On his return to work yesterday, he had checked criminal records. Nothing. She hadn't been picked up on any charges in the last two months since her disappearance. Then he had checked to see if she was claiming social security anywhere; she wasn't. So she had either been paid well to lie about him and was living off the proceeds, or she was holding down a job. If she was, then it was a black economy job because the Inland Revenue had no record of her paying any tax. His guess was that Lucy could afford not to work for some time but when the money ran out what then? She'd be back and he'd be waiting, ready. She'd show up again if only to ask for more money from the man who had paid her to lie. And he knew who that was despite all his protestations of innocence: Colin bloody Jarrett. 'I can't leave it, Barney,' he said quietly. 'Revenge can be a cruel master.'
Horton shrugged. 'Then I'll take my chances.' He felt the letter in his pocket. His phone rang. It was Walters.
'The DCI is wondering if you're going to join him for the briefing, inspector,' he said sarcastically. 'That is, if you're not too busy.'
'Course I'm bloody busy. I'm trying to find out who the dead man is,' Horton snapped.
'Do you want me to tell the DCI that, guv?'
'No.' Horton guessed that Walters' interpretation of his remark would be something like tell the DCI to go screw himself. 'We'll be there in ten minutes.' He rang off.
As Cantelli threaded his way through the city streets Horton let his mind dwell on his chance encounter with Jarrett. There was something niggling him about it. He replayed it, hearing every nuance, seeing every glance and analysing every word. Maybe he was just clutching at straws, hoping he would read some hidden meaning into Jarrett's words or expression? For eight months he'd left the man alone despite wanting to beat the truth from him, knowing that if he did Jarrett would have won and he would have been kicked out of the police service quicker than you could say P45.
Day after day he had relived every moment of that operation. Night after night he had dreamt of it. He'd even gone so far as to make some notes but he'd ripped them up one night in a drunken rage.
His mind trawled back through the year. In March Catherine had thrown him out, she'd had enough of his drinking and his rage. In April, after he had continually pestered her, she had stopped him seeing Emma. In May and June he had got so drunk he could remember nothing, only in July had he come to his senses, when the case had been dropped. He'd been cleared on a technicality — Lucy had disappeared. That was about as much use to him as a hairpin in a hurricane. He had promised Steve Uckfield he wouldn't attempt to see Jarrett, or have anything to do with Alpha One. Steve had told him to move on with his life. He had intended to but now he knew how utterly impossible that was. He had always known despite his promises. Portsmouth was a big place, but not big enough for him to avoid Jarrett and vice versa. And his future was too irretrievably linked to his past to forget the man.
'Drop me at the marina, will you, Barney. I want to collect my bike. You return to the station; get those fingerprints over to the Scientific Services for checking. If Uckfield asks for me tell him I'm on my way.'
CHAPTER 4
'What the devil did you think you were playing at?' Uckfield roared.
I wasn't playing, thought Horton, standing ramrod stiff the other side of the DCI's desk. Who had told Uckfield about his encounter with Jarrett? Not Cantelli, surely?
'Jarrett's complained to the Super. Says you've been harassing him. Is it true?'
He might have guessed that Jarrett would go bellyaching right to the top. 'I spoke to him. I don't call that harassment.'
'Why didn't you ignore him, walk away?'
'Like you would have done?'
'Yes, if it meant keeping my job,' Uckfield quipped
Horton cocked a sceptical eyebrow. After a moment Uckfield let out a sigh and threw himself back in his seat. Running a hand through his hair he said, 'The Super's just waiting for the opportunity to boot you as far away from here as possible, Andy, so why go looking for trouble? I covered up for you, said Jarrett must have misconstrued your words, but I can't keep doing it.'
Horton remained silent. He didn't like the way Uckfield had said that; he didn't need to be reminded that he owed Steve but it was as if he wanted to rub it in. Still he was right. The Super would probably declare a public holiday if he managed to rid the station of what he considered a rotten apple. Anyone who tarnished Reine's image, and subsequently the prospects of him climbing the greasy pole to the top, was about as welcome as a cold in the head. He'd have to tread a bit more carefully and slow down. All the same Jarrett had presented himself, he hadn't gone looking for him. That being so he wasn't about to look any gift horse in the mouth.
Uckfield leaned forward. 'I need you firing on all cylinders, Andy, not with half your mind on that tart Richardson and Alpha One. You know I'm up before the promotion board next Friday and there'll be a place on the new Major Crime Team for you if I get it. So let's get this case of our body on the beach solved quickly and find the little bastard that stabbed Evans. OK?'
'Yes, sir.' At least he wasn't being chucked off the case.
Uckfield waved him into the seat across his immaculately tidy desk. A large fan whirred gently in the corner behind the DCI but it did little to dispel the mid afternoon heat, which hung over the room like an invisible cloak, suffocating and oppressive.
Uckfield said, 'So what did you get on Evans's stabbing from Westover?'
The youth had been reticent to the point of muteness. He had been accompanied by his father and the family solicitor who, between them, had made the boy sound so mild mannered that it made Clark Kent sound like Rambo.
'He says there were gate crashers.'
'And you believe him?'
'Does the Pope believe in contraception?'
Uckfield gave the ghost of a smile. 'So where do we go now?'
'We continue interviewing the other kids, the ones we can find, and try and track down the ones we can't. The drug squad are helping with that. I've seconded Kate Somerfield to work with them.'
'Put Cantelli on it too.'
'I need him working with me, Steve, on the murder. DC Marsden can handle the stabbing investigation. He's quite capable.'
Horton saw Uckfield frown. Marsden was the fast track graduate and blue-eyed boy. 'It'll give him the chance to head up an investigation, under my guidance of course. See what he's made of.'
'I'm not having Evans' stabbing sidelined.'
'I'm not. I'm just utilising manpower,' Horton replied calmly.
Uckfield pursued his lips. 'I'm not sure…'
'Marsden's only waiting to go before the next promotion board. He'll be Chief Constable before any of us.' Horton said tauntingly. Uckfield flashed him a look, which said not before me sunshine.
'OK.' He stretched back in the chair and clasped his hands behind his head. 'Where are we with our beach body?'
Horton pulled at his tie. He'd be cooler in a Turkish bath. 'Did you ask Alison if she knows Mrs Thurlow?'
'She's passed the time of day with her at various flower shows, says she's an expert on fuchsias; me I can't tell geraniums from gladioli. You spoken to anyone in Thurlow's office yet?'
Horton shook his head. 'No point until we confirm our victim is Thurlow.'
'What the hell are Scientific Services playing at? We should have had the fingerprint check ages ago.'
'Computer crash.'
'Bloody things. And where is that pathologist with her report. I thought you said we'd have it this afternoon. Typical bloody woman.'
Horton didn't like to say that Gorringe had been so slow that he made a slug look fast. 'Perhaps she got busy.'
