Written in Blood (33 page)

That illness. Most of what Mariner had learned about Diana Ryland pertained to her frail mental state. It wasn’t publicly known and yet everyone he’d spoken to about her had mentioned it. Euphemistically of course - Diana was fragile or delicate, but Mariner couldn’t help wondering how that delicacy manifested itself. He’d had taken it to mean that she was easily stressed, highly strung, but what if it were something more? Norman Balfour had cited her poor health as the reason why the Rylands hadn’t had children. And it was recurrent problem, from the breakdown in her student days up until the time of Rose’s funeral.
‘Diana was unwell again, the past coming back to haunt them in other ways,’
Eleanor Ryland had said.

Dave Flynn had talked about the quantity of valium they’d found at the Ryland’s house. And valium could be addictive. Was this the skeleton in the Ryland cupboard, that Diana Ryland had a drug dependency problem? Ryland was his wife’s guardian, but what lengths would he go to in order to protect her from publicity about her illness. Would he go as far as submitting to blackmail?

Mariner needed to find out more about Diana. Norman Balfour would, he felt, be of little help. He was, by his own admission, a friend and would be more likely to shield her memory from unfavourable publicity. The person who might be more honest was the frank-talking Fliss, and Mariner regretted not finding out where she was staying. Fortunately for him the animal rescue centre had contact details and directed him to a country hotel not far from Eleanor’s house. Ringing reception, Mariner was put through to her room. ‘Ms Fitzgibbon, this is Tom Mariner. We met at the animal rescue centre.’

‘You’ve decided to take Nelson?’ She was delighted.

‘No. I’m sorry. Ms Fitzgibbon I didn’t just happen on you that day. I’d planned to speak to you.’

‘Oh?’ She was intrigued, not surprised.

‘You’re not in any danger. It’s just . . . I’m Sir Geoffrey Ryland’s illegitimate son.’

Silence at the other end of the phone. Mariner was beginning to get used to these many and varied reactions. ‘I know it must be a shock. But believe me, it’s true. I’ve DNA proof.’

‘Well, well. I knew you existed.’

‘You did?’

‘You were one of the family’s best kept secrets.’

‘I’m also a police officer and I’ve been, unofficially, looking into his death and your sister’s. I’m feel certain that something has been overlooked.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know yet, but I’m just trying to cover everything. I wanted to ask you about your sister’s health. Is there somewhere we could meet?’

‘Why don’t you come here for dinner?’

When they met early that evening in the plush restaurant of the hotel, Mariner could see that Fliss Fitzgibbon was looking at him differently. ‘My nephew,’ she said, ‘by marriage, anyway. How strange to meet you after all this time. ‘When did you learn that Geoff was your father?’

‘A few weeks ago.’

‘Do you hate him?’

Mariner replied carefully. ‘It’s one of the emotions I’ve experienced during the last few weeks. I can’t deny it. But now I just think he was a victim of his time, manipulated by people he thought were older and wiser.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it. Shall we eat?’

It was the kind of country hotel specialising in the accommodation of wealthy tourists, where the food was beautifully arranged but left Mariner still hungry. Despite that, the restaurant was doing a brisk business.

‘I’m not sure that there’s much I can tell you about Diana,’ said Fliss Fitzgibbon, when they had ordered. ‘At least, nothing that would be relevant to how she and Geoff were killed.’

‘I’m just trying to piece things together, and Diana’s illness is something that everyone mentions, but no one talks about, if you see what I mean.’

She gave a light laugh. ‘You’ve got that exactly right,’ she said. ‘But I don’t see how—’

‘I think Sir Geoffrey was being blackmailed,’ Mariner said.

‘Blackmail? That’s quite an assertion to make.’

‘Over a period of eighteen months Sir Geoffrey was making regular cash payments to an unknown person or persons, or rather his assistant was on his behalf. It was done in the guise of a betting scam.’

‘Geoff wasn’t a gambling man.’

‘So I’ve been told, which is one of the things that makes me believe it was blackmail. The arrangement was causing him some distress, and he tried unsuccessfully to end it just the week before he was killed. It’s possible that it was related to Diana’s illness, though I’m not yet sure how.’

‘Diana would have been so ashamed for people to know about her problems. Mental illness is the last taboo, don’t you think? Geoff would have done anything to protect her from that.’

‘That’s what I thought. I know this may be painful, but what can you tell me about it?’

‘Even I don’t know all the details. We’re going back a long way. Things first came to a head when I was about nine, it would have been the summer of 1962, although Diana hadn’t been herself for some time before that. It was university that seemed to do it. Diana did well at school. She wasn’t a brilliant scholar but she pushed herself hard and got into Oxford to study law.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Not many people do. My parents, especially my father, were incredibly proud of her. But she didn’t stay the course. She came home again before the end of her first term. I don’t know if she couldn’t keep up academically or if she simply couldn’t cope with the rough and tumble of student life. Whatever it was, it had destroyed her confidence. After that she seemed to get very depressed, crying at the slightest thing. I think she felt she had let everyone down.

‘I was away at boarding school by then, and whereas on previous holidays I’d had a good time with my big sister, suddenly we were all treading on eggshells around her. Selfish little brat that I was, I merely felt resentful that Dizzy was no fun any more. I remember those particular Christmas and Easter holidays vividly. Easter was especially bad. Then shortly after that she had a complete breakdown. Not that I witnessed anything. I was back at school.’ A single tear broke loose and ran down her cheek.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mariner said. ‘If this is too upsetting—’

She took a deep breath. ‘No, it’s fine. When I got home for the summer Diz wasn’t there. She’d been sent away to the country to recuperate. Later I learned that she’d tried to take her own life. It was hushed up of course and never talked about at the time. Any kind of mental illness wasn’t something families, especially our kind of family, admitted to. A few months after that my father died of a heart attack. Family lore has it that it was brought on by the stress of what had happened to Dizzy, but either way it was a horrible time for us and, even if it wasn’t true, I know she blamed herself. The next time I saw her was at Daddy’s funeral and I hardly recognised her. She was wasting away before our eyes, like those anorexic girls you see in the papers. Then in a matter of months she had met Geoffrey and they were planning to get married. Geoff literally saved her life.’

‘And did Diana have any further episodes?’

‘Yes. She went through a bad patch just before Geoff resigned as an MP. Dizzy was always prone to depression, and she always wore long sleeves.’

That significance was lost on Mariner and his face must have betrayed him.

‘When she couldn’t cope she used to cut herself,’ Fliss said. ‘Poor Diana, she was so sweet and gentle. Too good for this world really.’

‘Do you remember any recent recurrences?’ Mariner asked, thinking that the wine they were drinking seemed exceptionally strong. His head felt slightly detached from the rest of him. It was very warm in here, too. He loosened his tie.

‘I think something might have happened last summer, about eighteen months ago. I was planning to come over for a visit, but quite suddenly Geoff called and asked me to postpone.’

‘Have you any idea what it was?’

‘It sounded serious. Geoff said that Dizzy wasn’t up to receiving visitors. It crossed my mind that she may have attempted suicide again, though I don’t know why. Not something that Geoff would have wanted broadcast, especially in the position he was in by then. It would have made him politically vulnerable. By the law of statistics there must be hundreds of people in public life who are affected by mental illness in some form or another, but it’s rarely talked about, is it? I sometimes wonder if Diana would have been helped if they’d started a family. I’m sure it would have taken her mind off things, and she loved children.’ It was a different opinion from Norman Balfour. Mariner wondered who was most accurate.

‘Diana took medication for her illness,’ he said. ‘Is it possible that she could have developed a drug dependency problem, on prescription drugs I mean?’

‘She was on medication for a long time, never went anywhere without her little green bag.’

As Mariner had surmised, it would have been easy to exploit Diana’s illness for financial gain. Not everyone was thrilled about what Ryland was doing at the Commission. Perhaps someone was hoping to use it as a way of getting him out, too. But who else knew about her condition? Even Diana’s own sister’s knowledge was sketchy. There would be medical records of any treatment she had received in the past, and Diana would have been treated by a team of medical professionals while she was ill. Had one of them seen an opportunity for extortion, or been got at by someone who did?

‘Do you know where Diana went to recuperate when she was first ill?’

‘I don’t think I was ever told. All I recall is that it was in the country where the clean air would be beneficial to her health. I think it was somehow church related too, like some religious retreat. Our Lady of Lourdes is something that comes back to me but I might be off beam with that. Norman might know of course.’ Their main course arrived, but the fleshy slices of duck, swimming in crimson plum sauce made Mariner feel slightly queasy. ‘So there you have it, the dirty linen in our closet. Has it helped?’

‘Sometimes having the background makes sense of other things.’

‘You’ve discussed this with your colleagues?’

‘I’ve only just arrived at it myself,’ Mariner said. ‘My colleagues also believe that I’m not functioning well at the moment. I should also tell you that as the last person to see her alive, I’m on the list of possibles for Eleanor’s murder, but I hope you can believe that I didn’t do it. You’re the only person who can help me.’ As a wave of nausea struck Mariner found himself clutching her wrist.

Smiling uncertainly, Fliss gently removed his hand. ‘What would you like me to do?’

‘It would help to find out as much as possible about the treatment Diana had, this retreat that she stayed at when she was first ill and anything that’s happened since. Could you see if there’s anything in her personal papers that makes reference to it?’ Mariner squinted at her. Her face seemed to be blurring at the edges and wouldn’t keep still.

‘It’s going back a long time, but I’ll try. I’m rather intrigued myself. Where can I contact you?’

Mariner gave her his business card. This wine was potent stuff. The room was moving around him as if he’d stepped onto a merry-go-round. ‘I think I need some air,’ he said, getting to his feet. But when he tried to walk out of the restaurant his legs seemed to have liquefied.

 

Mariner’s mobile phone ringing close by roused him, and in the semi-darkness he scrambled over the floor trying to locate his jacket. He had a moment of disorientation as he put the phone to his ear. It was Anna. ‘Where are you?’

Good question. He was still wearing his shirt but could see his trousers hanging over the back of a chair. He scanned the room and in the half-light something on the bed moved lazily in her sleep and then he remembered. Fliss Fitzgibbon. Afraid to consider what might have happened here, Mariner got up and padded into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. His head hurt like hell. ‘I called in at a pub and had a few drinks,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘It didn’t seem a good idea to drive back so I’ve stopped overnight at a place. I’ll be back soon.’

‘Well the case conference starts at eleven, if you’re still planning to come?’

‘Of course I am, I’ll be back well before then.’ Even though it was already nine thirty and up until now it had slipped his mind.

When he went back into the bedroom Fliss Fitzgibbon, wrapped in a beige silk robe, was pulling back the curtains. ‘Feeling better?’ she asked, with a smile. ‘Don’t look so worried, you only spent the night on the couch. After practically passing out on your way outside, I could hardly let you drive home.’

 

But this morning there was no choice. Convincing Fliss that he was fit to do so, Mariner drove back slowly, his head aching and his vision blurring intermittently. It was one of the worst hangovers he’d had in a long time, probably not helped by the fact that he’d declined the offer of breakfast. He couldn’t imagine his stomach holding onto anything for long anyway.