Horton stared up at the two-storey brick building in front of him. There were lights shining from the upper floor and a handful of cars parked in the spaces in front of it, but there was one car in particular that drew his attention and made him groan. It belonged to Nicholas Farnsworth, the TV diver. He hoped that the man wasn't going to bend his ear about those bloody anonymous telephone calls. And if Farnsworth was here, then perhaps Jackson and Corinna Denton were too. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.
After Lee's brief introduction to a bodiless voice on the intercom, they stepped inside a rather gloomy and deserted entrance lobby which reeked of sea, salt and sweat. Horton peered down a long dark corridor directly ahead of him, but could see nothing except the sign on the wall that told him it led to the equipment room. From above he could hear the rumble of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.
Despatching Lee to the equipment room, he followed the sound of laughter to the top of a staircase and pushed open a door. A blast of warmth, light and conversation hit him like a slap in the face and along with it the smell of alcohol and aftershave. There were about twenty people, mainly men, in the spacious room. Some were talking at the bar but the majority were around Farnsworth. Thankfully, Horton could see no sign of Jackson or Corinna Denton.
'Inspector Horton, to what do we owe this pleasure?' Farnsworth chimed brightly, spotting him and switching on his television smile. His insincerity set Horton's teeth on edge.
The others fell silent and looked curiously at Horton. Amongst them was a petite woman in her thirties with the most remarkable smudgy blue eyes he had ever seen. 'I didn't expect to find you here,' Horton said, contriving to make it sound as though Farnsworth was slumming it.
'It's a diving club, and I am a diver,' Farnsworth rejoined unruffled, though Horton detected a hint of annoyance.
'Which is why I am here to ask questions about the death of Daniel Collins.'
Farnsworth showed no reaction, but the woman with the smudgy eyes looked startled. On the others, Horton witnessed a mixture of sadness, bewilderment and wariness. One of the men stepped forward.
'Can I help you, Inspector? I'm Gary Manners, the club secretary.'
Horton took in the broad shoulders, powerful head and sharp grey eyes. Manners seemed to be in his mid-forties and had an air of authority about him that Horton guessed came from more than just his position here.
'When was the last time you saw Daniel, sir?' he asked.
'The evening before Christmas Eve,' Manners replied crisply.
Horton could see that he had everyone's attention now, and Farnsworth didn't much like it. Well, tough. 'He was in here drinking?'
'Daniel didn't drink,' the small woman chimed, her voice like a whip cracking.
'Never?'
'Never.'
The others murmured agreement. So that seemed pretty much confirmed. Then why drink Christmas Eve? Could it have been a reaction to his mother telling him she had breast cancer? After all, that was enough to turn anyone turn to drink.
'How did Daniel seem?' he asked.
It was Farnsworth who voiced what Horton knew they were all thinking. 'Why the questions, Inspector? Is there something suspicious about this man's death?'
Horton swivelled his gaze to Farnsworth. 'Did you know him?'
'No.'
Horton thought that rather strange given that it was a small club. But maybe Farnsworth didn't come here that often. Or perhaps Farnsworth thought himself above acknowledging someone like Daniel Collins. At that moment Lee chose to enter.
Her bright smile swept the room and Horton saw a few of the men follow her with appreciative eyes as she made straight for Farnsworth.
'Nice to see you again, Detective Constable,' Farnsworth said smoothly. 'Can I buy you a drink, if Inspector Horton will allow it?'
'Orange juice would be great,' she answered, without looking at Horton. The crowd dispersed and Horton was left facing Gary Manners.
'How often did Daniel come here?'
'Nearly every weekend when he wasn't working, and a couple of evenings a week. He was a care assistant in a nursing home, but then you probably know that.'
'Did you ever go out diving with him?'
'Once or twice. He dived with Nathan Lester quite regularly.' Manners scanned the crowd. 'He's not here, otherwise you could have had a word with him.'
'Do you know where I can find him?'
'He has an antiques shop in Highland Road. If he's not there, you might be able to get him in the marine archaeological offices in Fort Cumberland. I don't know where he lives.'
Horton could easily find that out. Lester might be able to tell them more about Daniel. 'How did Daniel seem when you last saw him?'
'Fine. His usual self.'
'And that was?'
'Quiet, watchful, thoughtful.'
'More so than usual?'
'Not really. Daniel wasn't the type to get drunk and kill himself. It must have been an accident.'
'So how do you account for the alcohol found in his body?'
'Maybe he drank something which contained alcohol without realizing it.'
Maybe, thought Horton. 'Have you any idea where he might have gone on Christmas Eve?'
'Sorry, no.' Manners' eyes flicked beyond Horton. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to Nick.'
'He's their most popular member. The bastard!' came a voice from behind Horton.
He spun round to find the petite woman with the smudgy-blue eyes glowering across the room. At first he thought she was referring to Manners. Then following her hostile stare, he saw it was directed at Farnsworth.
'I'm Daisy Pemberton,' she said, stretching out a hand. Horton found her grip almost knuckle crushing. 'I was Nick's girlfriend until about ten minutes ago. He dumped me in the car park, but I refused to scuttle away with a broken heart. He didn't like me coming in, but it's my club as well as his.'
He wouldn't have put her down as Farnsworth's type, but then how did he know what the man's preferences were, though he imagined them to be tall with long blonde hair.
She said, 'You'd better tell your buddy that she's flirting with a serial two-timing bastard.'
Horton glanced in Lee's direction and saw her laugh at something Farnsworth said. Then Farnsworth drew Lee away from Manners with a light touch on her back. For a moment Manners' guard came down and Horton caught a glimpse of anger in his expression. Then he quickly recovered his composure and turned towards another member with a smile.
'DC Lee can handle it,' Horton said. 'So who is the other woman in Farnsworth's life?'
'You're a copper, work it out for yourself.'
His mind flashed back to the Queen's Hotel and that interview with Jackson and Farnsworth. Of course, he should have seen the signs then. 'Corinna Denton.'
'No wonder you're a detective! Well, no point in my hanging around now.'
She turned to leave, but Horton forestalled her. 'Can I buy you a drink?' She could tell him more about Daniel Collins and hopefully Lee would get some information from the other club members, if she could bear to tear herself away from Farnsworth.
Daisy eyed him keenly. After a moment she shrugged. 'OK. Dry white wine.'
He ordered a Coke for himself and steered Daisy to a vacant table by the large window. Out on the black sea beyond he could see the pinpricks of the red and green of the buoys in the channel and in the distance the faint lights of a container ship.
'How often does Farnsworth come here?' he asked, putting his full attention on Daisy. It wasn't a chore.
'A few times a year, when he's not diving around Britain on that bloody stupid programme, or giving after-dinner speeches and acting the big TV personality.'
So, perhaps Farnsworth hadn't been lying when he said he didn't know Daniel Collins. Their paths might never have crossed.
She added, 'And to think I fell for Nick. I must have been mad. I mean just look at him.'
Horton did. Farnsworth was smiling at Lee as he spoke, but every now and then his eyes would flicker up and beyond her as though seeking a wider audience. Lee seemed not to notice, but Horton knew she had. He was beginning to think she was a very good cop. Why only a DC? As her temporary boss he ought to see her file. Maybe he'd request it tomorrow. He wondered if he'd be allowed to see it though.
'He's not even a good diver,' Daisy said scathingly. 'Not like Daniel, who was also a very talented photographer.'
'I've seen some of his pictures. What was Daniel like?'
Now, down to the real business of his visit here.
'You don't think his death was an accident, do you?' she declared bluntly, holding his gaze. He knew that lying to her, or fobbing her off, wasn't going to get him what he wanted.
'There are certain facts that don't quite add up.'
'Such as?'
'Like him being drunk, though there is an explanation for that. His mother had just told him she'd been diagnosed with breast cancer. Maybe he hit the bottle in his anger and sorrow. Not being used to drinking, it wouldn't have taken much for him to get intoxicated.'
But Daisy was shaking her head. 'No. Daniel wouldn't have reacted like that.'
'Then how would he have behaved?' He was really interested.
'He would have been upset, of course. But Daniel was always very calm and practical. He would have researched every known treatment for breast cancer, organized his mother's care, even drawn up a timetable for her. He would have spoken to the doctors, and made sure she lacked for nothing. He was very thorough, always erring on the side of caution, which was why he was a good buddy on a diving trip. You just knew you'd be OK. Oh, it used to get up my nose sometimes; he'd double and triple check all the equipment. He was almost obsessive about it, like he was about his photography. He was very painstaking.'
Horton recalled Daniel's bedroom and office. Daisy's words bore out what he'd seen there, everything in its place, everything labelled.
'He wasn't an emotional man then?'
'He might have been inside, but he never showed his emotion, to me anyway. He might have done to others. I didn't know him outside this diving club. But I just can't see him getting drunk and then driving a car. If he did have a drink, which I find rather difficult to believe, though even saints are tempted, then he wouldn't have driven, his personality wouldn't have allowed it. It would have been too risky.'
'He might have been too drunk to think rationally.'
'You're wrong. That wouldn't have been Daniel's nature.'
'You seem very certain.'
'I should be. I'm a psychologist.'
He tried to hide his surprise but he wasn't quite quick or clever enough for Daisy Pemberton.
'It's OK,' she said, pushing a hand through her short dark hair and grinning. 'I'm off duty. And I specialize in sports psychology.'
That didn't make any difference to him. A psychologist was a psychologist whatever branch she majored in. And he'd had a bellyful of them as a boy. Enough to put him off for life, which was a pity because he found himself rather attracted to Daisy Pemberton.
After a moment she added, 'Daniel's drink could have been spiked by someone he thought was his friend but who wasn't.'
With deepening interest, Horton saw her eyes flick to Farnsworth. Farnsworth said he hadn't met Daniel. Was he lying or was this Daisy's spite talking?
'Why would someone do that?'
'No idea.' She tossed back the remainder of her wine. Rising, she said, 'Want another?'
'No, thanks.'
'I was thinking of drowning my sorrows, but now I shall celebrate my release from hero worshipping. And I've just seen someone rather interesting walk in.'
Horton watched her cross the room, where she hailed a tall fair man in his late thirties. Horton didn't think Daisy was going to be without a boyfriend for long.
He gave Lee the nod. Outside he breathed in the crisp night air. The temperature had plunged considerably since the morning, but at least it had stopped bloody raining. Zipping up his sailing jacket against a stiff breeze that had veered to the north-east, he walked slowly out of the car park considering what Daisy had said. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that she had deliberately planted the idea of Farnsworth being involved with Daniel's death in his mind. Either as a form of revenge or an experiment to see whether he'd take the bait.
He stared across the road at the masts in Southsea Marina, wishing that all he had to do was slip across there to his boat. Instead he had a twelve-mile drive to Gosport Marina. 'Sorry, guv, couldn't get away,' Lee said, hurrying across the car park and zapping open the car. Climbing in, she continued. 'I checked out the lockers. Daniel didn't have one. I asked Gary Manners, and he said that Daniel had his own dry suits, regulator, masks, fins and snorkel, which he must have kept at home, but he hired the rest of his equipment from the club, which also has its own RIB.'
'And Farnsworth? What did you get from him other than a hand on your back and an invitation to dinner?'
'Which I declined.'
'Pity.'
'There are some sacrifices that one has to make in the name of the job, but spending an evening fending off that self-important creep is one too many.'
'Where's your sense of duty?'
She smiled. 'Apart from spouting on about the diving series, and how much fan mail he receives, all I could get is that he's divorced and lives in Haslemere.'
Which was about an hour's drive from Portsmouth and easily commutable. Horton guessed that Farnsworth had chosen to stay in the Queen's Hotel rather than drive daily for two reasons: one, so that he could spend his nights with Corinna Denton and two to take advantage of the television production company's expense account and indulge in a spot of free luxurious living.
The door of the club opened and Farnsworth stepped out with a mobile phone pressed to his ear. He climbed into his car without noticing them and started it up. Then, still on his phone, he drove out of the car park.
'Do you want me to go after him?' Lee asked.
'No. Call traffic and see if they can get to him whilst he's still using his mobile. Oh, and ask them to breathalyse him.'
That would give Farnsworth publicity all right, but Horton doubted it was the type the golden boy wanted.
'Where was Farnsworth on Christmas Eve?' he asked, when she came off the radio.
'With Daisy Pemberton.'
And it didn't need any stretch of his imagination to guess what they'd been doing. He doubted if attending midnight mass was on their itinerary.
'Did you get anything else on Daniel Collins?'
'No.'
He relayed what Daisy had told him, by which time they'd reached the station where Lee dropped him, before heading off, presumably to her hotel.
Horton stared at the paperwork on his desk, wondering when on earth he was going to have time to tackle it. Tomorrow was the answer, he thought, picking up some files and plonking them in his in-tray. A note fell out and reaching for it Horton saw with excitement that it was a telephone message from Ray Ferris. He had called at seven thirty two, two hours ago, and asked to be called back on his mobile. Checking his office door was tightly shut against the empty CID office, Horton called him from his mobile.
'DC Lee worked in the Operational Planning and Policy Unit,' Ferris said without preamble.
So she was telling the truth, Horton thought, with an edge of disappointment. 'How long for?'
'Six weeks.'
Not long. 'Her boss?'
'Superintendent Warren.'
'OK. Thanks, Ray.' He'd been wrong. It wouldn't be the first time and he was certain it wouldn't be the last either. He was about to ring off when Ferris stalled him.
'That's the official version.'
Horton was suddenly alert.
'Can you talk?' Ferris quickly added. 'And I don't mean in your office.'
Horton rose, his pulse quickening. 'Hang on.' Swiftly he crossed the CID room until he was standing in the empty corridor by the coffee machine. 'And the unofficial one?'
'I haven't told you this, and don't ask where I got it from. She's from the Intelligence Directorate.'
Horton felt cold. Intelligence Directorate dealt with major and complex crimes such as drugs or people trafficking, money laundering, tracking international criminals and extortion on a national and international scale. Why here, why now? What the devil was going on?
'If I end up back on the beat, it's you I'll come hassling.' And Ferris rang off.
Horton exhaled. Collecting his plastic cup of coffee, he returned to his office, mulling over what he had just learnt. So he'd been right about Lee. That didn't make him feel any better.
Ignoring the ringing phone in the CID office and then his own, Horton trawled his mind, going back over the events of yesterday before Lee had been sent in and Bliss shoved out. What had happened before then to warrant such drastic and prompt action from the Intelligence Directorate? He'd said to Cantelli that he suspected Lee's arrival was due to the fact that although Bliss didn't want him to investigate Irene Ebury's death, someone wanted him to run with it. Now he knew who. But how could a nursing home involve such a heavyweight organization as the Intelligence Directorate?
He ran through the sequence of events at the Rest Haven: Mr Kingsway's bellowing; climbing the stairs to Mrs Kingsway's room; his viewing of the room where she and Irene Ebury had slept; the trip to the basement…No, hang on. Slowly he put down his coffee. Of course! He'd looked out of the window of Irene Ebury's room and seen that curtain twitch in the house opposite.
He sat up, his mind racing, trying to grasp the significance of that, and then he recalled the burly man in a waxed jacket walking on the opposite side of the road. What an idiot he'd been! He should have seen the signs — hadn't he been on enough undercover operations to spot them? That nursing home had been under surveillance and still was for all he knew. But why? Whatever the reason, it had to be something big. And did that involve Daniel Collins? Yes. Otherwise why would DC Lee want to follow up his death and visit the sub-aqua club?
Horton delved into the papers on his desk and retrieved the road traffic report on Collins's death. Once again his phone rang, but he ignored it and the caller left no message. He read through the report carefully already knowing what he would find, or rather what he wouldn't. Nowhere did it mention that Daniel Collins worked at the Rest Haven and yet Lee had said he did. She had claimed that Mrs Collins had mentioned it on the telephone but had she? He could easily ask her. His eyes flicked to the clock and with surprise he saw it was almost ten thirty. It was too late to call her now. He didn't want to disturb her, though he guessed her nights were now already very disturbed.
Daniel had died on Christmas Eve, so had that been when the Intelligence Directorate had stepped in? Or had it been after Irene Ebury had died? Then another more chilling thought struck him. If there was any truth in this mysterious intruder that Mrs Kingsway had seen bending over Irene Ebury, had it been one of Lee's colleagues checking out Irene's belongings? For what though?
Horton rose and paced the floor, the blood pounding in his ears. Could their involvement have any connection with his mother? No, it wasn't possible. But the thought made him hot under the collar.
He wrenched opened the blinds and thrust back the window, letting the frozen air cut through him like a knife. Somewhere, amongst all that he'd learnt so far about the Eburys and Daniel Collins, was buried some vital piece of information that had connections to a major crime and he was missing it. So, too, was the Intelligence Directorate, otherwise why send Lee to work with him?
His phone rang and this time he snatched it up to find the custody clerk on the other end.
'I've been trying to get hold of you, Inspector. I heard you wanted to be informed about Nicholas Farnsworth.'
He'd forgotten all about him. 'Has he been booked in?'
'And out again.'
'Why? His breathalyser test must have been positive.'
'It was when he was pulled over, but it was negative when he was tested again here. We had to let him go.'
Horton cursed and rang off, then thought that it didn't really matter. He had other more important things to think about, and top of his list was fathoming out just exactly what the Intelligence Directorate was after at the Rest Haven Nursing Home and why the hell he was being kept in the dark.