Death Lies Beneath dah-8

by Pauline Rowson

  ‘I never saw him with it,’ Kirby quickly replied, surprised, ‘and he has never mentioned a woman, not even after he was diagnosed with cancer or when he went into hospital two weeks ago.’

  ‘This one gave him up to the police.’

  ‘Ah.’

  Horton could see Kirby’s mind racing to work out the implications of this piece of news. It didn’t take him long. ‘You think Woodley was paid to find and kill her.’

  ‘It’s one possibility but there’s still a great deal unexplained and I was hoping Garvard would explain it.’

  ‘You might not have much joy. He’s slipping in and out of consciousness and it’s likely that soon he won’t come out of it.’

  Horton would have to try, though. ‘What’s he like?’

  Kirby didn’t even pause to consider his answer. ‘Clever, manipulative, shrewd, genial, charming.’ After a moment, he added, ‘And embittered. Yes, I’d say embittered. And now I know his girlfriend shopped him that explains a lot about his manner.’

  ‘How?’

  Kirby’s forehead creased in a frown as he seemed to weigh up his answer. ‘When I say embittered, I don’t mean he went around swearing to get revenge or was outwardly cynical but you got the sense that something was going on inside him that you would never get him to reveal, it was as though he was hugging a secret, and not a happy one. It was a silent bitterness if that makes any sense.’

  Yes, Horton thought it did.

  Kirby continued. ‘Garvard was clever, or I should say is clever, he’s not dead yet. Outwardly he was no trouble but you got this feeling between your shoulder blades that he was somehow always one step ahead of you, that he knew more than you did and what he knew was far more important than what you’d ever know.’

  Horton had known other villains like that. And the profile Kirby was painting fitted that of a con man. ‘How did he interact with the other prisoners?’

  ‘He never caused any trouble and they never gave him any trouble, but. .’ Kirby paused again to consider his reply. ‘You couldn’t pinpoint it but you had this feeling that whatever was going down he was behind it somehow.’

  Horton quickly read between the lines. ‘The attack on Stapleton?’

  ‘Nobody said anything and there was never any proof that Garvard was behind it, which was why it wasn’t mentioned in the report, and of course I didn’t know about the woman, but yes, now I can see it is possible. He could have persuaded Stapleton’s minders to go AWOL. And, yes, he could have persuaded Woodley to attack Stapleton.’ Kirby looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, ‘This might sound daft, but it’s possible that Garvard could even have persuaded Stapleton to allow himself to be attacked.’

  Horton rapidly considered this. It wasn’t so daft. ‘In exchange for what?’

  ‘Money. It’s why he didn’t want to be let out on licence for his remaining days in his weakened condition, in case some of the villains or victims he stitched up came after him, and it’s why we’ve got a prison officer sitting with him at the hospital. Garvard could have offered Stapleton information on where this money is.’

  And Sharon might not have known where Garvard had put all the money from their scams. Perhaps he hadn’t trusted her, which would have given her another reason to grass on him. Or was this just another of his cons? Another thought occurred to Horton. ‘Could Garvard have been a gang master here instead of or in addition to Stapleton?’

  ‘There’s never been any evidence to suggest that, or that he had a power base, but like I said he’s a clever, cunning bugger. He must have known that even if we discovered he was behind the attack he wouldn’t be moved because he’d been diagnosed with cancer, although there was a time when we were considering transferring him to Kingston Prison in Portsmouth. He stayed in the prison sick bay there while he underwent a six-week course of radiotherapy treatment in June, last year, at Queen Alexandra Hospital Portsmouth, accompanied by a prison officer, of course. It made sense for him to stay at Kingston Prison rather than travel back and forth on the ferry, locked in the back of a prison van. And he was ill.’

  Thoughts rushed through Horton’s mind and paramount in them was the possibility that he’d found another connection between the Willards and Garvard and a more recent one than 2001. Who had given Garvard his radiotherapy treatment? Had it been Fiona Wright, Dr Gaye Clayton’s friend and the woman who had been sailing a dinghy the night Sharon Piper had arrived at the boatyard for her meeting with Gregory Harlow? But he didn’t see Fiona Wright as Sharon’s killer and he certainly didn’t see her as Harlow’s murderer.

  With a keen interest he said, ‘Why did he go to Portsmouth for treatment?’

  ‘There was a problem with the equipment at the hospital here. I don’t know all the details but someone from the medical staff can give you that.’ Kirby tapped into his computer. ‘I can give you the start and finish dates of the treatment but not the exact times of his appointments, the hospital can tell you.’

  Kirby handed the printout to Horton. He scanned it briefly before folding it and pushing it in his pocket. ‘Has Garvard named anyone to be notified on his death?’

  Kirby again consulted his computer. ‘No.’

  Horton rose and thanked him warmly. On his way across the road to the hospital, he rang Trueman and relayed what Kirby had told him. He asked him to find out if Amelia Willard had undergone radiotherapy for her cancer and if so when. He couldn’t see quite how it joined up yet but he was convinced it did.

  Trueman said, ‘Eames has reported back. Foxbury has an alibi for Tuesday afternoon and evening and for Thursday night. He was with his wife Thursday night. They had some friends over for supper and it sounds kosher. When Foxbury was showing Marsden and Eames out, away from his wife’s flapping ears, Eames said he grudgingly gave them the name of the woman he was with on Tuesday, and it’s not Sharon Piper. She’s checking her out now.’

  So Foxbury looked as though he wasn’t involved. It was a blow. Into his mind flashed Ballard and as quickly he discounted him. He had no reason to believe that Sharon Piper had been anywhere near a boat, except for the ferry that had probably brought her to Portsmouth, and Trueman was still checking that.

  The hospital staff, and the prison officer keeping Garvard company, had been told to expect him. Horton was shown swiftly into the bland single room. It had the smell of death about it. The cavernous man on the bed bore no resemblance to the photograph Horton had seen on the police computer of a dark-haired, rugged good-looking man with a square jaw and blue eyes. Garvard appeared to be asleep.

  ‘He drifts in and out of consciousness,’ the prison officer said quietly. ‘You might have a long wait.’

  As it happened Horton didn’t. Perhaps Garvard sensed his presence. Horton pulled up a chair and sat close to Garvard’s emaciated body. The eyes flickered open and took a while to focus, when they did Horton withdrew his warrant card and introduced himself. Garvard smiled weakly. ‘Took your time. Didn’t think you’d make it.’

  Horton had to lean closer to the deathly grey face to hear. He steeled himself not to recoil at the smell of death. ‘You could have made it easier,’ he answered, ‘and saved two people from being killed.’

  ‘Why? She deserved it.’

  ‘Did she?’

  Garvard frowned but he was too weak to show too much emotion or reaction. Horton could see that he was drawing strength from reserves that would soon be exhausted. After this last effort it wouldn’t be long. He needed to get as much information as he could from him on this visit because he knew it would be the final and only time Garvard would speak.

  Horton beckoned the prison officer over. ‘Take notes.’

  The slim man in his thirties reached for a notepad and pen and Horton silently thanked the heavens that he’d got someone prepared and bright. He nodded to say he was ready. Horton said, ‘Tell me about Ellie.’

  Garvard opened his eyes. ‘Sharon killed her.’ His strained voice was barely above a whisper. ‘She was jeal
ous. I loved her.’

  Horton could see the effort to speak was costing him dear. He wasn’t without pity or sympathy, but he couldn’t condone what this man had done. He said, ‘I’ll explain and you can correct me when I go wrong and agree where I indicate.’ It wouldn’t hold up in a court of law but this man was never going to go before one again, certainly not in this world.

  Garvard nodded fractionally to show he understood.

  ‘You met Amelia and Edgar Willard when they were on holiday in Spain staying at the villa rented by their niece, Sharon Piper. You were there working a time-share or property scam.’

  ‘The latter. 1997.’

  ‘Sharon saw through you immediately as you tried to get money from her, her husband having left her with a house, a boat and a life-insurance policy. You were two of a kind, you both had a desire for money and were clever, crooked and cunning enough to know how to get it from people and then invest it to make more for you rather than the people you conned into giving it to you in the first place.’

  ‘Yes.’ The word came out as a breath.

  ‘You even managed to get Edgar Willard to invest in one of your bogus schemes, which effectively took all his savings and eventually forced his widow to sell up and move to a smaller house.’

  Garvard gave a slight shake of his head. Horton held the man’s weary pain-filled eyes. And then he realized what Garvard was silently telling him.

  ‘Or rather Sharon managed to get Edgar to invest in one of your schemes, or was it one of hers?’

  Garvard closed his eyes as though to indicate that it was. But was that the truth? Kirby had said that Garvard was manipulative. Perhaps Garvard wanted them to believe Sharon had been the mastermind behind the fraud. The lies went deep in this investigation, just as Ellie and Sharon had ended up, deep under that quay.

  He continued, ‘You met Ellie Loman at the Willards’ house when they were celebrating their pearl wedding anniversary. Rawly Willard, Ellie’s work colleague and the man who worshipped the ground she walked on, had invited her. Ellie and you began an affair. She arranged to meet you on Sunday the first of July and you went out on your boat together for the day. Was Sharon with a prospective client tricking him into parting with his money? She was very good at that. A stunningly attractive woman, sexy, convincing.’

  Garvard opened his eyes.

  Horton knew he’d guessed correctly. So who had Sharon been with that day? Had she managed to con him? And had this man recognized her at the crematorium, or perhaps even before then, when she had arrived in the UK, and killed her for revenge or in a rage when she refused to give back his money? Swiftly he brought his mind back to the man on the hospital bed and the events of that long-ago summer. ‘Sharon knew about your affair. And she knew where you would drop Ellie off after your day out in the Solent? How?’

  Garvard shook his head slightly.

  ‘You don’t know? Perhaps she’d overheard you making arrangements,’ but Horton had another thought. Perhaps someone had told Sharon and that someone was Harry Foxbury because he had seen them leave from the sailing-club jetty or from the quayside in his boatyard. On a Sunday nobody would have been working in the yard but Foxbury could have been there. And perhaps Foxbury told Sharon because he fancied her or had had a fling with her. Horton didn’t think Foxbury would ever have been one of Sharon’s victims because he was too fly for that. But even if he had told Sharon, Foxbury it seemed was in the clear for her murder and hadn’t met her on Tuesday afternoon.

  He continued. ‘Sharon went to the boatyard and waited for you to return, staying out of sight until Ellie got off the boat and waved you goodbye. As she made to leave, Sharon stepped out from where she’d been hiding, hit Ellie violently on the back of the head and then pushed her body into the sea. Maybe you turned and saw it, or perhaps when Ellie didn’t show for the next meeting with you, you became suspicious. When Ellie was reported missing you guessed that Sharon had to be behind it.’

  Horton glanced at the prison officer, who nodded, he didn’t have much to write of Garvard’s end of the conversation but he was hopefully noting Garvard’s gestures and his summary of the situation.

  He said, ‘When she betrayed you to the police she knew she was safe from being implicated because if you uttered one word about her killing Ellie, she would tell the police where to find Ellie’s body and swear blind you’d killed her. There would be evidence on your boat of Ellie’s presence and probably witnesses who had seen you on the boat together or when you had put in somewhere. You’d be done for murder and fraud. So you said nothing. Better to be convicted for fraud rather than a longer sentence for murder. You did your time.’

  ‘Die doing it. . got my revenge,’ Garvard croaked. Despite the weakness of his voice Horton could hear the bitterness in it.

  Garvard closed his eyes. Horton could see that soon he would drift into unconsciousness, possibly for the final time. But there was still much he needed to know. With new urgency he said, ‘How did you get Sharon to come back for the funeral? She was living in Spain. Did you know where?’

  Garvard gave a slight shake of his head. Horton thought there was a small smile on his lips.

  ‘How did she hear that her aunt had died?’

  Could Foxbury have kept in touch with her and told her? Or had Gregory Harlow known where Sharon was and told her, but why should he if Sharon wanted money from him? No, Gregory and Patricia Harlow had only placed an announcement in the local newspaper to let Amelia’s friends know about the funeral arrangements. And then it came to him. There was someone who could have contacted Sharon.

  ‘Fiona Wright.’

  Garvard’s eyes opened and although the man didn’t speak, Horton saw that he was right. Keenly he pressed on, as his mind scrambled to put together the pieces. ‘While undergoing your radiotherapy treatment you saw Amelia Willard at the hospital, she was also there for her radiotherapy treatment.’ Horton didn’t know this for a fact yet, but he was ready to stake his career on it, and the fact that somehow Garvard had got Fiona Wright involved.

  ‘You struck up a relationship with Fiona Wright. You pumped her for information on Amelia.’

  He reckoned that Garvard had wanted to know about Amelia’s cancer and the prognosis. Perhaps he’d even seen Patricia Harlow with her aunt. ‘You extracted a promise from Fiona Wright that when Amelia died she would get a message to Sharon and the only way she could do that — if it’s true you didn’t know where Sharon was living — was by placing announcements about the death in the national newspapers, or the Spanish ones, or both, hoping that Sharon would see it and act on it.’

  ‘Telegraph. Sharon always read it,’ Garvard replied falteringly. ‘Knew wouldn’t be able to resist. . money involved.’

  And that would be simple to check. Horton let out a breath, it was beginning to come together, but he still had more questions. He sat forward on the edge of the chair. ‘You had also arranged for Woodley to kill Sharon but it went wrong. Did Woodley refuse once he was on the outside? Did he get a message back to you inside that he’d changed his mind, and that he’d only agreed to it to get Stapleton off his back, the staged attack on Stapleton suited all three of you. So you had to arrange for someone to take him out? And someone to kill Sharon in the same place she killed and left Ellie Loman, because you wanted Ellie’s bones to be found. Who did you pay to kill Sharon and leave Daryl Woodley for dead after they’d bungled the first attack on him? Reggie Thomas? Or was it one of Marty Stapleton’s gang on the outside?’

  Horton saw a smile touch the dying man’s face. He’d got it wrong. Damn. He could see Garvard slipping away. Urgently he pressed on, ‘Who killed Sharon, Leo?’

  Garvard was deteriorating fast, the door opened and an angry nurse hurried in.

  ‘No more. You must leave now.’

  Horton was desperate. He glanced at the prison officer, who shrugged. The nurse glared at him. Ignoring her, Horton addressed the dying man. ‘Leo, who killed Sharon?’

  ‘Inspe
ctor, please,’ the nurse demanded.

  Horton rose. There was nothing more he could do. He turned to leave when a sound came from the bed. He spun round.

  ‘Got even with her,’ Garvard croaked. ‘Found Ellie. . See her soon. . loved her. .’ He slipped into unconsciousness.

  Disappointed, Horton left. Outside he asked the prison officer to sign the bottom of each page of notes and give them to him.

  ‘I didn’t get much of what you said, Inspector, but I got a few of the points you made and Garvard’s comments and reactions. Hope you can read my writing.’

  ‘It’s better than mine.’

  He was glad to get out in the fresh air even though it didn’t feel fresh. The day had turned sour and the sun was skulking behind a menacing dark sky. Elkins’ prediction of thunder looked like being fulfilled any moment. His head was pounding as he called up a patrol car and while waiting for it he paced the busy road chewing over the interview. Something Garvard said, or rather how he’d said it, struck him. It was those last words. Found Ellie. Did that mean he hadn’t known where her body had lain all these years or that by arranging to have Sharon killed there the police would discover Ellie’s remains? It had to be the latter, surely. And he had a sinking feeling that they would never discover who had killed Sharon Piper especially if Garvard had hired a professional killer via Stapleton’s contacts to do it. And Stapleton was never going to tell.

  He continued to mull this over as the patrol car drove him back to Fishbourne, where the police launch was waiting for him. Garvard had known that Sharon would return for her aunt’s cremation and had organized, through Fiona Wright, an announcement to be placed in the Daily Telegraph but neither he nor Fiona Wright could have arranged for Woodley’s funeral to be held on the same day, and none of the Woodley crowd had any involvement in the arrangements either. So was that just one of life’s coincidences? It seemed to be.

  Horton knew that Fiona Wright hadn’t killed Sharon Piper because Dr Clayton had given her a lift home. So if the killer wasn’t Gregory Harlow, Reggie Thomas, Harry Foxbury or a hired hit man then who else could it be? Think like Garvard, he urged his sluggish brain. Why would Woodley need that photograph of Sharon Piper? What was Woodley’s purpose if it wasn’t to kill Sharon? If Garvard knew that Ellie’s bones were at Tipner Quay then who else would he enlist to kill Ellie’s murderer? Then he had it. Kenneth Loman.