‘Isn’t there one of those on Broad Street?’ queried Mariner.
‘There is. Shapasnikov enjoys life too. There are plenty of paparazzi shots featuring him escorting glamorous young models to various high-profile social events, and he owns a couple of racehorses.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t be a proper oligarch if there weren’t a few of those in the picture. I understand the weekend parties he holds out here are pretty big affairs.’
‘Maybe we should find out who’s on his guest lists,’ said Knox.
‘Not a bad idea,’ Mariner agreed. ‘Birmingham must seem a bit dead — forgive the expression — compared with all this.’
‘Not exactly,’ Knox said, grimly. ‘We’ve had our own brand of excitement while you’ve been away.’ He filled Mariner in on the dramatic events of Michael’s party.
‘Christ. So Charlie’s got a potential murder investigation on his hands. How’s he managing?’
‘He’s doing fine,’ said Knox. ‘There have been further developments at your place too, and not good ones.’ Knox told him about the ransacking. ‘Sorry. I’ve ID’d a suspect though; caught him in the act.’ Knox described the man at the cottage. ‘Does he sound like anyone you know?’
‘Apart from all the dozens of scrotes I’ve dealt with over the years? Not especially,’ said Mariner. ‘Have you talked to Kat?’
‘Not yet,’ Knox said. ‘I’ve been round to her flat but according to her neighbour she doesn’t go back there much.’
‘I think she spends most of her time with the “dog’s bollocks,”’ Mariner said gloomily.
‘You mean the fragrant Giles? Not jealous, are we?’
‘Of what — the youth, the looks or the money?’ Mariner snorted. ‘Why on earth would I be?’
‘She hasn’t been doing much work for Brasshouse lately either; they hadn’t seen her for a while.’
Mariner felt the first murmur of unease. ‘That I don’t understand. Kat loves her job.’
‘But maybe she doesn’t need it if Giles is keeping her,’ Knox suggested. ‘Doesn’t he earn big bucks?’
‘That’s not the point.’ Mariner frowned. ‘Kat wouldn’t want to be kept. You know what she’s like. After what she went through, her independence and freedom are sacrosanct to her. When’s the last time anyone saw her?’
‘A few days ago is what everyone’s saying.’
‘I don’t like it,’ said Mariner. ‘Goran Zjalic may have been put away for fifteen years, but he has some powerful friends.’ With Kat’s help, Mariner and his colleagues had successfully had the man responsible for the trafficking convicted and sentenced, but as they both knew, that was never the end of the story.
‘You think . . .?’
‘I had an odd experience driving out here after the funeral,’ said Mariner. ‘I thought I was being followed. Someone was too close on my tail, headlights on full beam, some kind of dark-coloured SUV. The other night there was another one, a hulking great black thing, hanging around in the lane opposite where I’m staying. It looked out of place. I mean, there are plenty of off-road vehicles, but not many are that shiny. What if Zjalic’s mates are after both me and Kat?’
Mariner’s question didn’t provoke the response he’d hoped for. He wanted Knox to dismiss the idea as far-fetched, but instead his sergeant was thoughtful. ‘There’s something else you should know about Nikolai Shapasnikov,’ he said, frowning. ‘He has business interests in Albania. I mean, they’re distant, but they are there all the same.’
‘Any names come up?’
‘None that I recognized.’
‘But if we’re saying he’s connected with what’s happening out here, I’ve never even met the man. How would he know about me?’ Mariner was struggling to piece it all together.
‘If this is about Zjalic, he could have been monitoring you for months,’ Knox pointed out. ‘You’ve been to Shapasnikov’s place, met his staff?’
‘Not his staff as such,’ Mariner said distractedly, thinking of Suzy Yin. Had she told Shapasnikov about him and where he was staying? ‘Or all this could be about someone trying to frame me for murder. They failed with Ashton so tried again with Bryce.’
As they were considering this, a knock on the door preceded DI Griffith. ‘The good news is that we’re going to let you go,’ he said. ‘Even if I thought you did kill Jeremy Bryce — which, for the record, I don’t — what we have so far is only circumstantial and not enough to bring charges. It will be best if you don’t leave the area just yet, though, and if you’d check in from time to time I’d appreciate it. You need to be careful too. If someone did kill Bryce instead of you by mistake, they might be tempted to have another go.’
‘There’s a comforting thought,’ said Mariner.
‘I wouldn’t go wandering off on your own just now,’ Griffith advised, unnecessarily.
‘This makes finding Kat a bit more urgent,’ Mariner said to Knox. ‘I’d feel happier if I knew where she was. I can’t quite see how, but if this should happen to be anything to do with Goran Zjalic, someone could be after her too.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
When Mariner was released, Tony Knox drove him back to Caranwy on his way back to Birmingham.
In the car Knox said, ‘I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with the outside world, boss, but do you know about this McGinley story?’
‘The murders in Liverpool?’ said Mariner. ‘That’s more your territory than mine.’
‘So the name McGinley doesn’t mean anything to you?’
‘Not that I can think of. Why?’
Knox emitted a derisive laugh. ‘Millie’s convinced that Glenn McGinley has come down here. She even started cooking up some tenuous link you might have had with him.’
‘What kind of link?’
‘An imaginary one probably,’ said Knox, playing it down. ‘Six degrees of Kevin Bacon, probably. You know, someone shared a cell with someone who shared a cell with someone who was on remand with . . . I wouldn’t get too worked up about it. Millie’s being a bit weird, but that’s about what you’d expect at the moment.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What with her being pregnant and all that,’ said Knox cheerfully. ‘Theresa was off the planet half the time, when she was expecting our two.’
‘Millie’s pregnant?’ said Mariner.
Knox shot him a look. ‘Oh shit, she hasn’t told you?’
‘Clearly not.’ Mariner thought back to that drive out to Upper Burwell. ‘I think she might have been on the verge though. But why has she kept it from me? It’s good news, isn’t it?’
‘For her, yes, but she wasn’t sure how you’d take it, after what happened to you and Anna, then Anna . . . you know.’
‘That’s why she didn’t tell me? Oh, come on, I haven’t been so bad, have I?’
Knox’s face said it all. ‘It’s called being sensitive,’ he said. ‘I think it’s a girl thing.’
‘So what will it mean?’ Mariner said.
Knox looked at him askance. ‘Well, it’ll be about nine months of her belly getting gradually bigger, and then, at the end, a baby,’ he said. ‘Did no one ever tell you . . .?’
Mariner managed a weak smile. ‘And what will it mean for her career, do you think?’
‘I don’t know. Maternity leave maybe, then pick up where she left off?’ While they’d been driving they’d taken up position behind a slow-moving tractor pulling a trailer of mud-caked turnips. ‘Come on!’ muttered Knox, in frustration.
‘And what does Suli think about that?’ Mariner asked, remembering that Millie’s husband was rather more of a traditionalist.
‘I’m not sure that they’ve discussed it yet. Anyway, talking of Anna,’ Knox said, carefully.
‘Which we weren’t,’ Mariner reminded him.
‘Well, whatever, you asked for this.’ Reaching into the glove compartment, one hand on the wheel, Knox passed Mariner a computer print-out of the Towyn Community address. ‘Are you planni
ng on going to see Jamie Barham?’
‘I feel somewhat obliged. Apparently now that Anna’s . . . no longer around, I’m his legal guardian.’
‘Christ almighty!’
‘Frankly? I wish he’d got the gig.’
‘Finally!’ Knox slapped the steering wheel, as the tractor turned into a side road. ‘Is there anything you want me to do?’
‘Nothing to be done as I understand it,’ said Mariner. ‘I’ll go and see him and we’ll take it from there.’
* * *
The hostel yard, when they arrived, was cordoned off with police tape and there were vans and personnel milling about, so Knox dropped Mariner off at a discreet distance, a little way down the lane. Following that tractor had given Mariner an idea. ‘Wait here a couple of minutes, will you?’ he said to Knox. ‘There is something else I’d like you to do for me.’
Walking up the lane and crossing into the hostel yard, Mariner knocked on the kitchen door. Elena opened it. She looked pale and harassed, and there were a couple of packed bags sitting on the floor by the door.
‘Hi, they’ve let me out,’ Mariner said.
‘So I see.’ She gave him a wan smile. She seemed to be in the middle of emptying the fridge and stopped for a moment, letting the door sway open. ‘Nice outfit. Very “care in the community.” You okay?’
‘I think they more or less believe me,’ said Mariner. ‘How are you holding up?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, looking far from it. ‘Got dropped back here a couple of hours ago.’
‘I hope they didn’t give you too hard a time.’
‘They did what they had to do.’
‘I’m sorry to have put you though all this.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ she pointed out. The second time today someone had told him that. ‘You don’t even know if it’s anything to do with you.’
‘But if it hadn’t been for me, Bryce wouldn’t have been staying here.’
She lifted her shoulders. ‘Well, it’s happened. Not much we can do about it now.’
‘Listen, I know this is a weird question, but have you got any vegetables from Abbey Farm knocking around?’ Mariner asked.
She stared at him. ‘I’ve got a few potatoes and parsnips, why?’
‘Could you spare me a couple? I can’t really explain now, but . . .’
Closing the fridge door, Elena disappeared into the pantry and came out with a couple of soil-encrusted parsnips. ‘Do you want me to wash them for you?’
‘No, thanks, they’ll do fine as they are,’ he said. ‘But have you got a couple of sandwich bags, and a spoon I can borrow?’
‘This gets weirder by the second.’ She got them for him. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Probably nothing,’ Mariner said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ Out in the yard he put the parsnips in one of the bags and sealed it up before going over to Elena’s vegetable patch, where he scooped a couple of spoonfuls of soil into the second bag, then walked back up the lane, to where Knox was patiently waiting in the car.
‘See if you can persuade the forensic lab to analyse these,’ Mariner said, handing him the two bags. ‘Talk to Rick Fraser. He owes me one. I want to know if Willow’s formula is kosher. The soil around the parsnips should contain his “magic potion” but the soil in this bag won’t. I’d like to know what the difference is; if he really is on to something or if it’s just the emperor’s new clothes.’
‘I’ll give it a go, boss. Keep in touch, eh?’ his sergeant added. ‘And try not to get yourself caught up in anything else?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Mariner.
* * *
When Knox had driven off Mariner went back to Elena’s kitchen.
‘They let you have your stuff back,’ she said, seeing his bag.
‘No, my sergeant’s been across. He brought it for me. I knew they wouldn’t let me back into the hostel any time soon.’
‘It’s screwed up our business before it’s even started,’ she said, wryly. ‘Who’s going to want to stay there now?’
‘Oh, you never know. You might get the morbidly interested.’
‘I’ve spoken to Ron and Josie Symonds at the pub,’ Elena told him. ‘They can put you up there for a few nights. On the down side you might have to put up with Joe Hennessey for company, but I’m sure you can manage to keep out of his way.’
‘Thank you. And you?’
‘We’ll be fine.’ She nodded towards the bags. ‘Cerys and I are going to stay at Rex’s place in town for a few days. He’s been asking us to move in with him for ages, so he’ll be delighted.’
Cerys appeared down the stairs. She looked in a bad way, her eyes red-rimmed.
‘She knows what’s happened,’ Elena said.
‘It’s not fair,’ said Cerys. ‘I really liked him.’
‘I know,’ said Mariner inadequately.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Walking down to the pub, fatigue hit Mariner like a tidal wave and it was hard work to simply continue putting one foot in front of the other, so that when someone called out, he barely even registered it.
‘Hey!’ This time it was more insistent and Mariner looked round to see Suzy Yin, pushing a thin package into the village post box. With a little wave, she jogged to catch up with him, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her parka.
‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ Mariner said.
‘How are you?’ she asked. ‘Apart from completely shattered. I heard about what happened at the hostel.’ Of course. It would be all over the news by now, not to mention the local grapevine.
‘I’ve been helping the local police with their enquiries all day,’ Mariner said. ‘It’s been strange to be on the other side for once, but I think they’re satisfied that, despite my proximity, I had nothing to do with it.’
‘Do you make a habit of stumbling across dead bodies wherever you go?’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry, that was an incredibly crass thing to say. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been.’
‘It wasn’t the most welcome start to the day,’ Mariner confessed.
‘And now you’re leaving?’ She noted the holdall.
Mariner shook his head. ‘For obvious reasons I can’t stay at the hostel for the moment, so Elena’s found me a room at the inn.’ Mariner nodded towards the pub where there was a jam of vehicles in the car park.
‘Well, that looks like it’ll be fun.’
‘Yes, I probably should get it over with. I haven’t eaten much today either, so I’m hoping they’ll be able to feed me.’
‘Well, if you get stuck there’s always a stir-fry on offer at my place,’ she said, suddenly. ‘It’s what I’ll be cooking tonight. Sorry to play to type, but you’d be very welcome to join me — if you’d like to, that is.’
‘Wait, I wasn’t hinting . . .’ Mariner began.
‘I know,’ she said pragmatically. ‘It would be nice to have someone sensible to talk to. I’m beginning to get rather bored with my own company. And I can guarantee it’ll be a bit quieter than in there.’ She nodded towards the pub.
‘Well, thanks, that would be great,’ Mariner said truthfully.
‘You’ll need some time to check in and all that. How about seven o’clock?’
‘It sounds perfect,’ Mariner said.
Feeling curiously revived, Mariner walked into the lounge of the White Hart and, as he did so, Megan the barmaid looked up hopefully. Despite how busy the pub was, Mariner noticed that the stools adjacent to the bar were empty and he realized she must be waiting for Hennessey. ‘I’m Tom Mariner,’ he told her. ‘I understand there’s a room booked for me here tonight.’
‘Hang on, I’ll get my dad,’ she said. She disappeared, returning seconds later with Ron Symonds, flushed and perspiring, a tea towel slung over his shoulder. From a board behind the bar he handed Mariner a key on a large wooden fob. ‘Room six, first floor,’ he said.
‘I can find my own way if you like,’ Mariner said as he signed the boo
king card.
‘Thanks,’ said Symonds, gratefully. ‘We are a bit rushed just now. It’s up the stairs and along the landing to the left.’
‘I suppose all this has been good for trade,’ Mariner remarked.
‘Not the kind of trade I’d want ideally, but I’d be stupid to resent it. Will you be eating with us?’
‘Not this evening,’ Mariner said.
‘Probably just as well.’ There was a shout from the kitchen and, with an apologetic nod, Symonds disappeared again.
Before going up to his room, Mariner bought a bottle of wine from Megan. It was a South African vintage, costing all of five pounds ninety-nine, and Mariner didn’t know how good it would be, but at least he wouldn’t be going up to the Hall empty handed.
He picked up his bag and climbed the narrow staircase to his room. Overlooking the main street, it was low-ceilinged and very feminine, all floral chintzes and frills, and the first thing Mariner did was to consign half a dozen lacy cushions to the top of the wardrobe. It had been a long day, and what he really wanted to do was flop down on the bed and close his eyes but standing under the hot shower enlivened him a bit. Mariner couldn’t help wondering if food and conversation would be the only things on the menu with Suzy Yin tonight. He reminded himself to not get carried away. She was simply being friendly. From what he had seen of her, it was her way with everyone. He changed into the one set of clothes Knox had brought him, found he had enough of a signal to send his sergeant a brief text to let him know where he was staying, and an hour later he made the short walk up to the Hall.
When she came to the door Suzy looked effortlessly gorgeous in tight jeans and a soft grey sweater that left one shoulder bare. Aware that he might be gawping, Mariner presented her with the wine. ‘It’s probably terrible but there wasn’t much choice,’ he apologized.
‘Good thing I’m not much of a connoisseur then,’ she smiled, taking it from him. ‘Thank you. Come through into the kitchen, and I’ll start on dinner. You must be famished, and it won’t take long.’
Inside, the flat was ultra-modern and Mariner sat at the breakfast bar and watched, captivated, as she moved around the kitchen expertly chopping, dicing and throwing vegetables, apparently at random, into a large skillet. Fifteen minutes later she delivered their plates, piled high, to the table and after a brief toast with the South African plonk, they tucked in. Perhaps because he was so hungry, for several minutes Mariner couldn’t speak, so exquisite were the flavours. ‘God, this is fantastic,’ he managed to say eventually.
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