‘We’ll talk outside,’ she said, grabbing a packet of cigarettes and her coat, leaving the three boys sitting in front of the television. She looked paler, thinner and was clearly more agitated than on his previous visit.
They stood in the small courtyard as the traffic on the main road ground past them. Sundays were rapidly becoming one of the busiest shopping days of the week, particularly in the run up to Christmas. In half an hour though the shops would be shut, the dark was already descending and it was only just on three thirty.
‘We’ve found Graham’s van,’ Horton announced solemnly.
Her head came up and her eyes narrowed. ‘Where?’
‘The Isle of Wight.’
She eyed him, surprised. ‘What the bleeding hell was he doing there?’
‘I thought you might be able to tell me that.’
She lit her cigarette. ‘I have no idea. Where is he?’
‘He wasn’t in the van. Moira, he’s not coming back,’ Horton added gently.
She exhaled and her eyes held his for a moment before dropping. She shuffled her feet as though cold, drew on her cigarette and then looked back up at him. ‘Will they make it official, that he’s dead. Only I’ve read if there’s no body you have to hang around and wait years until you can get a widow’s pension. Well, what am I supposed to do,’ she declared angrily. ‘I’ve got three kids to feed and they can’t live on fresh air, not that there’s much of that around here.’ And she coughed as though to prove it. ‘I’ve only got the kids benefit to live on and that’s bugger all. There’s no food in the house and that tight-arsed copper told me that if I thought of selling the story to the newspapers then whoever got Graham might come after me and the kids.’
‘Which tight-arsed copper?’ Horton asked, wondering for a moment if she meant Bliss.
‘I don’t remember his name, dark hair with sharp evil eyes.’
So not Bliss but Adams. The description didn’t quite fit but it was him all right.
‘What did he tell you about Graham?’
‘Said he was a grass. I laughed in his face and the tart that was with him.’
Adams must have come here with DCI Natasha Neame. Not that Horton knew what she looked like but a ‘tart’ was any woman Moira didn’t like or trust, and that was most of them.
‘Did he say what Graham was meant to have grassed about?’
‘No. Just that he’d met some nasty bastards in the nick who had contacts and he didn’t want anything to happen to me or the kids.’
So Adams had put the fear of God into her. Maybe he genuinely believed she was at risk if Langham had grassed up a big time villain but Horton thought it more probable that Adams had been checking to see if Graham had told his wife anything. Horton wondered if her flat was under surveillance, if so Adams would have seen him arrive. He’d soon know if it was.
But Moira also had a point about her financial situation. Whatever benefits Graham Langham had been receiving would stop. Horton didn’t know if she would be entitled to a widow’s pension, but clearly she would need help whether or not Graham was found dead or declared dead. Graham hadn’t been much, but it was going to be tough for her and the kids and he didn’t want any of them stealing to help make ends meet.
He said, ‘Graham went out on a job on Saturday night. We have evidence, Moira, that he stole from some properties in Fareham.’
‘Yeah, well you can’t nick him for that, can you?’ she sniped.
‘How did he seem when he returned?’
She shrugged and drew on her cigarette.
‘It might help us to find his body and speed up that widow’s pension.’
She looked at him distrustfully but then seemed to see sense in what he said. ‘He was hyper. Came banging into the flat, making a noise and singing. I bawled at him to shut up or he’d wake the kids.’
And her bawling wouldn’t have helped matters but maybe the children were immune to it.
She said, ‘I thought he’d been drinking. He acted like it but he didn’t smell of drink. He said we’d be in the money, no more worries. I said what the hell was he on about, told me to wait and see. I said, oh yeah, I’ve heard that before, what you done, won the bleedin’ lottery? He said better than that.’
He’d seen or heard something then as Horton had suspected. ‘And on Monday when he went out did he say anything about being in the money? Please Moira it’s important you tell me.’
She sighed. ‘He said he’d be out all night but that when he came back we’d be OK, only the bugger never did come back. What did you find in the van?’ she asked, slightly nervously.
‘Some tools and a lawnmower.’
She looked relieved and drew on her cigarette. ‘When can I have the van back?’
‘When we’ve finished with it.’
‘Hope that’s before Christmas. I need the money.’
She wouldn’t get much for it, a couple of hundred pounds if she was lucky but then to Moira that was a small fortune. He took out his wallet and plucked out some notes.
‘I ain’t no grass,’ she cried, recoiling as though it was poison he was offering her, but he could see her eyeing the money keenly.
‘It’s for food for you and the kids. To help tide you over and I’ll get someone from the Citizens Advice Bureau to contact you tomorrow morning, they’ll be able to help you with vouchers for the food bank and with applying for any additional benefits.’
She hesitated for a moment then her thin hand snaked out and she grasped it. She didn’t thank him.
Horton headed for the station hoping she wouldn’t spend the money on booze and fags. He immediately made for Uckfield’s office and told him that Adams had visited Moira and relayed what Moira had said about Langham being hyper and his theory that he’d gone to the island to meet someone he’d seen and spoken to the night he’d illegally entered Borland’s house.
Uckfield agreed to get a team into Westerbrook’s apartment block to try and determine if anyone saw Westerbrook on Saturday and the Monday and Tuesday before his fishing trip. The search around Langham’s van hadn’t discovered his body but it would resume in the morning and the van had been taken to the forensic workshop in Shanklin.
Horton returned to his office where he turned his attention to Carolyn’s mystery boyfriend, Dr Rufus Anstey. He ran his details through the computer. He was clean, no criminal convictions. Then he entered his name in an internet search engine and discovered he was a lecturer at the university. Horton clicked on the university’s website and was soon reading that Anstey was a senior lecturer in history, at the School of Social, Historical and Literary Studies, specializing in the British Empire, national identities abroad, social and cultural history, the occult, magical beliefs and myths, witchcraft, the supernatural, superstition, and science fiction. It seemed an awful lot to specialize in and it didn’t sound as though he was one of Eames’ men but then you never could tell.
The photograph of Anstey on the university website matched with the man he’d seen. Perhaps he should tell Anstey that his girlfriend had slept with him, and see what reaction he got? Perhaps Anstey was under the illusion that Carolyn only had eyes for him. Or perhaps their relationship was an open one. Whatever it was, Horton wasn’t interested in being second fiddle or sharing her with anyone else. Maybe some men could handle casual sex. He wasn’t one of them. His mobile phone rang and he saw with excitement that it was John Guilbert.
‘I’ve got three photographs from Violet Ducale,’ he announced.
Horton’s heart leapt into his throat.
‘They’re of the twins taken in their teens. I’ll scan them and email them to your phone but it’ll have to be tomorrow. I’m tied up with a case tonight.’
Horton curbed his impatience with difficulty. He was grateful to Guilbert for his help and said as much. He had to ring off because his office phone was ringing and Horton could see from the display that it was Uckfield. It was a summons to his office.
Uckfield wasn’t alo
ne. He nodded Horton into a seat around the boardroom table. Along with Uckfield was DI Dennings, DCS Adams and a woman whom Horton assumed was the ‘tart’ Moira had mentioned though she looked anything but. She was a brunette with an oval perfectly made-up face and clear complexion, about late thirties, dressed smartly in black trousers and a black top with a casual red jacket hanging over the back of her chair. She wore a wedding ring and small opal ear studs. Horton thought of Bliss who would have eyed her up as the competition. Bliss would be highly hacked off tomorrow when she learned so much had happened on her weekend off.
Uckfield introduced the woman as DCI Natasha Neame.
Adams addressed Horton, ‘What did Moira tell you?’
Horton didn’t look at Uckfield. He didn’t think the Super had told him about his visit there. It was as he had suspected, Moira’s place was under surveillance.
‘She didn’t tell me anything. I told her that we’d located her husband’s van.’
‘How did you know where to find it?’ Adams’ tone was light but his eyes held suspicion and his lips were set firmly.
‘I didn’t know. I just put some of the information I’d been told together and thought it was possible.’
Neame spoke, ‘What information?’
They think I’m involved. But in what he wondered? Not mutilation and murder, surely? Possibly smuggling. Crisply he began to count off. ‘One, everything centres around Fareham Marina: Langham, Westerbrook, Nugent and Borland. Two, why had Graham told Moira they were going to be hitting the big time?’
‘So she did tell you something,’ Adams almost sneered.
‘The first time Sergeant Cantelli and I visited her, she said he was in good spirits.’ He wasn’t going to reveal she’d repeated it and embellished on it, not until he knew where this was heading. ‘Three, we know that Westerbrook is a heavy gambler and that he has lost a great deal of money that has come from somewhere. Four, since coming out of prison he’s managed to buy a car and a boat with cash and his boat is equipped with the latest state-of-the-art and very expensive navigational equipment. Five, he’s supposed to be a keen fisherman but there’s no evidence to back that up except one photograph of him with a fish. Six, his boat trips include several to France and across the Solent and to the Isle of Wight. And seven, Borland used binoculars not only in that front bedroom where he died but he also took them out with him. He witnessed something and I believe it was Westerbrook bringing in illegal immigrants or girls for the sex trade. Langham also saw this or overheard someone talking about it, possibly Borland and Westerbrook, and wanted a cut. Knowing Langham like I do he thought he could muscle in. He was asked to meet Westerbrook and possibly his accomplice or rather someone working with Westerbrook at the rendezvous point, which was plotted on Westerbrook’s GPS, that cove on the Isle of Wight. When I knew that Langham had taken his van over I was even more convinced I’d find it there.’
Adams didn’t look very happy about all this but that was his problem. Horton said, ‘You didn’t suspect Westerbrook of being involved with Langham but he is.’
Adams’ expression remained stoical but there was, Horton thought, a glimmer of unease in his eyes and tightness of anger about his mouth.
‘We thought it best to let Langham run. We didn’t know it would lead to his death or that Westerbrook would die of a heart attack.’
Bullshit thought Horton. Adams had had no idea.
‘And it’s not people trafficking, it’s drugs.’ Adams added crisply.
‘And you know who’s behind it?’ Horton asked, surprised that it was drugs.
‘Jacob Crowe.’
Horton wracked his brains trying to place him but couldn’t. Neither could Uckfield and Dennings judging by their expressions.
Adams continued. ‘Crowe is a drug dealer, who we believe still holds the reins from inside. He was arrested and convicted five years ago. We broke his drug routes but he wouldn’t name his confederates and we don’t know where the money he obtained, and probably still receives from his illegal activities, is stashed. He got fourteen years, and he’ll be released next year having served six if he keeps his nose clean, and he has until now, at least on the inside.’
Neame took it up. ‘Crowe was in Winchester Prison for three years when Langham was serving time there. Then Crowe was transferred to the Isle of Wight prison where Westerbrook was serving time. Westerbrook was a Category C prisoner so did his time in the lower security wing while Crowe was and still is in Category B with higher security but it’s a training prison, we think they came across one another.’
So when had that idea occurred to them, wondered Horton? Possibly only two hours ago when Uckfield had informed Adams about finding Langham’s van and Uckfield had told them Westerbrook must be involved. Horton was still convinced they’d had no idea of that before then but if Crowe was the brains behind this then it would explain where Westerbrook’s money had come from.
Adams said, ‘It’s possible that Crowe told Westerbrook he’d have a lucrative business lined up for him when he came out, if he did as he was told. All Crowe had to do was give his girlfriend, who visits him regularly, Westerbrook’s name and Crowe’s contacts on the outside would easily find him. Westerbrook went along with it because of his heavy gambling debts.’
But that didn’t explain why Westerbrook had only been given the money for the car and boat a year ago and not immediately or soon after his release. Perhaps Crowe had wanted one of his minions to suss Westerbrook out first, make sure he was sound before coughing up.
Adams said, ‘Crowe also recruited Graham Langham when he was in Winchester.’
‘Crowe’s been very busy,’ Horton said sarcastically.
Adams narrowed his eyes. ‘When Langham was released he decided to inform.’
‘But he didn’t tell you about Westerbrook or the drugs?’
‘No.’
So what had he told them, wondered Horton? Judging by the expression on Uckfield’s craggy features he was thinking the same. Horton said, ‘Why would a big time villain like Crowe enlist the services of a petty crook like Langham never mind confide in him.’
Adams ignored the question. ‘Langham decided to play it both ways, he wanted to inform but it appears he’s been working with the drug runners. Despite what you think you know of Langham he was tied up in this and he killed Leonard Borland. His fingerprints are under the electric fire. The fingerprint bureau has confirmed it.’
Horton didn’t bother to hide his surprise. He was convinced that Langham couldn’t have dragged Borland’s body and placed it on that fire. ‘The timing’s wrong. The fire was started on Tuesday just before six fifty-three and Langham was already dead then.’
Neame said, ‘How do we know that? Dr Clayton can’t confirm exactly when that hand was amputated.’
‘His van was on the six o’clock sailing to the Isle of Wight on Monday and it never returned.’
‘He might have done. By boat, Westerbrook’s boat,’ Adams answered crisply.
‘Then where was he all day Tuesday after clubbing Leonard Borland on the back of the head before shoving his body over that electric fire?’
‘Langham spent the day with Westerbrook.’
Horton still couldn’t buy it. ‘But why would Langham return to Fareham Marina with Westerbrook, leave his van on the Isle of Wight and hang around all Tuesday before killing Borland?’
Tersely Adams said, ‘Because he was told to. Just as he was instructed to kill Leonard Borland who, as you say, Inspector, had probably witnessed what was happening at the marina.’
Adams was trying to make it fit but it didn’t. ‘Firstly I don’t believe Langham is a killer, secondly he wouldn’t meekly stay on board Westerbrook’s boat all day, he’d use the opportunity for more thieving—’
‘Not if he didn’t have his van,’ Neame said.
‘And thirdly,’ Horton continued, ignoring her, ‘How did Langham get away after supposedly pushing Borland over that fire.’
Dennings answered. ‘He went back on board Westerbrook’s boat where he was killed. Nugent could be involved. He works in a butcher’s, he obtains the knife. Between them they kill and dismember Langham but the hand gets left behind. When they go fishing the next day they find the hand still on the boat. They aim to throw it over the side then one of them thinks if they stuff it in a container and pretend to find it we won’t think it’s them and the fingerprints found in Borland’s house will prove that Langham is the killer. Westerbrook loses his nerve though, and he goes on the run by boat.’
‘Not to where he ended up,’ Horton interjected. ‘That leads nowhere.’
Ignoring him Dennings continued. ‘He tells his contact he wants out, and gets beaten up for his pains and suffers a heart attack. Nugent gets scared and goes on the run.’
‘No, I don’t buy it.’
Crisply Adams said, ‘Whether you do or not, Inspector, is of no consequence. When we find Nugent, who has gone missing, we’ll ask him. As far as CID are concerned, Inspector, this investigation is no longer your remit. DCI Bliss will be informed of that tomorrow morning. You are not to see Moira Langham again or interview anyone connected with the case, and neither are any of your officers. The Major Crime Team will work with my team on gathering the evidence and locating Nugent.’ Adams nodded his dismissal.
So that was it, thought Horton, they had it all figured out. He returned to his office to collect his helmet and jacket. It all fitted if you stretched a few points here and there, but there were still many questions that needed asking and perhaps between them the Major Crime Team and Adams’ lot would find the answers. Trueman would collate all the statements and conduct further research, and maybe Nugent, when he was apprehended, would fill in the blanks. Horton heard a car start up and looked out of his office window. Adams and Neame were leaving. Time he was too.
EIGHTEEN
Monday
‘Do you believe all that?’ Cantelli said the next morning, ‘Thought not,’ he added, reading Horton’s expression. But some new ideas had occurred to Horton during his restless night. He’d woken early, keen to put them to Uckfield, only to find that Uckfield was in a meeting and wouldn’t be available until mid-morning. Horton asked Trueman about the validity of Langham’s fingerprints under the electric fire.
Fatal Catch Page 21
