Dead of Winter (19 page)

‘I know,’ Fenwick acknowledged, ‘in which case there’s a risk we won’t find the body until the weather changes and we can use the dogs properly. Meanwhile, we have to work on the assumption that she’s alive and that killing his brother wasn’t premeditated, which is important. If he thinks of it as accidental then Steve might not consider himself a murderer and Issie has a better chance of staying alive … for now.’

Norman allocated the rest of the work, making it clear he expected them to continue through the night. He told Bazza to join Darren in checking the CCTV tapes and gave Bernstein additional resources to look for Annie, including despatching someone to the registrar for details of her wedding. They needed her married name and where she had moved to. There was nothing for Fenwick to do.

Norman then announced that the press office was releasing Steven Mariner’s name and car details to the media in time for the ten o’clock news. Fenwick suggested that he add to it a request for Annie to come forward. It might make her life difficult but they were running out of time for Issie.

‘I’d like to raise one more thing, sir,’ Fenwick asked as the team started to stir. ‘Did the Mariners have a local pub where they were regulars?’

‘The Bull and Drum on the A281. I’ve already been there and asked around,’ Cobb explained. ‘Nobody knew anything.’

‘Right,’ Fenwick stared at the retreating back of the officer he considered a jinx.

As soon as he was in his temporary office he rang Bob Cooper’s mobile number, left a message and then tried his home. Cooper’s wife answered sounding breathless.

‘Hello, Doris, it’s Andrew Fenwick,’ he said, forcing bonhomie into his voice in an attempt to defrost the ice he could sense creeping towards him.

‘I suppose you’d like to talk to Bob?’

‘If you don’t mind.’

‘Well I do but since when has that made a difference?’

Such rudeness was a rarity from a lady who had been considered a warm-hearted saint by those who had known her while Bob Cooper had been in the force. Fenwick feared that the favour he was about to ask might not be granted after all. Cooper picked up the phone.

‘Hi, Bob, how are you?’

‘Fine.’ Fenwick heard reserve and caution in his old colleague’s voice.

‘I was wondering …’

‘Not tonight, Andrew. The wife’s got the neighbours round for drinks.’

‘Oh, it’s just that—’

‘I can’t do it, really. I’m not a copper any more and I promised her I’d change my ways.’

‘Is your son there?’

‘Robbie? Yes, but he’s due to go out with his mates.’

‘To a pub? Couldn’t you join him, just for half an hour? That’s all I need.’

‘But I’ll be missed; it’s gone nine!’

‘I understand, Bob, but I need the Cooper nose – just for half an hour. Please; half a pint at a pub that’s less than fifteen minutes from where you are.’

‘I’m begging you, send someone else.’

‘I’ve already tried that and got nothing.’

‘So why do you want me to go?’

‘You don’t look like a detective and you did some of your best work in pubs.’

‘I think I resent that.’

‘People open up to you over a pint, you know it; and Issie’s still missing. Bob, we think we know who’s taken her and where they kept her at first but they’ve moved on and we have to find out where.’

‘And half an hour at some pub or other will do the trick, just like magic? You’re clutching at straws.’

‘Not any old pub, the Bull and Drum.’ Fenwick knew it. The public bar was a dive but they served some of the best locally brewed ales in the area and the lounge bar was usually full of real-ale aficionados. ‘Robbie would probably appreciate a quick drink with his dad.’

‘You reckon I’ll only need half an hour?’

‘Maybe less. The Saxbys are your clients, after all.’

‘I’ll have to check with Dot …’

‘I’m sure she’ll understand.’

‘I doubt it. You’d better not come round here for a while. She’s a sweetie, my wife, but once she loses patience with someone …’ He left the threat unspecified but Fenwick got the message.

A long minute later Bob Cooper confirmed that he and his son had been granted leave of absence to have a quick half pint together. ‘Just a half, mind.’ Fenwick asked him to leave at once. While he was on the way he would call his mobile to brief him on everything they knew or surmised.

Afterwards he decided to go and join Darren, Bazza and the CCTV film team to encourage them along. Fenwick ran down the stairs; he had the night and weekend left to find Issie.

The team had requisitioned all the security tape from around the swimming pool as a matter of course after the failed ransom pickup but it had been a lower priority since news about Mariner’s identity and the body in the caravan had drawn attention elsewhere. He found them sitting in a room equipped with three TV monitors and a bank of DVD and videotape players.

‘Where have you got to?’

‘Nine-twenty. I started just before eight-thirty because that’s when Mariner called from the swimming pool. I’m looking at the
camera footage that covers the main entrance. Darren’s taken the east side camera and Pat the west.’

Photographs of Steven Mariner were taped up beside the TV screens, as were stills from the petrol station. Bazza had been watching the tape in real time; tedious stuff. Fenwick glanced at the detective he now knew was called Pat and saw him briefly press fast forward.

‘Go back.’

Pat jumped and looked over his shoulder.

‘But …’

‘Go back. While we were waiting it started to snow and the light was bad so the images aren’t sharp. Go back to wherever you were tempted to fast forward.’

Pat rewound the tape, his shoulders radiating resentment. On the other side of Bazza Darren continued to watch the images on the screen in real time. It was obvious they weren’t good enough to rush through.

‘Sorry,’ Bazza muttered, ‘I should’ve had my eye on him.’

Fenwick grunted a reply, missing his hand-picked officers from MCS. Minutes ticked past. He had forgotten to blink and his eyes had dried out but he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen in front of him. His stomach rumbled loudly.

‘The canteen will still be open,’ Bazza suggested. ‘Do you want something?’

‘I didn’t have lunch, so yes, anything that can be taken away – preferably something hot.’

‘If you’re in luck they do a killer Cornish pasty.’ Bazza stretched his back, hit pause and looked around. ‘I’ll go if you like. I could murder a cigarette anyway.’

‘That would be great; a pasty or whatever they’ve got plus a coffee and something sweet. Here,’ Fenwick passed him two twenty-pound notes, ‘get something for yourself and the others while you’re at it. I’ll keep watching while you’re gone.’

‘Cheers.’

Bazza sprinted off, perhaps already savouring the nicotine, and
Fenwick took his chair and pressed ‘play’. Nothing happened for ten minutes, then Darren called out.

‘I think I’ve got him! Here at ten-oh-four.’

Fenwick and Pat clustered around, peering at the screen where he was pointing.

‘There, see, the bloke with his back to us and his hood up? That coat looks similar to the one from the petrol station. He’s walking towards the main entrance. He should be coming into your screen next, sir.’

They went back to Fenwick’s station and he forwarded to two minutes before in case the clocks were not synchronised exactly. They watched without speaking as seconds crawled past. At ten-oh-five the man they thought might be Mariner walked into shot. His face was clear; in fact he stopped and looked straight at the camera. Fenwick froze the scene.

‘Gotcha!’ Darren hissed. ‘So why didn’t he complete the pickup. Did he spot us?’

‘I pray to God not.’ It was Fenwick’s dread: a botched operation that might have cost Issie her life. He pressed play, feeling sick to his stomach as he watched Mariner walk towards the waste-paper bin and five hundred thousand pounds.

When he was less than fifteen feet from the bin he was stopped by a man who fist-punched him in greeting.

‘Who the hell is that?’ Darren asked not expecting any answer. ‘An accomplice; maybe the pool drop wasn’t a random choice?’

‘I don’t know.’ Fenwick rewound the tape and put it into frame-by-frame slow motion. ‘No, look at his face; Mariner’s surprised to see him. In fact he looks almost sick. He didn’t expect to meet anyone he knew.’ He let out a deep sigh and felt his gut relax. ‘That’s why he abandoned the pickup. How can he go ahead when someone he knows is watching? The guy’s wearing maintenance overalls, so he might even work at the pool. No way could Mariner pretend to him that he had any business rummaging in the bin.’

‘Why not wait and go back later?’

‘Perhaps he got spooked,’ Pat suggested, ‘he’s not a professional.
It must have taken some balls to turn up, and then to bump into a mate like that – well, it could’ve put him right off.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Fenwick stood up, ‘but we need to find this man urgently. We should be able to get his name from the council; if he works at the pool he’ll have photo id. Get onto it, Darren, at once. Wake up the mayor if you have to. I want us speaking to that man tonight.’

‘They were out of pasties but I’ve got hot sausage rolls, chips and tomato soup, boss.’ Bazza stood proudly in the doorway, smelling of a mix of fried food and cigarette smoke. ‘What’s up? Oh, don’t tell me you found him and I missed it.’

Fenwick laughed for the first time that day as he relieved Bazza of the food.

‘That’s the problem with smoking, Bazza. You miss out on so much in life!’

He didn’t hear Bazza’s response as he was already heading to his office to call Bernstein and Norman in that order. After he had made the calls, he remembered with a stab of guilt that it was too late to go home in time to see the children before bed.

With the weather conditions still bad he decided he might as well spend another night in Guildford. While a civilian assistant found him a room in a nearby Travelodge, Fenwick took a deep breath and dialled. Alice answered at once, as if expecting his call.

‘Andrew, thank goodness, you picked up my messages.’

Fenwick looked at his mobile and saw he had three missed calls.

‘I haven’t listened to them yet. What’s the problem?’

‘It’s your mother. She’s fallen over and is in hospital.’

Fenwick found he was short of breath and had to sit down. They weren’t close but other than the children she was his only living relative.

‘Is she all right?’

‘Better than they feared at first. The poor dear took a nasty tumble on some ice. They thought she’d broken her hip but it turns out it’s only badly twisted. She has a fractured left arm, though, and a mild concussion. Apparently she’s quite bruised about and they’re keeping her in for observation.’

‘Have you got the hospital’s number?’

‘Of course, I left it on your mobile but here, I’ve got it to hand anyway.’

She read it out twice and then said, ‘I’ve taken the liberty to send some flowers and the children have made a card already and it’s in the post to her home.’

‘Thank you, Alice, that’s very thoughtful of you. Can I speak with the children? I know it’s late but I guess they’re still up as there’s no school tomorrow.’

There was a slight pause.

‘Chris is right here beside me. He’s been a real help today, haven’t you, love? He cleared the front step and some of the path like a proper little man. Not that we … er, ventured out; it’s terrible. I won’t drive in this.’

‘No, of course not. Are you all right for food?’

‘Well, I was going to ask if you could bring some fresh bread and milk home with you but don’t worry, we can cope, can’t we Chrissy? I get the feeling you’re not coming home again tonight?’

‘Oh!
’

Fenwick could hear Chris’s disappointed cry in the background.

‘I’m sorry. We’ve just had a break in the case and I’m staying here. There’s a young girl’s life at stake …’

‘Oh that missing school girl? I guessed that’s what’s been keeping you. We said so earlier, didn’t we, Chrissy? Well, you just make sure you find her so that her poor parents have her home safe and sound for Christmas. Here, have a word with your son, he’s desperate to tell you what he’s done today.’

Chris chatted for so long that Fenwick thought he was going to have to interrupt so that he could get back to work, but then he stopped without warning and was about to hang up.

‘Wait a sec, what about a word with your sister; is she there?’

‘She’s not talking to you, Daddy, in fact she’s not talking to anybody. Thank goodness! She’s a real moaning-Minnie at the moment.’

‘Chris, that’s not very kind.’

‘Well, that’s what Alice says and she is too.’

‘Could you go and tell her I’m on the phone anyway?’

‘She knows. She’s been sitting at the top of the stairs pretending not to listen but now she’s gone and shut herself in the bedroom.’

Fenwick suppressed a sigh and wished Chris goodnight, blowing him a kiss without a trace of self-consciousness. As he replaced the receiver his mobile phone rang.

‘Fenwick.’

‘It’s Bob; I’ve just left the Bull and Drum and I’m on my way back home.’

Fenwick glanced at his watch; Bob was going to be in the doghouse.

‘I found someone at the Drum you must speak to; he’s willing to come in and make a statement if you send a car for him – he’s had a couple already and doesn’t want to risk driving. His name is Jeremy Knight, JK to his friends. He was here for a darts tournament and was expecting to meet up with the Mariner brothers. Knows them both really well from school; and, you’ll never guess what …’

‘Tell me.’

‘He saw Steve Mariner today – at the swimming baths! He’s just started work there having lost his job as a printer. Says Mariner was really surprised to see him, didn’t look too well at all and just went off after a couple of minutes. I reckon that’s why he never made the pickup.’

‘You’re right, we have him on CCTV. Describe Knight to me, Bob.’

‘Well, he’s, I don’t know what I’m allowed to say any more, I get that confused with political correctness. He’s of Caribbean extraction – there, is that all right? About five ten, fit – athletic, even – same age as Steven Mariner.’