‘Dr Field, did Mark seem to fear for his personal safety? Did he take any precautions beyond the increased security you mentioned?’
‘He started varying his routines. Different routes home, different times for breaks, that sort of thing. And he became very protective of his research materials.’ She paused, remembering. ‘There was one incident I remember. I came into the lab early and found him going through his files, pulling out certain papers and putting them in a separate folder.’
‘Did you see what he was organising?’
‘I asked, but he just said he was cleaning up old projects. But the papers didn’t look like his usual biochemistry research. They looked more like… well, like medical records or case files. Official documents of some kind.’
Brodie felt a chill. ‘What happened to those files?’
‘I assumed they went back to wherever he’d got them from. But now that you mention it, I never saw that particular folder again.’ Field frowned. ‘Though that might not mean anything. Mark was always very organised about returning borrowed materials.’
‘Anything unusual that you can remember when he worked here?’
Field’s expression grew sombre. ‘That’s the strange thing. The day before he died, he came into the lab looking almost excited about something. Completely different from the stressed, paranoid man we’d been seeing for months. Said he might have found a way to prove what he’d been suspecting.’
‘Did he elaborate? Give you any hints about what kind of proof?’
‘No, but he was carrying that manila folder again. The one with the official-looking documents. Kept it close, wouldn’t let anyone else see what was in it.’ Field’s voice dropped. ‘I remember thinking it was odd that he seemed so energised, given how stressed and worried he’d been. Almost like he’d had some kind of breakthrough.’
Brodie made more notes, trying to piece together a timeline of Finlay’s final weeks. The picture emerging was of a man who’d stumbled on to something significant, spent months or even years trying to gather evidence, and then discovered proof just before his death. If that proof had posed a threat to someone dangerous, it would explain both his excitement and his subsequent heart attack.
‘Dr Field, what happened to Mark’s personal effects after he died? His office contents, research files, personal materials?’
‘Standard university procedure. His family – his nephew, I think – collected his personal items within a few days. The university archived his research materials and reassigned hisoffice space.’ Field paused, her expression growing troubled. ‘Though there was something odd about that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I went to his office about a week after his death to retrieve some shared research data we’d been collaborating on. Computer files, lab notebooks, that sort of thing.’ Field’s frown deepened. ‘The place had been cleaned out completely. Not just personal effects – everything. Files, computer hard drive, even his desk calendar and appointment book.’
‘That seems unusually thorough.’
‘That’s what I thought. Usually, when a colleague dies or leaves, their research materials are sorted through carefully, archived according to project and funding source. Important data gets transferred to other researchers. But Mark’s office was stripped bare, like he’d never worked there at all.’
‘Who would have authorised that level of cleaning?’
‘That’s what bothered me. I asked the department head, Professor Williams, about retrieving our shared data. He said everything had been handled by the university’s legal department on instructions from Mark’s family.’ Field shook her head. ‘But when I mentioned it to Mark’s nephew at the funeral, he seemed surprised. Said he’d only collected a few personal photographs and his coffee mug. But there was apparently a lot more in his home office. I don’t know what it was, but you’d have to ask him.’
‘Do you have his details?’
Dr Field nodded and took her phone out and started scrolling. She showed him the details, and Brodie wrote them down in his notebook.
Brodie felt another chill. A systematic removal of all research materials suggested someone had been very concerned aboutwhat Finlay might have documented. ‘Did you report these concerns to anyone?’
‘I mentioned it to Professor Williams, but he said the legal department had handled everything properly. End of discussion.’ Field’s voice carried frustration. ‘You have to understand, chief inspector, losing a colleague suddenly like that is traumatic. Everyone was focused on grief counselling and redistributing his teaching load. Questions about missing files seemed petty in comparison.’
‘But you still thought it was suspicious?’
‘Let’s just say it added to my sense that something wasn’t right about the whole situation. Mark’s behaviour in his final months, his mysterious research interests, the thorough cleaning of his office – it all felt coordinated somehow.’
Brodie closed his notebook and thanked Dr Field for her time and candour. As they walked back through the hospital corridors towards the main entrance, he found himself processing everything he’d learned. Mark Finlay had suspected something was wrong with the deaths connected to The Embalmer case. He’d spent months gathering evidence, getting close to some kind of proof. Then he’d died of an apparent heart attack, and all his research had mysteriously disappeared.
‘Dr Field, one final question. In your professional opinion, was Mark Finlay the kind of person who would pursue dangerous knowledge? Someone who might put himself at risk for the sake of uncovering the truth?’
Field stopped walking and turned to face him directly. ‘Chief Inspector, Mark was one of the most ethically driven people I’ve ever known. If he believed someone was getting away with murder, literally getting away with murder, he would never have let it go. Even if it put him in danger.’
‘Would you be able to send me a list of people Dr Finlay worked with just before his death?’
‘I can. They still work here. They’re a pretty good bunch, but you never know. It’s why I sleep with a can of pepper spray next to my bed.’
