‘Did Freedman ever talk about his family?’ Horton asked, postponing his line of thought for a moment.
‘All I knew was that he had been married.’
‘He still was when he died. No children. Did you meet him when you were both on the road?’
‘If I did I don’t remember him but then that’s hardly surprising considering I was inebriated most of the time.’
‘There’s a kind of camaraderie on the streets. You meet up with the same people on the same circuit and look out for one another.’
Ashmead gave a hollow laugh. ‘Only in the sense of what you can steal from them to fund that next drink or that next drug fix.’
‘Did you do drugs?’
‘Yes, and I didn’t ask where they came from so I had no idea of the toxic stuff I was taking. That, and the drink, scrambles your brain cells as you well know. It leaves its mark no matter what you tell yourself.’
‘What mark has it left on you?’ Horton asked solemnly, wondering if he was going to hear a confession. He tensed.
‘I get blinding headaches, sweats and memory loss.’
‘Does that mean that if I was to ask you where you were on Tuesday and Wednesday night, you’ll tell me you don’t remember?’
‘I was at home on Wednesday night alone, but I don’t know where I was on Tuesday night. All I can remember was travelling home from Southampton on the train from that fundraising conference and the next thing I was waking up at three in the morning, thankfully in my own bed, in my flat. You think I could have killed Peter, don’t you? Well, I didn’t. I don’t know how he died but there was no blood on my clothes, though they were damp.’ Ashmead let the water from the leaky pipe swirl around his shoes while Horton stood in the doorway. ‘I had no reason to kill Peter. He was generous with his time and money. There was no resentment and no history between us.’
‘He’s left half his estate to the centre.’
Ashmead’s surprise seemed genuine. He nodded knowingly. ‘You think I killed him for the money?’
‘You need it desperately,’ Horton pressed.
‘I’d rather have had him alive because he was more valuable for the work he did here helping others than the money.’
‘But without it the centre might have to close. Was the overcoat he was wearing when he died yours, Glyn?’
‘No.’
‘Did it belong to Constance Clements’ husband?’
‘I don’t know because I don’t know Constance Clements or her husband. She might have brought it in. I’m sorry, Andy, but I can’t help you. As far as I’m aware I didn’t kill Peter but if you want to search my bedsit and take my clothes for forensic examination then please go ahead.’
Could Ashmead have killed Freedman while suffering from a blackout? It was possible. And they’d have to ask Constance Clements if she knew Glyn Ashmead and gauge her reaction. Horton left feeling uncomfortable that he’d had to doubt Ashmead and that it had soured their relationship. It was his job, he told himself, to suspect everybody. Sometimes the job stank.
TWENTY-ONE
Horton made his way slowly back to the station. There were so many loose ends and it didn’t look as though they were ever going to tie them up. Horton felt they were going round in circles getting nowhere fast. He bought a coffee from the vending machine outside CID and found Cantelli at his desk. There was no sign of Walters.
‘He’s phoned in sick, says he’s caught Uckfield’s cold,’ Cantelli relayed with some scepticism.
Usually it was Walters’ gut playing him up because of all the fast food crap he ate. He probably just had a few sniffles or hadn’t relished the prospect of working on a Saturday. Cantelli, with his family and his sick mother, had much better reasons to spend his weekend at home, but Horton knew he’d never fabricate a story to do so. And he’d never duck out of an ongoing serious crime investigation unless it was absolutely vital. Horton asked how his mother was and was pleased to hear she was improving under Charlotte’s nursing care and in her grandchildren’s company.
‘I think she was lonely and depressed after dad’s death and too damn proud to admit it, even to her family,’ Cantelli added. ‘And, talking of families, I’ve got some interesting information from the head teacher of Rowan Lyster’s school, Saint Levan’s in Cornwall, a Mr Norman Fyning. He’s been headmaster for twenty-two years and is retiring at the end of this school year. He rang back to check I was legit. The school is very expensive judging by what I could see on the website and what Mr Fyning told me about the fees. Way beyond my budget and even Uckfield’s. It’s probably beyond the ACC’s. The Lysters’ jobs must have paid very well. It’s not Catholic and neither is Rowan Lyster. The school specializes in outdoor activities, as Rowan told us. It also has its own sailing ship, a fifty-six-foot gaff cutter, whatever that is.’
‘Lucky them.’ Horton didn’t bother to explain that a gaff cutter or rather a gaff-rigged boat described the type of sails used – it would only have gone over Cantelli’s head. ‘It sounds like the type of school I’d have enjoyed instead of the failing inner city one I was forced to attend.’
‘It sounds like hell on earth to me. The kids undertake ocean sailing, canoe racing, diving and triathlons, the poor little blighters.’
Horton smiled. He’d have lapped it up.
‘There’s mountaineering in the UK and abroad, cycling, running, swimming.’
‘I take it they do also have lessons.’
‘Must do but it’s not what you would call an academic school. It specializes in educating children of the wealthy and professional classes who don’t fit into mainstream education for some reason or another. Some are not academically bright and some have energy that needs to be channelled in certain directions, which was Fyning’s rather tactful description. They’re not necessarily problem children or kids who have got into trouble, he says, just strong-minded.’
‘And which description fits Rowan Lyster – not academically bright or wilful?’
‘Both, but he was very talented when it came to water sports, which was something Fyning said he would have liked to have discussed with Rowan’s parents, but he never met Dennis Lyster.’
‘Never!’
‘Yep, and Fyning only saw Evelyn Lyster once a year when she showed up for parents’ day. But he claims that isn’t unusual in the school’s case. Many of the parents are absent ones. Not that Fyning would say as much but it’s a dumping ground for unwanted kids of the well-to-do. They even keep the kids for the school holidays, take them on outbound trips and holidays abroad so that the parents don’t have to have them hanging round their neck for weeks on end, messing up their lives. I can’t see the point of having kids if you’re not going to be there to bring them up. Sorry, Andy, I didn’t mean that about—’
‘Forget it.’ Horton didn’t take offence. He knew what Cantelli meant and he would dearly have loved to have shared each and every day with his daughter. It made him think that maybe it was about time he did something to make sure he saw her more often despite Catherine’s attempts to prevent him. Emma was a weekly boarder at her school which was only eighteen miles to the north of Portsmouth. He brought his mind back to what Cantelli was saying.
‘Fyning said Evelyn Lyster was remarkably relaxed about her son’s progress and obviously Dennis Lyster must have been the same. The school fees were always paid on time, from a joint bank account, and all additional expenses were met without a quibble. Rowan rarely spent the holidays with his parents. He’d stay at the school or occasionally with a friend, or he’d go off with the school party on outward-bound adventures. Rowan didn’t seem bothered about his parents’ lack of interest in him. He was happy just as long as he was engaged in some kind of sporting activity, preferably on the water, and preferably on his own.’
‘Not a team player then.’
‘No. He had friendships but they didn’t last very long, not unless the boy or girl – it’s a co-ed school – was submissive. Fyning’s word, not mine. Rowan w
as extremely competitive. He excelled in sailing, especially when he was skipper, and in kayaking and windsurfing. Fyning said he wasn’t surprised that Rowan had gone on to become a European windsurfing champion. He was very focused and not a good loser. I got the impression Fyning was being generous and cautious with what he was saying. When I pressed him he claimed that Rowan was a strong personality and extremely determined.’
Interesting as this was Horton couldn’t see where it got them, but there were certain aspects in Cantelli’s report that intrigued him. ‘It’s odd that after nearly losing their son at sea in that tragedy the Lysters, instead of being even more protective towards Rowan, distanced themselves from him.’
‘What tragedy?’
Horton hadn’t brought Cantelli up to speed with his interview with Roger Stillmore. He did now and swiftly. Cantelli’s dark features looked sorrowful.
‘Poor little mite. The parents must have been devastated. Maybe Dennis Lyster blamed himself for the accident and the very sight of his son being alive reminded him too painfully of the loss of the other little boy and how he had let it happen.’
‘But you’d have thought Evelyn Lyster might have wanted to cling to her son even more given the death of the other child.’
‘Perhaps she just wasn’t the maternal type. Maybe her business meant more to her than her kid. It sounds like it judging by what Fyning said.’
Maybe but Horton thought it strange nonetheless. ‘I wonder how Rowan took being shunted off to school after the accident. Stillmore said it occurred in February when Rowan was ten. When did he start at that school?’
‘The beginning of April, just after Easter for the summer term. He was eleven the following August.’
‘And Fyning said nothing about the accident at sea?’ mused Horton. If he had Cantelli would have known about it.
‘I can call him back and ask him if he knew about it.’
‘And ask if Evelyn or Dennis Lyster told him about it, and if Rowan ever mentioned it. It was a pretty traumatic event for a child to have witnessed.’
‘Maybe he had counselling or blocked it out.’
‘Possibly. See what you can get on it from the marine accident investigation report. Details should be on their website.’ Horton asked if there had been any progress with the investigation from Trueman’s end.
‘Uckfield’s had to let Constance Clements go. She decided she wanted a lawyer. She’s been charged with intent to defraud the insurance company but we both know that won’t stick. Her brief will say she had no choice but to participate because she was bullied into it by her husband. Uckfield held back on charging her with knowing about the gun being in her husband’s possession.’
‘Hoping to get more before he does,’ Horton said.
Cantelli nodded. ‘The house-to-house around Milton Common has drawn a blank. There have been a few responses to the media appeal about Freedman’s coat and sightings of Clements in Milton. Trueman’s team are checking them out but he says that most of them sound like the usual cranks.’
‘Any news from ballistics on the gun that was used to kill Freedman?’
‘Yes. It’s the same gun that killed Clements. And Freedman’s wife has confirmed Freedman’s ID from the photograph she was shown.’
‘Her reaction?’
‘Surprise, relief, a touch of bitterness. Technically she’s still married and she’s been with her new partner for eight years. Freedman was drinking heavily after his garage business failed. She gave him an ultimatum: sober up or clear out. He chose the latter, or rather that’s her story. She told the officer who broke the news to her that that was the last she heard from him. She moved away and got on with her life. And no, she didn’t want to see his body.’
Horton relayed his interview with Glyn Ashmead, ending with the view that he didn’t want to consider him in the frame but thought they should. ‘It means we’ll have to ask Constance Clements if she knows him but we’ll wait on that for a while. Don’t want to be accused of harassing her.’
Horton entered his office. He tried to concentrate on his paperwork and write up his interviews but that tragedy at sea nagged at him. The fact the Dennis Lyster, an experienced sailor, had taken out his yacht when the weather was bad and the forecast was for worse didn’t make sense. And why take two small boys with him? It wasn’t the act of an experienced skipper and neither did it fit with a cautious man, which Dennis Lyster must have been. After all, most engineers were.
He sat back and considered what Cantelli had just told him. Why had the Lysters despatched their only son to a school hundreds of miles away after the fatality and rarely seen him? Why had Dennis Lyster stayed out of the country for so long? Why hadn’t Evelyn Lyster been anxious about her only child? It didn’t add up. Why didn’t Rowan seem affected by what had happened? Why had he taken up a career on the sea when his friend had died on it? Perhaps he’d faced his fears and overcome them, or as Cantelli had said, deliberately blocked it from his mind.
Then there were the dead boy’s parents. Where were they? How had they coped with life after so tragically losing their son at sea? Had they also been sailors? Had they blamed Dennis Lyster for their child’s death? Why had they allowed Cary to go sailing in such bad weather? Why had Evelyn Lyster permitted it? It could easily have been her child who’d died.
Ignoring the paperwork on his desk, Horton called up the coroner’s report on Dennis Lyster’s death. He was curious about a man who seemed to have been very elusive, especially after the tragedy at sea. Had he changed jobs so that he could escape the Solent and his wife and child who reminded him of it? Had it been a way of avoiding seeing the dead boy’s parents?
He read the background that Cantelli had relayed to him earlier. There was no mention by anyone about the tragedy at sea and how it might have affected Dennis Lyster. Why hadn’t Evelyn told the coroner that the incident might have returned to haunt him? Or that, having been involved in such an incident, perhaps he’d thought it only fitting he should take his own life by drowning as a form of punishment for a child’s death at sea while the child had been under his care? Or was he just reading too much into it?
Horton read on. There was a fair bit of information on the fact that Dennis Lyster had been made redundant from a job that he had held with the same company, the Paitak Corporation, for twenty-three years, which meant he hadn’t changed jobs after the tragedy. Maybe he had changed positions to encompass more travel. Horton read that Lyster had been a mining engineer. That wasn’t what Gina Lyster had told them. She’d said Dennis had been a civil engineer. Maybe Gina had thought they were the same thing. Possibly they were but Horton called up the company name on the Internet and soon found that they weren’t.
An idea began to form in the back of his mind. He rang the company’s UK office. It being Saturday, though, he got a security officer who told him the office was closed for the weekend and to ring back and speak to human resources on Monday. He then rang his former police colleague, Mike Danby, who now ran an impressive close protection and security company working for the famous, influential and rich, including Lord Eames, as well as some top corporations. A few minutes later he replaced the phone, his head spinning. He was about to call Cantelli in when he knocked and entered.
‘Fyning had no idea about any tragedy at sea or fatality. The Lysters never told him and Rowan never mentioned it and neither, as far as he was aware, did Rowan suffer nightmares or show any reluctance to go to sea,’ Cantelli announced, taking the seat across Horton’s desk. ‘Evelyn Lyster arrived with Rowan at the school on Friday the fourth of March, three weeks before Easter. She and Rowan were shown around the school and Rowan was told about the ethos and activities. Fyning knew that Rowan was already a fairly experienced sailor even at the age of ten but he didn’t know how good. Rowan stayed for the long weekend to familiarize himself with the activities and meet the other pupils. He showed no reluctance to join the school – in fact, he was very keen when he saw that he was more experience
d and had a greater aptitude for water sports than most of the other pupils in his year.’
The tragedy at sea had occurred four weeks before that on the fourth of February. Horton sat back thoughtfully as Cantelli continued.
‘The boy who died was Cary Gamblin, parents Robin and Margaret. It occurred just off the Bembridge Ledge. Both the Bembridge and the Eastney lifeboats attended but Bembridge was already on a shout further round the island off Ventnor so the Eastney lifeboat reached there first, even then they were too late to save the boy. I’ve run a check on Robin and Margaret Gamblin; neither are registered as being dead or divorced. There’s also no record with Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs for either of them so they’re not working, or if they are they’re certainly not paying taxes and neither are they claiming benefit. They could be living abroad. Perhaps they moved away to try and start a new life somewhere. They might have emigrated. The last record I can find for Robin Gamblin is seventeen years ago. His last known occupation was an insurance broker. He’s got no previous and neither has Margaret Gamblin.’
Horton put this information with the ideas that had been swirling around his head, what he’d discovered on the Paitak Corporation website and what Mike Danby had told him. Eagerly, he sat forward. ‘I’ve been asking myself why an experienced sailor like Dennis Lyster would go sailing in such atrocious weather and take two small children with him. I think it was because he was scheduled to meet someone and couldn’t put it off.’
‘At sea?’ asked Cantelli dubiously.
‘Yes. Or perhaps in Bembridge Marina on the Isle of Wight. He could have been coming out of the marina or heading there but got blown off course. Or he struggled to get into the marina – the harbour’s quite tricky to navigate especially given that weather.’
‘But why take the children?’
‘For cover. A small yacht with children on board is much less likely to get stopped by the Border Agency.’
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