Lethal Waves

by Pauline Rowson

‘And there was Rowan Lyster all smiles, living his life as though Cary’s meant nothing. It should have been Cary’s wedding. I should have been celebrating my son’s wedding, not dishing up food to his killers.’ A sob caught in her throat. She shifted.

  Quickly, Horton said, ‘So you killed Dennis?’

  She threw him a confused look. Her arms must be aching, the rail was wet and becoming slippery. She couldn’t hold out much longer.

  ‘No. He killed himself. I heard him and Evelyn rowing. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying but he said something about Cary’s death. I tried to get closer but I was called away to the tables. I was going to ask him about it but I didn’t get the chance that day. Then I read about his body being found under Ryde Pier on the Isle of Wight. I thought good, that’s one of them gone. He deserved to die.’

  ‘And that’s when you began to plan to kill Robin and Evelyn.’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t know how. I thought about it endlessly. It helped me. It gave me focus and purpose. It kept me alive. I knew I only had to wait.’

  ‘Martha, climb back over. Let me help you.’

  But she ignored him. ‘I shot Robin. It was the last thing he expected and it felt so good. He’d even come to the meeting with me dressed as a tramp hoping I would believe he was still down on his luck and that I’d leave him alone when I saw how low he’d sunk. He thought I wanted to resume our relationship. He thought I would ask him for money. He didn’t want me messing up his oh-so-comfortable life. The look on his face when he saw me was priceless but he soon recovered and when I shot him he stared at me, amazed.’

  ‘How did you get the gun?’

  ‘He gave it to me.’

  Horton stepped forward. He could reach out and grab her hands and hold on to them with all his strength and call for help.

  ‘I didn’t know that he had a gun until that Tuesday. I heard him on Glyn’s phone. Glyn was in Southampton at a conference. Robin reminded Mr Clements that he expected payment in the form of what they’d agreed. He had someone who was very keen to get hold of the Robert Adams gun and ammunition and that he’d take delivery of both that evening on the seafront opposite the beach huts on the corner of St Georges Road at six thirty.’

  That fitted with what Constance had told them about her husband being out and his manner when he came home.

  ‘It was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. I slipped out and phoned Gravity from a call box around the corner. I knew if I kept it ringing long enough he’d answer it. No one except me and Robin were authorized to use Glyn’s office. He answered the call as Peter Freedman. I said that I’d heard that Robin Gamblin visited the centre. I said that I was desperate to see him. That I needed help, and that perhaps I could also help him. I was his wife. He took the bait. He said he could get a message to Robin. He usually came in on a Tuesday. I said I’d be at the Eastney lifeboat station at seven o’clock, knowing that he’d have to come immediately after getting the gun from Mr Clements. He was so shocked when he saw me and when I told him I knew about Mr Clements’ gun. I told him that I hadn’t asked him to meet me to blackmail him, or to resume our relationship, but to ask him for the gun to kill myself with. I wanted to end my pain. I asked if he had bullets for it. He said he did. He took out a small tin. There were three bullets inside it. He loaded one into the pistol. I watched him carefully.’ Her voice caught.

  Gamblin would have seen she meant it because she did.

  She said, ‘He handed over the gun and I fired it at him. He stared at me, aghast. He couldn’t believe I’d shot him. I watched him stagger across the road in the vain attempt to get help. Then he collapsed. I followed him. He tried to get up. He shifted back so that he was slightly under the houseboat. Then he was dead. I straightened him up, went through the pockets of the coat and took his keys, wallet and mobile phone. You’ll find them in the flat. I took the small tin containing the other two bullets. I thought I would use one to kill Evelyn but then I heard she was dead.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I saw you arrive at Grand Parade with Gina Lyster and I wondered what you were doing there. I was waitressing in the club for Bellman. I discovered that Evelyn Lyster had an apartment there. I contacted Winner Watersports and asked to speak to Evelyn and Gina told me she was dead, so I didn’t have to kill her. They’re all dead now. I’m sorry I killed Mr Clements. I asked him to meet me on the Common where no one would see us. All I wanted to do was give the gun back to him only he kept going on about how he’d tell the police I’d killed Robin, or Peter, as he called him. That I was a thief and a murderer. I couldn’t bear to listen to him any longer. I was tired. He was stupid and uncaring. He had no idea what Robin was like and what I’d been through. As I stepped forwards he fell back. I stood over him and shot him. I left the gun there. And now it’s time to be with my lovely boy.’

  ‘Martha, please. Cary wouldn’t want you to do this.’

  ‘Don’t bother coming after me, Andy. I’ll be fine. Cary’s been alone for too long.’

  And suddenly she was gone. Horton rushed forward. He bellowed for help and heard the RIB start up. Elkins must have relayed instructions to Ripley. Within an instant Horton had thrown off his jacket and shoes and leapt over the railings. He plunged into the dark, swirling sea. The cold stole the breath from him and his clothes pulled him down. Desperately, with a racing heart and trying to keep afloat, he scoured the black, swollen sea, searching for her as he heard the RIB growing closer. Its powerful beam lit up the surface of the water and picked him out. Then he caught sight of her. She was within three feet of him. He swam out, hampered by his heavy, sodden clothing and the rough sea. Within seconds he’d reached her and grasped her as the RIB drew closer. She spluttered and struggled against him. It took all his strength to hold on to her. The RIB was speeding towards them. It would be here in seconds. Then the rolling, giant wave hit them. It caught him off balance. Desperately, he held on to her as they went under. Then she was fighting him no longer. Her body went limp. She wasn’t dead, he told himself, she was unconscious, but as Ripley drew alongside he knew that Martha had got her wish. She’d gone to join her boy.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Sunday

  It was the early hours of the morning when Horton finally reached his yacht. He’d watched Martha’s body being taken to the mortuary and then he’d been given dry, clean clothes at Newport police station before rejoining Elkins and Ripley and being taken back to Portsmouth on the RIB where Uckfield, Dennings, Bliss, Trueman and Cantelli were waiting in the incident suite.

  Dennings confirmed that they had found evidence of blood spatter on Martha’s coat in her flat and Robin Gamblin’s wallet, keys and phone. Horton relayed what she’d said, although he’d already updated Uckfield earlier on the phone. Cantelli shook his head sadly. Horton knew he understood Martha’s motivations. Cantelli had confirmed that Martha had suffered a nervous breakdown and had attempted suicide on two occasions following the death of her child. She’d spent years in and out of psychiatric hospitals in Portsmouth, Southampton and Basingstoke. She’d moved around, or been moved, restless and disturbed, and had gradually slipped through the system. It was easy now when there were so many demands and so many cutbacks. The vulnerable had become even more vulnerable.

  ‘Do you believe she didn’t kill Dennis and Evelyn Lyster?’ Uckfield had asked.

  Horton had said he did, and he was still certain of that now as he climbed on board his yacht. Suicide for Dennis Lyster was possible but not natural causes for Evelyn. Someone had put that beta blocker in Evelyn’s flask and that someone could still possibly have been Robin Gamblin, aka Peter Freedman, the motive being that he intended to clean out Evelyn’s Guernsey account which the States of Guernsey police still hadn’t located. Evelyn Lyster had been clever and cunning and it would take time and resources to unravel the extent of her criminal activity, a task that neither he nor Uckfield would be involved in. It would be handed over to the fraud team who would liaise with Europol and In
terpol, much to the relief of ACC Dean, who favoured Freedman or rather Gamblin as her killer because it tied up the case at their end and meant no further strain on their budget.

  Horton removed the borrowed jacket and lay down on his bunk. He didn’t expect to sleep. Every muscle in his body ached but it was the mental anguish that was the most painful to bear. The memory of Martha’s smiling face in the Gravity café, her tormented expression on the pier, her despair and sorrow, the feel of her thin, struggling body in his arms and then her limp one as he failed to save her. She was at peace, he told himself as his eyes swivelled to the photograph of Emma pinned up beside him. Martha had died to be with her child. Would he do the same? Would he kill for Emma? He didn’t even need to ask that question.

  What would Rowan Lyster make of the real life of his parents? Had he known what they were doing? But how could a child of ten have known? Horton’s mind turned to Jennifer. He’d been ten when she had left him. He’d known nothing of her involvement with the intelligence services. He still knew very little about her but slowly he was pulling together the pieces.

  He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew it was seven o’clock and only just getting light. His body ached, his mouth felt like sawdust and his head was heavy and throbbing. He showered, changed and made himself a cooked breakfast, hoping it would pep up his sluggish brain and body. A strong injection of caffeine also helped. His mind cleared a little and his thoughts returned to what Martha had said about how Cary was cautious and a good sailor and that he would never have unclipped himself. Was that just a mother defending her son? Possibly but if it wasn’t and Cary hadn’t unclipped himself then that explained quite a lot, especially if he put it with what Cantelli had discovered from Norman Fyning, the head teacher of St Levan’s.

  He hesitated before ringing Cantelli because it was Sunday and he was reluctant to take him away from his family – he’d already been deprived of them yesterday – but he knew that Cantelli would want to see this through. He gave Barney the chance of opting out, which he didn’t take, and said he’d meet him at the Lyster’s house but also asked him to call Norman Fyning at St Levan’s and find out if Rowan had been at school with a girl called Gina. He wished they had her maiden name. Cantelli could get it from the General Register Office but they didn’t have time.

  Horton had another coffee then picked up his jacket, helmet and keys and locked up. Cantelli was waiting for him in his car, which was parked some houses down the road from the Lysters. He looked tired. Horton knew that it wasn’t so much the lack of sleep but emotional fatigue over Martha’s death.

  ‘Norman Fyning says there was a girl at school with Rowan called Georgina Paignton. She was very athletic like Rowan and good at water sports. A quiet girl, never boastful, just did as she was told – certainly when she first came to them. She was not academically bright, rather plain, and the only thing she seemed to like was swimming and being in or on the water. Her parents, like Rowan’s, were distant ones. She was their only child and he said a mistake and a disappointment to them. Also an encumbrance. Not that they expressed that but it was why she was sent to the school. They were top-class international lawyers. Tax exiles now, having made a fortune, which might explain why they didn’t attend their daughter’s wedding, if it is Gina. Fyning remembered she worshipped the ground Rowan walked on but Rowan never noticed her.’

  ‘Looks as though he finally did and Gina got her man.’

  The Lysters weren’t at home but Horton knew where they’d find them – at Winner Watersports. He gave Cantelli directions, told him to request a patrol car and some officers and headed to the car park close to Fort Cumberland where he parked the Harley. A few minutes later Cantelli pulled up. There was only a small sports car in the car park. Gina Lyster’s. It was still early and bitingly cold. There wouldn’t be any windsurfing customers for the Lysters today. As they headed towards the hut that bore the company name Horton saw Rowan was there with Gina. Gina spotted them first. Her expression changed from surprise to wariness, while Rowan’s became more sullen and antagonistic.

  ‘Can’t you leave us in peace?’ he exclaimed grouchily.

  Horton answered. ‘We thought you’d like to know who killed Peter Freedman.’

  ‘I can’t see—’

  ‘Or rather, I should say Robin Gamblin.’ Horton watched Rowan carefully to see if the name got a reaction. It did but not much of one. His eyes narrowed slightly before he turned away, busying himself with some rope in a kayak.

  Horton continued, ‘Peter Freedman was really Robin Gamblin, the father of your friend, Cary, who drowned.’ Rowan didn’t look up. His hands were steady. ‘Robin Gamblin was killed by his wife, Cary’s mother, Margaret Gamblin.’

  It was Gina who spoke. ‘Why did she do that?’

  ‘Because she never forgave her husband for letting their son go out on a yacht when a storm was forecast. And the reason why Dennis Lyster – your father, Rowan – had to go was because your mother insisted.’

  Rowan looked up. ‘I was ten years old. Cary unclipped himself. He was stupid.’

  ‘Was he? That’s not what I heard.’

  ‘Then you heard wrong.’

  ‘Rowan,’ Gina cautioned and flashed them an anxious look.

  Rowan threw his wife a hostile stare but she didn’t flinch under it as Constance Clements would have done. Horton could see both by her glance now and what he’d witnessed previously when they’d interviewed them together that Norman Fyning was right – she worshipped her husband but, unlike Constance, Gina was mentally strong. She’d got what she wanted and she was determined to hang on to it.

  Horton continued to address Rowan. ‘Your mother and father, along with Robin and Margaret Gamblin, were engaged in criminal activity. Your father was stealing diamonds from his employers and your mother was selling them. In addition, your parents and the Gamblins were involved in insurance fraud, theft and blackmail. Your father was delivering something to a buyer on the day Cary died.’

  ‘Was he?’ Rowan said dismissively while continuing to handle the thin rope.

  ‘What evidence do you have?’ Gina asked sharply.

  ‘A confession from Margaret Gamblin before she drowned herself.’ If he was hoping to shock them or shame Rowan he didn’t succeed.

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I was a child.’

  ‘You were and you couldn’t have known about the theft and fraud, not then. But you overheard your parents rowing at your wedding.’ Horton swivelled his gaze to Gina. ‘What was the row about, Gina?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Oh, but she did. He could see it in her eyes. Whether they’d get her to say though was a different matter.

  Horton turned back to Rowan. ‘Cary’s death destroyed Margaret’s life. She ended up suffering a nervous breakdown and severe depression. His father went on a downward spiral until he ended up on the streets and then in prison before starting a new life. Dennis couldn’t bear to be in the same room, the same house, the same town as you, Rowan. Now why was that? And your mother rarely saw you, usually about once a year. Oh, yes, she was busy working, travelling, accumulating her wealth, making sure that Dennis continued to do as she bid but they both knew what you’d done. And they sent you away so that you couldn’t tell anyone or let it slip. They hoped that water sports, the other activities and the ethos of the school, which specialized in dealing with children not suited to mainstream education for a variety of reasons, would keep you occupied, and it did.’

  Horton persisted, ‘Cary was a bright boy and a very talented and careful sailor. Maybe he unclipped himself as a dare. Is that what happened, Rowan? Did you cajole and challenge him to do it? Did you call him a coward? Did you provoke him into unclipping himself?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Rowan,’ Gina urged.

  ‘You didn’t like Cary, did you, Rowan?’ Horton interjected, seeing Martha’s pain-ridden haun
ted eyes flash before him. ‘But your parents insisted you play with him and insisted that he go out sailing with you. You hated the fact that he was cleverer than you but it was the fact that he was a better sailor which really goaded you, especially when you heard your father praising him and encouraging him. You were jealous. You didn’t like anyone being better than you. Not then or at school where, I suspect, if we questioned the staff and previous pupils, we’d find other accidents. A boy getting injured or sick. Someone accidentally slipping or his rope fraying. You’re fiercely competitive. So you unclipped Cary and pushed him overboard. And your father saw it.’

  Gina quickly interjected. ‘You’ve got no right—’

  Horton turned his angry eyes on Gina. ‘I have every right. A child died and his mother and father are also dead. What did you hear, Rowan, on your wedding day? What was the argument between your mother and father? Was it your father telling your mother that now he’d been sacked from his job he was no longer obliged to do what she wanted? Had six months of being unemployed developed in him a conscience or had he discovered that Evelyn had resumed her relationship with Robin Gamblin? That really stuck in your father’s claw and he was going to tell Robin and the police what really happened. Is that why you killed your father, Rowan?’

  ‘I got sick of hearing how brilliant Cary was.’

  ‘Rowan, don’t say anything.’

  But he simply looked through his wife. ‘Cary wheedled his way into Dad’s affections. Dad was always going on about how good Cary was and what a delight he was to have along.’

  ‘He liked Cary more than you,’ said Horton.

  ‘I didn’t know he was going to drown.’ Rowan didn’t sound at all sorry. He said it as a matter of fact.

  ‘And your parents knew, even before that, that you’d destroy anything that would stop you from doing what you wanted. When you overheard your parents at your wedding, you couldn’t have your father ruining your career and your future, so you got your father on his own, probably here, on the beach, where you beat him over the head, probably with a paddle, and then you put his body in the safety dinghy and motored out into the Solent, where you tipped him over the edge and into the sea, to let his body wash up under the Ryde Pier.’