Shroud of Evil (26 page)

He laid on his bunk trying to recall what he had seen at the Veermans’ house on Tuesday afternoon. Had there been anything unusual or different? Only that Thelma’s car was on the driveway, but that wasn’t unusual. And he hadn’t heard anything to arouse his suspicions. Perhaps if he’d observed the shore from the ferry on his way back to Portsmouth he might have seen a boat approaching the house. He certainly hadn’t seen one on his arrival.

Then there was the fact that Kenton had travelled to the Isle of Wight by car ferry on the Friday before he was reported missing. Why? And how many other times had he crossed to the island recently? Did it matter? And still nagging relentlessly away at him was the purchase of that boat, the fact that he’d received no training in handling it, that he hadn’t even wanted to take it out for a trial and that he’d had it refuelled but hadn’t used it. But above all was the discrepancy in reports of Jasper Kenton’s personality and Horton thought it was about time they got to the bottom of it.

‘I’
d like to interview Jasper Kenton’s sister,’ Horton announced to Uckfield after the briefing had finished.

‘What the hell for? She didn’t kill them.’

‘I know, but the description of Kenton given by the marina manager and the salesman bothers me. It’s contrary to everything we’ve been told about Kenton.’ And that amongst other things had preoccupied Horton during his many wakeful moments throughout the night. Uckfield had confirmed at the briefing that everything that could be done was being done. The house-to-house would be conducted. The warrants would be through later that morning. Dennings would oversee the search of Veerman’s Isle of Wight property, the boathouse and the couple’s cars. Bliss would coordinate the search of the Admiralty Towers apartment, Veerman’s consulting rooms and the questioning of Veerman’s colleagues at both the National Health Service and private hospitals. The latter two of which would be conducted by DC Marsden and PC Kate Somerfield.

Kenton’s bank accounts had been handed over to the economic crime unit to analyse. Trueman had reported that Kenton’s phone records hadn’t revealed any calls to Thelma Veerman’s number but the records of his calls were still being analysed. Trueman had also applied for access to Thelma Veerman’s mobile phone record. Eunice Swallows had given Bliss the number.

Horton had suggested that the dogs could have been drugged. And as they were still with the Dog Support Unit on the Isle of Wight, Dennings would arrange to have them tested. But it might be too late, thought Horton, as whatever they had been given could now be out of their system. He had asked about the Veermans’ son and had ventured that he should also be questioned. He would be able to tell them more about his parents’ relationship. Trueman had revealed that John Veerman was on board RFA
Argus
, the Royal Navy’s primary casualty receiving ship. It was on counter-drugs patrol around the Caribbean. He was being flown home.

Bliss now eyed Horton in her customary cold, suspicious manner. ‘I can’t see how you talking to Kenton’s sister can help find his killer or Thelma Veerman’s when they haven’t spoken for years.’

‘Did she tell you that?’

‘She told the local police and she also told Eunice Swallows, who spoke to her on the phone after she’d formerly identified the body.’

‘Do you know why they fell out?’

‘Who said they did? They just drifted apart.’

‘I’d like to know more about Kenton. And I’d like Cantelli with me,’ Horton said to Uckfield. Bliss looked as though she was about to refuse but Uckfield got there first and he outranked her.

‘OK, but don’t be all bloody day about it.’

Horton made his escape before Uckfield could change his mind or Bliss could persuade him to. Walters had been designated to continue working on the restaurant attacks after another fruitless late night spent watching them and to attend to CID matters. He seemed to have recovered from his stomach upset.

Horton asked Cantelli to call Louise Durridge to tell her they were on their way. He didn’t want a wasted journey. He turned to Walters. ‘Chase up forensic to see if they’ve got more on the manufacturer of the paint that was used on those restaurants and if so follow it up. Yes, I know you’ve checked the major hardware stores but there must be other shops in the area.’ Then he paused on his way to his office as an idea struck him. Walters had already identified those restaurants whose security systems were doubtful and those whose kitchens looked in need of redecoration, but had he returned to the three that had been vandalized?

He turned back. ‘Find out if any of the restaurants attacked have received a quote for redecorating. If they have, get whatever information you can on who’s quoted them. Find out what jobs they’ve carried out before. This could be a straightforward con man trying to drum up business.’

Horton fetched his sailing jacket from his office and eyed his phone, hesitating over whether to call Harry Kimber. Early that morning, before the briefing, he’d discovered from his research on the Internet that the Royal Navy Hospital Haslar had expanded its remit in 1966 to admit members of all three services – the Royal Navy, Army and Royal Air Force. So Bernard Litchfield
could
have been a patient there. And Eileen
could
have been visiting him. And Jennifer
could
have been heading there. Horton was sure that Kimber would have visited his closest friend in hospital. He might be able to confirm that Bernard was actually in the hospital at that time and for how long.

Cantelli popped his head round the door to say that Louise Durridge would see them at her place of work, a dress shop in the small market town of Marlborough. Harry Kimber would have to wait.

Horton calculated that it would take them about eighty minutes to get to Marlborough, in the north-east corner of Wiltshire, and another eighty to get back, plus about an hour at the most to interview Louise Durridge, so they should return by mid-afternoon. But Horton’s timescale soon went by the wayside when first they were held up because of an earlier accident on the M27 heading towards Southampton and secondly because of heavy traffic on the M3 to Winchester. He was beginning to wonder whether in fact they would ever reach Marlborough and were doomed to spend the entire day on the gridlocked roads of Britain. Eventually though Cantelli drew into the market town and began searching for a parking place in the middle of the wide and ancient high street.

‘Did you know that Marlborough was granted a Royal Charter by King John in 1204 enabling it to achieve market town status?’ he said, scouring the road keenly, ready to pounce if someone looked even remotely like they were returning to their vehicle.

‘No, but I believe you. Anything else I should know?’ Horton asked – apart, he said to himself, from the fact that one of Lord Eames’ estates bordered the attractive old market town.

‘They’ve got a very posh private boarding school here.’

Horton knew that.

‘Well outside the remit of a sergeant’s pay and even a Chief Constable’s,’ Cantelli added.

But not that of the Eames family, because Horton had also discovered through his research on the Eames family history that Richard Eames’ younger brother, Gordon, had attended Marlborough College. It had been founded by a group of Church of England clergymen in 1843 with the prime purpose of educating the sons of clergy. Perhaps Lady Marsha and Lord William Eames had hoped some of the Christian influence of the past would rub off on their younger son. If so they had been sorely disappointed. Gordon Eames’ life had spiralled out of control somewhere between the mid 1960s and early ‘70s and he had died abroad in 1973, leaving Richard Eames, the current Lord, the only surviving child.

Horton wondered what Eames had made of the death of Thelma Veerman. He must have been told by now and that meant that Mike Danby would also know but he’d not been on the phone to inquire about it. Why should he though? Kenton’s death being connected with Eames was now highly unlikely. His Lordship could get on with his trade negotiations with Russia in peace.

Cantelli finally found a parking space and they located Louise Durridge’s spacious and tastefully decorated dress shop just off the high street. Cantelli apologized for their lateness, which she dismissed with a nervous smile.

‘I know what the traffic is like,’ she said, excusing herself from her assistant, an elegant lady in her late fifties. She showed them through to the back of the shop where to his left Horton caught sight of a row of well-lit changing rooms with enough mirrors to terrorize anyone suffering from Eisoptrophobia. They stepped into a back room that, despite the fact it contained rails of clothes, a steam iron and ironing board as well as a sink, fridge, coffee machine and kettle, was spotlessly clean and tidy. A door to the right indicated the toilet, which, Horton thought, her customers must need if they took as long as Catherine to buy clothes. From what he’d seen on entering this was just the kind of place that would have had her salivating at the mouth. And at prices her new boyfriend could easily afford, but then he wasn’t a public servant, a phrase that had become something of a dirty word of late and which Horton bitterly resented. There was another door beside the fridge that led into a back yard for deliveries.

Louise Durridge offered them refreshments, which they accepted, Cantelli plumping for tea and Horton coffee. He eyed her keenly. She was younger than her brother by four years but she could easily have passed for late thirties. Her dark hair was cut in a short neat bob framing a lean and attractive dark face with minimal make-up. She was dressed smartly in a light grey shift dress that reached her knees and showed off her figure, rounded in all the right places, but not fat. Her legs, clad in black stockings, or tights, were shapely and she wore black court shoes with a small heel.

‘How long have you had the shop?’ Cantelli asked, as she gestured them into two seats at a small table and flicked on the kettle.

‘Eight years. I stock all the latest designer wear. It’s very successful,’ she declared proudly and a little defensively, Horton thought. ‘It’s a wealthy area and being so close to the College I get mothers, aunts, sisters and even some of the students in here.’

‘From Marlborough College?’ Cantelli said, displaying his recently acquired knowledge.

Yes. It’s half term next week so I’m expecting to be busy today and over the weekend.’ She handed Horton his black coffee in an expensive-looking porcelain mug. And as if to prove her point the shop bell buzzed.

‘We won’t keep you long,’ Horton replied. ‘And we do appreciate you giving us the time.’

‘That’s OK, only I’m not sure I can help you much. I don’t really know anything about Jasper’s life. I hadn’t seen him for years.’ She handed Cantelli his tea and put milk and sugar on the table in front of them.

Cantelli said, ‘When was the last time you had contact with your brother?’

She stood back and eyed them both. Again Horton thought she seemed nervous. ‘I don’t remember exactly. It was a very long time ago.’

But it was a lie. Horton saw that instantly and so too did Cantelli, not that he betrayed it and neither did Horton. They both remained silent, sensing that it would prompt her to disclose more. And she did.

‘Jasper and I … well, we were different,’ she stammered.

‘You fell out?’ Cantelli prompted gently.

‘Not exactly.’ She took a breath. ‘We just didn’t have a lot in common.’ She eyed them anxiously. ‘I understand from Ms Swallows that you’re investigating his death. Do you think … is there any reason to believe …?’

‘He was unlawfully killed, yes.’

‘Murdered?’ she breathed.

Cantelli solemnly nodded.

She studied his face for a moment then let out a long slow breath. Pulling out the third seat at the table, she sat down as the shop doorbell again buzzed and loud female voices reached into the back room. She seemed not to notice.

After a moment she resumed. ‘Jasper was the favourite. A boy, and clever. He was quiet, studious and obedient. He always did what people wanted or expected him to do. Me? I was the dunce. I was noisy, clumsy and rebellious.’ She gave a timid smile as though it was a joke but Horton heard the bitterness and sensed the pain it had caused her. She looked down at her immaculate manicured fingers. ‘I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead and all that but …’ She trailed off.

‘What happened?’ Horton asked quietly.

Her head came up and in her eyes Horton saw years of anguish.

‘I left home as soon as I could, just before I was seventeen. I couldn’t stand hearing about how wonderful Jasper was and how well he was doing any longer. He’d got high grades in his A levels and was destined to go to university. He was a credit to his parents. The sun shone out of his every orifice. So when Stuart Hayes told me he had a friend in London who was looking for someone to share, I went like a shot.’

‘Stuart Hayes?’ Cantelli said, surprised.

‘Yes. You remember him?’ she asked with an expression that Horton thought was pleasure as he racked his brains trying to recall the name, which was obviously familiar to Cantelli.

‘If it’s the same one, he was the drummer in Gracious Grove, the 1980s band,’ Cantelli answered.

‘That’s right.’ She beamed at him.

Horton hid his surprise. It was the group Mike Danby had mentioned because his first client James Westrop had recommended Chas Foxton, also a previous member of Gracious Grove, to Danby. And Foxton’s pop star clients had stayed at Lord Eames’ Isle of Wight residence. Interesting. But significant? He didn’t yet know but he felt a frisson of excitement.

‘How did you know Stuart Hayes?’ he asked her, keenly interested. Cantelli threw him a curious glance.

‘I went to school with him; we were in the same class. Jasper won a scholarship to the grammar school but I went to the local comprehensive.’

Horton tucked away this interesting piece of information for examination later, uncertain where it would lead them, if anywhere. But perhaps more would be revealed as she continued.

‘I got a job in a boutique in London and loved it. I began to spend more time with the boys in the band. That’s when I met Mason Petterson, another member of the band and, well we became more than friends.’ Then her smile faded. ‘It took Jasper two months before he turned up and two weeks to get hired by them.’