was different about Ellie or her movements before that Sunday, call me, any time.’
Loman took Horton’s card. ‘Don’t you think I’ve been doing that every minute of every day for all these years?’
Yes, he knew. For years he’d pushed all thoughts of his mother’s disappearance to the back of his mind, but in the last eleven months he’d been trying to recall her mood, movements and visitors before that November day when she disappeared. It never went away. Suddenly a distant and vague memory, like an out of focus image, played at the ragged edges of his mind. He tried to identify it but couldn’t.
Irritated he pushed it away, called Trueman and relayed the gist of the interview with Loman. ‘Find out if anyone asked her doctor at the time if she was taking any form of contraceptive. Loman’s given his consent for us to access his daughter’s medical records. I’d also like to know if anyone asked the Lomans if Ellie took a towel with her that Sunday. Two bikinis and no towel suggests she was going somewhere where they were supplied and not to the beach or a swimming pool, at least not a public one. She might have been going to a private house with a pool or out on a boat for the day, which could have returned to Foxbury’s yard. There could have been a violent quarrel and the boat owner killed her and threw her body in the sea. Or perhaps someone was waiting for her return on the quayside or he saw her unexpectedly, they quarrelled and he killed her, or she slipped and struck her head and he pushed her body into the sea. Whoever she was going out with though she kept secret from her parents, which means they wouldn’t have approved of him.’
‘Probably married.’
‘We’ll need to check the members at the sailing club in 2001. Get the list from Richard Bolton. Ask Eames to get the names of any of Foxbury’s employees for 2001, though I suspect they weren’t on the official payroll. Foxbury told us he used to own a sailing yacht so see if she can find out if he had a boat in 2001 and what kind, also if he had a house with a swimming pool. Get Eames to re-interview him and to tell him about Ellie Loman. I’d like to know his reaction. Somerfield is getting details of the boat owned by Kenneth Loman at the time of his daughter’s disappearance. I don’t think he killed his daughter but find out just how thoroughly he was questioned. He could have discovered she’d gone out with one of his fishing chums, a work colleague or friend, a married man he disapproved of. Where did he work?’
‘Ran his own business, a small engineering company.’
‘Find out what happened to it. What have you got on Rawly Willard?’
‘He claimed he was out walking on the day Ellie disappeared, on the coastal path around Chichester Harbour. He didn’t own a car so he caught the train to Chichester and walked along the canal path to the marina and on to Itchenor, but he didn’t have a train ticket to verify that and nobody at Portsmouth Station where he caught the train remembered seeing him. His clothes, including those he was wearing that day, were sent to forensic but there was nothing found on them to connect him to Ellie Loman. His room was also searched. He lived with his parents, Amelia and Edgar Willard, in Southsea. He was questioned twice but stuck to his story. He committed suicide on 6 January 2002. His body was found hanging from a tree in Stansted Forest.’
‘That probably explains Patricia Harlow’s hostility towards us.’ Horton recalled her frosty manner.
‘But not why she and her husband didn’t tell you about Ellie Loman.’
‘Why should they? We weren’t investigating that and neither of them could have known where Ellie’s body was.’
‘Unless they were involved in her death.’
‘And we’ve nothing to say they were, or have we?’
‘No.’
‘And the only connection between them is the appearance of Salacia at the crematorium the same time as their aunt’s funeral.’ And that tiny reaction from Gregory Harlow, he thought. He consulted his watch. With a bit of luck he might make the twelve thirty sailing. ‘I’m going over to the Island to question Harlow. Apply for a search warrant for the late Amelia Willard’s house; I don’t think Patricia Harlow will let us in without one. It’s probably too late to find anything that links back to Rawly Willard and Ellie Loman but you never know. And see if you can trace any of Ellie’s former work colleagues.’
He rang off and made his way to the Isle of Wight ferry, keen to see what Gregory Harlow’s reaction would be to the news they’d found Ellie Loman.
FOURTEEN
‘He’s not here. I haven’t seen him since last night,’ Ross Skelton, Harlow’s boss, bellowed above the music. The festival was in full swing. The noise was giving Horton a headache, which made him feel old. Maybe he was getting old, or perhaps it was lack of sleep and too much thinking and he’d done a considerable amount of the latter on the ferry crossing without getting any further forward with the case. Now he was annoyed to discover that Harlow was missing, something he hadn’t expected, and Skelton was clearly livid. ‘He’s left me short-handed which is why I’m here, sorting out his mess, and not where I should be, which is running my business. It’s a bloody nightmare. I’ve got contracts to fulfil. If he shows up now he’s fired.’
They were in the small tented area at the back of the main Coastline Cool tent, which was packed. In addition to the music coming from a stage in one of the fields soul music was booming in Horton’s ears from the tent.
‘Is his van here?’ bellowed Horton.
‘No, and he’s not answering his phone either,’ roared Skelton.
‘When did you last see him?’
‘When he was talking to you and that good-looking copper. But my staff say he was here last night until about ten thirty and then he disappeared just when it started getting busy. No one’s seen him since, including my staff at my three coffee stalls here.’
Did Patricia Harlow know that her husband wasn’t where he was supposed to be?
Skelton continued, ‘I’ve been to Harlow’s caravan, he sleeps, eats and shits on site at a big gig like this, but the bastard isn’t there and he doesn’t look as though he slept there last night either, which Haseen confirms.’
‘Haseen?’
‘His caravan-mate, assistant event-catering manager.’
Several thoughts were running through Horton’s mind. Had Harlow killed Salacia? Had he taken fright after their questioning and gone on the run? Did he know that Ellie Loman’s remains were at the boatyard and think it only a matter of time before they discovered them? But how did that fit with Woodley having a photograph of Salacia in his cell? Then an idea occurred to him. There was a way.
He shouted, ‘Does your company have any dealings with the prison here?’
‘What’s that got to do with Greg?’ Skelton yelled back, surprised. Horton said nothing, forcing Skelton to add, ‘Yeah, we deal with the prison. We deliver catering supplies to them. I’ve got three divisions: Coastline Coffee Stalls, Coastline Outside Catering and Coastline Catering Supplies.’
‘And has Gregory Harlow delivered to the prison?’
‘He was working on the supplies side of the business until I promoted him to event-catering manager nine months ago, wish I bloody hadn’t now.’
This was sounding more promising by the minute. ‘How long has he worked for you?’
‘Ten years. And he’s been a damn good employee, until now.’
Until they were getting close to the truth about what happened on the first of July 2001. ‘I’d like to talk to Haseen.’
‘He’s working.’
‘It’s important.’
Skelton rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. ‘Might as well lose more money. I’ll fetch him.’
Horton followed Skelton into the crowded, overheated and noisy main tent and surveyed the scantily clad women in flimsy summer dresses or shorts that barely covered their arses and tops that certainly didn’t cover all of their tits. The men of all ages were just as meagrely clothed, most wearing shorts and without shirts. The tent was dimly lit and stank of sweat, perfume and beer. Skelton’s staff were behind a long counter serving drinks, mainly alcoholic judging by the mood in the tent, although Horton did see some of the occupants, squatting on the floor,
