Marvik was disturbed by that idea. It had occurred to him, but the more he thought about it the less it fitted. ‘If that’s the reason, surely they’d have found an easier way of killing Bradshaw to fit her up, if they needed to. Slitting someone’s throat is not the most common way women kill.’
‘But she has tried to cut her own wrists at some time,’ Strathen insisted solemnly. ‘And her medical records will show that. It might be why that method was chosen.’
Marvik didn’t like the idea any more than Strathen did.
Strathen continued, ‘Whoever is behind it thought that because of her past history it might look more natural for her to resort to using a knife as a murder weapon. And if they knew her medical history then it’s someone who knows her or went to the trouble of discovering it. Bradshaw could have been killed for the sole purpose of framing Helen.’
‘Perhaps there’s a connection between Helen and Bradshaw that she’s not told us about. Maybe they go way back. Or there’s someone in Helen’s past who is intent on destroying her for some reason. If she is being framed then what’s the betting someone will find some of her blood-spattered clothes? She could be the “target” Colbourne and Marwell were discussing as in the target being fitted up for murder rather than being killed. What did they say? “It’s dealt with. The target’s been taken out”. That could have been being rather than been and they sounded pretty confident there would be no comeback. They’d arranged for someone to watch her flat for her return, knowing that Bradshaw would follow her back there because he’d been paid to. Only she decided to leg it and that could also have been arranged.’
‘The shadowy figure she saw in the doorway opposite and the sense she was being followed.’ Marvik sat, considering this.
‘The killer might have stashed some of her blood-spattered clothes under the sink, where naturally she wouldn’t have looked when you told her to bring some with her.’
Marvik heard the shower stop.
‘Alternatively, maybe she did kill him. Could she have done it?’ Strathen posed.
‘No,’ Marvik firmly replied. ‘She didn’t call the cops while I was inside her flat with her. And the timing of their arrival fits much more neatly with her being framed.’
‘I can’t see her as a killer either, unless severely provoked or defending herself. If she’d killed him I think she’d have come right out with it and told us. She’s not one for hiding things.’
But did they really know that? Marvik wondered. Everyone had something to hide. He hadn’t mentioned finding that disk in Sarah’s belongings to Strathen or to Crowder. But he knew he would have to mention it to the former if he wanted to explore what was on it. It wasn’t his reluctance to trust Strathen that held him back but his fear of what he might discover on it. And he despised his cowardice. At one time he wouldn’t have given such an emotion so much as a toehold, let alone a bloody great grip.
Strathen’s voice pierced his tired thoughts. ‘I haven’t got much on Bradshaw, only that he’s been running Aquamarine for two years. It’s only one of his businesses under a holding company called Frankline Pace, registered address West Quay, Newhaven. He owns a yacht brokerage called Antara, which has offices in Newhaven, Eastbourne and Brighton, and a property company called Medlowes based in Eastbourne. He was doing well – good turnover and healthy profits. His death has been reported on the news and the Internet. But the name hasn’t been released. Maybe the police are still looking for the next of kin, or perhaps they’re just playing it close to their chests. Nothing about looking for Helen yet. But that might get leaked.’
The police would be questioning the tenants and one of them could put out on the Internet the fact that the body had been found in Helen’s bedsit.
Marvik said, ‘The police might not be the only ones looking for Helen.’
‘She’ll be safe here.’
Marvik knew that. He also knew that he didn’t have to spell out to Strathen that the killer might be looking for her in case he thought she could identify him.
He wondered what the police would make of not finding Bradshaw’s keys and mobile phone on the body. Would they suspect the killer had taken them, and that killer to be Helen? They would have obtained Bradshaw’s car registration from the vehicle licensing database by now and probably discovered his car parked on the seafront. Strathen would copy the information on Bradshaw’s SIM card across to his own phone or to his computer, and then destroy the card so that it wouldn’t be traced.
Marvik rose and stretched himself. ‘I’ve got to get back to Eastbourne and start asking questions.’ But he also needed sleep. Strathen offered him his bed, which Marvik gratefully accepted. Helen was in the spare room. He managed to grab five hours. Then, after a shower, shave and a change of clothes, he made himself a sandwich and took it into the operations room. It was late afternoon and the weather was closing in, but that didn’t worry him. He was ready to go. But first he needed to see what, if anything, Strathen had turned up while he’d slept.
‘The police announced at midday that they’re looking for Helen Shannon and Gavin Yardly, who they’d like to talk to in connection with the death of Eastbourne businessman Ian Bradshaw,’ Strathen said.
‘Yardly?’ Marvik said, surprised. ‘Then he wasn’t in his flat.’
‘Apparently not. And that last number Bradshaw called is a pay phone just off Eastbourne promenade.’
This didn’t look good. The speculative scenario Marvik had spun earlier about Gavin Yardly possibly being Helen’s accomplice who had killed Bradshaw out of jealousy now seemed to be carrying more weight.
Strathen said, ‘I can’t find anything on Yardly on the Internet. Either he doesn’t use social media or he does but under another name.’
‘Maybe Helen knows.’
‘Knows what?’ she said, entering. She looked less harrowed. Her make-up was in place and she’d changed her clothes, but still sported her customary black.
‘If Gavin Yardly used social media?’ said Strathen.
‘No idea. Why do you want to know that?’
‘Because he’s missing.’
She looked confused. ‘He can’t be. He was in his flat.’
‘When?’ asked Marvik.
She sat at one of the three desks in the operations room and pushed a hand through her hair. ‘Actually, the last time I saw him now I come to think of it was Thursday. We cleaned a boat belonging to a guy called Colin Prior. He was visiting the marina and wanted a quick job done. We finished at about five o’clock. I returned to the office.’
‘Without Gavin?’
‘Yes. He stayed on board with Mr Prior, who inspected our work. Gavin returned to the office ten minutes later. He said everything was OK. Mr Prior signed our worksheet. I went into town. I assumed Gavin went back to his flat. He wasn’t at work on Friday. I didn’t know he was taking a day off so I knocked on his door as usual but there was no answer. We always went into work together, by bus.’
And perhaps one of the tenants would have told the police that, which would again reinforce the theory that Helen and Gavin were more than just acquaintances or work colleagues.
Helen was saying, ‘When I got to the office, Glenda told me that Gavin had booked the day off. He didn’t say anything to me about it. I thought he must have forgotten to tell me or that perhaps it was personal and he didn’t want to explain. Not that I’d have asked him to.’
‘Did you see him over the weekend?’ asked Strathen.
‘No.’
‘Was that usual?’
‘Yes. Although sometimes we’d bump into one another in the hall. And I saw him go into the library once, about two weeks ago.’
‘And on Monday?’
‘Again, I knocked on his door. No answer. I thought maybe he had decided to stay over somewhere. Glenda was moaning like hell about him when I got to work. I don’t know why she was complaining when all she does is sit on her arse, answer the phone and dole out the jobs. I had two boats to clean – o
ne I did in the morning and the other in the afternoon. It took me longer because I was on my own. It was when I was leaving the office that Bradshaw crawled out of the woodwork, the creep. Sorry, I know he’s dead but …’ Her troubled glance swung between them. Resting on Marvik, she said, ‘What you said on the seafront this morning about Gavin being my accomplice – you don’t think the police will believe that?’
‘Is there anywhere he would have gone? Did he speak to you about friends or family?’
She was shaking her head. ‘There must be some perfectly reasonable explanation for why Gavin’s not around. He can’t have anything to do with this. He certainly couldn’t have killed Ian. He’s the least likely killer you could come across.’ A shadow touched her eyes. They both knew she was recalling the man who had been falsely convicted of her sister’s murder, a naval chaplain. She was looking increasingly worried.
‘Have you been in his apartment?’ Marvik asked.
‘No.’
‘Has he been in yours?’
‘Yes, twice.’
Marvik exchanged a glance with Strathen.
‘So? There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?’ she declared, seeing their glance.
‘Not if you’ve spring-cleaned the bedsit since his visit.’
‘And why should I do that? Christ, you mean fingerprints and DNA and all that crap? But that doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Not on its own,’ Strathen interjected.
‘Thanks, you’re a great comfort.’
‘When was Gavin in your flat?’ Marvik asked. ‘How recently?’
She took a breath. ‘The first time was about a fortnight ago. He wanted to borrow a tin opener. He said his was busted and he couldn’t be arsed to go out and buy one that night. It was quite late, about ten o’clock. The second time was the Sunday before last. He asked me if I had a postage stamp. It was about nine thirty. He said the shop next door had run out of stamps and he wanted to post a letter that night. I assumed it was for a birthday card or something like that, and perhaps he’d forgotten to send it on time because I couldn’t see why he didn’t just send whoever it was an email or a text.’
‘Perhaps the recipient didn’t have a computer or mobile phone,’ suggested Strathen.
‘Is there anyone left like that!’ But she quickly continued, ‘I guess it could have been for a child or elderly person. He didn’t say and I didn’t have a stamp. There’s no one I need to send a birthday card to, or any other type of card. I asked him the next day, the Monday before last, if he’d posted his letter OK and he said he had. He’d gone out and found a convenience store that had some stamps.’
Strathen said, ‘Did you hear any sounds coming from his flat over the weekend?’
‘I didn’t really take any notice. I went to the launderette on Saturday and walked along the seafront on Sunday. Another riveting and action-packed weekend,’ she said, a slight bitterness showing through her flippancy. She was embarrassed by her loneliness. Marvik saw Strathen’s jawline tighten.
Marvik’s phone rang. But it wasn’t his own or the basic mobile phone that Strathen had christened their mission mobile. It was the phone issued to him by Crowder for his assignments with the National Intelligence Marine Squad. And there was only one reason why Crowder was calling – he had a mission for him to undertake. Marvik cursed silently. That was the last thing he needed now when both he and Strathen should be devoting all their time to assisting Helen. But he had to answer the call and he knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse a mission. If he did it would mean the end of his work for the National Intelligence Marine Squad and he didn’t want that. With a glance at Strathen, who had immediately grasped the situation, Marvik quickly stepped out into the hall.
‘I’ll meet you on board your boat in half an hour,’ Crowder announced without preamble. ‘Come alone and be ready to leave the Hamble immediately.’
Marvik rang off. Crowder had known where he was and that he was on board his boat, despite not being able to track it because Marvik had never engaged the Automatic Identification System. But as he and Strathen had discussed earlier, there were other means of tracking and identifying craft, both air and seaborne. Computer systems were available to defence and the intelligence agencies, which Crowder would have access to.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he announced, returning to Strathen.
Strathen knew what that meant.
‘I’ve no idea how long I’ll be away.’
Helen looked surprised. ‘You’re walking out on us?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Shaun will take care of you. Give me your keys, Helen.’ To Strathen, Marvik said, ‘I’ll contact you when I can.’
Helen opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Marvik saw the disappointment in her eyes that he interpreted as betrayal. Whatever the mission, he would just have to resolve it quickly. Until then, he’d have to rely on Strathen to keep Helen safe.
FIVE
‘Helen Shannon,’ Crowder said without preamble, startling Marvik. It was the last thing he had expected to hear from the solemn, square-set man in his mid-forties seated in front of him across the table on the lower helm deck.
Crowder placed a black canvas briefcase on the table. The wind had risen and was gently rocking the boat. The afternoon was drawing in fast because of the heavy cloud rolling in from the west. The visitors’ berths were empty except for Marvik’s boat and the one Crowder had arrived on a moment ago, a twenty-five-foot powerful modern motor cruiser. Marvik had no idea where Crowder had come from but it couldn’t have been far to have reached him within half an hour.
Marvik also didn’t know where Crowder was based, although he suspected London. Neither did he know who was on the rest of Crowder’s team. He and Strathen had not been introduced to them. Their roles, in whatever mission Crowder assigned them, remained secret. There were police officers who could possibly identify both him and Strathen from their involvement in two successful missions for the Squad but there was no reason why they should. And Crowder had made sure that their identity was kept secret and they weren’t required to give evidence in any court proceedings.
Marvik held Crowder’s stare, trying to read what was behind the deep brown, serious eyes, but his expression was as inscrutable as ever.
‘Helen is with you and Strathen,’ Crowder stated.
‘Yes.’ Marvik saw no point in denying it. ‘I assume you know that the police are looking for her and why?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to give them her location?’ Marvik asked stiffly.
‘Not unless she killed Ian Bradshaw and has confessed it to you, or you believe her to be a killer.’
‘Neither. But she could be in danger from the killer. Do you know who that is?’
‘No. But I’d like to.’
‘Then the mission is connected with Bradshaw’s death?’ Marvik asked, relieved. His pulse quickened.
‘Yes.’
‘Because of Helen?’ he asked, puzzled.
‘No, because of Gavin Yardly.’
That was Marvik’s second surprise of the afternoon. He eyed Crowder keenly. ‘He’s missing.’
‘Not any more, he isn’t.’
Marvik quickly caught on. ‘His body’s been found.’
‘Yes. The news hasn’t been released but it soon will be. The current thinking is suicide as a result of being consumed with remorse after killing Ian Bradshaw.’
‘Motive?’
‘I don’t think you need me to tell you that.’
Marvik didn’t. It was exactly as he and Strathen had discussed. ‘Gavin killed Bradshaw in a jealous fit of rage because he found him with Helen.’
‘That’s one version.’
‘And the other?’
‘They both killed him.’
Marvik tensed. ‘Why?’
‘To steal from him.’
Marvik thought of the mobile phone and keys he’d taken from the body. Perhaps that had been a mistake. But surely the police c
ouldn’t think Helen and Gavin had killed for the sake of a mobile phone. Bradshaw’s credit cards and wallet had still been on the body and he didn’t think anyone would have had the opportunity to enter Helen’s flat and lift them after he and Helen had left and before the police arrived. But then he rapidly reconsidered. It was possible. Someone, the killer or the person who had tipped off the police – who could possibly be the same – could have been inside one of the other flats, an empty one perhaps, or in Gavin’s flat and then slipped up to Helen’s after they’d left by the fire escape. Marvik asked if the wallet had been found on the body.
Crowder confirmed it had, which was something of a relief to Marvik. But Crowder added, ‘No keys, though, so perhaps Helen and Gavin took them and entered Bradshaw’s apartment in order to steal from it.’
‘I doubt it,’ Marvik said tautly, but made no mention of taking the keys himself.
Crowder didn’t press him but continued, ‘Gavin Yardly’s body was discovered just after two o’clock this afternoon, thirty minutes before low tide, on the shore between the Birling Gap and Flagstaff Point, under Bailey’s Hill.’
Birling Gap was about five miles to the west of Eastbourne and could be reached by road, sea and by foot along the cliff edge of the Wealdway and the South Downs Way.
Crowder said, ‘A walker spotted it and called the East Sussex police. They will, of course, put out an appeal for anyone who might have seen Yardly between twenty-two hundred hours on Monday – the approximate time when Bradshaw was killed – and when his body was discovered.’
Marvik quickly assimilated this. ‘Why didn’t anyone find him earlier?’
‘Because his body was only revealed as the tide went out. And low tide before this afternoon, as you know, was two a.m. There were no walkers at that time in the morning to spot his body in the dark.’
Marvik’s brain teemed with thoughts. ‘Why, then, if he threw himself off the cliffs after killing Bradshaw, wasn’t his body swept out to sea on high water at seven twenty-seven?’
‘Because it was weighed down with the kind of weights you and Strathen use to keep fit.’
Marvik raised his eyebrows at this unexpected and curious piece of news. Cynically, he said, ‘So Yardly killed Bradshaw, bought some weights today—’
Lost Voyage Page 5
