He sat back, deep in thought. He wouldn't mind reading all the articles that had been written over the years on the Gilmores. Not only might it give him valuable background information on their business, but it might spark some ideas of the 'wrong' that Brundall had mentioned to Gilmore, other than it being drug running or that skeleton. And there might be an article that carried a photograph of the fishermen, including Warwick Hassingham. Before he checked that though there was something he had to do.
He returned to the station, and sought out Uckfield. Without knocking he burst into his office. 'Catherine's taken Emma to Cyprus for Christmas. You told her about the fire.'
'I didn't-'
'Don't lie to me, Steve,' Horton snapped, scrutinizing him carefully. 'You told Alison and she went squealing to Catherine. Don't you know how much it meant to me to see Emma, and you've bloody ruined it?'
Uckfield rose and closed his office door. Turning back to face Horton he said, 'I didn't say a word to either of them. Alison's father read the report and mentioned it to Alison. I tried to stop her telling Catherine but I was too late.'
'And you expect me to believe that!' Horton cried contemptuously.
'You can believe what you damn well like, it's the truth,' Uckfield snapped. Then more quietly he added, 'Perhaps if you'd told her yourself, you could have stopped her taking Emma away.'
'When I want your advice on my personal life I'll ask for it.' And Horton swept out, fury and disappointment eating into him.
He was glad no one stopped him on his way to his office and that DCI Bliss wasn't around. He closed his office door and sat for some time staring at nothing. Did he believe Steve Uckfield? He didn't know. Had Catherine planned all the time to take Emma away? He knew it was pointless rushing out to Cyprus; Catherine would call it harassment and use it to further prevent him seeing his daughter. Cantelli's theory was that Catherine was jealous of Emma's love for him. Horton couldn't believe that, but why was Catherine so against him seeing Emma? He needed to find a way of getting to the truth of that. For now, though, he had other mysteries to solve and they might help distract him from his personal anger and frustration.
He powered up his computer and logged on to the press cuttings service that the constabulary used and entered a request for all the articles that had been published on Gilmores over the last twenty years to be sent to him by e-mail. He might only get the ones scanned to computer but it was a start.
He searched amongst the steadily rising pile of papers on his desk for the file on Jennifer Horton, but it wasn't there. He was disappointed. He had hoped to take it home that night. His phone rang and he was surprised to hear Cantelli's voice.
'How's the investigation going?'
Horton was tempted to tell him about the incident on his boat last night and Catherine's betrayal over Emma, but he didn't want to speak over the phone, and he guessed that Cantelli had enough on his plate. He said. 'I'll bring you up to date later.'
'Yeah, OK.' Cantelli hesitated.
'You've got enough to do, Barney.'
'Isabella and Tony have got it all pretty much sussed. If you don't mind, I'd like to come in tomorrow.'
Reading between the lines Horton thought Cantelli wasn't so much peeved that his older brother and sister had elbowed him out of making funeral arrangements, but that he was desperately looking for something to stop him brooding over his loss.
'I'll be glad to see you.' He rang off feeling that it wasn't right for Cantelli to work, but he knew that he couldn't prevent him from coming in. Cantelli's voice had sounded terse, and Horton recognized all too well the emotions behind it. The sergeant was in denial. He didn't want to believe or even think that his father had died, and he couldn't face talking about it or making funeral arrangements. Horton's heart went out to him and helped to ease his own pain over Emma. He made for the canteen where he found Dennings tucking into a Christmas dinner. Horton didn't really want to sit with him, but he didn't have much choice, as there wasn't anywhere else free.
'What did you get from Customs and Revenue and the Fishery Agency?' he asked, putting a plate of curry down in front of him.
'Gilmore is squeaky clean.'
'No one's that,' Horton replied.
'Well, the bugger's clever enough not to have got caught. I hear you had an accident last night on your boat.'
'Yeah.' Horton began to tackle the curry. It wasn't hot enough for his taste.
'And you think that it was Sebastian Gilmore?'
Uckfield had obviously been talking. Horton just hoped he hadn't told Dennings, or anyone else, where he was now living.
'No. Wrong build. I wouldn't be surprised though if he hired someone, just like he could have done to kill the others.'
Before Dennings could comment Horton's mobile rang. He listened for a while then rang off. 'That was Sergeant Elkins. The marina manager has confirmed that Gilmore's boat was moored up in Cowes marina on Tuesday night and he left Cowes Wednesday morning about ten thirty. Someone in the apartment block also saw Gilmore Wednesday morning just after nine thirty. He was alone.'
'What did he go there for?'
'I'll ask him when I see him.'
'Which you won't. It's my case, remember.'
'How could I forget?' Horton sipped his Coke and ate his curry.
Through a mouthful of turkey, Dennings said, 'I told the super that it was about time we hauled Sebastian bloody Gilmore in and formally questioned him.'
'I don't think Uckfield wants to do that without more evidence, knowing how influential Gilmore is.'
'Well, that's where you're wrong.' Dennings scraped back his chair. 'Because we're bringing him in tomorrow morning.'
'On what grounds?'
'That he might be our killer.'
Might wasn't good enough as far as Horton was concerned. Not with forceful characters like Sebastian Gilmore. You needed firm evidence or at least the appearance of it, and Horton knew they didn't have this. A solicitor would tear holes through their vague suspicions in seconds. He was surprised at Uckfield.
He said, 'Gilmore has an alibi for Brundall's death and Anne Schofield's.'
Dennings paused. Horton saw the triumphant, half cocky gleam in his eye. 'Alibis can be falsified.'
Had Dennings broken Sebastian Gilmore's alibi, he wondered as he watched him strut out of the canteen. If he had then Horton was annoyed he hadn't been told and peeved he hadn't discovered it himself. He tossed back his Coke, mentally running through the facts of the case. No, he was sure Dennings was bluffing. But he had a point. Could Sebastian Gilmore have lied about his whereabouts when Brundall was killed? If he had, then his daughter had also lied as had the sales director at Tri Fare. It wasn't beyond the realms of fantasy. And maybe it was worth putting some pressure on that sales director.
He rose and took his tray of used crockery back to the trolley next to the kitchen, earning himself a smile from the young catering assistant. He was confident that Dennings would get very little out of Sebastian Gilmore. Uckfield had probably agreed to it out of desperation that he was getting nowhere fast with the case.
Back in his office, Horton called Inspector Guilbert in Guernsey and updated him on the case, assuming that Dennings wouldn't have done so, and he was right.
'I'm interviewing Russell Newton tomorrow,' John Guilbert said. 'Anything in particular you want me to ask him?'
'Find out all you can about that party on board his boat. Who was there? Who did Brundall talk to? How well did Newton know him? You know the kind of thing. Oh, and there is one more thing you can ask…' Horton hesitated; he was going to ask Guilbert to find out from Newton if Brundall had ever mentioned Jennifer. But Horton couldn't quite bring himself to say it. 'Did Brundall ever talk about his past as a fisherman, or mention a man called Warwick Hassingham?'
That night Horton carefully checked outside the boat at Gosport Marina. There was no sign of anyone loitering and with the marine unit keeping a close eye, Horton was able to relax a little. Reac
hing his hands behind his head he lay on the bunk and deliberately forced his thoughts away from Catherine and Emma and on to the case.
Had Sebastian Gilmore killed Jennifer Horton because her boyfriend, Warwick, had told her about the drugs? Had his mother been a junkie and Warwick her supplier? He didn't remember her as such, but he didn't know the difference between his true memory and what other people, and his boyhood pain of rejection, had put there in its place.
Then another thought occurred to him. Had Warwick Hassingham's death really been an accident? Had Warwick been about to betray the others, or had he already betrayed them to Jennifer? Did the three other fishermen push Warwick over the side of that fishing boat? Did this Peter Croxton know that? He was threatening to tell, perhaps blackmailing Brundall and Sebastian Gilmore who from 1995 onwards had been very wealthy men. So he had been silenced and dumped in the air-raid shelter. It made sense except for the age of the skeleton. Could Gaye Clayton be mistaken?
Sebastian could have given Warwick's sister the job of accountant because of a guilt complex for killing her brother. But the secret that Brundall had wanted to confess to Rowland hadn't been killing Warwick; it had been murdering Peter Croxton and, once Rowland had heard that, he couldn't let it rest. He must have called his brother to tell him he was going to the police, and hence he'd been silenced. Like Dennings had said, alibis can be false. Anne Schofield was killed because she had found a confession that Rowland must have written and in it there had been something about Jennifer and how she had been involved back in 1977, which was why she had called Horton.
Horton rose and began to pace the boat, testing out his theory. After Warwick's 'accidental' death had Sebastian comforted Jennifer Horton as a means of finding out what she knew? Had Jennifer become a liability, so had to be killed? If so, which of them had done it? Sebastian or Brundall? Horton just couldn't see Rowland in that role. Well, Brundall was dead. But if Sebastian Gilmore had consigned him to those years of children's homes whilst he'd lived in comfort and security, then by God Horton would make him suffer. Who said revenge was a dish best served cold? Too right it bloody was and he would serve it right in Gilmore's face.
Twenty
Tuesday: 8 A.M.
H orton rose early and managed to clear a mountain of paperwork before Cantelli knocked and entered. Swiftly, Horton brought the sergeant up to date with events.
'So when are you going to tell me about almost being fried alive?' Cantelli declared.
Horton cursed silently. The station grapevine was working well. He could see that Cantelli was concerned and the last thing he wanted was him worrying. Light-heartedly he said, 'I was saving the best bit until last.'
'You should have called me.' Cantelli looked peeved.
'Barney, you've got enough to cope with at the moment-'
'That's no reason to neglect my friends.'
Horton was warmed by Cantelli's words. It was typical of him to consider others even in the depths of his own sorrow. And Horton knew how deep that was. He could see by the haunted look in his dark eyes, sunk like caverns in his lean face, that Cantelli had had little sleep and was grieving inside. He should be with his family; this wasn't the place for him but Horton could hardly order him home.
Cantelli said, 'I hear the boat's a write-off. So, where are you staying?'
Horton had to tell him. He trusted Cantelli more than anyone else. He glanced at his door; it was open but there was no one immediately outside. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice as he said, 'Elkins got me a billet on this boat in Gosport Marina. It's like living in Buckingham Palace after slumming it on poor little Nutmeg. No one knows except Elkins, PC Ripley, Uckfield and you. I'd rather it stay that way until I know who's after me.'
'But why, Andy? Why you? And don't give me all that stuff about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I know it's tosh.'
Horton sat back and frowned. He should have guessed that Cantelli would see through him, and that he would get to the nub of the matter before either Uckfield or Dennings. Yet, it was difficult for Horton to speak of his mother. He felt this was a defining moment. Should he tell Barney, or whitewash it? But Cantelli deserved more than waffle. This was the man who had stood by him no matter what had been said about his morals, behaviour and professional conduct. Cantelli deserved the truth. After a moment he said, 'Close the door, Barney.'
Cantelli did as he was told. When he was seated, Horton told him about the newspapers in Gilmore's study, the conversation that Gutner had overheard and his fears about his mother's involvement. He didn't find it easy. He tried to speak dispassionately, as though he was giving a report, and yet he couldn't ignore the tension inside him. Maybe it showed in his voice? If it did then Cantelli gave no sign he saw it. Cantelli was the first and only person inside the force he had ever spoken to about Jennifer.
The sergeant listened in silence, looking at first puzzled and then deeply concerned, but not pitying. Horton was glad; he couldn't have stomached that, but then he wouldn't have expected pity from Cantelli. Even though Cantelli had never known the kind of rejection that Horton had experienced, having been raised in a loving family, Horton knew from working with him over the years that he felt it and understood. He could see it in his expression, too. Cantelli was one of only a handful of people who already knew that he'd been raised in children's homes and with foster parents, though they rarely spoke of it. Why should they? Horton had consigned it to history until now..
Cantelli said, 'So we need to tackle Sebastian Gilmore and find out what the bastard knows. No more pussy-footing round gymnasiums and swimming pools.'
Horton was heartened by Cantelli's fervour and yet reigned in by it. Maybe that was what Cantelli had wanted to achieve. A kind of reverse psychology. Now he was beginning to think like a bloody shrink.
'Dennings is bringing him in this morning. If he'll come,' Horton added.
Knowing Sebastian, Horton reckoned it would only be in the company of his solicitor. Sebastian Gilmore was smart; they'd get nothing out of him. But before Horton could comment further his phone rang and he was surprised to hear Selina Gilmore's voice.
'My father's not come home. I'm worried.'
She should be telephoning Dennings, but she had asked for him, probably because he was the only detective she had met on the case.
'I didn't realize he hadn't come home until our housekeeper told me. She said that Dad had not been down for breakfast and he always is by six thirty sharp. I called his office and I've tried his mobile, but there's no answer.'
Horton didn't like the sound of this. Could Sebastian Gilmore have done a runner, believing the police to be on his tail? Had Dennings or someone else in the station warned him he was about to be brought in for questioning? But would a man like Gilmore run away? Horton doubted it. Would he leave his house, business and daughter? Perhaps he had wealth stashed away in some offshore account and Selina was in on this too? Should he tell Dennings? Like hell he would.
'We'll meet you at the office in ten minutes.' Replacing his phone he addressed Cantelli. 'That was Selina Gilmore. Her father's gone missing.'
On the way to Gilmore's offices Horton was tempted to tell Cantelli about Catherine taking Emma away but decided against it. He knew Cantelli would be upset and angry on his account and Horton didn't want to burden him with more of his problems. Instead, Horton wondered aloud if his interview with Janice Hassingham had spooked Gilmore.
Cantelli said, 'Maybe he's with a woman his daughter knows nothing about.'
It was possible, Horton thought, as Cantelli drew up outside the office. It was raining heavily, but the yard was humming with activity.
'Gilmore's car is here,' Horton said. It was parked next to Selina's Mercedes. 'Perhaps he's shown up.'
But Selina greeted them in her office, along the corridor from her father's, with a worried frown. 'Dad returned from his conference in London late yesterday afternoon. I left him here at seven o'clock,' she said, looking understandably concerned.
'He said he had some things to attend to. I went home, had a shower, changed and then went out with some friends for a meal. I didn't get back until midnight; I thought Dad had gone to bed. When I got up he wasn't in the house and his car had gone from the garage so I assumed he'd come to work. But he's not here. I've checked everywhere and asked around. No one's seen him.'
Horton saw the fear in her eyes and heard the concern in her voice. If her father had run out, and she was party to it, then she was a damn good actress.
'Was your father's car in the garage at home last night?'
'I don't know. I didn't look. I caught a taxi home. I'd been drinking.'
'Is there anywhere he could have gone?'
'I've tried all his friends and contacts. The manager at Cowes Marina said Dad's not there and his boat is still at Horsea Marina. Our housekeeper at our place in Portugal hasn't seen or heard from him. Do you think something could have happened to him? If it has then I blame you; you should have given him protection.'
Her voice was getting louder and angrier.
Horton said evenly, 'How did he seem yesterday?'
'His usual self.'
'He didn't seem worried or preoccupied about anything?'
'Only business matters, but that was normal.' Her phone rang. She snatched it up.
Horton crossed to the window and looked down into the yard. Across the car park he could see one of Gilmore's two warehouses. There was a forklift truck whizzing in and out with a flashing light and a bleeping sound. The rain swept in off the sea in a blanket of grey. He heard Selina say, 'Can't Bill deal with it?' Then Horton's attention was caught by a man rushing out of the warehouse. He was calling something out to a colleague who immediately dropped what he was holding and the two men ran back inside the warehouse. Horton spun round.
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