regular occurrence. But then, he reprimanded himself, the call could be genuine, just as that first call might have been. Perhaps Hazleton had seen Yately’s killer last Wednesday night and that might have been Arthur Lisle in his boat. If so, that meant Yately had been killed somewhere along that coastline. He thought of Yately’s notes on the chines, caves and coves.
Hazleton had telephoned at twenty-one thirty-five. There had been no further call from him and he hadn’t left a message on Horton’s mobile phone, despite the number being on the card he’d given him, which was surprising. Horton dialled Hazleton’s number but there was no answer. He left a message asking Hazleton to ring him on his mobile number, which he relayed again. Hanging up he wondered why Hazleton hadn’t been on the line several times since his original call, unless he’d gone higher up, which from his knowledge of Hazleton was possible. He’d probably complained to Bliss, and if he had then she’d be bursting into his office any moment. He swivelled to look out of his window. Her car wasn’t there though, which meant she might be attending a Project Neptune meeting. Hopefully that would keep her occupied for the morning. Uckfield and Dennings’ cars were both in the car park.
There was a brief knock on his door and a flustered-looking Cantelli entered. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Cantelli quickly apologized. ‘Molly’s been sick all night and Charlotte’s dead on her feet having been up with the poor little mite. I had to get the kids off to school. You’d have thought Ellen would have helped but she’s going through a “it’s not cool to be seen with your siblings” phase. Marie and Sophie got themselves off but Joe was playing me up.’
‘It’s OK.’ Horton briefed Cantelli about the call from Hazleton. ‘Although I think he’s fabricating these lights there’s a small part of me that wonders if his first sighting could have something to do with Colin Yately’s death. I’ve been thinking about what you said, Barney, about the Greek goddess, Queen of the Sea.’
Cantelli raised his eyebrows. ‘Amphitrite.’
‘Yeah, and that’s what Uckfield would think of me if I told him, that I’d cracked up. But Yately’s notes mention the chines, caves and coves of the Island. Could he have uncovered a smuggling operation where Hazleton saw that first light at sea and been killed because if it?’ Horton sat forward. ‘You said that perhaps Yately liked dressing up, we know he didn’t indulge in his flat because there weren’t any women’s clothes kept there, so he could have kept a stash of them in a hiding place, which he visited on his walks where he could indulge his passion in secret. He went there Wednesday night and surprised the smugglers.’
‘Having been in this job for more years than I could shake a stick at nothing would surprise me.’
‘I’m going to pay Hazleton a visit and see if I can find out exactly where he saw this light on Wednesday night and last night. And I want to look around the area from the sea. It’s OK,’ Horton added hastily at Cantelli’s horrified look, ‘I’ll get the marine unit to take me over, you needn’t come. Don’t want both Molly and you throwing up.’
Cantelli looked relieved and smiled his gratitude.
‘Call Elkins and ask him to meet me at the ferry port in ten minutes and ask him if they’ve had any reports of this light Hazleton claims to have seen last night.’
Horton hesitated over telling Cantelli about his thoughts on Russell Glenn and the meeting between Mike Danby and Harriet Lee. He would, but when they had more time to discuss it, because Cantelli was the only person he could confide in.
Horton reached for his phone and rang Trueman.
‘There’s still no sign of Arthur Lisle,’ Trueman said in answer to Horton’s enquiry. ‘And he’s not been in touch with his son or daughter. There’s been no reported sighting of his car, but we’re still waiting to check if he travelled to the mainland either by car ferry or as a foot passenger. We’re treating him as a possible suspect, but we’re not telling the press or his family that. The search warrant for the house should be with us later today, and I’ve applied for access to Lisle’s landline and mobile phone calls. I’m still waiting for access to Yately’s calls.’
Horton briefly contemplated telling Trueman his theory about Yately disturbing smugglers before deciding not to for now. He wanted to talk to Hazleton first. He said, ‘Any sightings of Yately on Wednesday or Thursday?’
‘No. As soon as the search warrant comes through, Dennings is going over and Lisle’s boat will be removed for forensic examination and the team will also go into the garage. I’m hoping to get a report from the fashion expert on the dress later today. I’m also checking on Arthur Lisle’s background. Do you want to know what I find?’
‘I’m not on the case.’
‘I’ll let you know.’
Trueman rang off. Horton reached for his sailing jacket and crossed to Cantelli in the CID office.
‘Elkins says they’ve no reports of anything suspicious at sea last night.’
‘If Bliss asks where I am tell her I’m following up another enquiry of Hazleton’s, which could have something to do with Project Neptune. That should keep her quiet for two minutes. Meanwhile, Barney, see what you can get on Victor Hazleton’s background.’
The rain had stopped but the sky threatened more and the wind was stiffening. It wouldn’t be the most pleasant of crossings but he’d been at sea in worse, and he hoped it would stay clear long enough for him to view the area where Hazleton had seen the light.
As he walked the short ten minute journey to the port he again considered his theory about Yately stumbling on smugglers who had killed him. Clearly Lisle and Yately were acquainted, so what if Lisle also indulged in the same interests as Yately — cross-dressing, although there was no evidence to support that. Perhaps he too kept a stash of his late wife’s clothes, or any women’s clothes, at the same place as Yately. For all Horton knew both men could attend cross-dressing conventions, and perhaps that was where Lisle had been all weekend. Lisle, with his computer and access to the Internet, could have discovered where a convention was being held. Or perhaps that was where Yately had been intending going on to after his dinner engagement with his daughter, leaving Lisle the keys to his flat. But that didn’t explain why Lisle hadn’t visited it until Tuesday.
He called Cantelli. ‘See if you can find details of any cross-dressing conventions. Yeah, I know it sounds weird but indulge me.’
Horton turned into the subway that ran under the motorway, his mind racing with possibilities that didn’t quite add up. Hannah Yately had said her father seemed happier than he had for a long time. If he was doing more than cross-dressing with Lisle, then had Lisle killed him, taken his keys, gone on to the convention and returned on Tuesday to check that nothing incriminating had been left in Yately’s apartment? The notes might have given a reference to the location where both men indulged their shared passion, but he was back to where he’d started; there was nothing illegal about it. And why couldn’t both men have done whatever they wanted to at Lisle’s house where there was no one to disturb them?
Despite hitting a brick wall with his theories Horton wasn’t going to give up on them yet, or the idea that Hazleton had seen something suspicious and that Yately could have stumbled on a smuggling operation.
The police launch was waiting for him on the quayside and soon they were passing the superyacht on their way out of the harbour. There was no sign of anyone on the decks. On the way across a rolling and bucking Solent that would have had poor Cantelli green and spewing up over the side, Horton asked Elkins for a chart and a map of the Island and went below with the sergeant to study it.
‘This is where Victor Hazleton lives.’ Horton pointed to an area just below St Lawrence to the left of Sir Richard’s Cove, and beyond that Woody Bay. ‘A small craft could have entered one of the bays as Hazleton himself said.’ And was that where Yately had his hideaway? ‘How far are they from Ventnor?’
‘About three miles.’
Certainly not far then for a man who liked walking, but would Yately have walked there in the dark? And even if he had reached there before sunset, which was possible given that he’d telephoned his daughter at six o’clock on Wednesday evening, would he have planned to walk home in the dark? Perhaps he knew the route well and had a powerful torch so that it wasn’t a problem for him. And perhaps the only time he felt safe to cross-dress was at night. But again, thought Horton, why not do so in his apartment? Yately had lived alone; he rarely had visitors, as far as they knew. His daughter didn’t visit him, and even if she did, Yately could have hidden the women’s clothes. So why not indulge his passion in the comfort of his own home? Because it wasn’t enough to excite him. And the same could apply to Lisle. Perhaps they needed to be in the fresh air and risk being seen or discovered by someone.
Horton considered this but the more he thought about this theory the more absurd it sounded, even though he knew that performing sex in public places excited some people, just as flashers got their jollies by doing it in places where they would risk being caught or seen. He was glad though he’d said nothing to Uckfield. Another thought also worried him, one he’d already expressed, if Yately had been a cross-dresser then why not go the whole hog and wear the underwear?
