The incident room was a busy hum of chatter when Clare entered the following morning. The blinds were still closed against the early morning darkness, the artificial light glaring and harsh. She glanced round and saw that Cupar and Dundee had been obliging with extra staff and she threw Jim a smile of thanks. He’d pinned up photos of the two victims and Chris was helping him carry in a stack of laptops from the store room.
‘Morning, everyone,’ Clare said, taking up position in front of the whiteboard. ‘Thanks for turning out so early and special thanks to the folks from Cupar and Dundee stations – your help is much appreciated.’
There was a murmur acknowledging this and Clare continued.
‘What we have is two similar but unusual deaths.’ She indicated the first photo. ‘Ingrid McKinnie, thirty-three years old, lived alone in Lamond Drive which is a short walk from here. Found partly submerged in the Kinness Burn in the early hours of the twenty-ninth of December. Ingrid had been out in the town that night but, so far, we don’t know where. She’d been drinking and also had Rohypnol in her system.’
Nita, a plain-clothes officer from Cupar raised her hand. ‘Did she drown, Inspector?’
‘Just Clare is fine, Nita – and no. She didn’t drown. This is where it becomes a bit complicated.’ For what felt like the umpteenth time, Clare explained how pressure had been applied to Ingrid’s neck to stop her heart. ‘After that, she could be quickly and easily strangled.’
‘And that’s why there was minimal bruising?’ Nita asked.
‘Precisely.’
‘Was she sexually assaulted?’
‘Difficult to tell, given she’d been in the water for a good few hours but the pathologist thinks not.’
Another officer raised her hand. ‘Janey, from Bell Street station in Dundee, boss. So the Rohypnol was used to make it easier to strangle her?’
Clare spread her hands. ‘It’s the only reason I can think of. But I’m open to suggestions.’
‘Anything on social media?’ someone asked.
‘We should have that and her phone records later today,’ Clare said. ‘I’d like volunteers to go round the pubs with Ingrid’s photo. See if we can trace her movements on the twenty-eighth.’
Three hands went up at the back of the room and Clare nodded. ‘Sara, will you organise that please?’
Sara nodded to the three volunteers and Clare carried on.
‘As far as we know, Ingrid didn’t have a significant other but Chris and I are seeing the parents this morning so we’ll check that.’ She glanced at Chris and he nodded but said nothing. Clare raised an eyebrow in question but he ignored this, directing his gaze instead at the photos of the two women. Thinking back to his appointment the day before she wondered briefly if he was okay. He hadn’t been keen to talk about it. She hoped he wasn’t ill. Her thoughts were interrupted by a question from Robbie.
‘Where did she work, boss?’
‘Tradgear. An outdoorsy kind of shop. Just off South Street. Chris spoke to the manager yesterday. Not much forthcoming other than she’d recently stopped socialising with the staff.’
She moved along to the photo of Alison and tapped it with her pen.
‘Alison Reid. Also thirty-three. Found dead in her bath by the next-door neighbour on Monday the fourth of January.’ She looked back round the room. ‘Again, Alison had Rohypnol and a small amount of alcohol in her system. Like Ingrid, she had bruising to the neck, suggesting the same murder method.’
‘Any sign of sexual assault?’ Janey asked.
‘The pathologist says not.’
Nita caught Clare’s eye. ‘Could she have been put in the bath to wash away evidence of an assault?’
Clare shrugged. ‘It’s possible, Nita. We may never know. Now, her clothes were left at the side of the bath but the SOCO report says the trousers were outside in…’
‘As though someone pulled them off?’ Nita said.
‘Exactly.’
An older officer in an open-necked shirt raised his hand. ‘Bill, also from Bell Street in Dundee,’ he said by way of introduction.
‘Yes, Bill?’
‘Why would the killer go to the bother of undressing her and running a bath? It seems so contrived.’
‘I agree. Maybe the killer meant to drown Alison in the bath once she was drugged but she fought back and he or she had to strangle her. At this stage we just don’t know.’
‘Don’t forget the wine cork,’ Chris mumbled.
Clare looked across at him. He seemed so subdued this morning. She made a mental note to have a chat with him before they headed out to see Ingrid’s parents. ‘Yeah, thanks Chris.’ She turned back to the assembled officers. ‘SOCO found a wine cork and a corkscrew in the kitchen but no sign of a bottle.’
‘Checked the fridge?’ Janey asked.
‘Yep. Nothing there and no glasses sitting out either. Now we could have missed it when the house was checked so we need to go over it again.’
Janey indicated she would do this.
‘Thanks, Janey. Take Robbie with you – he was first on the scene so he’ll be able to fill you in.’ Clare looked down at her notepad and went on. ‘SOCO also said there was food in the oven – a dozen sausage rolls.’
‘Oven still on?’ Bill asked.
Clare shook her head. ‘No. Either Alison or her guest – if she had one – must have turned it off. And I’d say a dozen sausage rolls is too much for one person.’
‘I’d give it a go,’ someone said but Clare ignored this.
‘Anything amiss at Ingrid’s house?’ Nita asked.
‘Not sure yet, Nita. Chris and I will go in after we’ve seen the parents.’ Clare glanced back at Janey. ‘Was there anything noted at the time, Janey?’
‘Not that I recall. But I’ll check the report.’
Gillian, one of the uniformed PCs, raised her hand. ‘Boss, did the two women know each other?’
‘It’s possible. According to the Education Department both women attended Lamond Primary School in the town; but we don’t know if they were in the same class. They went to different secondaries so the primary school link needs to be checked.’
‘I’ll call the school,’ Gillian said, and Clare smiled her thanks.
‘Now,’ Clare went on, ‘Alison Reid has an ex-husband. Name of Miles Sharp – he’s a partner in Sharp and Lafferty, accountants in Hope Street. Alison worked there while they were married but Miles had an affair with the other partner, Cheryl Lafferty, now the new Mrs Sharp. They’ve been divorced five years but Miles admitted he and Alison met for a chat in his car on the third of December. His story is Alison was trying to rekindle their relationship. But we’ve seen an exchange of emails between them – all quite guarded – and it certainly doesn’t read that way.’
‘Does Cheryl Sharp know this?’ Janey asked.
‘He says not.’ Clare paused for a minute then said, ‘I’m not convinced Miles had anything to do with Alison’s death. And he denies knowing Ingrid McKinnie. But he’s definitely hiding something.’
Clare scanned the room to see if there were any questions then said, ‘Okay, that’s it.’
There were murmurs and the sound of chairs scraping back. Laptops were switched on and began humming to life.
Clare looked round for Chris. He was chatting to Janey who was relating a story, gesturing with her hands. As Clare approached, Janey delivered the punchline and Chris began to laugh. And then Clare saw why he’d been hanging back at the briefing.
‘Bloody hell, Chris! There’s a piano somewhere, missing a set of keys. What on earth have you done to your teeth?’
Janey snorted and Chris’s hand went to his mouth.
‘Just a scale and polish,’ he muttered.
‘Liar. You’ve had them whitened. I can feel your smile burning the backs of my eyes.’
‘They’re not that bad.’
‘They are quite white, Chris. What does Sara say?’
‘Not much. Suppose it’ll fade.’
‘In a few months! You’d better get start gargling with Pinot Noir.’
‘You done?’
‘For now. C’mon, then. Let’s see how the McKinnies are bearing up.’