‘He said that if he survived the cancer, when he was released we could be together. In the meantime he asked me to do one thing for him. He didn’t make me promise and he said if I decided not to then he would understand. I was to find out when and where Amelia’s funeral would be held and put an announcement in the
She fell silent for a moment. Garvard had wormed his way into her affections and manipulated her. Even when she discovered the truth about him he knew that she would still see only the best in him.
‘I know I should have told the prison,’ she added. ‘But Leo said it might bring Amelia’s family back together following the rift caused by her son’s suicide, and I believed that.’
She would, after all Garvard was an expert con man. ‘You should have told us about this earlier.’
‘But I didn’t know that woman’s death had anything to do with Amelia Willard. You showed me her photograph but you never mentioned she had been at Amelia’s funeral.’
No, they’d been too focused on Daryl Woodley.
‘Besides I didn’t even know if the announcement had been read, let alone acted upon.’
But Garvard had taken that chance. Sharon might not have read the newspaper or seen the announcement and even if she had she might not have cared. But Garvard was a risk-taker and one more might pay off. Even if it didn’t he wasn’t going to be around to find out, and he wasn’t going to lose by it. He’d played the odds and it had paid off.
‘Did you have anything to do with Woodley leaving this hospital?’
‘No! I never saw him.’
‘Did someone tell you to give Woodley a message from Leo Garvard to say that he wasn’t safe here and that someone would meet him outside?’
But Fiona was shaking her head vigorously. ‘No. I only placed the announcement.’
He eyed her carefully. Had she taken Woodley to the marshes and left him there, believing someone was going to pick him up, because he couldn’t see her deliberately abandoning him and leaving him to die. No, he didn’t think so. But someone did.
Horton told her they needed a statement and she promised that she’d go to the station right away. He had no reason to doubt that.
Outside he stood under the shelter of the canopy as people dashed to and from the car park in the pelting rain and the thunder crashed around them. He thought briefly of the festival-goers on the Isle of Wight and the fact that DI Dennings might get a soaking, which brought a smile to his lips. It faded long before Trueman answered the phone.
‘The Super is interviewing Kenneth Loman now with Agent Eames. He made no protest when we asked him to come in.’
Horton relayed his interview with Fiona Wright and said that she was on her way to the station. ‘Ask Marsden to take her statement.’
‘I’ll get someone to check out the announcement in the
‘And I doubt she would have expected to stay with her sister. She could have arranged to stay with the man she spent the afternoon with and not necessarily on a boat now that we know she came by car. It could have been at his flat or house. He hasn’t come forward because he doesn’t want to be involved in her death or is scared he’ll be suspected of killing her.’
‘He still could have done.’
‘Unless Loman confesses. Does Foxbury’s alibi for Tuesday afternoon and evening check out?’
‘Yes.’
So they could rule him out. Horton rang off. He should return to the station but he felt too restless for that. If Kenneth Loman was busy confessing to the murders of Sharon Piper and Gregory Harlow then that would be it: case solved, except for Woodley’s death, and that had to be either one of his so-called associates or someone Garvard had sent. But if Loman wasn’t their killer then who was? This man she’d eaten a meal with and had sex with? She wouldn’t have picked up any old stranger, unless it was someone she had met on the ferry on the way over and had arranged to see him, and that was possible. But in that case he couldn’t be her killer but if it was someone she had once known and who’d been fond of her, who she’d previously had an affair with. . Several thoughts jarred in Horton’s mind. But how had this man known she was returning for her aunt’s funeral? The answer was the same he’d reached earlier: Woodley.
He had to go back to the attack on Woodley. Why had Woodley been at the Lord Horatio pub near the waterfront if the message from Garvard was for Kenneth Loman who lived in the north of the city and close to Woodley’s own patch? There were two answers to that question: either Woodley had been told to relay the message to two people, or he’d met Loman on the Hard. Loman could have been there because he’d gone fishing with a friend, or he wanted to be close to where his daughter had worked, the Historic Dockyard. It was tenuous to say the least but as Horton dashed through the rain to his Harley he knew he wouldn’t find the answers here and he wouldn’t find them at the station.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled up outside the tattoo parlour on the Hard and surveyed the area just as he’d done on Thursday, again taking in the taxi rank, the cafe, the road leading to the railway station and the small ferry which crossed the narrow harbour to the town of Gosport beyond. Then there was the coffee stall, the Net Fishermen’s Association Hut, the tourist centre and the Historic Dockyard where Ellie Loman and Rawly Willard had worked. His eyes travelled back to the coffee stall. He read the sign above it and remembered where Eames had bought their lunch at the festival: Coastline Coffee. And here was another connection between Ellie Loman, Rawly Willard and Gregory Harlow. Was it possible?
Eagerly, on foot, he hurried towards the stall oblivious of the heavy rain sweeping in off the harbour. Two of four of the small plastic tables and chairs under the huge awning were taken up by tourists huddled over maps. Horton took his place in the queue behind two tourists and impatiently waited while they ordered burger and chips with their cappuccinos. When his turn came he ordered an americano to go and asked the middle-aged dark-haired lady serving him how long she’d worked there.
‘A lifetime, love,’ she said smiling. ‘And I’m still not appreciated.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ he said returning her smile. Now for the questions and he hoped some answers that linked in with the theory he had formed. ‘Did you work with Gregory Harlow?’
‘You know him?’ She glanced at him over her shoulder while making his coffee. Her heavy black eyebrows arched in surprise, and there was a pucker of concern on her furrowed forehead.
Horton nodded and brought out his warrant card. As she placed the coffee in front of him she called out, ‘Lisa, take over. I’ve just got to have a word with this gentleman.’
Although he’d hoped for cooperation he hadn’t expected it so quickly and readily. His excitement mounted because he could see that she had something to get off her chest and he hoped it was what he wanted to hear.
A blonde woman in her early twenties appeared from the back of the stall wiping her hands on a black-and- white-striped apron and slipped into the older woman’s place. Horton stepped around to the back and stood under the rear awning out of the rain, facing the grey choppy sea of the harbour which he could see through the plastic window. The thunder had stopped but the rain was heavier than ever.
‘I heard that Greg was dead,’ the woman, who introduced herself as Iris, said with a sad expression. ‘Was it suicide?’
‘We’re treating his death as suspicious.’
She looked concerned and troubled. ‘You mean someone killed him?’
