Cantelli said, 'Did you ever see Tom Brundall there? It's where he kept his boat.'
'So that's it? I wish you'd just come out and ask the bloody questions instead of acting all bloody Sherlock Holmes about it. I told you I haven't seen Tom from the day he walked off the boats.'
Cantelli said, 'Are you married, sir?'
Gilmore glowered at Cantelli. 'What the hell has that to do with Rowley's death?' he thundered.
Horton wasn't quite sure either, but Cantelli must have had his reasons for asking the question – he always did. Perhaps he thought Sebastian had murdered his wife and put her in Rowland's air-raid shelter.
Gilmore said, stiffly, 'My wife died twenty-seven years ago. Now if you've finished— '
'How long were you married?'
Gilmore stared at Cantelli as if the village idiot had just confronted him. 'Does this have any significance?' he roared.
Cantelli shrugged and smiled as if a simpleton. Horton knew the sergeant's tricks of old. This one never failed to get a reaction. He was curious to see which way Gilmore would leap: patronizingly superior and humour the idiot copper or blustering angry and demand explanations. Gilmore went for the former.
'If you really must know, Sergeant,' he said with some hauteur. 'We were married in 1974 and my wife died in 1981, a year after Selina was born.'
'I'm sorry to hear that, sir.' Cantelli shook his head as his pencil laboured over his notebook. Horton saw the anger on Gilmore's face turn to puzzlement and then wariness.
He said, 'You took your boat out of Horsea Marina on Tuesday. Where did you go?'
Gilmore swung round to face Horton. Quickly recovering his composure from Cantelli's unexpected questions, he said, 'If I'd known you were going to interrogate me, I'd have called my solicitor.'
'Interrogate? I'm sorry if you got that impression, Mr Gilmore. We just need to place everyone who knew Mr Brundall before and around the time of his death. Where did you go?' Horton insisted.
Gilmore hesitated. Was he trying to think up a lie, Horton wondered, or tossing up whether to tell them to go to hell?
Finally Gilmore said, 'To Cowes on the Isle of Wight. I have an apartment there with a berth and I wanted to give the boat a run. I came back the following morning.'
That fitted with what Uckfield had told him. 'Was anyone with you, sir?'
'Look, what is this? You think I had something to do with Brundall's death? Then bloody say so. I was on my own, satisfied?'
It would take a lot more checking to satisfy him. Evenly, he said, 'And where were you on Wednesday evening, sir?'
'You can't honestly believe that I had anything to do with Brundall's death? This is bloody ridiculous. I'm going to make a complaint about this. You burst in here and question me like a common criminal.'
Horton contrived to look contrite. 'I'm sorry, sir. Would you rather answer the questions at the station?'
'No, I bloody wouldn't. If you must know, and seeing as it's obvious I am not going to get rid of you, or your ridiculous allegations, until I answer your questions, I drove to my office from my boat, OK?' Gilmore glared at Horton. Horton said nothing, forcing Gilmore to continue. 'I collected Selina and we went to a sales meeting with Tri Fare, the supermarket chain at their head office in Bristol. I didn't get back here until gone ten; there was an accident on the M4.'
'Would anyone else have access to your boat?'
'My daughter,' Gilmore sniped. 'But seeing as she was with me at Tri Fare, she didn't. Just what the fuck are you driving at?'
It was good, Horton thought, very good, but it didn't convince him. Behind those granite eyes he saw fear. He smelt wariness and concern. Gilmore knew something about Brundall's death, all right; Horton would stake his career on it.
'And your movements on Friday night between six o'clock and seven forty-five?' Now let's see what the bugger produces out of the hat for the time of Anne Schofield's death and his close encounter with eternity.
Gilmore picked up a weight. Horton could see his fist curling round it, the knuckles whitening. Here was a man desperately holding on to his temper, or was it his tongue? Did he want to explain why he had killed Anne Schofield and tried to kill him, or was Horton simply imagining it? He held Gilmore's strong intimidating stare and kept silent. He knew Gilmore was the type who hated silence and hesitation.
'I was in my office,' he said through gritted teeth.
'Alone?'
'Yes. Now if that is all...' Gilmore crossed to the door and threw it open.
But Horton, in true policeman fashion, said, 'There is just one more thing you can help us with.'
Gilmore tightened his grip on the weight. Horton continued, 'Did you ever visit the vicarage, your brother's house?'
'I've already told you, I saw him twelve years ago and that was it,' Sebastian Gilmore boomed with exasperation.
'Then you have no idea who the skeleton in your brother's garden is, or how it might have got there?'
'You what? You're kidding?' He looked at each of them in turn. 'You're not, are you? I haven't the faintest idea.'
Horton studied the giant of a man. His face was immobile, but his body was so tense that Horton thought you could run a truck through it and not crumple it.
'Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Gilmore. I realize how difficult a time this must be for you. We'll do all we can to find out what happened to your brother.'
Gilmore swept ahead of them and flung open the door. Horton could hear a dog barking furiously. Silent, Gilmore showed them out and firmly shut the door behind them.
It was raining but Horton took his time walking to the car and opening the door. Taking his cue, Cantelli did the same, saying, 'Gilmore's not very comfortable about something. Thought he was going to bash us over the head with that ruddy weight.'
Horton looked at the house. There were two long sash windows to the right of the main door. From one of them he could see Gilmore watching them. He climbed into the car.
'Gilmore knew that Brundall lived in Guernsey. And I reckon he met him there. Take your time starting the car, Barney, and turning it around.'
'We're being watched?'
'You bet we are.'
Cantelli obliged, making out like a learner driver. Gilmore was probably having palpitations in case he hit the Porsche.
Horton said, 'Why didn't Gilmore show more interest in the skeleton? Most people would have asked questions like, how did it get there? How long had it been there? Who is it? Even a denial like, "You don't think my brother has anything to do with that?" But nothing, it was as if everyone has a skeleton at the bottom of their garden.'
'Yeah, and he's probably got one in the closet. Is this slow enough?'
'Perfect. Any slower and you'll be going backwards. Gilmore's worried. I want his alibi for both Wednesday night and Friday night thoroughly checked.'
The gates swung open, and Cantelli stopped for a moment on the other side of them, just for effect. Horton called Sergeant Elkins of the marine unit and relayed what Gilmore had said about being in Cowes Marina on Tuesday night.
'Find out if he's telling the truth, Elkins, and if so what time he arrived and when he left. Was he with anyone? Did he meet anyone there and if so who. Get as much informa tion as you can. He claims he has an apartment at Cowes with a berth. Sniff around, see what you can dig up on him.'
Horton rang off, and said to Cantelli, 'What was all that stuff about a wife?'
'I just wondered if she could have been our skeleton in the garden. But the timing is wrong if Mr Gutner is correct about the bones not being there in 1995.'
'There was something else you were fishing for,' Horton said. 'I can always tell by that gleam in your watery old eyes.'
'Hey, not so much of the old.' Cantelli smiled. 'My dad also told me about Sebastian Gilmore's girlfriend...'
'What's that got to do with anything?'
'Patience. She was a real stunner by all accounts. Dad didn't say anything about her dying though.'
'What! My dad! He's like an elephant. He never forgets, especially when it comes to women. It was odd because when Dad was describing her she sounded a lot like Rowland Gilmore's wife.'
Horton threw Cantelli a look. 'Now that is interesting. You got that photograph of Teresa Gilmore on you?'
'Of course.'
Horton smiled. 'Then I think it's about time we paid your dad a visit.'
'I was hoping you'd say that.'
Fifteen
Toni Cantelli Senior was propped up in bed with suction pads and monitors attached to his narrow, grey-haired chest, and bleeping machinery surrounding him in the hot house of the high dependency unit. With his fine grey hair, lean face and very dark quick eyes he reminded Horton of a little old monkey. He seemed to perk up when they walked in. The nurse said they could have ten minutes, but no more. Horton thought that would be enough.
'Good to see you, my boy,' he greeted Horton cheerfully, and nodded at his son. 'Though I wish it wasn't in here. Still it gives me the chance to eye the pretty nurses, and where else could I have such beautiful handmaidens pandering to my whims, at my age?' He winked at a petite black-haired Philippine nurse hurrying past, flashing him a smile as she went. Her eyes swivelled to Horton, and her smile broadened. Where indeed? thought Horton.
Toni followed Horton's gaze. 'I don't blame you, Andy, especially as Barney tells me you and your wife have split up.' He leaned forward. Barney looked set to have palpitations, as the tubes moved with him and the heart monitor beeped alarmingly.
'Dad—'
'And that nurse isn't married,' Toni added in what he obviously considered to be a conspiratorially whisper but Horton thought loud enough to reach the hospital's main entrance, about a mile of corridors away. 'Neither has she got a boyfriend. What is wrong with the men today to let a pretty girl like that slip through their fingers? It wouldn't have happened in my day—'
'Dad, we're not here talk about your misspent youth.'
'No, hang on, maybe we are,' Horton interjected, turning his eye away from the nurses' station and back to the old man. He saw Barney roll his eyes and added with a smile, 'But not too far in the past, and not your youth, Mr Cantelli, but someone else's. Barney tells me you knew Terry Gilmore and his sons.'
'Ah, so that's it? Didn't think you'd come to pass the time of day with a sick old man. It's all right, son,' Toni added hastily, seeing his son's frown, 'I'm only kidding.'
'I want to know everything you can remember about them.' Horton removed his sailing jacket before he melted in the heat of the ward, and slung it over the back of the easy chair. The air was stifling and he could feel his shirt sticking to his back. 'If it won't tire you too much.'
'Son,' Toni hailed Horton affectionately, 'at my age if you ask me what I had for dinner yesterday I couldn't tell you, but ask me what happened back in 1941 and I'll give you chapter and verse. And as for tiring me, do I look tired? This is the first rest I've had in decades. At least the wife hasn't got me up a ladder cleaning windows. Talking of which she'll be in soon with Charlotte, so I'd better spill the gory bits before they get here. What do you want to know?'
'Tell me about Sebastian Gilmore and his brother Rowland.'
The old man settled back on his pillow. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as he gathered his thoughts or maybe his reserves of energy. Then he threw open his eyes and said, 'I only know the family because I had an ice-cream van in Old Portsmouth in those days, and one on the Camber before all those fancy houses got built. Back then it was fishing and engineering and damn all else down at the harbour, except the pubs of course. There weren't the tourists like you get now, sailors maybe. Used to see them in uniform, French, American, it was a fine sight, and the girls thought so too... All right, son, I'm coming to it. You've got no patience.'
Horton saw Barney roll his eyes.
Cantelli senior continued. 'I wasn't in the vans myself; by then I'd started the milk parlours and cafés, but young Tony was selling ice cream. Barney put his foot down though and refused to work in the business, he only ever wanted to be a policeman and nothing else, like his granddad on his mother's side. I can remember him as a kid—'
'Dad, the Gilmores,' Barney prompted gently.
The old man smiled. 'I came across Terry Gilmore many times on the quay; we were the same age and both businessmen so we often got talking. In those days it wasn't difficult to earn a living being a fisherman, a bit different now by all accounts. They say cod's running out, and tuna. I like a nice bit of tuna with pasta and a bottle of Chianti—'
'Dad...'
'It's no good looking at me like that, Barney boy. I'm not one of your suspects.' But Toni Cantelli smiled lovingly at his son. 'Now where was I? Yes. Seb was the eldest. He was a restless, impatient young fellow. Tall, dark and handsome with those film star looks, a bit like Robert Mitchum and the swagger to go with it, whereas poor little Rowley wouldn't say boo to a goose. He was a quiet boy. He didn't look right in fisherman's overalls. Hardly got a word out of him. His father despaired of making him a fisherman. "Why can't he do something else?" I suggested one day. Well, you'd have thought I'd blasphemed. Gilly, as we called the old man, said, "My boys are born and bred fishermen," and there was a lot more of that rubbish. Did I give you grief, Barney, when you announced you were going to become a policeman? Or Marie when she went into teaching? No. Kids have to find their own way in the world, and you'd be best to remember that, Barney, with your five and you, Andy, with your girl.'
Horton had no idea what his daughter wanted to do when she grew up. At seven she had wanted to be a ballet dancer but then many girls went through that stage, or so Catherine said. Well, he'd be able to ask Emma soon.
'It's not for parents to foist their livelihood and desires on their kids,' Toni Cantelli said, 'but Gilly was from the old school of thought. Rowley hated fishing but he was bullied by Gilly and Seb into sticking it out, and he didn't have the guts to stand up for himself. I heard Seb bought him out in the end when old Gilly had a stroke. He was only in his mid-fifties; that must have been late 1970s. If I recall, Rowley jacked it in not long after. And I know why. Not only because he despised fishing but because of Teresa. She was stunning, a real beauty.' Toni Cantelli put his fingers to his lips and kissed the air.
Horton smiled as Barney pulled out the photograph and said, 'Is this her, Dad?'
The old man took it with thin trembling fingers. 'Yes, that's her and is this her little girl?'
'She died when she was seven, in a boating accident.'
'My God, how awful – and Teresa?'
'Suicide six months later.'
Toni Cantelli sat back on his pillow and closed his eyes. He looked a little paler. 'Perhaps we should go,' suggested Horton.
But the old man stretched out his hand and touched Horton's. 'No. I'm all right. It's just sad to think of all that beauty going to so much waste. She was so graceful, a lovely girl, came from a good family too, and she fell for Rowley in a big way. But she was Seb's girl first.'
Was she now! Horton sat up, interested and surprised. Sebastian Gilmore hadn't mentioned that his brother had taken a girlfriend from him, but then why should he? Horton hadn't asked about Rowland's wife, and Sebastian probably hadn't thought it relevant.
Then Toni Cantelli dropped his next bombshell. 'Seb and Teresa were engaged to be married. It was announced and all arranged, then two weeks before the wedding she calls it off and says she's in love with someone else who just happened to be her future brother-in-law, Rowley Gilmore.'
And what a smack in the face that must have been for a man like Sebastian! It could certainly explain why the brothers had fallen out, though. Horton wondered about that exchange between the brothers on the quayside at the Town Camber twelve years ago. Had Rowland told Sebastian about Teresa's death? How would Sebastian have reacted? Did he blame his brother for her death? Had Sebastian still been in love with Teresa? Did the old scars sti
ll itch? If they did he hadn't noticed Sebastian Gilmore scratching them. Could it be motive enough for Sebastian to poison his brother? But twelve years later! No. Horton was heading in the wrong direction with that thought. Sebastian Gilmore would have beaten his brother to within an inch of his life on that quayside if Teresa Gilmore had meant anything to him. He wasn't the type to harbour a grudge or brood on past disappointments. What had he said? You move on...
'How did Seb take it?' Horton asked.
'He put on a brave face but a man with his ego and that much pride wouldn't have liked it.'
No, and Sebastian Gilmore had married very quickly afterwards, as if to say, 'I'm not bothered, Teresa meant nothing to me.'
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