Footsteps on the Shore dah-6

by Pauline Rowson

  With something akin to relief, Bailey said, ‘Oh, yes, of course. I used to during my lunch hour but I haven’t been over that way for years.’

  Truth? Bailey could have been there last Tuesday evening, but why would he want to meet Luke Felton when clearly he was terrified of him?

  Horton heard Cantelli’s tread upon the stairs. He entered the room with a slight shake of his head and a smile at Bailey.

  Horton rose. ‘If you recall anything more about the day you saw Luke Felton, please let us know.’

  Bailey quickly promised he would, clearly eager to get rid of them. Outside Cantelli heaved a sigh of relief. ‘He depressed me.’

  Horton was inclined to agree. ‘That description of Luke might have fitted hundreds of youths.’

  ‘The investigating team must have matched the clothes Bailey described with those belonging to Felton.’

  Yes, and found Natalie’s blood on them. ‘Did they contact the fishing boat and dredger crews? They might have witnessed something.’

  ‘I think that’s probably stretching it,’ Cantelli said, as Horton jotted down the vehicle registration number of a twelve-year-old maroon Ford parked in the narrow driveway of the 1950s semi-detached house. Cantelli was doubtless right and Horton didn’t like to return to ask Duncan Chawley, though if he dug deeper in the case file he might find records of it.

  Pointing the car in the direction of the station, Cantelli said, ‘It doesn’t help us find Felton, unless it was Bailey who Felton went to meet at Portchester Castle on Tuesday night.’

  ‘He looked very uncomfortable when I mentioned the castle, and I think he lied about not going there, but I can’t see why he should agree to meet Felton. He seemed rather terrified that Felton was out and might approach him. But run a check on his car, Barney, you never know, he might have been picked up for speeding in Castle Lane on Tuesday night.’

  ‘I doubt we’d be that lucky, but I’ll also check with the sailing club in case he owns a boat.’

  ‘I think the only boat he’d own would be the kind he’d put in his bath.’

  ‘You never can tell,’ said Cantelli optimistically.

  Maybe, but Horton was sure Cantelli was wrong on that score. As the sergeant swung into the station car park Horton noted Bliss’s car in its allocated space. That meant he’d have to brief her, but he had no sooner stepped inside his office than Bliss hove on to his horizon looking like Captain Sharkey about to execute one of his crew, and Horton guessed that the intended victim was him.

  ‘Do you know where I’ve been for the last fifteen minutes, Inspector?’ she blazed, slamming his door behind her. ‘With Chief Superintendent Reine, listening to how incompetent my team is and how you’ve compromised a high-level drug operation.’

  Horton had been expecting it. He remained silent as Bliss continued.

  ‘Your paperwork is shoddy and overdue, you do not adhere to proper procedure, you spend too much time interfering in other cases when you can’t solve the ones that you have, and clearly you have an issue with authority. I have therefore requested that you be removed from CID and posted to a more suitable position. Results are what we need in CID, not meddling and messing up critical operations.’

  Again Horton said nothing. There seemed no point in defending himself because clearly she wasn’t going to listen.

  Bliss continued. ‘DC Walters will also not be a member of my team. He’s too slow and idle. I was in two minds whether to keep Cantelli but I need some continuity, and Sergeant Cantelli will do as he’s told if he values his chances of promotion.’

  Promotion! Cantelli! The sergeant wanted that about as much as a dose of swine flu.

  ‘I’m putting in a request for some new officers. You’ll hear about your transfer shortly and tell DC Walters to expect his. From the beginning of April this team will be a very different one. Meanwhile you will attend to your paperwork. You will not get involved with Superintendent Uckfield’s murder investigation, and you will not make any attempt to locate Ronnie Rookley. You will find Luke Felton. Is that clear?’

  Horton nodded curtly and let out a long sigh as she swept from his office. If she had just calmed down she would have learnt of the possible connection between Venetia Trotman’s murder and Luke Felton. But she hadn’t even asked him to update her on any developments. Well, that was her lookout.

  He rose and walked briskly into the CID office. Without preamble he announced, ‘DCI Bliss has requested that I be removed from CID, along with you, Walters. But Cantelli gets to stay under the ice maiden while a whole new bunch of razor-sharp detectives are brought in to solve every crime in Portsmouth within two minutes flat, without moving from their desk and with immaculate paperwork to show for it. So, as this is my last case in CID, I want Luke Felton found and I don’t much care who we upset locating him. Which means, Barney, you might risk all future chances of being promoted, and the joy of working for DCI Bliss.’

  Cantelli shrugged. ‘Guess I could do with the exercise on patrol with you, Walters.’

  Walters almost swallowed the ginger nut biscuit he was eating. With his mouth full he said, ‘I’ve got Luke Felton’s prison medical file, guv.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Felton started his sentence at Winchester but he was transferred to the Isle of Wight after three weeks on medical advice, where he had hypnotherapy as part of his drug treatment. The woman who was treating him lived there and still does.’

  This sounded promising. ‘Nice of the authorities to accommodate him,’ Horton muttered, wondering why Luke had got such special treatment to be granted alternative medicine and a transfer. Could he possibly be on the Isle of Wight with his hypnotherapist? The island wasn’t accessible from Portchester Castle; or rather it was by private boat, but if heading to the Island then surely Luke would have wanted a lift to Portsmouth Harbour or Southsea where he could have caught the ferry or hovercraft.

  ‘The hypnotherapist is called Lena Lockhart,’ Walters continued. ‘I’ve got her home and office address, but she’s not at her office. I haven’t tried her home yet.’

  Horton knew he should ask the local police to interview her; that was what Bliss would say. But Bliss wouldn’t be his boss for much longer. And he might as well go out in style. He glanced at his watch.

  ‘I’ll pay her a visit,’ he said, knowing he was gambling on finding her in. She might be on holiday or with a client; she might know very little they didn’t already know about Luke Felton. But if Luke had contacted her then he didn’t want her prepared with some phoney story. And if Luke was there then he didn’t want him running off. Collecting his helmet and jacket he headed for the door, with Cantelli shaking his head after him.

  SIXTEEN

  A tall woman with long legs clad in tight jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt clasped to her small waist with a wide black shiny belt opened the door to him. She was in her late thirties, with long curly dark hair, chocolate-brown eyes and an attractive elfin face, and Horton didn’t blame Luke Felton for wanting to see her regularly. He reckoned most of the prison population must have jerked off the moment she walked through the gates.

  ‘I don’t see why I should betray a patient’s confidence,’ she said, waving him into a seat in the small flat which backed on to the railway line in Ryde. Out of the corner of his eye Horton could see the red and black former underground train drawing to a halt at the small station below them.

  ‘I didn’t know you were a doctor?’ he said.

  She flushed. ‘I’m a hypnotherapist,’ she declared defiantly, as though waiting for him to scoff. He didn’t. He told her he wanted to talk about Luke Felton, but he didn’t mention that Felton was out on licence or that he had gone AWOL, and she gave no indication that she knew this.

  ‘And you were helping Luke Felton with what?’ he asked.

  ‘It’ll be on his prison records.’

  ‘I thought you might help us save time.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Luke?’ Then her eyes widened and
her face paled. ‘Has something happened to him? He’s not killed himself?’

  Her slim hand flew to her perfectly shaped, red-lipsticked mouth. Beautifully manicured nails with red polish reminded him of Olivia Danbury, but her words reminded him of Ashley Felton, who also believed his brother capable of committing suicide. And that made him consider the body found in the harbour, before recollecting that Dr Clayton had ruled out suicide and that it was Luke. It was still possible that Luke, rejected by his brother and fed up with being treated like a prisoner at work, had got a lift from Shawford to Portchester Castle where he’d simply walked into the sea. But there were better places to do that — along Southsea seafront for starters, where he wouldn’t have had to wait three hours for the tide to come in.

  ‘Has he threatened to?’ Horton asked, curious. Walters had made no mention that Luke’s prison record had shown him to be depressed or suicidal.

  Lena Lockhart sank heavily on to the chair opposite Horton and said wearily, ‘I thought I’d helped Luke to get over his depression.’

  ‘What was the cause of it?’

  ‘Prison, I would have thought, wouldn’t you?’ she replied tartly, her brown eyes flashing.

  So she had a thing for Felton. And had Felton come here on his release? If he had he’d already moved on, because even though Horton couldn’t see into the bedroom his finely tuned ears and copper’s antennae didn’t detect anyone else being here except them.

  Sternly he said, ‘He was convicted of murder.’

  ‘Yes, but he didn’t do it. He didn’t kill Natalie Raymonds.’

  Horton smirked. ‘That’s what they all say.’ He wanted to provoke a reaction and he got one.

  She jumped up, glaring at him. ‘And sometimes it happens to be true.’

  ‘How can he remember?’ Horton interrupted incredulously. ‘He was out of his mind on heroin.’

  ‘Yes. But under hypnosis he didn’t recall it at all.’

  ‘Surely the drugs would have obscured his memory?’

  ‘No,’ she declared emphatically.

  Horton eyed her steadily for some seconds. She was adamant in her belief that Felton had been innocent. Was it just emotion talking? He had several unanswered questions about Natalie’s death himself; perhaps Lena Lockhart could help him get some answers.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said more gently, and genuinely interested.

  She eyed him sceptically. He’d have to try a little harder to convince her. Leaning forward he said, ‘I know nothing about hypnotherapy, so treat me as a complete idiot. Explain to me how it helped Luke and why you believe he didn’t kill Natalie Raymonds.’

  She hesitated for a moment, eyeing him warily, unsure whether to trust him. Then his sincere expression obviously made her decide she could. She resumed her seat, though she didn’t completely relax.

  ‘Hypnosis can help improve the psychological and physical well-being of an individual,’ she began a little warily. ‘In the case of drug addiction it can be used to help change a subject’s attitude and mental thought processes towards using drugs, reducing the urge to take them. Oh, I know it’s not been scientifically proven, but I’ve seen it work. And it worked with Luke.’

  Suddenly he saw that their relationship went further back than the Isle of Wight prison and even Winchester. ‘Did you help Luke on his drug treatment programme before prison?’

  She nodded. ‘After he was sentenced for the attack on an elderly lady, part of the condition of him being given a community sentence was that he underwent a drug treatment programme. I was living and working in Portsmouth then and I helped Luke handle his withdrawal symptoms. They were pretty severe. But Luke was determined to come off drugs and stay off. So I was surprised when I read that he’d been sentenced for killing that girl while on drugs. I contacted Winchester prison and offered to help him. He had just tried to kill himself so they were keen to invite me over. I knew the prison doctor, and he recommended that Luke be moved to the Isle of Wight where I could treat him.’

  ‘Go on,’ he encouraged when she stalled, wondering angrily why they’d only been given the edited highlights of Felton’s records and not the full story.

  Leaning slightly forwards she said, ‘What I try to do is change an addict’s thought processes so that he or she doesn’t feel the urge to use substances any longer. Through hypnosis, I attempt to modify behaviour by increasing and heightening mental awareness so that the addict is more inclined to receive suggestions and ideas. But before that I need to get to the core of the subject’s inner feelings, especially about themselves, and try and understand why they resorted to taking drugs.’

  ‘And what did you discover about Luke?’ His genuine interest must have encouraged her because she seemed to forget about client confidentiality. Or was it because she believed Felton was dead? Horton wasn’t about to enlighten her.

  ‘Luke was a middle child, and we all know what that means. Middle child syndrome. The middle child in a family of three often feels that he or she doesn’t quite belong. He has to fight to receive attention from his parents. The first child always has a special place in its parent’s affections and gets heaps of attention, love and protection. The second child gets some love and attention, but not as intense as the first child and only until the new baby comes along, then the middle child is suddenly sidelined for a younger sibling. The middle child feels it’s being ignored and becomes insecure. It feels out of place and can become troublesome, or a loner, as in the case of Luke. His elder brother, Ashley, was charismatic, confident, an achiever, and his younger sister, Olivia, the much yearned for girl, spoilt, cosseted.’

  And from what he’d seen of both Ashley and Olivia he thought that Lena Lockhart was correct in her assessment. Recalling Ashley Felton’s luxury apartment facing the harbour, Horton said, ‘Luke’s brother seems to have done very well for himself. He runs a recruitment company.’

  ‘I know, and according to Luke, Ashley was the apple of his parents’ eye. Good at sports, likeable, popular, and clever without even trying.’

  Horton wondered if Cantelli had managed to ask Charlotte about the Feltons. He’d not mentioned it, so Horton guessed not.

  Lena Lockhart was saying, ‘Luke was always urged by his parents to be more like his brother. He slogged for his A levels and got brilliant results, but at a cost — his health and nerves. And when he won a place at Oxford he thought his parents would be over the moon. Ashley had gone to university too but not Oxford, and he’d come out with a first-class honours in business studies. So Luke felt he had to match that. But Luke was reading history. His father, an accountant, couldn’t really see the point of it and told him so, and his mother kept saying how well Ashley was doing working for a blue-chip company as a management consultant at that time. Whether this was as bad as Luke portrayed I don’t know but it’s what he felt. Olivia, four years younger, was attractive, cooperative, enchanting and a budding actress.’

  Horton’s ears pricked up. He recalled his first meeting with Olivia Danbury and her vehement declarations that she had not seen Luke and never wanted to see him. At the time he’d thought her emotions were genuine unless she was a good actress; perhaps the latter was the case.

  ‘Did she go to drama school?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. She graduated in June 1997 and married Neil Danbury in September the same year, a week after Luke was arrested for the murder of Natalie Raymonds. Olivia blamed Luke for ruining her wedding and wrecking her career.’

  ‘I can understand her feelings about the wedding, but how could it have wrecked her acting career?’ Horton asked curiously.

  ‘Luke says she lost confidence. I guess she didn’t want the fact that her brother was a murderer dragged up every time she got a review.’

  And the media would drag it up, thought Horton. It was the kind of juicy titbit the public loved. Some actors or actresses wouldn’t have minded, perhaps even used it as a lever to propel themselves further into the limelight: the ‘look at tragic me’ and ‘how I
’ve overcome the shame of my family’. It would make good Sunday newspaper reading. But Olivia Danbury was obviously different.

  Lena said, ‘Perhaps she found being Mrs Danbury was a more lucrative and satisfying role. Neil Danbury’s done very well for himself. He took over Luke’s father’s firm when he died while Luke was in prison. Luke didn’t go to either of his parents’ funerals, though he would have been given permission to attend with a guard. He said he wouldn’t have been welcomed, and he didn’t want to bring more shame on his brother and sister.’

  All this was useful background, but it didn’t help him find Luke Felton. ‘So Luke cracked up.’

  ‘Yes. Once at Oxford the pressure really hit him. He never saw himself as clever and he found it difficult to fit in and to have relationships. He was the lump, the odd one out, the awkward one. And the more he was told that the more he became it, withdrawn, quiet, introverted.’

  Her words stabbed a painful memory in Horton of a particularly nasty piece of work he’d met when he’d been in the children’s home. A thin crow of a woman had delighted in telling him that his mother had walked out on him because he was useless, rebellious, no good, and a lot worse. It had taken months of patient confidence-building by his last foster parents to help him deal with the mental cruelty, but nothing could ever erase it. He gladly brought his mind back to Lena Lockhart as she continued.

  ‘Luke felt that nothing he did could ever please his parents, and with his inability to stay focused he drifted from one thing to another until he started taking drugs. I believe it was to get attention. Drugs were a cry for help. But it didn’t get him the help, or the understanding and sympathy he craved. Instead he got told how much more worthless he was than his brother and sister, so he slipped into deeper addiction and got into more trouble until the attack on that pensioner.’

  She leant forward, her expression keen. Horton could see her enthusiasm for what she did shining through. Or was that enthusiasm for one particular client, he wondered cynically.