was alive.
Eddie rushed up to him. 'Bloody hell, I thought you was a gonner. Am I glad to see you! You all right? Do you want an ambulance? What happened?'
'What I need is a phone. Go and talk to the fire officer, Eddie, and make sure everything is OK with the other boat owners.' Eddie got his drift and hurried away leaving Horton alone in the office. He could see the firefighters running hoses down the pontoon where Eddie's colleague was already on his mobile phone to his boss. Horton suspected a fire in two of the company's marinas wasn't going to make him a happy man!
He would like to have called Cantelli but didn't want to disturb him in his bereavement. Instead he rang through to Uckfield.
'Jesus! That's twice someone's tried to kill you — why?' Uckfield exclaimed.
'If I knew that, I'd probably know who the killer is,' Horton snapped. Yet his mind was racing with the thought that this must be connected with his mother and that note in the margin of Gilmore's newspaper. And there was one person he was getting close to, whom he had interviewed that day, and who might have a lot to lose: Sebastian Gilmore.
'I'll come down and handle the investigation, myself,' Uckfield said. 'I'll send a car to collect you. Where are you going to stay?'
Horton thought he detected a hint of nervousness in Uckfield's voice. He didn't believe Uckfield would offer him a bed, so he wouldn't bother asking and suffer the humiliation of being fobbed off with excuses. He also wondered if Uckfield was worried he might ask Catherine.
'I'll sort something out.'
As Horton rang off he heard the familiar throb of the police launch and hurried outside to meet it at the waiting pontoon. He stopped for a brief moment to gaze across at Nutmeg; the firefighters were squirting water on her. His heart was heavy with sorrow. She had been his consolation and his refuge in the dark days following the debacle of Operation Extra and Catherine's rejection. Watching her burn he felt as though a chapter of his life had closed. Just as his marriage to Catherine was over, so the last vestiges of that phase of his life after the accusation of rape and his subsequent suspension were completed. Nutmeg was being laid to rest and he should do the same with the immediate past. The past further back though was a very different matter.
His gaze took him to the car park above the marina with the fire engines and their blue lights flashing in the dark. His attacker had long gone. Did he know if he was still alive, Horton wondered. He would only have had an instant to escape the pontoon before Eddie and his colleague rushed out. Horton guessed he would have thrown the firebomb and immediately sprinted away.
'Andy, what happened? Are you OK?' Sergeant Elkins exclaimed, leaping off the launch and swiftly securing a line to the pontoon. 'I heard about the fire over the radio. I couldn't believe it when they said it was your boat.'
'I'm fine.'
'Well you don't bloody look it, dripping all over the place and shivering like buggery.'
Horton managed a smile. 'Typical British response, sorry, force of habit. And apologizing when I don't need to.'
'Get on board. Ripley, the thermal blanket.'
Horton was glad to let Elkins take control. He settled himself in the wheelhouse as Ripley placed the silver thermal blanket around his shoulders.
Elkins opened his mouth to speak but Horton got there first.
'Don't say I should go to hospital, Dai,' Horton said, using Elkins' real name and not Dave, as he had become popularly known. 'I just need a hot shower and some clean clothes, and somewhere to stay.' The first two were easy to arrange, but he didn't know about the third. Then he had a thought. 'Let me call Superintendent Uckfield.' When connected, he said, 'Steve, I'm going back with Sergeant Elkins — yes, the police launch is here. Call an ambulance. Tell them to make it look as though they're picking me up from the water. Our pyromaniac won't be hanging around the marina but he could be waiting somewhere down the road to see what happens. Let's make him think for a while that he's succeeded in putting me out of action. I'll call you as soon as I can to let you know where I am.' Turning to Elkins he said, 'Can you get me some dry clothes?'
'Yes. Look, I've got an idea. I need to make a call.'
As he did so, Ripley started the engine and piloted the launch into Langstone Harbour. Horton was content just to sit and think. His attacker had to be Sebastian Gilmore, and yet that couldn't be: the build was wrong. Horton couldn't mistake the giant of a man. So Gilmore must have hired someone to do his dirty work for him. If that were so, then Horton knew that his mother was the key to these killings and that Sebastian Gilmore was afraid that Horton would unlock it. And yet it didn't quite measure up. Sebastian Gilmore had to be some kind of idiot or psychopath to think he could get away with killing a detective on the case without anyone else pointing the finger at him. And Horton didn't have Gilmore down as an idiot, which meant he must be psychotic. After all, who else would kill Anne Schofield and enjoy setting fire to people?
'It's all settled if you're happy with the arrangements,' Elkins broke through his thoughts. Horton stirred himself as Elkins continued. 'I have a friend who owns a Bavaria 44 in Gosport Marina. He's abroad working for six months. He's happy to let you live on board for as long as you like. In fact, he'd rather have someone on board, using the boat and looking after it.'
'Is he sure?' Horton felt cheered by the news. This was a stroke of luck. It sounded ideal. 'Does he know that someone's intent on setting fire to me?'
Elkins looked a little sheepish. 'Not exactly. I just told him a colleague who was a keen sailor needed a billet.'
Horton frowned, concerned. Should he insist that Elkins tell his mate the truth and risk losing the opportunity of somewhere to stay? But perhaps he could avoid anyone knowing where he was, which would be fine if he could get enough on Sebastian Gilmore to bang him up quickly.
'No one must know about it.'
Elkins nodded. 'He doesn't want any money either and says you can sail her whenever you wish.'
'Bloody hell, he's a very generous and trusting man! What on earth does he owe you, Dai?'
Elkins flushed and bristled. 'It's not crooked if that's what you mean, Inspector.'
'I didn't think it would be.'
Elkins relaxed. 'I helped him out once, that's all-'
'Saved his life more like,' Ripley shouted over his shoulder.
'Yes, thank you, Constable. We were called to assist a rescue operation off the Isle of Wight. As we were almost on the spot we got there before the lifeboat and coastguard. I saw this man in the water and pulled him out, that's all.'
Horton suppressed a smile. He knew that wasn't just all. Through chattering teeth, he asked, 'Have you had any joy confirming whether or not Sebastian Gilmore was in Cowes Marina on Tuesday night as he claims?'
'The marina staff said to check back tomorrow when Neville's working. He was on duty last Tuesday night. Neville's a nosy bugger. If anyone knows he will.'
Within an hour, Horton had showered, changed into dry clothes — uniform trousers, shoes and a sweatshirt — and was alone on board Elkins' friend's yacht with a cup of coffee in his scarred hands. The bandages had been consigned to the rubbish bin.
'Nutmeg,' he said, saluting her, whilst gazing around his spacious and luxurious surroundings. His phone rang. It was Uckfield.
'There was no sign of anyone hanging around the marina, but the ambulance sped away blue lights blazing just in case.'
'And Nutmeg?'
'She's gone. I'm sorry, Andy.' Uckfield left a pause before adding, 'Do you want a few days off?'
'No,' Horton declared vehemently. Then he told Uckfield where he was staying and asked him to keep it quiet. 'The fewer who know the better. There's only you, Elkins and Ripley who know and I'd rather keep it that way.' Except for Cantelli, whom he would tell later and whom Horton trusted with his life. Then he relayed to Uckfield his suspicions regarding Sebastian Gilmore and added, 'When we've got more information I'd like to be the one to confront him with it. I want to know if he's surprised to see me. I take it I can go ahead and instruct the economic crime unit to look into his, Rowland Gilmore's and Brundall's backgrounds now?'
Uckfield reluctantly agreed.
