Written in Blood (2 page)

‘You’ve even got an autographed one.’ She flipped open the cover displaying an illegible scrawl. ‘He came in for a signing in November and we had some left over.’

‘So you met Ryland?’ Mariner pulled his credit card from his wallet.

‘Yes.’

‘And did you think he was?’ Mariner asked, as they waited for the transaction to process.

The girl had a great line in vacant expressions. ‘Was what?’

‘One of the good guys.’

She shrugged. ‘He was very nice. And his driver seemed to think a lot of him. He came out back for a fag. Ryland had got him out of prison, so he thought the old man was a hero.’

Mariner considered what he’d read about the recent shooting. Word was that the killings were down to the driver. Not a nice way to repay your hero.

Taking the bulging plastic carrier from the girl called Nikki, and feeling slightly as if he’d been conned, Mariner stepped away from the counter. A tingling sensation crept the length of his spine. Someone walking over his grave, except it was too warm for that. It was a feeling that he was being watched. He’d experienced the same phenomenon several times during the last few weeks, though he’d told no one about it. They’d have suggested therapy. He turned and looked around the shop. The handful of other customers either had their noses buried in books or were studying the shelves intently. He’d caught no one out. He put the feeling down to being tired. It was a long time since he’d had a holiday.

Mariner had arranged to meet Anna, along with DC Tony Knox, at the visiting Frankfurt market, and picked up the tail end of the colourful stalls on New Street. As he progressed deeper into the market the ambience subtly changed, the hard-nosed consumerism of the department stores giving way to a mellower side of Christmas. Under less pressure to buy, shoppers browsed the pastry and pottery stalls exchanging pleasantries, and the easy banter between the vendors created an atmosphere of genuine goodwill. This year there had been a clumsy effort by some local councillors to replace the market with a more patriotic English version but somehow Mariner couldn’t imagine hot dogs and burgers creating the same illusion. If he could only forget what he’d been doing all day.

The busiest stands were those grouped below the steps of the museum and art gallery, and offering a range of exotic refreshments. It was here that Mariner spied Tony Knox, beneath one of the food bar parasols, his arms wrapped round a woman; the latest girlfriend they’d heard so much about. Selina, if his recall was accurate. There had been so many now since Knox’s wife had left him that Mariner couldn’t be sure. The pulling power of the middle-aged divorcé remained one of life’s mysteries.

‘All right, Boss?’ Knox asked as Mariner arrived at his side. The two men shook hands and Knox disentangled himself. ‘This is Selina,’ he said without ceremony. ‘Selina: DI Tom Mariner.’

First impressions were that this girl’s model good looks carbon copied her predecessors; Knox continuing his quest for the antithesis to his ex. Slim and leggy in jeans and sheepskin bomber jacket, Selina’s hair was pinned up in an explosion of lethal blond spikes, and the total look was straight off a page of the glossies. But the smile, it was pure mischief. ‘The boss,’ she grinned, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching. ‘I’ve heard all about
you
.’ The stress on that last word implied that it was rather more than Mariner would have liked, but at the same time he couldn’t help warming to Selina.

‘You too,’ he said, automatically. ‘Tony said you’re an accountant?’ As the snippet of information came back to him Mariner struggled momentarily to square the image with the occupation.

‘For my sins,’ Selina said, reading his face. ‘We’re not all fat and balding in a suit, you know.’

‘So I see.’

‘She’s also a Blues supporter,’ Knox put in. ‘So I wouldn’t go getting too friendly.’

‘Nobody’s perfect,’ Mariner conceded, with a shrug.

Knox passed him a mug of steaming
Glühwein.
‘Dutch courage,’ he said. ‘Or should that be German courage? I thought you might need it.’ He raised his own mug, slipping an arm around Selina and drawing her closer. ‘
Prost
.’

‘
Prost
.’

‘
Prost
.’ The mugs clinked together. ‘As long as I don’t end up slurring my words,’ said Mariner. ‘Might not look good.’ But at the same time he was trying to ignore the growing flutter of butterfly wings in his stomach. Standing up in front of the Chief Constable and other luminaries, along with a hundred or so of his colleagues, wasn’t something he was often asked to do, even if tonight he would only be reading from ‘The Gospel According to St Luke’.

It said something for the heathens at the Granville Lane OCU that it was Mariner, lifelong agnostic, who was representing them by doing a reading at the force carol service, though his participation came only as a result of having his arm twisted up his back by Jack Coleman. ‘It shouldn’t even be me who’s doing it,’ he grumbled, with feeling. ‘The job should have gone to a good Catholic boy.’

‘Lapsed Catholic,’ Knox reminded him. ‘And I was never a contender. The Brummie masses wouldn’t understand a word I said.’ And to demonstrate, he thickened his scouse accent to a series of gutteral spasms.

They heard Anna before they saw her, cheerfully apologising her way through what was becoming a tightly packed crowd. The soft light accentuated the paleness of her skin and brought out the copper tones of her shoulder- length hair. Watching her progress, eliciting smiles and good-natured teasing from those around her, Mariner was reminded what a lucky bugger he was. He’d been feeling pretty virtuous about his purchases, but Anna appeared to have bought out Toys ’R’ Us single handed.

‘Doing your bit for the national economy?’ Knox joked, relieving her of two enormous carrier bags and stacking them out of the way. ‘I’ll get you a drink.’

‘Thanks, Tony.’ Stretching up, Anna planted a kiss on Mariner. ‘It’s just a few bits and pieces.’

‘Can’t guess who they’re for,’ Mariner said.

‘Tony didn’t tell me you had children,’ Selina said.

‘Anna, this is Selina.’ Mariner took his cue.

‘Hi.’ Anna mirrored the smile. ‘We haven’t yet, but sometime soon.’

Her words triggered a bubble of anxiety in Mariner’s stomach. He wished she wouldn’t talk as if it were a done deal, when they’d only just started thinking about the pros and cons. It was a big shift for both of them and he, at least, was still getting used to the idea.

When he’d first met her, kids were the last thing Anna wanted; she had a successful career and a severely autistic brother, a combination guaranteed to dampen the strongest maternal instincts. But during the last year events had conspired to change her mind. Two months ago Jamie had moved into a hostel for independent living, and was doing just that, leaving Anna with time and energy on her hands. Concurrently, Anna’s best friend Becky had produced baby daughter Megan, waking Anna to the fact that time might for her be running out, and from then on babies had insidiously crept into everyday conversation. Gradually, without lengthy overt discussion, children had moved from being out of the question, to a possibility and more recently a probability.

For his own part, Mariner had never been so much opposed to children as ignorant of them. His mother, his only close blood relative, had passed away last year, leaving him practically alone in the world, but for a few distant cousins he’d never met. He and Anna had something good together, so in many ways children seemed like the next natural step. It was only after he’d agreed to consider it that the doubts had begun, and Anna had been so euphoric these last few weeks that now he couldn’t bear to spoil it for her.

‘You’re jumping the gun,’ he cautioned. ‘We haven’t had the appointment through yet.’

Anna caught Selina’s expression. ‘My brother is autistic, ’ she explained. ‘So we’re being referred to a counsellor.’ It had been Mariner’s suggestion, partly to test out how serious she was. ‘There are known genetic links so there’s always the chance that our child could have a degree of autism.’

‘Better to be safe,’ Selina agreed.

‘Not that it’ll make a scrap of difference,’ Mariner said. ‘Once Anna’s made up her mind about something—’

‘We’d need to be prepared for what might happen,’ Anna said, dodging the issue. ‘Meanwhile the gifts are for my goddaughter, Megan. She’s my substitute child, and it’s her first Christmas so she has to be spoilt rotten.’

‘How old is she?’

‘Four months, and I just can’t get enough of her.’

‘Well, I can’t recommend it too highly,’ Selina enthused. ‘I’ve got a three-month-old.’

Anna must have been as floored as Mariner, because suddenly they were in the midst of an awkward silence. Knox hadn’t mentioned this. His own kids were adults themselves now, and he’d always expressed huge relief that he’d put the nappy-changing and the sleepless nights behind him long ago. And what kind of woman leaves her three-month-old baby at home to go out dating?

Selina laughed, a brilliant peal of uninhibited joy. ‘You should see your faces,’ she giggled. ‘You can relax. My baby’s of the canine variety,’ she said. ‘A chocolate Labrador is something less of a commitment.’ So she had a sense of humour, too.

‘You must still have your hands full,’ said Anna, as Knox returned and passed round fresh drinks.

‘I have to admit life will be easier once he’s stopped piddling on the floor and chewing my tights.’

‘She didn’t mean Tony, she meant the puppy,’ shot back Mariner.

Selina shook her head sadly. ‘I know, but the dog’s very impressionable. It copies everything he does.’

‘Hilarious.’ Knox didn’t share their amusement. ‘You two should try a spot at the Glee Club.’

Mariner and Selina exchanged a complicit smile. This was going to be fun. Not since his separation had Tony Knox been out with someone Mariner could so instantly relate to.

After the warming drinks, they queued for burgers with herb-fried potatoes, finding themselves a quiet corner to eat from the flimsy paper plates. The food smelt and tasted delicious but somehow the image - brown, moist and indistinct - deadened Mariner’s appetite.

Knox saw the hesitation. ‘Brings back memories, does it, Boss?’ he asked. ‘Charlie Glover told me you’d been knee deep in shit all morning.’

‘Thanks,’ said Mariner, throwing Selina and Anna an apologetic look. ‘One of life’s less pleasurable experiences. ’ Mariner put down his plate untouched.

‘You not eating that?’ asked Knox, helping himself.

The two women were watching Mariner expectantly.

‘You don’t want to know,’ he said.

‘Yes we do.’

‘We have to now.’

Mariner sighed, all his earlier efforts undone. ‘Workmen found a blockage down one of the main sewers in Stirchley. It turned out to be the body of a woman, wrapped in bin liners and bound with duct tape. We had to go down there to check it out
in situ
.’ He saw Anna’s grimace. ‘There, aren’t you glad I told you?’

‘I hope you’ve showered since.’

‘Have you got an ID?’ Knox asked, garlic wafting Mariner’s way.

‘Not yet. But we’ve got a good set of prints from her, so Charlie Glover’s trawling through Missing Persons. Otherwise we have to hope she’s committed a crime that’s put her on CRIMINT. Whoever put her down the drain didn’t count on her being found.’ In the time Mariner had been speaking Knox had polished off both portions of food.

‘We should go, shouldn’t we?’ said Selina, taking the used plates and depositing them in a nearby bin.

‘Yeah, not all of us have the luxury of reserved seats.’

‘Not all of us have got to stand up and make pillocks of ourselves,’ countered Mariner.

‘You’ll be wonderful dahling.’ To Mariner’s surprise Selina grasped his arms, giving him a Hollywood-style peck on each cheek.

‘I’m flattered by your confidence,’ said Mariner.

Anna was scanning the stalls around them. ‘Before we go, I want to get one of those little springy puppets for Megan,’ she said.

Mariner glanced at the carrier bags. ‘Ah yes, because she hasn’t got enough.’

‘We’ll see you down there, then,’ said Selina, and, taking Knox’s arm, she steered him down towards the main street. ‘See you later,’ Knox said, over his shoulder. His arm snaked around Selina, fusing their bodies as one.

‘Do you think it’s the real thing this time?’ Mariner said, watching them go.

‘She’s lasted longer than any of the others. And Tony can’t keep his hands off her.’

‘She’s a bright girl, too. I don’t know how he does it.’

‘Confidence,’ said Anna. ‘Women find it irresistible.’

‘Including you?’

Anna shook her head. ‘Nah. I just have a weak spot for the underdog.’

‘Thanks.’

 

‘We could have waited for them,’ said Knox, mildly. ‘We’ve got loads of time, and it won’t be a full house.’ He and Selina were crossing Corporation Street on their way to St Martin’s.

Selina cuddled up closer. ‘I wanted you to myself for a bit. I still don’t understand why we’re spending the evening in a dreary church when we could be at home making our own entertainment.’

‘I’m showing a bit of solidarity,’ Knox said. He’d explained all this before.

‘But he’s your boss. Isn’t it a bit strange, to be socialising with him?’

‘He’s been a good mate, too.’

‘Was he friends with Theresa?’

‘Not friends, exactly. He knew her, that’s all.’

‘Well, once they’ve got a family they’ll have their hands full.’ And seemingly satisfied with her own resolution of whatever the issue was, she squeezed him even tighter.

 

There was no such intimacy for Mariner and Anna when they followed some time later, bearing the bulky carrier bags. They had to settle for an awkward linking of arms, the baby paraphernalia keeping them apart.