Chris Collett - [Tom Mariner 01] Read Online Free PDF

he’d given Knox the spare front door key to his house and ordered him to go and get a shower and borrow a clean uniform from somewhere, before returning. ‘I’m not breaking the news to the relatives with a tramp.’
    Mariner had worked this routine a hundred times before and was always prepared for shock and anger, even denial Suicide in particular threw up all kinds of powerful and often unwanted emotions. But this one was especially interesting. He couldn’t work out whether Anna Barham really didn’t believe them, or simply didn’t want to. Or did the lady just protest too much? Mariner hadn’t of course over looked the possibility that Anna Barham could herself be involved. A woman had made the emergency call, and not the brunette, why not her, making her reaction partly an elaborate attempt to cover up for her brother? But somehow he didn’t think so. What would be the point? And her initial surprise had seemed genuine enough.
    And there was that newspaper cutting, the list of small ads for personal escort services, leading them in one swift move back to the brunette. Mariner hadn’t changed his view of her and Knox hadn’t appeared to disagree. It was becoming increasingly commonplace for some of the higher-class call girls to supply, and if that was the case it would explain why everything had been left so neat and tidy. A pro would have cleaned up before she left. It could easily have been the way Eddie Barham had planned things, a discreet and distinctly personal service. But even that explanation left one significant outstanding loose end. He was waiting for Anna Barham to come to that.
    Hers was an unusual reaction; indignant and affronted, as if they were wasting her time. And she was taking the whole identification procedure surprisingly in her stride, leaving Mariner considering the dubious possibility that she’d done it before. But he knew better than to make any final judgements at this stage, because death is much the same as life. Everybody handles it in his or her own unique way. Shock can do funny things to people. And right now, as Knox manoeuvred them out into the soupy mid-morning traffic of the Hagley Road, Mariner was content to bide his time. They’d know for sure soon enough.

    The city mortuary on Newton Street was housed in an anonymous-looking square Georgian edifice labelled innocuously enough ‘Coroner’s Office’ by the ubiquitous brass plaque. The sign that had always afforded Mariner a darker satisfaction was the red-topped ‘T’ at the entrance to the street, so fittingly declaring the by-way a ‘dead end’.
    Within the bowels of the building, in a tastefully and sensitively furnished suite of rooms, Anna Barham did, reluctantly, provide them with a positive identification of her brother.
    Afterwards, Mariner carried two beakers of scalding, grey tea from the vending machine to where she sat in what was generally referred to as the recovery lounge. It was a misnomer in most cases, though occasionally relatives managed to regain their outward composure, as Anna Barham seemed to have done. Now faced with the truth, she was clearly shocked, as Mariner would have expected, but still far from being distressed. Instead, she appeared more puzzled and detached as if presented with a conundrum.
    ‘Are you all right?’ Mariner asked anyway ‘
    ‘Yes.’ With a brief nod of thanks, she awkwardly relieved him of one of the flimsy, polystyrene cups. ‘Just can’t believe it.’ Mariner took a seat opposite, and her tawny-brown eyes looked directly into his, steady and unblinking. No avoidance, but no trace of any tears either.
    She read his thoughts. ‘You must think I’m hard.’
    It wasn’t an apology and Mariner only shrugged.
    ‘Everyone reacts differently in these situations,’ he said.
    ‘You’ll probably cry your eyes out when you get home.’
    Anna Barham smiled weakly. Christ, it was a stunning smile. ‘That’s tactful of you,’ she said. ‘But I don’t