'Their gain, Laura. I'm sure-' charmed Uckfield.
'To get back to Owen Carlsson,' Horton cut in tetchily, thinking they were wasting time. Uckfield scowled at him.
'Of course,' she said briskly. 'The results of the project will include a set of policy recommendations to deal with coastal erosion in a sustainable way, and, dependent on the findings, recommend how we should best deal with the increase of coastal storms and global warming. The Isle of Wight is one key area of this project. It has, as you might be aware, some serious coastal erosion problems, even where this house is situated. Owen was engaged on mapping the coastal erosion hazards, as well as providing an analysis of our shoreline, and an analysis of the sea around us.'
'How far had he got?' asked Horton.
'He started six months ago. It's a three-year project and Owen was going to move around Europe's coastline yearly to undertake studies in other key locations. There are some who would like to stall this report, however, others who might wish it never sees the light of day, and some who want to influence the policy recommendations for their own good, if it gets that far.'
'Like who?' asked Horton, more interested now there was a hint of a motive for Carlsson's murder.
'The marina development companies, the leisure boating industry, the fishing industry, property developers, and that's just for starters. There could be a great deal of money at stake if, for example, Owen's findings were to recommend no more marinas or property developments along coastal areas. Or that sea pollution and coastal erosion mean legislative changes and restrictions must be introduced in the leisure boating industry.'
'Can you be more specific? Company names would help.'
'Sorry, Inspector, I can't because I don't know exactly. I called Reg, the Chief Constable, when I heard about Owen's death because I was concerned that someone was determined to prevent this project from progressing. I've obviously had to report it to Brussels. The project's been put on hold and Europol have been notified, though I gather they're not going to investigate until they hear back from you.'
Now Horton could see another factor that had contributed to Uckfield's foul temper. If Uckfield had to hand this case over to the European Police, it would be a severe career blow for him and would really piss him off.
Laura Rosewood continued. 'It's been decided to keep any possible connection between Owen's death and the environmental project quiet for the time being until you've had time, Superintendent, to investigate it further. Owen's death might have nothing to do with the project and we don't want the alarmist press whipping up the story. You know how they love to dish the dirt on anything to do with the Commission.'
To Horton it made some sense, but if Owen had been murdered to prevent this project from progressing they'd probably never discover his killer. The case would be too complex, with too many possible suspects and the killer would have been professional and covered his tracks superbly.
With a sinking heart he said, 'And is the data Owen already collated lost because of the fire?'
'What fire?' she asked, alarmed.
Obviously hadn't heard about it on the local news then, but Uckfield said she'd only returned from London late last night.
'Owen's house was burnt down on Wednesday evening,' answered Horton.
'My God! And his sister? She wasn't…?'
'No.' Horton didn't see any need to tell her about his or Thea's close encounter.
Uckfield said, 'But she is missing.'
Horton would have preferred to have kept that quiet. And he didn't like the undertone of Uckfield's statement.
Laura said, 'Perhaps she's returned to Luxembourg?'
Horton answered. 'How did you know she lived there?'
'I had a meeting with Owen on the twenty-second of December in Brussels to discuss the project and he mentioned he was spending Christmas with his sister who lives in Luxembourg. I think he would have preferred to be with Arina, especially as she was upset over losing her father. I knew Sir Christopher very well. He was a keen supporter of the environment but I guess Owen had promised his sister and didn't feel he could let her down.'
Horton wondered why Arina hadn't invited both Thea and Owen to Scanaford House; it was big enough to accommodate a football team. But maybe Arina had had other friends to stay. Or perhaps she'd already met Thea and hadn't liked her, or vice versa. He frowned as speculations spiralled freely and didn't much care for where they were taking him.
Laura looked thoughtful for a moment. 'Thea Carlsson didn't set fire to the house by any chance, did she?'
'Why do you say that?' asked Horton sharply.
She shrugged. 'Anger at her brother's death? Despair? Who knows what people are capable of when they're distraught. When Jack died I wanted to lash out at anyone and everything. It passes, but only to be replaced by other emotions equally destructive, like overwhelming sadness. Have you considered that Owen's sister might have been trying to kill herself by setting fire to the house and has now gone off somewhere to try again?'
They hadn't because Horton knew of the intruder, but he hadn't considered the possibility that Thea's grief over her brother's death might have led her to walk out of that hospital with the intention of committing suicide. For a brief and startling moment thoughts of his mother flashed into his mind. Could that have been her intention? No suicide note had been found in the flat, or at least had been given to him. His neighbour had told him recently that his mother had been dressed up and happy on the day of her disappearance. But could she have been mistaken? He'd never once considered her suicide as a possibility. There was no time to analyse it further but he cursed his stupidity for not thinking it a possibility where Thea was concerned. If she had intended killing herself then he guessed she was already dead. His heart felt heavy at the thought.
Laura rose, looking worried. 'Does Terry know about the fire?'
'Not unless someone's told him,' answered Uckfield.
And Horton knew they hadn't because no one could find him. He hadn't known that the Shetland Islands was so big, but at the briefing this morning he'd learnt from Trueman, that it comprised over a hundred islands, fifteen of them inhabited. That made it incredibly difficult to track Knowles down, especially when the man wasn't answering his mobile phone; maybe he couldn't get a signal.
Clearly agitated, Laura said, 'I hope to God that Owen emailed his report to Terry, or kept a back-up copy off the premises. I need to call Terry.'
She made as if to leave when Uckfield halted her. 'We can't get through on his mobile. Do you have another contact number for him?'
'I'll try his office; someone must know where he's staying.'
Horton said, 'We've already tried them. He only left them his mobile number because he was going to be moving about the islands.'
But Knowles had arrived there, Trueman had reported. He'd been on the eight forty-five flight to Glasgow from Southampton Airport on Wednesday morning and had checked in for the thirteen thirty flight from Glasgow to Sumburgh on the Shetland Islands. After that he had gone walkabout. Knowles' office had told Trueman that Knowles wasn't due to meet up with the people who had developed a new system to harness the wind for energy until Tuesday.
Horton said, 'Would Mr Knowles' secretary know if Owen had emailed his report to him before he went missing?'
'I'll get her to check his e-mails.'
'Before you do,' Horton quickly added, 'there are just a few more questions. We won't take up too much more of your time.'
She gave a brief tight smile but didn't resume her seat.
Horton said, 'Would Owen have sent his findings to the European Translation Centre?'
She looked hopeful. 'He might have done.'
And if Thea had been given Owen's findings to translate into Danish, Swedish or German, and her brother had been killed because of it, then so might she have been, he considered gloomily.
With a note of finality to her voice, Laura said, 'I'll check and let you know.'
But Uckfie
ld was not to be hurried. He reached for the last chocolate biscuit. 'Do you know Jonathan Anmore?'
Laura Rosewood looked surprised at the question. 'I've seen him once or twice at Scanaford House. He's the gardener. Why?'
'He's dead.'
Her eyes widened. 'You mean he's been killed?' She looked at each of them in turn with a bewildered expression. 'But this is dreadful. How?'
'He was stabbed.'
Horton studied her as she assimilated this new information. Clearly she was shocked and puzzled by it. Her expression serious, she said, 'And you believe there is a connection between his death and Owen's. But if that's so then Owen's death can't have anything to do with the project.' Relief suddenly flooded her face. 'I'm sorry I can't be more helpful but I need to call Brussels.' This time she headed for the door with a purpose that not even Uckfield could ignore. He swallowed the remains of his coffee, rose and reached out a card to her.
'Call me personally as soon as you have any further information.'
And even if you don't, Horton interpreted Uckfield's gaze. She promised she would and judging by her expression Horton didn't think it would be a chore. But he hadn't quite finished yet. 'Do you know Bella Westbury?' he asked on the doorstep.
'Yes. She's very active on the environmental front, and she was Sir Christopher's housekeeper.'
'And Roy Danesbrook?' Horton thought he might as well ask. He expected Laura Rosewood to look blankly at him but she didn't. Instead a flicker of distaste crossed her face before she answered with a tight smile.
'He runs a charity called Wight Earth and Mind. Sir Christopher was its patron.'
'It's an environmental charity?' asked Horton, surprised. From his brief encounter with Danesbrook he wouldn't have marked him down as a friend of the earth type.
'I believe so, though you'll have to ask Mr Danesbrook about it.'
'You don't like him?' probed Horton, noting her curt tone.
'I don't know him, but let's say that what I have seen of the man, which isn't much, doesn't exactly endear me to him. Over the last year he seemed to worm his way into Sir Christopher's life. I couldn't really understand what Christopher saw in him and although that was his business I couldn't help thinking that Mr Danesbrook was taking advantage of an elderly, sick man.'
And that, thought Horton with an inner nod of satisfaction, was his sentiment exactly.
TWELVE
' All we need to do now is prove that this Danesbrook has gone off his trolley again, and is running around killing anyone connected with the Suttons,' Uckfield said in the car.
We'll need more than that, thought Horton, and so will the CPS. He said, 'Owen's death could still have something to do with this project.'
'Yeah, and I'm Bugs Bunny. What she said was a load of old bollocks and the chief's got hold of the wrong end of the stick,' Uckfield continued. 'If you ask me the motive for Owen Carlsson's murder and Anmore's is much simpler, and closer to home, than some piffling European environmental project.'
Horton didn't think Laura Rosewood would go a bundle on the word 'piffling' but he agreed with Uckfield.
Picking a piece of biscuit from his teeth, while managing to change gear at the same time, Uckfield continued, 'I reckon Danesbrook had a thing for the old boy, Sir Christopher, and when he heard Arina Sutton plotting with her boyfriend, Owen, to kill off her old man — you know, easing his passing by putting a pillow over his head — Danesbrook flipped and killed them both.'
Horton didn't see Danesbrook as the caring kind, more the sucking-up type to gain some personal advantage. 'And what about killing Anmore?'
Uckfield shrugged. 'Maybe Danesbrook thought he was in on it too.'
Horton flashed Uckfield an incredulous look. 'Bit weak that, and it doesn't explain where Thea is or who set fire to her house.'
'You want sugar on it?'
No, just answers, thought Horton, falling silent as Uckfield drove more sedately back to the station. He didn't believe Uckfield's theory for one minute. OK, so he didn't know what Sir Christopher's sexual and personal tastes had been but he just couldn't see him falling for a weasel like Danesbrook. He wouldn't mind betting though that Danesbrook was involved somehow. And it was time to question him. It was also time to call his solicitor about Catherine proposing to send Emma away to school, but both would have to wait because Somerfield and Marsden were back from interviewing Charlie Anmore and Horton was keen to hear what they had to report.
Kate Somerfield said, 'The old man is pretty cut up as you'd imagine. Jonathan Anmore was his only child. He'd been divorced for ten years. He's got two boys who his wife won't let him see, out of spite, Charlie Anmore claims. He says she took Jonathan for every penny he had. Jonathan returned to the Isle of Wight from the mainland ten years ago and took over his father's gardening business. Yesterday Jonathan came home at one o'clock for his dinner.'
That fitted with Horton seeing him at Scanaford House just after midday. He asked Trueman if he'd managed to trace the call Anmore had taken on his mobile phone as he'd left him.
'Still working on it,' came the reply.
Marsden took up the reporting. 'Jonathan then went out again just after two. Charlie hadn't heard Jonathan mention Owen Carlsson but he did know Arina Sutton was a customer of his son's.'
Uckfield said, 'Any special friends or girlfriends, rumours about his love life, grudges against him?'
'No.'
Horton asked, 'Did Anmore have any connection with environmental groups?'
'No. He liked sailing-'
'Yes, we saw the boat,' Uckfield said sarcastically.
'And he liked shooting,' Marsden added with a note of triumph. 'According to his father, Jonathan was a crack shot when he was in the RAF. He served six years as a mechanic before leaving to study landscape gardening at college on the mainland where he met his wife. Charlie didn't know where Jonathan kept his gun or what type it was. He said he'd never seen it. We searched the house and there was no sign of a gun or a licence.'
Uckfield turned on Trueman. 'Any gun found in the barn?'
'No.'
Horton could see what Uckfield was thinking, that it could have been used on Owen Carlsson and then discarded.
Uckfield sprang up. 'Right. Marsden, go back to the gun clubs and see if Anmore was ever a member or guest. While you're at it ask if Roy Danesbrook is too. Somerfield, get on to the Child Support Agency, find out if Anmore's behind with his payments. Talk to his wife on the phone and get the true story on the divorce. And then start going through the things you bagged up from Anmore's room. I'm going to report to the chief.'
Horton stepped out of the station and, sheltering from the rain in the doorway, punched in Framptons' telephone number.
'Andy, are you back from holiday?' Frances Greywell said moments later.
'No. I've got caught up in this case on the Isle of Wight. Catherine wants to send Emma away to school. Emma doesn't want to go. She rang me. I don't want her to go.'
There was a short pause. 'I'll speak to her solicitor.'
He rang off with the impression that whatever Frances Greywell said to Catherine's solicitors he'd somehow still fail his daughter. Staring at the rain he understood how and why some men were forced to kidnap their children, hang off tall buildings, climb bridges and throw eggs at politicians in Parliament for the right to have a say in their children's lives. Divorce was shit. He felt like shit. Would it matter if he walked away from this case now and went to try and reason with Catherine? He'd get a bollocking, but that was nothing. He could cope with that. And yet he didn't move. Part of him said that Catherine was beyond reasoning with, and that he'd achieve nothing by confronting her, while the other part said he should at least try. Then there was Thea.
A car drew up. Cantelli climbed out. The decision had been made for him.
'How did it go with Carlsson's solicitor?' Horton asked, noting but not wanting to acknowledge his relief.
'I'll tell you over a cup of tea, a bacon sandwic
h and chips. I'm starving.'
Cheered by Cantelli's breezy manner, and with the sudden real ization that he was hungry too, Horton pushed aside his anxiety and melancholia and was soon tucking into a ham roll, chips and salad. Impatient to hear what Cantelli had learnt, he knew though that he'd have to wait until the sergeant's first bite into his bacon sandwich.
'Owen Carlsson left everything to Thea,' Cantelli said with his mouth full. 'At a rough estimate he's worth about eight hundred thousand pounds which includes the house. It didn't have a mortgage. Carlsson and his sister inherited a substantial sum on their parents' death. Thea's was in trust until she became twenty-one. Now she'll get her brother's share.'
'If she's still alive.' Horton didn't like to think that was a motive for murder although he could see that Cantelli had considered it, and so too would Uckfield when he heard Cantelli's news. He told Cantelli what Laura Rosewood had said about Thea possibly being suicidal.
Cantelli said, 'With her parents dead, her brother murdered, and the house and belongings gone up in smoke, I'd say she had good reason to be depressed. Did she strike you as being the type?'
'Is there a type?'
'I guess not.' Cantelli took a gulp of coffee. Horton knew Cantelli was recalling the dark days of Horton's suspension. After Catherine had chucked him out he'd come within minutes of throwing himself off his yacht. It had been Cantelli's friendship that had been partly responsible for helping him through it. When he'd stopped drinking, anger had taken the place of self-pity. It had driven him to clear his name, but by then it was too late to save his marriage.
Stabbing a chip, he said, 'So what else did you get?'
'Arina Sutton made her last will at the same time as her father, which was in September. The solicitor, Newlands, says they had no relatives so Arina was happy to bequeath her estate to the same charities as Sir Christopher had made bequests to. He left most of his estate to Arina with four major bequests and there was quite a tidy sum to leave. The estate is worth over four million.'
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