Guilbert said, 'Right, I'll start looking into Jacobs' death and re-interview Newton to see if I can get anything further from him. Keep me posted.'
'Likewise.'
Horton stuffed the file on Jennifer into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and hurried along to the incident room as Trueman came off the phone.
'I was just trying to get you. Marsden's found a link between Anne Schofield and Rowland Gilmore. They attended the same seminar in 1996. He's finding out if their acquaintance developed after that. And I've got some news about Peter Croxton.'
'Never mind about him,' Horton said excitedly, crossing to the crime board and staring again at the photograph of Brundall. Of course, he could now see clearly the line of Brundall's vision and it wasn't into camera. Lynmor had discovered the fishermen's secret, and had to be killed. Jacobs was murdered because Lynmor might have told him that secret. Taking up a pen Horton began to write the information Guilbert had given him on to the board saying, 'I think I've got an ID on the skeleton. He's-'
'Andy, I think you'll want to know about Croxton.'
Horton paused in mid scribble and turned. The intonation in Trueman's voice told him this was vital information.
Trueman said, 'Croxton doesn't exist. At least not the one who was involved in that marine incident. None of the Peter Croxtons alive or dead matches the age profile of the rescued yachtsman and neither has a Peter Croxton ever lived at that address in Guildford. He gave the coastguards a false name.'
Horton stared at Trueman, his mind racing with this new information. Croxton had disappeared quickly after the incident and hadn't shown for Warwick's funeral. Why? Because he didn't want anyone nosing into his business, or discovering who he really was. So was Warwick's death an accident or had Croxton and the others killed him and now Croxton, or whatever his real name was, had finally silenced the last of those who knew his identity: Sebastian Gilmore. Correction, the last but one. There was him. But he had no idea who Croxton really was. And how the devil were they going to find Croxton? The trail was as cold as that freezer he'd found Sebastian in.
'We'd better see if we can track down any of the coastguards who rescued Croxton to get a description,' Horton said, not very hopeful. He didn't blame Trueman for looking at him incredulously.
'Inspector,' a voice hailed Horton, 'Sergeant Cantelli's on the phone for you.'
Horton took the receiver, but before speaking into it said to Trueman, 'Also see if you can find a missing persons report for a David Lynmor. I believe he's the skeleton in the air-raid shelter. He was a journalist. Yes?'
'I think we've got something on the CCTV recordings that might just interest you,' Cantelli said.
Twenty-One
'It was Walters who spotted it,' Cantelli said.
Horton hid his surprise. 'Glad to know you've earned your keep at last.'
Walters bit into his Mars Bar as Cantelli said, 'This is the recording from yesterday evening at seven twenty- five. Sebastian is seen walking into the warehouse. It's taken from the camera in the yard. Nobody goes in after him but someone comes out half an hour later. See here.' Cantelli pointed at the screen and Horton was looking at a short, square-set man, wearing a cap pushed low over his head. He frowned, puzzled. Could this be Sebastian Gilmore's killer, Croxton or whatever his blessed name was, or was it a relative of their skeleton?
'Who goes into the warehouse before Sebastian?'
'Apart from the usual staff, Selina Gilmore and Janice Hassingham.'
And there was no reason why they shouldn't be there.
'I recognized Janice Hassingham,' Walters piped up, having finished his chocolate bar. 'She's on one of the recordings I checked earlier when I was looking for the muggers. She's walking up Queens Street.'
'She lives there, Walters.' Then Horton added sharply, 'That was Wednesday. What time?'
'About half past five.'
'That's early for a woman who usually works late at this time of the year, preparing the accounts,' Horton said thoughtfully.
'She could have had an appointment,' suggested Cantelli. 'Or decided to go Christmas shopping at Oyster Quays.'
Or she could have left early to go to a Cathedral service. There was nothing suspicious in her being in Queens Street, but he said, 'Get the recording, Walters, and check the exact time.'
Walters pulled himself up and crossed to his desk where he burrowed under his paperwork to find it. Turning to Cantelli, Horton said, 'Is she on the recording leaving her office at eight last night?'
Cantelli fast-forwarded it. 'There she is.' He pointed to a figure in a long raincoat heading towards the gates. Horton stared at her, feeling he'd just seen something important but couldn't place what it was. Sebastian's car was parked in front of the building.
Walters called out, 'Got it, guv.' He inserted the DVD into the disk drive on his computer, adding, 'I'm sure it's her. You can't mistake that coat, though you can't quite see her features even if I were to enhance it because of that bloody stupid hat. But there's a better shot later.'
'Hat!' Horton felt a bolt of excitement shoot through him. That was it. He was beside Walters in a trice. 'Hurry up, man.'
Impatiently, Horton waited and finally Janice Hassingham came into view. Horton stood back from the screen with a smile. 'Recognize her, Cantelli?'
'Eh?'
Horton saw it was an effort for Cantelli to bring himself back to the case. 'She was at Horsea Marina the night Brundall was killed — the woman in the flowerpot-shaped hat. Janice Hassingham was there.'
'Perhaps she went for a meal,' Cantelli posed.
Horton scoffed. 'A likely story!'
'It's one she could tell though.'
Cantelli was right and Horton couldn't see her killing the man she had loved, or bashing Anne Schofield on the head and setting fire to her. Nor was she the person who had tried to kill him on his boat. She wasn't tall enough. She couldn't have killed Sherbourne either. Apart from the fact that she had to get to Guernsey, she wouldn't have been strong enough to lift a dead body and dump it in Sherbourne's office. But he was very curious to know why she had been at Horsea Marina the night of the fire and why she hadn't thought to mention it. His instinct was screaming at him that she knew something about these murders and he was going to determine what.
His phone was ringing. Heading for it, Horton tossed over his shoulder, 'Get her full address, Walters. Ask Seaton for it, he's at the scene of crime — but don't say why we want it.'
'I've got your missing man,' Trueman announced. 'David Lynmor, aged thirty-four, five feet eleven. He was a freelance journalist. His wife reported him missing on fifth of September 1998. She emigrated to Canada in 2004. There's a son.'
Horton had been right. This was their skeleton and he'd probably been killed by Brundall and the Gilmores and even this Peter Croxton. He gave a silent crow of victory. Maybe his revengeful relative theory was right after all.
'How old is the son?'
'Born in 1996.'
Horton felt the bitter taste of disappointment. The killer couldn't be a vengeful son then. 'Any other relatives?' he asked hopefully. Maybe Lynmor's brother had come seeking revenge and he was the man seen leaving Sebastian's warehouse last night.
'I haven't got the complete file, but there's none mentioned in the online report.'
Horton wasn't going to give up on that idea yet. 'Get the full details, Trueman, and ask the Canadian police to contact Lynmor's wife.' Should he now say widow? 'We'll be able to match DNA from the son to confirm it really is Lynmor.'
He put down the receiver and was about to call Uckfield when his mobile rang. He hoped it would be Frances Greywell but it was Charlotte Cantelli and she sounded worried.
