'Yes. Derek had gone for a quick leak. I happened to pop in. I'd left my glasses behind.'

  A break! He could barely contain his excitement. 'Did you see who was piloting her?' Please don't say no, he silently pleaded. 'It wasn't Mr Thurlow. I heard he's been killed, I suppose that's why you want to know.'

  Horton tried to squeeze the impatience from his voice as he said, 'Can you describe this man?'

  'Tall fellow, lean, looks fit.'

  Couldn't be Calthorpe then.

  'I've seen him go out with Mr Jarrett a few times.'

  What! He hadn't expected that. Now his pulse was racing. 'Do you know his name?'

  'No. Mr Jarrett will though.'

  Won't he just. This was better than he had dared to hope. But it put paid to his theory about the murders being linked to Melissa Thurlow. Uckfield was right when he said he'd been barking up the wrong tree. This had nothing to do with framing Melissa Thurlow and everything to do with Jarrett's porn operation.

  He hared down to Jarrett's pontoon but was disappointed to find his boat wasn't there. He tore back to the station, his mind racing. He found Cantelli at his desk.

  'Uckfield's been screaming for you.'

  'I'm on to something, Barney.' He told him what the lockmaster had said. 'In one of the statements a man reported seeing someone running along Ferry Road late on the Tuesday night of Culven's killing. I think it's the same man that took out Thurlow's boat. Tell Sergeant Trueman to check all the statements the night Thurlow was killed and alert the team working on questioning Lucy's neighbours…'

  His phone rang and he was summoned to Uckfield's office.

  He could see immediately by Steve's frozen expression that he knew he'd been to Lucy's flat. He didn't even have time to tell him about the breakthrough on the murder case.

  Uckfield said, his voice terse, 'Why didn't you tell me you called on Lucy Richardson last night?'

  Horton had been expecting it but he had hoped he'd have a little more time before Uckfield found out. He remained silent. There wasn't much he could say.

  'You should have told me,' Uckfield snapped.

  'I went there and there was no answer.'

  Uckfield looked as though he didn't believe him. Horton was sickened by what he saw in Uckfield's eyes. 'I know I can't prove it. I didn't think I would have to, not to you, Steve.'

  'It's not me you have to convince. Superintendent Reine wants to see you.'

  Horton's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He could tell by Uckfield's expression and the tense silence between them as they walked down the corridor that this wasn't going to be good.

  Reine looked up as they entered. He was sitting behind his desk in full uniform, his round shiny face solemn and perspiring in the stifling heat. Horton could see he'd get no help from Uckfield, not yet. Until Steve spoke to his father in-law he was on his own.

  Reine ran a hand over his balding head, removed his reading glasses and eyed Horton coldly. He didn't invite him to sit.

  'Last night you called on Lucy Richardson. Why?'

  Jane Staveley's words reverberated through his head. Someone high up. 'That's my business,' he said, stiffly.

  'I don't think so, Inspector Horton,' Reine snapped. 'I think it is mine especially when someone known to you - shall we even say close to you? - has been brutally murdered.'

  'You can't seriously believe I have anything to do with her death?' He was damned if he was going to say 'sir.'

  'She has done a great deal to harm you, inspector. Maybe you didn't know your own strength? Maybe you wanted revenge for what she'd done to you?'

  Oh clever. Jarrett had primed him well. 'That's rubbish!'

  'Is it?'

  Horton glared at him but said nothing. There was nothing he could say, not here to that man and not now.

  'I am suspending you from duty until further notice.'

  He should have guessed. It all fitted. 'I must also warn you that you will be formally cautioned and questioned in connection with Lucy's death,' Reine said coldly. 'We will need details of your movements both last night and this morning and these will need to be corroborated.'

  He had to find a way out. He wasn't going to let them get him into an interview room, and then a cell, while they cooked up some cock and bull story and tried to fit him up for Lucy's murder.

  'Your warrant card, inspector.'

  Horton reached inside his jacket pocket and placed the card on Reine's desk with a feeling he would never get it back again.

  Reine crossed to the door where a decidedly uncomfortable looking Marsden hovered on the threshold.

  'Escort Inspector Horton to the interview room and stay there with him until Internal Investigations arrive,' Reine instructed.

  Horton held Uckfield's stare for a few moments before turning.

  'Am I allowed to go back to my office to collect a couple of personal things?'

  'The Super said not,' Marsden hesitated. 'What's going on, sir?'

  But Cantelli appeared behind Marsden and said, ' I'll see he gets to the interview room, Jake.'

  'But the Super-'

  'I'm taking over from now.'

  After a moment's hesitation Marsden nodded and walked off.

  Cantelli pushed back the door of the social club and Horton followed him inside. Cantelli closed and locked the door behind them. The room was empty and they walked swiftly to the bar area.

  'Reine thinks I killed her,' Horton said, as Cantelli lifted the counter flap and they made their way through to the small storeroom behind it.

  'That's bloody ridiculous.'

  'I know, but I can't let Internal Investigations get hold of me, not yet anyway.' Horton looked at the fire exit.

  'What are you going to do?'

  'You don't need to know that, Barney. Look, I appreciate you helping me like this. You're already risking suspension when Reine finds out you've let me go.'

  'Yeah, well I've been promising Charlotte I'd decorate the lounge for a long time now,' and he grinned. 'Come on.'

  Horton could see Barney had made up his mind. He was rather glad to have him along. He pushed down the bar and the door slid open. Stepping on to the fire escape he peered down. There was no one standing guard at the bottom of it. It came out into the car park. They reached Cantelli's car without being accosted.

  'Where to?' Cantelli asked, stretching the seat belt around him.

  Horton lifted a pile of Cantelli's children's drawings on to the back seat and said, 'Jarrett's boat.'

  CHAPTER 16

  By the time they reached the marina the wind had risen and the halyards were slapping against the masts. The stifling heat had vanished and the fat rain had developed into lean, mean streaks. Horton thought he heard the faint rumble of thunder as they slipped on to the pontoon brushing past a man coming out. Hurrying towards Jarrett's boat Horton could see he was back and that the cover was off which meant that Jarrett must be on board. He wondered why he hadn't covered over his precious yacht to protect it from the weather. As he climbed on board and dipped below into the cabin he saw the answer.

  He cursed and stepped aside with a sinking heart. Jarrett was lying on his back. His eyes were staring up into nothing. There was blood around his mouth and a livid mark around his neck. Horton felt for the pulse in Jarrett's neck even though he knew there was no point. The body was still warm. He straightened up shaking his head at Cantelli who looked shocked and worried. Horton knew where this would leave him. They would try and pin Jarrett's murder on him along with Lucy's.

  Cantelli said, 'Is it the same killer?'

  'Looks like it.' Horton was unable to disguise the disappointment he felt. 'Chummy seems to go in for strangulation.'

  'This doesn't make sense. Why kill Jarrett? What has he got to do with Melissa Thurlow?'

  'Nothing. The murders have no connection with Melissa Thurlow. I was wrong.' Horton stepped back on deck under the protective cover of the spray hood. He could hear the rain beating against it and splattering onto the pristine deck. 'I didn't expect this. I should have done.' He tried to clear his brain. Think damn you, think. 'You'd better phone through and get the circus in.' He couldn't stick around here and wait for Uckfield. 'Can I borrow your car, Barney?'

  Cantelli looked surprised. 'Where are you going?'

  'Away from here, that's for sure.'

  'I discovered the body with you,' Cantelli protested.

  'By the time Uckfield and Reine are convinced of that it will be too late.' He wasn't prepared to tell Barney his suspicions about Reine being the someone 'high up' that Jane had mentioned. He didn't want Cantelli compromised, or at risk, any more than he already was. 'Tell them you were acting on a hunch coming out here. Don't mention me.'

  'And if they ask me where my car is?'

  'I'm sure you'll think of something. And try and trace that man we saw slipping off the pontoon as we came in. Did you get a look at him?'

  Cantelli frowned. 'Not a proper one, sorry.' Neither did Horton, though he felt there was something familiar about him. 'I'll call you.'

  Horton climbed into Cantelli's car with a sinking heart. Four people dead and no nearer to finding the killer. There had to be something he'd overlooked. Could the lockmaster give a better description? Had anyone else seen and recognised this man on Thurlow's boat? Oh they'd find out, once they'd questioned the marina staff and berth holders. But how long would that take and where would he be then? Still suspended – again.

  He slid the driver's seat back to accommodate his longer legs but it got stuck. He reached underneath to find a child's drawing book stuffed in the space. He grabbed it and made to throw it on the back seat when his hand froze. He glanced down at the drawings he'd already thrown there. Rapidly he examined them and then the drawings in the book, his heart going like the clappers. He sat back and thought. Cantelli's drawings on his notice board, the twins writing underneath them and on these drawings, Melissa's belief that she had an illegitimate brother or sister. Could it be a twin brother or sister? There were the love letters to Culven that Melissa had denied writing and yet were in an identical hand. He stared at the drawings illuminated in a flash of lightning, you couldn't tell the difference between the Cantelli twins writing. He recalled the lockmaster's description: a lean fit man - an athlete, a runner.

  He swung the car out of Horsea Marina. His heart was still racing. The photographs on the wall of Thurlow's boardroom had shown a man with a marathon medal and a group of disabled children. The business was losing money but Calthorpe had seemed unaware of it. Culven's files had mentioned redundancies. Why hadn't he seen the likeness before? Oh yes, Melissa did have a twin and that twin was Graham Parnham. But how could it be? His alibi confirmed he'd been in France.

  Parnham's house was in darkness and despite ringing the bell and knocking several times Horton knew he wasn't there. Where could he have gone? If he was right - though as yet there was no evidence to say he was – this was a man who had killed three people, four if he was responsible for Jarrett's death, but Horton wasn't sure about that. This was a man who would kill again to achieve his goal, which was… There was only one place.

  The lightning was flashing across the sky like an erratic searchlight and the thunder booming like a hundred canons by the time he reached Briarly House. The house was in darkness. Perhaps Melissa had gone to stay with friends? He stepped back and looked up at the window. Then he walked around to the back of the house looking for the best way to enter. He pushed against the conservatory door. It opened. Gingerly he crept through the kitchen, his ears straining for the slightest of sounds but all he could hear was the thunder. From his previous visits he knew the house wasn't alarmed.

  He negotiated the hall, knocking his shin on the corner of a table and cursing softly under his breath. Swiftly, but stealthily, he searched the rooms on the ground floor but found nothing and no one. Upstairs he stood in the pitch black and strained his ears but heard only the wind and rain. A growing sense of anxiety was beginning to creep up his spine. Something wasn't quite right. He felt uneasy. This house wasn't empty. He'd known from the moment he had stepped over the threshold, only he'd chosen to ignore his instinct. Now his pulse quickened and he tried to still his pounding heart as he eased his way along the landing. Carefully and slowly he pushed back a door to a bedroom, nothing, then another and the bathroom. Deserted.

  He made his way down the passageway to the room at the end. Gingerly, with his fingertips, he pushed open the door. Slowly it swung wide.

  She was lying on the bed, much as Lucy Richardson had been, but Melissa Thurlow was face down and wearing a green dressing gown. An empty bottle of pills and an empty whisky bottle lay by her side on the floor. Her arm was hanging over the edge of the bed where she had let it fall.

  Swiftly he crossed to the bed believing her to be dead but when he pressed his fingers against her neck he felt a pulse. Thank God. He lifted the telephone, but something struck him violently on the side of the head, and he fell to the floor. Before he even had a chance to recover a gun was thrust at his temple. 'Over.' He rolled over. His head was muggy from the blow. He felt his arms being wrenched behind him whilst his brain said, resist, fight back, but that gun was at his head. Whatever bound him was made of material. The bonds were tightened.

  'Up.'

  He struggled up.

  'You can turn around.'

  He turned.

  Parnham said, 'I don't mind shooting you here if I have to, so don't try anything, inspector.'

  Slowly Horton's mind began to clear.

  'Let me call an ambulance. She's still alive.'

  'All the more reason not to call one.'

  Was he going to have to stand here and watch Melissa slowly die whilst this man gloated?

  Parnham's eyes flickered to Melissa for a moment but almost instantly came back up again and focused on Horton before he had a chance to take advantage of it. He must think of a way to overpower Parnham and get help for Melissa before it was too late. But he was staring at a ruthless, unbalanced and complex personality. If Melissa died, that would make four deaths. Not Jarrett's though, because now Horton knew who the man slipping off the pontoon had been. But what good was that if he didn't get out of here? Parnham wouldn't hesitate to kill him, but to do so here would be a mistake. He would need to get him away from Briarly House and then Horton would have to take his chance. But it might be too late for Melissa.

  'You're going to stand there and let your twin sister die?'

  'You know.' Parnham looked disappointed. A flicker of annoyance showed behind the eyes, this time without their spectacles. Now Horton could see the likeness more strongly. He cursed himself for not spotting it sooner, but Parnham's spectacles, and the light shining off them from Thurlow's office window, had deceived him. He remembered how Parnham had removed his spectacles and polished them, a gesture, Horton now guessed, designed to taunt him.

  Parnham continued, 'She had nothing but luxury and comfort all her life. She never had to work and scrimp and save like me.'

  'You killed her because of that!' goaded Horton. The longer he kept him talking the more chance he had of getting out of this alive.

  'Why not? I couldn't get my revenge on my stupid, selfish mother. And besides Roger was going to make me redundant. How could I get another position at my age? Especially one so lucrative.'

  'You were taking money out of the company.'

  'Of course. I was drawing the director's pay I was entitled to.'

  'And you didn't think that was putting pressure on the business and hence your proposed redundancy?' Horton scoffed.

  Parnham scowled. 'The business would have been fine if Roger and Charles hadn't been so greedy, but then when you're keeping a mistress… Why should I be the one to suffer because of their greedy incompetence?'

  'You overheard Thurlow and Culven talking about the redundancies in the yacht club on that Friday?'

  A sharp flash of lightning lit the room illuminating Parnham's face for a moment. Almost instantly it was followed by a deafening crack of thunder, which shook the house and rattled the thin windowpanes. Parnham didn't even flinch. It was as though he were living in an existence of his own, totally oblivious of the storm raging around him. Horton could hear the wind chasing itself around the house and the mean rain lashing against the windows with such ferocity that he thought the panes might shatter.

  Parnham said, 'I heard Roger arranging the meeting with Culven and knew they were up to something. The company has corporate membership of the yacht club so I simply went there before Roger and waited. They couldn't see me from where they were sitting.' Horton had to raise his voice to be heard above the storm. 'So you planned your revenge?'

 

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