mind: whether the Rest Haven Nursing Home was still under surveillance by Lee's mates from the Intelligence Directorate.
THIRTEEN
It wasn't. He could see that instantly. There were no vans with darkened windows parked in the street, no twitching curtains and no strange men walking up or down. Cantelli went off to the Rest Haven whilst Horton slipped across the road to the bed-and-breakfast hotel opposite. Twenty minutes later he was climbing into the car, where Cantelli was already waiting for him, having learned that an oriental-looking young woman and a burly man had taken the room opposite the Rest Haven on 29 December and had left on the afternoon of 5 January — Monday — when he and Cantelli had shown up there in answer to Mr Kingsway's complaints. During that time, according to the hotel owner, the young woman hadn't been very well and had hardly left the room. That wasn't surprising, thought Horton.
He hadn't given the real reason for his inquiries; instead he'd told her that he was looking for somewhere to stay whilst his aunt was in the Rest Haven. It was the same reason that DC Lee and her partner had given.
'Daniel Collins never mentioned Farnsworth to any of the day staff,' Cantelli said, turning on to the seafront. 'They only know Farnsworth through the diving programme that Mrs Kingsway's such an avid fan of.'
'It was a long shot.' Horton stared out to sea. The Isle of Wight stood out starkly, always a sign of bad weather approaching. He could see the town of Ryde climbing the hill and the shapes of the houses along Seagrove Bay. Cantelli hadn't questioned his trip to the bed and-breakfast hotel and now Horton wrestled to put the information he'd just learnt with the other scraps he'd gleaned about Lee, which wasn't much at all. Maybe Cantelli would come up with something. He told him what he'd just discovered.
Cantelli looked incredulous. 'But what could be going on there that warrants the Intelligence Directorate's involvement?' he asked, puzzled.
It was a question Horton had already asked himself several times. He said, 'It has to be something to do with the Eburys; the Intelligence Directorate pulled out on the morning of Peter Ebury's death thinking they were no longer needed there.'
'Then why put DC Lee with us?'
'Scared we might stumble on something and ruin their investigation I reckon.'
'And does it involve Daniel Collins?'
Horton wondered about that. 'Possibly.' But why and how he didn't know.
'And Farnsworth?'
'No. I think it's just a coincidence that he and Daniel were both divers.' Though the close proximity of their deaths still rankled with Horton.
'You mean the Eburys and Daniel Collins could have been professionally silenced?'
Horton stared ahead. 'It's possible.' Especially, he thought, if a major criminal was behind whatever the Intelligence Directorate were investigating. 'Let's just tread carefully, eh, Barney, and keep this to ourselves for now?'
'I'll make out like I'm tiptoeing through a minefield. I just hope there are no unexploded bombs lying in wait for us,' Cantelli said, swinging into the car park of the Queen's Hotel. 'Do you think Marion and Ian Keynes could be involved in what's going on at the Rest Haven? Angela Northwood doesn't much care for Keynes. She claims she's lazy and a poor manager of staff. She confirms Keynes was on duty Christmas Eve.'
Horton thought of the slovenly, overweight Marion Keynes with her spiteful tongue, and of what Mrs Collins had said the night Daniel Collins had died: he wanted to make sure I had the best possible treatment and was going to see to it that I did.
'It's possible,' he said. 'We'll talk to her again.'
Horton quickly scanned the reception area of the Queen's Hotel for journalists and was relieved to find there weren't any. They were probably all at Uckfield's press conference. They made their way to Kirkwood's room. Outside Horton said, 'Talk to Corinna again, Barney. Find out what she knows about Farnsworth's relationship with Nathan Lester and the marine archaeological project, and see if she knows of or has heard of Daniel Collins.'
Horton knocked once, got no answer, and was about to knock again when the door opened.
'Found out who killed him yet?' Kirkwood said, leaving Horton to close the door behind him.
Kirkwood flopped down on the bed where Horton could see he was working on a laptop computer. His faded jeans hardly stayed up on his slender hips and he was wearing an overlarge grey T-shirt. With his pale green eyes, slightly sallow complexion and short auburn hair, he looked little more than twenty-five, though Horton guessed he was older.
Horton eyed the dishevelled room with distaste. There were clothes scattered on the floor and papers on the dressing table and chest of drawers. The room smelt of sweat, sleep and stale beer as well as the remains of a hamburger, which he could see in a carton on the bed.
'Why did you make those last two threatening calls to Mr Jackson?' It was a guess, but a good one, and Horton saw instantly he was spot on. Kirkwood's head came up. He looked as if he was about to deny it, but after a moment he shrugged his skinny shoulders.
'It seemed like a good idea at the time. Thought I might get them worried.' His attention returned to his computer.
'You might have managed to get one of them killed.'
Kirkwood scoffed. 'How do you make that out?'
'The press coverage could have given our killer the idea.'
'Then Nick shouldn't have started it. It was a stupid idea. Nick was full of them.' Kirkwood didn't bother looking up from his computer screen.
Horton had had enough. Sternly he said, 'Mr Kirkwood, do you think I could have your full attention, or would you rather answer these questions at the station, where you will be free from distractions?'
It did the trick. Kirkwood sighed, pushed down the lid of the laptop and shifted his narrow backside up the bed so that he was leaning against the headboard. 'Fire away.' He folded his arms and eyed Horton curiously.
'When did your engagement to Ms Denton break up?'
Kirkwood's expression darkened. 'August, but the bastard had been screwing her since June. He took great pleasure in telling me that. And it was while we were filming the Diving off Dorset series. I should have left him trapped in a wreck, the two-timing scheming git.'
'Instead you lured him to Oldham's Wharf and killed him?'
'You're kidding.' Kirkwood's lips formed the edge of a smile, then obviously seeing that Horton was serious, he quickly added, 'Of course I didn't.'
'You quarrelled though.'
'Wouldn't you? I told Corinna not to be such a bloody idiot. She said she and Farnsworth were in love.'
Those pale green eyes weren't so relaxed now, thought Horton. Here was a man who'd had his pride severely dented and his ego crushed. Horton knew what it was like to be tossed aside and compared with the next lover and his body stiffened involuntarily. He had wanted to tear Edward Shawford, his wife's lover, to pieces and had only just managed to stop himself. Had Jason Kirkwood felt the same way and killed Farnsworth? Quite frankly, though, looking at him, Horton didn't think Kirkwood strong enough either mentally or physically to get the better of Farnsworth.
Kirkwood said, 'You have to understand Nick. He took pleasure in taking what he wanted from people, using them for his own purposes and then spitting them out again when he'd finished with them or got bored. He would have done the same with Corinna if someone hadn't done us all the favour of killing him.'
It was pretty much what Daisy had told him. Horton sat on one of the two chairs that faced the bed. 'What would Farnsworth have wanted from Corinna, apart from sex, that is?'
Kirkwood winced, but said sharply, 'Me off the programme and more of a say in who should be his co- star.'
'He didn't get on with Perry Jackson?'
'They hated each other's guts, but they were contracted to do the series. This is the third and there's another
