‘Which brings us to Rachel herself,’ Mariner said. ‘According to the neighbour, she visits her stepmother every couple of weeks. Given that Nina’s symptoms sound less severe, if she has been poisoned, it’s possible that her stepdaughter could have been doctoring the milk. She’s agreed to give us a sample, but she wasn’t happy about it.’
‘This is beginning to look like a conspiracy,’ said Knox.
‘Among total strangers?’ Millie said. ‘That just doesn’t make sense.’
They were interrupted from further speculation by Mariner’s phone. It was Gail Hudson again. Mariner put the phone on speaker; they all needed to hear.
‘Thought you might like to know, we’ve determined how the thallium was added to the milk,’ Hudson said. ‘Examination of the bottle top exposed a tiny puncture mark the size of a needle, so it was probably injected into the bottles.’
‘That means that it could have been added any time after the milk was bottled,’ Mariner said.
Hudson concurred. ‘Both women were taking doorstep deliveries from dairies, but we’ve established that they were two different ones, so I doubt that the source goes that far back. You’re looking at someone doing this while the bottles are on the doorstep.’
‘Christ, so now it could be anyone,’ said Knox, when Hudson had rung off.
Mariner nodded agreement. ‘Injecting the thallium wouldn’t be that difficult, if you pick your moment. Holding the syringe in your hand, maybe concealed in a pocket; you walk up to the step, stick in the needle, squeeze out the contents, walk away. The whole operation could be undertaken within half a minute, and we’ve already seen that Lucy Jarrett’s ground floor is pretty well concealed by the shrubs in the garden.’
‘It’d be early in the morning before many other people are around, too,’ Millie pointed out. ‘Depending when Nina and Lucy are up and about, there could be a window of at least a couple of hours when the milk is sitting on the step just waiting to be doctored.’
‘Easy to invent a cover story too,’ said Knox. ‘Like, putting something through the door on the way to work.’
‘Pity we’ve got no CCTV in either of those areas,’ said Mariner.
‘And does this make Bonnington the favourite again?’ Knox wondered.
‘It must do,’ said Millie. ‘He’s the one we’ve got most evidence against, and he’s the handiest.’
‘Although realistically the milk tampering could be any of them; Rachel Hordern, Susan Brady, Kerrigan, the Hughes family,’ Mariner reminded her.
‘Bonnington’s the strongest, though.’
‘But, apart from that fingerprint, we still don’t have anything to connect him to Nina Silvero,’ Knox pointed out. ‘Or to give us a motive for her.’
‘So we should let him go,’ Millie said.
‘All in good time,’ Mariner said. ‘There’s something we’re missing here.’
‘Why don’t we look at it the other way round?’ said Knox. ‘The only person who really fits the stalking scenario is someone out for revenge. Who have Lucy and Nina both wronged?’
Millie snorted. ‘That’s a great question when we can’t even find any common ground between them. Both Lucy and Rachel Hordern went to independent schools but not the same one. Paul Copeland and Ronnie Silvero were both in the Masons but not in the same Lodge. They both worked on the Hughes case, but not at the same time.’
‘And as far as we know Paul Copeland did nothing to upset the Hughes family,’ said Mariner.
‘They’re both prematurely dead,’ Knox offered.
‘But for different and transparently non-suspicious reasons. Anything come of the list of parents from the dancing school?’
‘Nothing that I could find,’ said Knox. ‘The ones I’ve spoken to all seem pretty shocked by what’s happened.’
‘Lucy Jarrett definitely wasn’t involved in that?’ Mariner asked Millie.
‘No. She was a cheerleader at school but she never had formal lessons.’
They all sat for a moment, each lost in thought, trying to find a way out of the conundrum.
‘What we need to do is catch the poisoner in the act,’ said Millie suddenly. ‘So far the only one of our suspects who knows Lucy is in hospital is Will, and it seems to me that we’ve more or less ruled him out now.’ She looked to Mariner for affirmation, which he gave. ‘So why can’t we send a decoy back with Will, to send out the message that Lucy’s home and everything’s normal, set up surveillance op, and just wait until the poisoner strikes again. Dr Hudson said that it’s probably a weekly occurrence, so it wouldn’t have to go on for ever.’
‘It’s a bit close to Bonnington. What if he runs into our decoy?’ Knox said.
‘Maybe we don’t even need the decoy,’ Mariner said. ‘We still have Bonnington here. All we need to do is get Lucy’s car back on the drive and, if Will draws the upstairs curtains, it will give the impression that Lucy’s ill in bed, which is the line he can give if anyone asks. Whoever is doing the poisoning would expect that, after all. Then we can let Bonnington go.’ He had been about to dismiss the idea as far-fetched but the more Mariner thought about it, the more sense it seemed to make. It was frighteningly simple.
‘I still think we should go with the decoy,’ said Millie. ‘We’re not certain that it’s Bonnington, so we don’t know who else might be watching the house.’ It was a fair point.
‘Tony?’
‘It’d be easy enough to do,’ Knox said. ‘I think it’s not a bad idea.’
‘OK then. Millie, you contact Will and explain what’s going on. He needs to get his story straight from the outset. Tony, you need to get in touch with the dairies and check the timing of the deliveries.’ Now all Mariner had to do was sell it to the DCI.
‘We’re going round in circles with everything else,’ Mariner told Sharp a little later. ‘This would be a way of settling it quickly and decisively.’
‘What would it involve?’ Sharp was understandably dubious; she was thinking of the budget.
‘Martin Bonnington is still one of our suspects,’ Mariner said. ‘So when we let him go we’ll send Will home in Lucy’s car with our decoy; a female officer who roughly resembles Lucy. Once in the house, Will closes the bedroom curtains and the story is that Lucy has gone down with a bug and is ill in bed. The decoy can then leave the house at an appropriate time under cover of darkness. Knox has checked the milk delivery time, which is between three and four, Monday to Friday, so all we need then is surveillance on the front of Lucy’s house during that time and a few hours either side, along with a couple of officers on the ground to make an arrest. We’d start the early hours of Monday morning.’
‘There’s going to be a lot of movement,’ Sharp said. ‘Are you sure you can keep this covert?’
‘It’s small scale,’ Mariner said. ‘As long as we’re observant and we use the opportunities presented by visitors to the house, I think we can handle it, ma’am. Meanwhile, we keep following up the other leads and, if nothing has happened within the week, we call it off.’ Mariner knew that the prospect of it being a short-term surveillance would make it a more attractive proposition, and Sharp took the bait.
‘OK. If you can find a suitable officer to pose as Lucy, you can give it a go. But only for a week, and then we review it.’
The first thing to do was to release Martin Bonnington, who was clearly bemused about what was going on. Millie had already identified an officer, and PC Jodie Ryan was a willing volunteer. Friday was spent briefing her, after which she and Will returned to Hill Crest, in Lucy’s car. The surveillance team of two uniformed officers, rota’d in with Millie, Knox, Charlie Glover and Mariner from CID for the surveillance, would arrive at the house each evening, under cover of darkness. For now Lucy Jarrett was safe, and at the end of Friday Mariner suggested that they all take the weekend off and prepare for a busy week ahead.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mariner’s first task on Saturday morning was to collect his new glasses. The
y were fine - basic wire frames - though they made him look older, he thought, and increased his resemblance to his late father. Now he’d just have to get into the habit of wearing them. Already he could anticipate the jibes in the station on Monday morning.
They were tucked in his pocket as he walked back up Corporation Street, and without them he almost made his usual old mistake. The woman up ahead of him looked from the back exactly like Anna. Same build, same hair-style and colour. But this time he wasn’t about to make an arse of himself. Allowing himself a smile, he turned to note the traffic prior to crossing the road, when a voice from behind halted him.
‘Tom?’ She had turned and was looking right at him. Christ, it was Anna. And she looked so happy to see him. He thought his heart would explode from his chest. ‘How are you?’ she was asking.
‘I’m fine.’ Recovering from the shock, Mariner stepped nearer, fighting the urge to throw his arms round her. ‘What are you doing here?’
She inclined her head towards Brackleys department store. ‘Got a meeting with the wedding planner.’ She smiled.
Mariner’s smile remained fixed in place. His facial muscles seemed to have frozen. ‘Wow. Congratulations,’ he managed to say.
‘Oh, God, not for us!’ Anna shrieked, playfully smacking his arm. ‘That would be a bit premature. It’s for Charles and Lottie, you remember them? Lottie wanted some support so I agreed to come, but this is clearly the season to arrange weddings because so far all we’ve done is wait in a massive queue, so I’ve popped out to do a couple of things, while Charles is being measured for his suit.’
‘Have you got time for coffee or something?’ Mariner asked, weak with delight.
‘Yeah, I probably could steal away for a few minutes. Let me just text Lottie to let her know.’ And she tucked her arm into his as they walked.
They ended up at one of the many new eating places in the Bull Ring and sat overlooking the concourse that led down to St Martin’s church; two cappuccinos between them. It was just metres from here that they’d both been caught in an explosion that had ripped through the church, nearly eighteen months before. Mariner wondered if she’d thought about that. ‘How long have you got?’ he asked.
‘Hours, I would think. I know what these wedding people are like. They’ll want to know the ins and outs of -’
‘- the cat’s behind,’ said Mariner finishing off one of her favourite expressions. He felt heady from the look of her and the faint smell of her perfume and had to consciously restrain himself from touching her. ‘I was gutted for a minute there, you know, when I thought it was you and Gareth.’
Anna smiled. ‘I could see that. You haven’t got any better at disguising your feelings.’
‘So, how’s it going, the two of you?’ The words almost choked him.
‘It’s fine.’ She picked up her spoon and skimmed a little froth off her coffee, unable to quite meet Mariner’s eye. ‘We’re um -’
‘What?’
‘We’re taking it slowly, you know?’ Her reply was careful, measured.
Mariner was euphoric, and for several seconds he had the wild idea of suggesting they get a room in a hotel. ‘How’s Jamie?’ he asked to distract himself from that thought.
‘He’s great, doing really well,’ she said. ‘I mean, he’s still autistic, and he still can’t do much for himself, but it was the right thing to move him out to Towyn. The farm community suits him; he’s strong and healthy, and I think he’s happy.’
‘I’m glad,’ Mariner said truthfully, even though it had helped to take her away from him. He knew that Anna had struggled to do the right thing by her younger brother.
‘How’s all the Granville Lane gang?’ she asked.
‘Tony Knox is still seeing his science teacher, Millie is loving married life. The DCI just got engaged.’
‘And Katarina?’
‘Even she’s got a bloke,’ Mariner said ruefully. ‘It’s just me who’s billy no mates.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, poor old you. My heart bleeds. What about Stephanie? Isn’t that her name?’
Mariner was momentarily speechless. ‘What do you know about her?’
‘She called me.’
‘What?’
‘She rang me last week on my mobile. She said that you and she had started going out; she’d realised that I was important to you, and wanted to know just how important. I did think it was a bit strange, but understandable, I suppose.’
‘Christ, she must have picked up your number from my mobile. I thought I was losing my marbles, because she mentioned your name and I felt sure that I hadn’t talked to her about you. What did you tell her?’
‘The truth,’ Anna said, with a shrug. ‘That we were an item, but that now I’m with someone else. She seemed satisfied with that. Is it serious?’
‘No! It’s nothing, it’s finished, I mean, it never was anything; one night plus her imagination,’ Mariner babbled on. ‘I actually thought I had a stalker on my hands at one point but I think she was just lonely.’
He paused. ‘I really miss you,’ he said, his voice catching. ‘I fucked up so badly.’
‘You did,’ she said, holding his gaze. ‘Still, now we’ve both moved on. And who knows how long it would have lasted anyway? Maybe it was for the best.’
Maybe? ‘What if -’
Anna checked her watch. ‘God, I should go back to Lottie,’ she said, gathering her bags. ‘She’ll think I’ve abandoned her.’
Reluctantly, Mariner walked her back to where they’d met.
‘It’s been great to see you.’ Stretching up to kiss his cheek, she rubbed his arm affectionately, her touch lingering, Mariner thought, for a moment longer than necessary. ‘Take care, eh?’
‘You too.’ It was the most he could manage.
‘Byee.’
Mariner watched her disappear through the glass swing doors and into the store. She didn’t look back, but nonetheless he felt a sudden surge of optimism.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Seeing Anna had been a welcome distraction from Mariner’s Sunday undertaking, which was to help Kat to move her things to her new flat. Concealing his disappointment as best he could, he helped her to load up his car with her few boxes of possessions, and drove her over to the flat in Moseley. He was re-running in his head yet again his encounter with Anna when, in a momentary lapse of concentration, he overshot a roundabout.
‘Tom!’ Kat yelled, and Mariner slammed on his brakes just in time. The oncoming driver blared his horn and could clearly be seen mouthing obscenities. Mariner was tempted to get out of the car with his warrant card and teach the bastard a lesson, but he calmed himself, well aware of how these things could escalate. Only a few minutes earlier they’d caught the news headlines, dominated by a couple who had been attacked the previous night.
‘I think your head is in the clouds today,’ Kat said mildly.
‘I saw Anna yesterday,’ Mariner told her.
‘Ah, I think you miss her.’
‘Yes, I do.’
Kat’s new home was compact, modern and airy; a far cry from Mariner’s traditional canalside cottage. It wasn’t what he would have chosen, identical as it was to the hundreds of others in the complex, but it was ideal for a young woman starting out, and Kat was thrilled with it, proudly showing him round everything. Mariner unaccountably got a lump in his throat, but all the same it took him by surprise when she dissolved into tears. ‘I think my mum and dad would like this very much,’ she said suddenly. ‘Is better than the place they live in Tirana.’
Mariner put a comforting hand on her arm. ‘They’d be very proud of you,’ he agreed. ‘But maybe they will get to see it. Are you still thinking of contacting them?’ he asked.
She sniffed. ‘Yes, one day, I think.’
‘In the meantime, lunch.’
Mariner took her to the Selly Park Tavern, then afterwards they went for a blustery walk around Cannon Hill Park, where they walked past the models of the Elan valley dams. It
had rained on and off all day, but there were plenty of families enjoying the park and feeding the ducks. When they returned to her flat, Giles was there, waiting in his car with a big bunch of flowers.
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ Mariner felt suddenly awkward.
‘But you come and see me soon.’ Kat smiled. ‘Is not so far.’ Tentatively she put her arms on his shoulders and hugged him. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered in his ear.
Back home the house seemed very empty without Katarina. Over the years the place had seen a number of lodgers, among them, at one time, Tony Knox. But maybe this had all worked out for the best. Now if Mariner needed to sell up at short notice he could. It would all depend on Anna. OK, she hadn’t outright admitted that things were not going well with Dr Gareth, but he was sure he’d detected some uncertainty there. He still had the contact number for her in Herefordshire. Maybe his next weekend walk would be out there and he’d just ‘drop in’ to see her. He could phone her now and pave the way, but when he tried the number there was no reply. On a Sunday afternoon they’d be in the pub probably, Mariner thought, remembering the very attractive village inn. Still, he had the rest of the week to get hold of her.
The thought of Anna’s local turned him to thinking about a drink. Mariner’s nearest pub, the Boatman, had been recently refurbished, all the rooms knocked into one, children and families welcome. But sometimes desperation prevails and, having grabbed his coat and keys from the hook in the hall, he slammed the door behind him.
Mariner was in reasonable spirits driving in to Granville Lane on Monday morning. The Boatman hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared, the novelty of the new facilities clearly wearing off, and leaving the pub as quiet on a Sunday evening as he had ever known it. He’d even managed a couple of games of dominoes with one of the old regulars. He missed Kat being around, but it didn’t mean that he’d be on his own for long. All that was needed to consolidate this new-found optimism would be for the surveillance op to reap its rewards.
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