'Of course not, and neither can I think of anyone who would want to kill Nick. Surely there's been some mistake. Couldn't it have been an accident?' he asked with the air of a desperate man.
Horton's answer was in his expression.
'I must speak to Corinna.' Jackson reached for his mobile.
'In a moment. We understand that she and Nick were lovers.'
'Yes. Have you spoken to Jason? Not that he'd care about Nick. He's probably glad he's dead. He never did like Farnsworth especially since Corinna…' Jackson halted, then shrugged, 'No doubt you'll find out soon enough. Corinna was Jason's girl before Farnsworth grabbed her from under his nose.'
That was news. Jason Kirkwood had an alibi until just after ten when he had retired to his room. Was there enough time for him to have met Farnsworth and killed him after then? He would have just managed to catch the tide, so yes, Horton guessed it could be possible. Even more so if he had arranged to meet Farnsworth by car at or near Oldham's Wharf. But that still didn't answer the questions why had Farnsworth been wearing diving gear and why kill him at Oldham's Wharf?
And what about Jackson's alibi? thought Horton. He seemed very keen to push Kirkwood at them.
'Can you tell us your movements last night, sir?' he asked briskly.
'For God's sake! This is ridiculous. You can't suspect me!'
'Just tell us where you were between eight p.m. and ten this morning.'
'In the hotel,' Jackson replied stiffly.
'Can anyone vouch for you?'
'Do they have to?' he said in a withering tone. When neither Horton nor Cantelli replied, he was forced to continue. 'I was alone in my room. The staff will tell you they saw me at breakfast this morning with Corinna.'
No alibi then. Farnsworth had trusted his killer enough to meet him and Jackson fitted that bill. Then Horton had another thought. Perhaps it had been another of Farnsworth's stunts, which had backfired. He'd ended up falling into that pit and Jackson had hastily made it look like murder by hacking off his colleague's fingers. It would be interesting to see what the post-mortem revealed.
'Do you own a boat, Mr Jackson?'
'Yes, but what has-?'
'Where do you keep it?'
'I have my own berth adjoining the house.'
'Which is where?
'Hythe Marina, Southampton, if you must know. Look, just what are you driving at?'
Jackson could have brought his boat to one of the nearby marinas or moored it on a buoy. He could have used it to take Farnsworth either dead or alive to Oldham's Wharf. Horton would ask Sergeant Elkins of the Marine Support Unit to check if it was still in the marina. And if it was, could Jackson have had enough time to dump the body, then pilot the boat home to Southampton this morning before returning to Portsmouth by car? It was perfectly feasible. Another thing that Elkins could check up on.
Horton said nothing of this to Jackson, instead he said, 'Southampton's less than thirty miles away. Why are you staying in the Queen's Hotel when you could have driven here daily?'
'I hardly think that's your business,' Jackson sniped. 'If you really must know,' he added tersely, 'there is a considerable amount to do in preparation for the series. It made perfect sense to get as much done as we could in a week. And have you seen the traffic on that motorway every morning? Well, then you know that commuting is a nightmare. I chose to use my time productively not stuck in a car on the M27.'
Jackson was now clearly annoyed and exasperated at the line of questioning. Fear had touched him when he thought he might be the next victim or the intended one, but what Horton hadn't seen was any kind of sorrow over his partner's death. And there was a great deal that Jackson should be asking him, which he wasn't, such as how had Nick Farnsworth died? Who could have killed him? But then perhaps he already knew the answers.
'Did Mr Farnsworth own a boat?'
'He preferred to use other people's. Cars were more his taste. Now, if you don't mind, Inspector, I have a great deal to do. There are calls I need to make.'
Horton held Jackson's hostile stare, looking again for a small glimmer of grief. He didn't find it. There was a lot more that Horton wanted to know about Jackson and his relationship with Farnsworth, but he judged that now was not the right time to discover it.
He rose. 'We'll need to talk to you again. Please let us know if you intend checking out of the hotel.'
Jackson was already reaching for his mobile phone before Horton had extricated himself from the desk, but at the door Horton paused, and in true police fashion said, 'Oh, just one more thing. Who inherits Mr Farnsworth's estate?'
'I haven't the faintest idea.'
Horton contrived to look surprised. 'Wouldn't he have made a will, diving being a dangerous pastime?' He saw, with satisfaction, Jackson flush at the word 'pastime'.
Clearly restraining himself with difficulty from rising to the insult, Jackson said, 'He might have done, but that doesn't mean to say he told me about it.'
No, thought Horton, perhaps he hadn't. He heard Jackson address Corinna, as he closed the door and turned to find Nathan Lester hovering nervously in the outer office. Leaving Cantelli taking an obsessive interest in a wall chart next to the door of the office, Horton asked, 'Where is everyone?'
'Oh, no one works here. This is just a resource centre for the divers registered on the Marine Archaeological Project.'
'And you're one of those divers?'
'Yes, so are Perry and Nick. How did Nick die, Inspector?'
Looking anxious and pale, Lester had asked the question that Jackson should have done. Horton wasn't yet prepared to divulge any information surrounding Farnsworth's death.
'How well did you know him?' he asked.
Lester sat down heavily. 'We've been diving together a few times. I can't believe he's dead.' He withdrew a handkerchief from the pocket of his casual trousers and blew his nose noisily.
'What is the Marine Archaeological Project?' Horton asked. He could still hear Jackson's voice rumbling in the background.
'There's a group of us that dive in and around the Solent area. We register what we find on a central database.' He pointed to the computer. 'We're making a map of the underwater heritage in order to help preserve it. Nick was our patron. He'd managed to get some funding for it and get all this equipment donated. He was due to speak at an international conference in June about the project.'
He ran a hand through his hair. Horton thought his face seemed to have grown thinner in the last twenty minutes.
'Perhaps Mr Jackson will step in?'
Lester looked anxiously towards the door and dropped his voice. 'Perhaps he will, but it won't be the same.'
Horton thought there was something strangely akin to hero worship in Lester's voice. And, seeing how distressed he was over Farnsworth's death, Horton was beginning to wonder if it was more than that. On Lester's part at least. Horton had no doubts as to where Farnsworth's sexual proclivities lay.
He also wondered how Jackson felt about Nick being chosen to speak at such a prestigious conference. Horton had a couple more questions, but not about Farnsworth. He said, 'Did you know Daniel Collins?'
'Yes.' Lester looked surprised. 'He died in a car accident on Christmas Eve.'
'When was the last time you saw Daniel?'
'Just before Christmas. The twenty-first.'
'Did Mr Farnsworth know him?'
'I don't think so. Nick never said.'
'He didn't go diving with him?'
'No. If you want to know who Daniel went diving with, then you can check the sub aqua club's record book.'
Manners hadn't mentioned that. Horton looked blank and Lester elaborated. 'Every diver has to check his equipment, sign to say he or she has checked it and then log the time they leave, state their intended dive location
