Footsteps on the Shore

was it a question of who would have had the opportunity to frame him. Rather, who could have done it so convincingly and so competently without Luke Felton ever having been on the Hayling Coastal Path in 1997? Horton knew there was only one answer.

TWENTY-FOUR

Julia Chawley opened the door to him. ‘I’ll check my father-in-law is up to speaking to you,’ she said, looking anxious, and scurried away leaving Horton to follow her through the hall and into the kitchen. There was no sight of the children, though he could hear faint sounds of them coming from upstairs.

He crossed to the breakfast area and pushed open the door to the right, which he’d noticed the last time he’d been here. He stood among the toys, gazing at the children’s paintings on the walls, remembering how he’d been called upon by his daughter many times to admire her artistic endeavours. He hoped he’d share that experience again. The paintings were of houses, with children larger than the house playing beside them; but there were many of boats. One had a large red and black funnel.

‘He’s ready to see you now, Inspector.’

He spun round. She had crept up so silently behind him. Her shy smile reminded him of Venetia Trotman.

She led him to the sick room, where after tapping lightly on the door and admitting him she faded away. Duncan Chawley was in the same position and in the same chair as on Horton’s previous visit. The room was also just as hot, although Chawley — dressed in a woollen sweater and with a thick checked rug over his legs — was impervious to the heat.

‘Mind if I take my jacket off?’ Horton said. The sweat was pricking his brow and his shirt, sticking to his back within seconds.

‘Be my guest.’ Chawley waved a bony hand at him.

Horton clambered out of his heavy leather jacket, thankful he only had a shirt underneath it and not a suit jacket. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,’ he began, ‘but we’ve not been able to find Luke Felton and there are a couple of things that have come to light about the investigation into the Natalie Raymonds murder.’ He perched on the seat opposite Chawley, trying not to think about that smell of death, recalling what the sailing club secretary had told him: Luke’s father had been a member of the club and Luke had been a regular visitor there even after his fall from grace and the attack on Bailey’s mother, mainly because his father had been held in such high respect. But the Feltons hadn’t been the only members.

‘Like what?’ Chawley’s yellow eyes narrowed.

‘Like the fact that Peter Bailey has admitted to lying about seeing Luke Felton on the coastal path the day Natalie was killed in order to pay Felton back for attacking his mother.’ He held Chawley’s gaze, which despite his illness showed no emotion. He added, ‘Which means that Luke Felton was never there, and if he was never there then someone-’

‘You don’t have to spell it out, Inspector,’ Chawley quipped. ‘I may be ill but I’m not an imbecile.’

Coolly Horton said, ‘You knew Bailey was lying from the start.’

‘Yes.’

There was no hesitation. No denial. And there wouldn’t be. Chawley had lied about Peter Bailey, so what else had he lied about? A great deal, if Horton’s deductions were correct. He eyed the former superintendent steadily.

‘I knew you were the type of copper who wouldn’t stop digging until he had all the answers, like I used to be.’

‘Until the Natalie Raymonds case,’ Horton said evenly.

Chawley didn’t answer.

‘You knew Luke Felton didn’t kill her.’

Again Chawley remained silent. That was tantamount to admitting it. Horton didn’t feel sorry for Chawley now, but angry. ‘You let an innocent man go to prison while the real killer got off scot free.’

‘He was scum,’ Chawley said calmly.

‘His parents weren’t,’ Horton replied stiffly, recalling what Cantelli had told him. ‘They were destroyed by what they believed their son had done.’

Chawley’s eyes held Horton’s without showing a flicker of remorse or regret. Containing his anger, Horton said, ‘Luke Felton was drugged and held captive. Evidence was planted on Natalie’s body to frame him for her death and yet you never spoke out. Who were you protecting?’

And that was the critical factor, thought Horton, the one thing he’d missed until now. All of Chawley’s actions on this case, all the gaps in the investigation, pointed to one thing: protection. He was cross with himself for not spotting it sooner, but sometimes a thing has to be shoved under your nose several times before you see it. No one could have planted the evidence so carefully, swept away all discrepancies at the crime scene so competently and completely, except a police officer.

Tautly, Chawley said, ‘A good officer’s career and family would have been destroyed if I hadn’t done what I did. I wasn’t going to allow that to happen. I’ve no regrets.’

‘Who was it?’ Horton asked tersely, knowing that he wouldn’t be thanked for exposing this. The media would love it, the public’s confidence would be shattered and the Chief Constable would have to take the flak on the eve of his retirement. Horton wished he could simply walk away but it wasn’t in his nature. He hated corruption.

‘DCI Sean Lovell was having an affair with Natalie Raymonds.’

Horton hastily hid his surprise. His mind conjured up the man he’d worked with on the drug squad years ago: easygoing, friendly Sean Lovell, a devoted husband and father. No. It wasn’t possible. Sean wouldn’t have had the money Natalie craved but he would have had the power, especially if Natalie had been dealing in drugs and Sean had given her protection from being exposed.

He eyed Chawley closely as the sick man continued. ‘Luke was a junkie, and violent. He was no use to society whereas Sean was a good officer, one of the best, and he fell hopelessly in love with Natalie. She was a real looker, one of those women who could have any man eating out of the palm of her hand within minutes.’

And Sean Lovell had died of a heart attack not long after the case. Could that have been provoked by stress?

‘How did he meet her?’ Horton asked brusquely.

‘I blame myself for that. Sean was with me at the Castle Sailing Club when Natalie came in with Julian. I could see that they were immediately attracted even though they played it cool. I said nothing. Sean was happily married. He wouldn’t wreck his marriage but he damn well nearly did. He asked Natalie to leave Julian and said he would leave Tina. Natalie laughed at him. She said they were having fun, so why ruin things. Sean was devastated. He simply lost it and before he knew it she was dead. He didn’t know what to do so he came to me and confessed. I wasn’t going to let his career go down the pan because of a tart like Natalie so I told him to say nothing, that I’d handle it.’

‘So you planted the evidence against Luke at the scene of the murder.’

‘Yes. And then Bailey came forward to say he’d seen Luke on the path. And Luke Felton was so pilled up he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. He believed it when we told him he’d killed Natalie.’ Quickly Chawley added, ‘I know it’s hard to believe of Sean. I couldn’t believe it myself at first. But Natalie Raymonds was one of those predatory women. She knew exactly how to use sex to get what she wanted, whether that was money, power, fun or revenge. She’d pick her victims carefully, seduce them, suck them dry and then kick them over. She took pleasure in other people’s pain and saw every man as a challenge, a conquest.’

Horton knew the type. Icily, he said, ‘And what did she want from Sean?’

‘She wanted him to worship her and she wanted to destroy his marriage.’

‘Why?’

Chawley gave a dry laugh. ‘To show she could. It was part of her power. And she had photographs and videos of them together. She would use them to blackmail him whenever she wanted.’

Chawley’s body slumped, as though exhausted both mentally and physically, and his breathing became more laboured. Concerned, Horton said, ‘I’ll fetch your daughter-in-law.’