Blood and Stone (29 page)

‘As if she was watching for someone?' Knox asked, going cold inside.

‘It could have been, yes,' Giles admitted. ‘When I first met Kat she used to have this fear that the men who snatched her in Tirana would come back for her, and punish her for what she did, for escaping. On one level she knew that it was irrational – the likelihood of it happening again. I just thought she was succumbing to those fears again; being paranoid.'

‘Wouldn't you be scared if you'd been through what she had?' Knox asked, perhaps a little harshly. Kat had effectively been snatched from her home city, trafficked from her native Albania and sold into prostitution, until Granville Lane officers, he and Mariner among them, had rescued her along with others in a dawn raid on the property where she was being held. Prats like Giles couldn't begin to imagine what that might be like, or what deeply rooted effects it could have.

‘Sorry, poor choice of word.' Giles was contrite. ‘But logically Kat knew the chances of them picking her up again were slim. Apart from anything else she's wise to them now.'

‘You make it sound like she'd have a choice,' Knox pointed out.

‘But surely those men are either dead or in prison,' said Giles.

‘They don't operate in isolation,' Knox said. All the speculation wasn't really helping. ‘The point is, I need to find her,' said Knox. ‘If she's not at her flat or here, where else might she go?'

Giles shook his head. ‘I don't know. I think she has friends, or even just contacts in London, but I don't know where exactly.'

‘Do you have a key to her flat? I need to have a look round, see if she's left any indication of where she might have gone.'

‘Yes, sure.' Giles got up and went over to a pot that stood on a wooden chest. Lifting the lid, he took out a handful of keys, separating out one from the others.

‘Do you keep all your keys in there?' Knox asked, taking the proffered one from Giles.

‘Normally, yes.'

‘Does Kat put hers in there too, when she stays here?'

‘Yes, I think so.'

‘Does your friend Hugo know that?' asked Knox.

The look told him enough.

‘What does he look like, your friend Hugo? Long hair, growing himself a beard?' Knox persisted.

‘Why?' Giles was suspicious now.

‘A couple of days ago I disturbed an intruder at DI Mariner's place. He ran off and was too fast for me, but someone's been in there before and has given it a going over. The first time I went in stuff was missing and the kitchen was a tip, but there was no indication of a forced entry. Does Hugo know that Kat has a key to that house?'

‘I suppose he might have worked it out.'

‘Jesus Christ.' Knox glared at Giles. ‘Well then, I'll want a word with him too.' Knox gave Giles a business card bearing all his contact details. ‘If you don't want to end up in a bigger mess than you are, you'll let me know immediately either of them turns up. Do you understand?'

‘Yes, of course.' Fumbling to remove Katarina's key from his own bunch, and handing it over in exchange, Giles looked as if he was about to cry.

On his way home Knox stopped off for a pint and to pick up a takeaway, so that by the time he drove into his cul-de-sac it was late. It wasn't bin collection day, so he was surprised to see Jean walking around her garden, gathering up what looked like rubbish. Getting out of his car, he went across to her. ‘What's going on?'

‘Can you believe this?' she said, clearly in some distress. She was clutching an assortment of cellophane-wrapped flowers and teddy bears. ‘People keep leaving them, as if this is some kind of memorial! I feel as if I'm being accused of something.'

‘Here, I'll get rid of them.' Knox took them from her, noticing how tired and drawn she looked. ‘How's Michael coping with it?' he asked.

She managed a brief smile. ‘It's opened his eyes to the reality of drugs,' she said, ‘at least for the moment. He's talking to me a bit too. I suppose that's one good thing that's come out of it. Did you know he was smoking weed?'

‘I had an idea,' Knox said.

‘I don't know if people have been having a go at him too. He's stopped going out so much and now I'm worried that he might be getting isolated. How ironic is that?'

‘Are his mates okay with him?'

‘I don't think anyone's blaming him, if that's what you mean.'

‘Who are they blaming?'

‘I don't know.' She glanced away down the street, and Knox wondered if she might know more than she was telling him. Kirsty had issues anyway. I think they're putting it partly down to that. The inquest is next week I understand.'

‘Well, tell Michael that Nelson could still use some exercise, any time he feels like it.'

‘Thanks, I will.'

Jean disappeared into her house, and as Knox crossed back over the road an unfamiliar car drew up outside, driven by a middle-aged woman. He waited until she got out, along with a girl of about ten, and deposited a bunch of flowers and a candle on the grass verge. Taking his warrant card out of his jacket pocket, Knox stalked back over the road just as they were returning to their car, gathered up the flowers and thrust them back at the woman, making sure she got a good look at his ID. ‘This is not a memorial site,' he said. ‘If you want to pay tribute to Kirsty Fullerton, go to her funeral or post a message on Facebook.' He was about to walk away, but stopped to ask, ‘How did you know Kirsty?'

The woman looked mildly uncomfortable. ‘Oh, we didn't know her personally. But we saw it in the paper and on the news.'

Knox walked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

D
espite the electrifying proximity of the near-naked Suzy Yin, Mariner must have dozed off again, because when he next awoke it was light and he could hear rooks cawing outside the window. The bed was empty beside him, and getting up to go to the bathroom he found a note on the kitchen table telling him to help himself to breakfast and stay as long as he wanted to. But without her presence the place was much less inviting and by the middle of the morning he was back at the pub.

Climbing the stairs to the landing Mariner came face to face with Megan. For a moment he wondered why she was lurking there, until he realized she was waiting for him.

‘You're a policeman, aren't you?' she said timidly. ‘I'm worried about Joe – Mr Hennessey. He hasn't been to breakfast for the last two days.'

‘No law against having a lie-in,' Mariner pointed out, then seeing her distressed expression immediately regretted his flippancy. ‘You mean you haven't seen him at all?'

‘No, and he's not answering his phone. What do you think I should do? I mean, I know he's a guest here and doesn't have to answer to anyone …'

‘He is a witness though.' Mariner frowned. ‘The police won't want him going AWOL.' She stared at him blankly. ‘They won't want him to leave without letting them know. When did you last see him?'

‘Monday lunchtime. He had a drink and a sandwich in the bar. We were going to spend the afternoon together, but then he suddenly said he had to go out.'

‘Did he say why?'

‘No, but it's happened before. Sometimes the weather conditions are just right for taking photographs, or mean there's more chance of seeing the falcons.'

‘You haven't seen him at all for two days? What about his car?'

‘It's gone from the car park.'

‘Are you sure he hasn't just moved on?' From what little Mariner had seen of Hennessey he could imagine that to be his style and Megan's was a heart just waiting to be broken.

‘If he has, Dad will be annoyed. He hasn't paid his bill.' Her eyes glistened. ‘He said he liked me. I'm sure he wouldn't have gone without saying goodbye.'

‘No, I'm sure you're right,' Mariner said. In truth he was anything but sure. Hennessey was an attractive young red-blooded male. The most likely explanation Mariner could think of was that he had met another woman, someone who was a bit less needy than Megan, and had shared her bed for the last couple of nights (he would have bet a week's wages that Hennessey wasn't plagued with any difficulties in that department). But that wasn't at all what Megan wanted to hear.

‘Have you got a spare key to his room, and a pair of rubber gloves I could borrow?' he asked her. She nodded to both. ‘Let's have a quick look to see if he's left anything behind, and if there's any clue to where he might have gone.' All of which, strictly speaking, was ethically questionable, given that Mariner was off-duty, but he was being pragmatic. Megan appeared to be quite a highly strung young woman and Griffith had enough on his plate already without worrying about a misper that might not be. This could save him a wasted journey and time he didn't have.

Turning the key in the lock of Hennessey's room, Mariner had a sudden gruesome flashback to his discovery of Jeremy Bryce, but on pushing open the door he exhaled. Hennessey wasn't there in any shape or form, but he had left a lot of stuff behind, and it looked to Mariner at first glance as if the room had been turned over.

‘He's not a very tidy man,' Megan said from over his shoulder, anticipating his thoughts. It was quite an understatement: stepping into the room Mariner had to pick his way over clothing, magazines and an impressive collection of empty beer bottles. It didn't appear to be work that was keeping Hennessey out; if he had gone off on a photography expedition, he had neglected to take the crucial equipment – his camera bag with the camera body and half a dozen different lenses was still sitting on the floor. Mariner thought about cameras and how easy it was for them to get someone into trouble, should they be pointing in the wrong direction. A notebook-style laptop on the desk was switched off and closed, but Mariner knew better than to tamper with that at this stage. At first glance there seemed no sign of Hennessey's wallet or phone, so using only his gloved fingertips Mariner eased open the camera bag, but there was nothing in there either.

‘I still don't think there's anything to worry about,' Mariner said to Megan. ‘But I'm going to just let DI Griffith know. Can I leave you to lock up?'

Her eyes widened. ‘You think this is bad too, don't you?'

‘I'm sure there will be a simple and innocent explanation,' said Mariner, not entirely truthfully. ‘But Mr Hennessey is an important witness and DI Griffith does need to know where he can get hold of him.' She'd have to make of that what she liked. Mariner hadn't overlooked Joe Hennessey as a possible suspect. If not at the pub, then where was he on Monday night when Bryce was killed? And why had he disappeared? At the back of his mind Mariner had always acknowledged to himself that he could have misread the reason for Hennessey's panic in Plackett's Wood, when Theo Ashton's body was found. Fear and guilt could present in exactly the same way, regardless of the reasons behind them, and it didn't take too much imagination to see Megan lying, or perhaps stretching the truth to provide Hennessey with an alibi. In the privacy of his room, Mariner got on the phone to Griffith.

‘Did Joe Hennessey let you know that he was moving on?' Mariner asked.

‘Not that I'm aware of,' said Griffith.

‘Well, this might be nothing, but he hasn't been seen for a couple of days,' Mariner went on.

‘Oh, Christ.' Mariner could hear the weariness in Griffith's voice.

‘There may be no need for concern,' Mariner said. ‘His car has gone from the car park. I took the liberty of having a quick look around his room – don't worry, I didn't interfere with anything. He's left some of his stuff behind and I couldn't at first glance see a phone or wallet, so it could just be that he's gone away for a day or two and plans to come back.' He lowered his voice. ‘Megan here is pretty intense. He may have just needed some time to himself.'

‘Might he have gone on a longer expedition?' Griffith asked.

‘Not to take photographs,' Mariner said. ‘He's left the camera equipment behind.'

‘And now he's disappeared,' said Griffith. ‘This I could do without.' There was a momentary pause while Griffith gathered his thoughts. ‘Ordinarily it wouldn't matter of course, Hennessey's life is his own, but I did specifically ask him to notify us of any movements. He didn't seem to have a problem with that.'

‘He might have just forgotten,' Mariner pointed out. ‘He seemed a relaxed sort of guy.'

‘I'll send over a couple of lads, just to give his room the once over. They can talk to Megan as well. She might have some idea of what he's really up to.'

‘You can try but she was the one who alerted me. Wherever he might be, it doesn't seem as if he's let her in on it.'

‘Have you got the details on his car? I'll get my boys to keep a look out for it.'

Mariner passed on the make, colour and registration as Megan had given it to him. It was unremarkable; the kind of car that would blend in. ‘If he's taken his phone with him it might help you to locate him, as long as he's not in a dead area.'

‘The way my luck's going? What are the chances of that?' Griffith said wryly.

‘Like I said,' Mariner reassured Griffith, ‘it's probably nothing at all; he may well show up again at any time. I just thought that given what else is going on around here and his proximity to it, you wouldn't want him going completely off the radar.'

‘Thanks,' said Griffith. ‘I appreciate it. And you'll let me know if he shows up again?'

Mariner assured Griffith that he would.

In the event Ryan Griffith himself came down to supervise the search of Hennessey's room. Mariner had returned to his own room along the landing by now, but he heard voices and the heavy footfall on the stairs. Shortly afterwards there came a knock on Mariner's door. It was Griffith.