car? Why did she choose to wear black yesterday when all her other suit jackets are mauve, green and red?'
Walters looked blank.
'Perhaps she just felt in a sombre mood,' suggested Cantelli, dropping the deck shoes into the evidence bag. 'Or perhaps she had to go to a meeting where she needed to dress more soberly.'
Yes, thought Horton, and perhaps that meeting had been after she had left the school at seven fifteen p.m. If only they had her diary.
Horton handed the bag to Walters. 'Get those sent over to the lab. And take all that paperwork back to the station and start going through it. Ask Sergeant Trueman to get a forensic team in here and some officers over to start a house-to-house. If she came straight home from school then she should have arrived at about seven thirty p.m. Someone must have seen her and her car.'
Walters slouched off.
Horton turned to Cantelli. 'Let's get some fresh air.'
Horton's head felt heavy, as though he had a hangover. He needed to clear it. He needed to understand this woman and why someone had chosen to kill her. It could be a random killing, yet he didn't think so, not with the body having been placed on the mulberry.
The rain had eased to a fine drizzle, which was somehow more dampening and depressing than a torrential downpour. Cantelli pulled up the collar of his jacket and thrust his hands in his pocket. Soon they turned on to the quayside. Only a handful of people were about and most of those working in the fish market to their right. It was the same route only in reverse that Horton had run in the early hours of the morning chasing his burglar. Now, in the daylight, he had a good view of the Town Camber. Across the small harbour was the Bridge Tavern. Beyond, and sandwiched between it and the expensive apartments of Oyster Quays, he could see the funnel of the Isle of Wight ferry as it slid into its dock. The cathedral clock behind them struck one. Horton had skipped breakfast and realized he was hungry.
Cantelli, echoing his thoughts, said hopefully, 'We got time for a bacon butty?'
'We'll get something back at the station.'
What could the head teacher of an inner city school have done that could incite such retribution? Horton couldn't think straight. He needed to splash his face with cold water. He was tired, but he didn't have time for sleep. He needed to catch this killer quickly. It was a point of honour now. He would show Uckfield that he'd chosen the wrong man.
He glanced at the row of apartments and houses to his left, at right angles to Feltham Row. They faced on to Town Camber, and one of them had been broken into a week ago. He turned round to stare at Langley's flat behind him. Something stirred in his sluggish brain. His pulse quickened. It was a long shot, but it was possible.
He said, 'Could Langley have witnessed Mickey Johnson and his mate breaking into that house last week?' He nodded to his left. 'And that's why she was killed.'
Cantelli shook his head. 'You know Mickey as well as I do. He's not a killer.'
No. And neither was he an antiques thief, though he had stolen antiques. But the haul found on Johnson last night had been nowhere near as valuable as that taken on previous robberies. What significance did Johnson have with the owl and the pussycat? Horton couldn't see him putting honey and money in Langley's knickers. He doubted Johnson even knew the poem. His accomplice might have done though.
Horton leaned over the railings and stared down into the water. A single white swan was weaving its way among the blue and white tugboats. The pilot boat's engines across the quay throbbed into life.
He glanced up. 'Mickey was conducting a robbery at one a.m. and was in the police station from one forty-five a.m., so he couldn't have dumped her body. But suppose his accomplice the great athlete returned? He could have killed Langley before going on the job with Mickey, and come back here after I let him get away.'
'She wasn't on the boat where they'd stashed the antiques. I think Elkins and I would have noticed.'
'Yeah, OK. But she could have been on any one of these other boats.' Horton waved his arm at the tiny harbour. 'Or on her own boat moored here. Perhaps Langley saw this youth on the previous burglary, recognized him and threatened to go to the police.'
'Could be a pupil.'
Horton groaned silently. He hoped not. He didn't fancy interviewing all Year 11. 'Would a yob like that be able to handle a boat?'
'He could be a clever lad, one of her star pupils. Perhaps she was having an affair with him.'
Horton was about to scoff when he reconsidered. It was possible, though surely Langley wouldn't jeopardize her career like that!
Cantelli warmed to his theme. 'He arranged to meet her on her boat after she left school and before he went on the job with Mickey. He killed her and then did the job with Mickey before returning to her boat after we'd all left. He took the boat out and dumped her on the mulberry. He brought the boat back, took her car keys and drove her car somewhere to flash it up. Or perhaps he sold it on. He stole her laptop, again with the intention of selling it.'
Horton pondered a moment. 'It fits except for that blessed money and honey. It's too smart-arse clever.'
'So is our young athlete.'
Horton shook his head. 'If the boy's that clever what's he doing mixing with Mickey Johnson?'
'He could be the mastermind behind the thefts.'
'If Langley kept a boat here it will be registered at the Town Camber offices.' Horton watched as the orange and black pilot boat made its way out of the Town Camber and then pulled himself off the railings. 'Check with them, Barney, and ask the Queen's harbour master if anyone radioed up last night to go into or leave Town Camber.'
Cantelli looked blankly at him. Horton explained. 'Small boats have to enter Portsmouth Harbour through the small boat channel, which is on the opposite side to Portsmouth, otherwise they risk being mowed down by one of the big continental ferries, a navy ship or cargo vessel. To get into Town Camber they have to cross the main channel when they are north of Ballast Beacon and permission has to be granted by the Queen's harbour master. The same goes if they're leaving Town Camber. So if Langley's body was taken from here, there's a chance that we'll know about it.'
'What if she was taken out on a fishing boat?'
'The same applies. They can leave the harbour close inshore on the Portsmouth side but they still have to request permission to proceed, and give their intended route and licence number. We also need to ask the fishermen if they saw anything suspicious last night or any boat leaving the Town Camber. Get someone working on that.' He paused and frowned. Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he said, 'There's something we're missing, but I'm buggered if I can see it.'
'Perhaps it will come to us after we've eaten,' Cantelli said hopefully and his stomach rumbled loudly, reinforcing his point.
Horton capitulated. He could feel his own stomach knocking against his ribs. And with a backward glance at the small harbour, he left with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his gut, which he knew was something more than just hunger.
Six
Friday: 2 P.M.
'What about the fisherman who called the harbour master?' Uckfield asked, tapping his pen impatiently on his desk and eyeing Horton intently, as if trying to mesmerize him into saying, 'Yes he's our killer!'
'He was collecting some fishing nets from the mulberry. Didn't want to get involved. So he waited until he was out in the Solent before reporting it.'
'And you believe he's got nothing to do with this?'
'Yes.'
Uckfield gave a sarcastic snort, tossed his pen aside and threw himself back in his leather chair, which groaned under the impact.
