Married Lies (Reissue)

by Chris Collett

  When he got up on Thursday morning, Kat was in the kitchen. No cooked breakfast today, but she’d made fresh coffee, which provided a welcome shot of caffeine.

  ‘I like to go out tonight,’ she announced.

  Mariner curbed a momentary pang of disappointment. ‘Who with?’

  ‘Is with whom,’ she corrected him, cheekily. ‘I go with my friends from the English centre.’

  ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘We go to ZigZag on Broad Street.’

  Mariner’s disappointment was displaced by anxiety.

  ‘Is a club,’ she told him.

  ‘Yes, I know.’ It frequently featured on the intranet bulletins at work as a venue for late-night disturbances. Mariner didn’t like the sound of it. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ he said moderately, and watched her face fall. ‘Some people get very drunk,’ he followed up, lamely. ‘They might pester you.’

  ‘Pester?’

  ‘Come after you; bother you.’

  ‘Is okay, Giles is take me,’ Kat said, brightly.

  ‘Giles?’ Mariner was all ears. She hadn’t mentioned that name before.

  ‘He’s my friend.’

  ‘Oh. Where did you meet him?’

  ‘At the centre.’ She was being vague.

  ‘What does he do?’ She looked blank. ‘His job?’

  ‘He’s a . . . businessman.’

  ‘What kind of business?’ Mariner knew she didn’t deserve this level of interrogation, but at the back of his mind he was thinking that the two men who had lured Kat into prostitution would doubtless have described themselves as businessmen too.

  She shrugged. ‘I think he tell me, but I don’t remember.’

  ‘When is he picking you up?’ Mariner asked, already planning that he would be sure to be around then. But again he was foiled.

  ‘He meet me from work,’ said Kat.

  So it was a fait accompli. Mariner wanted to say, no, it’s not safe for you to go out in the evening, that she belonged at home with him where he could keep an eye on her, but deep down he knew that it was not his job. ‘Just be careful then,’ he said.

  Kat stopped chewing her toast and went distant.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is what my dad say,’ she told him. She turned to Mariner. ‘I think that I like to see my mum and dad again one day.’

  ‘Good,’ said Mariner, hoping that it was an adequate response.

  * * *

  Tony Knox was already at his desk and had resumed his painstaking analysis of the paperwork taken from Nina Silvero’s bureau.

  ‘How’d it go with Stephanie? How did she take it?’ he asked.

  Mariner coloured a little. ‘Fine,’ he said simply but firmly closing off any further enquiry. ‘Found anything useful?’

  ‘I came across this.’ Knox passed Mariner a white embossed booklet, the order of service for Rachel Hordern’s wedding. ‘Must have been a lavish do, and it looks like Mum paid for it all. There are some pretty hefty sums going out of her bank account around that time to Brackleys.’

  Mariner perused the booklet. ‘No crime against that, if you’ve got the money, I suppose.’

  Across the room, Millie also seemed to be preparing to spend Thursday morning engaged in a paper chase. Mariner couldn’t help but notice the mound of plastic-sheathed catalogues on her desk. ‘I hope you haven’t brought your home-shopping habit in to work, DC Khatoon.’

  ‘I went back to see Lucy Jarrett yesterday,’ Millie said, shaking her head.

  ‘I thought she’d asked you to drop it? Something else has happened?’

  Millie told him about the 999 call.

  ‘And what did Lucy say about the attack?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘That it didn’t happen,’ said Millie. ‘According to her, she and Will just had an argument.’

  ‘Do you think he might be knocking her about?’

  ‘I didn’t see any physical damage, but she seemed happy for me to pick up the investigation again.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Mariner. ‘Did you get any joy from the Asheville police?’

  ‘They were responsive,’ Millie said. ‘Got back to me almost straight away. I spoke to a Lieutenant McCoy. They have no record of Will, but McCoy’s going to do some further digging. Meanwhile I thought I’d get stuck into this little lot; this is just what came in yesterday’s post.’

  ‘The postman must love her,’ said Mariner. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Mostly stuff that would make Will angry,’ Millie said. ‘And he seems to be on a short fuse as it is. This could be someone trying to drive a wedge between them.’

  ‘Have you come across any likely candidates?’

  ‘Well, no one seems all that overjoyed about their marriage,’ Millie told him. ‘Apparently it all happened pretty quickly. Best friend clearly had her nose put out of joint because Will chose Lucy over her, mother thinks he’s not good enough for her — except of course that all mothers think that. Her colleague at the health centre thinks he’s only after her money.’

  ‘Which also points to the possibility that it could be the man himself,’ said Mariner.

  ‘That had crossed my mind,’ said Millie. ‘He’s the one in the best position to arrange it all — knows their postal address, obviously, has access to the computer, and knows when she’s at home. Lucy said it herself, the phone calls never happen while he’s there.’

  ‘But what’s the motive?’ Mariner asked. ‘Surely he knows which side his bread’s buttered. He has a life of luxury from what you’ve said, plus he has the freedom to go off and do what he wants, while Lucy waits at home for him, the dutiful wife.’

  ‘There’s another woman around too,’ Millie said.

  ‘Now why didn’t I see that one coming? Lucy knows about her?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t mean “around” in that sense, at least I don’t have any evidence of that yet, but she’s the singer in the band. She called while I was there, wanting to speak to Will. According to Lucy they have history together, but now they’re just good friends. The woman clearly isn’t her bosom buddy, but Lucy seems to believe that it’s all perfectly innocent.’

  ‘We’ve heard that one often enough,’ Mariner pointed out. ‘It could be a scam set up by the two of them. Will meets Lucy, finds out that she’s loaded, marries her after a whirlwind love affair, then Lucy starts to behave bizarrely, claiming that she’s being followed and getting funny phone calls and he divorces her for unreasonable behaviour. It’s like Gaslight all over again.’

  ‘What?’

  Mariner shook his head. ‘Never mind — before your time. But as a consequence of all this, Will would end up with his share of Lucy’s worldly goods, leaving him financially secure and free to go off with this other woman.’

  ‘It could explain why he’s so desperate not to have children with Lucy too,’ Millie added. ‘Much harder to go through all that if there are kids involved.’

  ‘All of which makes you wonder how well Lucy really knows her husband,’ Mariner said.

  ‘I’m hoping to get something from their computer,’ said Millie. ‘Max is looking at it for me now. Meanwhile I’m contacting the companies that have sent all this stuff to see if we can trace any of it back.’ She indicated the pile of catalogues.

  ‘Anything yet?’

  ‘Nothing so far.’ She looked despondently at the stack. ‘Not many of them routinely keep records of who contacts them for information. The assumption is that it’s the person at the delivery address who wants it.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Mariner. ‘Keep at it and let me know if anything turns up. Actually, Lucy’s not the only one getting nasty things in the post. Nina Silvero got sent some dead flowers with a nasty note.’

  ‘Lucy’s is a continuous campaign, though. Hardly the same thing, is it?’

  ‘No, you’re right.’ Mariner turned to go but hesitated a moment.

  ‘Everything all right, sir?’

  ‘I’m a bit concerned about Kat.’ Mariner recount
ed the girl’s lack of concentration on the film they’d watched. ‘And now she’s going out with some bloke. Do you think I should do something?’

  ‘Maybe you should talk to Lorelei,’ Millie suggested. ‘She’s got more experience of this kind of situation.’

  Mariner had the number of the refuge counsellor written down somewhere. The Daffodil Project, managed by Lorelei, had housed Kat for a few days after her rescue but had been too much in demand to keep her, which is why Mariner had stepped in. But Lorelei specialised in counselling traumatized young women and had continued to advise and support her even after Kat moved on. It took Mariner a good ten minutes to locate the scrap of paper with her number scribbled on it, and he phoned her straight away. ‘I’m not sure what’s going on,’ he said, describing Kat’s behaviour. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘How does she seem?’ Lorelei asked.

  ‘Happy enough, I suppose, but distracted.’

  ‘It sounds as if Kat is at the point where she needs more independence. She’s doing what any other twenty-year-old would be doing. You should be pleased. If she’s feeling secure enough to be going out, it means that you’ve done a great job. And as for this guy, maybe you need to trust her on this.’

  Mariner wasn’t so sure, and was considering a possible strategy, when there was a knock on his door and he looked up to see Millie. She handed him a printout.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Leigh Hawkins’ itinerary,’ she said. ‘We got it off Will’s computer. It’s a bit last-minute, I know, but I see he’s performing at the White Lion in Bilston tonight. Looks like the kind of poky little Black Country pub that’s right up your street. I thought it might be worth going to see what he’s like. Fancy coming with me?’

  ‘You’re asking me on a date, DC Khatoon — and you, a married woman?’

  ‘You need to get out more.’

  ‘Kat might like to come,’ Mariner said, brightly.

  Millie pulled a face. ‘She’s twenty years old. A folk club? I don’t think so.’

  No, and Kat had other arrangements for tonight, of course. ‘All right. I’ll meet you there. Something I have to do first.’ And he was saved from further explanation by Millie’s phone ringing out in the bull pen.

  Chapter Nine

  Millie’s caller was Lucy Jarrett. ‘I went and collected the parcel from across the road,’ she told Millie. ‘It’s a Pound Puppy.’

  ‘What on earth’s that?’

  ‘It’s like a kid’s soft toy,’ Lucy explained.

  ‘So, continuing with the baby motif, then,’ said Millie.

  ‘Sort of,’ Lucy agreed. ‘But it is strange because, although it’s washed and quite clean, I don’t think it’s new. It’s quite worn in places. It looks sort of familiar, too.’

  ‘Like one you had when you were little perhaps?’ Millie hazarded.

  ‘No, it’s not that,’ said Lucy. ‘It’s more that I feel I’ve seen it before somewhere.’

  ‘Can you remember where?’

  ‘That’s the thing.’ Lucy sounded exasperated. ‘I’ve racked my brains, but I just can’t place it.’

  ‘Okay,’ Millie said. ‘We’ll get forensics to look at it. They might be able to establish where it’s come from. Could you drop it in at the station, along with all the packaging?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Lucy. ‘I’ll bring it in at lunchtime.’

  ‘How’s everything else?’ Millie asked.

  ‘I’m all right,’ said Lucy, but she didn’t sound too sure.

  * * *

  Susan Brady had fulfilled her obligation, and when Mariner logged on to his computer, he found an email with an attached list of dance school pupils, past and present, waiting in his inbox. Going back twenty years, it ran into dozens of names. Along with all the other paperwork they’d brought back from Nina Silvero’s house, they would have their work cut out for them, but Mariner was reluctant to hand it over to any junior officers and risk important connections being overlooked.

  ‘This is just what I joined the police for,’ muttered Tony Knox, when Mariner took the list out to him.

  ‘Me too,’ piped up Millie, from behind her own paperwork. ‘I’d love to see them make a two-hour action drama for the telly out of this.’

  ‘Oh yeah, and I found this earlier this morning, boss.’ Knox passed Mariner a small florist’s card, inscribed: a flower that isn’t nurtured withers and dies. I’m going to make sure it happens to you. Happy Anniversary. ‘Not sure how it helps though.’

  ‘Nor me,’ admitted Mariner. It was the kind of card that florists include with flowers all the time, but aside from the floral motif, it bore no other distinguishing features. ‘It looks as if it could even be home made. All it confirms is that this time last year Nina Silvero was getting threats. Doesn’t get us any closer to where they were coming from.’

  In actual fact, Knox didn’t really mind his new task. Making a few phone calls would be a welcome change from trawling through the contents of Nina Silvero’s bureau. At least this way he got to talk to people. That was the theory anyway, but in practice it turned out to be less straightforward.

  He began logically at the beginning of the dance-school list, and not surprisingly, in the years since their young daughters had attended ballet classes, many of the parents had moved on. After several wrong numbers and even more of the ‘has-not-been-recognised’ variety, he almost crowed with excitement when at last a woman picked up the phone and announced her name as the one he had in front of him. When Knox explained the reason for his call, she made the customary sympathetic noises; yes, she had seen the news and couldn’t believe it. Nina was such a lovely person, whoever would want to do that, etc., etc. And no, she couldn’t think of anyone who might have wanted to harm her. She herself hadn’t seen Nina for years, since her daughter had left the school.

  ‘Jonquil adored her,’ she said.

  ‘And is your daughter still dancing?’ Knox asked finally, completely unnecessarily, but heady from the prospect of crossing a name off the long list. There was an ominous pause before the woman answered, ‘My daughter died five years ago, Sergeant.’

  * * *

  ‘So I’m either completely wasting my time, or putting my size tens in it,’ Knox grumbled to Mariner and Millie later, over lunch in the canteen. ‘Most of the numbers are obsolete, or the people don’t live there anymore, and the one result I do get, that happens,’ he said. ‘I’m there getting her to dredge up all these memories, and all along . . . I mean, talk about tactless.’

  ‘Did she say how her daughter died?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘No, and I didn’t ask. I just wanted to get off the phone.’ Knox stopped chewing. ‘You think it could have been a fatal pas de deux?’

  Mariner winced. ‘You need to keep a reign on that so-called sense of humour of yours.’ But even he could see that the exercise wasn’t the most efficient use of his sergeant’s time. ‘Call Susan Brady back and go through the list with her to see if she remembers any parents who had issues, any who might have felt aggrieved when their daughters were not auditioned, that kind of thing. It should cut down the numbers.’ Though he was inclined to agree with Brady; that murder, especially one so vile, seemed a disproportionate response to rejection from a dance audition. It was just that at the moment there seemed little else in the way of a motive. ‘Start with those Susan Brady can identify, and if you’re still not getting anywhere, we’ll have to think again.’

  Millie had eaten just a few mouthfuls of her pasta bake when her pager went off. ‘My Pound Puppy’s arrived,’ she told the two men. ‘Don’t ask.’ Arranging her knife and fork, she got up from the table.

  ‘What about your dinner?’ Knox was horrified that she would simply abandon it.

  ‘I want to speak to Lucy; make sure she’s okay,’ Millie replied. ‘I should have had a salad anyway. Suli thinks I’m putting on weight.’

  Both Knox and Mariner watched her go. ‘Do you reckon her Suli needs his eyes testing?’ Knox
wondered aloud.

  But by the time Millie got down to reception, Lucy had been and gone. The toy was there waiting for her: a velveteen black and white dog with floppy ears and a happy expression. Nothing overtly sinister about that.

  Taking it back upstairs she met Mariner and Knox returning from lunch. Knox took the toy in its evidence bag from her and was equally dismissive. ‘I remember these,’ he said. ‘Our Siobhan had loads of them. In fact, one quite like it got me into trouble.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ said Millie, not remotely surprised.

  ‘It was Siobhan’s exam mascot, but she forgot to take it to school one morning, when she was doing her GCSEs. I’m out on patrol, and I get this panicked phone call from Theresa, asking me to pick it up from the house and get it to school for her before the exam started—’

  Mariner could see what was coming. ‘—and you used your blues and twos,’ he said.

  ‘How else was I gonna get through the rush-hour traffic?’ Knox said indignantly. ‘And I missed the early briefing session. I got a right bollocking over that.’

  ‘The first of so many,’ murmured Mariner.

  Millie was inclined to agree with Lucy that this was a strange one, but nonetheless she retrieved it from Knox and passed it on to forensics.

  * * *

  The results from Nina Silvero’s computer were on Mariner’s desk, along with a forensics update, when he got back from lunch. The PC was a new one, as they’d thought, and consequently the hard drive was practically empty. There was some evidence from the browsing history that Nina had been looking at internet dating sites for the more mature person, making Mariner wonder again about the man she’d been seen with. But there was no suggestion that she’d registered with any of these sites, and the only emails she’d sent, formal affairs, written in the style of letters, were to her stepdaughter.

  The forensic report seemed only to support what Mariner and Knox had already worked out. The screw top for the wine bottle on Nina Silvero’s kitchen table had been found in the bin. No prints but the residue of clear nail varnish around the rim, which would have cracked when it was opened, giving the illusion of breaking the seal. Traces of acid were found in the sink’s u-bend; in other words, nothing to contradict the version of events that he and Knox had put together.