fro, but his body remained rigid.

  “We didn’t find the Lomond Airlines domestic cleaner uniform and lanyard, unfortunately.” Nate gave an exaggerated frown. “But one of our officers did find this.”

  Lomond shot backwards in his seat as Nate brought a small bottle containing a metallic silver liquid out of the bag, placing it in the centre of the desk.

  “It wasn’t easy to find. It was under a floorboard in the boathouse by the river, where you keep your gardening equipment and tools. I don’t suppose you could dispose of it as easily as a uniform and pass, not without poisoning half of west London in the process.”

  The solicitor cleared
her throat. “What is it, exactly, Detective Inspector Lawrence?”

  “Our forensic department reliably informs us this vial contains 25ml of mercury.” Nate squinted at the container, as if in fascination. “Did you know, it’s the only metal which is liquid at room temperature?” Nate reached out for the vial, swirling the liquid around inside it.

  Lomond flinched. “Be careful, for Christ’s sake,” he hissed.

  “Mercury is also known as quicksilver, because of its colour, I suppose. It was once widely used; in thermometers. That was before scientists discovered it was toxic to humans.” Suddenly, Nate tossed the glass vial in the air, catching it again, just before it crashed to the floor.

  Lomond kicked back his chair and leapt to his feet. “What the hell are you doing, you maniac?!” He glared at his solicitor. “He can’t do that, can he? The man’s going to bloody well poison us!”

  The solicitor reached out to tug her client back into his seat. “Can we be spared the circus act, DI Lawrence. Please get to the point.”

  Nate grinned. “I see you understand the mercury’s potentially toxic properties, Mr Lomond. The ancient Greeks thought it could prolong life. They put it into ointments and cosmetics. How wrong they were. We now know exactly what repeated exposure to mercury can do to a person.” His expression grew more serious. “The chemical was used to make felt-hats in the 19th Century. Then all the workers started to display the psychological symptoms associated with mercury poisoning, hence the term, ‘mad as a hatter’. They banned its use pretty much universally in the 1960s. I didn’t know any of that until the techies told me. How about you, John. Did you know?”

  The man grunted. His solicitor nudged his arm. “No comment,” he managed to murmur.

  “But it was still being used in the production of weapons, right up until the 1980s. It is still used in the production of nuclear bombs now. All the nastiest regimes and terrorists are trying to get hold of it.”

  John turned his gaze away from Lawrence. His mouth twisted into a grimace.

  Nate held up the vial. “I don’t really know why they would want it. Mercury can be so easily absorbed through the skin or through the nose and mouth as a vapour. If exposed over a series of time, a person can develop terrible side effects; it has a profound impact on the central nervous system, resulting in psychotic episodes. A sufferer of mercury poisoning will experience hallucinations and delirium, tremors, memory loss and even suicidal urges.”