'What did he go there for?'
'I'll ask him when I see him.'
'Which you won't. It's my case, remember.'
'How could I forget?' Horton sipped his Coke and ate his curry.
Through a mouthful of turkey, Dennings said, 'I told the super that it was about time we hauled Sebastian bloody Gilmore in and formally questioned him.'
'I don't think Uckfield wants to do that without more evidence, knowing how influential Gilmore is.'
'Well, that's where you're wrong.' Dennings scraped back his chair. 'Because we're bringing him in tomorrow morning.'
'On what grounds?'
'That he might be our killer.'
Might wasn't good enough as far as Horton was concerned. Not with forceful characters like Sebastian Gilmore. You needed firm evidence or at least the appearance of it, and Horton knew they didn't have this. A solicitor would tear holes through their vague suspicions in seconds. He was surprised at Uckfield.
He said, 'Gilmore has an alibi for Brundall's death and Anne Schofield's.'
Dennings paused. Horton saw the triumphant, half cocky gleam in his eye. 'Alibis can be falsified.'
Had Dennings broken Sebastian Gilmore's alibi, he wondered as he watched him strut out of the canteen. If he had then Horton was annoyed he hadn't been told and peeved he hadn't discovered it himself. He tossed back his Coke, mentally running through the facts of the case. No, he was sure Dennings was bluffing. But he had a point. Could Sebastian Gilmore have lied about his whereabouts when Brundall was killed? If he had, then his daughter had also lied as had the sales director at Tri Fare. It wasn't beyond the realms of fantasy. And maybe it was worth putting some pressure on that sales director.
He rose and took his tray of used crockery back to the trolley next to the kitchen, earning himself a smile from the young catering assistant. He was confident that Dennings would get very little out of Sebastian Gilmore. Uckfield had probably agreed to it out of desperation that he was getting nowhere fast with the case.
Back in his office, Horton called Inspector Guilbert in Guernsey and updated him on the case, assuming that Dennings wouldn't have done so, and he was right.
'I'm interviewing Russell Newton tomorrow,' John Guilbert said. 'Anything in particular you want me to ask him?'
'Find out all you can about that party on board his boat. Who was there? Who did Brundall talk to? How well did Newton know him? You know the kind of thing. Oh, and there is one more thing you can ask…' Horton hesitated; he was going to ask Guilbert to find out from Newton if Brundall had ever mentioned Jennifer. But Horton couldn't quite bring himself to say it. 'Did Brundall ever talk about his past as a fisherman, or mention a man called Warwick Hassingham?'
That night Horton carefully checked outside the boat at Gosport Marina. There was no sign of anyone loitering and with the marine unit keeping a close eye, Horton was able to relax a little. Reaching his hands behind his head he lay on the bunk and deliberately forced his thoughts away from Catherine and Emma and on to the case.
Had Sebastian Gilmore killed Jennifer Horton because her boyfriend, Warwick, had told her about the drugs? Had his mother been a junkie and Warwick her supplier? He didn't remember her as such, but he didn't know the difference between his true memory and what other people, and his boyhood pain of rejection, had put there in its place.
Then another thought occurred to him. Had Warwick Hassingham's death really been an accident? Had Warwick been about to betray the others, or had he already betrayed them to Jennifer? Did the three other fishermen push Warwick over the side of that fishing boat? Did this Peter Croxton know that? He was threatening to tell, perhaps blackmailing Brundall and Sebastian Gilmore who from 1995 onwards had been very wealthy men. So he had been silenced and dumped in the air-raid shelter. It made sense except for the age of the skeleton. Could Gaye Clayton be mistaken?
Sebastian could have given Warwick's sister the job of accountant because of a guilt complex for killing her brother. But the secret that Brundall had wanted to confess to Rowland hadn't been killing Warwick; it had been murdering Peter Croxton and, once Rowland had heard that, he couldn't let it rest. He must have called his brother to tell him he was going to the police, and hence he'd been silenced. Like Dennings had said, alibis can be false. Anne Schofield was killed because she had found a confession that Rowland must have written and in it there had been something about Jennifer and how she had been involved back in 1977, which was why she had called Horton.
Horton rose and began to pace the boat, testing out his theory. After Warwick's 'accidental' death had Sebastian comforted Jennifer Horton as a means of finding out what she knew? Had Jennifer become a liability, so had to be killed? If so, which of them had done it? Sebastian or Brundall? Horton just couldn't see Rowland in that role. Well, Brundall was dead. But if Sebastian Gilmore had consigned him to those years of children's homes whilst he'd lived in comfort and security, then by God Horton would make him suffer. Who said revenge was a dish best served cold? Too right it bloody was and he would serve it right in Gilmore's face.
Twenty
Tuesday: 8 A.M.
H orton rose early and managed to clear a mountain of paperwork before Cantelli knocked and entered. Swiftly, Horton brought the sergeant up to date with events.
'So when are you going to tell me about almost being fried alive?' Cantelli declared.
Horton cursed silently. The station grapevine was working well. He could see that Cantelli was concerned and the last thing he wanted was him worrying. Light-heartedly he said, 'I was saving the best bit until last.'
'You should have called me.' Cantelli looked peeved.
'Barney, you've got enough to cope with at the moment-'
'That's no reason to neglect my friends.'
Horton was warmed by Cantelli's words. It was typical of him to consider others even in the depths of his own sorrow. And Horton knew how deep that was. He could see by the haunted look in his dark eyes, sunk like caverns in his lean face, that Cantelli had had little sleep and was grieving inside. He should be with his family; this wasn't the place for him but Horton could hardly order him home.
Cantelli said, 'I hear the boat's a write-off. So, where are you staying?'
Horton had to tell him. He trusted Cantelli more than anyone else. He glanced at his door; it was open but there was no one immediately outside. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice as he said, 'Elkins got me a billet on this boat in Gosport Marina. It's like living in Buckingham Palace after slumming it on poor little Nutmeg. No one knows except Elkins, PC Ripley, Uckfield and you. I'd rather it stay that way until I know who's after me.'
'But why, Andy? Why you? And don't give me all that stuff about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I know it's tosh.'
Horton sat back and frowned. He should have guessed that Cantelli would see through him, and that he would get to the nub of the matter before either Uckfield or Dennings. Yet, it was difficult for Horton to speak of his mother. He felt this was a defining moment. Should he tell Barney, or whitewash it? But Cantelli deserved more than waffle. This was the man who had stood by him no matter what had been said about his morals, behaviour and professional conduct. Cantelli deserved the truth. After a moment he said, 'Close the door, Barney.'
Cantelli did as he was told. When he was seated, Horton told him about the newspapers in Gilmore's study, the conversation that Gutner had overheard and his fears about his mother's involvement. He didn't find it easy. He tried to speak dispassionately, as though he was giving a report, and yet he couldn't ignore the tension inside him. Maybe it showed in his voice? If it did then Cantelli gave no sign he saw it. Cantelli was the first and only person inside the force he had ever spoken to about Jennifer.
The sergeant listened in silence, looking at first puzzled and then deeply concerned, but not pitying. Horton was glad; he couldn't have stomached that, but then he wouldn't have expected pity from Cantelli. Even though Cantelli had never known the kind of rejection that Horton had experienced, having been raised in a loving family,
