‘Chief Inspector Brodie?’ She stood as he approached, extending her hand with a firm grip that spoke of confidence despite her weary appearance. ‘Emily Field. I have to say, I was surprised to get your call. Mark’s been dead for four years. What’s this all about?’
‘I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me,’ Brodie said, settling into the uncomfortable plastic chair across from her. The canteen was busy and noisy, with conversations mixing with the cutlery clatter and the coffee machine’s hiss. ‘I understand you worked closely with Dr Finlay before his death,’ Brodie said.
‘We did. Same department, similar research interests in metabolic disorders. Mark was a good colleague, reliable and thorough.’ She paused, stirring her coffee absently while studying Brodie’s face. ‘Brilliant scientist, actually. His research on enzyme deficiencies was groundbreaking. His death was a real loss to the department.’
Brodie pulled out his notebook, making Field sit up straighter. ‘I’m investigating some historical connections relevant to a current case. Can you tell me about Dr Finlay’s state of mind in the months before his death?’
Field’s expression grew thoughtful. ‘That’s an interesting question. Mark had been under a lot of stress, actually. Working longer hours than usual, not sleeping well, he said, and starting to look dishevelled towards the end. The kind of chronic stress that puts you at risk for cardiac events.’ Her voice carried the clinical detachment of someone who’d seen too many colleagues burn out. ‘When we heard he’d had a heart attack, nobody was shocked, unfortunately.’
‘What was causing the stress? Were there specific work-related pressures?’
‘That’s what we all assumed at the time. Academic life is demanding – research grants to maintain, papers to publish and teaching responsibilities. Mark was working on some particularly complex projects, had funding deadlines approaching, and the usual pressures.’ Field hesitated, her fingers drumming against her coffee cup. ‘But looking back now, with the perspective of time, I think there was something else bothering him.’
Brodie leaned forward slightly. ‘Such as?’
‘He started acting strangely about three months before his death. Paranoid might be too strong a word, but certainly more guarded than usual. Said things that didn’t make sense in context, seemed distracted during department meetings.’ She lowered her voice despite the busy canteen around them. ‘He would comment about knowing something wasn’t right, but he was frustratingly vague about the details.’
‘Can you give me an example of what he said?’
Field frowned, clearly trying to recall specific conversations from years ago. ‘He’d make offhand comments during coffee breaks, things like “people don’t see what’s right in front of them” or “the truth is being buried”. When pressed for details, he’d shake his head and say it was nothing.’
‘Did he seem frightened? Like he felt personally threatened?’
‘More frustrated than frightened, I think. Like he knew something important but couldn’t find a way to prove it or get anyone to take him seriously.’ Field paused, stirring her coffee again. ‘Though now that you mention it, he did start being more careful about certain things: always locking his office when he stepped out, being vague about some of his research, checking over his shoulder in the car park.’ She sighed. ‘It seemed to start a few months after his wife’s death. It took a lot out of him, and people started to think it had hit him hard, mentally. Like he had been tipped over the edge.’
Brodie made careful notes, building a picture of a man under increasing pressure. ‘Did he ever mention specific cases or investigations bothering him?’
‘Actually, yes. I remember one incident clearly because it seemed so out of character.’ Field’s voice grew more animated as the memory returned. ‘He was in the canteen one day, maybe two months before he died, and he started talking about a murderer. Said something about people not seeing what was right before them, about patterns being ignored.’
Brodie felt his pulse quicken. ‘Did he mention The Embalmer? The serial killer they were investigating in Fife around that time?’
‘Yes, that was it exactly. The case was all over the news – young women found on beaches, positioned in that disturbing way. Mark seemed particularly agitated about it, and he said maybe he should be running the investigation since the police were getting nowhere. Then he said things were going on that nobody but him could see. He was acting really weird. People started to avoid him.’ Emily looked at him. ‘I remember because I heard on the news today that there’s been another body found with similar characteristics. Is that connected to your interest in Mark?’
‘That’s correct,’ Brodie confirmed carefully. ‘We’re investigating possible connections between current events and the historical case. But here’s what puzzles me – why was Dr Finlay so interested in The Embalmer investigation when he had no professional connection to it? He was a biochemist, not a forensic pathologist.’
‘That’s exactly what I wondered at the time.’ Field leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. ‘Mark’s expertise was in enzyme chemistry and metabolic disorders. He occasionally consulted on toxicology cases, but serial murder investigations were completely outside his area. It seemed like an unusual obsession for someone with his background. But when he was ranting that day, he was talking about murders happening right under their noses. Meaning you, the police.’
‘Did he mention any murder in particular?’ Brodie asked.
Field shook her head. ‘No. We all thought he was having a breakdown, to be honest.’
‘Did he ever explain his interest? Give you any indication of how he became involved?’
‘Not directly about The Embalmer case specifically. But there was one conversation we had that might be relevant.’ Field hesitated, as if debating whether to share something sensitive. ‘It was maybe a month before he died. We were both working late – again – and found ourselves walking to the car park together around 10p.m.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He seemed particularly agitated that night, and he kept looking around like he was worried about being overheard. Then he told me that some deaths didn’t seem right. People who had been connected to cases, he said. When I asked him what he meant, he got that closed-off look he’d developed.’
‘Did he give you any specifics? Names, circumstances, anything concrete?’
Field shook her head slowly. ‘No, and that was frustrating about trying to help him. He would start to say something significant, then pull back. He said nobody would believe him anyway and he was probably imagining patterns that weren’t there.’
‘But you don’t think he was imagining things?’
‘Absolutely not. That’s what made his behaviour so concerning and unusual.’ Field’s response was immediate and firm. ‘Mark was the most methodical, evidence-based person I’ve ever worked with. Sceptical by nature, always demanding proof before accepting any hypothesis. If he thought something was wrong, there was usually a very good reason for it.’
Brodie studied Field’s face, looking for any indication that she might know more than she was saying. But her expression seemed genuinely puzzled, as if she was still trying to make sense of her old colleague’s behaviour after all these years.
