'Between nine last night and two this morning is the nearest I can get for you. It's difficult to say whether he was killed in situ or moved. But if he was moved, then judging by the pattern of lividity, which is rather limited because of the tightness of the diving suit, it must have been very soon after death.'
Which meant that he must have been killed either at or quite close to Oldham's Wharf.
'There's not a lot more I can tell you, Inspector. He certainly didn't put up any kind of struggle. He wouldn't have had time to react.'
And his killer had taken that into account. Horton was disappointed at the lack of information. He hoped the forensic examination would get something from Farnsworth's car or Taylor from the scene of crime, but he wasn't holding his breath.
'Did you get a chance to look at the PM report on Daniel Collins?' he asked.
'I did. My colleague was right, death by dry drowning. As Collins entered the cold water it caused his throat to constrict and shut off supply to the airways.'
'Anything unusual strike you?'
She eyed him curiously. 'You think the two deaths are linked?'
'Only by the fact that they were both divers and died fairly close to each other.'
'I think you had better rule that out, Inspector,' she replied firmly.
Horton recalled the photographs taken at the scene of the incident. 'The car windows were open.'
'He probably thought the fresh air would help to sober him up when we all know it only makes things worse. You step outside after a skinful and wham; you don't know what year it is, let alone what day of the month. There was enough alcohol in Daniel Collins's bloodstream to dull his reactions, but not to completely comatose him, hence he must have gasped as his body hit the freezing water. He was too intoxicated to know or reason how to get out of the car, and as I said, the cold water killed him almost instantly by shutting off his air supply.'
So, no case to answer there. But if this was a professional killing then surely that was exactly what they would be expected to find — Collins's accidental death, Irene Ebury's death by natural causes, and Peter Ebury's respiratory failure. The hairs tingled on the back of his neck. He didn't like the thought of it one little bit. He'd dearly love to know if the Intelligence Directorate had someone in mind for these deaths. But even if they did, they wouldn't tell him; this thought fuelled his anger. He didn't like being kept in the dark, and he especially disliked not being trusted.
The day was drawing in as they headed back to the station. Horton felt restless and irritable. Maybe his mood rubbed off on Cantelli because he caught him glancing at his watch several times in an hour. Then Horton's mind rose above the fog of this blasted case to remember that Cantelli's father was being buried tomorrow. Feeling guilty that he had completely forgotten about it, he sent Cantelli home before he could get caught up with Uckfield's investigation late into the night. Cantelli slipped away without protest and a grateful nod.
Horton went in search of the officer who had arrested Farnsworth on the drink drive charge and found him in the canteen. Fetching a coffee, Horton pulled up a chair opposite PC Bateson, a broad-shouldered, redheaded man in his mid-forties.
'What was Farnsworth like last night when you brought him in?'
'Spitting blood and threatening to tell the newspapers what a useless bunch of idiots we were. Pity that second test was negative. We couldn't even charge him for using the mobile phone whilst driving because by the time we reached him he'd hung up. Not that it makes any difference now. I hear he's been found dead.'
'Yes. Did he mention anything about where he was going? Or about being late for an appointment?'
'No, but he kept looking at his watch. We said he could make a call, but he simply said, 'I won't be here that long, officer.' And the bugger wasn't.'
'Where did you pull him over?'
'Along Milton Road, just before the turn off into Velder Avenue.'
Which would have taken Farnsworth on to the dual carriageway heading north out of the city, and past both Salterns and Oldham's Wharfs. But perhaps Farnsworth hadn't intended turning into Velder Avenue. He could have been heading straight on which would have taken him past the prison and eventually out of town. He could have been visiting yet another one of his sexual conquests.
'Did he let you drive his car here?'
Bateson eyed him incredulously. 'He said he would rather take the chance on it being vandalized than let me or Harris in it. He left it in the pub car park.'
'Did anyone drop him back there?'
'We didn't. Someone might have done.'
'Call into the pub tonight, Bateson. Ask if anyone saw Farnsworth drive off. If so when and in what direction.'
Horton then checked with John Gatcombe, the custody clerk who had been on duty last night. Gatcombe confirmed what Bateson had said about Farnsworth's mood. 'No one arranged for him to be taken back to his car from here. I assumed he called a taxi on his mobile.'
Horton would get Walters on to that tomorrow morning. He pushed open the door to the incident suite and found Uckfield, Dennings and Trueman staring at the crime board as though it might reveal the answer to Farnsworth's death. All three were jacketless. Both Dennings and Uckfield were showing signs of fatigue and frustration: Dennings by the sweat patches under his arms and Uckfield by the deep scowl on his careworn craggy face. Trueman, though, looked as fresh as when he had started work some twelve hours ago. Horton suddenly became conscious that he hadn't changed back into his normal clothes. He'd completely forgotten that.
'Well?' Uckfield demanded.
Horton knew he was referring to Dr Clayton's findings.
Perching himself on the edge of a vacant desk, he quickly brought them up to speed with her findings and his investigations of the day without any mention of his diversion to the bed-and-breakfast hotel opposite the Rest Haven Nursing Home. He had half expected to see Lee here on some pretext or other, but then he surmised if Uckfield had been taken into the Intelligence Directorate's confidence, he could relay all this information to its boss, who in turn would inform Lee.
Uckfield listened impatiently with a grunt here and there and some rolling of his eyes, especially when Horton got to the part about Farnsworth's Narcissistic Personality Disorder. When Horton had finished, Uckfield summarized, 'So Jackson and Kirkwood are our strongest suspects.'
Horton nodded. 'Yes, with Ryan Oldham as an outside possibility.'
Uckfield crossed to the water cooler and wrenched a plastic cup from the cone. Over his shoulder he said, 'Trueman, find out if any of our suspects are karate experts, and that includes Corinna Denton and Daisy Pemberton. Get a list of all the martial arts clubs in the city and cross-check their members with those of the sub- aqua club.'
Uckfield took his drink and crossed to the crime board. 'Nothing's shown up from the questioning at Oldham's Wharf so tomorrow, Dennings, take Marsden and another officer with you and get over to Farnsworth's house in Haslemere. Talk to the neighbours, and Deansworth estate agency. Find out what's the word on Farnsworth. Is there someone we don't know about? Horton, you interview Oldham.'
Horton didn't mention the funerals. He could fit Oldham in before going to Daniel Collins's cremation. Addressing Trueman, he said, 'Did you find out what Farnsworth did in the navy?'
'He went in a seaman and came out one. I haven't yet been able to get access to his full service record, but I'm working on it. He missed the Gulf War and the Falklands so there wasn't much to shout about. He was born and raised in Bognor. His parents are both dead and he was an only child.'
Had Farnsworth been spoilt rotten by his doting parents? Had they contributed to his Narcissist Personality Disorder without realizing it? wondered Horton. He wouldn't mind talking to some of Farnsworth's ex-shipmates to see what they had made of him. He wondered also if Farnsworth had learnt to dive in the navy. Not that it probably had any relevance.
He said, 'I could have a word with the police psychologist, see what he says about Farnsworth's NPD.'
Uckfield threw his crushed cup into the bin. 'If you think it will help.' Horton could tell by his tone that Uckfield was of the opinion it wouldn't.
Horton made his way back to the CID office feeling drained and dejected. His week off was looking more attractive by the minute. This case was beginning to get to him. Was it one case or three? According to Doctor Clayton it was one: Farnsworth's death. It was time to go home and hopefully sleep, but he knew his unanswered
