Footsteps on the Shore (30 page)

Horton drew up sharply as the realization smacked him in the face. They’d been asking the wrong questions. It wasn’t a case of
who
had framed Luke, or even
why
; neither was it a question of who would have had the
opportunity
to frame him. Rather, who could have done it so convincingly and so competently without Luke Felton ever having been on the Hayling Coastal Path in 1997? Horton knew there was only one answer.

TWENTY-FOUR

J
ulia Chawley opened the door to him. ‘I’ll check my father-in-law is up to speaking to you,’ she said, looking anxious, and scurried away leaving Horton to follow her through the hall and into the kitchen. There was no sight of the children, though he could hear faint sounds of them coming from upstairs.

He crossed to the breakfast area and pushed open the door to the right, which he’d noticed the last time he’d been here. He stood among the toys, gazing at the children’s paintings on the walls, remembering how he’d been called upon by his daughter many times to admire her artistic endeavours. He hoped he’d share that experience again. The paintings were of houses, with children larger than the house playing beside them; but there were many of boats. One had a large red and black funnel.

‘He’s ready to see you now, Inspector.’

He spun round. She had crept up so silently behind him. Her shy smile reminded him of Venetia Trotman.

She led him to the sick room, where after tapping lightly on the door and admitting him she faded away. Duncan Chawley was in the same position and in the same chair as on Horton’s previous visit. The room was also just as hot, although Chawley – dressed in a woollen sweater and with a thick checked rug over his legs – was impervious to the heat.

‘Mind if I take my jacket off?’ Horton said. The sweat was pricking his brow and his shirt, sticking to his back within seconds.

‘Be my guest.’ Chawley waved a bony hand at him.

Horton clambered out of his heavy leather jacket, thankful he only had a shirt underneath it and not a suit jacket. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,’ he began, ‘but we’ve not been able to find Luke Felton and there are a couple of things that have come to light about the investigation into the Natalie Raymonds murder.’ He perched on the seat opposite Chawley, trying not to think about that smell of death, recalling what the sailing club secretary had told him: Luke’s father had been a member of the club and Luke had been a regular visitor there even after his fall from grace and the attack on Bailey’s mother, mainly because his father had been held in such high respect. But the Feltons hadn’t been the only members.

‘Like what?’ Chawley’s yellow eyes narrowed.

‘Like the fact that Peter Bailey has admitted to lying about seeing Luke Felton on the coastal path the day Natalie was killed in order to pay Felton back for attacking his mother.’ He held Chawley’s gaze, which despite his illness showed no emotion. He added, ‘Which means that Luke Felton was never there, and if he was never there then someone—’

‘You don’t have to spell it out, Inspector,’ Chawley quipped. ‘I may be ill but I’m not an imbecile.’

Coolly Horton said, ‘You knew Bailey was lying from the start.’

‘Yes.’

There was no hesitation. No denial. And there wouldn’t be. Chawley had lied about Peter Bailey, so what else had he lied about? A great deal, if Horton’s deductions were correct. He eyed the former superintendent steadily.

‘I knew you were the type of copper who wouldn’t stop digging until he had all the answers, like I used to be.’

‘Until the Natalie Raymonds case,’ Horton said evenly.

Chawley didn’t answer.

‘You knew Luke Felton didn’t kill her.’

Again Chawley remained silent. That was tantamount to admitting it. Horton didn’t feel sorry for Chawley now, but angry. ‘You let an innocent man go to prison while the real killer got off scot free.’

‘He was scum,’ Chawley said calmly.

‘His parents weren’t,’ Horton replied stiffly, recalling what Cantelli had told him. ‘They were destroyed by what they believed their son had done.’

Chawley’s eyes held Horton’s without showing a flicker of remorse or regret. Containing his anger, Horton said, ‘Luke Felton was drugged and held captive. Evidence was planted on Natalie’s body to frame him for her death and yet you never spoke out. Who were you protecting?’

And that was the critical factor, thought Horton, the one thing he’d missed until now. All of Chawley’s actions on this case, all the gaps in the investigation, pointed to one thing: protection. He was cross with himself for not spotting it sooner, but sometimes a thing has to be shoved under your nose several times before you see it. No one could have planted the evidence so carefully, swept away all discrepancies at the crime scene so competently and completely, except a police officer.

Tautly, Chawley said, ‘A good officer’s career and family would have been destroyed if I hadn’t done what I did. I wasn’t going to allow that to happen. I’ve no regrets.’

‘Who was it?’ Horton asked tersely, knowing that he wouldn’t be thanked for exposing this. The media would love it, the public’s confidence would be shattered and the Chief Constable would have to take the flak on the eve of his retirement. Horton wished he could simply walk away but it wasn’t in his nature. He hated corruption.

‘DCI Sean Lovell was having an affair with Natalie Raymonds.’

Horton hastily hid his surprise. His mind conjured up the man he’d worked with on the drug squad years ago: easygoing, friendly Sean Lovell, a devoted husband and father. No. It wasn’t possible. Sean wouldn’t have had the money Natalie craved but he would have had the power, especially if Natalie
had
been dealing in drugs and Sean had given her protection from being exposed.

He eyed Chawley closely as the sick man continued. ‘Luke was a junkie, and violent. He was no use to society whereas Sean was a good officer, one of the best, and he fell hopelessly in love with Natalie. She was a real looker, one of those women who could have any man eating out of the palm of her hand within minutes.’

And Sean Lovell had died of a heart attack not long after the case. Could that have been provoked by stress?

‘How did he meet her?’ Horton asked brusquely.

‘I blame myself for that. Sean was with me at the Castle Sailing Club when Natalie came in with Julian. I could see that they were immediately attracted even though they played it cool. I said nothing. Sean was happily married. He wouldn’t wreck his marriage but he damn well nearly did. He asked Natalie to leave Julian and said he would leave Tina. Natalie laughed at him. She said they were having fun, so why ruin things. Sean was devastated. He simply lost it and before he knew it she was dead. He didn’t know what to do so he came to me and confessed. I wasn’t going to let his career go down the pan because of a tart like Natalie so I told him to say nothing, that I’d handle it.’

‘So you planted the evidence against Luke at the scene of the murder.’

‘Yes. And then Bailey came forward to say he’d seen Luke on the path. And Luke Felton was so pilled up he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. He believed it when we told him he’d killed Natalie.’ Quickly Chawley added, ‘I know it’s hard to believe of Sean. I couldn’t believe it myself at first. But Natalie Raymonds was one of those predatory women. She knew exactly how to use sex to get what she wanted, whether that was money, power, fun or revenge. She’d pick her victims carefully, seduce them, suck them dry and then kick them over. She took pleasure in other people’s pain and saw every man as a challenge, a conquest.’

Horton knew the type. Icily, he said, ‘And what did she want from Sean?’

‘She wanted him to worship her and she wanted to destroy his marriage.’

‘Why?’

Chawley gave a dry laugh. ‘To show she could. It was part of her power. And she had photographs and videos of them together. She would use them to blackmail him whenever she wanted.’

Chawley’s body slumped, as though exhausted both mentally and physically, and his breathing became more laboured. Concerned, Horton said, ‘I’ll fetch your daughter-in-law.’

But Chawley managed to raise a hand to still him and croaked, ‘No, give me a minute.’

Horton did. It gave him time to think over what he’d just learnt. Most of the pieces fitted with what he knew and had discovered but for three things. The first was a gut reaction, a feeling that Sean couldn’t have committed such a heinous crime; the other two were more tangible. But he could see that Duncan Chawley hadn’t finished yet. Horton wanted to hear it all before he spoke.

After a moment Chawley continued more slowly, as though the effort was costing him dear. ‘Sean called me after he’d killed Natalie. I told him to stay there until I came. If anyone turned up he was to show his warrant card and say he’d responded to an anonymous call and the team were on their way. But no one came. He was a wreck. He wanted to give himself up. I heard all he had to say and told him to keep quiet. I knew that I would be in charge of the case and I’d see it went unsolved, but that was before Bailey gave me the gift of Luke Felton.’

Horton listened without showing a reaction, while his mind assimilated what Chawley was telling him.

Chawley roused himself and with a new urgency said, ‘If this comes out, it will all have been for nothing and the memory of a good cop will be tarnished. Not mine but Sean’s. It can hardly matter to me when I’ve not got long to live. But think of what it will do to Tina and the force,’ he said, echoing Horton’s earlier thoughts. ‘And for what? Luke Felton was a drug addict and would probably have killed or assaulted some other poor pensioner or innocent person. Locking him up meant keeping him off the streets for fourteen years.’

‘But that’s not how it happened, is it?’ Horton now said sharply, despising Chawley and not caring if he showed it. ‘You couldn’t simply plant the DNA on Natalie’s body and the bottle with Luke’s fingerprints on it immediately after Sean called you because you wouldn’t have known where Luke was. You needed him not to be able to remember where he was on the nineteenth of September for him to become your scapegoat, and that meant Natalie’s murder was planned and no impulse killing.’

Chawley eyed him steadily. After a moment he nodded slowly and with a weary sigh said, ‘You’re right, of course. I thought it would look better for Sean if I told you it was a spur-of-the-moment killing, done in anger, unpremeditated, but it wasn’t. After being rejected, Sean planned how he would kill Natalie and how he would frame Luke for it. Heroin had been seized in a raid in Havant and put in the drug safe, but it hadn’t been entered in the log. Sean simply falsified the entry and took enough to lay Luke out. He arranged to meet Luke, drugged him and then drove to Hayling, parked his car in a side street near the southern access to the coastal path and met and killed Natalie and planted the evidence.’

Horton didn’t care for what he was hearing. His body was tense, his mind a jumble of thoughts, as Chawley continued.

‘I didn’t know what Sean had done until just before Bailey called to say he saw Felton on that path. Sean was breaking under the strain. He told me.’

‘And instead of doing what you should have done, you covered it up.’

Chawley nodded. He leaned back in his chair. His face was even more drawn than when Horton had entered and the flesh seemed to have fallen from his frail body. Horton didn’t feel pity, only fury.

‘It’s a convincing story,’ he said, with an edge of steel to his voice that made Chawley look up. ‘And it’s almost true, except for one fact. Sean Lovell didn’t have an affair with Natalie Raymonds. You did. You killed her and you framed Luke Felton for her murder.’

Chawley eyed him with an expression devoid of emotion. There were no denials, no outraged protestations. Just silence.

Harshly, not bothering to disguise his disgust, Horton said, ‘You arranged to meet Luke at Portchester Castle, where you kept a boat. You lured him there, plied him with drink and drugs that
you
stole from the drugs safe or more likely took off some addict without declaring it or charging him. Then, taking hairs from Luke’s body and his clothes, you pressed his fingerprints on a bottle of water and you drove to meet Natalie Raymonds in that copse as arranged, parking your car some distance away in a side street. Then you strangled her using your tie, and planted the evidence and Natalie’s fingerprints on the bottle of water to make it look as though it was hers. You were quickly on the scene, heading the investigation. When Luke was found and the evidence matched, it was a result. Bailey’s false testimony clinched it and Luke’s memory was a blank. And I’ll tell you why I know it was you,’ Horton continued ruthlessly. ‘Apart from the fact that I would never believe Sean to be capable of an affair, let alone a murder, there’s the matter of the mobile phone records. Natalie’s mobile calls were never checked, because if they had been your telephone number would have been listed. But there’s something even more convincing to show that you killed Natalie Raymonds. There’s Luke Felton’s disappearance.’

A frown puckered Chawley’s lined brow. ‘I can’t see how—’

‘He’s dead.’

Chawley’s face paled. ‘Then why—?’

Horton shook his head in wonderment. ‘You know why,’ he said scathingly. ‘Because Luke started to remember things about Natalie’s murder and that meant it was too dangerous for him to live. He had to die.’

Scornfully Chawley said, ‘You can’t think I killed him! I haven’t even got the strength to move from this chair.’

‘No, not you,’ Horton said, rising. ‘Which means someone else has gone to great lengths to protect Natalie’s killer, and Sean Lovell’s wife couldn’t have done that.’

‘Who then?’ Chawley demanded angrily, but it was bluff. Horton saw the fear in his yellow eyes.

At the door he paused. Bitingly he said, ‘You’re a copper, work it out.’