‘They’re absolutely sure?’ Chris said as they waited for the incident room to fill up.
‘Yep. They emailed over a copy of the death certificate. She died in hospital in Perpignan.’
‘Cause of death?’
‘From what I can gather, some kind of cancer.’
‘So, who knew about that, I wonder?’
Clare nodded. ‘Yep. Whoever took over her identity must have known she was dead – and banked on no one else finding out about it, with her being in France.’
‘Bit of a risk.’
‘Maybe. Not impossible, though. Send out a few messages to former classmates saying you’re trying to get in touch with her. You’d soon find out if anyone knew she’d died.’
Sara entered the room and made for a desk near the back. She settled on the edge of it and gave Chris a shy smile. He beamed back.
‘All set for Saturday?’ Clare whispered.
‘I reckon so. She thinks she’s going out with her friends. They’ve said a posh restaurant so she’s bought a new dress.’
‘She’s going to wonder why you’re putting your kilt on, though.’
‘It’s fine. One of the friends has said they’ll have prosecco at her house so she’ll be out by six. Plenty of time for me to change and get over to the hotel.’
Clare smiled at him. ‘Chris, I think it’s a lovely thing to do. She’ll be thrilled.’
‘Hope so.’ He glanced at the door. They were nearly all in. ‘DCI coming up?’
Clare shook her head. ‘Not this morning. I’m updating him by phone.’
Chris raised an eyebrow but Clare ignored it.
‘Did you check up on Sam Harris’s death?’
He was about to reply when the hubbub in the room died away and they all turned to face Clare. She moved to stand in front of the board.
‘Right, everyone. I’ll make this as short as I can. The DCI heard from Europol last night.’ She paused, knowing the impact her words would have, then went on. ‘Jessica Peters died in France five years ago.’
‘Eh?’ someone said.
‘I’m afraid it’s true. So someone is posing as Jessica, using a VPN to disguise her location…’
‘Or his,’ Janey said.
‘Indeed.’
Bill raised his hand. ‘Why not ask one of the WhatsApp group to message her? Draw her out.’
Clare considered this. It was worth a shot. She glanced at Chris. ‘What do you think?’
‘We could ask the hairdresser.’
‘Michelle Delaney? Yes, I suppose. She might not want to, though. Doesn’t seem fair, involving her.’
Nita raised her hand. ‘Boss, I know it’s not exactly ethical but, since we can’t get hold of Lexy Harris, could one of us…’
‘Stop right there, Nita,’ Clare said. ‘If you’re suggesting we send messages impersonating Lexy, then it’s out.’
‘But Lexy does appear to be connected to this case,’ Nita persisted.
Clare shook her head. ‘We’d be breaking the law. I’m sorry guys but it has to be no.’
‘What if it’s the only way to find out who’s behind the messages?’ Chris said.
Clare hesitated. It was a good point. But she couldn’t take the risk. Even if they did find the person sending the messages, it would come out in court and she’d be lucky to keep her job. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘I know. But we can’t do it. At least, it’s way above my pay grade.’
There were a few murmurs round the room. Chris was looking at her and even Sara was frowning.
‘Look, if we exhaust all other avenues I’ll speak to the DCI. But, in the meantime, Sam Harris’s death, Chris?’
Chris got to his feet. ‘Nothing much more than the headteacher told us. Police attended, found Sam face down in the burn, unresponsive. He was taken to Ninewells Hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival. Parents distraught. Gate was normally kept latched. They weren’t sure if someone had lifted the latch out of curiosity, but no further action was taken.’
‘Thanks, Chris.’ Clare looked back at the team. ‘What about Lexy and her parents? Anyone tracked them down?’
Nita took up her notepad. ‘They moved to England, boss. Bristol. Stayed there for a couple of years. Then the parents split up. Father stayed in the family home, mother and Lexy moved out.’
‘Do we know where they went?’
‘No. Father died a few years later. Local cops have been round to speak to the neighbours. One of them said Lexy’s mother was talking about changing her name. Apparently a local paper had run a feature on Sam’s death and it had renewed interest in the case.’
‘Okay, Nita. We should be able to trace her, then. Got her new name?’
‘Sorry, boss. Not so far, and, from what I can gather, you can change your name by deed poll but you don’t have to register the new name.’
Clare gaped. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yep. They recommend it but it’s not mandatory.’
‘Ideal if you do want to drop off the radar,’ Chris said.
Clare frowned. ‘Is that it, Nita? Nothing else?’
‘I’ve maybe got something, boss. The mother worked for a hotel chain…’ Nita glanced down at her notepad again. ‘Stelling Hotels. So she could have moved about with them.’
‘I know it,’ Clare said. ‘There’s one in Glasgow. Out the west end. Can we find her through that, please?’
‘I’m on it,’ Nita said.
‘Okay. If not, try HMRC. They should be able to check her National Insurance number.’ She looked round the room again. ‘What about Lexy – any luck?’
Erin shook her head. ‘Nothing yet, boss. But if we do find the mother, there’s a good chance of finding Lexy.’
Clare nodded. ‘Okay. Classmates – Gillian, you were phoning the Education Department again. Did you find anyone who went into medicine or science?’
Gillian nodded. ‘Yeah, they pulled it off the database. But they could only tell me what the pupils’ plans were at the time they left the school.’
‘And?’
‘Only two went down medical routes. One’s an ambulance driver in Manchester now…’
‘Checked him out?’
‘Yeah. Been on regular shifts for the past couple of weeks. I doubt he’s involved.’
‘And the other?’
‘John Mason.’
‘What?’ It was out before Clare could stop herself. Surely this was the break they’d been waiting for. ‘Tell me?’
‘Left school and started a nursing degree at Dundee uni. But he’s not registered with the Nursing and Midwifery Council so I spoke to the uni. Seems he dropped out after first year.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Still trying to find him. Should have an address this morning, boss.’
‘Get hold of me when you do. We need to pick him up.’
As they filed out of the incident room Chris said, ‘What do you want to do first, Clare?’
She hesitated. ‘Look, I’m not willing to send messages impersonating Lexy.’
‘Yeah, I get that.’
‘But maybe we could persuade Michelle Delaney to send Jessica Peters a message.’
‘Definitely worth a shot. Want to head along there now?’
Michelle Delaney was brushing colour on a client’s hair then wrapping it in foils when Clare and Chris arrived at Razor. A young girl with jet black hair was at the counter and she eyed them nervously. But, before she could speak, Michelle glanced across.
‘Give me five minutes,’ she said, and Clare smiled her thanks. They sat down on the bench watching Michelle expertly applying the colour while the pixie-cut woman backwashed a man’s hair at one of the sinks. Eventually Michelle finished and she passed the woman a magazine and wheeled her trolley over to Clare and Chris. ‘Pretty busy today,’ she said.
‘Can you spare us five minutes?’ Clare asked and Michelle nodded.
They followed her through to the back room again. Michelle closed the door and turned to face them.
Clare had decided not to let Michelle know that Jessica Peters was dead. ‘Michelle, we really need to get in touch with Jessica Peters, but we can’t track her down.’
Michelle frowned. ‘You think she’s keeping a low profile?’
Clare was grateful for the suggestion. ‘Yes, we think so. Thing is, she might have a reason for not wanting to contact us.’
‘Some folk can be funny with the police,’ Chris suggested, continuing the theme.
‘Yeah, I can see that,’ Michelle said. ‘So you want me to message her?’
‘Would you mind? Even if we had some clue as to where she was it would be a huge help.’
Michelle shrugged. ‘Suppose. It’s not like we were that friendly, though.’ She reached in a pocket for her phone. ‘Want me to do it now?’
‘Please.’
‘Okay. You’ll need to tell me what to say, though.’
Clare thought for a minute, then she said, ‘How about…’
Hi Jessica
Hope you’re well.
I could do with some help, if you have time. If you’re back from France just now, could I pick your brains pls? I’ve a cousin wanting to find work out there.
Any pointers would be a huge help. I’ll stand you a drink in return.
Cheers for now,
Michelle
Michelle tapped as Clare spoke then she held out her phone. ‘Look okay?’ she asked.
Clare nodded. ‘Thanks Michelle. I really appreciate it. Obviously if she gets in touch let me know without delay. Don’t open or answer the message. Just call me and I’ll come right over.’
Janey looked up as Clare put her head round the incident room door. ‘John Mason,’ she said.
‘You’ve got him?’
‘Got an address and a workplace. It’s a care home.’
‘Good work, Janey! Give me the details.’
Janey handed Clare a sheet of paper.
‘Pitlethie Care Home,’ Clare read. It rang a vague bell, then she remembered it was the home where Alison Reid’s mother was.
‘I know it,’ Chris said. ‘It’s in Leuchars.’
Clare grabbed her coat. ‘Right. We’ll try the care home first. I want you to follow us, Janey. Get someone else with you and another couple of bodies too. Chris and I will lead the way.’
They raced outside and jumped into cars, Clare and Chris in the first, Janey and Gary with another two uniforms in the second.
‘Blues and twos,’ Clare told Chris and he flicked the switch to turn on the siren and lights. At the roundabout in Guardbridge the traffic from other directions came to a standstill to let the police cars through. As they neared Leuchars Chris killed the siren and lights and they slowed their approach to avoid alerting John Mason.
The care home was a low, modern building in red brick. It sat on a flat, windy site with Tentsmuir Forest to the east and the Eden Estuary beyond. Chris pulled into the car park, followed by the second car. They jumped out and Clare directed the others to go round the side of the building. ‘There must be a few entrances. Fire doors and the like,’ she said, her voice low. ‘Look for the kitchen door too. Staff might nip out for a smoke so it would be an easy exit.’
Once they were all in place Clare pressed the buzzer and asked for the matron.
They were buzzed in and greeted by a smiling woman in a blue dress. Clare thought she was maybe fifty, but a young fifty. There was a youthful energy about her but the light brown hair was threaded with silver here and there and her eyes had crinkled into crows’ feet. She held out a hand. ‘I’m Maria Wilkins. How can I help?’
‘Can we speak in your office?’ Clare said, her voice low.
Maria led them into her office and stood, waiting for an explanation.
‘I don’t want any fuss,’ Clare said, ‘but I need to speak to a member of your staff urgently. John Mason. I understand he works here as a care assistant. Could you ask him to come here please, but don’t tell him the reason.’
Maria spread her hands. ‘I wish I could help, Inspector. But John isn’t working today.’ She moved to a chart on the wall. ‘I’ll have to check but it looks like he’s not due back until Saturday. Late shift so he’ll be here about two, if that helps?’ Her brow clouded. ‘I do hope he’s not in any trouble. He’s an excellent worker and so good with the residents.’
Clare shook her head. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ she said, hoping she sounded convincing. ‘But if you do hear from him before Saturday would you let me know please? It is important.’
Maria nodded. ‘Of course. And I’m guessing you don’t want me to tell him you’re looking for him.’
Clare smiled. ‘That’s correct. We’ll try his house now. But thank you for your time.’