‘When in 1978?’
‘December. He left them in October 1981. He was out of the UK until 1985 when he resurfaced as the owner of the Enderby hotel chain and started on his road to riches. Walters says he’s left you some notes and some photographs he printed off the Internet on your desk. Do you want me to carry on looking into his background tomorrow?’
‘No. Sorry, Barney, but you’re coming with me to the Island to talk to Lisle and Hazleton’s former employer. Uckfield’s orders.’
Cantelli groaned. ‘Knew I should have joined the Birmingham force.’
‘The good news is the weather forecast says it’s going to be a fine calm day.’ Horton had no idea if it was but no need to tell Cantelli that.
‘I’ve heard that before,’ Cantelli said with justifiable scepticism. ‘Think I’d better stock up on seasickness pills.’
Horton rang off and stayed on deck as the ferry slipped into the harbour. Lights blazed from the cabins of the superyacht. According to those dates it was possible that Glenn had known Jennifer before joining Carnival Cruises. Horton wondered where Glenn had been living until December 1978, and in addition which ports he’d sailed into while working on the tankers. It could have been Portsmouth if the tankers had been small; otherwise it was far more likely to have been Southampton or the oil refinery there. That didn’t rule out the possibility that Glenn had met Jennifer; Southampton was only twenty-five miles away. Despite his earlier vows to concentrate on the present and the future, he knew he couldn’t let go, particularly in light of the unexpected phone call he’d received from Robin Stanley. What could Adrian Stanley want to tell him? It was pointless speculating. He’d find out soon enough. The announcement came over the Tannoy for all car owners to return to their vehicles as the ship was about to dock.
Dropping Horton at the station, Uckfield told him and his team to be available for a briefing tomorrow morning, and half an hour later Horton was being shown into a small hospital room by a nurse. He apologized for the lateness of his visit. But the nurse wasn’t put out by it. ‘When you’ve only just come on duty this is early,’ she said smiling down with concern on Stanley’s recumbent figure. ‘He’s very troubled and restless, though you wouldn’t think it now. And that’s not helping his recovery. He’s a little difficult to understand, he’s been severely affected by the stroke, but if you listen hard enough and tune yourself in, you’ll get the gist of what he’s saying. If you sit beside him for a while I’m sure he’ll soon realize you’re here.’
Horton sat and stared at the sleeping man. His heart was pumping fast with anticipation of what Stanley might hopefully tell him. Was this the breakthrough he needed? he thought, with a mixture of dread and excitement. Or would it lead to yet another dead end? The sounds of the hospital intruded into the quiet room: the continually bleeping buzzer, a trolley clanging, people murmuring. How long would he have to wait?
His eyes scanned the room taking in a couple of get-well cards and someone, Robin Stanley, Horton assumed, had brought in a few photographs. He’d sounded a kind man on the phone, but voices as well as looks could be deceptive, as he knew only too well. Horton studied the photographs. Propped up on the bedside cabinet was one of a young man and woman with two fair-haired children. That must be Robin and his wife and kids, he thought, picking it up. Nice-looking family. It made him think of Emma, the only family he had left, and he hastily pushed away such thoughts before more nightmares of being isolated from her returned to haunt his waking hours.
Replacing the silver-framed photograph he turned to the one beside it of Adrian Stanley and his late wife. Stanley was in police uniform and his slim, elegant wife wore a mauve dress and jacket with some discreet but impressive jewellery — a necklace and brooch — a big mauve hat, gloves, handbag and shoes. But it was the medal that Stanley was holding that drew Horton’s attention. It was the Queen’s Gallantry Medal and the picture must have been taken at the Palace when Stanley had received it from the Queen. What a proud moment for him and his family.
He turned to study the lean grey-haired man lying in the bed and willed him to wake up. He looked much smaller and older than Horton remembered. Then, as though sensing his gaze, Stanley opened his eyes. Horton’s heart quickened. Stanley seemed almost at once to register who was with him, and Horton thought he saw a hint of relief in the tormented eyes.
‘You were asking for me,’ Horton began gently, easing himself on to the chair beside the bed and praying no one would disturb them.
Stanley moved his head slightly.
‘You wanted to tell me something about Jennifer?’
Again Stanley nodded. Horton’s chest contracted and the sounds of the hospital faded into the far distance.
‘You remembered something?’
Stanley closed his eyes. OK, it was the wrong question. Horton tried again. ‘There was something you didn’t tell me.’
Stanley opened his eyes and again gave that slight movement of his head.
Horton caught his breath. It was as he’d surmised. His body ached with impatience but harassing Stanley wasn’t going to get him the information any faster.
‘About
But Stanley’s eyes remained shut. Horton thought he’d slipped back into sleep. Shit, this was torture.
He tried again. ‘About
Still nothing. Horton took a breath. What the hell was Stanley trying to tell him? His brain scrambled to think. Stanley moved his head a little to his left but Horton could see it was an effort. His lips were trying to move but the sound was struggling to emerge. Horton tried to be patient.
‘You discovered something and kept silent about it.’
Stanley’s eyes opened. Horton thought he saw fear in them. ‘You found my mother’s diaries.’
Stanley closed his eyes.
‘Photographs? A photograph?’ Still the eyes remained closed. Frustration gnawed at Horton. He took a deep breath and willed patience. ‘What did you discover, Adrian? Something dangerous? Dangerous to me and my mother?’
Stanley opened his eyes and his lips moved. Horton’s heart quickened. This time some sound emerged from Stanley’s frozen body and Horton desperately tried to tune himself in to it. It sounded like ‘ouch’. But that didn’t make sense. Puzzled, he said, ‘I’d be hurt if you told what you knew?’
Again Stanley made a noise that sounded like ‘ouch’ and another word that sounded like ‘dead’. Horton stiffened. ‘Someone would be killed if you told what you knew or thought you knew?’
Stanley’s body seemed to slump, although he never moved and his eyes closed. He looked greyer than when Horton had entered and his breathing was more laboured. Horton felt alarmed and anxious. He should call the nurse, but he didn’t. He could see that the strain of trying to communicate through a petrified body had taken its toll on the elderly man.
Frustrated, Horton resigned himself to getting nothing more for now. He laid a hand on Stanley’s arm. ‘It’s OK. I’ll come back later when you’re rested. Don’t worry.’
Stanley opened eyes that were full of pain. Again he tried to move his head but only succeeded in moving his eyes to his left. Horton frowned as that same sound came feebly from Stanley’s mouth: ‘ooch’. Then he slumped, clearly exhausted.
Disappointed, Horton relayed to the nurse what had happened and left instructions for anything that Mr Stanley said to be written down, but he wasn’t completely confident the message would be passed on to the other nurses who came on duty later. He telephoned Robin Stanley and after telling him what had happened he asked him to do the same thing if his father tried to speak again.
‘Do you know why he is so anxious to communicate with you, Inspector?’
Horton wasn’t going to tell him the truth, but he gave a version of it. ‘I think he’s trying to tell me something about an old case he was on. Did he ever talk about his cases?’
‘Sometimes.’
Horton’s pulse picked up a beat. ‘Did he mention anything about a missing woman some time back in the late 1970s?’
‘No. I don’t recall that. He might have made some notes though. In fact, I teased him recently about writing
