Horton joined Cantelli in Dunsley's bedroom. 'Anything?'

  Cantelli shook his head. Horton heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Dunsley appeared.

  'What the hell are you doing here?' he exploded.

  Horton unfazed, said, 'We'd like to ask you some questions, Mr Dunsley. At the station.'

  'Why? I haven't done anything.' Suddenly Dunsley was on the defensive. Horton saw the faint telltale flush of nervousness on Dunsley's neck.

  'For a start there's wasting police time by reporting a phoney break-in, not to mention attempting to fraud the insurers.'

  Dunsley licked his lips and gave a hesitant smile. 'It was a joke.'

  'You have a peculiar sense of humour, Mr Dunsley. Shall we discuss it down at the station?'

  Horton gave an ushering movement, as Cantelli eased himself behind Dunsley.

  Dunsley said, 'You can't really be taking me in just for that!'

  'Shall we go?' Horton didn't leave Dunsley much choice.

  The stairs were narrow but Cantelli still managed to squeeze himself beside Dunsley, and put a restraining arm on the steward. Horton brought up the rear.

  'It's only a small matter of theft. The insurance company can afford it,' Dunsley said tetchily, after climbing into Cantelli's car. Horton got in beside him.

  So Dunsley was going to bluff it out. Or rather he was going to admit to the lesser crime of theft in the hope they'd not discover he was a murderer.

  At the station, Cantelli took Dunsley to an interview room, while Horton checked in with Sergeant Trueman.

  'Did you get Cyrus?'

  'He's in interview room three. Claims he hasn't done anything.'

  'Don't they all? We'll let him stew for a while. Let's see what his mate comes up with first.'

  Horton ran through the preliminaries with Dunsley. When he had finished Dunsley said, 'OK, so you've charged me and I admit faking the break-in. I'll make my statement and then can I go?'

  Horton left a silence that was just beginning to get uncomfortable when he spoke. 'Where were you between nine and midnight on Thursday night?' He looked up from the file he had been studying to see Dunsley's wary expression.

  'In the bar working and then in my flat.'

  'We have a witness who says you were out all evening.'

  'Who?' Dunsley declared cockily but Horton could smell a worried man.

  'Do you want me to repeat the question?' he asked in an icy tone.

  Dunsley pursued his lips together.

  After a moment Horton continued, 'I think you were with Neil Cyrus at the Sir Wilberforce Cutler School, helping yourself to building material.'

  Dunsley's eyes flickered minutely from side to side. His lips twitched but remained firmly shut. Horton went on in the same even tone, 'Did Jessica Langley discover you stealing and that's why you killed her?'

  'What?' Dunsley was suddenly alert. He shot out of his seat.

  Cantelli said, 'Sit down, Mr Dunsley.'

  'You must be mad.' Dunsley eyed each of them in turn. Silence greeted him. After a moment he sat. His body was twitching nervously and he'd begun to sweat.

  Horton said, 'What else can we think unless you start telling the truth?'

  'I didn't kill her.'

  'I think you did, Barry. She returned to the school when you and Neil were stealing the building material. She threatened to call the police. You hit her. Or perhaps it wasn't you, perhaps it was Neil.'

  'Neither of us killed her.' Dunsley looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

  Horton could see it wouldn't take long now to crack him and get to the truth. He left a silence into which dropped the sounds of the station beyond the closed door: a ringing telephone, raised voices, running feet. As he hoped, Dunsley obviously couldn't bear it.

  'I wasn't anywhere near that school. I swear it.'

  Horton laughed scornfully and was pleased to see Dunsley flush. 'Oh, come on, you can do better than that. At this moment Neil is probably telling one of my officers how you engineered a break-in at the Sir Wilberforce, and how you struck Jessica Langley—'

  'Neil's here?' Dunsley looked horrified. 'I didn't kill her. You have to believe me.'

  'Convince me,' and Horton needed convincing. If Dunsley wasn't their killer then it had to be Cyrus.

  Dunsley licked his lips. Hs eyes darted about the room. Horton waited. The ticking clock and the rain drumming against the darkened windows seemed abnormally loud to him. Cantelli sat casually back in his seat, yet Horton could sense his tension.

  Finally Dunsley exhaled and said, 'OK, so I was with Neil at the Sir Wilberforce Cutler School on Thursday night. He's got this builder friend who doesn't much care where he gets his materials from.'

  'And you supplied him. Is that when Langley returned to the school and saw you, so you had to kill her?'

  'She never came anywhere near us. I swear it,' Dunsley cried in exasperation.

  Horton contrived to look sceptical. Dunsley hurriedly continued. 'I met Neil at the school just after ten o'clock. We loaded the gear into Neil's van and delivered it to the builder.'

  'Name?' barked Horton, making Dunsley start.

  'Sam. I don't know his last name or his address. I'm telling the truth,' he appealed to Horton. 'He's Neil's contact. Ask him.'

  'We will. Go on.'

  'When we were unloading, I tripped and fell. I gashed my head on a bit of piping, there was blood everywhere so I had to leave Neil and drive to the hospital clutching my head with a bit of rag. I didn't get out of there until just after three in the morning.'

  'Which was why you were in the accident and emergency unit between midnight and three fifteen a.m.' Horton consulted the paperwork in front of him. An officer had checked with the hospital and Dunsley had been booked in at 12.15 a.m. and had left at 3.20 a.m. And although the times could put Dunsley in the clear of dumping Langley's body on the mulberry, he could still have killed her and left Neil Cyrus to take her body to Langstone Harbour. He put this to Dunsley, who vehemently denied it.

  Horton said, 'So, where were you between eight and ten p.m?'

  'Having a drink in the Three Crowns. You can ask the landlord, he served me.'

  They would, and Horton guessed there would be enough witnesses to confirm it. He studied Dunsley a moment longer and didn't much like what he saw: a weak, stupid and idle man who thought he was clever and above the law. Horton was sick of him and his type. He was also growing rather sick of this bloody case. This wasn't his killer after all and he doubted Cyrus was either. They were just a pair of stupid, greedy crooks. Horton felt frustration well up inside him, but he restrained it. It was just a matter of tying up the loose ends of the club break-in and the theft at the school, and he wanted it over with as quickly as possible so that he could get back to the real case in hand: Langley and Edney's murders.

  'When did the idea about the phoney break-in at the club come to you?' he asked, wishing fervently that Dunsley had been their man. Dunsley couldn't talk quickly enough, which only reinforced Horton's opinion of him.

  'I should have got back to the club by eleven thirty in time to cash up and lock up. But I was stuck in the hospital. So I called Doris and told her to lock up and leave the money in the till but the silly cow forgot to lock the back door. It gave me an idea. I thought I could make some extra money if I said there had been a break-in, what with being in the hospital with a cut head. I loaded the car with some booze, cigarettes and crisps and drove it to Neil's place.'

  'Time?' Horton snapped. He wanted out of here.

  'About four a.m. Had to wake him up. Neil didn't mind. He can always find someone to sell stuff on to if only to the kids. I went back to the club, cut my finger so that there would be blood on the ground, and reported the break-in.'

  'At four thirty a.m.' Horton's eyes flicked down to the report. 'And a unit responded at five a.m. You told them the break-in had happened just as you were about to lock up and you had been attacked and dazed, had gone to the hospital and hadn't thought to report it until you got back,' Horton read out.

  Dunsley nodded. 'That's right. You can check it with Neil. We didn't kill anyone. I swear it.'

  Horton scraped back his chair.

  'What happens now?' Dunsley asked nervously.

  'We talk to Cyrus, and we check out your story.' That would take the rest of the evening and night, and they would still be no nearer to catching this blasted killer.

  Horton adopted the same tactics with Cyrus, who was ready to hold his hands up for the break-in at the school in order to be cleared of committing murder.

  Later that night to Uckfield, Horton wearily said, 'The landlord of the Three Crowns has confirmed that Dunsley was in there drinking, and watching football on the big television screen, from seven until just before ten p.m. They each give the other as their alibi for after ten p.m., and Dr Clayton says that Langley was killed some time between nine and eleven p.m. Langley could have returned to the school after receiving that second telephone call and after ditching Ranson at eight p.m.' But Horton didn't really think so.

  'Could Cyrus be her lover?'

  'Not her type.' Still, Horton thought, there was no accounting for taste. Horton would hardly have said that Edward Shawford was Catherine's type. But he was almost sure that Cyrus couldn't be Langley's lover. 'Cyrus was on duty, alone, as assistant caretaker until ten p.m. He could have killed her between nine and ten p.m., but there's no motive and he denies it vehemently. He also says Langley never returned to the school. And if he did kill her how did he and Dunsley get the body on to a boat, which neither of them has, and take her to the mulberry? It doesn't add up. And both Cyrus and Dunsley have an alibi for Edney's death. They were at Fratton Park watching Pompey play Manchester United.'

  'Which means we've still got a killer out there. Back to square bloody one. Are you sure this architect didn't do it?'

  'His alibi checks out.'

  'So who the fuck is it?' Uckfield stomped across to the crime board and picked up a felt pen. Horton didn't blame him for being frustrated. 'We can cross off Dunsley, Cyrus and Ranson.' He struck the names through with a large cross. 'Tom Edney gets himself killed, so he's already gone. What about his wife? Could she have returned and killed Langley?'

  'I doubt it, and she couldn't have killed her husband, because she was with us at the time.' Horton stared at the board. 'There's still Eric Morville,' he pointed out. 'And that betting slip.'

  'Yes, and there's still those callers. Are we any nearer to finding out who they were?'

  'Marsden is waiting for the mobile phone company to get back to us. The second caller must be the person that Langley went to meet. It could be a lover who hasn't yet come forward, but there's nothing in her life, belongings or background to suggest one, and Ranson swears there wasn't anyone else. I'd also like to know who the first caller is and why she was so short with him or her.' Maybe tomorrow, he thought, those questions would be answered. They still hadn't found Langley's laptop or her mobile phone. 'Have Jessica Langley's medical records come in?'

  'There's nothing of any interest in them. No dark secrets: abortions or illegitimate babies. She was very healthy, hardly ever saw a doctor, except to get her prescription for the Pill and her regular cervical smear and that's it.'

  Horton hadn't really expected anything else. He left Uckfield stomping around the incident room grumbling and growling like a bear with a hangover, and returned to his office. He pushed open the window and let the wind tear in. It caught him in his chest and he leaned into it and let its chill damp edge cleanse him after the disappointment of yet another of his theories about Langley's killer being proved false.

  Two cases cleared off the books, the club break-in and the school theft, but there was another case outstanding: that of double murder. Who could those callers have been? Did they have anything to do with Langley's death? Why the devil was she killed and dumped on the mulberry and what did the Lear poem have to do with it? What was he missing for Christ sake? A hell of a lot it seemed. His head was throbbing, and he was tired.

  He closed the window, and turned back to his desk. Perhaps it would come to him if he tried to clear his mind of it for a while. Somerfield had put her latest report on the antiques thefts on his desk and he began to read through it. Damn Mickey Johnson, he should have cracked under questioning but he hadn't. Maybe if Horton had another go at him he'd get something, like the name of his accomplice – the boy seemed to have vanished into thin air – or who was masterminding these robberies, because Horton was damned sure Mickey or the boy wouldn't have the brains for it.

  He pulled out the file containing all of Somerfield's reports and read them through again for what seemed like the hundredth time. Somerfield had been thorough. Horton took out a blank piece of paper and drew up four columns, each headed with the name of a victim and then reading through the reports he picked out the key factors that Somerfield had discovered, methodically listing them down the columns. His door opened and Horton looked up to see Cantelli enter.

  'We've got the bloke who was receiving the stolen goods from Cyrus and Dunsley,' Cantelli said, easing himself into the seat opposite Horton with a yawn. 'What are you doing?'

  Horton told him. 'So far I can't find a blessed thing that the robbery victims have in common, except they all live in Old Portsmouth, near or around the Town Camber...' His words trailed off and he glanced down at the list of addresses and then at Cantelli. He'd been trying to puzzle out the antique thefts but the connection with Langley, which had occurred to him on the day he'd seen her flat when he and Cantelli had stood on the quayside at the Town Camber, returned to him only this time stronger. Was it possible? Was this the missing piece of the jigsaw? He felt a thrill of excitement that told him it could be. He said, 'Langley's death could be connected with these robberies.'

  'You mean our missing athletic youth?'

  'No.' He didn't think it could be him. But maybe he'd been on the right lines about the location. Feeling his excitement increase, he said, 'The stolen antiques haven't shown up anywhere in the local area and neither have they been picked up elsewhere in the UK, so I reckon they are being taken out of the country pretty quickly, and that could be by boat, kept in or moved to the Town Camber for the purpose. Johnson took the stolen goods to a boat. I know that particular boat belonged to the victim but that wasn't usual because none of the other victims are boat owners. And I don't believe Johnson did those other robberies. The haul was different on this last one.'

  Cantelli was still looking bemused. Horton continued, warming to his theme. 'What if Langley, either looking out from her apartment or going on to a friend or lover's boat in the Town Camber, saw our mastermind on one of the previous robberies, and was killed because of it?'

  'But why take her to the mulberry? Why not kill her in the Town Camber and throw her into the harbour?'

  Horton frowned. They had been over this ground before. But this time he knew he was on to something. He had to talk it through. It had to slot into place. He sat back in his chair and tapped his pencil against his mouth whilst thinking. Finally he said, 'We know that she was a strong-minded woman, so let's say she decided to blackmail him because he had something she wanted, though God alone knows what that was. Or perhaps she simply craved excitement. It would be in keeping with her character as we've been told it.'

  Cantelli nodded. Horton could see he was becoming convinced.

  Horton went on. 'Her car was found at Sparkes Yacht Harbour on Hayling Island. Her killer could have lured her there. He could have been the second caller agreeing to her blackmail demands, hence the word "great" that Ranson overheard her say. I know her accounts don't show she was receiving blackmail money, but perhaps she hadn't got that far. That meeting at Sparkes could have been the first.' Horton mentally juggled the information flooding into his brain. 'Which means she felt pretty confident he wouldn't kill her. She was a tough lady but not stupid. Why drive to Sparkes Yacht Harbour and meet her killer—?'

  'Because she knew him.' They said together.

  Horton continued with enthusiasm. 'Tom Edney was out that night drinking, which according to his wife, was unusual for him. Let's say he had a few drinks to give him courage to finally confront Langley over her treatment of him, but when he went to do so he saw her leaving her apartment and decided to follow her. He saw who she met at Sparkes and also recognized him, which meant he had to die. Our killer must be connected with the school which links in with the nursery rhyme about the mulberry.'

  'Why point us in that direction? Does he want to be caught?'

  Horton shrugged. 'I expect he's a clever Dick who believes that stupid old PC Plod can't possibly catch him. Think about our antiques mastermind, Barney,' Horton urged eagerly. 'He has keys to the victims' apartments, how does he get them?' Horton glanced down at the lists he had made and saw it staring out at him. 'They all have children. Which means...'

 

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