Killer Lies (Reissue)

by Chris Collett

  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 and 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 cosy.

  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 prickling 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 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 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 surge 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 felt able, he got 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,’ said Mariner.

  ‘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,’ said Anna. ‘We’re going to start 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,’ said Anna. 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,’ she said, holding his gaze. ‘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 anymore.’

  ‘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?’ She sounded sad, not angry, just sad.

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

  ‘Are you coming back in?’ she asked.

  ‘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 have a walk?’ She suggested. ‘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 swift exit from the room. Outside in the fresh air it still seemed 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 clear his head and help him to work out the detail. The more concrete evidence he could present 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 but 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. Pulling up outside the cottage he began to feel more optimistic than he had in weeks. Maybe tonight he’d take Anna out for dinner. They could clear the air and start again. Buoyed up by positive feelings, he made it as far as his front door when everything went black.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Later that 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 so much for your help,’ said Anna. ‘I’m sure your input helped to sway the decision.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. You present a pretty good argument yourself. 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 beh
aviour, I wouldn’t discount post-traumatic stress disorder,’ said Gareth. ‘He sounds like a textbook case. He should think about getting some help, especially if his actions become more extreme.’

  ‘More extreme? Like how?’

  ‘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 make him feel better.

  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 both eaten, but now she put it down to nerves. She couldn’t wait to tell Tom about the favourable outcome 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 her head 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 landline. 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. It was switched off 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 DS Knox, please?’ Knox came on the line almost immediately. ‘Tony, have you seen Tom?’

  ‘Not for a few days, why?’ said Knox. ‘I thought he’d gone to the meeting with you.’

  ‘He left on his own yesterday afternoon,’ Anna told him. ‘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 his 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 would have 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 eight 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 any of these people. It was as if Mariner had generated 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 carabiner. What the hell were they doing there? Where could Mariner possibly have gone that he didn’t need any 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 wouldn’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 up-market health spa for the rich and famous. It’s on the web if you want to have a look,’ Baxter reeled off 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 DS Tony Knox, a colleague of his. Tom 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,’ said Baxter. ‘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.

  ‘What’s going on, Tony?’

  Knox kept his tone light. ‘I can’t be certain yet. I just want to check out a couple of things.’

  Then he went back to the station and, as Charlie Glover wasn’t around, knocked on DCI Coleman’s door. ‘It’s Tom Mariner, sir. Was he due down at the CPS again today?’

  ‘No,’ said Coleman. ‘There’s no need. Things are finally moving.’

  ‘Well, this may be nothing at all but I can’t find him.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, would it,’ said Coleman. ‘Since when?’

  ‘Anna last saw him yesterday afternoon, said he was going back to his place. I’ve been there and his car is there but there’s no sign of him. I found these in a drawer.’ He put the keys and the phone on Coleman’s desk. ‘But there’s not much to show that he’s even been there. Goes without saying that we’ve all been a bit concerned about him since—’

  Coleman’s PA knocked on the door. ‘Anna Barham’s here, sir.’

  ‘Show her in.’

  Anna Barham looked pale. ‘Are you all right?’ Coleman asked, urging her to a chair. ‘Would you like tea or coffee?’

  She looked as if she was going to throw up. ‘No, I’m fine, really.’

  ‘So where are we up to?’

  ‘Tom came to Jamie’s case conference yesterday,’ Anna said. ‘But he wasn’t himself. He left early, quite abruptly really, before the end. He said he needed some air,’ she said. ‘I suggested he should go for a walk.’

  ‘Was he in the car?’

  ‘Yes, he’d found it difficult to park, it made him late.’

  ‘So he must have driven home again, but his boots were still in the hall,’ said Knox.

  ‘He left the meeting in suit and work shoes. He wouldn’t go for a walk dressed like—’ Seeing the items on the desk she broke off. ‘Those are his keys and phone. Where did you find them?’

  ‘In the hall cupboard.’

  ‘But that doe
sn’t make any sense,’ said Anna. ‘He wouldn’t go anywhere without those.’

  ‘Maybe he wasn’t planning to go far, just along the canal,’ Coleman suggested.

  ‘Locking himself out?’

  Knox shared her concern, though he couldn’t tell whether Anna had worked out the one obvious reason why Mariner might have gone out without taking his keys. ‘I took a call on his mobile while I was there,’ he said, before she had the chance. Picking up the phone he retrieved Baxter’s number. ‘You know a guy called Mike Baxter? He wanted to talk to Tom about an adoption agency.’

  ‘Have you two been discussing adoption?’ Coleman asked.

  ‘It came up when we went to see the genetic counsellor, but I wouldn’t say we discussed it in any depth. Right now Tom’s rather sensitive about the subject of children. In fact things have been pretty tense between us just lately, what with the uncertainty over Jamie.’ She looked guilty. ‘I’ve probably been putting him under pressure too, about moving to the country.’

  ‘Throw another log on the fire,’ said Knox. ‘On top of the bomb and his dad, he must be reeling.’

  ‘His dad?’ Anna was staring at him. ‘What do you mean, Tony?’ she said uncertainly. ‘Tom doesn’t know anything about his dad.’

  At that moment Knox would have given anything to rewind the last thirty seconds. ‘Oh crap, he hasn’t told you.’

  ‘Told me what?’

  Knox hesitated.

  ‘Talk to us, Tony,’ Jack Coleman ordered.

  Knox shook his head, helplessly. ‘This shouldn’t be coming from me.’ But having opened his big gob, it was too late. ‘The DI knows who his father was. It was what his mate Dave Flynn came up here to tell him back in December. Flynn found out by accident while working on an investigation.’ Anna and Coleman’s wide eyed reactions couldn’t have been better synchronised. It didn’t surprise Knox that Coleman didn’t know, but he couldn’t believe that Mariner still hadn’t told Anna. He glanced towards her. ‘I know the boss was trying to find the right time to tell you. I assumed that by now he would have—’