In the kitchen he turned on the kettle and opened the wall cabinet as though to retrieve two mugs. Leaving it open he also opened the tall fridge opposite so that it formed a barrier between them and the far wall and the door.
‘Fresh ground coffee is called for after what you’ve been through.’
He tipped some beans into a sophisticated looking coffee machine, and as soon as it was grinding nosily along with the kettle boiling he jerked his head towards the window. It slid open noiselessly and smoothly.
Marvik climbed out and assisted Strathen – it was more difficult for him given his leg, and he couldn’t crouch down low, but he managed well enough. Strathen indicated for Marvik to follow him, which he did across the wet lawn in the dark. They were heading towards the sea. In the cover of a small copse, Strathen paused and pulled out a slim torch. He opened the holdall. Inside was a laptop computer. He swiftly and expertly examined it and then the holdall and nodded the OK. They continued for another couple of hundred yards until they came to a hedgerow and a gate. Strathen unlocked it. Just beyond it to the right was a slip way and beside it were several kayaks.
‘This is mine,’ Strathen said. ‘Help yourself to one of the others.’ Together they pushed the specially adapted kayak down to the water where Strathen sat on the edge before easing his body and his prosthetic limb inside it. Marvik climbed into another kayak close by and put the holdall between his feet. Taking the paddles they struck out on to the water heading for the marina. It would have been an arduous journey for most but not for them. Marvik felt the months since he’d left the Marines slip away and he was back on a mission. He didn’t know what Strathen was thinking or experiencing but he’d bet it was the same sense of exhilaration.
Soon they were drawing alongside Marvik’s boat. The pontoons were deserted. They climbed on board, leaving the kayaks tied up on the pontoon. Marvik indicated the tracking device placed at the helm. Strathen nodded and together they went below. Strathen placed the laptop on the cabin table and switched it on while again Marvik indicated the listening device under the table. Marvik climbed back into the cockpit, started the engine and cast off. Some minutes later, as they headed east into the Solent, Strathen joined Marvik at the helm.
‘Only the two you know about but there could be another tracking device on the hull above the water line.’
‘Can we talk freely up here?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not bothered about being tracked, in fact it might tempt the killer out, but this time I’ll deal with him on my own. I take it you discovered something in the flat.’
‘The smoke alarm opposite the security alarm had been tampered with. It was slightly askew which means someone unscrewed it and placed something inside it. A listening device most probably along with a tiny security camera. I set the security alarm before chasing after Helen. Bloody stupid place to put the smoke alarm opposite, but then the builders didn’t have any reason to think anyone was going to be bugged.’
‘Was Mrs Handley and her lamp problem genuine?’
‘As far as she was concerned, yes. And it was broken, but the timing was immaculate. Either someone struck very lucky or it was staged. I think if I were to question her more closely I’d find that she let someone in who, while she was making them a cup of tea, sabotaged the lamp and mentioned me, so that when it went kaput, on a remote control timing device – she didn’t even have to switch it on – startling her, she immediately thought of me. Just as she did for any other odd jobs around the place. She’d been known to tell anyone who would listen, and even those who didn’t, that she liked to give that poor man who only had one leg something to make him feel he was still capable. They must have been watching me, as well as you, for some time.’
‘Because of Ashley Palmer.’
Strathen nodded. ‘Remember we discussed the impression of that Isle of Wight coastguard cottage address on the Post-it note in Ashley’s office and how convenient it was that I found it, and that Ashley might not have been fool enough to jot it down.’
Marvik nodded.
‘Well my mistake was not checking to find out if the Post-it note holder had always been on his desk. I’m betting it hadn’t, and that either Ashley, or someone else in the company or someone posing as a visiting rep or a cleaner, planted it there.’
Marvik was with him. ‘It contained a listening device.’
‘Yes. And by the time DI Feeny and DS Howe showed up, that listening device had vanished into thin air. Ashley could have been duped into taking it into the company himself. He might have been told to put it on his desk in an attempt to record any conversations to provide whoever he had confided in the proof that the faulty medical devices from seventeen years ago could be laid at the Shelleys’ door. Part of the plan was for him to write down the address he was given, pressing hard enough for it to be read. Whether he ever went to that cottage is another matter but he probably believed that someone would and the scandal would be exposed.’
‘He was met at Cowes and taken somewhere. Just as Charlotte was met at the Town Quay and taken away.’ Marvik stared out at the pitch-black heavy sea, his thoughts a swirling mass of anger. He had to get this killer and make him pay. And if there was no evidence against him then he’d dish up the sentence himself. He’d kill the bastard. But he wasn’t certain he or Shaun would ever be allowed to get that close. ‘What else did you find in your flat?’
‘There was a device under the wireless keyboard. It monitors keyboard strokes so that it can read passwords and logins. Everything is backed up off site and the passwords and login would have given our man access to all of it, which he could then have conveniently wiped off. But I didn’t log in, as you noted, and haven’t done so since that device was fitted so he won’t have access to it. I changed the password and username, a moment ago, on the laptop. He may still find a way in but I doubt it. Where are you putting in to?’
‘Chichester Marina. I’ll call Ross in the morning and go on to Littlehampton from there unless he agrees to come to me.’
‘They could be waiting for you at Chichester Marina.’
‘But they won’t do anything. It’s too public even at this time of the year. Someone in the lock control room or the yacht club might see something. No, they’ll wait until there are fewer around to witness an accident.’
‘I’d better not call a taxi from there to the Chesters in case anyone is watching the marina – and of course Crowder, or whoever has placed the tracking device, will know when you put in there. Put me off at Sparkes Marina.’
That was at the southernmost tip of Hayling Island and at the entrance to Chichester harbour.
‘I’ll make sure it’s clear before calling for a taxi to take me to Arundel. Crowder will see you’ve put in there and gone on to Chichester, so he might assume you needed to fuel up or changed your mind.’
‘Unless he’s responsible for putting that video camera in your apartment and knows we’re together.’
‘I’ll be gone from Hayling Island before he can get someone over to me and if he does I’ll certainly not lead them to the Chesters. I’ll work tonight. I might have something for you by tomorrow that can help with your interview with Duncan Ross.’
Marvik hoped so because tomorrow it would be a week since Charlotte had vanished and a week was far too long.
NINETEEN
Thursday
It was just before one o’clock when Marvik moored up at Littlehampton. He’d phoned Duncan Ross earlier that morning from Chichester Marina. He’d wondered if Ross would take the call but he was put through without question. He recalled their conversation.
‘It’s Art Marvik. We met at Littlehampton Marina on Saturday.’ Marvik thought it seemed a lifetime ago instead of only five days.
‘Oh yes, the man who was thinking of joining the Metropolitan Police.’
It was evident by his tone that he didn’t believe that, and that Ross had either got his name from the marina office and run a check on him, o
r he’d been given the information by someone else. Crowder or the killer? Or were they one and the same?
‘I’d like to talk to you about Bryan Grainger’s death.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve spoken to his sister. I think there’s something you should know. It might have a bearing on the case we were discussing.’
There was only a fraction’s pause before Ross answered. ‘I’ll meet you in the same place, one p.m.’
If Ross was involved in a cover-up over Esther’s death he was hardly likely to admit it and, just as Marvik’s meeting with Wycombe had prompted an attempt on his life, so could this encounter. But this time, as he’d said to Strathen, he’d be prepared. And they needed to force this killer out into the open.
There was no sign of Ross when Marvik reached his boat. The hatch was open though and Marvik called out. Only silence greeted him. Marvik surveyed the area. The pontoons were deserted. The chilly March wind was blasting down the river. Perhaps Ross had brought the dog with him and had slipped away for a few moments to take it for a walk. But surely Ross, a copper, wouldn’t leave his boat open and exposed to potential thieves. Marvik’s spine tingled. There was something wrong. He could feel it and smell it. He climbed on board, his backbone prickling, his senses alert. He peered down the hatch into the cabin. His eyes met Duncan Ross’s but there was no returning gaze and no smile of welcome, only the grimace of death.
Marvik swore softly and descended into the cabin. He eased his way carefully around the crumpled body. There was no need to test for a pulse but he did anyway. Ross’s flesh was cold but not icy which meant he hadn’t been dead for very long.
His eyes travelled over the suited body. Ross wore no outdoor jacket and the white shirt and maroon tie were still in place. There was no blood, no sign of a stabbing and no bullet wounds but around Ross’s throat were the tell-tale signs of strangulation. And by the way he was lying, on his back, whoever had killed him had done so from behind. Either the killer had been waiting inside the lounge or in the cabin beyond it – but if he had then he must have gained access to the boat either forcibly or with a key – or Ross had told his killer he had a meeting. The killer had met Ross here at the boat and they’d boarded together. Ross had let his visitor go down into the cabin first then, when Ross’s back was turned, the killer had struck. Judging by the thin, dark-blue mark around Ross’s throat it looked to Marvik as though he’d been throttled with a fine cord.
So where was the killer now? Waiting for him? Possibly, but not on board this boat. Perhaps Ross had been told that Marvik was to be the victim. Instead it had been the killer’s intention to frame him for Ross’s murder just as he’d framed Blackerman for Esther’s.
Marvik caught the sound of sirens in the distance. There was no time to lose. He leapt off the boat and sprinted to his own, knowing that somewhere in the car park or on the bank to his right the killer was watching him. He pressed the ignition at the helm. Nothing. He tried again. Shit! The sirens were growing louder. He didn’t have time to stay and be questioned by the police. Even if he did and explained the purpose of his visit and the fact he was investigating Esther Shannon’s murder and hoping to get some idea where Charlotte was being held and by whom, he could see his story being dismissed as ludicrous. The man who had murdered Esther Shannon was in prison. And Charlotte’s disappearance was much more likely to be laid at his door. After all he had been with her on Wednesday night. He had slept with her. Perhaps he hadn’t dropped her off at Town Quay but had dumped her body in the Solent. And he had been at that derelict coastguard cottage on Wednesday night when Ashley Palmer had gone missing. The police would claim that Charlotte and Ashley had been lovers and he had been jealous and had murdered them both. He was a trained killer. And what would they say of his motive for Ross’s death? His mind whirled as again and again he tried to start the engine. Someone would come up with a plausible motive, and his DNA and fingerprints were on Ross’s boat. And that had been the only evidence that had secured a conviction against Terence Blackerman.
The engine spluttered and died. The sirens were so loud now the police must be on the approach road to the marina. Should he abandon the boat and make for the shore, and return when the police had left? But no, they’d block the road and interview everyone who was around.
He tried again as the flashing blue lights came into view. At last! The engine sprang into life. He breathed a sigh of relief, cast off the only line at the rear holding him to the pontoon and, jumping on board, pushed up the throttle and swung out of the marina and into the river. He risked a glance back. There were no police on the pontoons but he could see activity at the marina.
Keeping strictly to the speed limit, not wanting to draw attention to himself, he motored slowly down the river towards the sea. Only once did he look back and see uniformed officers on the pontoon. It wasn’t until he was out to sea that he considered fully what had happened. Someone had given the police an anonymous tip-off. The killer most probably, and had the killer mentioned he’d seen a tall, muscular man with a scarred face climb on board the boat? You bet. Of course Crowder could back up his story but Marvik didn’t know if Crowder was straight. And Crowder knew he was here because Marvik had kept the tracking device on board the boat. Again Marvik considered if Crowder was the killer, playing a sick game to suck him in and frame him, just as he’d done with Blackerman seventeen years ago. Had that lift accidentally broken down or had it been deliberate? Marvik wondered. But the killer wouldn’t have known that Blackerman would sleep with Esther. No, that had been a bonus. And why had Esther got in that lift when according to Helen she’d been terrified of them? Had Blackerman told her something that had made her forgo her fears? Or perhaps she’d been feeling unwell and unable to face climbing the stairs. But that didn’t fit with her having sex with Blackerman.
He turned his mind back to Ross’s death. Who had Ross called after receiving his telephone request to meet? There had been a three-hour interval between that and their meeting. Ross had suggested the time, perhaps to allow long enough for the killer to arrive.
The boat bucked and rolled as Marvik ploughed through the rising waves being whipped up by the wind into whirls of grey and white foam. He thought back to Esther’s murder. She’d been strangled with a tie, Ross had been strangled with a cord. The methodology suggested the same man. Last night’s attempt to kill him and Helen by forcing them off the road didn’t fit that pattern but then the killer might simply have seized the opportunity. And now Ross was dead and Wycombe too could be in danger. Perhaps the killer had already dealt with him.
Marvik headed as quickly as he could for Chichester harbour but this time he stopped before he reached the marina and moored up at Itchenor. From there he ran to Wycombe’s house. He might be at home now that the trial in Portsmouth was over. Or perhaps he’d gone into his Chambers in London. Marvik needed to know.
There was no sign of the Mercedes on the driveway but it could be garaged. He pressed his finger on the intercom and waited anxiously. There was a CCTV camera mounted on the right-hand post giving a good view of anyone at the gate. Perhaps Wycombe was watching from behind his computer screen inside the house and was at that very moment summoning up the maniac who had tried to kill him and Helen last night, only this time requesting that he finish the job, just as he’d finished Duncan Ross.
Marvik pressed his finger again on the buzzer and kept it there for several seconds. He expected nothing so was surprised and pleased when a woman’s voice said, rather loftily, ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’d like to see Mr Wycombe.’
‘He’s not here.’
She sounded apprehensive, understandably so. She was probably wary of visitors she didn’t recognize.
‘Is he at Chambers?’
‘No. Who are you?’
Her nervousness increased. Time for a lie, thought Marvik. ‘I’m a colleague of Mr Wycombe’s. He engaged my company to discover certain information regarding a case he’s bee
n briefed to represent.’ Marvik had no idea the language barristers or private investigators used but he hoped it sounded authentic enough to convince the woman on the other end of the intercom. He continued. ‘I hoped to speak to him before he went to London. I heard that his case in Portsmouth had finished because of a change of plea to guilty.’
The buzzer sounded and the gates swung open. Marvik walked briskly up the driveway with heightened excitement. Just as he’d experienced on the pontoon at Littlehampton Marina he sensed something was also wrong here. And he’d heard it in the woman’s voice.
The door opened before he reached it to reveal a slender woman in her late-fifties, elegantly dressed in trousers and a tight-fitting jumper. She looked troubled and wary.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs Wycombe—’
‘My husband isn’t here,’ she cut him short, nervously playing with the necklace at her throat. Now he was closer he saw the strain around her mouth and fatigue under her blue eyes. Clearly she was very distressed.
‘Do you know where I can find him?’
‘I … I’m not sure. He left very early.’
‘Mrs Wycombe, is everything OK?’ He knew it wasn’t and that it was connected to what had happened last night, possibly even this morning. Did Wycombe know about Duncan Ross’s death? Had he killed him? Somehow Marvik couldn’t see the aloof barrister doing that but then the stakes were high. High enough perhaps for him to kill to prevent his secret from being disclosed and ruining his life.
‘Can I help?’ he asked with concern.
She pushed her hand through her short, highlighted blonde hair. ‘You say you’re working on something my husband’s involved in.’
He could see that she desperately wanted to confide in someone. His timing couldn’t have been better. He took an educated guess and answered, ‘Yes. The Esther Shannon case.’ She looked at him blankly. Clearly that meant nothing to her. He tried again. ‘It involves a man called Terence Blackerman.’ Bingo! Her eyes widened and then a shadow of fear crossed them. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her hesitate over whether or not to confide in him but he could see she had to tell someone what was troubling her.
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