Chris Collett - [Tom Mariner 01] (27 page)

Yawning, Anna was overcome by a sudden, unexpected wave of fatigue and, glancing up at the clock, saw with a shock that it was twenty past eleven. The flat seemed unnaturally quiet. Jamie! Jamie? He was sprawled on the floor, having fallen asleep where he sat, still clutching a video box. The tape had come to an end, leaving the TV scrolling scratchy horizontal lines, as fuddled as Anna’s brain felt right now. Pinozalyan would have to keep until tomorrow.

It might be time to pay Dr Payne another visit, to see if he could enlighten her.

For a moment, Anna considered whether to wake Jamie and put him properly to bed, but decided against it and instead tucked a pillow under his head and arranged his duvet around him. He’d be awake soon enough anyway.

She was right. Woken at six thirty by Jamie poking a video in her face and tugging at her arm, Anna groaned. What wouldn’t she give for a good night’s sleep? Driving Jamie in to the centre, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of exhaustion and despondency. Where was all this leading? In the cold light of day Manor House seemed an impossible proposition, too. It was enormously expensive and, despite what Simon Meadows had said, they did employ drug therapy, which her parents would have disapproved of, and on top of that it would mean taking Jamie away from the day centre, at least for some of the time, when the thing he needed most of all was consistency.

As a matter of interest, Anna asked Francine about any other clients at the centre who were taking medication.

Francine knew of at least two who were on Ritalin and another who took Impramine, but she hadn’t heard of Pinozalyan either. ‘Could be something new,’ she suggested. They’re always trying things out.

Anna tried to contact Professor Fellowes, but was told by his secretary that he was lecturing in London and couldn’t be reached.

She waited until mid-morning before going to the surgery in the hope that the morning rush would be over. Even so, there were still half a dozen people waiting to see Dr Payne or one of his partners.

The doctor seemed surprised to see Anna again so soon.

‘Is everything all right with Jamie?’

‘Yes, he’s fine,’ Anna reassured him. ‘Although it is about him that I’ve called.’ Anna explained about her visits to the two homes and the references to medication. ‘The one Eddie seemed to have been focused on is called Pinozalyan. Have you heard of it?’

Dr Payne frowned and shook his head doubtfully, ‘No. I can’t say I have.’ But there was something else on his mind. ‘Are you sure this is the right thing to be doing Anna?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘Considering medication for Jamie. Many of these drugs haven’t had time for the long-term effects to be known, and may lead to problems with dependency and side effects.’ So he felt that way too. ‘Your parents and I discussed it at length over several years and I know that neither of them wanted to put Jamie at any kind of risk. Naturally it’s your own decision, but…’

But. Always a but. Just when she looked as if her life was back within grasp, something swung by to knock it out again. She left the surgery despondent and depressed.

On top of that, she had to go into the office today. There was a mountain of post waiting for her, but seeing Becky provided an immediate distraction. ‘Is Mark at work today?’

‘I hope so,’ said Becky. ‘Unless he’s swanned off somewhere for some secret passionate affair he hasn’t told me about.’

‘Do you think I could phone him for some information?’

‘He’d love it. He’s always had a soft spot for you.’

‘He can keep his soft spots to himself. I just want to talk to him.’

Becky reeled off the number of Mark’s surgery. She seemed edgy and Anna soon found out why.

There was a knock on the door. It was Jonathan, looking astonishingly naked. He’d shaved off his goatee. ‘Anna, how are you?’

Any cooler and Anna would have shivered. ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she responded, icily. Two can play at that game.

‘Well, it’s good to see you back again.’ His voice lacked a certain sincerity, but he was gone again before Anna could allude to this.

‘What happened to the facial hair?’ she asked Becky instead.

Her friend had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Melanie doesn’t like goatees.’

‘Well, that puts me in my place then, doesn’t it?’ said Anna, cheerfully.

Alone again in her office, Anna ignored her bulging in tray and keyed in the number Becky had given her. ‘Hi Mark, it’s Anna.’

‘Anna, how are you? Has Becky got you checking up on me?’

‘No, you’re perfectly safe. I wanted to pick your brains on something.’

‘Pick away.’

‘I wondered if you’d ever come across of a drug called Pinozalyan? I think it could be something used in the treatment of autism.’

‘Pinozalyan? Can you spell that for me?’ Anna did.

There was a pause at the other end of the line, while Mark considered. ‘No, I can’t say that I have Anna, but then there are thousands of drugs marketed every year. It’s impossible to keep on top of them all. I can look it up on the database for you though, if it’s important.’

‘It is Mark. That would be great.’

More helpful than Dr Payne had been, but then, he might not have a surgery full of people waiting. And there was a rider. ‘Okay, leave it with me, but I may not get back to you until later in the day, I’m just about to start my rounds.’

No problem. To while away some time, Anna sorted through her pile of urgent phone messages and e-mails. She responded to a few and wrote some memos, but by the middle of the afternoon she’d had enough. Today she wanted to do the grocery shopping before fetching Jamie.

The first thing Anna noticed as she and Jamie entered her flat was that the bin had moved. She was sure she hadn’t left it like that, standing away from the wall. It was a feeling, nothing more, that someone had been in there while she was out. Jamie was oblivious, making a beeline for the now dog-eared Ikea catalogue, squatting on his usual spot on the floor and flicking through the pages. But, after stowing the shopping, Anna found that she couldn’t relax. She checked her answer phone. No new messages.

For a while she paced, undecided, before eventually trying Mariner’s number. As she waited for someone at the other end of the line to locate Mariner, she had a tidy up. As usual, this entailed gathering up far too much, and Eddie’s package, balanced as it was precariously at the top of the pile, slid off with a crash, scattering the contents.

‘Bugger!’

‘Everything all right madam?’ asked the voice at the other end.

‘Yes, thanks. I just dropped something.’

‘I’m sorry, we can’t seem to track down Inspector Mariner. Would you like to leave a message?’

Yes, would you tell him that someone has broken into my flat and moved my bin? Suddenly Anna felt foolish.

‘No, it’s okay,’ she said out loud. ‘There’s no message.’

She hung up the phone, regretting the call already. She was being totally paranoid, and about what?

As Anna turned over the empty folder to replace the papers, she caught her finger on something raised just inside the flap. She looked more closely. Something had been taped to the underside. It was a small, slim envelope. She pulled it off. Inside the envelope was an even smaller, flat black plastic square; a floppy disk. Eddie had posted her his computer files. So what was all this about? Slamming Carol Vorderman into the VCR yet again, to keep Jamie occupied, Anna grabbed her laptop and plugged it in.

She loaded the disk into the drive. Double click.

Windows Explorer, 3.5 in Floppy. She double-clicked the icon and a dialogue box appeared inviting her to enter the password. Anna attempted to override it, but it wouldn’t let her through. She tried to cancel, but the screen returned to Explorer. Damn! This time Eddie had been a mite too clever. She took the disk out to examine it, but the label was blank, naturally. Not much point in having a secret password then advertising it all over the packaging. Okay, she’d have to think of the password. It should be simple.

Only fifty thousand words in the English language to choose from, and that was always supposing Eddie hadn’t strayed into French, German or Esperanto. She began with the obvious, family names: Eddie/Edward, Jamie/James, Anna, Malcolm, Susan, Mum, Dad. Nothing. Tried them in upper case and lower case, with and without initial capitals.

Zilch. The phone rang.

It was Mariner. ‘You wanted to speak to me?’

Anna felt foolish. Her feelings of anxiety had long gone, and she was convinced now that her imagination had just gone into overdrive. ‘It was nothing,’ she said. ‘I thought someone had been in my flat.’

‘Has anything been taken?’ He was treating it more seriously than was necessary.

‘No, I was being ridiculous. Just pure paranoia. I keep forgetting that Jamie’s here with me and he moves things.’

‘Oh, well, I’m glad you’re okay.’ He was signing off.

‘I’ve found something else that you might be interested in though,’ Anna said, quickly. ‘Eddie sent me a parcel. He must have posted it just before he died, but it got delayed and didn’t arrive until yesterday. At first I thought it just contained papers, information about medications. I didn’t think it was important.’

‘But?’

‘I’ve just found a floppy disk, too. It was taped to the inside of the envelope, out of sight.’

‘Eddie’s files?’ Mariner audibly perked up.

‘I don’t know yet. The bad news is that it’s password protected and of course I don’t have the password. I’m trying to get into it right now.’

There was a pause at the other end of the line. ‘Kerry helped us to compile some e-fits of the men who were in Eddie’s house that night. I’d like you and Jamie to have a look. How about if I bring them by?’

‘Okay.’

‘Now?’

‘Why not?’

Eager to have something to show him when he arrived, Anna took her efforts wider, trawling her brain for any minor detail about Eddie that might hold the key. She knew he had once supported Aston Villa, but did he have a favourite player? What was his favourite food, drink, colour, movie, book? She hadn’t a clue. This was the payback for hardly knowing your big brother. She typed in Post, Mail, Greencote, Countdown…

Anna became aware of Jamie hovering at her elbow.

‘Want a loops.’

‘In a minute,’ Anna said, distracted.

‘Want loops, get a loops,’ he repeated, tugging at her sleeve.

‘In a minute Jamie,’ she shrugged him off impatiently.

‘This is hopeless,’ Jamie mirrored her exasperation. ‘Loops!’ he insisted grabbing at her arm.

‘Oh! You and your bloody…!’ Anna banged on the keys irritably, ‘Hu-la-Ho-ops.’ And the screen unfurled in front of her.

‘Oh my God, Jamie, you’re a genius!’ Without thinking, she put out her arms to hug him. He backed away in alarm, fearful of the sudden contact, making Anna laugh. ‘You can have all the Hula Hoops you like.’

The intercom buzzer sounded, and Anna let in a worried looking Mariner. ‘Sure you’re all right?’ he asked.

For a moment, Anna didn’t know what he meant. Then she remembered the bin. ‘Oh, yes, I’m fine. Going a bit nuts, but fine.’

‘Good.’ He was examining the door. ‘How do you lock this when you go out?’

‘On the Yale.’

‘Maybe you should consider using the mortise, too.’

‘Yes, Inspector,’ Anna said meekly.

Mariner smiled. ‘Okay. Here ends the Mariner lecture for today. Call it compensation for the fact that our enquiries seem to have hit a brick wall. Frank Crosby has got a solid alibi for the night Eddie was killed. So unless there are some other unknown heavies doing his dirty work, it looks as if Kerry was telling the truth and Frank wasn’t involved. It leaves us pretty well back at square one.’

‘Not quite,’ Anna said.

‘What?’ ,

‘I’ve found the password to Eddie’s disk. Jamie s obsession with Hula Hoops finally paid off.’

‘I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that,’ Mariner said. ‘Have you found anything interesting?’

‘Not yet. You’re just in time to help me look.’ Mariner dragged a chair round to Anna’s side of the table so that they could both look at the screen. As he did so, his arm brushed against hers, making her skin tingle. Focus, Anna, focus, she told herself sternly. With a curiously wobbly hand, she opened up the disk. It contained a single document.

MS Access. Untitled.

‘Eddie and his databases,’ commented Mariner, shaking his head. ‘He had them for everything.’

Anna double-clicked the icon and rows of data unfurled on the screen before them.

‘It’s the same document as we found,’ Mariner observed straight away.

‘Except that now we’ve got all the data as well,’ said Anna, hopefully, examining around thirty rows and five complete columns containing an assortment of numbers and letters.

‘If that makes a difference,’ he said, with obvious disappointment.

‘Unfortunately there are still no headings to any of the fields, so we don’t know what any of the numbers relate to.’ Without any indication of what the digits represented, the database told them nothing. ‘We’re no further on.’

But Anna was staring at one of the columns. ‘We might be,’ she said. ‘I think it’s got Jamie on it.’

‘Jamie?’

Jamie looked around momentarily from where he lay on the floor in the lounge.

‘Look,’ she pointed to one of the dates. ‘Seventeenth of March 1970. That’s Jamie’s date of birth. It didn’t mean anything when I saw this the first time, but since then I’ve had to memorise it.’

‘It’s just a date,’ Mariner was less sure. ‘That could just be a fluke.’

‘No, look at the initials.’ Anna traced a finger back along the row. ‘JB, Jamie Barham, and there in the first column, SB, Susan Barham, that’s my mum. That’s got to be more than chance, surely?’ Anna shuddered. This was creepy.

Mariner remained sceptical. ‘Anyone else you recognise?’ he asked, dubiously.

Anna studied the column of letters, her mind now moving along a completely different track. AR, DM, CJ, ET, she mulled over each set of initials, searching for a link. ‘It’s a long shot, but that could be Liz—Elizabeth Trueman. I hadn’t seen her for years, but she came to Eddie’s funeral. And that’s their son, Michael.’ She indicated the MT, further along the row. ‘They live in Sutton now but our families were close when we were kids, you know? We used to go and visit them. They had this massive copper beech tree in the garden that Jamie once fell out of.’