Then he rang Cantelli. ‘You were right. Bailey didn’t kill Natalie Raymonds, and neither did Ashley Felton or Neil Danbury. Duncan Chawley did. He tried to make me believe it was Sean Lovell.’
‘Then he must be sick in the head. Sean would be totally incapable of that,’ Cantelli cried vehemently.
‘That’s more or less what I said. Get over here, Barney. Charge Duncan Chawley with the murder of Natalie Raymonds and arrange for him to be taken into hospital. Make sure someone stays with him at all times and a woman police officer stays with his daughter-in-law, Julia. As soon as you’ve done that, meet me at the Youth Enterprise Sailing Trust.’
‘Why there?’
‘It’s where I’ll find Gavin Chawley.’
‘I don’t envy you telling him what his father did.’
‘He already knows.’
‘Ah.’
Horton headed for Portchester, checking his mirrors for any signs of the Georgian following him. He’d seen none on his way to the Chawleys’. There were a couple of motorbikes, but both overtook him on the small stretch of dual carriageway. He turned off at the industrial estate and headed down the road towards the shore until he was outside the Youth Enterprise Sailing Trust. No lights showed from the building but Gavin Chawley’s car was parked in the yard and there was a light shining from the cabin of the paddle steamer. He made his way quietly and carefully up the gangplank, and stepped on board. The cold wind was raging up the harbour, howling around the boat and squeezing itself through all the rotten wood and broken, rusted pipes. Horton was surprised Gavin hadn’t bolted; Duncan must by now have spoken to his son to tell him Horton was on his way. But then where would he go? Perhaps he thought he could bluff it out. And perhaps Horton should wait for back-up. But it was too late now, and besides, Cantelli would be here soon.
Gavin Chawley, wearing a white overall over a light grey suit, was carefully planing a piece of wood in the middle of the unfinished main cabin. ‘Dad said you’d be coming,’ he said briefly, glancing up before turning his eyes back to his task.
‘Then you know why I’m here,’ Horton answered in the same easy manner, taking a step further inside the cabin.
Gavin continued shaving the wood, his strong hands pushing the plane away from him, methodically, slowly and easily. His weather-worn face screwed up with concentration. ‘He said it was something to do with Luke Felton’s disappearance.’
But Horton could see that Gavin knew more than that. ‘Did your father tell you that he killed Natalie Raymonds?’
There was a perceptible tightening of the hands on the plane but Gavin Chawley’s rhythmic movement never faltered. ‘Sean Lovell killed Natalie. Dad was only trying to protect him.’
Something about Gavin’s remark nudged at Horton. He rapidly replayed the conversation he’d just had with Duncan Chawley. ‘How do you know Sean Lovell killed her?’ he asked, making sure to maintain the same even tone set by Gavin.
‘Dad told me.’
‘Why?’
A flicker of annoyance crossed Gavin Chawley’s face. ‘Because of Luke Felton’s visit.’
Eyeing Gavin closely, Horton said, ‘How did you know it was Luke Felton visiting your father?’
With a glance of exasperation Gavin said again, ‘Dad told me.’
‘I see,’ Horton said slowly. ‘So after Luke’s visit you went in to your father and said who’s that and what did he want, and he told you that Sean had killed Natalie?’
‘Yes.’
Wrong, but Horton contrived to look baffled. ‘But how could you have had time, when your wife told me that you raced after Luke Felton and didn’t return for hours?’
A flash of irritation crossed Gavin’s broad features. After a moment he said, ‘I opened the door to Luke. He told me his name and I asked my father if he wanted to see him. I remembered the name from Dad’s cases. He said to let Luke Felton in and that he’d come to see him about Natalie Raymonds’ murder, and that’s when he told me about Sean Lovell killing her and how he had to protect a fellow police officer.’
Horton gave an exaggerated frown, deciding to play dumb. ‘But if Sean Lovell killed Natalie, why did you go after Luke?’
‘To protect my father,’ snapped Chawley, pausing from planing the wood, and glaring at Horton as though he was an idiot. ‘He had covered up the fact that Sean killed her and I didn’t want it coming out and destroying his reputation. I wanted to find out what Luke remembered.’
‘And that’s why you killed him,’ Horton said sympathetically. He saw Gavin start but he quickly recovered himself.
‘No. Of course not.’
Horton threw him a pitying look. ‘We both know that’s not true, Gavin. Did you overhear Luke telling your father on that Saturday afternoon that he’d begun to remember certain things about Natalie’s murder and that he believed he was innocent?’
Chawley said nothing.
Horton continued. ‘Luke had been having hypnotherapy sessions while in prison, which were recorded. Is that why you broke into the hypnotherapist’s office on the Isle of Wight last Sunday? You stole the tapes to wipe out all traces of what Luke had remembered, just as you’ve wiped out all trace of Luke?’
Chawley returned to shaving the wood, frowning a little as he did so.
Horton went on. ‘The DNA on some of the hairs taken from the therapist’s office will match yours.’ The eyes that flicked up to Horton’s were more wary now.
‘You gave Luke a lift back to Portsmouth on that Saturday and told him you’d help him get to the truth. Did Rookley see you pull up outside Crown House and overhear Luke saying goodbye to you?’
Still Chawley said nothing.
‘Did you tell Luke to meet you on Tuesday at Portchester Castle where it all began in 1997?’
The hands hesitated for a moment before resuming their careful motion on the wood.
‘How did you kill Luke, Gavin? The same way you killed Ronnie Rookley?’ Horton kept his gaze steadily on Chawley. Would he continue to say nothing? Would he deny it? Or would a desperate desire for approval or his ego make him confess?
Chawley stopped planing and ran a critical eye over the wood while he said casually, ‘Rookley thought he could blackmail me.’
Horton’s heart jumped a beat. ‘And that’s why you met him in the cemetery at the committal of a lady called Margery Blanchester, who has left this organization a generous legacy. How did Rookley know how to get in contact with you?’
Chawley scowled. ‘I gave Luke my mobile number. He didn’t have a mobile phone but he scribbled the number down on a piece of paper. Rookley must have got it off him, or found the paper. And I told Luke that I could use someone like him at the sailing trust.’
And, Horton thought, when he and Cantelli had questioned Rookley in the cafe over Luke’s disappearance, the little crook had seen his chance to make some money.
Picking up the piece of wood, Chawley turned to face Horton. ‘Rookley telephoned me Friday morning. I was on my way to the funeral. I said I’d meet him in the cemetery. He said that unless I gave him money he’d tell you about my meeting with Luke. I told him to meet me at the lock but half an hour before you were due to see him, only he wasn’t getting any money. I knocked him out while he was leaning into the boot of my car to count it, or so he thought. I pushed him inside and slammed it shut.’
‘And then you hit me.’
Chawley nodded. ‘You’d think it was Rookley or one of his accomplices. And it would stop you following me if you were sharp enough to see me drive off.’
So the sound of the motorbike pulling away had nothing to do with Rookley or Luke’s death. But Horton already knew who that was: their Georgian. And where was he now, Horton fleetingly wondered. But then he
