Written in Blood (34 page)

At Anna’s empty house he showered and put on a clean suit, which, though a marginal improvement, also made him late. As he dressed he put a call through to Mike Baxter. It was early, so the office was closed, but he left a message on the answering machine, asking Baxter to find out what he could about a retreat called Our Lady of Lourdes.

Anna had left a curt note on the kitchen table; details of the venue. Next up Mariner couldn’t get parking outside the busy social services offices, so the meeting was well under way when he arrived, sweating and breathless, his stomach gurgling ominously. Everyone turned as he went in, there seemed to be dozens of faces. Mariner recognised Jamie’s social worker, Louise from the hostel, Jamie’s new GP, but there was a man sitting next to Anna he hadn’t seen before. He and Anna had their heads together, smiling about a shared joke and looking very friendly.

Murmuring apologies to the room in general Mariner took the seat on the other side of Anna, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze, but all the time under the impression that he was intruding on something.

‘This is Gareth,’ Anna whispered. ‘He’s a friend of Mark’s. He recommended the Towyn Farm Community. Are you all right?’

‘A bit tired, that’s all.’ In truth Mariner felt terrible. The lights were too bright and the room stifling, but as none of the other men had taken off their jackets, Mariner felt inhibited from doing so too. He could feel the perspiration running down his back.

Jamie’s social worker from Manor Park was setting out the options. ‘We could do a gradual settling back in at the hostel, but Jamie would need increased supervision.’

‘How long would that take?’ Anna asked.

‘We could perhaps start with Saturdays and then after a few weeks we could try an overnight and slowly build up from there.’

‘That could take weeks, months even.’

‘We could speed things up if Jamie does well.’

‘And if he doesn’t?’ Anna shot back. ‘None of this was his fault in the first place. He’s done nothing wrong.’

‘Another option would be for you to have additional support for Jamie at home,’ the social worker suggested.

Yes, and how long would that last? Wondered Mariner.

‘We have a third option,’ Anna said, rather too quickly. She introduced Gareth to the group, and he proceeded to give the Towyn Farm Community the hard sell. What he didn’t talk about was the cost, but presumably Anna had already worked out the financial implications.

‘I’ll talk about funding in a moment,’ Gareth said, but Mariner hardly heard anything else because suddenly the discussion had faded into nothing more than background noise. Out of nowhere it had come to him, the identity of the person responsible for blackmailing and killing Sir Geoffrey Ryland. The revelation brought with it a rush of adrenalin so powerful that a numbing sensation began to creep up from his neck that he recognised as the precursor to fainting. ‘Excuse me,’ he gasped before stumbling out of the room.

In the gents he squatted on the floor, ducking his head between his knees until gradually everything began to return to normal. When he could, he stood up and splashed cold water on his face. Anna was waiting for him outside. ‘We’ve taken a break for half an hour. Are you all right?’

‘I’ve felt better.’

‘Let’s get a coffee and something to eat. Maybe you should see a doctor.’

‘Like Doctor Gareth, you mean? You two seem very thick.’

‘Oh great, we’re going through this again, are we?’

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me he’s gay too.’

‘Recently divorced actually. He’s been very helpful, and he’s good fun.’ Everything Mariner was not.

‘Well I hope you’ll be very happy.’

Anna ignored him. ‘Towyn would be very good for Jamie. It’s got what the hostel hasn’t: open space. That’s what he misses. That and people who will make him feel welcome.’

Mariner couldn’t argue with that. ‘And if he goes there?’

‘I’d like to move out there too.’ It was what he didn’t want to hear. ‘I’d like us to do it together, but of course that would have to be your decision.’

‘And if I said no?’ Mariner’s head was throbbing. He should stop this now, but he couldn’t.

‘I would go anyway. I’ve thought a lot about this. If I’m to have any kind of life I need Jamie to be happy and settled. My first duty is to him.’

She’d come a long way. When she and Mariner had first met, Anna was an independent woman who had no intention of taking responsibility for her younger brother.

‘You could visit from here,’ Mariner suggested weakly.

She shook her head. ‘Not in the long term. It’s too far.

Besides, it’s not only about Jamie. I want to move away from the city. I don’t feel safe here any more.’

‘You think Hitler’s got a few more surprises up his sleeve?’

‘It could so easily have been a terrorist bomb, you know that.’

‘I thought we had a future together,’ Mariner said without conviction.

‘So did I, but something’s happened to us hasn’t it? The bomb has played its part, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?’

He could have told her then. The timing wasn’t brilliant. He was fast learning that it never would be. But again the words stuck in his throat. ‘Yes,’ he said, lamely. ‘It is.’

‘Are you coming back in?’

‘You seem to be doing all right on your own. I still feel a bit sick.’ A good excuse for running away.

‘Why don’t you get some fresh air? I’ll meet you at home later.’

‘You sure?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

What had he done to deserve her? Even when he was behaving like a shit she was nice to him. It just made him feel worse.

Walking back to his car, Mariner remembered what had precipitated his exit from the room. Outside, with a clear head, it was still viable. In his car he put through a call to Dave Flynn, but got only his voicemail. ‘Dave, I’ve another couple of questions, about those photos, and about the crime scene—’

By the time he’d finished his message the positive effects of the adrenalin had kicked in and he was firing on all cylinders. The more he thought about it, the more he realised it was the only answer. There was work to be done, but if he was right he’d cracked it.

The first thing he’d do was to follow Anna’s advice. Some outdoor exercise would help him to work out the detail. The more concrete evidence he could take to Flynn, the more seriously Flynn would have to take it. Mariner knew he was only a beat away from proving why Sir Geoffrey Ryland was killed and who had killed him. It had begun with blackmail, Mariner was sure about that, and now he had figured out the motive. The only thing he didn’t have was the identity of the blackmailer, but the motive gave him a place to look, and if he could come up with a name then there would be no option other than to re-examine the case. And that was all he wanted.

He’d go home and get his boots, have an hour up at Waseley Country Park, then go back to Anna’s. Maybe tonight he’d take her out for dinner and she could tell him what was going on with Jamie, and he could tell her what was going on with him. They could start building a few bridges. Buoyed up by positive feelings, Mariner made it as far as his front door when everything went black.

 

 

Later in the afternoon Anna left the case conference exhilarated. She’d got the outcome she wanted; agreement from the professionals that Towyn would be the best place for Jamie, and an undertaking that Social Care would help to subsidise his placement there. Their contribution wouldn’t be a lot but it would help.

‘I need to get back,’ said Gareth. ‘Congratulations.’ They were standing on the steps of the social services offices.

‘Thanks, and thanks for your help. I’m sure your input helped to sway the decision.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. You present a pretty good argument. I’ll look forward to seeing more of both of you when Jamie makes the move. And I hope Tom’s okay.’

‘He will be, I’m sure.’

‘After what you’ve told me about his recent behaviour I wouldn’t discount post traumatic stress disorder. He sounds like a textbook case. He should think about getting some help, especially if his actions become more extreme.’

‘Like what?’

‘The mood swings, any aggressive outbursts.’

‘I’ll talk to him.’ But Anna knew that counselling would be out of the question for Tom. He didn’t believe in it.

Allowing him space and not asking too many questions was the best thing she could do for him right now.

Anna got back home at six in the evening and Jamie was dropped off shortly afterwards. She was disappointed that Tom hadn’t yet returned, but his walk had doubtless taken him to a pub, guaranteed to put him in a better frame of mind.

The nausea that she’d been suffering all day had finally subsided. Seeing Tom in that state this morning, she’d wondered if it was something they’d eaten, but now she put it down to nerves. She couldn’t wait to tell Tom about the favourable result of the case conference, and about the plans she had, but she’d have to take it slowly. PTSD or not, he had a lot on his mind.

It had been a long and exhausting day for Jamie too and for once he went to bed at a reasonable time. Her head was so full that Anna didn’t think she could sleep, but she was away almost as soon as she lay down on the pillow.

 

When Anna woke at seven the next morning Jamie was still out cold and the bed beside her was empty. Tom would have gone to the cottage, where hopefully he’d be getting some sleep too. He was spending more time there at the moment than she would have liked but he’d once said that often he slept better there, so maybe it was as well. She waited until eight o’clock and then tried his land line. No reply. So the new lodger wasn’t around either. Tom had said that he hardly ever was. Money for old rope. She tried Mariner’s mobile. He didn’t answer and the disquiet which she had so easily rationalised the day before, returned.

Anna managed to get Jamie to the centre and tried phoning Mariner again when she got in to work. She phoned him at home but he wasn’t there and he wasn’t answering his mobile. Thinking she might have missed him, she tried Granville Lane but, according to the duty sergeant, Mariner hadn’t been seen there since Monday.

‘Can you put me through to DC Knox please?’ Knox came on the line almost immediately. ‘Tony have you seen Tom?’

‘Not for a few days. Why? I thought he’d gone to the meeting with you.’

‘He left on his own yesterday afternoon. We had rather a heated discussion, and he wasn’t feeling well. He said he wanted some air, which for him usually means a walk. But he hasn’t been in touch since and he’s not answering the phones. I’m back at work so I’m stuck. Can you try and track him down for me?’

‘Sure.’

Anna realised that she had little idea of what else Tom was working on at the moment. There was Madeleine of course, but she couldn’t be the only case. Usually he told her, but she’d been so wrapped up in what was happening to Jamie, and with Megan, that she’d barely noticed what was going on with Tom. And suddenly Gareth’s warning made her think. What if yesterday’s episode was symptomatic of something more serious? He’d seemed so dazed and out of it when he’d arrived. Suddenly she had an awful premonition and yesterday’s queasiness returned with such strength that she had to make a dash for the bathroom.

 

Knox found Mariner’s car parked outside a house that was locked and empty. He let himself in with the key he’d retained from when he’d temporarily lodged with Mariner a couple of years ago, but there was nothing to see. Significantly, Mariner’s boots were still in the hall. If the boss had gone for a walk he hadn’t bothered putting them on, which was lax considering the weather. The answer machine flashed with six new messages, most from Anna, urging Mariner to get in touch. But there were also calls from Dave Flynn, Mike Baxter and someone called Fliss, whoever she was, all of them asking him to return the call right away. Apart from Flynn, Knox had never heard of these people. It was as if Mariner had a whole other life that he knew nothing about.

As he stood there, Knox heard the muffled sound of a mobile. The only furniture in the narrow hall was a small chest of drawers that Knox knew, from his previous occupancy, was home to phone directories and whose surface was a deposit for post, loose change and other miscellany. He traced the ringing phone to the top drawer, where beside it lay a bunch of keys: those to Mariner’s house, what must be Anna’s house and the Volvo ignition key, all held together by an old and battered karabiner. What the hell were they doing there? Where could Mariner possibly have gone that he didn’t need his keys? The phone’s ringing became more insistent. Checking caller identity, the number wasn’t familiar to Knox, so out of curiosity, he took the call.

‘Tom, it’s Mike Baxter,’ said the caller.

‘Great,’ said Knox, hoping that the one word didn’t betray his accent.

‘Yeah, Our Lady of Lourdes took some tracking down. The building is still there, but it’s changed its name to Hollyfield Grange, and has become an upmarket health spa for the rich and famous. It’s on the web if you want to have a look,’ Baxter quoted a website address. ‘Up until thirty years ago it was a women’s retreat and adoption agency, run by the Catholic Church. The other branch of the organisation has moved and been scaled down a bit, but it still exists. Does that help at all?’

Knox knew that once he spoke more than a few words, he’d give himself away. Might as well own up now. ‘Actually this isn’t Tom Mariner,’ he confessed. ‘I’m DC Tony Knox, a colleague of his. The DI isn’t around at the moment but I’ll make sure he gets this information. Did he tell you what it was for?’

‘People rarely do, I just do the digging. Tell him I hope it helps anyway. And if there’s anything else—’

‘Sure. Thanks.’

Immediately Knox rang off he phoned Anna, asking her to meet him at Granville Lane.