Cantelli answered. 'The lab has confirmed that the fragments of the bullets found in Owen's body match the gun you found Thea with.'
'Could it have been Anmore's?'
Kate Somerfield said, 'Charlie told me that his son often sailed to France. Perhaps Jonathan picked up the gun there.'
She had a point. Horton said, 'Anmore's boat is small enough not to draw too much attention from the Customs boys.'
'Why not simply register and buy a gun here or use one at a gun club?' asked Cantelli, folding a fresh piece of chewing gum in his mouth.
'Perhaps he didn't want to be bothered with the red tape?' suggested Trueman. 'Or he only wanted it for target practice in his barn.'
'Should have bought himself an air rifle then,' Horton added sourly.
Uckfield rose and immediately let out a howl of pain, clasping a hand to his back. They all stared at him, surprised.
'You all right?' asked Horton, concerned.
'Do I bloody look it?' Uckfield hissed through gritted teeth.
'Perhaps you've pulled a muscle.'
'Yeah, laughing at you clowns, who couldn't catch the clap in a brothel never mind a triple killer.' He flashed Horton a hostile look before trying to straighten up, decided it wasn't a wise move and made a vain attempt to hobble to the crime board.
Horton threw Trueman a look. What's wrong with the Super? Trueman shrugged. No idea.
Horton said, 'There could be another reason for Owen's death, which puts Bella and Danesbrook in the clear.'
'Then for God's sake tell us,' Uckfield snapped. 'Or do we have to play twenty questions?'
'Owen could have witnessed something when he was out gathering data for his survey.'
'Like what?' asked Trueman.
'He was on the coastline so it could be smuggling, boat stealing, or dumping waste in the sea or in a coastal stream.'
Cantelli looked up. 'He could have found something which incriminated someone-'
'Such as?' grunted Uckfield, screwing his face up with pain.
'A body, a treasure trove, guns. Owen Carlsson could have seen Anmore bringing in guns. He confronted him and — bang.' Cantelli made a shooting movement with his two fingers.
Horton addressed Trueman. 'When was the last time the boat was used?'
'I'll check with the lab.' He lifted the phone.
Horton continued. 'And check if Customs have ever stopped him.'
Trueman nodded before speaking into the telephone.
Uckfield, with his hand on his back and clearly in some discomfort, said, 'We need to find out where Owen Carlsson went in the days before he was killed-'
'Before Arina was killed,' corrected Horton. 'Her death could still have been a warning for Owen to keep his mouth shut.'
'Yeah, and as we haven't got his diary we're back to asking Joe Public to help, which is about as much good as a split condom. No one's come through with a single sighting of him since that woman saw him on the Cowes chain ferry. And there's still no sign of Thea Carlsson.'
And that was worrying Horton. He hauled himself up with a glance at his watch. He wasn't going to find Thea by sitting around here discussing theories. Besides, he and Cantelli had an appointment. He nodded to Cantelli who unfurled himself from his chair.
'Where are you going?' demanded Uckfield, surprised.
'Ghost hunting.'
'What?' Uckfield's bellow turned to a yelp of pain.
'Gordon Elms is the author of a book that Helen Carlsson inscribed for her daughter and it's possible that Thea went to visit him.'
'And where the devil will that get us?'
Horton didn't know. Both Bella Westbury and Danesbrook had denied all knowledge of Thea's whereabouts but then they would if they'd killed her. 'You'd better see someone about your back,' he called out, not stopping to hear Uckfield's answer, which if true to his usual form would be a string of profanities.
'The super's obviously been overdoing it,' Cantelli said, pointing the car in the direction of Gordon Elms' house. 'Looks like he's taken on more than he can handle with this Laura Rosewood. What's she like?'
'Attractive, widowed and a friend of the Chief Constable's.'
Cantelli flashed him a look. 'He's playing a bit close to home. I hope his wife never finds out.'
Horton thought of Alison Uckfield and agreed. It wouldn't do Uckfield's career much good either.
Cantelli said, 'Elms has got his own website and seems to be something of a celebrity in ghost hunting circles.' He handed Horton a piece of paper.
Horton read aloud. ''The Isle of Wight is reputed to be the most haunted place in Britain. It is home to a medley of ghosts, spooks and spirits. Take a walk around Cowes with ghost hunter and popular author Gordon Elms, and discover the mysteries of the old town. Sign up for a tour of the many houses and hotels on this mystical magical island where ghosts still haunt the halls and corridors.'' He looked up. 'Scanaford House?'
'I can't see Sir Christopher Sutton opening his house to the weirdos of the world.'
And neither could Horton. Nor could he see Arina Sutton doing the same — but Roy Danesbrook as the owner? That was another matter altogether. Cantelli was obviously following his train of thought.
'Be a good money-spinner though. Especially for someone like Danesbrook. Spend a night in the haunted house and spot a spook.'
'Does Danesbrook know Gordon Elms?'
'He says not.' Cantelli yawned. 'I can't handle these late sessions like I used to. Must be getting old.'
'If it's any consolation I'm feeling just as rough.'
Cantelli dashed him a glance as if to check. 'Charlotte called this morning,' he added, pulling into the traffic.
'Anything wrong?' Horton asked anxiously, sensing Cantelli's concerns.
'She says Joe's missing the only male in the household, and with five women, three of them hormonal if you count Charlotte, I said who can blame him.' Cantelli smiled, but Horton could see he was worried.
Joe and his six-year-old twin sister, Molly, were the youngest of Cantelli's brood. Ellen, the eldest at sixteen, had caused Cantelli some sleepless nights recently and he guessed her sisters, Sadie, who was fourteen, and Marie now twelve were probably fast catching up on the worry front. Horton wondered if he'd be around to see his own daughter through troubled times. He had to be, there was no question of that.
'How are the girls?' he asked.
'Ellen's more interested in boys than studying, so nothing new there. Sadie's dancing her feet off, loves all that ballroom and Latin American stuff, and Marie's blossoming now she's started at that new school.'
Horton recalled that Marie had had the misfortune to be sent to one of the worst inner city schools in Portsmouth — the one he'd been condemned to spend some years at as a child — because all the places at the schools Cantelli and Charlotte had applied for had gone by the time the local education department had found their lost application papers.
Cantelli said, 'She's only been there a fortnight and loves it. I can tell you, getting her into St Crispins, and her winning that scholarship, is the best thing that could have happened even if I did have to promise to return to the fold of Catholicism. I'd have converted to Buddhism if it took that to make her happy. And I would have sold my soul to the devil to pay for her school fees if she hadn't got a scholarship, clever girl. Just to see her face light up every time she talks about it is worth… Sorry.' Cantelli flicked Horton a glance. 'There's me wittering on when you must be worried sick about Emma. Any news on that front?'
Horton found himself telling Cantelli about Emma's phone call and Catherine's plans to send Emma away to school.
'Why don't you visit the school?' Cantelli urged. 'It wouldn't do any harm to see what it's like. You've every
