fits the pattern, but there's no one in Hampshire. I could widen the search.'
'Leave it for now. We've got enough to do. It was just an idea, but if you hear of anything.'
'I'll let you know. Any sign of Johnson's accomplice?'
'Not yet. Where's Cantelli?'
'Haven't seen him, but the big man's in the canteen.'
Uckfield was nursing a coffee.
'You look like shit,' were his first words as Horton sat in front of him with a coffee and a plate of eggs, bacon, chips and beans.
'So would you if you'd be up for thirty-six hours.'
'You're no good to me half dead.'
'It seems I'm no good to you alive.'
Uckfield's head came up. Horton saw that he had scored a point. Uckfield glowered.
'Go home, Inspector.'
'Is that an order?'
'Yes. I've sent Cantelli home too. His mouth was open more often than it was closed. Looking at him was enough to make us all long for our beds or visit a dentist. He told me what had happened at the school. Nothing's come to light so far, just what a bloody great head teacher she was.'
'That's not what Tom Edney says.'
'Sour grapes.'
'Possibly.' Horton stabbed at a chip and conveyed it to his mouth. 'Anything from the lab?'
'Langley's fingerprints have checked out and the lab has confirmed it was honey on that bundle of notes found stuffed in her knickers. No fingerprints on them.'
'What about on the betting slip?'
'Not come in yet.'
'I'll chase them up.' Horton glanced up at the clock on the canteen wall and saw it was too late: it was after seven thirty. It would have to wait until the morning. 'What's the background on Langley so far?' He dipped a chip into his fried egg.
'She was an only child. Her parents died when she was sixteen. They were killed in a motor collision on the M1. Her father was a lorry driver and her mother was with him. Nasty one, it was a multiple pile-up, closed the motorway for hours. Seven people dead: the Langleys, a husband and wife in the car in front of Langley's lorry — he careered into the back of them, almost through them and out the other side — a man, woman and child behind Langley in a sports car. Five others were injured, two seriously. Langley's lorry caught fire. Their bodies were badly burned. They were identified from their dental records.'
'Where was Jessica?'
'At school, here in Portsmouth. It was a small girl's school in Milton. It's now a junior school. We haven't yet traced anyone from school who knew her. Her A-level qualifications were gained at Chippenham Technical College, so we're searching there for a connection: a relative or friend.'
'Was she born in Portsmouth?' Horton cleared his plate and felt better for having eaten. The canteen was warm and he was incredibly tired. Maybe he would go home.
'Her birth certificate says Cardiff. And so far records show that she didn't come to Portsmouth until she was twelve. We're also checking her contacts and background in Cardiff.' Uckfield looked over Horton's shoulder and frowned with annoyance. 'Sergeant Cantelli, I thought I told you to bugger off home. Doesn't anybody do as they're told around here?'
'Langley's car has been found, ' Cantelli said, as he reached their table.
'Where?' Horton sat up.
'Sparkes Yacht Harbour, Hayling Island.'
That was at the opposite end of Hayling Island from where Langley's body was discovered.
'I thought DI Bliss's team at Hayling were checking the marinas,' Horton said, frowning, wondering why they hadn't found it sooner.
Uckfield glowered at the implied criticism. 'They are. That's why they've found the car.'
'It's taken them a long time.' It would have been one of the first places he would have visited. 'Come on.' He was already striding across the canteen with Cantelli in tow.
Uckfield shouted. 'You're off duty, Inspector.'
Horton spun round and held Uckfield's angry stare. 'After I've seen the car.'
Nine
Friday: 8.15 P.M.
Horton could see DI Lorraine Bliss's lean figure on the far side of the marina car park as Cantelli swung into it from the residential street. She was scouring the ground with a deep frown as though she'd lost a diamond earring and her life depended on her finding it. Maybe she was just looking for clues though he doubted she'd find any after this time and the appalling weather. He could see the red TVR and beside it the police vehicle recovery truck.
Her head shot up as Cantelli drew the car to a halt. Horton had only met her once, at a conference before his suspension and then not to talk to. Nevertheless he recalled her sharp-featured face and intense expression. Most of all he remembered her as the woman who had asked intelligent and incisive questions of the speaker, a senior police office from the Met, which had him fumbling for the answers.
She hadn't mixed with the other delegates. He didn't know whether that was because she lacked the skill to make small talk, or if she just preferred it that way. Her reputation was certainly that she didn't suffer fools gladly (a considerable handicap as a police officer, he thought wryly) and that she was a woman of few words. He'd also heard that she was very ambitious.
He saw instantly that she wasn't pleased to see him. Was that because she considered his appearance interference or because she didn't like what she had recalled about him either at the conference or since? It made no difference to him, he thought, heading towards her.
'There's nothing to see,' she said pre-empting him, and brushing back a strand of hair with an impatient gesture, tucking it into her scraped-back ponytail.
Maybe not, but he still wanted to see it. It was raining heavily and her long raincoat was soaked like her hair. He hadn't asked her to stand about in the rain waiting for him. It irritated him as he strode towards the TVR. The car was facing on to the marina. Beyond it were rows of motorboats and yachts, and across the black expanse of water he could see the small pinpricks of lights at north Hayling and further away to the east, those of the waterside village of Emsworth. In less than two hours it would be low tide. To his right, just past the main harbour office, were the lights of Marina Jaks, the restaurant. The wind was whistling and roaring through the masts. Not a night to be out to sea, thought Horton, with some sympathy for the fishermen.
He peered inside. There was nothing on the back seat or on the passenger seat. 'Anything in the boot?' he asked.
'Spare tyre and tools.' DI Bliss replied shortly. He could feel the energy and anger radiating from her.
'No suit jacket, laptop or briefcase?'
'I would have said if there were.'
He locked eyes with her. There was a slight tilt of her chin and a determined set to her mouth that told him Lorraine Bliss was a fighter. She would get to the top no matter whom she had to walk over to reach it. Uckfield had better watch out and he smiled at this secret pleasure.
'It looks as though everything personal has been stripped from the car,' he said, straightening up from opening the glove compartment. 'Either that or she was very tidy.' And he knew she wasn't by the state of her office and her apartment.
Bliss said, 'Most of the boat owners seem to live in London, but there are some local ones; my officers are interviewing them, as well as residents and the holiday makers near Langstone Harbour, but it will take time. I haven't got the manpower.'
Horton detected a note of defensiveness and resentment in her crisp tone. He guessed that Uckfield had
