Stalked By Shadows

by Chris Collett

  But the lack of activity suited Mariner very well, allowing him the peace and quiet to mull over what Jack Coleman had told him and, equally significant, Coleman’s mood. He’d remained studiously objective about the death of the prisoner, though not without some sympathy for the family, but he was right about the timing. Could the attack on Nina Silvero really hark back to something that happened twenty years ago? As Tony Knox had pointed out, Nina Silvero had been afraid of something. But, if it related to that death in custody, why now? At the very least it was a possibility that would need to be ruled out. And it would be interesting to know what the dead man’s family were doing now.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  On his way home, Mariner considered picking up a DVD, but decided to consult Kat first on what she might like to watch. They could get a takeaway to go with it. But Kat had other plans. He arrived back to find her all dressed up and hunting around for her bag.

  ‘You’re going out again,’ Mariner said, stating the obvious. ‘With Giles?’

  ‘Yes, we go to Broad Street.’

  ‘Is he picking you up?’ Mariner asked hopefully.

  ‘No, I get the bus.’

  ‘I can take you,’ Mariner said impulsively. ‘If you can wait while I get changed. I’m meeting someone too.’

  Kat smiled. ‘A woman?’

  ‘It’s work,’ Mariner said vaguely, cutting that one off at the pass. Anything else and he’d be committed to the full post-mortem the following day. ‘Where are you meeting Giles?’

  ‘Mambo’s; is a bar on Broad Street.’

  She waited, and a little later Mariner joined the line of taxis flooding into the city centre, their passengers heading for Saturday-night entertainment. After dropping Kat off by the Hyatt, Mariner turned into Gas Street and parked in the first multi-storey he came to. Bearing in mind Millie’s remarks the previous night about blending in, he’d worn a short-sleeved shirt, which he pulled outside the waistband of his jeans. It took ten years off him, but getting out of the car he shivered as the easterly wind cut right through him. He made his way back to Broad Street. He’d never heard of Mambo’s and had to ask directions. Once he’d located the bar, he waited till a large and noisy group of young men was going in, and hooked on to the back of them, hoping that, if Kat was still there, he would see her before she saw him.

  The place was packed and dimly lit which both hindered and helped his cause, but Mariner was able to secure a spot at the end of the bar with his back to the wall that gave him a wide view through the heaving mass of bodies. Finally he saw Kat, and in the nick of time too, as she was on her way out, being shepherded through the crowds by Giles, his guiding hand at her back. Mariner followed them as best he could, weaving a path through the closely packed bodies. Out on Broad Street the crowds thinned a little, though gangs of youths and young women cluttered up the pavement, some of them already the worse for drink. Mariner was grateful that Giles was tall and he was able to follow the dark mop of hair back in towards Brindley Place. Then suddenly Giles ducked into a doorway and Mariner followed, descending a dark stairway in their wake and into his idea of hell.

  The club was dark, but for a web of laser beams and a cinema-sized flat screen on one wall showing random images cut from old news footage of the sixties; flower power and mushroom clouds, JFK on a grin and grip. The music was a heavy dance beat that battered his ear drums and Mariner stood back and watched as Giles and Kat joined the mass of people thrashing in the middle of the room. Mariner’s dancing had never been up to much and he couldn’t help envying someone like Giles who could throw himself into the music with such abandon while still looking pretty cool. Mariner couldn’t help wondering what he might be fuelled on. Kat was more restrained, a little dazed, Mariner thought, but she still moved well. For a while Mariner was mesmerised, but, when his back started to ache from standing in one place for too long, he strained to see his watch. He’d been here more than two hours tracking their movements between the dance floor and the bar, and so far it had been a total waste of time.

  He was about to give up, when suddenly the whole enterprise became worthwhile. Kat had retired from the dance floor for a drink and was standing to one side, leaning, as Mariner was, against the wall, sipping her drink and watching the revellers. Giles had disappeared, but returned after a few minutes. He towered over Kat as she leaned in against him and their faces got close as they seemed to be talking about something. Then, as Mariner watched, Giles shifted his position to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket.

  He opened it and took out a small packet, from which he shook something into the palm of his hand, closing his fingers around it, as he replaced his wallet. Giles held out his hand for Kat to see. Looking up at him, she nodded and Mariner watched as she picked up the item from Giles’ palm between finger and thumb, threw back her head and stood poised to drop it into her mouth. In seconds, Mariner had covered the ground between them, shoving aside anyone and anything in his path, and grabbed Kat’s arm before she could swallow the pill.

  Giles was big but Mariner had outrage and intent on his side. ‘You, outside, now!’ he spat in Giles’ face and, seizing the young man’s arm, launched him towards the exit, vaguely aware of Kat trailing helplessly behind them. Mariner propelled Giles up the dark stairwell, battling against the downward surge, and out on the street where it seemed blissfully cool and quiet. Retaining his firm grip, Mariner dragged Giles into a side alley, slamming him none too gently against the wall.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Giles demanded, though Mariner could see the fear in his face.

  Kat looked terrified. This was a side of him that she’d never seen. ‘What are you doing, Tom?’ she pleaded.

  ‘Tom?’ Giles was incredulous. ‘Fuck it. You’re Tom Mariner?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Tom Mariner actually,’ Mariner said evenly. ‘You just chose the wrong customer to screw with.’ Mariner drew out his warrant card. ‘I’m arresting you for the possession of a Class A drug with intent to supply.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You do not have to say anything -’

  ‘It’s not a fucking Class A, you moron,’ Giles cut him off. ‘It’s a paracetamol!’

  His indignation was enough to make Mariner waver for a second.

  ‘I have a headache,’ Kat wailed in corroboration, tugging on Mariner’s arm. ‘Giles is give it to me for the pain, and then we go home.’

  Putting his face close to Giles’, Mariner hissed. ‘Don’t you dare move.’ Then, relaxing his hold on the young man just a little, he fished in his pocket for the small torpedo-shaped pill that he’d taken from Kat. He held it in the light cast from the street lamp, to examine it more closely. It did look bigger than any ecstasy tablets he’d seen before. And it did appear to have the letter ‘P’ stamped on the side.

  ‘I can show you the rest,’ Giles offered.

  Reluctantly taking his arm off the boy’s chest, Mariner nodded acquiescence. Giles took out his wallet once more and retrieved from it a small blister pack, the foil backing imprinted with the name and logo of a national high-street pharmacy. He passed it to Mariner. There was a single empty compartment and Mariner opened a second to reveal a pill identical to the one he was already holding.

  ‘It’s as Kat said,’ Giles told him calmly. ‘She had a headache, so she was going to take that and then we were calling it a night.’

  For the first time Mariner looked carefully at Giles and tried to weigh him up. What he said didn’t seem entirely implausible. And embarrassing as it might be, his gut feeling was that Giles was telling the truth. He fished in another pocket for the evidence bag he’d brought for this very eventuality and slipped in the pill and the blister pack. ‘Well, I won’t arrest you this time, but I will be getting this tested, to make sure what you’re saying is true. And I wouldn’t leave the city any time soon.’

  ‘I wasn’t planning to,’ Giles snorted. ‘You can suit yourself of course, but that won’t contain anything you can’t bu
y over the counter. I gave all that up a long time ago.’ He shot Mariner a meaningful glance, well aware that he’d been checked up on. ‘Look, I don’t really understand what you are to Kat, but you should know that I really like her and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.’ Stepping away from the wall, he slipped a protective arm around Kat. ‘You want to go home, sweetheart, don’t you?’

  ‘She can come with me,’ said Mariner, looking across at Kat, ‘if you like. I mean, I’ve got the car here anyway, so you may as well -’

  Giles looked at Kat who nodded, and Mariner had to stand by and watch them hug and kiss, before he bid an awkward goodnight to Giles. In normal circumstances he might have shaken the man’s hand but somehow on this occasion it didn’t seem quite appropriate.

  Leaving the buzz of Broad Street behind them, Mariner and Kat walked back to the car park in painful silence. Not until they were driving out of the city along Bristol Street could Mariner bring himself to venture grudgingly, ‘I’m sorry, I spoiled your night.’

  Kat was looking away from him and out of the window. ‘Is OK. Is like Giles say. I want to go home soon anyway. My head is bad.’

  The silence recommenced, and continued all the way out to Kingsmead. Mariner pulled up outside the house and cut the engine. They sat for several seconds not moving.

  ‘Giles is a nice guy,’ Kat said suddenly.

  ‘I’m sure he is,’ said Mariner, still smarting from having made such an idiot of himself.

  ‘He knows what happened to me. I tell him all about it. He understands.’

  ‘Where did you meet him?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘At a cancelling group.’

  It took Mariner a few seconds to decipher what she meant. Finally he got it. ‘A counselling group?’ he said.

  ‘Yes. Is for rape victims. I go there every week.’

  Wow. ‘I didn’t know that,’ Mariner said. ‘So Giles is a counsellor?’

  ‘No.’ Mariner was still working it out when she added quietly, ‘Giles is raped too, when he was a boy.’

  Sunday dawned grey and drizzly. By mid-morning Kat still hadn’t surfaced, for which Mariner was grateful. And he decided that the best policy might be to stay out of her way, the truth being that he was embarrassed to face her. After putting on his walking boots and waterproof jacket, he opened the back door of his house and stepped out on to the canal towpath. Today, with the absence of any sunlight, the air was tangy with damp vegetation. Mariner followed the canal for a mile or so until it cut through the Primrose Hill estate, where he surfaced and picked up the footpath taking him out into the countryside skirting the Blues training ground and on to the North Worcestershire Way. Out in the open fields the mud stuck to his boots, making them heavier with every stride. The Peacock at Wetheroak was packed with families noisily enjoying a late Sunday lunch, so Mariner had a quick half and then walked home again. When he got back to the house Kat had gone out, and thus they successfully avoided one another for the whole day.

  Millie had been visiting her in-laws in Dudley, where Suli was helping his brothers with some decorating to the family home. Dal was going to drop him off later, leaving Millie free to go home in the evening. Driving up through Northfield, she realised she was not far from Lucy Jarrett’s, and wondered what kind of a weekend she’d had. Millie was pretty sure that Will was away. She’d also been driving around with her own wedding snaps in her car for a couple of days, with a view to taking them round to Lucy sometime; awkward to fit that in with professional concerns. But perhaps tonight would be a good opportunity. Having taken a slight detour along the Bristol Road, she turned into Lucy’s estate.

  Although there was no transit van on Lucy’s drive, there was another car tucked in behind Lucy’s Mercedes, and when Millie rang the doorbell she was surprised to hear music coming from inside the house, as if a party had already started. And for once, when she came to the door, Lucy was smiling, glass of wine in her hand.

  ‘Hi.’ Millie smiled brightly, and held up the photo album. ‘I’ve brought pictures, but it looks like you’re busy. If you want me to come back another time . . .?’

  Lucy’s hesitation was momentary and her smile returned, if a little tightly, as she stepped back to let Millie in. ‘No, that’s great, Julie-Ann’s already here. You can join the party.’

  Millie followed Lucy through to the kitchen. There was something she had to confess to before they could relax. ‘We went to see Will’s band,’ she said.

  ‘I know.’ It was said with feeling and Millie had a sudden sense of foreboding.

  ‘Will told you?’

  ‘Yes, just before he stormed out again, accusing me of suspecting him,’ Lucy said pointedly.

  Shit. ‘Oh, Lucy, I’m sorry, that was my mistake. I thought it would be a good idea for us to let him know that we were keeping an eye on things, making sure that you were OK, especially since he’s away such a lot. He obviously didn’t take it that way.’ Millie wondered again where it was that Will stormed off to. It seemed to be a habit of his.

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ Lucy said, leaving Millie to wonder if she’d given any thought to why that might be. But she had to keep Lucy on side, so she said nothing more. ‘And he was furious that you’d taken the computer.’

  ‘Well, we should be able to let you have that back soon.’

  ‘Did you find anything?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘We’re still following up on the spam,’ Millie said, suddenly aware that she’d let that slide.

  ‘So what did you think?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Of?’

  ‘The band?’

  ‘They’re good,’ Millie said truthfully. ‘I mean, not really my kind of thing, but Will’s obviously a talented musician - they all are. And that young woman - Tess, was it? She’s got a great voice.’

  ‘Yes, she has, hasn’t she? Anyway, what would you like to drink?’

  ‘Have you got a coke or something? I’m driving.’

  Lucy retrieved a can from the fridge and poured it into a glass.

  ‘Forgiven?’ Millie asked, taking it from her. ‘Believe me; I was only trying to help.’

  Lucy smiled, this time a warm and open smile. ‘You are forgiven, DC Khatoon. Cheers.’

  Julie-Ann appeared and regarded Millie warily. ‘Hey, what’s going on?’

  Lucy grinned. ‘All the best parties happen in the kitchen. But, yeah, let’s go somewhere more comfortable.’ She picked up the wine bottle and led them into the lounge.

  ‘This a bit above and beyond, isn’t it?’ Julie-Ann said to Millie. ‘I’m impressed.’ Though Millie got the distinct feeling that the opposite was true.

  ‘I was just bringing Lucy up to date,’ Millie said. ‘We met one of Will’s fans the other night.’

  ‘Oh, not Sally!’ shrieked Lucy, plonking herself down on the sofa, and curling her legs underneath her.

  ‘You know about her?’ Millie asked, taking an armchair across from her and Julie-Ann.

  ‘Yes, Will thinks it’s hilarious. The poor woman’s obsessed.’

  ‘Has he ever been concerned about her?’

  ‘No, it’s just a joke.’ Lucy stopped in her tracks. ‘You don’t think she . . .?’

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ said Millie, staying casual. ‘No more than that. I agree that on the face of it she seemed harmless. I’ll probably go and talk to her. Where’s the band playing tonight?’ she asked, to change the subject.

  ‘Oh, they’re up in the north, Will called me from Bolton.’

  And from that point the talk of the investigation ceased, and, thanks to a bottle of Merlot or two, Julie-Ann seemed to relax and Millie saw a whole new side to Lucy. When she let her hair down, she and Julie-Ann were wild together. They drooled over Millie’s photographs, and listened sympathetically to her account of her rocky relationship with her parents which had all come right in the end.

  ‘I need a man,’ said Julie-Ann, as they finished Millie’s pictures. ‘Here’s both of you settled down and I haven’t even
got a bloke.’

  ‘Millie’s boss is pretty hunky,’ Lucy said drunkenly.

  Millie pulled a face. ‘He’s all right, but hunky isn’t really a word I’d use.’

  ‘Oh, he is. He’s tall, slim, still got all his own hair.’ She turned to Millie. ‘Unless you know something I don’t?’

  Smiling, Millie shook her head.

  ‘You’d really like him, Jules,’ Lucy went on. ‘A bit on the serious side, but he’s got these amazing blue eyes. Is he married?’

  Millie sighed. ‘No, as a matter of fact he’s not, but I think he might be seeing someone.’

  ‘Serious?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s none of my business really.’

  ‘There we are then,’ Lucy said triumphantly. ‘We could fix you two up. What’s his name again?’

  ‘Tom Mariner.’

  ‘Tom and Julie-Ann, Julie-Ann and Tom. Yes, I like it.’ And to Millie’s great relief she seemed content with that.

  What Julie-Ann and Lucy had in common was their shared history and inevitably they got around to reminiscing.

  ‘Your mum showed me all your cheerleading trophies,’ Millie said.

  Lucy cringed. ‘The burden of being an only child,’ she groaned. ‘Mum collects and archives everything. She and Dad must have recorded my every breath from the time I was born. Did she take you up to the spare room? It’s entirely taken up with photo albums. And those trophies really should go.’

  ‘No!’ Julie-Ann cried. ‘They remain a shrine to your achievements. The cheerleading was so much fun!’

  ‘How on earth did you get into it?’ Millie asked, knowing that nothing like that ever went on at her own school.

  ‘We came up with it ourselves,’ said Lucy. ‘They had some cheerleaders on Blue Peter or something, so we decided to set up our own troop.’