Could Edney have punched Jessica Langley on the jaw? Maybe she had taunted him once too often. Edney had flipped, struck her and then suffocated her. He had then used her boat to take the body as far away from the school as possible. But why not simply throw her overboard? Why take her all the way to the mulberry?
'Have you any idea where she might have been killed?' he asked.
'There was nothing under or on her skin to give me any clues. I've sent fragments off for analysis along with her clothes. We might get something. I'll let you know as soon as I hear. I'll send over my full report when it's ready.'
Horton headed back to the school thinking over what he'd learned from Gaye Clayton, Dr Woodford and Tom Edney. So far, the information was like the pieces of a jigsaw lying in front of him. They didn't fit together because some of the pieces were missing. He'd find them though, and before he was compelled to hand this case over to Dennings.
If her killing hadn't been revenge motivated then why else would someone want her dead? And what, if anything, did the note found in her pocket have to do with her death?
A uniformed officer let him through the school gates. School was over and the building workers had been sent home early. He parked his Harley next to Cantelli's car and made his way to the staff room. As he stepped inside, all eyes swivelled to stare at him for a moment, freeze-framed as if someone had hit the pause button on a DVD. Then an expectant hum of excitement broke out. At a swift glance, Horton saw that the room was crowded with a motley crew of people of assorted ages, the majority female with about a dozen men thrown in.
He located Cantelli and caught his eye. Horton watched, as he broke off his conversation with a worried- looking dark haired man in his mid-thirties, smartly dressed in a good suit with a clean-cut, handsome face, which Horton guessed had the girls in a swoon — that's if young girls swooned nowadays. It seemed too quaint a word for the modern emancipated female.
Horton and Cantelli drew further away from the crowd to stand just inside the door. In a low voice, Cantelli said, 'They're all on edge, trying to find out what's going on. Most of them think it's to do with the break-in, though Susan Pentlow asked me outright if Ms Langley was OK. She looks as if she's on the verge of a breakdown.'
'Which one is she?'
'Over there, next to Cary Grant?'
'Huh?'
'The teacher I was just talking to.'
'Not his real name I take it.'
'Timothy Boston, but he thinks he's Cary Grant. He looks a bit like him with that cleft in his chin and those dark looks, except for the height. Not tall enough.'
Horton knew that Cantelli's passion was old black-and-white movies. He looked across to Cary Grant aka Timothy Boston who now seemed to be doing his best to console the thin, nervy woman whom Cantelli had identified as Susan Pentlow. She pushed her straight fair hair off her narrow face and nodded at what he was saying. She looked to be in her mid-thirties.
Cantelli continued. 'According to Susan Pentlow, the sun shone out of Jessica Langley's backside. She joined the school ten years ago as an administration manager and a fortnight ago Langley promoted her to the position of business manager. I would say the promotion is too much for her.'
'Langley's special pet?'
Cantelli shrugged.
Horton said, 'I'll talk to her after Edney's announcement. She might know more about Langley's movements than Edney and Janet Downton. Langley might have confided in her.'
'Are you going to hold up the building work?'
'We have to check the connection between the break-in and Jessica Langley's death even though I don't think it's got anything to do with the case.' He certainly wasn't going to give Uckfield the opportunity to say he'd messed up. This one was going to be a belt and braces job. 'I want all the contractors questioned and their whereabouts between eight p.m. and three a.m. verified.' He quickly relayed Dr Clayton's findings to Cantelli, then asked, 'What did Langley's solicitor say?'
'She's left everything to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.'
'Which confirms our belief that she was a sailor. And the Queen's harbour master?'
'No one went out of Portsmouth harbour last night or early this morning except the Isle of Wight ferry and a couple of fishing boats at five a.m.'
'We'll need to talk to them.'
'They're not back until tomorrow morning.'
'Ask the harbour master to notify us when they radio up and we'll get a unit over there to meet and interview them. Anything from the Town Camber offices on the boat owners?'
'I haven't had a chance to check yet, and everyone in the team seems to be otherwise engaged. I'll do it after this.'
Horton noted that Cantelli was less than his usual enthusiastic self. He'd seen Cantelli on the edge of exhaustion before and he hadn't sounded like that. Or looked so drawn. He said, 'You OK?'
'I'll live, just a headache.'
The door opened and Edney stepped inside. The room didn't immediately fall silent like the saloon bar when John Wayne walked in — Edney certainly wasn't any John Wayne or Gary Cooper — but there was a noticeable hiatus in the conversation.
Edney appeared to have aged about ten years since Horton had seen him at the mortuary. There was a grim and haunted expression on his lean features.
In a low voice, Edney said to him, 'I'm going to tell the staff that they must either stay tonight to make their statements to the police or come in tomorrow, Saturday. Is that all right with you, Inspector Horton?'
'Yes. I doubt we'll get through them all tonight.'
Edney nodded, squared his shoulders, and called the room to order. Horton's eyes fell on Neil Cyrus, the assistant caretaker. He was talking with an older man: grey curly hair, ruddy complexion and steel-rimmed glasses. Horton assumed it was Bill Ashling, Cyrus's boss, as they were wearing the same kind of uniform: dark trousers and sweatshirts.
Edney surveyed the crowd over the top of his bifocals. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have a very serious announcement to make.'
Horton wondered at his choice of words: Edney didn't say upsetting, tragic or distressing. Still, as the man had told him at the mortuary, there was no affection between him and his head teacher. Horton glanced at Janet Downton, Langley's secretary, who was perched stiffly on the edge of a chair by the window. Her expression softened as she gazed on Edney, and Horton guessed that Jessica Langley had been right about the affair.
Edney continued. 'This morning Ms Langley was found dead. The police are treating her death as suspicious.'
There was a stunned silence before a murmur spread around the room like a bush fire. Horton's eyes flicked around the occupants: he registered shock and bafflement. Neil Cyrus glanced across at him with a slightly alarmed expression on his round features. Perhaps he was trying to recall his conversation with them earlier to see if he had said anything that might implicate him. Bill Ashling's face flushed, his eyes darted about nervously; Janet Downton looked righteous and smug. Susan Pentlow looked as though she was going to faint, and Timothy Boston looked set to catch her if she did. He put a comforting hand on her arm.
Edney held up his hands for silence, and was immediately obeyed.
'The police will need to take statements from you. You are to give them your full co-operation. The sooner they find the culprit for Ms Langley's death, the sooner the school can return to normal.'
He had stumbled over the word death, but there was no talk of justice. No expression of sadness. At least, Horton thought, he couldn't accuse the man of being a hypocrite.
'The media attention this incident will bring us is, of course, unwelcome,' Edney went on, 'but there's little we can do about it. We must ride the storm. A statement will be issued immediately after this announcement. If journalists approach any of you, you are to refer them to me. On no account must you speak to the press unless you have been given my express permission to do so. This is merely to safeguard the school. We all know how the media can twist even the most simplest and innocent of remarks.'
There was a slight murmur and shifting of positions, which made Horton think that Edney had been caught
