tragic chain of events ending in his death and Anmore's.
He leant forward. He didn't much like what he had to say but there was no way round it. 'OK, theory number one. Bella Westbury is here to stop Sutton from blabbing about where he was in 1959 and to make sure he's left no written evidence when he dies. She can also check that Arina knows nothing about her father's secret, whatever it is. By some strange and tragic fluke Arina gets killed by a hit-and-run driver in the same place as Owen killed his parents. Because Owen loves Arina and was planning to marry her he believes her death is a punishment for him killing his parents. He calls on Nelson because he saw him at Sutton's funeral and is now worried he might have recognized him from 1990, when Nelson had treated Owen Carlsson, or knew something about his medical background. Thea comes home to comfort her brother. Owen by now is filled with guilt and remorse, and confesses to her what he did in 1990. She kills him, either with a gun Owen had, or she's teamed up with Anmore and used his gun. Then Thea kills Anmore and has gone into hiding.'
'Or killed herself,' added Cantelli sorrowfully.
Horton took a breath. He had to admit it was possible.
'What's theory number two?' asked Trueman, pushing his plate away.
'Bella Westbury is here to stop Sir Christopher Sutton's secret from coming out, but Sutton says something to his daughter before he dies. Arina tells or hints at this secret to Owen. When Arina is killed by Bella Westbury or someone working with her, Owen gets curious, concerned and angry. He starts to investigate if there is any truth in what Arina's told him, which takes him to Edward Nelson GP, Sir Christopher's old friend and colleague. Nelson tips Bella the wink, or someone who is working with her, so Owen Carlsson too has to be silenced.'
'And Anmore?' asked Trueman.
'Maybe he overheard something, or saw Bella talking to a colleague.'
'Danesbrook?' suggested Cantelli.
'I doubt he's got the intelligence to be working with a sharp operator like Bella, but we might as well haul him in again just in case he's brighter than he looks.' Horton scraped back his chair. To Trueman he said, 'Tell Marsden and Somerfield to pull Bella Westbury in. She could still be our killer.'
'And you?' asked Trueman.
'We're going to talk to Dr Edward Nelson.'
Cantelli looked alarmed. 'We? I'll be no good to you, Andy. If I have to sail anywhere I'll be throwing up all over the place.'
'OK. Interview Bella. See what you can get out of her.' Cantelli heaved a sigh of relief. To Trueman, Horton said, 'Dave, check out when Sutton was diagnosed with cancer. Has the warrant come through for Scanaford House?'
'Yes.'
'Then get a team in there even though we're too late. And another team into Danesbrook's place and Bella Westbury's cottage.'
'How does this fit with the photograph and Helen and Lars Carlsson's death?' asked Cantelli, following Horton out of the canteen.
Trueman said, 'Sutton was working in London at the Hammersmith Hospital as a consultant surgeon in 1990.'
'Yes, but he owned Scanaford House then.' Horton saw it all in a flash. 'It has a ghost and Helen Carlsson was reputed to have been psychic, or at least interested in ghosts, hence the book she bought and inscribed for Thea, which went up in smoke in Owen's house. Maybe Helen went to photograph Scanaford House and saw Sir Christopher Sutton talking to someone from British Intelligence.'
'Could it be this 'girl' that Thea asked Peter Bohman about?'
'Maybe, Barney. Or it could have been Bella Westbury.'
Uckfield looked up from the crime board. 'Bloody hell, it's the three musketeers. I thought you lot had gone home.'
'No, but I am going out,' Horton replied, picking up his helmet.
'Where?'
'Sergeant Cantelli will explain; I've got a ferry to catch.'
Uckfield looked about to explode but Cantelli quickly interjected. 'I'll tell Dr Nelson you're on your way.'
'No. I want to surprise him. I might catch him off guard. He must know more than he's told me.'
'What if he's not in?' said Trueman.
'He will be,' Horton replied with conviction.
TWENTY-ONE
Nelson showed no surprise as he opened the door. This time Horton was shown into a comfortably furnished lounge where a gas fire hissed incongruously in a large brick fireplace. There was no sign of Mrs Nelson and no explanation of where she was.
Horton took a seat on the floral patterned sofa wondering if Nelson had been warned by someone that he was on his way. He didn't for a moment suspect either Trueman or Cantelli of going against his instructions, which meant he could have been followed, though he hadn't noticed anyone as he crossed on the ferry. And he'd seen no one watching Nelson's house.
On the crossing, Horton had received a call from Cantelli. Despite Marsden and Somerfield's surveillance, Bella had somehow contrived to give them the slip. Horton wasn't really surprised. He didn't think Marsden and Somerfield had been incompetent but an old professional like Bella Westbury had probably already worked out an escape route. He suspected that she'd climbed over the garden wall into neighbouring properties until she could call a taxi, or meet up with someone ready to help her disappear.
He told Cantelli to get Marsden to check the boat at Cowes, though he knew she'd be long gone, and to alert Sergeant Elkins of the marine unit to look out for it. Elkins would contact the harbourmasters and marinas around Portsmouth and along the south coast. He gave Cantelli the name of the boat, knowing that Bella Westbury could pull into any harbour, or even motor to London and up the Thames.
'So how can I help you, Inspector?' Nelson said, switching off the television news and settling himself in the armchair to Horton's right.
'Did you know Owen Carlsson before he came to visit you here?'
'I met him at Christopher's funeral.'
'I mean before then. Was he ever a patient of yours?'
'No.'
'Are you sure?'
'I may be old but I am not senile, Inspector,' Nelson replied somewhat tartly. 'My memory is very good.'
'I'm glad to hear it, sir, because in that case you can help me with another matter.' Nelson had played right into his hand. 'National Service,' he said flatly.
Nelson raised his bushy eyebrows. 'What of it? I told you that Christopher and I served together in Tripoli.'
'I don't think you did, sir,' Horton replied politely, knowing full well Nelson hadn't mentioned it.
'I could have sworn I did. Maybe my memory is fading, after all.' Nelson's lips twitched in a sad smile, but the play-acting at dementia wasn't going to wash with Horton. There was nothing senile in Nelson's sharp gaze or behind the intelligent blue-grey eyes. Nelson saw he couldn't fool Horton and gave a small smile before adding, 'Christopher and I were both in the Royal Army Medical Corps and stationed at the British Military Hospital in Tripoli.'
'Did you tell Owen Carlsson this?'
'I don't recall mentioning it.'
Nelson was stalling, waiting to see why Horton wanted to know and how much he already knew. Was he in the pay of British Intelligence? Could he have informed them that Sutton had terminal cancer?
'Why do you want to know about our National Service time?' Nelson pressed when Horton remained silent. 'It was years ago.'
