Footsteps on the Shore

‘Your paperwork is shoddy and overdue, you do not adhere to proper procedure, you spend too much time interfering in other cases when you can’t solve the ones that you have, and clearly you have an issue with authority. I have therefore requested that you be removed from CID and posted to a more suitable position. Results are what we need in CID, not meddling and messing up critical operations.’

Again Horton said nothing. There seemed no point in defending himself because clearly she wasn’t going to listen.

Bliss continued. ‘DC Walters will also not be a member of my team. He’s too slow and idle. I was in two minds whether to keep Cantelli but I need some continuity, and Sergeant Cantelli will do as he’s told if he values his chances of promotion.’

Promotion! Cantelli! The sergeant wanted that about as much as a dose of swine flu.

‘I’m putting in a request for some new officers. You’ll hear about your transfer shortly and tell DC Walters to expect his. From the beginning of April this team will be a very different one. Meanwhile you will attend to your paperwork. You will not get involved with Superintendent Uckfield’s murder investigation, and you will not make any attempt to locate Ronnie Rookley. You will find Luke Felton. Is that clear?’

Horton nodded curtly and let out a long sigh as she swept from his office. If she had just calmed down she would have learnt of the possible connection between Venetia Trotman’s murder and Luke Felton. But she hadn’t even asked him to update her on any developments. Well, that was her lookout.

He rose and walked briskly into the CID office. Without preamble he announced, ‘DCI Bliss has requested that I be removed from CID, along with you, Walters. But Cantelli gets to stay under the ice maiden while a whole new bunch of razor-sharp detectives are brought in to solve every crime in Portsmouth within two minutes flat, without moving from their desk and with immaculate paperwork to show for it. So, as this is my last case in CID, I want Luke Felton found and I don’t much care who we upset locating him. Which means, Barney, you might risk all future chances of being promoted, and the joy of working for DCI Bliss.’

Cantelli shrugged. ‘Guess I could do with the exercise on patrol with you, Walters.’

Walters almost swallowed the ginger nut biscuit he was eating. With his mouth full he said, ‘I’ve got Luke Felton’s prison medical file, guv.’

‘And?’

‘Felton started his sentence at Winchester but he was transferred to the Isle of Wight after three weeks on medical advice, where he had hypnotherapy as part of his drug treatment. The woman who was treating him lived there and still does.’

This sounded promising. ‘Nice of the authorities to accommodate him,’ Horton muttered, wondering why Luke had got such special treatment to be granted alternative medicine and a transfer. Could he possibly be on the Isle of Wight with his hypnotherapist? The island wasn’t accessible from Portchester Castle; or rather it was by private boat, but if heading to the Island then surely Luke would have wanted a lift to Portsmouth Harbour or Southsea where he could have caught the ferry or hovercraft.

‘The hypnotherapist is called Lena Lockhart,’ Walters continued. ‘I’ve got her home and office address, but she’s not at her office. I haven’t tried her home yet.’

Horton knew he should ask the local police to interview her; that was what Bliss would say. But Bliss wouldn’t be his boss for much longer. And he might as well go out in style. He glanced at his watch.

‘I’ll pay her a visit,’ he said, knowing he was gambling on finding her in. She might be on holiday or with a client; she might know very little they didn’t already know about Luke Felton. But if Luke had contacted her then he didn’t want her prepared with some phoney story. And if Luke was there then he didn’t want him running off. Collecting his helmet and jacket he headed for the door, with Cantelli shaking his head after him.

SIXTEEN

A tall woman with long legs clad in tight jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt clasped to her small waist with a wide black shiny belt opened the door to him. She was in her late thirties, with long curly dark hair, chocolate- brown eyes and an attractive elfin face, and Horton didn’t blame Luke Felton for wanting to see her regularly. He reckoned most of the prison population must have jerked off the moment she walked through the gates.

‘I don’t see why I should betray a patient’s confidence,’ she said, waving him into a seat in the small flat which backed on to the railway line in Ryde. Out of the corner of his eye Horton could see the red and black former underground train drawing to a halt at the small station below them.

‘I didn’t know you were a doctor?’ he said.

She flushed. ‘I’m a hypnotherapist,’ she declared defiantly, as though waiting for him to scoff. He didn’t. He told her he wanted to talk about Luke Felton, but he didn’t mention that Felton was out on licence or that he had gone AWOL, and she gave no indication that she knew this.

‘And you were helping Luke Felton with what?’ he asked.

‘It’ll be on his prison records.’

‘I thought you might help us save time.’

‘Why don’t you ask Luke?’ Then her eyes widened and her face paled. ‘Has something happened to him? He’s not killed himself?’

Her slim hand flew to her perfectly shaped, red-lipsticked mouth. Beautifully manicured nails with red polish reminded him of Olivia Danbury, but her words reminded him of Ashley Felton, who also believed his brother capable of committing suicide. And that made him consider the body found in the harbour, before recollecting that Dr Clayton had ruled out suicide and that it was Luke. It was still possible that Luke, rejected by his brother and fed up with being treated like a prisoner at work, had got a lift from Shawford to Portchester Castle where he’d simply walked into the sea. But there were better places to do that — along Southsea seafront for starters, where he wouldn’t have had to wait three hours for the tide to come in.

‘Has he threatened to?’ Horton asked, curious. Walters had made no mention that Luke’s prison record had shown him to be depressed or suicidal.

Lena Lockhart sank heavily on to the chair opposite Horton and said wearily, ‘I thought I’d helped Luke to get over his depression.’

‘What was the cause of it?’

‘Prison, I would have thought, wouldn’t you?’ she replied tartly, her brown eyes flashing.

So she had a thing for Felton. And had Felton come here on his release? If he had he’d already moved on, because even though Horton couldn’t see into the bedroom his finely tuned ears and copper’s antennae didn’t detect anyone else being here except them.

Sternly he said, ‘He was convicted of murder.’

‘Yes, but he didn’t do it. He didn’t kill Natalie Raymonds.’

Horton smirked. ‘That’s what they all say.’ He wanted to provoke a reaction and he got one.

She jumped up, glaring at him. ‘And sometimes it happens to be true.’

‘How can he remember?’ Horton interrupted incredulously. ‘He was out of his mind on heroin.’

‘Yes. But under hypnosis he didn’t recall it at all.’

‘Surely the drugs would have obscured his memory?’

‘No,’ she declared emphatically.

Horton eyed her steadily for some seconds. She was adamant in her belief that Felton had been innocent. Was it just emotion talking? He had several unanswered questions about Natalie’s death himself; perhaps Lena Lockhart could help him get some answers.

‘Tell me,’ he said more gently, and genuinely interested.

She eyed him sceptically. He’d have to try a little harder to convince her. Leaning forward he said, ‘I know nothing about hypnotherapy, so treat me as a complete idiot. Explain to me how it helped Luke and why you believe he didn’t kill Natalie Raymonds.’

She hesitated for a moment, eyeing him warily, unsure whether to trust him. Then his sincere expression obviously made her decide she could. She resumed her seat, though she didn’t completely relax.

‘Hypnosis can help improve the psychological and physical well-being of an individual,’ she began a little