Shroud of Evil (15 page)

‘Are you sure you’re not our graffiti artist, working your way through every foreign restaurant along that stretch of road so that you can get free meals?’

‘Course not,’ Walters declared indignantly.

Horton eyed him sceptically. But in his heart he knew that Walters didn’t have the brains to work that one out. He might capitalize on it though, which he’d obviously done, but he wasn’t crooked.

‘So what did you get, apart from chicken Vindaloo and gut rot?’

‘Nothing except a verbal onslaught on how useless the police are and that we’ll never catch the bugger who’s doing it and even if we do we’ll probably tell him not to be a naughty boy and send him home with a lollipop.’

Cantelli grinned. ‘Sounds about right. DI Grimes is giving us some assistance. PC Tina Collins from the STOP team will work with us to help identify our culprit. She’s twenty-eight, single and very attractive.’

Walters leered.

Cantelli added, ‘She’s also very intelligent.’

‘So you’ve got no chance there, Walters,’ Horton added.

Cantelli grinned. ‘She’s got a lot of information on extremist groups and individuals operating in the area. She’ll be here in a few minutes.’

Horton said, ‘Go through the file with her, Walters; she might be able to throw some new light on the case. Cross check her list of names with ours. If you find any possible suspects, interview them.’

Horton’s phone was ringing. He entered his office and picked up the receiver. It was Sergeant Elkins.

‘We can’t find any boat in any of the marinas belonging to Brett Veerman, Andy,’ Elkins announced but Horton caught the edge of excitement in his voice. ‘But we have found one belonging to Jasper Kenton.’

‘Where?’ Horton asked eagerly and with surprise. No one had mentioned Kenton had a boat or that he even liked sailing.

‘Hamble Marina.’

Where Danby had said he kept his boat.

‘We’re there now.’

‘I’m on my way.’ He rang off and hurried back into CID. ‘Get your coat, Barney. ‘We’re going on board a boat.’

‘H
e purchased it from Jacinda Boat Sales on the fifteenth of September,’ Elkins explained, as they fell into step beside his sturdy figure and headed for a pontoon at the far end of the large marina. ‘It’s a 1997 motor cruiser, twenty-eight foot, with a twin diesel one hundred and seventy horsepower engine.’

Powerful enough to take Kenton across to Jersey or Guernsey – France even – and certainly to the Isle of Wight in a very short time, thought Horton. On their way he’d discussed with Cantelli the fact that neither Mike Danby nor Eunice Swallows had mentioned Kenton having a boat. Cantelli had ventured that perhaps Kenton had only recently acquired it, or perhaps he hadn’t mentioned it to his business partner in case she nagged him to take her out on it. Cantelli could be right and perhaps Danby didn’t know about it either, even though it was at the marina where he kept his boat. Still, it was a pretty big marina with over three hundred berths.

Horton also wondered why, when there were several marinas close to where Kenton had lived, he’d chosen to keep his boat twenty-two miles away to the west of Portsmouth. Was that significant? He didn’t know. What he
did
know was that there was now a possibility that Kenton’s boat could have been used to transport him, alive or dead, across to the island on Thursday night.

Elkins continued, ‘It came with the berth.’

Which probably explained why Kenton had left it here. ‘Did he say why he wanted to buy a boat?’ Horton hadn’t discovered anything so far to indicate that Kenton was a sailor, but then he knew precious little about the man. He might have owned boats since boyhood. And Dennings and Marsden might already have discovered paperwork and photographs in Kenton’s flat confirming this.

‘The salesman said Kenton was very chatty. He—’

‘Chatty?’ Horton interjected sharply. That was a new take on the former PI.

‘Yes,’ Elkins answered. ‘He said Kenton told him he’d never owned a boat but thought it was about time he gave it a go, living so close to the sea. He wanted something relatively small and easy to handle but not too small in case he wanted to take guests with him. It’s a four berth with a double bunk in one cabin and the divan in the main cabin makes up into another double berth.’

Horton frowned, perplexed.

‘What is it?’ Cantelli asked.

‘This doesn’t sound like Jasper Kenton. Eunice Swallows said he was a very private person and had no friends. And Mike Danby claimed Kenton was quiet and reserved.’

‘Well Kenton is definitely the owner,’ Elkins confirmed. ‘I showed a photograph of him to the salesman and the marina manager and both gave a positive ID.’

Cantelli said, ‘Maybe Kenton put on a front for the salesman. Some people do.’

Maybe. But just who did Kenton intend taking out to sea with him? Had that person done just that and killed him? Was there someone in Jasper Kenton’s life that Eunice Swallows didn’t know about? Or wasn’t saying?

‘It’s down here.’ Elkins indicated the long pontoon with a mixture of large motor cruisers and sailing yachts. The wind was rising and whistling softly through the masts. There was a slight ripple on the water and Cantelli gave it a wary look as they stepped on to the pontoon. He reached for his chewing gum as Horton asked Elkins how much Kenton had paid for the boat.

‘Forty-seven thousand pounds.’

Cantelli almost swallowed his gum. ‘Maybe we should become private investigators.’

Elkins smiled. ‘Yeah, but where’s the job satisfaction?’

‘Who needs job satisfaction with that kind of money in the bank?’ Cantelli answered but Horton knew he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t see Cantelli doing anything other than being a cop, just as his grandfather on his mother’s side had been one.

‘Was there a marine mortgage on it?’ Horton knew Elkins would have asked.

‘No. He paid cash, or rather it was paid via bank transfer. But he had the funds to cover it.’

Cantelli gave a soft whistle and looked sad, probably at the thought of what that kind of money could buy for him and his family. And it wouldn’t be anything to do with boats or for his personal pleasure.

Perhaps forty-seven thousand pounds was a drop in the ocean for Kenton. He had no dependants and his salary at those two pharmaceutical companies must have been generous. He could probably have afforded a newer, more expensive boat. But perhaps he had been careful with his money and had sunk much of his savings into the business. He wondered how financially sound Swallows was.

They’d reached the boat where PC Phil Ripley was waiting for them.

‘It’s a nice motor cruiser,’ Elkins said, running his eyes over the sleek white boat with a green canvas cover over the cockpit. It was if you liked that sort of thing, thought Horton. He didn’t. He preferred one with sails. Kenton’s boat was dwarfed by larger, shinier and newer motor cruisers either side of it and opposite. There didn’t appear to be anyone on board any of the boats surrounding Kenton’s and neither had they seen anyone on the pontoon on their way here.

Horton pulled on his latex gloves and unzipped the cover noting that it and the boat were in very good condition and were spotlessly clean. Elkins rolled back the covering as Horton stepped on board. Cantelli looked dubious for a moment before following. The vinyl cockpit seats looked as though they’d been renewed or otherwise rarely used. The teak laid decking was clean and unmarked. There was an electronic navigational chart plotter at the helm, which might give them information on where Kenton had taken the boat.

The hatch down to the cabins was padlocked but there was no security alarm on it, which Horton thought unusual for a private investigator, especially one, according to Danby and Eunice Swallows, who could set up fairly sophisticated surveillance systems. Perhaps, like Eames, Kenton had pressure sensors and there were discreet monitoring cameras hidden around the cockpit or inside the boat. Horton couldn’t see them. And if there were cameras then Kenton wasn’t around to view them but someone must have in their possession Kenton’s computer, phone, camera and other surveillance equipment. And perhaps that someone was aware that they were here now.

Horton nodded at Elkins who removed a small set of bolt cutters from his pocket. Within seconds the padlock was unlocked and the hatch removed. Horton peered into the main cabin from the open hatch. Everything looked neat and tidy. There was nothing on the table and only a couple of cushions on the cream and blue upholstery. He descended and Cantelli followed him. There wasn’t a lot of room for the three of them so Horton asked Elkins to see if he could get anything from the navigational system at the helm, which was unlikely because they didn’t have the boat keys to switch on the engine. Maybe Dennings would find them in Kenton’s apartment unless they had been on Kenton when he’d been killed, in which case the killer had them. Elkins would also check the lockers in the cockpit.

While Cantelli searched the main cabin and galley, Horton entered the only other cabin, a double berth, as Elkins had said. In the wardrobe he found a waterproof sailing jacket and navy blue sailing cap. There was also a holdall on the floor, which he lifted on to the bed and unzipped. Inside were two pairs of casual trousers, three polo shirts of which two were pale blue and one was white, two beige jumpers, a couple of pairs of pants and socks and trainers. There was also a toiletries bag containing a shaver, shaving foam, toothbrush, toothpaste and shower gel. All were neatly and expertly packed. Horton carried the holdall into the main cabin where Cantelli had placed a folder on the table containing the documents of sale and other details about the boat.

‘Nothing else,’ Cantelli said. ‘Just a few pieces of crockery and cutlery. No food or drink.’

Horton asked Cantelli to bring the file with him. He grabbed the holdall and on deck asked Elkins if he’d found anything of note in the lockers. The answer was no. ‘I’ll get hold of a set of keys for the helm and see if Kenton used the navigational aid recently,’ Elkins added. ‘And I’ll get a new padlock for the hatch.’

Horton asked Ripley to stay with the boat until they could get the scene of crime team there. He took some photographs with his mobile phone and noted the name:
Bright Girl
. To Elkins he said, ‘Contact the Border Agency and ask them if they’ve seen the boat anywhere in the Solent recently or if it’s been stopped. Also check with the marina managers at Ryde, Bembridge, Cowes, Ventnor Haven and Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight, to see if Kenton’s been in to any of them.’

Horton asked Cantelli to interview the salesman while he made for the marina office. On his way he called Trueman and relayed the news about the discovery of the boat.

‘Dennings is still at Kenton’s apartment. I’ll ask if he’s found anything relating to Kenton owning a boat and I’ll get Taylor and Tremaine down there.’ Horton emailed over the pictures he had taken.

At the marina office Horton introduced himself and asked to speak to the manager. A few minutes later he was talking to an auburn-haired man in his early thirties with a tanned face and bright friendly eyes.

‘Yes, that’s Mr Kenton,’ Paul Campbell confirmed when Horton showed him the photograph.

‘When did you last see him?’

‘Sunday before last. He came in to ask where he could buy some fuel. I told him it was on B pontoon, which is at the opposite end from where he’s berthed. I showed him the location on the marina plan and asked if he would like a member of staff to help him, because he was new to the marina and new to boating.’

‘He told you that?’

‘Yes. When he took over the berth. I asked if he had done any courses and he said he didn’t think it was that necessary; it was much like driving a car.’

Horton eyed Campbell incredulously.

Campbell grimaced. ‘I know. I warned him that the sea was very dangerous and unpredictable but he smiled and said he wasn’t going far. Far or not, I told him the Solent is treacherous at any time of the year. But he was confident he would be all right.’ Campbell shook his head sorrowfully. ‘You see them all the time, people who buy boats and have absolutely no idea how to handle them or read charts. Just because the boats have the latest electronic gadgetry they think they’ll be all right but they don’t understand the tides or the weather.’

Horton knew that all too well, and Elkins and his marine unit knew it even more so.

Campbell continued. ‘Mr Kenton said he wouldn’t mind someone showing him where the fuel was so I sent Rob down to help him. Rob said he had to show Mr Kenton how to manoeuvre the boat off his pontoon and guide him down to the fuel pontoon. Mr Kenton is very inexperienced.’ Then it clicked. Campbell looked concerned. ‘Has anything happened to him? Only his boat’s still in the marina, or it was the last time I looked.’

‘Which was when?’

The marina manager rubbed the back of his neck, his forehead screwed up in thought. ‘Saturday, I think. Yes, I’m sure it was.’

But Horton heard the edge of doubt in Campbell’s voice. He didn’t blame him for that. It was a very big marina and there was no lock so it was easy to slip in and out without being noticed. Horton broke the news that Jasper Kenton was dead but didn’t say how he’d died or where, and quickly added, ‘We’re trying to trace his movements for Thursday and Friday. You have CCTV in the car park and on the pontoons – would they show Mr Kenton’s car arriving?’

‘Not if he came here then. We only keep it for forty-eight hours unless there’s a reason to keep it longer, like a theft or disturbance, not that we have many of them,’ he hastily added. ‘I wiped it clean this morning at nine o’clock. So we’ve only got CCTV from then.’

Pity. Horton gave Paul Campbell his card and asked him to contact him if any of his staff recalled seeing Kenton’s car in the car park on Thursday evening or Friday, or if anyone had seen Kenton on his boat or on the pontoon. There was one other place he could ask. Horton called in at the marina bar and restaurant and showed Kenton’s photograph to the manager and two of the staff but none of them recalled seeing Kenton and denied knowing him. He joined Cantelli outside the brokerage and they headed back to the car.