Buried Lies (Reissue)

by Chris Collett

  ‘Yes, and that, in turn, was where she built her relationship with Amber. Incidentally, Amber isn’t her real name either. The lab ran DNA tests on blood samples from Bryce and that hair from the locket. We didn’t get anything on Bryce, or Bruce, but the hair sample hit on a fifteen-year-old girl on the missing persons database, who disappeared from Bristol eight years ago — Ruby Bruce, reported missing by her family.’

  ‘The ruby on the locket,’ said Mariner. ‘She just changed her name from one precious stone to another. Do you know what Bryce said to me? He said: “you do what you can to keep your children safe.” He had a pretty warped idea of what that was. He got his own daughter pregnant.’ Mariner took a sip of his pint. ‘Nearly thirty years in the job and you think you have a reasonable grasp of humankind. You’d think it would get easier to spot the deviants.’

  Griffith snorted. ‘They’re the most difficult; the ones who are sly enough to conceal it. He wasn’t quite the incompetent orienteer that he led you to believe either. Turns out he was twenty years in the Territorials.’

  ‘Played me like a Stradivarius,’ said Mariner. ‘I can’t get over how easily I fell for it. He seemed such an ordinary man.’

  ‘Which, in many ways, he was,’ agreed Griffith. ‘But the family has history. Shortly after Ruby eloped with Theo Ashton, Bryce’s wife left him and moved away along with the older daughter, who herself suffers from mental health problems.’

  ‘Chances are she was abused too,’ said Mariner.

  ‘Bryce hasn’t worked at a university for years, and even then he didn’t teach. He was a glorified lab assistant. He quit his job after Amber ran away to devote all his time to looking for her.’

  ‘So how do you think it went?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘Well,’ said Griffith. ‘I think that when Bryce got Theo’s letter he hired Hennessey to check it out, perhaps with a view to reconciliation, but I think it’s more likely that he had a more specific outcome in mind. Having confirmed Amber’s presence at Abbey Farm he set off on his across-Wales walk, choosing the Black Mountain Way quite deliberately. If then it later emerges that he’s been in the area, he has a valid explanation for visiting and has put down a series of alibis nearby — including, conveniently, you. Bryce arranged, through Hennessey, to meet Theo in Plackett’s Wood. We still have no murder weapon, nor can we guess its origins, so we don’t know if Theo’s intention was to kill Bryce, or if Bryce had the same aim. In any event, for one of them, something went wrong. Perhaps Theo wasn’t strong enough to overpower Bryce, who turned on him and killed him before escaping back to the abandoned byre.’ Griffith looked at Mariner. ‘I think it’s safe to assume that it was Bryce who was hiding out there, and had been since shortly after you got to Caranwy. Telling you about it at the time when McGinley was back on the radar just confused the issue. What we’ve got from here on in is pure speculation, but it seems to me that Hennessey, when he found Theo Ashton, guessed what had happened, and arranged to meet Bryce. Having killed Ashton, Bryce had no choice but to kill Hennessey too, leaving him in his abandoned car. We have a witness who recalls having seen Bryce setting off in the direction of where the vehicle was found on Monday afternoon.

  ‘Knowing he’d got to get away, Bryce was probably hoping to pass back through the village unnoticed, when you spotted him and persuaded him to stay at the hostel. He probably felt relatively safe; he could be fairly sure that no one except Theo and Hennessey had known he was there, and to refuse your invitation would have been to blow his cover as a bumbling incompetent. But Amber must have found out, perhaps from Elena, what was going on, and when Bryce turned up as an extra guest at the hostel, the chance to end it once and for all would have been too great a temptation. What we have no way of knowing, of course, is whether Amber carried out the execution herself or had someone do it for her, which brings us back to those suspects. Incidentally, given the relationship with Gwennol Hall, we can perhaps also add Dmitri or one of his buddies to that list. Forensically, we’ve turned up nothing that places anyone other than Elena, Bryce and you in the hostel, but that doesn’t mean that Willow, Amber or Dmitri couldn’t have entered and been very careful. We haven’t enough evidence yet to make any fresh arrests.’

  ‘So we may never know,’ said Mariner.

  ‘If we keep questioning them, sooner or later someone might let something slip.’ Glancing up, Griffith emptied his glass. ‘Looks like you’ve got another visitor,’ he said, as if Mariner was in hospital. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

  Mariner looked across to see Suzy Yin loitering in the doorway. As Griffith was leaving, she came over. ‘My God,’ she said, staring in horror. ‘What happened to you?’

  Mariner gave her the abridged version.

  ‘And Glenn McGinley?’ Suzy asked. ‘He wasn’t after you?’

  ‘Not me, no. But a patch of blood and mucous was found by the side of Aubrey’s cottage, which is quite likely to be McGinley’s. Elena told me that the Reverend had interfered with some of the kids round here. I think his reach extended far beyond Caranwy.’

  ‘So you’re going back to Birmingham tomorrow?’ she asked.

  ‘First thing in the morning.’ Mariner looked at her. ‘It’s worth a visit,’ he said. ‘Contrary to popular belief we do have some interesting historic and cultural features.’

  ‘I know,’ she smiled. ‘I looked it up.’

  ‘And it’s not a million miles from here.’

  ‘Even closer to Cambridge,’ she said. ‘I’ll be heading back there in a couple of weeks. Ever been to Cambridge?’

  ‘Only for work.’

  ‘Well, we must rectify that.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mariner. ‘Very soon.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Day Thirteen

  On his way back to Birmingham, Mariner drove the eight or so miles north-west to the Towyn Farm Community. The sudden deaths of the Barhams’ parents had left Jamie well provided for financially, so his care had never been in question. Mariner could remember how Anna had enthused about Towyn when Jamie first came here, though Mariner had rather cynically believed her eagerness to be driven mainly by her attraction to a certain GP and her desire to move out to this area anyway. Now he would see for himself. He drove along the track to what looked to have originally been an old, fairly modest manor house. Both house and gardens looked reasonably well tended. Mariner tried to work out how long it was since he’d last seen Jamie. It must be a couple of years, which made him wonder if Jamie would even remember him, especially beyond the context of Anna’s house in Birmingham.

  The set up seemed very informal. Mariner parked up and walked unimpeded into what looked like the main entrance to the house, but there was no one around to talk to and there seemed to be no means of attracting attention. A table with a visitor’s book stood to one side and Mariner was about to sign himself in when a door opened and a young man hurried out carrying a pile of folded clothing. ‘You all right?’ he asked, though it didn’t appear that he cared one way or the other. A badge identified him simply as ‘Dave.’

  ‘I’ve come to see Jamie Barham,’ Mariner said.

  ‘Oh, right-oh. Do you want to wait in there?’ He indicated a door off to the left. There seemed no question of challenging Mariner’s identity or the purpose of his visit. ‘I’ll go and get him.’

  Mariner went into the room, which like the rest of the ground floor, was painted a nondescript beige colour and had no decoration, not even a pair of curtains at the small window that overlooked a large garden. There were a dozen or so easy chairs, some stained and torn, and a solid wooden cupboard to one side was closed. The only other accoutrement was a small flat-screen TV on a bracket high on the wall. The place had a dusty unused smell and there were marks on the walls, one of them looking disconcertingly like a smear of blood. Mariner heard yelling somewhere far away in the house that stopped abruptly. Several minutes later the door opened and Jamie was ushered into the room, shoulders hunched and shuffling along in a pair
of shapeless corduroy slippers. He looked older, some streaks of grey starting to appear at his temples, but then he’d be — what, thirty-six or thirty-seven by now? He was clutching the waistband of his tracksuit trousers in his fist, as if holding them up, and Mariner noticed the sharp rectangular creases on his sweatshirt, perhaps freshly laundered, or recently removed from its packaging. Mariner wasn’t expecting eye contact or any acknowledgement, but Jamie’s eyes flickered briefly towards him, registering his presence.

  ‘Jamie, sit there,’ the man said loudly, as if addressing a deaf person, and gesturing to one of the chairs. Jamie meekly complied. There was a faded bruise on the side of his forehead.

  ‘He bangs his head sometimes,’ Dave said, seeing Mariner take that in. An explanation was unnecessary. Mariner had witnessed that the first time he met Jamie, trying to interview him for a crime he could never have committed.

  ‘Give us a shout when you’ve finished,’ Dave said. ‘He should be all right.’ And he left the room.

  ‘Hello, Jamie,’ said Mariner, keeping his distance. ‘How are you doing?’

  Jamie continued to stare at the floor.

  Mariner was stumped already. ‘Thought I’d come to see you, see where you live. It’s just you and me now, mate.’

  Jamie had started to rock gently back and forth. It was something Anna had always hated and instinctively Mariner walked across to him. ‘Jamie, sit still,’ he said and went to put a hand on his shoulder, but Jamie flinched away, as if he was about to be struck.

  ‘Hey,’ said Mariner, backing off again. ‘It’s all right.’ At close quarters he caught a whiff of body odour and could see the unevenness of the stubble on Jamie’s chin. He couldn’t help wondering what Anna would think of her brother’s appearance. She’d always insisted that Jamie be well groomed and dressed like the adult he was, and often in designer clothes. But perhaps they’d be out of place here. For the first time Jamie looked directly at him. ‘Spectre man,’ he said.

  Mariner was disproportionately pleased to hear that inaccurate reproduction of his title ‘Inspector Mariner.’ When they’d first met it was the best Jamie could do and before long Anna had started using it and the name had stuck. It was an indication of some recognition at least. He’d stopped off at a village shop on his way here and bought a couple of packs of the Hula Hoops that Jamie used to like. Now seemed like a good time to offer them, and pleasingly they were obviously still a favourite. Mariner sat down on one of the chairs and the two men remained in a sort of companionable silence, save for Jamie munching his way through the crisps. When he’d finished he carefully passed Mariner the empty packet, before standing up and moving to the door. It seemed like a signal for him to leave. Before leaving, Mariner wanted to introduce himself to whoever was in charge, though that proved less straightforward than it should have been. Eventually he managed to find his way to a main office and a man called John this time, whose badge also declared him the manager.

  ‘Jamie used to have a friend here; Julie, I think her name is,’ Mariner said. ‘Is she still about?’

  ‘I’m sure we haven’t got a Julie,’ John said. ‘Let me just check.’

  He came back a few minutes later. ‘Julie Apney left us about three months ago,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, do you know why?’

  John shrugged, neither knowing nor, it seemed, caring. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Would it be possible to get contact details for parents? I wouldn’t ask but my partner lent them a number of books,’ said Mariner, improvising. ‘I’d like to get them back.’

  Even though Mariner was sure that it might contravene various data protection regulations, John had no hesitation in obliging him and Mariner left with the name and address in his pocket.

  Leaving Towyn, he stopped for a beer and a sandwich at a pub a couple of miles down the road, where he sat and assessed what he had seen. Staff who seemed largely indifferent, Jamie dressed in old and ill-fitting clothes that were possibly not even his, and that distant yelling and possible blood stain on the wall. Something about the whole set up made Mariner uneasy. Finishing his pint, he made a snap decision and outside, he climbed into his car and headed back towards Towyn. This time he asked to go up to Jamie’s room. Jamie shared the small cell-like space with someone who, from the prevailing smell, seemed to have incontinence issues. Mariner had taken his small day sack in with him and collected up the few personal possessions from Jamie’s locker, including a photograph of Anna. Then, with promises of McDonalds, he persuaded Jamie down to the entrance hall and went to find Dave who was back on his own in the office. Adopting his casual approach, Mariner said: ‘I’d like to take Jamie out for a bit — that okay?’ Apparently it was.

  Mariner had half expected at any point that Jamie would vocally and physically resist, which was his normal reaction to most disturbances to his routine. But as Mariner strapped him into the passenger seat of his car Jamie co-operated fully — in fact, Mariner was pretty certain he saw a faint smile pass across his face. They drove out of the Towyn grounds unchallenged. Though utterly convinced that this was the right course of action, it wasn’t until they were well on their way up the motorway heading back to Birmingham that Mariner started to consider the enormity of what he was taking on. He was trying with limited success to avert the sudden onset of panic, when a news item on the radio caught his attention and he turned up the volume. ‘There has been a breakthrough in the M5 road-rage stabbing earlier this year. A key witness has come forward with new evidence which has led to the arrest today of two men.’

  Epilogue

  After a cold start to the year, the months of May and June were unseasonably warm. On a caravan park near Aberystwyth, residents began to complain about an unpleasant smell in one area of the park. The manager was baffled; he’d had all the sewerage pipes in the vicinity thoroughly checked. Eventually, at the suggestion of a couple of holidaymakers, he forced entry into unit 71 and found the decaying body of Glenn McGinley, thought to have been there for some weeks. Among the possessions spread out on the dining-room table was a photograph of McGinley as a boy along with his handsome younger brother, Spencer, amid a group of other children, taken at the youth hostel in Caranwy in 1974. Standing smiling in the centre of the picture, with a fatherly hand on Spencer’s shoulder, was the Reverend William Aubrey.

  THE END

  DI MARINER SERIES

  Book 1: DEADLY LIES

  Book 2: INNOCENT LIES

  Book 3: KILLER LIES

  Book 4: BABY LIES

  Book 5: MARRIED LIES

  Book 6: BURIED LIES

  Book 7: MISSING LIES

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  DI TOM MARINER BOOK 1: DEADLY LIES

  https://www.amazon.co.uk/DEADLY-gripping-detective-mystery-twists-ebook/dp/B075XT8Y4D/

  https://www.amazon.com/DEADLY-gripping-detective-mystery-twists-ebook/dp/B075XT8Y4D/

  Journalist Eddie Barham is found dead in his home. A syringe is in his arm and a note by his side reads, ‘No More.’

&nbs
p; Open and shut case of suicide? Not for DI Mariner. Hours before, he saw Barham picking up a woman in a bar. And then Mariner discovers Barham's younger brother, Jamie, hiding in a cupboard under the stairs.

  Jamie is the only witness to his brother's death, but his severe autism makes communication almost impossible. Mariner is determined to connect with Jamie and get to the truth. Is the journalist’s death related to his investigation of a local crime kingpin?

  Please join our mailing list for free Kindle crime thriller, detective, mystery, and romance books and new releases, as well as news on Chris’s next book!

  http://www.joffebooks.com/contact/

  Thank you for reading this book. If you enjoyed it please leave feedback on Amazon, and if there is anything we missed or you have a question about then please get in touch. The author and publishing team appreciate your feedback and time reading this book.

  Our email is office@joffebooks.com

  http://joffebooks.com

  Follow us on Facebook www.facebook.com/joffebooks

  We hate typos too but sometimes they slip through. Please send any errors you find to corrections@joffebooks.com

  We’ll get them fixed ASAP. We’re very grateful to eagle-eyed readers who take the time to contact us.

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