sadomasochism.
Horton sighed. ‘It’s late, Barney. Let’s sleep on it.’ Tomorrow they might get some fresh evidence from the search of Bailey’s premises and car. And tomorrow he’d re-interview Edward Shawford.
TWENTY-TWO
Cantelli left to oversee the search of Peter Bailey’s premises after making sure that Horton hadn’t received a nocturnal visit from his stalker.
‘All quiet on the marina front,’ Horton reported, trying not to show any traces of fatigue. He doubted he was fooling Cantelli. The sergeant looked as though he’d been awake half the night worrying about it, which made Horton feel guilty. Perhaps he was being selfish. Strangely enough, though, he’d managed a few hours of untroubled sleep without any dreams or sounds of motorbikes disturbing him.
Walters went off to track down the remaining mourners at the funeral, which left Horton free to interview Edward Shawford. He promised Cantelli he’d take someone with him and was just wondering if PC Seaton was on duty when his phone rang. It was Dr Clayton.
‘John Lauder’s come through with some information on your mystery lady,’ she announced excitedly.
‘That was quick,’ Horton said, surprised.
‘Being a forensic anthropologist he’s usually only got a few old bones or a skull to work on, or if he’s really lucky a complete skeleton. So when I sent him photographic images, measurements and the full autopsy report it was a doddle, or so he claims. Plus I said it was urgent. I’ll tell you what he’s discovered when you get here. And before you ask, yes, I have told Superintendent Uckfield, or rather DI Dennings. But the reason I want you here isn’t for the pleasure of seeing you again, nice as that usually is, but Perdita’s also got some rather interesting information on your symbol, which I haven’t told Dennings.’
That changed everything. Shawford could wait.
On his way to the mortuary Horton speculated as to what both Lauder and Perdita had discovered. Would the former help Uckfield find his killer? Horton sincerely hoped so. Perhaps he already had a lead on it. And what about the symbol? Was its interpretation going to point him in the direction of Zeus and his mother? Horton felt a quickening pulse as he pulled up in the hospital grounds.
He found Dr Clayton in her office staring at a laptop computer screen. She looked up with a smile.
‘I was right,’ she cried triumphantly. ‘According to John Lauder, your mystery lady is not of British or American origin, she’s from Eastern Europe. Lauder thought Russian at first, but when he investigated further, taking skull and facial measurements into consideration, and based on the information I gave him, he says she is Georgian.’
Horton’s mind quickly tried to grapple with this new information and what he knew about Georgia, which was about as much as he knew about astrophysics. He recalled the anonymous caller and his foreign accent. There had to be a link there surely? And no doubt Trueman had already made it, along with contacting the Georgian authorities to see if he could get a match on Venetia Trotman’s fingerprints and DNA. He’d probably also sent her photograph and description over to Georgia and Europol, asking them to circulate her details.
He said, ‘She might originate from Georgia but we don’t know when she lived there, if she ever did. She could have been born in the UK to Georgian parents.’
‘You want sugar on it?’ Gaye rolled her eyes. Then she smiled. ‘If you recall, I noted that she had very little dental work-’
‘I haven’t seen the report.’
‘Of course, it’s Superintendent Uckfield’s case. Well, Lauder has confirmed my opinion that the dental work was not carried out in the UK.’
And Horton wondered what Uckfield would make of that. He was keen to find out, but not keen enough to forget the other pressing matter that had brought him here.
Not bothering to disguise his excitement he asked, ‘And the symbol?’
Gaye beckoned him around to her side of the desk. ‘Extremely interesting and highly significant, given what I’ve just told you.’ She pointed to the screen and he swivelled his puzzled gaze to it. She continued. ‘On the face of it, it looks like the pagan “deadly” symbol: a cross and a circle above it. But the cross intersects at the bottom not in the middle.’
Horton found himself staring at an enlarged picture of the symbol which had been left on the hatch of his yacht.
‘Perhaps whoever did it can’t draw,’ he said, recalling Cantelli’s hasty and perfunctory research.
‘There is always that, but Perdita says if you look closer you can see that there is some kind of small bar across the right axis near the bottom, not far from where the cross intersects.’
Horton peered at the screen as Gaye flicked on an enlarged image. He saw clearly what she meant. It was the same on his Harley, only he hadn’t been studying that for artistic merit, minute detail or even interpretation, he’d been too angry.
Gaye went on. ‘On the pagan deadly symbol there is a circle resting on the axis of the cross, but in this drawing it is high and above the cross. It also has a jagged edge and isn’t a true circle. And before you say it, I suggested it could be because someone’s hand was shaking when they drew it and they were incapable of drawing a perfect circle.’
‘And her reply?’
‘She thought the circle was more star like, and much too high to be associated with the deadly symbol.’
‘Well that’s a relief. Unless it means something worse?’
‘There are also two shapes either side of the cross.’
Which Horton had seen on his Harley as two small etched lines. But he hadn’t bothered to examine their shape or include them in the drawing he’d shown Cantelli because he thought the vandal was having fun scratching squiggly lines. In the drawing pinned to his yacht, the shapes were far more distinctive, something he hadn’t paid much attention to when he’d ripped it off.
‘On the left,’ Gaye said, pointing, ‘is a small letter “b” with something like a hangman’s scaffold on the top, and on the right is a small line with almost a circle adjoining it.’
‘Aren’t they just random marks?’ he asked, knowing that they obviously weren’t.
‘Perdita says not. The one on the left, the extended “b”, she believes represents, in its simplistic term, the Georgian letter “L”.’
Horton eyed her with surprise, his mind leaping with thoughts and ideas.
‘I thought that might get you excited. Now you know why I wanted you here. It ties in with what Lauder has told us about our mystery lady. And there’s more.’
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘The other symbol she thinks is the Georgian letter for “U”. Putting that together with the cross and the starlike circle at the top, Perdita believes the “L” symbolizes the word “Lion”, and the “U” stands for “Unicorn”. The Lion generally represents courage, strength and nobility and the Unicorn, purity and virtue. Perdita claims that we’re looking at a coat of arms of Kartli.’
‘Where?’
‘That’s more or less what I said, but I looked it up on the Internet, and asked Perdita. Kartli is a historical region in central eastern Georgia better known to classicists as Iberia. It used to be a separate country with its capital at Tbilisi, which is Georgia’s capital, but it’s now divided up. The Georgians living in the historical lands of Kartli are known as Kartleli. Why should someone leave
‘And etch it on my Harley.’
‘My God! I wouldn’t like to be the person responsible for that when you catch him.’
Horton wondered if he ever would. But he also felt a great sense of relief that his stalker wasn’t connected with Zeus. Given that Lauder said Venetia Trotman was from Georgia, then if the author of this note was her killer why draw attention to himself? And why become his stalker? The answer came as quickly as he’d posed the question. His stalker and the anonymous caller were the same person. He hadn’t killed Venetia Trotman but wanted
