'Well, I hope you're right, because if you aren't then this other presenter – what's his name...?'
'Perry Jackson.'
'Could be at risk.'
Horton doubted it, but he remained silent.
After a moment Uckfield said, 'This doesn't look good for you. It's bound to be a high profile case, with Farnsworth being a television personality. We'll get hammered by the press. I'll do my best to cover your backside, but...'
With immaculate timing, saving Uckfield from making a comment that Horton knew would drive him to a cold fury, Cantelli put his head round the door.
'Any chance of a cuppa? My feet are so cold they hurt.'
Uckfield looked about to explode and deny Cantelli's request when his mobile phone rang. Brushing past Cantelli, he exited with a glare at Horton and a 'Yes, sir,' into his mobile phone.
Cantelli let out a breath as Uckfield banged the door on them. He picked up a tea bag and tossed it into a mug. 'I see he's his usual cheerful self. Holiday must have done him good.'
Horton wrapped his frozen fingers around his own mug and took a sip of the hot coffee. 'What did you get?'
'The perimeter wire is intact. The site foreman says the CCTV cameras hardly ever work and even if they do they don't always bother to put a tape in. Last night was no exception. No recording.
The business is doing well and Oldham isn't a bad boss; tough but fair is the consensus. You know where you stand with him is the general opinion.'
Which is more than you do with Uckfield, Horton thought with bitterness. Uckfield would sell his soul, not to mention sacrifice his old friends on the high and mighty altar of promotion.
Cantelli removed the tea bag with a spoon, squeezed it out and left it on the drainer, after looking for and not finding a bin. He spooned in three sugars and stirred. 'I also had a word with Ian Keynes, Marion's husband.'
That must have been the lorry driver that Horton had seen Cantelli talking to.
'When he knew who I was, he accused me of upsetting his wife with our allegations of theft. It was bluster. He's a surly beggar and he was definitely uneasy about something.'
'The nursing home will have to take a back seat for the moment.' Horton didn't like leaving it, but he didn't have a choice. Once Uckfield mobilized his full team, though, Horton might be able to get back to it. By then it would be too late, he'd be on holiday. But how could he sail away, metaphorically and literally, with all this hanging over him? He should be able to and maybe he might have done if it hadn't been for the Intelligence Directorate's involvement.
Cantelli nodded solemnly. Horton could see that he understood, but liked it about as much as he did.
'Could Farnsworth's death be due to natural causes?'
'Is the sun hot?'
Cantelli shivered elaborately. 'Not at the moment.'
Dr Price had removed Farnsworth's hood to reveal a livid mark on the throat. Price wouldn't speculate as to what had made it and neither would he confirm it was the cause of death. He was just there to certify death, he had said tetchily. The rest was down to Dr Clayton. Horton thought it looked as though Farnsworth had been strangled and that, and how the body had been found, had been enough to call in the major crime team.
'Where is the rest of Farnsworth's diving gear: aqua lung, spare regulators, lines, fins? Where's his car?'
'Could be parked at the sailing club next door. Want me to check?'
'I'll do that, and for goodness' sake stop stirring. You'll go through the bottom of that mug.'
Cantelli tapped the spoon on the side and took a sip. 'Maybe he came here by boat.'
The thought had already occurred to Horton. 'Then where is it? Why come here? And who moved that truck, if Oldham is to be believed?'
'You think he's lying?' said Cantelli, blowing on his tea to cool it down.
'Perhaps the reports of the break-ins are phoney to make us think there was an intruder when really Oldham was planning to kill Farnsworth. He knows Farnsworth and I don't think it's just from the television programmes as he claims.'
'But why would he want to kill Farnsworth? And why is Farnsworth dead when it was Perry Jackson who received those threatening telephone calls? They're not even alike; different build, hair and eye colour, so it can't be a question of mistaken identity.'
Horton thought of that hood and mask that had covered Farnsworth's face. The build was wrong, yes, but in the dark, in panic, with the victim wearing a diving suit, maybe the killer struck out and realized afterwards he'd cocked it up. Or there was an alternative. Had Perry Jackson staged those calls and killed his co-presenter? His motive? Perhaps he didn't like Farnsworth getting too much of the limelight.
He said as much to Cantelli, then added, 'You'd better break the news to Corinna Denton and Perry Jackson. Get details of their movements yesterday and last night. And there's that cameraman, Jason Kirkwood. Make sure you talk to him. They're all suspects until we say they're not. And watch closely for Jackson's reaction. I'll send Lee over to the hotel to help you.'
'Is it all right if I go home and change first? I don't think the Queen's Hotel will want me dripping all over their nice posh carpets.'
'Need you ask?'
'What about Uckfield?'
'What about him?'
Cantelli smiled and put down his mug of tea. 'I'm on my way.'
Horton stayed inside the Portakabin long enough to call Lee.
Before he mentioned anything about Farnsworth, he asked her how she had got on at the social services offices.
'Irene Ebury set fire to the council flat where she lived three times. She was a smoker and she'd fall asleep forgetting where she'd left the fag, or she'd leave something on the stove. On the third occasion the neighbours complained and she was referred to social services. A medical report confirmed dementia. She insisted she was fine. She hadn't left anything on the cooker and she would never fall asleep smoking, but she did admit to liking the odd gin or two. Eventually, when she was found at Fratton Station one night in her nightie and dressing gown, she was sent to St James' Hospital for a mental assessment and it was considered that she was a danger to herself and the other residents. The social worker and doctor recommended her to be moved to a specialist nursing home catering for dementia.'
'Who helped her to move?'
'Her social worker, Naomi Bennett, but she doesn't work for social services any more. Shall I locate her?'
'Later.' Horton then told her about Farnsworth's death. There was silence and he wondered for a moment if he'd been talking into thin air. Not going according to your plan, he thought gleefully, before reminding himself that Farnsworth was dead. 'Sergeant Cantelli will meet you at the Queen's Hotel. Wait for him outside.'
Would they pull her off his team now that there was a murder case which would take priority certainly over any investigation he might pursue into the nursing home? But if it was Daniel Collins's death the Intelligence Directorate was really interested in, and not Irene Ebury's, then maybe her boss would leave her where she was, especially if there was a connection with Farnsworth's death. And that connection was the sub-aqua club and the proximity of where the two bodies had been found.
He stepped outside to see that the media had arrived. PC Johns was doing his best to keep them at bay. A member of Oldham's staff must have alerted them. Soon they would be here in their droves.
Horton found Uckfield at the edge of the pit. He told him that he'd dispatched Cantelli and Lee to the Queen's Hotel. 'I'll check the sailing centre car park for Farnsworth's car and if it's not there I'll put out a call for it.'
'I'll brief the press.' Uckfield made to turn away when Taylor hailed them.
'We've found something that will interest you.'
Wondering what it could be, Horton stepped inside the tent with Uckfield and stared at Farnsworth's body, feeling once again that stab of guilt. Taylor had uncovered the legs and arms and as Horton's eyes followed the direction of Taylor's gesture he started with surprise. Thre
e fingers of Farnsworth's left hand were missing. He was damn sure that Farnsworth had had the full complement of digits last night.
'Why the devil do that?' Uckfield voiced Horton's thoughts exactly.
But maybe he could take a guess. 'It could be a jilted lover.' He thought of Daisy Pemberton. Surely she wouldn't be strong enough to have attacked and killed Farnsworth, and he couldn't see her hacking off fingers. 'Or an outraged husband or boyfriend,' he added.
'Then why not just hack off the third finger of the left hand?'
'Maybe it was easier to slice them all off. Especially if the killer was in a hurry.'
Taylor said, 'I can't see them lying around, but they could be in here somewhere.'
'I want a thorough search made of this whole yard, even if it means removing every single grain of gravel.'
Oldham wasn't going to be very pleased about that thought Horton, hoping he wasn't the one to tell him. He stared down at Farnsworth. What had he been doing here and at night? It could hardly have been to steal gravel, even if he was building a patio. And he couldn't have had a secret assignation with another lover, not wearing diving gear. If he could find the answer to that question then he might also have the answer to the second one, which was who had killed him. If they were very lucky then maybe the person whom Farnsworth had called on his mobile phone after leaving the sub-aqua club last night was
the killer. Horton hoped so, but he wasn't holding his breath. Nothing was ever that straightforward.
ELEVEN
'Farnsworth called Corinna Denton,' Cantelli said an hour later. So no joy there thought Horton. He didn't have Corinna marked out as her lover's killer, but then he could be wrong.
Cantelli continued. 'I've taken a quick look around Farnsworth's room. There's a laptop computer, no mobile phone though and no letters or diary. His rucksack's there with his publicity photos, but there's nothing to throw any light on his death. I've locked the room and the interconnecting door to Corinna Denton's and told the manager that no one is to go in. I've also phoned the Surrey police and asked them to send someone out to Farnsworth's house in Haslemere, and to make sure it's sealed off. I thought DI Dennings might already have done that, but apparently he hasn't.'
That didn't surprise Horton. With the phone crooked under his chin, he swung round in his seat and turned over his wet T-shirt on his office radiator. Along with his socks, shirt and trousers they were generating enough steam to rival a Turkish bath, filling his office with a smell like wet PE kits, reminiscent of school and a time in his life he'd rather forget. Or the changing rooms at Portsmouth football club, where he'd once been an apprentice, which was a much more favourable recollection. He'd managed to find some dry clothes: a pair of uniform trousers and police issue sweatshirt, and he kept a pair of trainers in his office in case he had the chance to go for a run during the day.
'Who's the next of kin?'
'Corinna says Nick's ex-wife, Annette Hill. She reverted to her maiden name after the divorce. There were no children. And she says that Nick's parents are both dead. There are no brothers or sisters. I've got Annette Hill's address. She lives in Bournemouth.'
Horton was surprised, not that Farnsworth had once been married, but that he'd still kept his former wife as his next of kin. He would hardly name Catherine as his, if she chose to marry Edward bloody Shawford – or any man come to that – after their divorce.
Once again, with the phone crooked under his neck, Horton quickly transcribed the address that Cantelli relayed to him. 'I'll ask Dorset police to inform her. We'll need a formal ID.'
'Don't we need two people?'
Horton raised his eyebrows. 'You're not thinking of bringing Annette Hill and Corinna Denton together?'
'Could be interesting. Annette is a lecturer in marine archaeology at the School for Conservation Sciences at Bournemouth University. Farnsworth met her on a dive when she was a student. Maybe she didn't like her ex-husband messing around, hence the fingers being chopped off.'
Cantelli had a point. Horton said, 'How long have they been divorced?'
'Seven years.'
'Then it's taken her a long time to work up a head of steam. How's Corinna taking the news?'
'She's very cut up. Blames herself for Farnsworth's death. Says she should have called us earlier, but she didn't realize that he was missing. Farnsworth called her last night at about
nine thirty-five to say that he was going to be late and not to wait up for him.'
So what had made Farnsworth change his plans that night? Was it something that someone had said in the sub-aqua club? Or was it his questions about Daniel Collins? On the other hand Farnsworth could already have made an appointment to see someone and hadn't wanted to tell Corinna until the last moment.
'They rowed,' Cantelli continued. 'Corinna accused him of having another woman and slammed the phone down on him.'
Maybe she was right. Horton wouldn't put it past Farnsworth. Perhaps there was another of Farnsworth's women who was disappointed he hadn't shown up last night. To Horton's reckoning Farnsworth must have met his killer soon after his release from the station, otherwise he would have missed the high tide; always given Farnsworth had gone there by sea. There had been no sign of his car in the sailing centre car park when he'd checked.
Cantelli was saying, 'She waited all night for him to call her to apologize or creep into her bed but he didn't do either. This morning she thought sod him. She didn't go into his room and she didn't call him. Now she thinks that if she had done she might have saved his life.'
'Unlikely.'
'That's what I told her.'
'And the cameraman, Jason Kirkwood?'
'Hates the sight and sound of Farnsworth and doesn't blame someone for killing him. Said Farnsworth had it coming and that it was probably some irate husband or lover. In his opinion the killer deserves a medal.'
'So where was he last night?'
'In the hotel, drinking at the bar until ten thirty. Lee checked. The barman remembers him. Then he claims he was in his room, alone, all night. I told them both not to leave the hotel without informing us. Kirkwood seemed to like the idea of the production company picking up his bills whilst he continues to live in the lap of luxury. The press look as though they're setting up camp in reception, Andy. I take it Superintendent Uckfield will call a conference.'
You bet he will, thought Horton. Any chance to get his face on the television. And he was welcome to it. It was a chore that Horton didn't relish. And he knew they needed all the help they could get to gain information about Farnsworth's whereabouts the previous night. He'd called Ray Tomsett, the harbour master, on his way back to the station in the patrol car. Ray hadn't seen any boats in the channel the previous night or early this morning and he'd had no reports of anything untoward. He said he would ask the fishermen and bait diggers.
'Did Farnsworth make a will?'
'Corinna doesn't know. It never came up in their conversations.'
'No, I can see how it wouldn't,' Horton said wryly. Farnsworth was the type to think he was immortal.
'Perhaps they'll find one at his house in Haslemere. He must be worth a few bob.'
He probably was, but Horton didn't see that as a motive for killing him. 'Where's Perry Jackson?'
'With a man called Nathan Lester at Fort Cumberland. Corinna was going to call him, but I said we'd break the news to him ourselves.'
'Good.' Horton recalled that Nathan Lester had been the name that Gary Manners, the secretary of the sub-aqua club, had given him as one of Daniel Collins's diving partners.
'Pick me up, Barney. Tell Lee to bag up any personal papers and bring them back to the station, and to get Farnsworth's computer over to the computer-crime unit. Oh, and give me Farnsworth's mobile phone number.'
Cantelli relayed it. Horton rang off, but he didn't replace the receiver. Instead he dialled another number. It took a while to be answered but eventually a tired voice greeted him.
'I'm sorry to disturb y
ou, Mrs Collins,' he said, after quickly announcing himself. 'But there's something I need to check with you. When you phoned in and spoke to Detective Constable Lee before we came to visit you, did you mention to her where Daniel worked?'
'I can't remember. I'm sorry. I was so angry and upset. I might have done. I'm not sure. Is it important?'
'No,' he reassured her. He hadn't really expected any other answer.
'Is there any news?'
'Not yet, I'm afraid.' He could hear her disappointment in the short silence that followed. 'Did Daniel ever mention a man called Nicholas Farnsworth?'
Dead Man's Wharf Page 13