Perhaps Uckfield had had a premonition that something was happening here, Horton thought wryly, noting also Dr Clayton's Mini Cooper, but that would be like Hannibal Lecter suddenly converting to vegetarianism. Horton supposed Uckfield must have been near to the Marina when he'd got Bliss's call.
'About time. Where have you been?' Horton snapped as Walters eventually answered.
'On the phone to Guernsey, guv.' Walters sounded peeved.
Horton ordered Walters to put out an all-ports alert for two men: the visitor with the briefcase and the man who had steered the boat into Horsea Marina on Monday afternoon. As he stepped on to the pontoon another thought occurred to him: the victim didn't necessarily have to be either Brundall or the man in the suit; it could be someone whom Brundall had lured to his boat. And further more how did he know that Brundall was the boat owner's real name?
He frowned with irritation. He had a feeling that this case was going to be one of those — for every step forward they'd take two back. Cantelli had told him it wouldn't be his problem, and DCI Bliss had also reminded him of that same fact. Maybe he should be grateful.
Uckfield's squat figure loomed at him from out of the fog. Maybe this one was best left to the superintendent and DI Dennings, and yet Horton knew by the excitement he felt in his gut and by his earlier premonition which was still swirling around that he didn't want that.
Never let it be said that I don't like a challenge, he thought, and felt certain that this case was certainly going to be that.
Two
'What's up, Steve? Worried your boat might have gone up in flames?'
Horton joked with a familiarity that would have earned him a reprimand with any other senior officer, but every now and then Horton liked to remind Uckfield that they had once been close friends. He noted Uckfield's dinner jacket and bow tie underneath the camel coat. The superintendent must have been on his way to a function when he got Bliss's call.
With a flicker of annoyance Uckfield said crisply, 'What do we know about the dead man?'
Horton smiled a greeting at Dr Clayton who returned the gesture briefly before resuming her examination of the corpse. There was no sign of Dennings, and he wasn't a man to miss. His fifteen-stone muscular frame would have stood out like the Incredible Hulk.
After Horton had finished his briefing, Uckfield said, 'Great, so we think he might be this man Tom Brundall, but equally he could be any other Tom, Dick or Harry.'
'That's about the size of it so far,' Horton said, as Cantelli arrived.
'This place is like the Mary Celeste. I can't find a single soul on a blessed boat. Somerfield's had no joy either.'
Horton hadn't really expected anything different at this time of the year. He turned to Uckfield, and, half joking, said, 'I don't suppose you've been on your boat and seen the victim?'
Uckfield snapped, 'Of course I bloody haven't,' and swiftly turned to Dr Clayton. 'Well?'
'He's not a very pretty sight.'
Gaye glanced up. For a moment Horton thought she was referring to the superintendent.
'I can see that for myself,' Uckfield retorted. 'Was he murdered?'
'Interesting though.' She stood up, holding Uckfield's glare with composure, obviously refusing to be hurried or bullied into answering. Did Uckfield know he was addressing the daughter of one of the most eminent Home Office pathologists the country had ever seen, Samuel Ryedon? Horton doubted it or Uckfield's manner would have been sickeningly ingratiating instead of hostile.
'Could it have been an accident?' Uckfield pressed.
'Not judging by the pattern of the wound and the extent of the injury to the cranium. He was struck with a heavy object, something like a hammer.'
Horton peered once again at the body. It wasn't quite as bad the second time, though it was awful enough. But now the analytical side of his nature reasserted itself. Why had this man met with such a terrible end? Was it a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Somehow Horton doubted that. It was planned, he was sure. So what kind of person could have done this and why? He knew that people were driven to murder for all sorts of reasons: greed, jealousy, revenge, hatred, love, to name but a few. But to knock a man out and then set fire to him smacked of someone cold and calculating enough to cover his tracks by wanting to destroy the evidence. Either that or someone evil enough to take pleasure in watching another human being suffer for the sheer fun of it. Maybe their killer was a bit of both. The thought sent a cold shudder through him, making him feel both sad and sickened.
Dr Clayton pulled the blanket over the corpse. 'I'll do the post-mortem as soon as I get him to the mortuary.' Turning to Horton, she added, 'I'll let you know the moment I have anything. I wouldn't want to spoil the superintendent's evening.'
Ignoring her, Uckfield addressed Horton. 'You'd better get the divers in. Not that I expect them to find anything in the marina. Our killer wouldn't be that stupid.'
'You're taking command of the case?'
'It looks like murder to me, Inspector. And that counts as a major crime in my book,' Uckfield replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
Horton tensed at Uckfield's sneering tone, but said casually, 'In that case we'll leave it to you and DI Dennings.' He turned and walked away.
'Not so hasty. You got a date?' Uckfield called out angrily.
No, but you have, thought Horton. Now he'd see just how important a date it was. Come on, you bastard, ask me. Either that or get your blue-eyed boy in.
'Andy.'
Horton halted and slowly turned, managing to stifle the smile of satisfaction both at being summoned and the use of his Christian name. He heard Uckfield snarl at Cantelli. 'Haven't you got anything better to do, Sergeant, than hang around on the pontoon chewing like a bloody cow?'
Cantelli raised his eyebrows and turned to engage Dr Clayton in conversation.
Drawing level, Uckfield said in a low voice, 'Can't you follow this through, Andy? I'll clear it with DCI Bliss. Dennings is off sick with this flu bug and I've promised Alison I'd go to this bloody dinner and dance. It's in aid of one of her charities and she's put a lot of effort into organizing it.'
Yes, and I expect her father, the chief constable, will also be there, Horton thought cynically, which was the real reason Uckfield needed to go. It was sucking-up time to the in-laws. And Horton, knowing Uckfield of old, was aware Alison could go to Outer Mongolia on her own if precious daddy wasn't anywhere on the horizon.
Uckfield continued. 'Not much will happen on this case tonight anyway, and I know I can leave a good officer like you to kick start it.'
Horton had to bite his tongue. He felt like saying 'If I'm that bloody good why didn't you appoint me your DI instead of that idiot Dennings?'
'Sergeant Cantelli and I should have been off duty about two hours ago,' Horton said, holding Uckfield's stare. He wanted the man to plead yet he knew that Uckfield wouldn't. Horton had to be content with the small victory he had scored in getting the superintendent to ask for a favour in the first instance. He saw that he had made his point and before Uckfield could answer, added, 'I'll call you as soon as Dr Clayton has completed the post-mortem, Steve.' A favour didn't warrant the use of rank, not in Horton's eyes at least.
'Good.'
Horton knew Uckfield couldn't say thank you. It wasn't in his vocabulary.
Uckfield glanced at his watch. 'I'll call Sergeant Trueman on my way to the dinner and ask him to start getting the major incident suite ready. Hate these bloody things, but duty calls.'
If Uckfield had any sense of duty, Horton thought, he'd cry off. He'd always known that Uckfield was ambitious but what he hadn't realized until recently was just how ambitious.
'Was he born grumpy or has he simply perfected the art over the years?' Gaye Clayton said, nodding in the direction of Uckfield's disappearing figure.
