Footsteps on the Shore (16 page)

Seaton said, ‘We’re looking for Mr Edward Shawford, but he doesn’t seem to be in.’

‘He’s probably on his boat.’

Horton hadn’t known that Shawford had one. Catherine hadn’t mentioned it. Though why should she? They’d hardly conversed since she’d thrown him out. Had the fat slob taken Catherine and Emma out on it today? The vision of Emma on Shawford’s boat hurt him badly. His daughter should be with
him
, on
his
boat. He didn’t want Emma to go away to school, but for the first time he considered that it might not be a bad thing if it meant getting her away from Shawford.

He brought his attention back to the woman in front of him as she said with a smile, ‘It’s a motorboat. He only bought it a few weeks ago. And he’s never stopped talking about it since.’

Horton said, ‘I don’t suppose you know where he keeps it.’

‘I do. And I could probably tell you the colour, make and size of the engine,
if
I’d paid enough attention. It’s at Horsea Marina.’

Horton thanked her and they headed for the marina. Seaton remained silent. Horton was grateful for that. It gave him time to prepare for the fact that he might find Catherine with the slimy git. He’d cope with that. But what he knew he couldn’t cope with was seeing Emma there with Shawford, laughing with him, smiling at him . . . just being with him. It wasn’t just Shawford, because Horton knew he’d feel the same about his daughter being with any man that wasn’t her father. He didn’t know what he would do if Emma was there, but the spring of rage inside him warned him it would be something drastic and highly damaging.

When they were approaching the marina he thought he should tell Seaton something about the situation. He didn’t really want to, but Shawford might bring up the fact he was having a relationship with Horton’s soon-to-be ex-wife. And if Catherine were there, then Seaton would quickly cotton on.

He gave a potted version of their break-up, leaving Seaton to fill in the rest himself. Like a good cop, Seaton listened expressionless and without comment. He was too ambitious to remark on it. Horton knew Seaton was single but didn’t know if he was in a relationship. In fact he knew nothing at all about the young PC. And now was not the time to discover it, he thought as they turned into the marina.

While Seaton enquired at the marina office for the location of Shawford’s boat, Horton stepped out of the car and walked down to the shore. He stared across the harbour at the ancient remains of Portchester Castle, trying to get his emotions under the iron control that he’d had to use as a child and teenager to shield himself from being hurt by others’ cruelty and carelessness, whether deliberate or accidental. If Emma was with Shawford then he had to make sure that she didn’t get upset or confused by any display of anger from him. He’d have to pretend that he didn’t mind. It wouldn’t be the first time and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

He surveyed the scene before him as a distraction from dwelling too much on what he’d lost. Just beyond the castle, but completely hidden from view, was Willow Bank and its slipway where
Shorena
had been moored. It would have been easy enough to slip out into the harbour from there. His eyes swivelled to the right of the castle, taking in the masts of the yachts and dinghies at the Castle Sailing Club and beyond it the large boat sheds and more yacht masts. Also visible was a red and black funnel, which looked strangely out of place among the sailing boats.

He swung his gaze southwards but Seaton hailed him. A couple of minutes later they drew up in front of one of the pontoons. Their timing was perfect because as Horton climbed out, Shawford punched the release button on the bridgehead and stepped off the pontoon. And, as Horton noted with great relief, he was alone.

Shawford looked up, did a double-take before glancing back at his boat and then, scowling, snarled, ‘What do you want?’

‘A word.’

‘I’ll give you two. Bugger off.’ Shawford pressed the zapper on his key ring and the BMW clunked open.

Seaton quickly said, ‘We need you to help us with our enquiries, sir.’

Shawford started with surprise and eyed them nervously. ‘And they are?’ he said, heaving his sailing bag into the boot.

His attempt at indifference didn’t quite ring true. Horton answered, ‘Luke Felton’s disappearance.’

‘Didn’t know he had.’

He was lying, of course. Horton said, ‘Strange that, seeing as he works for the same company as you.’

‘Doesn’t mean to say we’re bosom pals.’

‘But you gave him a lift on Tuesday evening at about six thirty.’

Shawford looked up and Horton saw surprise in the light grey eyes, and along with it something else, which looked to him like panic. Shawford turned away and pulled open the driver’s door. ‘So?’

Horton stepped closer and placed a firm hand on the open car door, forcing Shawford to press his body back against the car. Disguising his disgust behind the veneer of amiability that as a police officer he’d perfected over the years, Horton said, ‘We’ll get through this a lot quicker if you cooperate, sir.’ He stressed the last word, making it sound like a sneer, before adding in the same light manner, ‘You see, you might be the last person to have seen Luke Felton alive.’

Shawford’s head jerked back in surprise. ‘You mean he’s dead?’

‘Possibly. Now are you going to answer our questions or do I have to ask you to come to the station?’

Shawford licked his full lips nervously. ‘I saw him beside the road on Tuesday evening. I pulled over and asked if he’d like a lift.’

‘That was very chivalrous of you.’

‘I can do without your sarcasm,’ flashed Shawford.

‘And I can do without your lies,’ snapped Horton. ‘Why did you give him a lift?’

Shawford took a breath but didn’t speak. Horton could see his mind racing, obviously deciding exactly what and how much to tell them. The truth would be nice but Horton doubted he’d get it. He remained silent, keeping his eyes on Shawford, knowing it was only a matter of time and nerve before he cracked, but Seaton’s clear voice broke the heavy silence.

‘Where did you take Luke?’

Horton could have slapped the PC. He hadn’t yet learnt that silence was a powerful weapon. But he would. Horton flashed him an angry glance. Seaton flinched. Shawford visibly relaxed.

‘Portchester Castle.’

It wasn’t the answer Horton had been expecting, or was it? If it was the truth, then it strengthened the theory that Felton knew about the Trotmans and had gone there to get money. It could also mean Felton had returned there on Thursday night or Friday morning and killed Venetia Trotman.

‘Why there?’ Horton asked sharply.

‘He said it was where he wanted to go. He didn’t give a reason and I didn’t ask him.’

‘And you just happened to be going that way,’ taunted Horton.

Shawford’s eyes narrowed, clearly with hatred. ‘It’s the route I take home from the factory,’ he said through clenched teeth.

‘Diverting down to the castle off the main road
isn’t
on your route.’

‘It’s a few minutes diversion, no more.’

Clearly Shawford wasn’t going to budge on that. There had to be a reason why he’d offered Felton a lift, and gone out of his way to drop him off at Portchester Castle. The Shawfords of this world didn’t do anything unless there was something in it for them.

Seaton said, ‘What did you talk about, sir?’

‘Can’t remember. This and that. How he was settling in, that kind of thing.’

Horton felt like saying ‘bollocks’. Shawford was lying, but he was also growing more confident and Horton wondered why.

‘Did Luke speak about Natalie Raymonds?’ he asked.

‘Who?’

That was so obviously a lie that even Shawford realized they’d know it and shifted uneasily, but he didn’t make the mistake of elaborating on it, or trying to back-pedal. This time Seaton didn’t break the silence. He’d learnt his lesson. And Shawford kept his nerve, finally forcing Horton to say, ‘She’s the woman Luke Felton murdered.’

Shawford fiddled with his keys. ‘He didn’t mention her.’

Horton wondered at Shawford’s evasiveness. He said, ‘How did you feel about the company employing a killer?’

‘It’s nothing to do with me. I’m sales not personnel. Now if there’s—’

‘Where exactly did you drop Felton?’

‘In the car park opposite the castle.’

‘Were there any other cars there?’

‘I didn’t really notice.’

Horton thought that at least was the truth. ‘Anybody hanging around or walking past the castle?’

‘I wasn’t paying attention.’

And if Luke was meeting someone there, then he must have arrived early, because he could have had no way of knowing that he was going to be offered a lift.

‘What did Luke do next?’

Shawford eyed him, puzzled. ‘He got out. I turned the car round and left.’

Horton eyed him steadily, searching for the lie. It sounded and looked like the truth, but an experienced salesman like Shawford was practised in the art of lying. And Horton didn’t trust or believe him one iota. He also wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

‘Been out on your new boat?’

The question took Shawford by surprise. The fear was back in his eyes. He eyed Horton warily before snapping, ‘Yes.’

‘Where have you been?’

‘That’s none of your business.’ He made to climb into the car, but Horton stalled him.

‘Everything’s my business when I’m looking for a missing prisoner.’

‘Well, you won’t find him on my boat.’

Horton raised his eyebrows and glanced at Seaton. ‘Now that’s an idea. We hadn’t thought of that. Maybe you didn’t drop him off at Portchester Castle but drove him here. You invited him on board, then killed him and pushed him overboard in the Solent.’

‘You’re mad!’ Shawford paled.

‘Am I?’ Horton began to wonder whether a theory he’d posed in order to frighten Shawford might actually hold water. What motive Shawford could have for killing Felton, Horton had no idea; Seaton though was eyeing him admiringly, as though he’d solved the crime of the decade in a flash of inspiration. But Shawford was an experienced sailor and could have used his boat to get from Horsea Marina to Willow Bank quite easily, Horton thought. But why would Shawford hitch up with Felton, and why kill Venetia Trotman? However much he hated him, Horton couldn’t see Shawford as a killer.

Alarmed, Shawford said, ‘I dropped Luke off at Portchester Castle and went home. I got in at just after seven. You can ask my neighbour. I saw her in the lobby.’

‘You might have left Felton, dead, on your boat and returned later to get rid of the body.’

‘Christ! You’re insane. You’re trying to fit me up, just because I’m in a relationship with Catherine. I want a lawyer.’

‘Why? You’ve not been charged,’ Horton replied, feigning bewilderment. OK, so he was rather enjoying this.

‘I know you bastards. You’ll twist everything I say.’

‘Had much dealing with the law then?’

‘Sod off, Horton.’

Horton smiled, which seemed to send Shawford into a purple fit. His fists clenched, but with supreme effort he managed to control himself. Pity. Horton would have relished being thumped and then charging the man.

‘We’ll need to search your boat.’

‘Then you’ll need a warrant.’

‘So you have got something to hide,’ Horton taunted, ignoring the pleading look Seaton was throwing him. Good job Cantelli wasn’t here, Horton thought. He’d be having kittens.

‘You could plant something.’

‘Tch, tch, you obviously don’t hold the police in very high regard.’ Horton leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘But then I think you’re a useless piece of shit.’

Shawford flushed. ‘How dare you . . . Did you hear that?’

Seaton looked confused. ‘Sorry, sir, must be the noise of that helicopter going over.’

‘What bloody . . . Oh, I see, sticking together. Well, I don’t have to put up with your crap any longer.’ He climbed in the car and this time Horton didn’t prevent him, but he leaned down and tapped on the window. Shawford looked in two minds whether to lower it, but finally did so with ill grace.

Pleasantly Horton said, ‘We’ll need you to come to the station and make a statement about giving Luke Felton a lift.’

‘What, now?’ Shawford snatched a glance at his watch.

Why, you got a date with Catherine?
‘Yes, now. We’ll follow you.’

‘You can try,’ said Shawford, gunning the engine.

Watching the car speed away Seaton said, ‘Do you really think he killed Felton?’

Horton considered it for a moment. ‘No, but I want a warrant to search his boat, and we’ll take forensic samples from it.’ If only to annoy Shawford, thought Horton. Aloud he said, ‘You can check his story tomorrow with his neighbour, and see if anyone around Portchester Castle remembers seeing Felton there on Tuesday evening. Meanwhile, if you can give up more of your Sunday, you can take Shawford’s statement.’

TWELVE

S
hawford stuck to his story but Horton was convinced there was something he wasn’t telling them. He had again denied them access to his boat and insisted on them getting a warrant, so Horton would, if only to spite the man – because he couldn’t really see him kidnapping and killing Luke Felton, or being in league with him to rob and kill Venetia Trotman. But Horton had an edgy feeling about Shawford. OK, so his intense dislike of the slob was probably clouding his judgement, but his copper’s instinct told him there was something not right.

From his office window he watched Shawford cross the car park to his vehicle while mentally running over their encounter at Horsea Marina. Shawford had looked shocked at seeing them but there had also been that nervous glance back at the boat, the insistence that they get a warrant before going on board, and the defensive response when Horton had asked him where he’d been. Of course there might be nothing more in Shawford’s reaction than hatred for him, but as Shawford pulled out of the car park, Horton found himself reaching for his helmet and jacket.