Stalked By Shadows (13 page)

Estelle Waters lived in a private flat behind electronic gates, with a security guard who gave Mariner a thorough visual going over before he went in, directing him to the correct one of the three huge blocks. No question here of the lifts not working, and he was elevated smoothly to the fifth floor. Waiting for a response to the doorbell, Mariner could hear the yapping of a small hound, and, as Ms Waters opened the door, a bundle of fur came hurtling out at him, did a couple of circuits of his feet, then bolted back into the flat, where it vanished.

‘You’ve got a good guard dog there,’ Mariner remarked, showing his warrant card.

‘He wouldn’t last five minutes with a burglar.’ Estelle smiled. ‘All bark and no bite. Please, come in, Inspector.’

The apartment smelled of furniture polish and some kind of strong floral scent that Mariner couldn’t identify, and heavy dark-wood furniture and dull soft furnishings rendered it dark and gloomy, but for the impressive views from a wide window over leafy Edgbaston, towards the county cricket ground. Estelle Waters was at odds with her surroundings, dressed as she was in light-grey slacks and a pale-yellow sweater and a pair of flat, trainer-type shoes, as if she was just about to go out and play golf. Her naturally greying hair was cut stylishly short, and her lined face had a light, healthy tan. There was a certain gentility and, when she offered him tea, Mariner just knew that it would be Earl Grey served on a tray, with a teapot and bone china cups. Throughout the interview she clutched a crushed tissue in her fist, releasing it every so often to dab at her eyes and nose.

‘I still can’t believe it,’ she said, when they had settled, Mariner in a hard, overstuffed armchair and she on the sofa opposite.

‘It was you who raised the alarm, I understand,’ Mariner said.

‘Yes, that’s right. Nina and I were supposed to have met for afternoon tea on the Monday, but she didn’t come. She would never miss one of our get-togethers without letting me know why. Then when I rang her house there was no reply, so I knew that something must be badly wrong. I rang around a few people, but no one seemed to have seen or heard from her for a few days. I could have gone round perhaps, but I don’t drive and, whilst it’s not far, it’s not at all a direct journey on public transport. I thought long and hard about contacting your service, Inspector; I’m well aware of the time-wasters you must get, but I felt I was justified.’ She turned her gaze to Mariner, her pale-blue eyes misted with tears. ‘I thought at worst that perhaps she had fallen or something, I had no idea it would turn out to be so awful.’ She brought the tissue to her face to stem the tears.

‘It’s a good thing you were so vigilant,’ Mariner said gently. He sipped his tea before saying, ‘You and Nina were obviously close friends.’

She nodded wordlessly.

‘Were you aware of anything that was bothering her?’

‘I don’t know about
bothering
her,’ said Estelle. ‘She’d suffered a bit of ill health recently, and I think the school was getting her down a bit.’

‘Why do you think that was?’ Mariner asked.

‘It was hard work, and I think was less successful than it had been, but then, getting her MBE, she was thrilled to bits about that. It had given her a real lift. All of us in fact.’ She smiled.

‘All of you?’

‘Three of us meet up regularly; Nina, me and Madge Llewellyn. It’s a bit of silliness really, we call ourselves the “Golden Girls” and we all go out together regularly, dinner and the theatre, that kind of thing. Madge will be devastated when she gets back. I haven’t been able to reach her yet.’

‘She’s away?’

‘Yes, on holiday for a month. She and Donald are doing one of those tours of the United States. Madge was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, but just before Christmas she was given the all-clear, so they’re celebrating.’

‘How did you all meet?’ asked Mariner.

‘Through our husbands; we were thrown together at the same business functions years ago and we just seemed to gel.’

‘So you’ve known each other a long time,’ Mariner observed.

She nodded in agreement. ‘Must be thirty years or more, through thick and thin; my divorce, Madge’s illness. We’ve all supported each other, come what may.’

‘Nina must have been glad of that, eighteen years ago, when her husband died.’

‘Of course, you must have known Ronnie.’

It was, Mariner supposed, a reasonable assumption, from her point of view. ‘I knew of him,’ he said, ‘though we never met. That must have been a difficult time for Nina.’

‘It was awful; those allegations being made at the same time too, and completely unfounded.’

‘You sound very sure of that,’ Mariner said.

‘I knew Ronnie,’ Estelle Waters said simply and Mariner could only admire her blind loyalty.

‘So you must also know Rachel.’

Estelle smiled. ‘Yes, all our kids grew up together really. We used to spend time together as families.’

‘Was Rachel close to her stepmother, would you say?’

‘Oh yes. Nina didn’t have it easy at first, but they grew very close. I think Rachel just regarded her as she would have her natural mother. After all, her own mother wasn’t much of a role model.’ She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ‘Rachel was quite an indulged child, not surprisingly I suppose, being an “only”. We did witness some spectacular tantrums when she was little, if for any reason she couldn’t get her own way. And it was Ronnie who was the indulgent one, perhaps because of what had happened with her mum. Nina was always quite firm and felt that Rachel should stand on her own two feet, whereas Ronnie would have given her anything.’

‘And you can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt Nina like this, for any reason?’ Mariner asked.

‘To be honest, Inspector, I’d be quite horrified to think that anyone I know could be capable of such a dreadful thing,’ Estelle said, her emotions getting the better of her again.

Mariner had one more sensitive area to explore. ‘Nina’s husband had been dead a long time and she was an attractive woman.’ He replaced his empty cup on the tray. ‘Are you aware that she had any male friends?’

Estelle flushed. ‘Not that I knew of, though I suppose it’s possible. She had her admirers, of course, and there was -’

‘What?’

‘It was probably nothing. I ran into her once, some time ago, in town and she was with a man then. She said he was her cousin, but there was something odd about the way she introduced him.’ She paused for a moment, thoughtful. ‘She didn’t tell me his name. I remember thinking at the time that it was peculiar. Normally when you introduce someone you say, “This is my cousin Fred,” don’t you? But she just said, “This is my cousin. He’s staying for a few days.” And I got a definite impression that she couldn’t wait to get away from me.’

‘And you didn’t know who this man might be?’ Mariner asked.

‘No.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Middle aged; about our age, I suppose.’ Mariner hoped by ‘our’ she meant herself and Nina. ‘He was quite tall and thickset, and his hair was dark, but going thin on top. He was well dressed, in a suit I think. In fact, I remember thinking that he looked as if he should be at work, a solicitor perhaps.’

‘And how long ago would this have been?’ Mariner asked.

‘Oh, it was some time. It must have been soon after Ronnie’s death but I can’t be sure. The time goes so fast when you get to our age.’

Mariner stood up to go. ‘Thank you, Estelle, you’ve been very helpful.’

‘You will catch the man who did this, won’t you?’ she asked, seeing him out.

‘I hope so,’ said Mariner. It was the best he could do.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Driving over to his rendezvous with Tony Knox, Mariner felt frustrated by the lack of progress. Nina Silvero’s body lying undiscovered for twenty-four hours, and the initial suicide theory had lost them valuable time, and now, coming up to three days on from the murder, they seemed to have gained little ground.

The dance school was held in one of the many Quaker meeting houses in the south Birmingham area, set back behind a row of houses within an acre of impressively tended gardens. Mariner had hoped to catch Susan Brady before the class began, and was pleased to see that the only other vehicle in the car park was Knox’s pool car.

Walking across to the building, Mariner updated Knox with the little he had learned from Estelle Waters. ‘How’s it going with the paperwork?’ he asked.

‘Well, I haven’t found the signed confession from the killer yet, if that’s what you mean, boss,’ said Knox. ‘The finances all seem to be in order and the bank have talked me through her statements, which seem pretty straightforward. She’d paid off her mortgage and had a reasonable income from her state pension along with the salary she was drawing from the dancing school. Quite a few investments too. The estate will be worth a tidy sum.’

Mariner’s phone pinged.

‘That your admirer again?’ asked Knox. He took Mariner’s lack of response as confirmation. ‘If you don’t want to see her again you should let her know.’

Mariner looked up in disbelief. ‘Relationship advice? From you?’

They had to ring the bell to be admitted, and were met by Susan Brady; small and slight, in a white T-shirt and black leggings, her hair piled up on her head and held in place with a clip, a few stray frizzy strands escaping. She brought with her the scent of vanilla. She seemed young to have such responsibility, Mariner thought, though recognised that he’d reached the age where it wasn’t just the coppers who seemed just out of kindergarten.

Introductions made, she took them through a small entrance lobby and into the main hall, with high windows that flooded the room with late-afternoon sunshine. At the far end of the hall an elderly woman pounding on an upright piano nodded an acknowledgement to them and continued with her playing.

‘Sorry to have kept you,’ Susan apologised. ‘But it’s coming up to audition time and I’m going to have to break it to some of the parents this evening that their daughters aren’t being entered, and explain why. I need to be prepared.’ She was softly spoken with a slight lisp.

‘Auditions for what?’ Mariner wanted to know.

‘Some of the girls try out with the Birmingham Ballet or the Royal College in London. It’s crunch time because what we’re saying is whether or not some of the girls have a future in dancing. It can shatter a few illusions.’

‘Do many of the girls go through?’ Mariner asked.

‘To be honest, they’re in the minority. Most girls are just not built for the long haul, or don’t have the discipline. They start off well while they’re little but then they grow, and in reality very few girls have, or can maintain, the right physique to be successful ballet dancers.’

‘And who makes that decision, whether or not to audition?’

‘The final call is down to us,’ said Susan. ‘Some of it is about cost - we have to pay to enter girls - and we do get parents who want to pay themselves, but the main thing we have to consider is the standing of the school. If we enter too many girls who are really not up to scratch, simply on the off-chance that they might get in, we’d soon start to develop the wrong kind of reputation. Sometimes that means making harsh choices.’

‘Do you meet much resistance?’ Mariner asked.

‘Most of the girls usually know themselves. It’s most difficult with the pushy parents, who have been convinced all along that their offspring is going to be the next Darcy Bussell, regardless of ability. They don’t have a realistic view of what the standards are like.’ She flashed a wry smile. ‘It’s one of the many times I’m going to miss Nina. She was a great believer in honesty, and never one to mince her words if she felt any of the girls weren’t going to make it.’

‘That must have upset some people,’ Mariner said.

‘Oh no, she was always tactful about it. I’m just a wuss. I hate having to break that kind of news.’ Her face clouded. ‘I’m sorry, wittering on. It’s Nina you came to talk about, isn’t it? It’s terrible what happened to her; I can’t believe it. The parents are upset and it’s been really difficult knowing what to tell the girls. They’re so young, some of them. It’s too much for them to take in, but of course a lot of them have seen it on the news and recognised her name.’

Mariner wondered if she was always this garrulous or whether nerves were playing a part. ‘How long had you worked with Nina?’ he asked.

‘For the last fifteen years; I was a pupil of hers when I was a kid and, though I gave up when I left school, I never really went away. We’re - we were a team; Nina, me and Mrs Parker.’

‘Mrs Parker?’

‘Our pianist.’ Susan gestured across the room.

‘She looks as if she could run the class,’ Mariner observed.

‘Oh no, she’s a formidable woman, Mrs Parker, and she plays the piano beautifully, but she’d be the first to admit that Nina was the one with the magic touch.’

‘How old is she?’ Mariner asked, thinking that the old dear looked about to keel over.

‘About a hundred and twenty I think.’ Susan smiled. ‘She’s been doing this for ever.’

‘And being paid for it?’

‘Of course.’

‘How is the business doing?’ Mariner asked.

‘We get by, though I’d be lying if I said that it’s thriving,’ Susan admitted. ‘Ballet for little girls isn’t as popular as it once was. Far too much competition from other activities.’

‘Was it doing well enough to provide two incomes?’

She smiled wryly. ‘Well, I’ll never be a millionaire, but that’s not what I’m in it for. And I think, for Nina, she had her husband’s pension and all that, so she didn’t go short.’

‘But I understand Nina was about to retire anyway.’

This time Susan laughed out loud. ‘Nina has been going to retire ever since I’ve been here. I don’t think she ever would have, she loved it too much.’

‘How did you feel about that?’

She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I’d have to be honest and say it could be frustrating at times. Nina wanted to run things as she always had, teaching only the purist stuff. I think it would have been good to diversify a little and offer some modern dance. With traditional ballet there’s a lot of hard work before it even starts to look like anything impressive.’