'Andy…'
He heard the pleading in her voice but he ignored it. 'I'm not going to let another man have Emma. She's all I've got.'
'Andy-.'
But he rang off.
CHAPTER 11
Monday
The discovery on Monday afternoon that the water found on Thurlow's boat definitely contained traces of Hypovase clinched it for Uckfield. Melissa Thurlow was to be brought in for questioning. Her fingerprints had also been found on both the water and tablet bottles but as Horton told Uckfield, you would expect them to be on both if she had packed her husband's sailing bag. It certainly wasn't enough to arrest her, but Horton agreed that the letters, and the fact that a car like hers had been seen in the car park on the night Culven was killed, and that she had no alibi, was sufficient to question her.
Horton knew that Uckfield was keen to get the case cleared up before Friday, the day of his promotion board. He wanted it solved himself. He felt a growing sense of urgency. Catherine's call had made him even more acutely aware of the fact that time was running out. He couldn't afford to fail.
He'd spent yesterday working through Culven's case files, in particular the ones that concerned Jarrett and Thurlow. It made interesting reading. The work that Culven had done for Thurlow was pretty routine stuff, employment contracts with, surprisingly, a couple of recent redundancy settlements. Calthorpe hadn't been telling the truth when he said that Thurlow had no financial worries. Time to call the bank and the accountants. For Jarrett, Culven's work was more complex. There were several acquisitions and property transactions, both UK based and overseas. Sifting through legal jargon had never been his speciality but someone on the economic crime group, which was part of SID, could help him. Or they might have done but for the fact he'd alert them of his intentions towards Jarrett. He couldn't afford to do that because he didn't know who was protecting Jarrett. He would just have to continue to wade his way through them and make some telephone calls.
Taylor confirmed that Thurlow had been dragged to the tower in a tender. Horton guessed it was the missing one from the Free Spirit. He called the marinas and yacht basins in Chichester and Langstone harbours, and spoken to the harbour masters, but neither had any record of the Free Spirit mooring up over Friday night, anywhere. That didn't mean she hadn't. As Horton knew it was easy to pick up a buoy in one of the harbours and go unnoticed.
Earlier that morning he'd designated a team to the painstaking business of tracing and contacting all boat owners in the Emsworth Channel and Northney Marina, both of which were within easy reach of Warlingham Tower. Someone might have seen the Free Spirit over the weekend. If that didn't yield any results then he'd widen the area to include Sparkes Yacht Harbour where Charles Calthorpe kept his boat. The discovery of another body had fuelled the excitement in the station, and when Melissa Thurlow was brought in Horton could feel it shift up another gear. He took the seat opposite her in the stifling hot interview room. She looked a little nervous but then, he thought, who wouldn't. His eyes flickered across to the solicitor beside her. He was perspiring freely, dressed as if for winter in a dark blue suit. Just looking at him made Horton break out in a sweat. Uckfield slowly removed his jacket and hung it carefully on the back of the chair as if it was made of such delicate material that it would disintegrate if treated harshly. He lowered himself carefully on to the hard seat opposite the lawyer.
Kate Somerfield stood, her feet firmly planted a little apart, hands clasped behind her back with her back to the closed door. Horton caught her glance but she stared steadily ahead not acknowledging him. He knew it was more than just professionalism that made her react like that. He was aware that she was from the no smoke without fire brigade as far as Lucy Richardson and her claims were concerned.
The poky room was airless and smelt of body odour and disinfectant. It was like sitting inside a tin can, Horton thought. There were no windows but he could hear the hum of the traffic outside and occasionally the sirens of the police cars as they sped out of the station.
His thoughts had taken him through Uckfield's usual routine with the tape. The lawyer introduced himself as Robert Otton. Horton wasn't that impressed with him. He could smell garlic on his breath. Dandruff was scattered on his collar from his rather flat, dark greasy hair and cigarette ash lay on the lapels of his jacket.
Uckfield began quietly. 'Mrs Thurlow, you understand why you are here, don't you?' Otton interrupted him, 'Chief Inspector, you can't possibly believe that Mrs Thurlow had anything to do with either her husband's death or with Mr Culven's.'
Horton watched as the solicitor mopped his brow. Melissa Thurlow looked cool. She was sitting back in her chair, her posture stiff and upright. Her head was slightly bowed staring at her hands in her lap as though she was going to paint them from memory later. She had abandoned her shorts in favour of pale cream, lightweight linen trousers worn with a light green silk blouse. She would have been better off with the duty solicitor, Horton thought. Uckfield would run rings round this one.
'Why did you kill your husband, Mrs Thurlow?' Uckfield said sharply, ignoring Otton's outburst. 'Is it because you didn't like his sexual preferences?'
She started and her eyes flickered up. Horton saw alarm in them.
'You don't have to answer that, Melissa,' Otton declared.
Uckfield again, sharply, 'Did you kill your husband, because you wanted to be free of him to be with your lover?'
Otton opened his mouth but this time Melissa got there first.
'I didn't kill Roger, chief inspector.' Her voice held a numb bewilderment. Her eyes met Horton's. She was no longer the aloof slightly contemptuous woman he'd first met but looked vulnerable and confused. If it was an act then it was a damned good one.
She went on, 'I know nothing about those letters. I never wrote them and I wasn't having an affair with Michael Culven, or any other man. I hardly know, knew Mr Culven.'
'We've had the handwriting analysed, Mrs Thurlow. It is your handwriting.' Uckfield opened a folder in front of him.
'It can't be,' she declared.
Horton watched her as Uckfield spread out the four letters on the table in front of her. They were encased in plastic evidence bags. Her eyes slowly ran over them. When she looked up he saw confusion.
'I didn't write these.' Horton saw the first signs of doubt creep into Otton's eyes as he too studied the letters. Uckfield said, 'How long had you and Culven been planning to murder Roger? Three months, six months, a month? The fog must have been a blessing. Did it hasten your plans?'
'I don't know what you're talking about.' She appealed directly to Horton, who kept his face devoid of any expression.
If he were a betting man he'd say she was telling the truth. There was no other evidence to connect her to Culven. Their questioning of Culven's neighbours had produced no sightings of a woman and there was not a single fingerprint of Melissa Thurlow's in Culven's house, or on these letters.
Uckfield was pressing on. 'You and Culven plotted to kill your husband and when Culven had carried out your wishes, you killed him. You had no further use for him. All you wanted was to be free of your husband.'
Melissa shook her head frowning. 'I can't believe this. It's all utter nonsense, I keep telling you.'
'No. I'll tell you.' Uckfield leaned forward across the desk and Melissa instinctively recoiled. 'You met Culven at Horsea Marina on Friday night. Either you, or Culven, then suffocated Roger, whilst he was under the influence of the drug, Hypovase, which you put into his bottled water.'
She paled, but with shock or fear? Horton wondered.
Uckfield continued, 'Culven then took the Free Spirit through the lock whilst it was on free flow so that no one would see him. It was foggy so there was hardly anyone about anyway, and he motored down the Emsworth Channel to Warlingham where he put your husband's body in the tender kept on board and then took him ashore in it. He dragged Roger up to the tower and dumped him. He then took the Free Spirit back to a nearby mooring and came ashore where you met him, by car, and you spent the night together.'
She was shaking her head looking wretched. Horton thought Otton looked as though he was about to have a
