freezing tendrils rolled up from the sea as dense as a featherbed wrapping itself around them like a cloak that smelt as though it had been doused in diesel, plastic, wood and salt. It was suffocating and evil. Above the booming foghorns he could hear the throb of the fire-engine pump but the rest was just silence. Not even the sound of laughter and music from the restaurants on the board-walk penetrated the thick grey blanket. It was as if they were suspended in time and place.
Cantelli broke the silence. 'This reminds me of a scene from The Ghost Breakers. Paulette Goddard inherits this West Indian mansion haunted by ghosts and zombies and surrounded by foggy water.'
Horton didn't think they'd meet any zombies, though he could name a few coppers down at the station that bore a remarkable resemblance to the species: DI Tony Dennings for one. But no, that was unfair of him. He was just piqued because Dennings had become Uckfield's DI on the major crime team, when Uckfield had promised him the job.
And ghosts…Horton felt as if they were all around him, which was ridiculous because he didn't even believe in them! As they drew nearer to the boat, he saw Cantelli shiver. His body tensed and Horton knew that he too had finally caught the scent of danger.
A tall man with a balding head and a round jolly face greeted them. 'Jim Maidment, Fire Investigation Officer.'
Horton bristled at his cheerful tone so out of place in the circumstances but he shook hands and did the introductions. Then he stared at the remains of what had once been a very large and no doubt very expensive motorboat. There was nothing supernatural about that. The tangibility of it made him feel better and once more in control. There wasn't much left of it, but Horton could see by its shape that it was a traditional trawler yacht rather than one of the sleek powerboat models. He guessed it was a Grand Banks.
Maidment said, 'We managed to get to it before it sank, and thankfully there were no boats either side otherwise the fire could easily have spread. He's over here.'
As Horton followed Maidment further down the pontoon he felt the anxious tightening in his stomach that always heralded the viewing of a corpse, only this time it was stronger than usual. He slowed his breathing and tried to relax his facial muscles. Glancing at Cantelli he knew he felt the same and was steeling himself to face the ordeal. At their feet was a small bundle covered by a grey blanket.
Horton didn't want the blanket removed. He sensed it as a defining moment. There's still time. Turn back, the silent voice urged him, but he had never ducked responsibility before or run away from danger, and he wasn't about to start now.
He nodded and Maidment drew back the blanket. Horton took a breath and stared at the leering, empty grin and hollow sockets of the roasted face, willing the contents of his stomach to stay in place. The smell of burnt flesh was overwhelming and sickening. The body had taken up a pugilistic attitude where the heat of the fire had contracted the muscles. It looked grotesque, like some evil goblin sent to ridicule him.
'Poor bugger,' Cantelli said quietly.
Maidment pointed to the right-hand side of the victim's head and, despite not wanting to look closer, Horton knew he had to.
'See here,' Maidment said, 'his skull's caved in. It looks to me as if he's been struck. We found him lying face down. His buttocks and the lower half of his back aren't quite so badly burnt because a cupboard fell on him and covered them from the worst of the flames.'
'How did the fire start?' asked Horton, nodding at Maidment to cover the victim.
The blackened, contorted face disappeared from sight, but not from Horton's mind. He heard Cantelli let out a long slow breath and felt like doing the same himself but didn't want to appear relieved in any way in front of Maidment. As they stepped away from the corpse, Cantelli once again resumed chewing his gum.
'It's difficult to tell without further investigation,' Maidment said, frowning and scratching his nose. 'It could have been a leaking gas cooker pipe and when he lit a match the whole thing blew, or gas could have built up in the bilges, and he went to light the cooker for his supper and bang, got blown off his feet and struck his head. But, with that hole in his skull, my guess is he was knocked out and someone threw a lighted match on to the boat to ignite the gas, having made sure the gas pipe was loosened beforehand.'
It wasn't a very nice way to go, except for the fact the poor man wouldn't have known much about it. If this was murder then whoever had done it was a very nasty piece of work.
Horton had already ruled out juveniles. Although they were responsible for most arson attacks, he doubted they would have picked on this particular boat when there were larger, more expensive ones closer to the car park and boardwalk to target. Besides, how would one of their typical juvenile arsonists from the inner city know the security code to get on to the pontoon?
'What's your feeling about this?' he asked Maidment, knowing that firefighters developed an instinct for this kind of thing much like coppers did.
Maidment replied instantly. 'Smells bad.'
Horton agreed. It stank to high heaven and that was discounting his premonitions about this place and this incident. 'Was the security gate open when the firefighters arrived?'
'The guy from the marina office was there to let us through.'
Locked then. But he'd check that. 'Any idea who he is?'
'There was no ID on him, or if there was, it's burnt to a crisp, like the poor sod himself.'
Addressing Cantelli, Horton said, 'Get the crime scene investigators here, Barney, and call Dr Clayton. Ask if she can take a look at him and officially certify death.'
He'd rather have the pathologist here than Dr Price, the police doctor, whom he considered to be verging on incompetent because of his drink problem. And Gaye Clayton might be able to give them some information about the victim's death that could put them on the trail of this killer quickly, which was what they needed. 'I'll notify DCI Bliss.'
As Horton rang through to her direct line, he recalled that Uckfield kept his motorboat in the marina. But it was moored on a different pontoon.
Bliss answered with her customary curtness. Horton quickly apprised her of the facts, told her he had called in SOCO and Dr Clayton, and that he was about to try and discover who their victim was.
'That's not our responsibility, Inspector. You can leave it to the major crime team. I'll call them in now.'
'We don't know for certain that it is a suspicious death until Dr Clayton confirms it.' He bristled at her icy tone.
'We're grossly understaffed, Inspector, and we have enough cases of our own, such as this mugging for example. What's happening about that?'
A man's dead, probably murdered, and you're worried about the mugging of an American tourist, he thought. And serious though it was, surely this took priority?
Crisply, he said, 'DC Walters is interviewing the victim at his hotel.'
'The attack occurred two hours ago. We've lost valuable time tracking down the criminals.'
For goodness' sake, who the devil did she think he was? A rookie?
Stiffly, he said, 'The uniformed response officers went in immediate search of the youths, without results. And the victim was too shocked to give an accurate description. He was taken to hospital-'
'And is that all I'll have to tell the local newspaper tomorrow? It doesn't do much for our image as a tourist destination, does it?'
Not to mention your clear-up rate, he thought. Christ, Uckfield was bad enough wanting quick results but Bliss wanted them to be instant.
'This should have been dealt with sooner.'
'If I had the manpower it would have been,' he retorted.
Five minutes into the job and she was breathing down his neck and criticizing every decision he made. It hadn't taken him long to discover that she was a control freak. If one of his officers so much as sneezed she knew the time, decibel level and direction of the sneeze before he did himself.
'I don't want excuses, Inspector Horton, I want results.' And she rang off.
'And up yours too,' he mumbled. He'd heard on the grapevine that she didn't intend staying a DCI for very long, and as far as he was concerned the sooner she moved on the better.
Cantelli came off the phone. 'Dr Clayton's on her way.'
'Good.' Despite of, or maybe because of, Bliss's instructions that this was Uckfield's province, Horton said, 'I'll
