Stanley’s eyes travelling to this picture, or was that just his overactive imagination?
With his heart thumping against his ribcage, Horton turned the frame over and lifted off the back, but with searing disappointment found nothing; no hidden notes, no comments on the rear of the photograph, not even a date. Then why had Stanley hidden it? Did it have anything to do with the armed robbery that Stanley had helped to thwart? Had one of the criminals in that robbery been involved with Jennifer or known something about her disappearance? Horton knew he’d have to check. Although eager to do so, it would have to wait because his phone rang. Seeing it was WPC Skinner he stepped out of the hospital room and answered it as he headed from the ward. She’d not only got the author’s address but had spoken to him, and Ian Williams said he’d be very pleased to talk to Inspector Horton or any member of the police if it would help with their investigation.
‘He said that Colin Yately had visited him,’ Skinner relayed excitedly.
‘When?’
‘In October, February and three weeks ago. Yately wanted some help with some research he was doing for a book.’
It was as Horton had suspected but it could still mean nothing. He told Skinner that he’d be over to talk to Mr Williams in a few hours. He hurried back to the station to find Walters and Cantelli in CID. Cantelli he could trust, and after calling him into his office he told him what had happened at the social services office and at the hospital. Cantelli looked increasingly concerned but made no comment. Horton asked him to research the armed robbery that Adrian Stanley had thwarted, which had earned him his gallantry medal, and to find out everything he could about it and the whereabouts of the perpetrators.
Cantelli nodded solemnly. He didn’t ask if what he was doing was wise because it wouldn’t make any difference, he’d still do it. Instead, the sergeant said, ‘Why wouldn’t Stanley tell you this?’
‘Perhaps he thought it would reflect badly on her or badly on him because he hadn’t done his job properly.’ Horton ran a hand over his head. ‘I’ve got no idea, Barney, and it’s probably a waste of time, but that photograph means something and it has to be linked with that armed robbery.’
‘I’ll see what I can get. PC Johns has brought in the guest list for the charity reception on Glenn’s yacht tonight. It sounds a posh do. There are a lot of nobs on the list and one or two actors and footballers.’ Cantelli handed across the sheet of paper. Horton quickly scanned it finding his name at the bottom. There were no villains he knew. He asked Cantelli if he recognized any.
‘No, but I’ll get Walters to run a check on them. And you should know that Walters is moonlighting for Danby tonight. He’s just told me that he’s on security duty on Glenn’s yacht.’
‘Then God help us. Knowing Walters’ luck something’s bound to go wrong.’ And that reminded Horton about the blue van. He asked Cantelli to check with the Scientific Services department to see if the video unit had managed to enhance the registration number or anything else on the van to help give them some clue as to its owner. ‘Did Johns have any luck finding out if the RIB from Glenn’s yacht has been launched?’
‘It has. It was launched on Monday morning when Russell Glenn and Lloyd took it out for a trial. One of the engines wasn’t working properly so the mechanic was called in and it was given another test run on Tuesday.’
‘It wasn’t taken out at night?’
‘Not according to Johns, but he said he couldn’t push his luck by asking too many questions because Lloyd is as sharp as they come. As well as having muscles he’s also got brains, and he carries a lot of clout with the crew. Johns reckons it’s Lloyd and not Glenn who gives the orders to the skipper and second mate who then dole it out to the crew. Glenn spends a lot of time in his study.’
‘And Avril Glenn? What does Johns say about her?’
‘A real looker and lovely figure but then you know that already. She seems pleasant enough and friendly but not overly friendly. Johns says she seems to spend more of her time with “the bearded Vernon and that smooth bastard Keats than her husband”, I quote. And Danby deals direct with Lloyd.’ Cantelli hauled himself up. ‘I’ll see if Elkins has managed to pick up anything from Customs and the Border Agency.’
Horton headed for the major incident suite, making an effort to focus his thoughts on the investigation instead of mentally running through all the possible connections between Stanley’s armed robbery and his mother. Uckfield was in his office. First, Horton got an update from Trueman.
‘There’s not much, Andy. The fingerprints found on the telescope in Yately’s flat are too smeared and vague to match anyone’s, including Arthur Lisle’s. We’ve got a couple of smudged prints from Yately’s apartment, which don’t match his daughter or any of the residents. And there are some prints from Lisle’s house that don’t match with the personal items taken from there or his family and they don’t match with Hazleton’s or Yately’s. There have been a few reported sightings of Arthur Lisle on the Island, which Sergeant Norris and his team are checking out.’
Horton glanced across at Uckfield who was scowling at his computer. With a backward glance at a tired- looking Trueman, Horton swiftly crossed to the big man’s office, knocked briefly and entered.
‘I hope you’ve got something worthwhile to say, otherwise you can bugger off.’
The bags under Uckfield’s bloodshot eyes looked as though they should have been put out weeks ago and his craggy face was grey with fatigue. He waved Horton into the chair opposite.
‘That bastard Dean’s just waiting for me to cock up so that he can go running to head teacher to tell him what a useless prat I am. For Christ’s sake, why didn’t you seal off that flat and take the old man seriously?’
And I bet you’ve told Dean that it’s all down to me, thought Horton angrily. Well, Dean hadn’t come bellyaching around his door yet, and so far Bliss had failed to rub salt into his wounds; she was too preoccupied with her pet project and, Horton guessed, too wary to come down on him too hard in case DCS Sawyer was his new-found friend.
Ignoring Uckfield’s remark, Horton said, ‘I want to interview the author of a book on the history of the Isle of Wight coast that was in Lisle’s dining room.’
Uckfield rolled his eyes. ‘Can’t see where that’s going to get us.’
‘Neither can I at the moment,’ Horton retorted, ‘but Yately visited this author in October, February and three weeks ago, and as those notes have gone missing, along with Lisle and his laptop computer, and as Lisle apparently took the notes, it’s worth talking to the author. .’ Horton stalled. There was something on the edge of his mind, something he’d just said that was significant, but try as he might he couldn’t grasp what it was. Irritatingly it refused to come.
Uckfield exhaled noisily and threw himself back in his seat. ‘Might as well waste more time,’ he said airily. ‘Like checking out that archive file.’
‘Cheer up. Oliver Vernon, the antiques expert, might have something significant to say about Hazleton’s valuables which could give us a lead.’
Uckfield snorted. Horton beat a hasty retreat before the Super could voice his opinions about that, and before he could ask what Cantelli was working on.
An hour and a half later Horton was pulling up outside Hazleton’s house, where a patrol car was sitting on the driveway. He nodded at the officer outside and found the other officer with Oliver Vernon in the lounge.
‘I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ Vernon said brightly, shaking Horton’s hand.
‘That good, eh?’
‘I’d say,’ he enthused, crossing to the mantelpiece. ‘Take this.’ He pointed to a black wooden glass-fronted box on the mantelpiece that contained a thermometer and had a gold clock with roman numerals mounted above it. ‘It’s an antique French Empire clock, and is absolutely beautiful, not to mention in pristine condition.’ He touched it almost sensuously. ‘It was made around 1820 and its seconds dial and thermometer make it unique. For a collector it could fetch up to five thousand pounds, maybe more. And look at this pair of Famille Rose vases either side of it. Exquisite. May I?’
Horton nodded. Vernon lifted one of the small vases and handled it delicately while inspecting it. It was just over a foot high. Horton saw that it was decorated with Chinese characters in a fenced garden amidst rocks, blossoming trees and floral sprays.
‘This is amazing,’ Vernon breathed. ‘I can hardly believe it. Early twentieth century, Chinese. Could fetch anything up to forty thousand pounds at auction.’
Horton was surprised, though he shouldn’t have been, recalling what Trueman had said about Hazleton’s accounts.
With a flushed face, Vernon continued, ‘Can these antiques be traced back to previous owners?’
‘We haven’t found any paperwork for them.’
