Undercurrent (25 page)

‘In the museum.’

He left her looking very unhappy and worried and made his way downstairs where he found Morden checking over one of the exhibition rooms. After some bluffing and denials he finally capitulated and confirmed what Julie Preston had told him.

‘When I got back to the control room I looked at the monitors and everything was fine,’ Morden said with an air of bravado.

Horton said sharply, ‘It would be then. How many times have you and Julie done this before?’

Morden shrugged.

‘She means that little to you,’ Horton said contemptuously.

‘Four times.’

‘When exactly?’ He’d get the dates from Julie but no harm in asking now.

‘Twice in May, June and this last time.’

‘And was Dr Spalding lecturing on each of those evenings?’

‘Only in May and this last one, the other two talks were from a local historian and someone from the Dockyard Society.’

Horton would check that guest list to see if Redsall had attended any of those other lectures but he didn’t think so because he was betting that Redsall had only come over here after Spalding had visited him in Northern Ireland at the beginning of July. He showed Morden a picture of Daniel Redsall.

‘Do you remember seeing this man on the monitors at Dr Spalding’s lecture?’

Morden studied it. ‘No.’

‘Have you seen him before?’

‘No.’

‘How about Ivor Meadows?’

‘Yes, I know him. He comes into the museum. He’s a bit of pain, thinks he knows more than the curators, always banging on about the Navy and the importance of keeping naval artefacts and security measures. The way he carries on anyone would think he owns the place.’ Morden smiled.

Solemnly Horton said, ‘Mr Meadows was found brutally murdered this morning.’

Morden started. His eyes widened and then he rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Look, I didn’t know that. I only meant—’

‘Did Ivor Meadows know about your affair with Julie Preston?’

‘No!’

‘Are you sure?’

Morden shifted. ‘How could he? We were always very careful.’

But Horton wondered. Had Meadows seen Julie leave the room? Had he caught a glimpse of Morden in the corridor? Was that why he’d collared the curators and gone on about security measures? But if Meadows had known that Morden had left his post then why hadn’t he said?

‘Where were you last night, Mr Morden?’ Horton asked curtly.

‘At home. You can’t think that I—’

‘Can anyone verify that?’

‘My wife.’

‘All night?’

‘Yes. I got home about six thirty and didn’t go out again until I came to work this morning.’ Morden was looking alarmed. ‘My wife, Debbie, will tell you that.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. We’ll check.’

‘You won’t have to tell Debbie about me and Julie, will you? I mean that’s got nothing to do with anything.’

Horton didn’t answer. He collected the lists from Julie wondering what a pretty slim thing like her saw in the cocky overweight Morden, but then DC Walters too had his admirers and Horton could never understand that either. He scanned the list of names. Not surprisingly Ivor Meadows had attended all four public lectures, so too had Marcus Felspur. He also noted that Brenda Crossley, the guest house proprietor, had attended the previous lecture given by Douglas Spalding in May, which interestingly she hadn’t mentioned. Redsall’s name didn’t appear on any of the lists. Horton called in at the security office and asked who had been on duty on the dates Julie had given him. Neither Matt Newton nor Neil Gideon had been. So perhaps Gideon didn’t know about Morden and Julie Preston. Perhaps Redsall had just taken a chance. He’d also counted on Spalding not checking the inside of his briefcase, but perhaps he’d known that by the time Spalding would leave the museum he’d be suffering from the effects of a drug, one which the toxicology tests had failed to pick up, or rather the test had been rigged to show a negative results. There was someone on the inside. There had to be. Someone who knew exactly what went on and could time things to perfection and instruct Redsall.

Horton asked the woman on the security desk to check if Ivor Meadows had signed into the library the previous day. He had, shortly after Horton had spoken to him at five past eleven. Meadows had signed out of the security office at eleven thirty-five, so his research that morning hadn’t taken him very long. Horton was informed that the library was closed. He hadn’t realized the time. It was gone six. Bliss would be baying for his blood.

He tossed up whether to delay his bollocking by re-interviewing Brenda Crossley but he didn’t see that she’d be able to add much to the investigation just by having attended one of Spalding’s lectures.

Preparing to face the DCI’s wrath he returned to the station to be greeted with the news from Cantelli that Bliss was still in a meeting, or rather in another meeting. Horton recalled what Madeley had said about her being very ambitious and destined for dizzy heights, which no doubt she’d reach at super speed. He also wondered what Bliss had said about him and why his name had cropped up in their conversation. He should have thought about it before but he’d been preoccupied with other matters. Perhaps she had asked Madeley’s advice on how to rid herself of an insubordinate copper who wasn’t the world’s best team player and who treated paperwork as a contagious disease to be avoided at all costs.

Horton relayed to Cantelli the outcome of his interview with Julie Preston.

Cantelli said, ‘Gosport Marina has confirmed that Ashton was there on Tuesday just before four o’clock. He took a motor boat out for a trial; the broker selling it was tied up with another customer so Ashton went out alone.’

Walters looked up from his computer screen. ‘There’s no sign of Redsall on the pontoons on Monday night or on the boardwalk.’

‘And Ivor Meadows?’

‘Nothing so far.’

‘Keep looking and recheck the footage for Tuesday afternoon to see if Ashton moors up at Oyster Quays. And get hold of any CCTV footage you can along The Hard for Monday night, outside the dockyard and by the road that runs down to the railway station, and check it for sightings of Redsall and Meadows any time from nine fifteen to ten thirty.’

‘Hope you’re going to pay for my laser eye treatment when I go short sighted,’ Walters grumbled, reaching for another Jaffa Cake.

‘You already are. And you wear contact lenses, so stop moaning.’

In his office Horton rang through to Trueman. ‘Has the autopsy report on Meadows come in?’

‘Not yet. But Meadows’ next of kin, his sister, is on her way down from Liverpool. We’ve booked her into the Holiday Inn Express and Marsden’s meeting her there in half an hour. I’ve sent Meadows’ computer over to the high-tech unit as instructed.’

‘Thanks.’

‘There’s nothing from SOCO yet on the scene of crime and no murder weapon has been found at the Round Tower. There are also no other sightings of Meadows apart from the one at ten thirty. I’ve got teams asking around the pubs tonight so something might come in later.’

‘I take it Uckfield’s still insisting on towing the party line and that Meadows’ death has nothing to do with Spalding’s and Redsall’s?’

‘Yes. He’s in with Dean at the moment so he might return with a change of heart.’

‘I won’t hold my breath.’ Horton rang off and cleared a space on his desk by pushing all the paper to one side. He checked through his messages and emails to see if the police in Coleraine had come up with a sighting of Spalding but there was nothing. Feeling disappointed he pulled up the autopsy report on Spalding, which Dr Clayton had forwarded to him as she had promised, and read it through looking for something that might have been missed. There was nothing. And no report of traces of vomit being found on Spalding’s clothing.

His phone rang and he snatched it up, half-expecting it to be Bliss, but he was pleased to find it was Dr Clayton herself.

‘I’ve just emailed the autopsy report on Meadows to DI Dennings, and I’m sending it across to you now but I thought you might like to hear what I’ve found.’

‘Hang on, I’ll get Cantelli.’

He crossed to his door and called him in, leaving the door ajar so that he could see if Bliss hove onto the horizon. Returning to his phone and gesturing Cantelli into the seat across his desk, Horton said into the receiver, ‘I’ll put you on loud speaker. Go ahead.’

‘The victim, aged sixty-six, suffered from atherosclerosis, a potentially serious condition where the body’s medium and large arteries become clogged up by fatty substances, such as cholesterol, so I’d cut out those bacon butties, Sergeant,’ she said.

‘Got to have some vices.’

‘Yes but too many won’t make old bones.’ Swiftly she continued, ‘This in the victim led to coronary heart disease. He died of myocardial infarction, also no doubt precipitated by the shock of the attack. The blows to the head were severe but the victim was already dead by the time he received the second, third, fourth and fifth blows.’

Horton thought that was a blessing.

Gaye Clayton continued. ‘He was struck with a cylindrical heavy object, possibly about ten to twelve inches in length. I examined the skin and surface wounds for trace evidence, and found fragments of what looks like metal. I’ve sent them to the lab for analysis. Tom has also taken photographs and measurements of the wounds to help identify the weapon, and I placed a piece of plastic wrap over the heart of the wound and traced it with a pen and got a small round shape, which I’ve also emailed to you.’

Horton called up his emails as she was speaking and found it.

‘Any ideas what it is?’ he asked.

‘A piece of lead piping? A metal tube? Something that culminates in a round flat shape as you can see, not a jagged edge. Blood would have spattered over the killer and I saw traces of it on the wall which your scene-of-crime team would also have noted and photographed. The spatter pattern indicates it was a medium-force impact, streaky with drops of blood about two millimetres in size.’

Cantelli said, ‘So the killer would have blood on him.’

‘Yes.’

Horton said, ‘It was dark and so far no one claims to have seen the attack or anyone walking away covered in blood.’

Cantelli said, ‘If the killer is living with someone, his or her partner must have seen the bloodstained clothes.’

‘Not if he ditched them before returning home,’ suggested Horton. ‘He could have taken off protective clothing such as a raincoat or jacket, and underneath been wearing shorts and a T-shirt. As the location is not far from the sea our killer could have run down the steps, through the hole in the wall, and taken a dip in his shorts and T-shirt to get rid of the blood and either ditched the coat in the sea, although that’s risky because the high tide would have washed it up, or he ditched it on his way home. Or he could have taken it home and put it in the washing machine and if he lives alone no one would know. Maybe the killer had a rucksack like Redsall and stuffed the coat in there. Are we looking for a man or a woman?’

‘Could be either,’ Gaye Clayton answered. ‘Meadows was five feet eight and by the angle of the blow he was leaning forward when he was struck, as though he was bending over looking at something on the ground. He can’t have been doing up his shoe laces because he was wearing slip-ons. He was struck with force but that doesn’t rule out it being a woman.’

And the women who featured in this so far were Alvita Baarda, Melanie Jacobs, Jacqueline Spalding, Erica Leyton, Julie Preston, Brenda Crossley, Dr Sandra Menchip and Beatrice Redsall. Horton hadn’t met Baarda or Menchip so he couldn’t say whether they were capable of carrying out such a violent attack. Out of all of them he could see Beatrice Redsall doing such a thing but only Julie Preston and Alvita Baarda had been at Spalding’s lecture. But if Redsall had killed Spalding under someone’s instructions by injecting him with a drug then that changed everything.

‘Time of death?’

‘Between eleven and midnight. There was alcohol in his blood, but not an excessive amount.’

Horton said, ‘Anything further on the tests on Redsall?’

‘Sorry, didn’t get time today but unless you have any new bodies for me tomorrow I’ll be on to it first thing.’

He thanked her and rang off.

Cantelli said, ‘Interesting what she said about a woman. If Spalding and Redsall were drugged then poison is often a woman’s weapon, but bashing Meadows over the head? I’m not so sure.’

‘Perhaps she was desperate and had no other choice. Or perhaps she was clever, knowing we’d put it down to a mugging. I can’t see Julie Preston involved. Would you say Alvita Baarda was capable of this?’

‘No. She couldn’t be bothered, it would all be too much trouble for her and I don’t think she’d be bright enough to plan it. If she hated Spalding and wanted to destroy him she’s much more likely to disgrace him by going to the newspapers or putting it all over the Internet.’

‘And Dr Sandra Menchip?’

‘She comes across as a very principled woman and she’s clever but she was travelling home from her holidays in Greece on Monday and didn’t get in until one o’clock in the morning so she certainly had nothing to do with Spalding’s death. I believed her when she said she didn’t know Redsall. And I certainly don’t see Jacqueline Spalding killing anyone or plotting to kill her husband.’

Horton agreed. He also said they could rule out Melanie Jacobs because she had been with Ashton. ‘That leaves Erica Leyton who knew Spalding and could have known Redsall. We both think she’s a bit of a tease, so she could have cajoled Redsall into helping her get rid of Spalding, though I’ve no idea why. Redsall might have become infatuated with her. She’s also clever but I have trouble seeing her bashing Meadows over the head and I can’t see how Meadows could have known her or recognized her.’

‘Unless he’d previously seen Spalding with her in the museum library.’

Cantelli had a point. Horton said, ‘Then there’s Brenda Crossley, the guest house owner. She was in the Navy, as was her husband. She attended Spalding’s lecture in May, which Ivor Meadows also attended. Spalding could have contacted her about his research. When I mentioned the name Redsall to Meadows he might have made a connection between Brenda Crossley and Rear Admiral Jonathan Redsall. They might have served together on the same ship some years ago.’