Baby Lies (Reissue)

by Chris Collett

  ‘No, it’s just that I’m keeping you from your work,’ Knox said, indicating the books. ‘I don’t want to interrupt.’

  ‘Oh, I love interruptions, believe me.’ She spoke with feeling. ‘I thought it would be a good idea to get it out of the way, but I’m really not in the right frame of mind this evening.’

  ‘Well if you’re sure, a beer would go down well. Although I might not be the best of company,’ Knox admitted.

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but for me these days, any company is good company. Pull up a pew.’

  While Knox sat at the table, she fetched a bottle of German lager and a bottle opener. ‘I’ll let you do the honours. I was always hopeless with those things.’ She watched as Knox expertly flipped the lid. ‘I heard on the news that the baby’s been found. That’s fantastic.’

  ‘It’s a relief,’ said Knox, truthfully.

  ‘You must be exhausted.’

  ‘It’s been a long week.’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll settle for a takeaway tonight.’

  ‘Could you eat some chicken casserole? We had a lot left over.’

  Hearing the words made Knox salivate, but manners prevailed. ‘I couldn’t—’ he started to protest.

  ‘Honestly, I’ve got a freezer full too, so it’ll only go to waste. Shaun had a hearty appetite and I can’t seem to get the hang of cooking for just the two of us, somehow.’

  So it was a serious offer. ‘All right then. Thanks very much.’ Knox watched as she retrieved an earthenware casserole dish from the fridge and transferred it to the microwave, putting a plate to warm in the oven. She had a good figure, in jeans and a plain white T-shirt and Knox suddenly became aware of how he must look in a shirt that was three days old. ‘Is there somewhere I could just, er, wash my hands?’ he asked, pushing back his chair.

  ‘Of course. There’s a cloakroom just by the front door where you came in.’

  In the tiny washroom Knox washed his hands and face. It woke him up a bit but made not a scrap of difference to his appearance. ‘You still look like shite,’ he told his reflection.

  ‘You’re a teacher then,’ Knox said, settling himself back at the kitchen table, now with a place setting for one.

  ‘Only part-time, up at Kingsmead Comp,’ said Jean. ‘I’m not sure that it does much for Michael’s street-cred having his mum at the school, but it’s a stop-gap until something else comes along.’ The microwave pinged and she tipped steaming chicken and vegetables onto the plate, passing it to Knox along with cutlery. It smelled delicious and Knox tucked in.

  ‘What subject?’ he asked.

  ‘Maths and physics.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Why are men always surprised by that? And you, I know, are a detective,’ she confirmed. ‘Mrs Burrows at number forty-three filled me in. Actually she probably let slip more about your personal life than you would have liked, too. But don’t worry, I’m the soul of discretion.’

  Knox demolished the food within minutes. ‘I can’t tell you how good this is after three days of butties and takeaways.’

  She laughed. ‘It’s nice to get some appreciation. Ten-year-old boys tend not to notice the difference between one meal and the next.’

  ‘How long have you been—?’

  ‘Widowed?’ She helped him out. ‘Long enough to have got used to saying it out loud. Four years and three months, not that I’m counting. How about you?’

  ‘I’ve been separated a couple of years.’

  ‘Occupational hazard, I suppose, if all the TV cop shows are to be believed.’

  ‘Something like that.’ It was probably a bit too soon to admit to the serial infidelity.

  Knox sat back, replete. ‘That was delicious,’ he said, truthfully.

  She took the plate from him as he stifled a massive yawn. ‘And now you must go and get some rest.’

  Knox pushed his chair back from the table. ‘And let you get back to your marking.’

  ‘Sadly, yes.’

  ‘Thanks again.’

  ‘You’re very welcome. Did you want to take Nelson with you, or shall we keep him here tonight? Michael can bring him back in the morning and let you have a lie in.’

  ‘Who are you really?’ Knox asked with mock suspicion. ‘Mother Teresa? The morning would be great, thanks.’

  * * *

  In the normal course of things, after an investigation with the intensity of baby Jessica’s abduction, it would have taken at least two or three days for Mariner to adjust to being back in the real world again, and to make up for the sleep deprivation. The prospect of being sociable with a bunch of strangers was the last thing that he needed. But at the same time, he recognised how important this trip was to Anna. Something about their conversation yesterday had unsettled him. So often these days he seemed to disappoint her. Becky and Mark were her best friends. They’d been brilliantly supportive after the miscarriage, when Anna had spent time at their house recuperating. He should make the effort. So on Wednesday morning Mariner roused himself from what felt like another drug-induced sleep and by ten thirty he was driving south on the M5, the Malverns looming ahead of him on the skyline.

  He’d been unable to get in touch with Anna, but had left messages on her phone and Becky and Mark’s answer machine to let them know his ETA. It was a crystal clear autumn day, but he didn’t even have the energy to appreciate the bright sunshine highlighting the colours of the turning trees.

  Mariner had never been to the village of Upper Burwell before, so Anna had left him detailed instructions on how to find Becky and Mark’s house, and as he got nearer, he couldn’t help but soak up some of her enthusiasm for the area. Initially he’d been against the whole idea of this move to the countryside, but maybe it would be good after all. Perhaps a change of location was exactly what he needed. Making good time, he was there a little after twelve but when he bumped along the track to Becky and Mark’s house, although Anna’s car was parked on the driveway next to Becky’s, there was no one at home. Mariner got out of his car and strolled around the sprawling garden, which was rampant with bird life. It was in a lovely spot, with no background noise except the chirping of the birds, and he found it surprisingly easy to picture himself living here.

  Having explored every inch of the garden and with still no sign of anyone returning, Mariner recalled the village pub he’d driven past and decided to walk back the half-mile or so for a pint. This was the kind of picturesque village that American tourists would go nuts for, and the Farmers Arms was a black and white half-timbered building straight from the guide books. He walked into the bar, the prospect of a quiet pint suddenly hugely inviting. It wasn’t to be. The half-empty car park had fooled him and the bar was packed with people and loud with conversation. As he stood at the bar waiting to be served he scanned the room seeking a quiet seat tucked away somewhere, and that was when, in the far corner, at the centre of the group that seemed to be making all the noise, he saw Anna. She was surrounded by about half a dozen people, none of whom Mariner recognised. And she looked happier than she had done in months. Abandoning his place in the queue, he wove a path through the crowd to where she sat.

  ‘Tom! You made it!’ She greeted him heartily, though more like a long lost friend than as her partner, allowing him just a peck on the cheek, and seemed more concerned with her empty glass ‘—and just in time to get in a round. What are you drinking, folks?’ Her eyes gleamed and there was a flush to her cheeks that left Mariner wondering how long she’d been in here.

  Once he was back from the bar, bearing what, to him, seemed like an extortionately priced round, Anna made introductions, though with all the noise Mariner could barely hear the names, let alone commit them to memory.

  ‘Didn’t you get my message?’ he asked her, raising his voice above the din.

  ‘Yes, but I knew you’d find us in here.’

  ‘Where are Becky and Mark?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, they had to go into Here
ford to buy Megan’s christening outfit. I didn’t feel like going.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t look as if you’re stuck for company,’ Mariner observed.

  ‘That’s exactly it!’ She grinned, the irony in his words lost on her. ‘Everyone’s so friendly here. Great, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mariner smiled, his hopes for a peaceful afternoon in just Anna’s company shattered, but she was having such a good time he couldn’t ruin it for her the minute he arrived. ‘How was Jamie?’

  ‘He’s on form.’ The only thing going right for them at the moment was Jamie, Anna’s severely autistic younger brother, who had settled well into his new home, a rural farm community in Herefordshire. ‘We went for a walk and had a drink at the teashop in the village. He was out in the garden when I got there, with a girl called Julie, or “Dooley” as he calls her. They’ve got quite close so the staff said.’

  ‘A girlfriend? That’s a turn up.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Aged thirty-four, Jamie had never had a friendship in his life.

  ‘How close are they?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘Oh, the staff are keeping a watchful eye on things. Julie likes to look after Jamie, which mostly involves bossing him around, but Jamie likes being looked after. Simple as that. There’s such a difference in him, you wouldn’t believe. He’s thriving on the outdoor life. He looks so fit and strong, and he actually smiled when he saw me. We did the right thing.’

  Yes, for Jamie at least, they had.

  ‘It was such a nice time. I wish I could do it more often,’ Anna said.

  Mariner knew what she was thinking. It was part of the rationale behind moving to this area and they’d been over it before, many times. ‘Jamie doesn’t mind,’ he said.

  ‘We don’t know that. He can’t tell us.’

  They stayed in the pub until the middle of the afternoon, when Mariner was finally able to tear Anna away. Mostly he had sat back and let the conversation wash over him, especially as for much of the time he had no idea about the people or places being talked about. But the Marston’s was slipping down nicely and after a while he began to relax.

  Walking back along the lane, Mariner slipped a hand into Anna’s, but she pulled it out again to find a tissue to blow her nose. ‘So what do you think of this place?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s very nice. I can see what you mean.’

  Back at the house, Becky, Mark and Megan had returned from their shopping trip. Becky and Mark greeted Mariner warmly, but within seconds the focus was on toddler Megan, clearly used to being the centre of attention. The Indian summer made it balmy enough for them to sit outside on the terrace and for some reason Megan took a shine to Mariner, delivering toys to him every few minutes and saying ‘Ta,’ to which Mariner was obliged to reciprocate each time. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so tired he wouldn’t have found it so wearing.

  ‘Thanks so much for coming down,’ said Becky.

  ‘It must seem crazy to be having her christened at this late stage,’ said Mark. ‘We always meant to, but never quite got round to it. And now there’s a bit more urgency,’ he looked across at Becky and smiled knowingly. ‘We wanted to wait until you were both here before telling you. We’re having another.’

  Anna didn’t miss a beat, although the news must have crushed her. ‘Wow, that’s fantastic, isn’t it Tom?’ She leaned across and put a protective arm around Becky, but she was avoiding his gaze.

  ‘You’re pregnant?’ Mariner said, with surprise. It hadn’t escaped him that Becky had already poured herself a generous glass of Chablis.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Becky was enigmatic. ‘We’ve decided that we’ve already done our bit adding to the world population, so we’re adopting a baby from China, giving a home to a little girl who doesn’t have one. There are thousands abandoned there every year. We’re going through the adoption process at the moment, though it’s taking forever.’

  ‘Well, that’s very er, commendable,’ said Mariner, unable to think of anything more appropriate.

  ‘And it gives you some catching up to do,’ Becky said throwing him a meaningful glance.

  ‘We’re doing our best,’ said Mariner, neutrally, but he wasn’t close enough to Anna to reach out to her. There was a cry from across the patio as Megan stumbled over the sill, coming out of the house with yet another offering for Mariner, and went down on her hands and knees. The howling built to a crescendo.

  ‘Right,’ said Becky. ‘I think a young lady needs to have her bath now. I want to get her settled before supper. We’ve invited a couple of local friends round Tom, so that you can start getting to know people.’

  Mariner groaned inwardly, his social skills already stretched to their limits.

  Chapter Nine

  Becky and Anna went to bathe Megan leaving Mariner and Mark alone out in the garden.

  ‘You must be delighted with the way things have worked out,’ Mark said, conversationally.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The safe return of baby Jessica. You’re quite a hero.’

  ‘We were just fortunate,’ Mariner said. ‘It could have gone either way.’

  ‘Did you find out who was behind it?’

  ‘We have some ideas about that, but we’re still following them through. At the moment the main suspects are animal rights activists. We think they were trying to give the father, Peter Klinnemann, a scare.’

  ‘And no doubt succeeded. He works for Hamilton Sciences, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, though I’m not sure for how much longer. His partner seems to have finally persuaded him to quit his job.’

  ‘I can understand that reaction, of course, but that’s a crying shame. If we didn’t have companies like Hamilton, I’d be stuffed as a GP. Still, I can’t say I blame him.’ He shuddered. ‘Throughout that whole episode I kept trying to imagine how I’d feel if anything like that happened to Megan. Thank God we’ve never had to resort to leaving her in a place like that.’

  ‘It wasn’t the nursery’s fault,’ Mariner said, sounding more defensive than he’d intended. ‘It could have happened anywhere.’ But even as he said it he wasn’t so sure.

  ‘And how are you?’ Mark asked, changing the subject, his tone implying that the enquiry was more professional than personal.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Mariner.

  ‘You’re still seeing a counsellor?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mariner was astonished that Mark should be aware of that arrangement and he felt uncomfortable discussing it with a man he hardly knew. He certainly wasn’t about to admit that after the first couple of appointments he’d found a convenient reason to cancel whenever his counsellor had tried to schedule a follow-up.

  ‘I know from what Becky says that Anna’s been very concerned about you.’

  ‘Yes.’ Mariner didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘She still seems a bit low,’ Mark went on.

  ‘Well, things are not exactly going to plan.’ Mariner wondered how much Mark knew. He probably thought Mariner was referring to the miscarriage, but it was more than that. Fortunately he was saved from further explanation by the distant ringing of the front doorbell, signalling the arrival of the first of the guests.

  Gareth, also a GP, was one of Mark’s partners in the medical practice and was already known to Mariner. He’d been instrumental in getting Jamie into his new home, and when she came down again Anna greeted him warmly, their embrace lasting, in Mariner’s opinion, just a few seconds too long.

  ‘Jamie’s doing brilliantly,’ Anna enthused. ‘We’re so indebted to Gareth, aren’t we, Tom?’

  ‘Indeed we are.’ Mariner shook Gareth’s hand.

  ‘Hello again, Tom. How are you?’ And Mariner was disturbed to see the same look in his eyes as he’d seen earlier in Mark’s. Christ, they didn’t even live here yet but everyone knew all about them. How much had Anna told him about what he’d gone through? Mariner didn’t like the thought of that.

  Completing the party were near neighbours Jolyon, who was ‘
in business,’ and his wife Lavinia, ‘call me Vinnie.’ There was lots of air-kissing and faux hugging before they settled around the vast dining table in the conservatory overlooking the garden.

  ‘We’re so looking forward to having you guys down here, especially you, Tom,’ Jolyon said. ‘The local plods are a complete waste of space. Had my workshop broken into a few months back and apart from a visit to find out what happened, we haven’t heard a whisper from them.’

  ‘I’m sure they’re doing a good job.’ Mariner felt himself bristling slightly. ‘They’ll be in touch when they have something.’

  ‘And it’s hardly the crime of the century, darling, is it?’ Vinnie added tactfully.

  ‘Well, you should try and get down here in time for Christmas,’ said Jolyon. ‘There’s so much going on. Do you hunt?’

  Anna giggled. ‘Tom’s more of a dominoes man.’ That prompted laughter all round, which needled Mariner.

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose Birmingham’s much of a hunting sort of place,’ said Gareth. ‘But that will all change down here. What do you think about the job?’ There was an awkward pause.

  Anna reached over for some bread. ‘He’s only just got here,’ she said. ‘I haven’t had the chance to tell him about it yet.’

  ‘What job is that?’ Mariner asked, making an effort to stay casual.

  ‘Our practice receptionist is due to retire,’ said Mark. ‘Gareth and I have been trying to persuade Anna that it would be perfect for her.’

  ‘But you haven’t got any medical experience,’ Mariner pointed out.

  Mark laughed. ‘It’s not rocket science, as they say. Anna’s got what it takes; excellent communication skills, professionalism—’