A Killing Coast

daughter’s usual visit. He could have got his days muddled up.

‘Is your father in good health?’

‘Yes, excellent, why?’ she asked antagonistically. Then quickly following his drift, added, ‘You think he might be confused, well I can tell you Dad’s mind is as sharp as a razor, and he wasn’t depressed either.’

Horton didn’t pursue it. He didn’t think Lisle had committed suicide; why should he? Unless, he’d killed Colin Yately. He said, ‘Does your father keep his car in a garage?’

‘Yes. He rents one. It’s the middle one in a block of three along the road just before the footpath that leads down to the bay.’

She made no further comment, obviously assuming her father had gone out in his car. Horton interpreted Uckfield’s look to keep silent.

‘If he gets in touch, please let us know immediately.’ Uckfield handed her his card. ‘Or call the local police. We’ll make sure the front door is secured and then repaired, and we’ll put an officer outside the house and call you the moment we have any news. Meanwhile, if you, or your husband, remember anything about where he might have gone, please let us know.’

She protested that they were making an unnecessary fuss. Horton toyed with the idea that she might be right but he said nothing and neither did Uckfield. At the door Horton asked if her father liked hiking.

‘He used to with Mum, but he hasn’t been for years.’

Horton had the feeling she wouldn’t have known if he had taken it up again and perhaps with Colin Yately. He took down her address which, after she’d left, Norris confirmed was only a few streets away. Horton thought it a little unusual that although she lived close by she seemed to visit her father rarely and know so little about him. But perhaps Arthur Lisle liked it that way. Perhaps it was all Rachel Salter could do to bring herself to visit him once a week because she disliked her father or was afraid of him. Horton hadn’t got that impression but then Rachel Salter could be putting on a good front. They hadn’t asked her about Lisle’s personality, because there was no need to at this stage, and they hadn’t asked her about the dress found on Yately’s body.

They watched her climb into a new Land Rover and drive away. He was glad she hadn’t insisted on accompanying them to the garage.

Raising his collar against the rain, Uckfield said, ‘Lisle’s mobile’s completely dead. It didn’t ring as I told the daughter, she’ll discover that soon enough, which means he’s ditched it.’

‘Or it’s been damaged in an accident,’ suggested Horton.

Norris was hurrying towards them. ‘The boat’s still in the bay. Do you want it taken away for forensic examination?’

Uckfield said, ‘Put a tarpaulin over it for now.’

Norris nodded and added, ‘The old lady opposite says Lisle has been at a loss since his wife died eighteen months ago, but that he seemed a lot brighter of late. She saw him leave the house this morning at about nine fifteen. She hasn’t seen him return but then she has been out. An officer showed her Yately’s photograph but she claims she hasn’t seen him. She says that she doesn’t think Lisle has had any visitors since his wife died, except his daughter who comes every Tuesday evening. There’s a son who lives in Singapore.’

And Lisle hadn’t left for Singapore because he would have needed his passport. Horton wondered why the Salters didn’t bring their children to visit of a weekend or in the holidays. And why Rachel hadn’t mentioned her brother. Perhaps they simply weren’t a close-knit family.

To Uckfield, Horton said, ‘There’s no evidence to suggest Lisle has anything to do with Yately’s death. His phone could be broken and he could have forgotten his daughter comes on Tuesday, or perhaps he emailed her and she simply hasn’t read her messages.’

‘Well I’m not taking any chances. He’s slipped through our fingers once, he’s not going to do so again.’

Horton took Uckfield’s barbed comment in silence.

Uckfield addressed Norris. ‘We need Lisle’s movements from last Wednesday evening through to this morning. Check specifically if anyone saw him over the weekend. I’d like to know why he didn’t collect Yately’s notes before today.’ Norris made to leave when Uckfield forestalled him. ‘Before you do, let’s take a look in this garage. Bring the bolt cutters.’

The garage was a short distance down the road. As they headed for it Horton silently speculated on what they might discover. He saw no reason to suggest that Lisle could have taken his own life, unless he had killed Colin Yately and, filled with remorse, he’d decided he couldn’t live with the guilt. If that were so then would Lisle be slumped in his car with a hose pipe running from the exhaust, clutching his laptop computer?

The padlock was secure and there was no sign or smell of exhaust fumes. So it was unlikely they would find Lisle inside, but Horton’s heart quickened a little as the padlock snapped and he lifted the handle and pulled up the garage door. There was no car, and no sign of Lisle, just some old tools, ladders, a bicycle and nothing more.

Addressing Norris, Uckfield said, ‘Check the hospital in case Lisle’s had an accident. Seal off the house and keep a patrol car here tonight, Sergeant. If Lisle doesn’t show up we’ll put out an all-ports alert for him tomorrow morning. Circulate details of his car. Also check with the ferry companies that he hasn’t left the Island. And you’d better check if he caught any of the ferries over the weekend. Call me the moment you get anything. If he hasn’t shown by tomorrow morning, widen the area asking for any sightings of him and we’ll get a team into Yately’s neighbourhood, though God knows where I’m going to get the officers from,’ Uckfield added under his breath, before moving off and turning to Horton. ‘Sergeant Trueman will get a search warrant for the house and I’ll send DI Dennings over with DC Marsden to supervise it and handle things this end. Meanwhile, Trueman continues digging on Yately’s background and I’ll see if Wonder Boy will condescend to give me more officers.’

On the ferry Horton called Taylor for an update while Uckfield went up on deck to make his calls. Taylor reported that nothing surprising had been discovered in Yately’s flat: no blood, no bits of skin or bone. And his findings confirmed that Yately hadn’t been killed there. Horton hoped the analysis of Yately’s skin taken from the body by Dr Clayton might reveal something about where he had been killed, though he wasn’t overly optimistic.

Uckfield threw himself in the seat opposite Horton. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know the results of the Super’s call. He could see by Uckfield’s dark countenance that his plea for more staff had again fallen on deaf ears.

‘I work with what I’ve got, which doesn’t include you and CID,’ Uckfield growled. ‘Dean says you’re needed to make sure Russell Glenn’s visit here on his superyacht goes without a hitch. Who the bloody hell is he?’

‘A billionaire.’

‘Oh, well that’s all right then, knocks poor old postie Colin Yately into a cocked hat,’ Uckfield replied with bitter sarcasm.

Horton agreed with the big man’s sentiments. Protecting property and the wealthy always got top priority, and when they were combined there was no contest.

Gruffly, Uckfield added that Trueman had confirmed that the man they’d seen visiting Margaret Yately was Phillip Gunville. No form.

‘What’s his occupation?’ asked Horton.

‘No idea. Does it matter?’

‘Probably not.’

Horton stayed long enough at the station to check the messages on his desk for any that were urgent. None were, although others might disagree. He didn’t bother to check his emails to see what Bliss might have sent him. Collecting his jacket and helmet he headed for Oyster Quays for something to eat, telling himself that he could have gone somewhere else for food or back to his boat, knowing he was half hoping to bump into or see Avril Glenn on the deck of her floating palace.

He parked in a side street near the Isle of Wight ferry terminal and walked through to Oyster Quays, heading in the direction of an Indian restaurant he knew well, while turning over in his mind the facts of Colin Yately’s death, including the manner and timing of it, the dress he’d been wearing, and the significance of Lisle’s visit to Yately’s flat and his subsequent vanishing act. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a still, chilly evening. Would Lisle show up bewildered about the fuss over his dead friend or was he their brutal killer? Horton wondered, pausing to glance at the superyacht. It showed no signs of life. His eyes travelled beyond it across the water to the lights of Gosport