gone under. With his heart racing fit to bust and his hands gripping the helm, he hung on with fierce determination as though willpower could save him. It was all he had left, that and praying to God.
Then, just when he thought he could ride the storm no longer and the waves were bashing over the yacht threatening at any moment to sweep him into oblivion, a tiny pin prick of a bright light was coming towards him out of the dark night, and above the storm he thought he caught the faint throb of other engines. His heart leapt with hope. A flare. There must be one, damn it. But how could he search for it, he couldn't let go of the helm? He reached behind him. Nothing. God, he couldn't lose this chance. Then he saw that the light was getting closer. Hope rose in him. Yes, the engines were getting louder and then they were slowing. He'd been spotted; thank the Lord. He let out a deep sigh of relief. They must have picked him up on the radar. The police launch and lifeboat were beside him, and a voice he recognized hailed him.
'Nice night to go sailing, Inspector. Sorry we're late.'
He could have wept with joy. Forcing himself to keep his voice steady though, he said, 'Better late than never. I am very glad to see you, Sergeant Elkins.'
'Yeah, Cantelli said you might be. He called out the lifeboat and sent us looking for you. Come on, let's get you home.'
Twenty
Friday morning
The wind roared all night. Thornecombe was taken to hospital, but apart from a headache, sore neck, bruised face, ribs and kidneys he was fine. Horton took great pleasure in charging him with the murders of Jessica Langley and Tom Edney.
Teresa Woodford was checked over at the hospital and then released to the police where Horton formally charged her with the murder of Timothy Boston.
Horton pulled open his office blinds to let in the cold grey daylight. His socks and trainers were drying on the radiator along with his shirt. Someone had found him a clean T-shirt and a pair of uniform trousers. His leather jacket was still dripping from the coat stand.
Cantelli entered with a cup of machine coffee. 'That will strip the hairs from your chest.' He put the plastic beaker on the desk and sat down opposite Horton. He looked almost as exhausted as Horton guessed he did himself.
Cantelli said, 'Some people have all the fun.'
'I'll let you know when I next go sailing. You can come with me.'
Horton took a sip of his coffee and pulled a face. 'No fear.' 'Thanks for alerting the lifeboat and Sergeant Elkins. I think you saved my life.'
'Don't tell Uckfield or he might be even sorer than he is now knowing you got two killers and the right ones. It's a good job you left that message on my mobile, and I checked it when I got home. I would have done it sooner except I was at a parents' meeting at Marie's school. I'd forgotten all about it until Charlotte phoned to remind me. I take it Boston saw Langley with Dr Woodford on the boat in Town Camber on that Thursday night.'
'Yes. He also saw Woodford leave and Thornecombe arrive. Then Thornecombe leaves and Boston goes on board to find his head teacher dead. This must have been before nine p.m. when he called Wayne to put the robbery back to one a.m., and after he decided to have a bit of fun with Thornecombe by placing Langley's body on the mulberry. Boston wanted to taunt Thornecombe with the connection between the mulberry, the nursery rhyme and the school.'
'Boston was taking a bit of a risk. The trail could have pointed to him at the Sir Wilberforce Cutler School, especially if we had found his DNA on the mulberry, or on Woodford's yacht. Thornecombe could easily have denied killing Langley.'
'Remember those press cuttings in the scrapbooks, Barney. Boston had once got his adrenalin rush through action and risk-taking; he'd been a stunt man and then an actor. He had ambitions, but the big time never beckoned, though it was tantalizingly close, probably because Boston couldn't resist helping himself to things that didn't belong to him. So he changed his name from Mellows to Boston and turned to teaching drama. He soon found it wasn't enough and decided to create his own starring roles. To Wayne Goodall he appeared the affluent and sophisticated Bond. Then Boston became our priest, fire officer, neighbour and policeman, and conned our robbery victims, all very successfully. He probably took on another character role abroad when he sold the antiques.'
Cantelli let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. 'The things people do.'
Horton continued. 'After dumping Langley's body on the mulberry, Boston returned the boat to the Town Camber. He must have got there about eleven or eleven thirty p.m. at the latest. He takes a chance on not radioing up to cross the channel and gets away with it.'
'But why was he at the Town Camber in the first place at that time of night? If Mickey and Wayne weren't doing the job until one a.m. Boston didn't have to show until then. And why did he shop them?'
'I think it must have gone something like this. Woodford told me that Langley had seen Boston checking over the stolen antiques on his boat one night, probably after she had left Woodford's boat when it had been moored at the Town Camber. It seems it was a regular meeting place for them. Langley threatens to go to the police. He persuaded her to keep quiet.'
'How?' Then Cantelli's expression cleared. 'Of course. Sex.'
'Boston and Langley were two of a kind. She was always on the search for new experiences and with different lovers and Boston, we know, liked to live dangerously. All went well for a few days then either Boston tired of her, or didn't like the hold she had over him. He didn't know about her affair with Woodford, Ranson and Thornecombe. She could land him in a great deal of trouble, and he wasn't going to prison for anyone. So he decided to kill her, hence the set-up with Mickey and Wayne, framing them for her murder. I think he had planned that night for her body to be found on the Martins' boat. He was probably on the boat and about to call her to ask her to meet him there when he saw her walking down the pontoon and climb aboard Dr Woodford's yacht.'
Cantelli shook his head with amazement. 'There was a lot going on that night in the Town Camber.'
'Indeed,' Horton replied with feeling, stifling a yawn with a sip of coffee then wishing he hadn't bothered. 'Boston, after returning Woodford's boat to Town Camber, then drove Langley's car to Sparkes Yacht Harbour at Hayling where his own boat was on the visitors' pontoon. We have a witness who places it there. He motors his boat back to Gosport Marina, catches the last ferry from Gosport across to Portsmouth and manages by the skin of his teeth to turn up on the Town Camber pontoon as our drunk, and so shop Mickey and Wayne.'
'I feel exhausted just thinking of it.' And Cantelli yawned as if to prove the point.
Horton rose and stretched himself. Cantelli wasn't the only one who was exhausted. Horton thought that every bone in his body seemed to ache, some he didn't even know he had.
He said, 'Boston didn't have to do that, of course. He was taking a hell of a chance in us not apprehending him, but the added excitement appealed to Boston's nature. He was probably already bored with robbing people's houses.'
'Did Boston know that Dr Woodford was Thornecombe's wife?'
'I expect a staff member at Nettleside told him and another thing he found out working at Nettleside was Thornecombe's nickname-'
Cantelli held up a hand. 'Let me guess: the owl. And now I come to think about it, Thornecombe looks a bit like an owl when he puts on those steel rimmed glasses. The kids probably nicknamed him that after seeing all the Harry Potter films.'
Horton nodded. 'It's my guess, knowing Boston the way we do now, that he saw a jar of honey on Dr Woodford's boat and his warped sense of humour connected that and Thornecombe's nickname with the Edward Lear poem.'
'Which made Jessica Langley the pussycat, hence the honey and money.'
'Then he added the extra macabre touch, just as he did with dressing her hair on her forehead.'
'So Boston didn't kill anyone.'
'No. He did strike Langley on the mulberry, though. I don't know why, maybe to make doubly sure she was dead, though he must have known that when he lifted her from the boat on to the mulberry.'
