against the empty CID office, Horton called him from his mobile.
'DC Lee worked in the Operational Planning and Policy Unit,' Ferris said without preamble.
So she was telling the truth, Horton thought, with an edge of disappointment. 'How long for?'
'Six weeks.'
Not long. 'Her boss?'
'Superintendent Warren.'
'OK. Thanks, Ray.' He'd been wrong. It wouldn't be the first time and he was certain it wouldn't be the last either. He was about to ring off when Ferris stalled him.
'That's the official version.'
Horton was suddenly alert.
'Can you talk?' Ferris quickly added. 'And I don't mean in your office.'
Horton rose, his pulse quickening. 'Hang on.' Swiftly he crossed the CID room until he was standing in the empty corridor by the coffee machine. 'And the unofficial one?'
'I haven't told you this, and don't ask where I got it from. She's from the Intelligence Directorate.'
Horton felt cold. Intelligence Directorate dealt with major and complex crimes such as drugs or people trafficking, money laundering, tracking international criminals and extortion on a national and international scale. Why here, why now? What the devil was going on?
'If I end up back on the beat, it's you I'll come hassling.' And Ferris rang off.
Horton exhaled. Collecting his plastic cup of coffee, he returned to his office, mulling over what he had just learnt. So he'd been right about Lee. That didn't make him feel any better.
Ignoring the ringing phone in the CID office and then his own, Horton trawled his mind, going back over the events of yesterday before Lee had been sent in and Bliss shoved out. What had happened before then to warrant such drastic and prompt action from the Intelligence Directorate? He'd said to Cantelli that he suspected Lee's arrival was due to the fact that although Bliss didn't want him to investigate Irene Ebury's death, someone wanted him to run with it. Now he knew who. But how could a nursing home involve such a heavyweight organization as the Intelligence Directorate?
He ran through the sequence of events at the Rest Haven: Mr Kingsway's bellowing; climbing the stairs to Mrs Kingsway's room; his viewing of the room where she and Irene Ebury had slept; the trip to the basement…No, hang on. Slowly he put down his coffee. Of course! He'd looked out of the window of Irene Ebury's room and seen that curtain twitch in the house opposite.
He sat up, his mind racing, trying to grasp the significance of that, and then he recalled the burly man in a waxed jacket walking on the opposite side of the road. What an idiot he'd been! He should have seen the signs — hadn't he been on enough undercover operations to spot them? That nursing home had been under surveillance and still was for all he knew. But why? Whatever the reason, it had to be something big. And did that involve Daniel Collins? Yes. Otherwise why would DC Lee want to follow up his death and visit the sub-aqua club?
Horton delved into the papers on his desk and retrieved the road traffic report on Collins's death. Once again his phone rang, but he ignored it and the caller left no message. He read through the report carefully already knowing what he would find, or rather what he wouldn't. Nowhere did it mention that Daniel Collins worked at the Rest Haven and yet Lee had said he did. She had claimed that Mrs Collins had mentioned it on the telephone but had she? He could easily ask her. His eyes flicked to the clock and with surprise he saw it was almost ten thirty. It was too late to call her now. He didn't want to disturb her, though he guessed her nights were now already very disturbed.
Daniel had died on Christmas Eve, so had that been when the Intelligence Directorate had stepped in? Or had it been after Irene Ebury had died? Then another more chilling thought struck him. If there was any truth in this mysterious intruder that Mrs Kingsway had seen bending over Irene Ebury, had it been one of Lee's colleagues checking out Irene's belongings? For what though?
Horton rose and paced the floor, the blood pounding in his ears. Could their involvement have any connection with his mother? No, it wasn't possible. But the thought made him hot under the collar.
He wrenched opened the blinds and thrust back the window, letting the frozen air cut through him like a knife. Somewhere, amongst all that he'd learnt so far about the Eburys and Daniel Collins, was buried some vital piece of information that had connections to a major crime and he was missing it. So, too, was the Intelligence Directorate, otherwise why send Lee to work with him?
His phone rang and this time he snatched it up to find the custody clerk on the other end.
'I've been trying to get hold of you, Inspector. I heard you wanted to be informed about Nicholas Farnsworth.'
He'd forgotten all about him. 'Has he been booked in?'
'And out again.'
'Why? His breathalyser test must have been positive.'
'It was when he was pulled over, but it was negative when he was tested again here. We had to let him go.'
Horton cursed and rang off, then thought that it didn't really matter. He had other more important things to think about, and top of his list was fathoming out just exactly what the Intelligence Directorate was after at the Rest Haven Nursing Home and why the hell he was being kept in the dark.
NINE
Wednesday 7 January
Horton's anger and curiosity kept him tossing and turning for most of the night, so that by the time DC Lee arrived the next morning he had unearthed three cases left over from Christmas, which would keep her occupied for days and away from the Rest Haven and Daniel Collins. Maybe then she, or her boss, would be forced to let him into their confidence.
He wondered if Uckfield knew about the Intelligence Directorate's investigation. He hadn't when Horton had spoken to him earlier about Lee, but he might now have been put in the picture, as Horton suspected Superintendent Reine had been. Maybe he should see the boss and ask him outright. But if Reine had been sworn to silence, then he wouldn't break that; Horton had learnt that with ambitious men like Reine and Uckfield loyalty to their superiors far outweighed any loyalty to their subordinates. He was just about to summon Lee to his office when his phone rang.
'This is Ryan Oldham. Get over here now. There's something you need to see, and don't send that moronic fat bastard.'
The line went dead and Horton, fuming, stared at his phone. The moronic fat bastard he took to be Walters who had gone to Oldham's Wharf on Monday to investigate an alleged break-in. Well, if Oldham thought he could simply command and he would come running then he had another thought coming.
He called reception and demanded to know why the call had been put directly through to him only to be told that Oldham had insisted on speaking to a senior detective immediately or he'd call 'the bloody chief constable'.
'That's no reason not to warn me first,' Horton said crossly.
'Sorry, sir, but the switchboard's going ballistic this morning. Everyone's finally woken up after Christmas. And there have been so many accidents on the roads in this God-awful weather that we're stretched to breaking point.'
Not completely appeased, Horton slammed down his phone and marched out to the CID office. He didn't have time to investigate Oldham's claims of moving trucks. Then he reconsidered. Oldham's Wharf was very close to where Daniel Collins had died. Maybe visiting the scene of the incident would give him inspiration; it often worked that way. And he recalled that Cantelli had said Marion Keynes's husband, Ian, worked as a lorry driver for Oldham. Cantelli could have a word with Keynes. Perhaps he'd let something slip about Irene Ebury's stolen belongings. OK, so he'd have to put up with Oldham ranting about trucks that had mysteriously moved in the night and suspected burglars, but he could handle that. It meant forgoing the appointment with social services though. Damn. All his intentions of keeping Lee at arm's length looked set to go out of the window. He couldn't send Walters because he
