Breaker

for their retention. With the cooperation of the Hampshire Constabulary, he was remanded on police bail to Twenty-three Old Street, Lymington, the house of Anthony Bridges, and was ordered to present himself at the Lymington police station daily so that a regular check could be kept on his movements.

On the advice of a solicitor, he had made a detailed statement about his relationship with Kate Sumner and his movements over the weekend of 9-10 August, although it added little to what he had already told the police. He explained the fingerprint evidence and the presence of Hannah's shoes on Crazy Daze in the following manner:

They came on board in March when I had the boat lifted out of the water to clean and repaint the hull.

Crazy Daze was in Berthon's yard, sitting on a wooden cradle, and when Kate realized I couldn't get away from her because I had to finish the painting, she kept coming to the yard and hanging around, making a nuisance of herself and irritating me. In the end, just to get rid of her, I agreed to let her and Hannah climb the ladder and look at the inside while I stayed below. I told them to take their shoes off and leave them in the cockpit. When the time came for them to climb down again, Kate decided Hannah couldn't manage the ladder so lowered her down to me instead. I strapped Hannah into her buggy, but I didn't notice whether or not she was wearing shoes. To be honest I never look at her much. She gives me the creeps. She never says anything, just stares at me as if I'm not there. Some time later I found some shoes in the cockpit with H. Sumner written on the strap. Even if they were too small to be the ones Hannah was wearing that day, I have no other explanation for their presence there.

Although I knew where the Sumners lived, I did not return Hannah's shoes because I was sure that Kate had left them there deliberately. I did not like Kate Sumner, and I did not want to be alone with her in her house because I knew she had a serious crush on me which I did not reciprocate. She was very peculiar, and her constant pestering worried me. I can only describe her behavior as harassment. She used to hang around by the yacht club waiting for me to come ashore in my dinghy. Most of the time she just stood and watched me, but sometimes she'd deliberately bump into me and rub her breasts against my arm. The mistake I made was to visit Langton Cottage with her husband shortly after she introduced me to him in the street at the end of last year. I believe that was the beginning of her infatuation. At no time was I inclined to respond to her advances.

Some time later, at the end of April, I think, I was moored up to the Berthon fueling pontoon, waiting for the dockie to come and operate the pump, when Kate and Hannah walked down 'C' pontoon toward me. Kate said she hadn't seen me for a while but had spotted Crazy Daze and felt like a chat. She and Hannah came on board without invitation, which annoyed me. I suggested Kate go into the aft cabin to retrieve Hannah's shoes from the port shelf. I knew there were some clothes belonging to other women in the cabin, and I thought it would be a good thing if Kate saw them. I hoped it would make her realize that I wasn't interested in her. She left soon afterward, and when I went into the cabin, I found she'd taken off Hannah's nappy, which was dirty, and had ground the mess into the bedclothes. She had also left the shoes behind again. I believe both acts were done deliberately to show me that she was angry about the women's underclothes in the cabin.

I became seriously concerned about Kate Sumner's harassment of me when she found out where I parked my car and took to setting off the alarm to get Tony Bridges and his neighbors riled with me. I have no proof it was Kate who was doing it, although I am sure it must have been because I kept finding feces smeared on the driver's- side handle. I did not tell the police about my suspicions because I was afraid of becoming even more involved with the Sumner family. Instead I sought out William Sumner sometime in June and showed him photographs of myself in a gay magazine because I wanted him to tell his wife I was gay. I realize this must seem odd after I had shown Kate evidence that I entertain girlfriends on board Crazy Daze, but I was becoming desperate. Some of the photographs were quite explicit, and William was shocked by them. I don't know what he told his wife, but to my relief, she stopped harassing me almost immediately.

I have seen her in the street maybe five times since June but did not speak to her until the morning of Saturday, 9 August, when I realized I couldn't avoid her. She was outside Tesco's, and we said good morning to each other. She told me she was looking for some sandals for Hannah, and I said I was in a hurry to get off because I was sailing to Poole for the weekend. That was the extent of our conversation. I did not see her again. I admit that I was very aggrieved by her persecution of me, and developed a strong dislike for her, but I have no idea how she came to drown in the sea off the Dorset coast.

A long interview with Tony Bridges produced a corroborative statement. As DS Campbell had predicted, Bridges was known to the Lymington police as a cannabis user, but they took a tolerant view of it. 'Once in a while his neighbors complain when he has a party in there, but it's alcohol that makes them raucous, not cannabis, and even the blue-rinse brigade are finally beginning to realize that.' Rather more surprisingly, he was also a respected chemistry teacher at one of the local schools. 'What Tony does in the privacy of his home is his own affair,' said his headmaster. 'As far as I'm concerned, the policing of my colleagues' morals outside school hours isn't part of my job description. If it were, I would probably lose some of my better staff. Tony's an inspirational teacher who enthuses children in a difficult subject. I have a lot of time for him.'

I've known Steven Harding for eighteen years. We attended the same primary and secondary schools and have been friends ever since. He sleeps in my house when his boat's out of commission or during the winter when it's too cold for him to stay on board. I used to know his parents quite well before they moved to Cornwall in 1991, but I have not seen them since. Steve sailed down to Falmouth two summers ago, but I don't believe he's made any other visits to Cornwall. He divides his life between his flat in London and his boat in Lymington.

He told me on more than one occasion this year that he was having problems with a woman called Kate Sumner, who was stalking him. He described her and her child as weird, and said they scared him. His car alarm kept going off, and he told me he thought it was Kate Sumner who was activating it and asked me if he should report it to the police. It was a pretty odd story, so I wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. Then he pointed out the feces on the car-door handle and told me how Kate Sumner had wiped her child's nappy on his sheets. I told him that if he brought the police into it it would get worse rather than better and suggested he find somewhere else to park his car. As far as I know, that sorted the problem.

I have never spoken to Kate or Hannah Sumner. Steve pointed them out to me once in the middle of Lymington then dragged me around a corner so we wouldn't have to speak to them. His reluctance was genuine. I believe he found her seriously intimidating. I met William Sumner once in a pub at the beginning of this year. He was drinking alone and invited Steve and me to join him. He knew Steve already because they'd been introduced to each other by Kate after Steve had helped her with her shopping. I left after about half an hour, but Steve told me later that he went back to William's house to continue a discussion they were having about sailing. He said William used to race a Contessa and was interesting to talk to.

Steve's a good-looking bloke and has an active sex life. He has at least two girls on the go at the same time because he's not interested in settling down. He's obsessed with sailing and told me once that he could never get serious about anyone who didn't sail. He's not the kiss-and-tell type, and as I never listen to names, I've no idea who he's got on the go at the moment. When he's not acting, he can always get regular work as a photographic model. Mostly he models clothes, but he's done a few sessions for pornographic magazines. He needs money to fund the flat in London and keep Crazy Daze afloat, and that kind of work pays well. He's not ashamed of the photographs, but I've never known him to show them around. I've no idea where he stores them.

I saw Steve on the evening of Friday, 8 August. He dropped in to tell me he was off to Poole the next day and