Horton said, 'There wasn't a moon last night but the mulberry is on Sinah Sands. Does this MO sound like anything you've come across before, Barney?'

  Cantelli rubbed a hand across his eyes. 'Not that I can recall.'

  'Check it out and also check out Johnson's known associates. See who has been convicted or suspected of house robberies involving antiques or art. Have a word with the specialist investigations unit. They might come up with a couple of names.'

  Horton finished the remains of his sandwich and crossed to the large, freely perspiring man in the far corner of the incident room. 'Anything from Langley's bank statements yet, Walters?'

  'There's a fair bit of money in her bank and building society accounts. That's as far as I've got.'

  'Is there any evidence she owns a boat? Payments to a marina company, the harbour master or a marine mortgage,' Horton explained to Walters' blank stare.

  'Not that I can see, just the usual bills.'

  'Telephone records?'

  'I've given them to Peters.' Walters jerked his head in the direction of a young officer, with an intense expression, and auburn hair, who didn't look much older than nineteen.

  'You'd have thought I'd handed him the crown jewels.'

  'That's what I like, Walters, enthusiasm. See if some of it can rub off on you.'

  He left Walters grumbling, which was nothing new, splashed his face with cold water and found Somerfield in the CID office huddled over a desk reading through some papers.

  'Johnson claims this was his first antiques robbery,' Kate Somerfield said, as

  Horton perched on the edge of the desk opposite her.

  'You believe him?'

  'No.'

  'Has he said anything worth listening to?' Horton asked in exasperation.

  Somerfield's answer was in her expression. 'There were no fingerprints on the holdall or on the boat that matched Johnson's. I guess he kept his gloves on. There are other fingerprints on the boat. I'll see if I can get a match, though I expect they're the owner's. He's a Mr James Martin. He telephoned in half an hour ago to report that his house had been broken into, and I asked him if he had a boat.'

  Horton raised his eyebrows. This just wasn't Mickey Johnson's style. So who was pulling his strings? It had to be someone who knew that Mr Martin kept a boat at Town Camber; a fellow boat owner or a neighbour? Perhaps someone who worked with Martin?

  'What does this James Martin do for a living?'

  'He's retired.'

  Bang went that theory, though there were still the other two to explore. 'Do any of the other robbery victims own boats?'

  'It's not in the reports. I'll check.'

  'If they do find out where they keep them.' It was a possible lead.

  'Martin and his wife have only just got back from London,' Somerfield continued, 'They went to a show last night and stayed up in town. The fingerprint bureau are sending someone to Martin's house. I'm just on my way there to interview him.'

  Horton let her go, with instructions to keep him informed. Then he grabbed his helmet and his leather jacket from his office and headed for the mortuary where he found Edney pacing the corridor. He was pale and anxious. Horton didn't blame him for that.

  'Can we get this over with, Inspector? I've a meeting to attend,' Edney said tetchily.

  Horton ignored this. 'I must warn you that you may find this disturbing. She'd been out in the sea air for some time.'

  Edney gulped. 'The sea? But I thought she'd been killed in her apartment.'

  Horton hadn't said and Edney had assumed. He could see Edney's mind racing with this new information.

  'Surely she couldn't have gone sailing last night after... after work?' Edney continued.

  Horton was convinced he had been about to say something else but had quickly substituted the word 'work.' Why? Did Edney know her movements?

  'You know she sails?'

  Edney nodded. 'She talked about it occasionally.'

  'Does she have a boat?'

  'I don't know.' Then he asked hesitantly. 'Where was she found, Inspector?'

  Horton didn't see any reason not to tell him, as it would soon be made public knowledge. 'On the mulberry in Langstone Harbour.'

  Edney's face registered surprise. 'My God!' he breathed.

  'Are you ready, sir?'

  Edney set his shoulders and nodded.

  Tom, the mortuary attendant, respectably clad in a white coat instead of the mortuary garb and minus the whistling rendition of a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, pushed back the door to a small room, which was used for identification purposes, and Horton gently ushered in Edney.

  The thin man tensed, drawing a sharp breath. Tom pulled back the sheet covering the recumbent corpse just far enough to ensure that Edney didn't see the gaping scars where he'd inserted the knife in the forehead and the chest. Horton watched Edney's eyes flick to the dead woman. The blood drained from his face. His body swayed, and Horton put his hands out instinctively to catch him, but at the last minute Edney pulled himself together.

  'That's her. It's Jessica Langley,' he said faintly.

  Outside, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his narrow forehead. He was still trembling.

  'Would you like to sit down for a while? Can I get you a drink?' Horton volunteered.

  Edney shook his head. 'No. I must get back. I have asked all the staff, with no exceptions, to be in the staff room.' His voice faltered and he fell heavily on to the seat. Horton nodded at Tom who fetched a plastic beaker of water.

  Edney grasped it with both hands and drank it down in one go. After a moment he said, 'I'm sorry, Inspector, you must think me very weak. I couldn't quite believe she was dead until I saw ...How did she die?'

  'We're still trying to establish that. We'd appreciate all the co-operation you can give us, Mr Edney.'

  'Of course.'

  'I'd like to be present when you tell the staff.'

  Edney's head came up and Horton could see some of the old hostility and suspicion re-emerging. 'You can't think that any of us could be involved in murder?' he cried.

  'We need to find out all we can about Ms Langley's personal and professional life in order to find her killer.'

  Edney lost what little colour he had regained.

  'I understand that Ms Langley only joined the school at Easter,' Horton continued. 'Was her appointment a popular one?'

  'The board of governors and the local education authority thought so.'

  Horton picked up on a slight nuance of tone. 'But you didn't.'

  'I didn't say that,' Edney replied, stiffly.

  No, you didn't have to, Horton thought, it's written all over your face and embedded in your voice and attitude. Horton waited. His patience was rewarded when Edney eventually said, 'I admit I didn't like her.'

  Horton sat down beside him. 'Why not?'

  Edney sucked in his breath, pondered a moment, and then exhaled. Clearly his feelings had been pent up inside him for months and Horton's question unleashed a torrent of vitriol. 'She was a callous, vindictive, evil woman.'

  'To anyone in particular?' Horton asked, hiding his surprise at the vehemence of Edney's feelings.

  'No.'

  Horton didn't believe him. He was protecting someone. Maybe it was Edney himself who had been on the end of Langley's sharp tongue.

  'How did you get on with her?'

  'She needed me,' Edney replied evasively and with bitterness. 'She was an impatient woman. She couldn't be bothered with drawing up the timetable, or seeing to all the staff problems, and the day-to-day running of the school. That is what I am good at.'

  Horton recollected the state of Langley's office and the pile of unanswered e-mail printouts and memos spilling from her in-tray.

  Edney continued, 'She was an ideas person and though some of her ideas were good, many of them simply caused more problems than they solved, which of course I then had to deal with. I was for ever running round smoothing over things and dealing with the people she upset. '

  'And the board wanted an ideas person.'

  'Apparently so,' he answered with disparagement.

  'Did you apply for the position?'

  'Yes. And I have an excellent track record.' A spark flickered in Edney's eyes and his colour heightened. 'Who do you think managed to raise all that money to build the new hall and drama suite? Me. And what kind of reward do I get for that? Nothing.'

  'Why didn't you apply for a headship elsewhere?'

  'Why should I? That was and is my school. I've been there twenty years.'

  Yes, thought Horton, and was that enough of a motive to kill for?

  'You see, Inspector, I don't seek self-publicity. My job is running a school and ensuring that the pupils are given the best education within my powers. Clearly, that wasn't enough for the governors.'

  Horton left a silence to allow Edney to calm down. 'What will happen to the school now?'

  'You mean who will take over the headship?'

  Horton nodded.

  'The board of governors and a representative from the local education authority will decide that tonight when they meet.'

  'But you're expecting to be appointed.'

  'Yes.'

  Horton watched Edney climb into the waiting police car. He certainly had a strong motive for killing Langley. He hated her and she had pipped him to the promotion post. Could Edney handle a boat? Did he have a boat? Horton didn't even know where he lived yet. But somehow he couldn't see Edney stuffing money wrapped in honey inside Langley's knickers. And he couldn't imagine him dumping her on the mulberry in the middle of the harbour on a cold, wet and windy night. But it didn't do to discount him, not yet. Horton had met less likely murderers in his time with imaginations so wild behind a meek outward manner that they made Dr Jekyll's Mr Hyde look normal.

  He called Uckfield to tell him they had a positive ID. Uckfield said the press conference would go ahead at three forty-five, just after Edney had informed the staff. Uckfield and the chief executive of the local education authority were already ensconced in Uckfield's office at the police station, and Marsden was with them. The PR lady was organizing the media and would usher them all into one of the conference rooms in half an hour's time.

  Next Horton called Cantelli.

  'Any joy with matching the MO or Johnson's associates?'

  'No, but I haven't finished checking yet.'

  He caught a hint of weariness in Cantelli's voice. 'Hand it over to someone else; call Small and Babcock, Langley's solicitors. Find out who her beneficiaries are. Edney's given us a positive ID. Then meet me at the school in about twenty minutes.'

  Horton glanced at his watch. Mention of solicitors had reminded him that the clock was ticking away to his appointment with Catherine. He toyed with the idea of calling her to change their meeting and then dismissed it. It would only confirm to her how unreliable he was and therefore give her further ammunition for a divorce, and for preventing him from seeing Emma.

  He wanted to be at the school when Edney made the announcement to the staff to see the reactions to the news that their head teacher had been murdered. Before that though he had time to have a quick word with Dr Clayton about the findings of her autopsy. Something, just possibly, might have emerged.

  Seven

  Horton was irritated to find she wasn't alone. Gaye's visitor swivelled round in her seat and gave him a perfunctory smile, which he returned, noting that her short greying hair was unkempt and her oval face etched with fatigue. He put her about mid-fifties, but she could have been younger. Her maroon suit was crumpled and he noticed that the pale blue blouse underneath the jacket needed an iron. Gaye furnished an introduction.

  'This is Dr Woodford; she's Jessica Langley's GP.'

  Horton covered his surprise. His annoyance quickly evaporated. This could be helpful. Would Dr Woodford reveal something about Langley's medical history that would give him a lead? He sincerely hoped so. He wasn't about to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

  He shook her hand – it wasn't as firm as he had expected – and eased himself on to the seat next to her, and in front of Gaye's cluttered desk.

  Dr Woodford said, 'I came to see Gaye about another patient of mine who died last night. There was nothing unexpected in his death. He had a severe heart condition. He shouldn't have needed a post-mortem but he also had asbestosis and that does require one. I promised his widow that I would make sure everything was done...properly. I know it will be, but a promise is a promise. I'm sorry, Gaye. No aspersions on you.'

  'None taken. Relatives are naturally anxious about post-mortems.'

  Dr Woodford addressed Horton. 'I could have saved the person who identified Ms Langley the time and distress if I'd known. Who did you get?'

  'Her deputy head. It seems that Ms Langley didn't have any living relatives.'

  'I didn't know. She registered with my practice in Canal Walk in May probably because it's the closest to her school. I gave her a medical, as we do all new patients. I saw her a couple of times after that. Nothing serious, just the usual women's things. She was very fit.'

  'I can agree with that, she was in very good condition,' Gaye said.

  'What was your impression of her, Dr Woodford?' Horton asked.

  She considered this, then said, 'Lively, dedicated, intelligent.'

  After only a couple of visits, Horton couldn't expect anything more revealing. So nothing there for him, he thought with a twinge of disappointment.

  'When was the last time you saw her?'

  'About a month ago. I remember her talking about the school, or rather her staff. She was having difficulty with one or two of them. I recall her joking about it raising her blood pressure.'

  Horton's interest quickened. 'Anyone in particular?' He saw Dr Woodford hesitate and hastened to reassure her. 'It might have nothing to do with her death, but any information you can give me could help me to find her killer.'

  'Of course, I understand.' Dr Woodford looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing, 'She believed that her deputy head teacher and her secretary were having an affair and that she would have to take steps to remove one of them. They were both in critical positions of trust and she said it was hard enough trying to turn the school around, without them plotting and scheming behind her back.'

  Horton recalled the secretary, Janet Downton, and how her manner towards Tom Edney had softened when she had addressed him. It was clear that neither of them liked Jessica Langley, but there was big step between not liking someone and killing them. It was, however, an additional nugget of information and an interesting one that told against Tom Edney, and edged him a step closer to becoming a suspect. But Horton hadn't forgotten about Eric Morville and that note.

  'I'd like access to her medical records, doctor. Just routine,' he added, when she looked alarmed.

  'I don't mean to be difficult, Inspector. I'll do all I can to help catch her killer, but I do need a warrant before I can release them.'

  He nodded acquiescence. She rose.

  'I must get back. I've got a mountain of paperwork to do before surgery starts. Have you any idea who could have done such a terrible thing? Sorry, that was a silly question; you wouldn't tell me even if you had.' She smiled and Horton saw the traces of an attractive woman who had let herself go over the years through pressure of work and dedication to her duty as a doctor.

  'I'll tell you what I can, when I can.' It wasn't much of a promise, and she knew it, but she smiled again before she left.

  Gaye said, 'She was exhausted, and then to walk in here and find another of her patients on the slab... I'm glad I don't have her job. Dealing with dead bodies is much more straightforward; they can't argue back or dispute your diagnosis.'

  'Is that why you became a pathologist?'

  'That and my father.' She swivelled a photograph on her desk so that Horton found himself looking at a lean man in his late fifties with intelligent green eyes and a broad smile. 'He's retired now but he was a Home Office pathologist. Dr Samuel Ryedon. Ah, I see you've heard of him.' She smiled.

  'Who hasn't in the police service? I had no idea you were related to a living legend.'

  'I like to keep it quiet, except for the photograph that is, and nobody really notices that.'

  Horton frowned puzzled. 'Why the Dr Clayton?'

  'The name you mean? I was married. I see I've startled you again, Inspector. It didn't last long. You wanted to know about Langley.' She sat forward. Horton hadn't failed to note the abrupt change of conversation. Obviously Gaye wasn't keen to discuss her marriage. Horton completely understood that. 'Jessica Langley's skull was fractured. The shape of the wound, and the fact that I found splinters lodged in the tissue, tell me she was hit with a heavy, flattish wooden implement—'

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25