Thurlow.'
'The same…? I don't know. I simply don't know. God, what a mess.'
Horton rose and walked slowly to the big arched window. He looked down on the bustling harbour. 'We'll need to have a look through your client files in case anything there can help us…'
He froze. No it couldn't be. The past was playing tricks with him, he'd gone mad; he was seeing things. He blinked hard but when he focused his eyes back on the boardwalk she was still there. God, Lucy Richardson was right there, under his very nose. She was sitting as bold as brass drinking from a bottle, smiling and talking to a dark-haired girl. His stomach did a somersault. His heart began to race. Slowly and carefully he turned round.
'Sergeant, take over.' He barely registered Cantelli's surprise before he was out of the door. He couldn't get away quick enough. Down those stairs, turn to his right. Would he get there in time? How much did she have in the bottle to drink? His heart was thumping so fast that it was wonder it didn't explode.
He rounded the corner and drew up with a start. No, it couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Please God, how could you do this to me!
He stared at the table where she'd been sitting but instead of the young, blonde, attractive female there was a fat woman and her equally obese husband. He'd got the wrong table, the wrong bar. She couldn't have gone. It had taken him about three minutes at the most to reach her. He wanted to race up to the fat couple and shake and scream at them, demanding to know what had they done with Lucy, but he forced himself to calm down. She couldn't have gone far.
Rapidly he scanned the crowd but there was no Lucy. Perhaps she had gone to another bar. Desperately he searched them all, then the shops, but somehow he knew he wouldn't find her. His chance had come and gone, maybe never to return. He swore softly. There was one last place to look. He should have gone there to begin with.
'Inspector Horton, CID,' he announced into the intercom wondering if he'd be admitted. But they had to. There was no legal reason why they shouldn't admit the police.
After a moment the door buzzed and he stepped into Alpha One's brightly lit and very swish reception. A pretty dark-haired girl of about twenty sat behind a low, grey reception desk. She was wearing a crisp white overall and a worried expression on her perfectly made up face. Horton could tell instantly that she knew about him by the way her green eyes darted nervously about the room.
'Is Mr Jarrett available?' He flashed his ID knowing damn well that if Jarrett were there he wouldn't deign to see him. There was a camera in the far right hand corner pointing directly at him and, he guessed, one behind him above the door, judging by the way the girl's eyes kept flicking beyond him.
'No. Can I take a message?'
You just have Horton felt like saying.
'Tell him I'd like to talk to him about Michael Culven. Is he a member?'
'Our membership is strictly confidential.'
'I could insist.'
'Don't you need a warrant?' She'd been well trained.
'I'll come back with one, if it makes you happier.'
He saw the relief in her eyes as he turned to leave. He reached the door before pausing and turning back. 'Oh, I nearly forgot, tell Lucy I'm here, will you?'
'I don't know any Lucy.'
'No?' He eyed her steadily. Her eyes dropped and her face flushed. Lucy was there all right.
'I think you'd better…'
'Leave. Well thank you for your help.'
He saw the look of alarm on her pretty young face. She was wondering what help she could possibly have given him. Lucy had to be inside. Where else could she have gone?
He made his way back to Thurlow's office wondering where Lucy was living. If he could only find her. Perhaps he could come here every evening and hang around outside Alpha One. It was a thought.
Cantelli looked up as he entered Thurlow's office. Horton could see he was worried. They were alone.
'It's all right, Barney, I haven't gone mad. I saw Lucy Richardson on the Boardwalk.'
Cantelli looked at him incredulously.
'By the time I got there she'd gone. She was in Alpha One but the girl on reception denied it.'
'You've been there? Christ, Andy! Jarrett will make sure Reine throws the book at you.'
Horton rounded on him. 'What else am I supposed to do? Don't tell me to leave it. You know I bloody can't, especially after that newspaper article.'
Horton turned his back on Cantelli and stared out of the window, silently counting to five and trying to still his raging temper. Barney was right. This would mean the end of his police career… or would it? He wasn't so sure. Slowly another thought dawned on him. He turned back.
'Jarrett knows that if I get kicked out of the police force I'll be even more of a wild card. He won't go blabbing. He tried that once and it didn't work. No, the only way to get me off his back is to get rid of me — period.'
'Andy, this is too dangerous. You'll get killed.'
'Not if I get to Lucy first.'
Cantelli let out a long slow breath. After a moment he said, 'I'll give a copy of Lucy's photograph to my sister, Isabella; if Lucy goes into the cafe on the seafront Isabella will let me know.'
Horton hadn't expected that. He was torn between needing Cantelli's help and not wanting him to become involved and end up a possible target himself. In the end, seeing the determined look in his sergeant's dark eyes, he knew that even if he refused, Cantelli would go ahead and do it anyway. He smiled his thanks.
Bringing his thoughts back to the case he said, 'Did Parnham have anything else useful to say?'
'He confirmed that the business hadn't been doing too well lately but he has an appointment with the bank manager. He hopes to get a loan. His story about the porn mags fits. Perhaps Thurlow was simply getting them for his own use and not smuggling them in.'
Perhaps, thought Horton, but he didn't believe it. 'Parnham reminds me of someone, an actor, can place who though.' His telephone rang. It was Marsden. 'You're sure?' Horton said, surprised. He rang off. 'Well that's a turn- up for the books.'
'What is?' Horton strode to the door and opened it. 'Wait and see,' he said, tauntingly over his shoulder. 'Mrs Stephens, could you spare us a moment?' She entered looking wary and perched herself on the edge of the seat opposite Horton poised as if for sudden flight. Her small, dark brown eyes were still puffy.
Cantelli pulled up a chair and sat to the right of Horton.
Horton began gently, smiling sympathetically, trying to put her at ease. 'How long have you worked for Roger?'
She stared nervously at them. 'Twenty-two years.'
'That's a long time. You must have seen many changes.'
She must have changed in that time too he thought, looking at her. In her early fifties she was short, stout, very plain and motherly. He wondered what she had looked like when she had first started working for Thurlow.
She said, 'To begin with it was just Roger and me in a small office in Old Portsmouth but Roger was so clever that the business simply grew and grew and then we moved here, three years ago.' She faltered and blew her nose.
Horton gave her a moment. Then, 'What was Mr Thurlow like as a boss?'
'Wonderful. He was wonderful,' she stammered and stuffed her handkerchief to her mouth to stop herself from crying. 'Not that everyone appreciated his talents.'
'What do you mean?'
'Roger had such high standards that not everyone could meet them. He was very strict with staff, and you know what young people are like today…'
'Was there anyone in particular he upset?' She looked at him surprised. 'No. Not really.'
Horton let it go for now but a list of staff that had been sacked, or had resigned, over the last year might be helpful. Parnham could give them that. He said, 'I understand this must be very painful for you, Mrs Stephens, but we need all the help we can get to try and find out who killed Roger.'
