He shoved the photograph back in the tin and put it under his bunk. He tried to sleep but images and words from the day's events swirled around in his head determined to wake him every half an hour. He was rather glad when his phone rang and he reached across the bunk for it, trying to see the time.
He half expected to hear Cantelli's voice, but it was Uckfield who growled down the line.
'There's been another fire.'
'Where?' Horton was suddenly wide awake. He swung his legs over the side of the bunk and grabbed his watch. He was amazed to see it was 5.25 a.m.
'Guernsey.'
Horton's heart sank. Of course it could be Brundall's house, but Guilbert and his officers had already been inside that, so not much point in setting fire to it now. There was only one place that it could be and the thought sent a shudder through him.
He said, 'Sherbourne's office?'
'Spot on.'
Coincidence? Not bloody likely.
'How bad?'
The answer was in Uckfield's silence.
Horton caught his breath. 'Sherbourne's dead?'
'Yes.'
Six
Friday: 6 A.M.
'It looks as though Sherbourne was already dead when the fire started at about two a.m.,' Uckfield said, as Horton unzipped his leather jacket and, slinging it on a desk in the incident suite, placed his helmet on top of it. They were the only two there.
So where was Dennings? Horton wanted to ask. Surely Uckfield had called him?
'Did the arsonist use Sherbourne's keys to get into the offices?' asked Horton.
'There was no forced entry if that's what you mean, although a window was broken. But the fire investigation officer says that was where the firebomb was thrown inside. The building is practically gutted and Sherbourne a mass of charred bones.'
Horton tried not to recall the picture of Brundall's remains on the pontoon, but didn't quite manage it. Peter Kingston's description of the solicitor flitted through his mind: 'About your height, slim, mid fifties. Biggish nose and hawk-like eyes.' Not any more, he thought.
Uckfield said, 'Sherbourne's car has also been found flashed up. Guilbert says they'll be lucky to get its make and registration number never mind any prints. What the bloody hell did Brundall tell or give Sherbourne?' Uckfield cried, exasperated. 'If Sherbourne was killed because Brundall made a new will then we need to find his original heir bloody quickly. I would say he's our prime suspect.'
'Only problem is, neither DC Marsden nor Inspector Guilbert can find a relative.'
'Must be someone else then. And all the bloody files in that solicitor's office have gone up in smoke. Great!' Uckfield rubbed a hand across his eyes. Horton wondered what time he'd been hauled from his bed. The big man looked as though he hadn't had any sleep, and only a change of clothes told Horton he had been home. Horton doubted if John Guilbert had even had that luxury.
Uckfield said, 'I'm sending Dennings to Guernsey.'
And that will go down like a lukewarm lager on a hot summer's night. Maybe he should call Guilbert and warn him, Horton thought as Trueman walked in.
Uckfield hauled himself off the desk.
'Sergeant, get Inspector Dennings on the first available flight to Guernsey.'
Trueman looked as if he was about to say 'with pleasure' then obviously thought better of it.
Horton said, 'Where is Dennings?'
'On his way. I called him after I telephoned you and told him to pack a bag.'
Horton pointedly consulted his watch. 'Maybe he's lost his passport.' Uckfield scowled at him. They all knew you didn't need one for visiting Guernsey. 'Or perhaps he doesn't know what to wear.'
'He's not going to the North Pole,' snapped Uckfield.
'Ah, but does DI Dennings know that?'
Uckfield opened his mouth to reply but Horton got in first. 'Whoever killed Sherbourne knew he'd visited Brundall, but how? Either Brundall inadvertently let the cat out of the bag before he died — perhaps he called his killer or called someone who knew the killer — or someone in Sherbourne's office knew the solicitor was coming to England to see Brundall, which means they've lied to the Guernsey police, and whoever it is told the killer.'
Uckfield narrowed his eyes and sniffed noisily, as Horton crossed to the coffee machine.
'Or perhaps our killer was watching Brundall's boat and saw Sherbourne board it,' Horton continued, pressing the button for coffee, black, no sugar. 'He recognized Sherbourne and knew it could spell danger, which means the killer must be from Guernsey otherwise how else would he know Nigel Sherbourne?'
'So you think it's the same killer?'
'It seems likely.' Horton took his coffee, sipped it and pulled a face. It never seemed to get any better. 'The killer sees Sherbourne climb on board and gets worried about what Brundall's told him. He kills Brundall that night and then hotfoots it back to Guernsey to prevent Sherbourne blabbing. He knows where to locate Sherbourne, follows him, but can't get to him before he sees his client, so he waits until he comes out, abducts and kills him. He then sets fire to Sherbourne's offices to make doubly sure that whatever Brundall has told his solicitor remains a secret, which means we need to check the flights-'
'Sergeant,' Uckfield bellowed.
Trueman was less than a foot behind him.
'I want the passenger lists of all the flights from Southampton to Guernsey on Thursday morning. And you'd better check out flights from the other airports too, especially any flights that went late Wednesday evening.' The door opened. 'Inspector Dennings, what took you so bloody long?'
'I got-'
'Never mind. Trueman, as soon as you get that passenger list relay it to Inspector Dennings; he'll be in Guernsey by then. Then I want you, Dennings; with the help of the Guernsey police, to go through it like it's that racing paper you study so keenly. Check out all the runners. I want to know if there is anyone on that list who knows or knew Sherbourne or Brundall, and their exact movements from Sunday night until last night.'
Dennings looked puzzled and with an irritated frown Uckfield quickly relayed Horton's theory, after which Horton said, 'Of course it could be two killers and our pyromaniac here told his pyromaniac friend over there about Sherbourne's visit.'
Uckfield spun round to face Horton. 'In that case, you'd better start finding me some leads here.' To Dennings, he said, 'Get going if you're to catch the-'
'08:25 flight,' interjected Trueman, obviously keen to push Dennings on to the earliest possible flight and volunteer to carry his luggage for him. 'Otherwise you'll have to wait for the 11:10.'
'And that's too bloody late.' Uckfield snatched a glance at his watch. 'Get a car to take you there. Blue lights all the way if necessary.'
Horton was glad to get Neanderthal Man out of the way, and Trueman, breaking with his usual habit of remaining implacable in the face of panic, bollockings and briefings, looked as if he'd received an early Christmas present.
Horton was surprised to find both Walters and Cantelli in the CID office. He could tell by Cantelli's cheerful expression that it was good news and felt overwhelmingly relieved.
'Recovered from your flu?' Horton addressed Walters.
'It wasn't flu, just an iffy stomach. Couldn't get off the toilet.'
'It's all those curries you eat.'
'I don't like curry,' protested Walters.
