‘Hello, Tom. You’re awake.’ She grinned widely, though she seemed to be having some difficulty focusing on him.
‘And you appear to be drunk,’ Mariner observed, stating only what was obvious.
‘I jus’ had a little drink.’ Concentrating hard, she held up her finger and thumb, half an inch apart.
That wasn’t all. The herby smell of weed wafted towards him along the hall. ‘Good night?’ he asked.
‘It was great!’ She straightened up, stumbling a little.
‘You’re late home.’
‘After we go to club we go to a guy’s house for party.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know. An apartment. It’s groovy I think, and wicked, very wicked.’ She giggled again. Dumping her second shoe with a clonk, she wobbled towards him, but at the last minute missed her footing and fell against him, giggling. Her hand slid under his T-shirt, landing on his bare stomach. Mariner drew breath involuntarily.
‘Oh.’ Kat gazed drunkenly up at him. ‘You like that? You like me to do something for you?’
‘No!’ Appalled, Mariner wriggled free and backed away from her. ‘Go to bed, Kat.’
Lucy Jarrett couldn’t sleep either. She had been sick again earlier in the evening; the anticipation of an evening alone enough to make her ill now. She’d spoken to her mother on the phone earlier, and the instant she’d replaced the receiver the phone had rung again; silence at the other end. She’d spent the rest of evening with the phones unplugged, but for the last couple of hours had been more jumpy than ever. Where was Will? Their gig tonight wasn’t exactly on the doorstep, but it was near enough for him to come home if he wanted to, and it must have ended hours ago. It was a long time since she’d seen him play. When they’d first met he was keen that she should go along; she felt that he was showing off to her, but then after the time he’d caught her yawning during a set he’d actively discouraged her from going.
‘You’re bored, of course you are,’ he’d told her. ‘One gig is pretty much like another, and you’ve been working all day. You don’t have to come along, really.’ At the time it had seemed like genuine empathy, though now she doubted that. But she’d taken him at his word and, even when he was performing just a few miles away, she stayed at home and waited for him. And it did have its upsides. Often when he came home after playing he was on fire, pumped to the brim with adrenalin. It was when their lovemaking had been at its most passionate, and that was saying something. But not lately. Not since the calls had started. Was that down to him, or her? DC Khatoon had planted the seeds of doubt about Will, making Lucy realise how little she knew about him. When they first met she’d been mesmerised by him, even she could see that. But it had seemed mutual. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. When had that changed?
She was actually dozing off when the headlight beams swept across the lounge and she heard the sound of Will’s transit pulling into the drive. Weak with relief, she was at the front door before he had even got out of the van, but she could tell as soon as he got out that something was wrong.
‘Good gig?’ she asked as he brushed past her and into the hallway.
‘It was different,’ he said, dumping down his things. He turned to glower at her before going into the kitchen, where he opened the fridge and took out a beer.
She trailed him in there. ‘How do you mean?’ Lucy asked. This sounded personal, though she couldn’t imagine what it could possibly have to do with her.
‘Thanks to you, I’ve been under surveillance from the police all night.’
‘What? How do you know?’
‘One of them introduced herself to me at the end and said that she knew you.’ His voice was even but the fury was evident in the twitching muscle in his jaw. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you went to the police? I hate being put on the spot like that.’
‘Because I didn’t -’ Lucy whimpered. ‘At least I did, but then I thought about what you said, about it probably being just kids, and realised how stupid it all was and I asked them to forget it.’
‘So what were they doing there?’ Will demanded.
‘Maybe it was just coincidence.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Maybe they like folk music.’
Will just looked at her. ‘You think I was born yesterday?’
Lucy capitulated, her resistance gone. ‘Someone reported us to them,’ she said listlessly.
‘What? When?’
‘When we had that row on Tuesday night,’ Lucy said weakly. ‘The police got a phone call from someone saying that I was being attacked. Someone must have been watching. Someone is watching me, Will. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The policewoman, Millie -’
‘An Asian woman?’
‘Yes, she came to see me. I’ve been getting all these things in the post, and all these emails. They think there’s something going on.’ They believe me, she wanted to say, but something in Will’s expression stopped her.
‘And what exactly do they think is “going on”?’
‘That someone is trying to frighten me!’ she exclaimed.
‘And they think it’s me?’
‘Of course not!’ Did the denial sound as false to Will’s ears as it did to her own? ‘They’re talking to everyone I know. It’s what they do.’
‘Well, now they’ve talked to me,’ Will said. ‘And it’s not going to happen again any time soon.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘This situation is getting too crazy for me. I need to get some stuff off the computer then I’m out of here.’
‘You can’t.’
Will regarded her coolly. ‘I think you’ll find that I can.’
‘No, I mean the computer. They’ve taken it away to look at.’
‘What?’ Will took a step back and Lucy couldn’t help it, she flinched in anticipation.
‘It’s because of the emails I’ve been getting,’ she said. ‘They had to take it away to trace them.’
Will’s expression had changed subtly. Could she see panic in his eyes now? ‘The details of the band’s itinerary, the confirmations are on there.’
‘Is that all?’ Instantly she regretted the question.
‘What kind of a fucking question is that?’ He moved towards her, but then changed his mind, turning and storming out into the hall, where he picked up his bag and jacket again. ‘Jesus, Lucy, I don’t know what’s got into you. Or maybe you always were this way but I didn’t see it before.’
‘Where are you going?’ Lucy pleaded, hating the desperation in her voice. ‘I was going to run you a nice hot bath.’
‘I’m going some place I can relax,’ Will said. ‘Where I don’t feel persecuted.’
‘Back to Tess?’
He stopped in his tracks and turned back to her. ‘Oh, so that’s what this is all about. You’re jealous, of Tess?’
‘No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -’
But he didn’t wait for her explanation. He marched out of the house, slamming the door hard behind him.
Wrenching the door open again, Lucy called after him. ‘Will, please, I didn’t mean it! Come back so we can talk about this!’ But he was already reversing out of the drive. As she watched the tail-lights of his van disappearing round the bend in the road, Lucy shuddered. A gust of wind blew up and, feeling suddenly exposed, she stepped back in and slammed the door, then leaned her back against it. Was he out there? Were the police about to arrive on her doorstep again? Part of her hoped they would, because at least then for a moment she’d feel safe again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kat wasn’t about when Mariner got up on Friday morning, the indulgences of the night before taking their toll, no doubt. He wondered if he should call her; she might be late for work otherwise, but her hours were flexible some days and in truth he was glad to be spared the embarrassment of facing her. He was still trying to work out what had happened last night.
As soon as he got into his office, he ran a check on the sports car he’d seen
Kat getting into. A misuse of privileges perhaps, but Mariner didn’t feel too guilty about it. He was merely protecting her. The car’s owner was registered as Giles Ridley-Coburn. What’s more, the Police National Computer told him that Giles had form. Millie knocked and came into his office.
‘Would you trust a bloke called Giles Ridley-Coburn?’ Mariner asked her.
‘Who’s he?’ Millie came to look over his shoulder at the screen.
‘He’s the guy Kat went out with last night.’
‘She went on a date? That’s brilliant,’ Millie enthused.
‘Is it?’
‘Of course it is. It means that she’s getting back to normal. Does she know you’re checking him over?’
‘Not exactly,’ Mariner confessed.
‘So how did you get his name?’
‘I didn’t, I got his registration number.’
‘He picked her up from the house?’
Mariner said nothing.
Millie’s eyes widened as she pieced it together. ‘You were spying on them. That’s where you were before the gig last night.’
‘You sound as if you don’t approve.’
‘Of you following Kat? It’s what we call stalking.’
‘I’m just watching out for her,’ Mariner said defensively.
‘That’s probably what Will Jarrett would say about Lucy. You’re not her dad, you can’t police who she sees.’ Despite her reservations, Millie peered over Mariner’s shoulder at the screen, curiosity overriding propriety. ‘Has he got form?’
‘Not much; a couple of endorsements for speeding, and one for possession of cannabis, though nothing recent. It doesn’t say anything about his associates, though.’
‘It’s a pretty up-market address,’ Millie noticed. ‘Isn’t that the old insurance building that was converted into luxury penthouses? They don’t come cheap.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Mariner said glumly. ‘He looks far too young to be earning that kind of money legitimately. And Kat was dressed provocatively yesterday evening.’
‘How do you mean, provocatively?’
‘She was wearing a short dress, sort of clingy, and not much to it, if you know what I mean.’
‘It was a mild evening.’ Millie laughed. ‘And she’s a young woman with a great figure. My God, if I was her shape I’d be showing it off too. Perhaps all it means is that she’s feeling confident about her body again and doesn’t need to hide it away under baggy clothes. I think it’s a good sign.’
‘Is it a good sign that she hit on me too?’ Mariner explained what had happened the previous night.
‘OK, that’s something different. But surely that was just the drink talking.’
‘You mean, why else would she come on to a sad old git like me?’
Millie smiled. ‘You took the words right out of my mouth. You need to relax a bit and let her be herself.’
‘Yeah, maybe you’re right,’ Mariner conceded. ‘While we’re on here, let’s take a look at our obsessive Will Jarrett fan.’
Millie typed in the registration number she’d noted down the previous night, and the record unfolded.
‘Sally Frick,’ he read. ‘Address in Kings Heath, as she told us.’ He did a swift mental calculation. ‘Aged forty-one, and clean as a whistle.’
‘No previous stalking convictions?’ Millie asked hopefully.
‘Sadly not,’ said Mariner. ‘But it might be worth paying her a visit.’
‘On what grounds?’
‘You could try openness and honesty,’ Mariner said. ‘Tell her what’s going on and see if she knows any other fans who might do this sort of thing. While you’re there you can get a sense of what she does all day, and at least establish whether she’s computer literate and has access to a machine.’
A wolf whistle out in the bull pen caught their attention and they looked up to see Tony Knox, looking uncharacteristically formal in a dark suit, giving the V sign to Charlie Glover.
‘Blimey,’ said Millie. ‘What’s the occasion?’
‘Nina Silvero’s memorial service,’ said Mariner.
‘Ah.’
Nina Silvero had been cremated that morning in a small family service that even Mariner felt unjustified to intrude upon for the purposes of the investigation. But the memorial celebration that followed was at the Oratory, also known as ‘Little Rome’, the huge Baroque-style edifice on the Hagley Road, built as a memorial to Cardinal Newman, and was altogether a different affair.
‘Wow, what a place,’ murmured Knox, gaping up at the ornate high ceiling, as he and Mariner accepted hymn books from an usher and took a couple of seats towards the back, the better to observe the mourners.
By the time the proceedings began, the transept of the church was full, and not just with ordinary folk. Among the various low-level dignitaries, Mariner watched a couple of high-ranking police officers make their way down the aisle towards the middle of the church. Family and close friends occupied the first couple of rows, including Rachel and Adam Hordern, and Mariner pointed out Estelle Waters, elegantly dressed in a grey wool suit. In addition, there were a number of couples, some accompanied by teen and pre-teen daughters, who Mariner deduced to be from the ballet school, past and present. A number of mature women, grouped together, Mariner surmised could also be ballet-school officials. Rachel Hordern was the epitome of the grieving daughter and spoke movingly about her stepmother.
‘If she did have anything to do with it she’s putting on one hell of an act,’ Knox whispered to Mariner.
As he spoke they became aware, as did those around them, of a commotion on the opposite side of the church as a woman, apparently in some distress, jumped up and began forcing her way from her seat in the middle, to the end of the row; no mean feat as she was a large woman, wearing a bulky duffle coat and carrying a capacious handbag. People turned to stare as, in her haste, she practically fell into the side aisle before recovering and hurrying out of the church. Mariner, placed on the end of the row, quietly got up and followed her out, catching the closing door before it slammed shut. But, when he emerged into a squally shower, the woman had vanished.
The service ended with a rousing hymn, after which Rachel and her entourage proceeded out of the church. Mariner turned to watch them go, and as he did so locked eyes with another familiar, albeit older figure at the very back of the church on the opposite side. Nodding an acknowledgement, he turned to tell Knox. ‘See who’s over there?’ But when he turned back again, Jack Coleman, his old DCI, had gone. On their way out of the church there was the familiar meet and greet line. Mariner scanned the crowd ahead for Coleman, but he’d disappeared, leaving Mariner wondering if he’d been mistaken.
‘Thanks for coming, Inspector,’ said Rachel, as they approached. ‘I hope you and your sergeant will be able to join us at the reception.’
‘Thank you, we’d be pleased to.’ Mariner didn’t like to say that they had been planning to come along anyway, invitation or not.
Nina Silvero’s wake was held just down the road at the Clarendon Suite and many of the guests were choosing to walk there, Mariner and Knox included. They caught up with Susan Brady.
‘I still can’t believe she’s gone,’ she said. ‘I keep expecting her to pop up. All other things being equal, I think she’d have rather liked it; the music, the friends. I can’t imagine how we’re going to get on without her.’
‘Not all bad, though,’ Mariner said. ‘We have had a look at her will. In some respects it’s worked out well for you, hasn’t it?’
Susan’s colour rose. ‘Look, if you think I had anything to do with -’
‘How well do you know Rachel?’ Mariner asked.
‘Before today I hadn’t seen her in ages, but we used to dance together when we were younger. We weren’t close. Rach is a couple of years older than me, and moves in rather different circles.’
‘Did you notice the woman who left the church halfway through?’ Mariner asked.
‘Yes, overwh
elmed by it all, I suppose.’
‘Did you know her?’
She shook her head. ‘She might have been a ballet-school mum, though I couldn’t be sure. There are so many of them. And there are plenty of people here today that I don’t recognise.’ They had arrived at their destination and Susan excused herself to go to the Ladies.
Mariner and Knox were directed, along with those around them, to a windowless, airless room that looked as if it was designed for sales conferences. It couldn’t have been further removed from the church, but perhaps that was the intention. Helping themselves to the proffered mineral water, Knox and Mariner hovered on the fringes doing what they did best - watching people. Rachel was working the room expertly, though she looked drawn and tired. There must have been a hundred people there at least, and it was her task to go through the same routine with them all. Mariner’s eyes roamed constantly, but Coleman wasn’t here. Assistant Chief Constable Bennett was, though, and eventually came up to them and shook hands. ‘How’s the inquiry going?’ he asked Mariner.
‘There are a few leads emerging,’ Mariner replied. ‘But nothing yet that stands out, sir. We’re still doing all the leg work.’
‘Well, keep on it. This is one we need to crack, and as quickly as possible, and without dragging up any old skeletons if at all possible, if you get my drift.’ Bennett’s none-too-subtle way of saying he didn’t want the media spotlight casting its beam once more on Ronnie Silvero’s death.
‘Yes, sir.’
Towards the end of the afternoon people began to drift away, and Mariner noticed Rachel for once standing a little apart. Seizing the opportunity, he picked up a glass of sparkling water and swooped in on her. ‘Here.’
Stalked By Shadows Page 14
