Peter Bailey sat hunched over a cold cup of tea with a slimy skin on it in the interview room, looking forlorn and pathetic. Horton eyed him closely. His grey monk’s hair was damp with sweat and unkempt, his trousers were smeared with earth, and the fingers, which fiddled with his spectacles, showed traces of dirt under the nails.
Horton had discovered that Bailey’s mother was the pensioner Luke Felton had assaulted and robbed in 1995. Ethel Elmore had remarried after her first husband had died in 1963, when Bailey was twelve. He’d kept his father’s name. And if it was that simple, thought Horton, watching Bailey’s grubby fingers, then why hadn’t Superintendent Duncan Chawley made the connection in 1997?
‘Maybe he did,’ Cantelli had said, ‘but because Chawley had Luke Felton in custody and he’d already confessed he kept quiet about it. It was one case swiftly cleared up and a brownie point to him.’
Horton didn’t like it. It was sloppy work and threw into question Felton’s guilt.
Cantelli began the interview in a casual, friendly manner, almost as though he wasn’t particularly interested. ‘How did you lure Luke Felton into meeting you on the coastal path in 1997?’
Bailey eyed them both guardedly ‘I didn’t.’
‘No? Perhaps you took him there in your car then.’
Bailey shifted nervously but said nothing.
Cantelli smiled. ‘It’s OK, Peter, we understand. If he had done that to my mother I’d have wanted to get my own back and finger him for Natalie’s murder.’
Bailey’s head came up. ‘I didn’t. I saw him slouching along that path.’
‘And you did what?’ Horton interjected sharply, making Bailey start.
‘Nothing.’
Horton laughed derisively. ‘You expect us to believe that, the man who had attacked your mother?’
Bailey’s grey skin flushed. He replaced his glasses and studiously avoided eye contact.
Horton sat back and in a lighter tone said, ‘How often did you see Natalie Raymonds running along the coastal path?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Never? On all the occasions you went there to spy on the little terns?’ Horton said, feigning surprise.
‘No.’ Bailey fidgeted.
‘I think you did, Peter, and maybe that’s when the idea first struck you. You thought her a perfect victim, a good-looking girl, alone, regular in her running habits.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Bailey stared at each of them in turn with a bewildered air.
Relentlessly Horton continued, ‘Perhaps you even spoke to Natalie. Maybe you fancied her and she laughed at you or told you to push off. Hurt and humiliated, an idea began to form in your mind on how to get back at her and at the same time get revenge on the man who had hurt your mother.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Bailey said sullenly. ‘I saw Luke Felton the day that girl was killed. I’d never met her before.’
‘Maybe you didn’t mean to kill Natalie. You just meant to put that tie around her throat, squeeze it a little to make her unconscious and then leave Felton to take the blame for assaulting her, but when you felt the power you had over her a better idea sprang to mind. She wouldn’t be able to laugh at you again if she was dead and Felton would be convicted for her murder. And just to make sure, you came forward to say you’d seen him on the path. It was justice for what he did to your mother. But then Luke was released on licence and started remembering. He called on you and begged you to tell the truth. But you couldn’t have that, so you killed him. What have you done with his body, Peter? Buried him in the garden?’
Bailey’s eyes widened with horror. ‘I don’t know where he is. I swear it. I thought that. .’
‘Yes?’
Bailey’s body slumped. He stared down at his trembling hands and muttered, ‘He ruined our lives, Mother’s and mine. I couldn’t leave her after that.’
‘You wanted to?’ Cantelli asked gently.
Bailey’s tormented eyes swung up to Cantelli. ‘I’d been offered a job abroad but after the attack she became an agoraphobic. She never stepped outside the front door from that day until they carried her out in her coffin ten years later. That’s what Luke Felton did to us, and what did he get for his crime, for wrecking our lives? Community service.’ There were tears in his eyes now as he added, ‘It was pitiful. A disgrace. He was made to clear up litter along the shore at Portchester Castle. I saw him there one lunchtime when I was working at Hester’s. I wanted to confront him but I couldn’t. It’s just not in my nature.’ Bailey dashed a hand across his eyes.
‘So you arranged to meet him at Portchester Castle last Tuesday night with a view to killing him. Where did you take him, Peter?’
He stared at Horton, confused. ‘Nowhere. I didn’t meet him. I haven’t seen him.’ Suddenly the tears began to roll down his creased face. ‘My mother was the gentlest, most trusting woman you could find. She didn’t deserve what he did to her. He killed her as good as if he’d stuck a knife in her heart.’
‘And is that why you killed him, Peter?’ Cantelli asked softly.
Bailey stared at him with anguished eyes. He sniffed noisily and ran a hand under his nose. ‘No, but it’s why I lied. You’re right, I didn’t see Luke that day. I made it up. I wasn’t anywhere near the coastal path. I was at home with my mother.’
And if Bailey was now telling the truth, where did that leave them? thought Horton. And where did it leave the original investigation? With a ruddy great hole in it.
Bailey began to gabble. ‘I didn’t think my evidence would help to convict him. I thought the police would find out before it got that far, but then Felton admitted the crime. I thought he must have been there. Everyone said he did it. I didn’t feel guilty. I remembered what he had done to my mother and thought that at last I’d got some kind of justice. I put him out of my mind until you showed up asking questions and I thought he might have remembered something about her murder and discovered I’d lied. I thought he might come after me.’
‘Maybe Felton did come after you, and you killed him,’ pressed Horton, quietly this time.
Bailey forced his head up with an effort. ‘No.’
‘He knew you’d lied and he wanted revenge for the years he’d spent inside. You had to kill him. Maybe it was self-defence. A jury would have sympathy with that.’
Bailey was shaking his head. ‘I haven’t seen him.’
Horton gave Cantelli a sign to continue. ‘Where were you last Tuesday from six o’clock onwards?’
‘At home.’
‘Can anyone vouch for you?’
Bailey looked thoroughly dejected. ‘No.’
After a moment Cantelli said brightly, ‘Been gardening, Peter?’ He jerked his head at the dirty fingernails.
Bailey blinked at the change of subject and stammered a reply. ‘I stumbled into a bramble.’
‘In your own garden!’
‘I didn’t have my spectacles on.’
Bailey looked at them both with pleading in his fearful eyes. Horton said, ‘We’ll search your house and garden.’
‘You’ll find nothing.’
The truth or a lie? Horton told Bailey he’d be held on suspicion of the murder of Luke Felton while they conducted a search of his premises. Bailey made no protest, he didn’t even ask for a solicitor or a warrant, but granted them permission to go ahead with a dumb inevitability that Horton found depressing.
Outside Cantelli said, ‘Could he have killed Natalie Raymonds?’
It was a question that Horton had been asking himself during the interview. Was Bailey capable of such a crime, and one that had required careful planning? The answer was yes. Bailey had been a design draughtsman, which meant he had an eye for detail, and he had a powerful motive.
‘If he did, then unless he admits it we’ll not be able to prove it. We might get lucky with the search, though, and find evidence to connect him with Felton’s disappearance. And we might even find Felton’s body. I’d like you on the search, Barney.’
Their conversation had taken them back to the CID office where Walters had returned footsore, wet and in bad humour. ‘The old lady they were burying on Friday was a Margery Blanchester, she was ninety-one,’ he said, throwing himself down in his chair with a heavy sigh. ‘None of the funeral directors match the description the gravedigger gave me, and I can rule out five of the eight mourners because three are women and the other two are men in their seventies. I’ll do the rest tomorrow.’
Horton consulted his watch and was surprised to see it was just after six, but there was someone he wanted to see before calling it a day and he wanted Cantelli with him.
‘Why do you want to interview Julian Raymonds?’ Cantelli asked, as they headed out of the city towards Hayling Island.
‘If Chawley didn’t check that Bailey was related to the pensioner Felton attacked, then what else didn’t he check?’
‘Raymonds’ alibi?’
‘Possibly, and even if Chawley knew Bailey was lying and kept silent to get a conviction it’s shoddy work, and it means we can’t trust a single thing in that case file, except the pathologist’s report. Chawley told me he’d checked Natalie’s background and looked for links between her and Luke, but how can we be sure? There’s nothing in the file I’ve read to indicate any of Natalie’s friends were interviewed, and there’s no record of where she went to school, where she worked, nothing. And if we put that with Lena Lockhart’s testimony and the missing tapes then we’ve got a very different case on our hands. One that needs reopening.’
‘I don’t think Olivia Danbury will be too pleased about that.’
Or her arrogant and overprotective husband, thought Horton, and neither, he suspected, would Julian Raymonds be.
The door of Raymonds’ house was opened by a well-groomed blonde woman in her early forties. Cantelli swiftly made the introductions in the pouring rain.
‘This is about letting that killer out of gaol, isn’t it?’ Mrs Raymonds snapped. ‘I don’t want Julian upset. He’s been under a lot of pressure and his health’s not good.’
Horton tried a sympathetic look. He said nothing and neither did Cantelli. With an irritable sigh she was forced to admit them and they followed her neat little figure down the hall into a gleaming white living and dining room that made Horton wish he’d brought sunglasses. It reminded him of what Catherine had done to what had once been his home.
Sitting hunched over a laptop computer was a thin, balding man in his fifties with several papers spread out around him. Beyond him, Horton could see the lights of Portsmouth across the dark expanse of Langstone Harbour.
‘It’s the police,’ Mrs Raymonds announced briskly.
Raymonds looked up, more alarmed than upset. Mrs Raymonds had been right though; her husband didn’t seem in the best of health. Horton wondered what was wrong with him. His troubled eyes flitted warily to Horton and quickly away again. For a moment there was a brief flash of colour on his hollow cheeks before it faded once more into greyness.
Politely, Horton said, ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Mr Raymonds, but I need to ask you a few questions about Natalie.’
Raymonds lowered the lid of his laptop. ‘It’s all in your files. I’ve nothing to add.’
‘We have new evidence showing that Luke Felton might not have been alone when your wife was killed.’ And the person with him, thought Horton, could still have been Peter Bailey.
Raymonds’ eyes flicked up to his wife, who was standing ramrod straight, arms folded, lips pursed, glaring at Horton. She caught her husband’s glance and gave a slight shake of her head.
Catching it too, Cantelli said, ‘Any chance of a cup of tea, Mrs Raymonds?’
She looked as though she was about to tell Cantelli what he could do with his tea, but whether Cantelli’s charming smile or the slight nod from her husband changed her mind, Horton didn’t know. She huffed out of the room with Cantelli following. If anyone could charm her then Cantelli could. And at the same time pump her for information.
Horton took the seat opposite Raymonds. ‘Did you ever hear Natalie talk about a man on the coastal path? A birdwatcher, about late forties, looked older, medium height, slender build, wearing spectacles?’
Raymonds shook his head but Horton saw anxiety in his tired eyes. Horton prompted, ‘She might have made fun of him, joked about him trying to chat her up.’
‘She never said.’
Horton hadn’t really expected any other answer, but he sensed a hint of unease — and something more — underlying Julian Raymonds’ manner. What was it: concern, anger, resentment, fear? He said, ‘How often did she run along the path?’
‘When she felt like it.’
‘There wasn’t a regular time then?’
‘Not really. It depended on the weather and what she was doing that day.’
That didn’t necessarily mean Bailey hadn’t selected her as his victim. He could have seen her on several occasions on the path. But if he hadn’t, as he claimed, then who else had wanted Natalie dead, and why? And who wanted Luke Felton to pay for it? Julian Raymonds?
Eyeing Raymonds closely, Horton said, ‘Is there anyone who would have wanted Natalie dead?’
Raymonds bristled. ‘I know what you’re driving at but I can tell you I didn’t kill her. I had only just married her, for God’s sake.’
‘Maybe you made a mistake. It was a whirlwind romance.’
‘I loved Natalie,’ Raymonds insisted, but his statement rang false. Horton kept his gaze on the thin, stooping man, not allowing his excitement to show. He knew he was on the edge of learning some new and vital piece of information that could turn this case around. After a moment Raymonds sighed. Horton wondered if he was about to hear a confession.
‘Oh, what does it matter now? You might as well know the truth. I thought Natalie loved me, but she only loved my money, which will soon be gone along with this house. I’m bankrupt, cleaned out. Not that that’s Natalie’s fault. The recession finished me off. I didn’t realize until I married her what really turned her on: money and power. I had both then, and connections with some influential people. Natalie loved that.’ He ran a hand over his face. Horton could hear the soft rumble of voices coming from the kitchen.
After a moment Raymonds continued in a flat weary tone, ‘Natalie had affairs. She was having one when she was killed, but I’ve no idea who with.’
Horton’s pulse quickened. At last the truth. So much for Chawley’s investigation. ‘How do you know that?’ he asked keenly.
‘Because she was different. She always was when it was going on. Brighter, happier and more passionate. I thought like the other affairs it would pass. I turned a blind eye because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. When she was killed I was devastated. I thought that maybe a jealous wife or partner had killed her, but when Luke Felton was arrested, I was surprised. He wasn’t her type. For a start he didn’t have money or power. And Natalie would never have had an affair with someone so scruffy, or a drug addict.’
And that ruled Bailey out too, certainly of being Natalie’s lover. But he did have that motive for wanting to destroy Luke Felton, and Raymonds had one too. As though reading Horton’s mind, Raymonds added, ‘And if you think that gives me a reason for killing Natalie, then I can tell you there were several witnesses who can swear I was at the boat show when Natalie was murdered.’
Mrs Raymonds burst into the room, with Cantelli, sipping at a mug, in tow.
‘If you’re going to accuse my husband of such a vile act then you can charge him, and we want a solicitor present,’ she cried.
‘Leave it, Sharon,’ Raymonds said, waving away his wife’s protests. To Horton he said, ‘I’ve kept silent about Natalie’s affairs because no one asked me about them. Superintendent Chawley had Luke Felton for her murder, the evidence seemed overwhelming and he confessed to it.’
‘Can you tell me anything about her lover, anything at all?’ Horton hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.
But Raymonds shook his head.
‘What about previous lovers?’ asked Cantelli, quickly picking up on Horton’s conversation with Raymonds.
‘I’ve no idea who they were. I didn’t want to know.’
Angrily, Sharon Raymonds interjected. ‘It all happened a long time ago. My husband is ill, we don’t want it raked up for the newspapers to splash all over their front pages again. Natalie is dead and good riddance, I say. Whoever killed her did us all a favour.’
‘Sharon!’
‘It’s true,’ she declared. ‘All right, so I shouldn’t have said that about wishing her dead, but she used you, Julian, and made your life hell.’
Horton said, ‘Did Natalie take drugs?’
‘No,’ Raymonds answered without hesitation. ‘She valued control too much, which was why she enjoyed using men, she had emotional and sexual control over them. And she wouldn’t do anything to destroy her body or looks.’
‘Did she ever deal in drugs?’
‘Not that I know of.’ He looked genuinely shocked.
There didn’t seem anything more Raymonds could tell them, and he was, Horton had to admit, looking very ill. He told Raymonds they’d need a statement at some stage and that there was a strong possibility the case would be reopened in light of new evidence. That made Raymonds look even worse. In the car he asked Cantelli what he’d got from Sharon Raymonds.
‘Julian Raymonds has cancer, is broke and she loves him.’
‘If this lover story is true, Barney, then Bailey certainly doesn’t fit the bill, and it’s as he claims, he saw an opportunity to put Luke in the frame for her murder after Superintendent Chawley had given his press conference asking for any sightings of a man in his twenties on the coastal path that day. He only half expected to be believed, not knowing that Chawley already had DNA and fingerprints. Luke was there, and with Natalie’s killer. Whoever killed her hadn’t counted on a false witness coming forward but wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth when it did. It wasn’t a spur of the moment murder, it was meticulously planned and premeditated, it had to be to implicate Luke. So Natalie must already have told this lover the affair was over but agreed to see him one last time. He brought a drugged Luke Felton with him in his car or on his boat on the high tide, which is why Luke kept mentioning water and bailing. It must have been a small boat to get up on to the shore and perhaps the water got in. Bailey said the tide was up when he was bird watching, and he’s correct, high water was at two twenty-nine p.m. on the nineteenth of September 1997. Which means the killer could have access to the shore between twelve thirty and four thirty. Let’s say he came in the boat at three thirty or even four o’clock, killed Natalie and left a drugged Luke there to take the blame.’
Cantelli took it up. ‘He becomes aware of his surroundings after it grows dark, stumbles over the body and gets his DNA all over Natalie and blood on his clothes, and staggers on to the coastal path-’
‘Sees the gate, which is directly opposite-’
‘And then somehow makes his way back to Portsmouth.’
‘He wasn’t picked up until the Monday in Southsea and it was clear he’d been sleeping rough. He didn’t catch the ferry so perhaps he hitched a lift. Or. .’ Horton paused before voicing the thought that had occurred to him earlier. ‘Perhaps Natalie’s killer took Felton back to the Portsmouth shore in his boat and dumped him there. But who was her lover, Barney? It has to be someone with money or power, or both according to Raymonds, and someone who knew Luke Felton.’
‘Ashley Felton had money and power.’
‘But he was working in Germany.’
‘I haven’t had time to check that yet. He could be lying. Though I can’t see him wanting to frame his brother and destroy his parents. What about Neil Danbury? I haven’t met him, but I’ve seen his house and there’s a lot of money there.’
‘Not in 1997 there wouldn’t have been.’
‘But he inherited Neville Felton’s practice. He could have had a fling with Natalie, who threatened to tell all before the big day. Perhaps she was going to waltz into the church at that moment when the priest says “Does any man know any just cause or impediment why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony?” That would have put the kibosh on his future career. He kills Natalie, frames Luke because he’s already got a criminal sentence, and then inherits the business from his father-in-law.’
‘I’d warm to that version,’ Horton said, recalling his interview with Danbury at the police station. ‘And I haven’t forgotten Edward Shawford. He could have been Natalie’s lover, though I don’t see him having the brains to plan her death and frame Luke Felton for it, or having money and power.’
‘That’s because you’re prejudiced.’
Horton grunted acquiescence. He wondered though how Shawford would have known Luke in 1997. But then what the devil did he know about Shawford’s past anyway? He only knew of his present sexual tastes: sadomasochism.
Horton sighed. ‘It’s late, Barney. Let’s sleep on it.’ Tomorrow they might get some fresh evidence from the search of Bailey’s premises and car. And tomorrow he’d re-interview Edward Shawford.