‘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 that conversation. ‘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 affair and it looks as if 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 on a paper chase. Mariner couldn’t help but notice the mound of 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, with a shake of 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 wasn’t,’ said Millie. ‘According to her, she and Will had 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.’
‘OK,’ said Mariner. ‘Did you get any joy from the Asheville police?’
‘They were pretty responsive,’ Millie said. ‘Got back to me almost straight away. I spoke to a Lieutenant McCoy. They have no record on Will, but McCoy’s going to make further enquiries. Meanwhile, I thought I’d get stuck into this little lot; this is just what came in yesterday’s post.’
‘Christ, the postman must love her,’ said Mariner. ‘What’s the common theme?’
‘Mostly that it’s all stuff that would make Will angry,’ Millie said. ‘And he seems to be on a short fuse as it is. This is looking more and more like someone trying to drive a wedge between them.’
‘Have you come across any likely candidates?’
‘Well, no one seems 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.’
‘All of which brings us to the possibility that it could be the man himself,’ said Mariner.
‘That’s what I’d been thinking. And he’s the one in a 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,’ 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 there’s a history, but now they’re just good friends. The woman clearly isn’t her bosom buddy, but she seems happy 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 that they don’t have children too,’ Millie added. ‘Much harder to go through all that if there are kids involved.’
‘Yes, it 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?’
‘Not so far.’ She looked despondently at the stack. ‘None of these companies keeps records of who contacts them for information. The assumption is that it’s the person at the address where it was sent.’
‘OK,’ said Mariner. ‘Well, 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.’
‘This is a continuous campaign, though. Hardly the same thing, is it?’
‘No, you’re right.’ Mariner turned to go, but hesitated.
‘Everything all right, sir?’
‘I’m a bit concerned about Kat.’ Mariner recounted 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 with that kind of thing.’
Mariner had the number of the refuge counsellor written down somewhere. But it took him a good ten minutes to locate the scrap of paper it was scribbled on; he phoned Lorelei straight away. ‘I’m not sure what’s going on. 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 do that, 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 about that, and was considering possible tactics, 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, Max got it off Will’s computer. It’s a bit short notice, I know, but I see he’s performing at the White Hart 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, without him noticing us. Fancy coming with me?’
‘You 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. ‘OK. 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?’ Millie hadn’t come across them before.
‘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.’
‘OK,’ Millie said. ‘We’ll have it in to get forensics to look at it. That might help us 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 OK,’ said Lucy, but she didn’t sound too sure.
Susan Brady had fulfilled her obligation and, when Mariner logged on to his computer, there was an emailed list of dance-school pupils, past and present, waiting in his in-box. Going back to 1981, it ran into dozens of names. With all the 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 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 drama special 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.’
It was the kind of card that florists included with flowers all the time, but, aside from the floral illustration, bore no other distinguishing features. ‘Nor me,’ admitted Mariner. ‘It looks as if it could even be homemade. All it confirms is that this time last year Nina Silvero was getting threats. Doesn’t help us find out 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 speak to someone. That was the theory anyway, but in practice it turned out to be less straightforward.
He began logically at the beginning of the list, and not surprisingly, in the twenty-odd years since their daughters had attended ballet classes, many of the parents had moved on. After several wrong numbers and even more of the ‘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. No, she couldn’t think of anyone who might want 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 off a name on the long list.
There was an ominous pause before the woman said, ‘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 don’t exist, or the people don’t live there any more, and the one result I do get, that happens. Imagine how that was. I’m there getting her to go over all these memories, and all along - I mean, talk about tactless.’
‘Did she say how she died?’ Mariner asked.
‘No, and I didn’t ask. I just wanted to get off the phone.’ Knox stopped chewing his sausage and mash. ‘You think it could have been a fatal pas de deux?’
Mariner cringed. ‘You need to keep a rein 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 any kind of issues, especially with their daughters not being auditioned, any who might have felt aggrieved. That should cut down the numbers.’ Though he was inclined to agree with Brady, that murder, especially one so vile, seemed a disproportionate response to failing a dance audition. It was just that at the moment there seemed little else. ‘Start with them and, if it’s not going anywhere, we’ll think again.’
Millie had hardly started her pasta bake when her pager went off. ‘My Pound Puppy’s arrived,’ she told the two men. ‘Don’t ask.’ Having arranged 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 OK,’ 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.
When Millie got down to reception, Lucy had been and gone. The toy was there waiting for her: a soft black and white dog with floppy ears. Nothing overtly sinister about that.
Taking it back upstairs, she met Mariner and Knox returning from lunch. Seeing the toy, Knox was equally dismissive. ‘I remember these,’ he said. ‘Our Siobhan had loads of them. In fact, one of these got me into trouble.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘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 panic 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 a briefing session too. I got a right bollocking over that.’
Millie was inclined to agree with Lucy that this was a strange one. After bagging up the Pound Puppy, she passed it straight on to forensics.
The results from Nina Silvero’s computer had come back, and 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, though interestingly the history indicated Nina had been looking at some Internet dating sites for the more mature person, making Mariner wonder again about the man she’d been seen with. But there was no indication 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 screwtop for the wine bottle on Nina Silvero’s kitchen table had been found in the bin, and there were traces of acid in the sink’s u-bend; in other words, nothing that contradicted the version of events that he and Knox had put together. There was also a note about the contents of the grey plastic bottle, which Mariner couldn’t fully decipher, so he rang the lab.
‘It was something unexpected,’ Rick Fraser told him, ‘though I’ll leave you to work out the implications. We did a full chemical analysis on what was left in the plastic bottle. It wasn’t the original content.’
‘How do you mean?’ Mariner asked, feeling dense.
‘I mean the bottle was an old one, and the original contents must have been disposed of, because what was in there doesn’t match with what the label says. It’s close; the main ingredient is still sulphuric acid, but it’s combined with anionic wetting agents.’
‘Meaning?’
‘What was in the drain-cleaner bottle wasn’t drain cleaner, but pain
t stripper, more specifically, one designed to remove paint from rubber surfaces. The wetting agents reduce the surface tension of the paint, allowing it to be lifted off.’ Good old Rick, always providing far more information than was needed.
‘So who might use that?’ Mariner asked, cutting to the chase.
‘As far as I know it’s not a domestically used product,’ Rick said. ‘But it would be used anywhere where industrial-scale painting goes on; anywhere that surfaces need to be cleaned afterwards, maybe a paint shop or something like that.’
‘OK, thanks, Rick, that’s been helpful.’ Mariner was studying the report again and considering the implications of what Fraser had said, when a shadow fell across his desk and there was a tentative knock on the door. He looked up to see PC Solomon.
‘Come in.’ Mariner gestured to the chair opposite him. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m fine, sir, thanks,’ Solomon said, lowering his considerable bulk.
‘Not easy, making that kind of discovery,’ Mariner said. ‘Are you coping all right with it?’
‘Yes, sir, I think so.’ Solomon was clutching his notebook.
‘What have you got for us?’
‘I was assigned the house-to-house on Mrs Silvero’s street,’ Solomon said. ‘I thought you might want to know this.’ He consulted his notebook. ‘The woman who lives next door to Nina Silvero, Audrey Patterson. There was no one at home when I first went round, so I had to go back this morning. It might be nothing but -’
‘Go on,’ Mariner prompted.
‘She was out working in her back garden a couple of weeks back when she overheard what she called a “heated exchange” between Nina Silvero and her stepdaughter.’
Suddenly Mariner was interested.
‘She said that basically it sounded like Rachel Hordern was asking for money, a loan so that she and her husband could start some kind of business enterprise.’ Solomon read from the notes he’d taken. ‘Nina Silvero refused, the two of them argued for a bit, and then Rachel left.’ He looked up again at Mariner. ‘I thought you might want to speak to her.’
Stalked By Shadows Page 12
