Footsteps on the Shore (25 page)

Coolly, Horton said, ‘Luke didn’t come here asking you for a sub, did he? In fact, he didn’t come here at all because he didn’t know where you were living. This address isn’t held on any directory of company directors. We’ve checked.’ Cantelli had done so before they’d left and he’d discovered that Ashley Felton had only bought this apartment in November.

Felton fidgeted nervously but said nothing.

Horton continued. ‘You contacted Luke and asked him to meet you at Portchester Castle on Tuesday evening.’

That got a reaction. Ashley’s head came up. ‘No!’

‘What did you do, Ashley, when he refused to help you? Did he threaten to tell your sister and brother-in-law about your drug addiction? Or perhaps he remembered that you were that other person with him on the coastal path when Natalie was murdered. And that you killed Natalie.’

‘No!’ Ashley sprang up. ‘I didn’t even know Natalie and I was in London when she was killed.’

At a sign from Horton, Cantelli put the photograph of Ronnie Rookley in front of Ashley. ‘Did you see or talk to this man?’ he asked.

Ashley rubbed a shaking hand across his eyes. He was perspiring heavily. It seemed to take him a while to focus on the picture in front of him but when he did he shook his head. ‘No. I went inside and asked someone where Luke’s room was. I knocked and hung about but there was no answer.’

Horton eyed him closely. Was he lying? Perhaps Rookley said he’d get Ashley drugs. Stabbing at the picture of Rookley, Horton said, ‘Did you arrange to meet this man in the cemetery on Friday morning where he said he’d give you something?’

‘No. I tell you I’ve never seen him.’ Horton studied him, forcing Ashley to add, ‘If I’d got something do you think I’d be in this bloody state?’

He had a point. ‘When did you start taking drugs?’ asked Horton.

Grudgingly Ashley replied, ‘About eighteen months ago at a party in London. Business was tough. It seemed to help me through, but now . . .’ He shrugged.

‘Did you take drugs in 1997?’

‘No.’

‘Did you know Natalie Raymonds?’ Horton asked again.

‘I told you. No. I wasn’t even in the country then. I was working on a project in Germany. You can check with my former employers.’

Horton wasn’t going to take it at face value. Ashley Felton clearly wasn’t a supplier, but maybe Natalie had been and had refused him more drugs. Would that have been enough for him to kill her and frame his brother? It was possible.

He said, ‘Who’s your London supplier?’ He didn’t expect an answer so he wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t get one. ‘We’ll need you to make a statement. And we’ll need to check your movements.’ Not only over the last week but also in 1997, Horton added to himself. They’d also get a warrant to search this flat and Felton’s boat. Ashley Felton could have taken his brother out on his yacht on Tuesday night, killed him and dumped his body in the sea. And he could be lying about not knowing or meeting Ronnie Rookley.

Cantelli slipped out to call a patrol car.

Horton said, ‘How did you know Luke was living at Crown House if you didn’t see or contact him?’

‘Matt Boynton told me.’

Of course. Horton recalled the first meeting with Boynton and Ms Attworth; she’d said that they’d contacted Luke’s brother and sister.

‘I didn’t kill Luke, Inspector,’ Ashley said wearily. ‘But I think he must be dead.’

‘Do your sister and brother-in-law think that?’

‘Olivia does, and I don’t think she much cares either. And Neil believes that Luke’s back to taking drugs and is on the streets somewhere, probably London.’

They watched him climb into the police car before returning to their own vehicle parked on the quay. Horton scanned the area but there was no sign of anyone on a motorbike. He didn’t dare to hope that he might have frightened his stalker away.

He said, ‘Ashley might not have been involved in Natalie’s murder, but he could have met Luke at Portchester Castle and asked him if he knew where he could get some drugs. And when Luke refused and threatened to tell his sister or the authorities about his brother’s addiction, Ashley gave him a lift back to his yacht in the Town Camber where he killed him and then disposed of the body. He then went to Crown House on Thursday, to meet Rookley, who told him to be in the cemetery on Friday morning where he’d sell him some drugs. Only Rookley thought he’d earn some extra money and said he’d inform on Ashley if he didn’t cough up. So Ashley killed him too.’

‘You think Ashley Felton could have attacked you at the locks?’

‘He’s about the correct build. You’d better contact the London drug squad when we get back, Barney. We’ll see if his DNA matches anything Taylor found at Lena Lockhart’s office. We’ll let him stew in a cell while we talk to Matt Boynton and Kelly Masters. He might feel more like talking after a couple of hours.’

‘If he’s not crawling up the wall by then. Good job Sonia Felton isn’t alive to see what’s become of her golden boy,’ Cantelli said sadly.

Horton agreed.

TWENTY

T
hey drew a blank with Boynton, who said he and Luke didn’t talk about the past but were more concerned with focusing on the present and the future. He claimed to know nothing about the tapes, though he did know that Luke had undergone hypnotherapy sessions as part of his drug treatment programme. ‘It’s on his prison file,’ Boynton had explained when asked how he knew. Of course, thought Horton, as they headed for Kempton’s and Kelly Masters. He wondered if Shawford would be there.

On his way he called the lab to see if they had anything from the search of Shawford’s boat and got a lecture on how they too needed sleep, were desperately short of manpower, were grossly overworked, and weren’t superhuman beings. Pity. A few of those would come in handy.

As they turned into Kempton’s, Horton noted that neither Shawford’s nor Catherine’s cars were in the car park. He wondered if Catherine had spoken to Shawford about the pornography. He couldn’t see her not doing so. Would she dump Shawford? He’d thought it highly likely after their encounter on Sunday. But would he get to keep his job? Horton didn’t know. He was relieved to see that his father-in-law’s car was also absent.

At reception, Cantelli asked for Kelly Masters. He got a wary look from the receptionist, but she rang through to the personnel officer and two minutes later Kelly teetered out on her high heels, huddled in a black coat with a thunderous expression on her fleshy face.

‘We’ll talk outside,’ she said crisply, brushing past them.

They followed her into the car park and beyond it to the main road, where she took a packet of cigarettes from her coat pocket and lit up.

Abruptly, Horton asked, ‘What did you and Luke discuss between the sheets? Oh come on, Kelly, we know you and he were at it.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘So I slept with him. That’s not a crime, though I can’t say it was a memorable experience.’

‘I expect he was out of practice,’ Cantelli muttered.

She flashed him a hostile look. Horton said, ‘And what did Luke tell you?’

‘I stopped listening after a while. It was boring stuff about prison.’

Cantelli said, ‘Did he mention anyone in particular? Any inmates, friends or anyone he was close to?’

‘No. Just how bad it was being locked up. Is that it? Because I’ve got to get back to work.’

‘We’ll walk back with you,’ Cantelli said politely. She didn’t look too happy about that and didn’t move.

Scowling she added, ‘He talked about prison then went to sleep.’

Horton said, ‘How often did you see him?’

‘Every day.’

‘You know what I mean, but I’ll rephrase it for you. How often did you sleep with him?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘It is when Luke Felton might be dead.’

She flashed him a surprised glance.

‘How often, Kelly?’ Horton asked more harshly.

‘Twice,’ she spat. ‘I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I thought he might be better second time around. He wasn’t.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’ she cried, exasperated.

‘He told you the same thing all over again?’ Horton said incredulously.

‘More or less. He said he wanted to put Natalie Raymonds’ killing behind him and move on. And that’s it, apart from what he muttered in his sleep, something about water and darkness and bailing.’

‘Bailing?’ Horton picked up eagerly. That was new. ‘As in bailing out?’

‘I don’t know. It might have been bailey. Now I’ve got work to do.’ She threw her cigarette down and ground it out viciously with the sole of her shoe.

This time they let her go. Turning to Cantelli, Horton said, ‘Are you thinking what I am?’

‘She could be mistaken. Or perhaps Luke Felton remembered Peter Bailey from the trial.’

Horton called Lena Lockhart on her mobile. After confirming she was safe and well, he asked her if Luke had mentioned anything about bailing or bailey. He could hear her thinking about this for a moment.

‘No, sorry. Is it important?’

Horton wasn’t sure. He let her go and rang Walters.

‘I showed one of the gravediggers Rookley’s ugly mugshot but he didn’t recognize him,’ Walters said. ‘I’m just waiting to speak to the other gravedigger, who’s due back from the dentist soon, but I’ve got the name of the funeral directors who handled the burial you saw on Friday. I’ll check that out
after
I’ve had something to eat,’ Walters added pointedly. ‘I haven’t had anything all morning.’

Horton wasn’t sure that Walters’ ‘anything’ meant the same as most people’s. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and saw that it was almost one thirty. It was also time to move his yacht to another marina and safety, yet he hesitated. ‘If I move it, Barney,’ he explained as they headed back to the station, ‘it might delay me finding him.’

‘Or him finding you,’ Cantelli said. ‘I thought that was the point.’

‘If he returns I’ll be prepared.’

‘Or asleep. Even you can’t keep awake for ever.’

‘I don’t think he will return. Not now I’ve blown his hideaway.’

Cantelli snorted his views on that. ‘I’ll ask for a patrol along Ferry Road. I’ve not noticed anyone tailing us.’

‘Maybe he’s got to sleep some time.’

After grabbing something to eat, Cantelli went to interview Ashley Felton while Horton rang through to Trueman. He briefed Trueman about the stolen tapes and his interviews with Felton, Boynton and Kelly Masters, ending with, ‘I think it confirms that Luke Felton has nothing to do with the Venetia Trotman murder.’

‘I’ll tell the super.’

And then stand well back, added Horton, because Uckfield would need to start looking for another suspect. It also meant he had no reason to be involved in the Venetia Trotman murder, except that he wanted to be. Ridiculous though it was, he felt he owed her something.

There were no signs of Waverley or Harlam and Bliss didn’t make her presence felt either. Horton called Sergeant Stride, who said that no motorbikes had been stolen in the Portsmouth area over the last month – which was good for motorbike owners, not so good for Horton’s mission to unmask his mysterious persecutor. DCI Pritchard hadn’t returned his call, so Horton tried him again, only to be told he was in a meeting. If it was the same meeting it was a bloody long one.

He then called the lab and managed to get hold of Joliffe this time. Joliffe said there was no match on any of the fingerprints taken from the houseboat debris, but he would see if they could get a match on DNA, which would take longer. Horton felt frustrated at the delay but consoled himself with the fact that it ruled out a convicted villain, recently released and after his blood. Did that make the case stronger for his graffiti artist being someone connected with Zeus? Horton wasn’t sure.

His phone rang. Horton answered it to find Walters on the end of the line.

‘The other gravedigger remembers you, guv, and he remembers Rookley.’

Thank heaven for an observant man.
‘And?’

‘He didn’t see where Rookley went because he was watching the committal, but after it he saw Rookley again, talking to someone at one of the graves. He couldn’t see who because he had his back to the gravedigger, but he described him as a well-built man but not fat, dressed in a dark overcoat. He couldn’t see the hair colour because he wore a hat and they were standing under a black umbrella.’

‘Not much help there,’ Horton grumbled, though one person flitted into his mind. Neil Danbury. But then thousands of men were well built and wore dark overcoats; the description also fitted Ashley Felton, who had a reason to be dealing with Rookley, while Neil Danbury didn’t.

Walters continued. ‘The gravedigger says it didn’t look as though they were arguing, and neither did they look as though they were discussing the dearly departed. They weren’t standing over a grave or nothing.’

‘Ask him if Rookley left with this man.’

‘Already have. He doesn’t know. He had to go in the opposite direction to dig another grave.’

Horton cursed. ‘Get around to the funeral directors.’

‘But guv—’

‘You can grab some lunch as you go.’

Restlessly, Horton applied himself to his paperwork while his mind busied itself elsewhere. He thought about Venetia Trotman and the man with the foreign accent who had reported her death. Trueman hadn’t said they’d got anything from analysing his voice pattern, so they must still be waiting on the report. Then there was Jay Turner washed up in the harbour. Where had he come from? Why had he ended up on their shores? Had he been killed? And where was Rookley? He’d vanished completely, like Luke Felton. Could both be connected to drugs? Did Ashley Felton know more than he’d told them?

Horton fetched a coffee, hoping the caffeine would clear his mind, and took it back to his office. Drinking it, he stared across the car park, deep in thought. If Luke had been trying to remember who had been with him on that fateful day, why hadn’t he called Lena Lockhart and asked to listen to the tapes in the hope that it might stimulate greater recall? Perhaps he didn’t want to remember but wanted to put the past behind him and move on, just as Boynton had told them. Horton knew that was easier said than done. Kelly had told them that Luke remembered bailing, which meant he’d either been on a boat at some stage or, as Cantelli had suggested, was getting the word confused with Peter Bailey who gave evidence at his trial.