A child of three travels free by train, and the record of sales from Lymington station had shown that numerous single adult fares to Bournemouth and Poole had been sold on the Saturday, the trip being a quick and easy one through a change onto regular mainline trains at Brockenhurst. However, if Kate Sumner had purchased one of the tickets, she had used cash rather than a check or credit card for the transaction. None of the railway staff remembered a small blond woman with a child, but as they pointed out, the traffic through Lymington station on a Saturday in peak holiday season was so continuous and so heavy because of the ferry link to and from the Isle of Wight that it was unlikely they would.
"The only fly in the ointment is Hannah," Carpenter went on. "If he abandoned her in Lilliput before driving back to Liverpool, why did it take so long for anyone to notice her? He must have dumped her by six a.m., but Mr. and Mrs. Green didn't spot her until ten thirty."
Galbraith thought of the traces of benzodiazepine and paracetamol in her system. "Maybe he fed, watered, and cleaned her at six, then left her asleep in a cardboard box in a shop doorway," he said thoughtfully. "He's a pharmaceutical chemist, don't forget, so he must have a pretty good idea how to put a three-year-old under for several hours. My guess is he's been doing it for years. By the way the child behaves around him she must have been a blight on his sex life from the day she was born."
Meanwhile, Nick Ingram was chasing stolen dinghies. The fishermen who parked their boats at Chapman's Pool couldn't help. "Matter of fact it's the first thing we checked when we heard the woman had drowned," said one. "I'd have let you know if there'd been a problem, but nothing's missing."
It was the same story in Swanage and Kimmeridge Bay.
His last port of call, Lulworth Cove, looked more promising. "Funny you should ask," said the voice on the other end of the line, "because we have had one go missing, black ten-footer."
"Sounds about right. When did it go?"
"A good three months back."
"Where from?"
"Would you believe it, off the beach. Some poor sod from Spain anchors his cruiser in the bay, ferries himself and his family in for a pub lunch, leaves the outboard in place with the starter cord dangling, and then tears strips off yours truly because it was hijacked from under his nose. According to him, no one in Spain would dream of stealing another chap's boat-never mind he makes it easy enough for the local moron to nick it-and then gives me a load of grief about the aggression of Cornish fishermen and how they were probably at the bottom of it. I pointed out that Cornwall's a good hundred miles away, and that Spanish fishermen are far more aggressive than the Cornish variety and never follow European Union rules, but he still said he was going to report me to the European Court of Human Rights for failing to protect Spanish tourists."
Ingram laughed. "So what happened?"
"Nothing. I took him and his family out to his sodding great bastard of a fifty-foot cruiser and we never heard another word. He probably put in for twice the dinghy's insurance value and blamed the vile English for its disappearance. We made inquiries, of course, but no one had seen anything. I mean, why would they? We get hundreds of people here during bank holiday week, and anyone could have started it up with no trouble. I mean what kind of moron leaves a dinghy with an outboard in place? We reckoned it was taken by joyriders who sank it when they got bored with it."
"Which bank holiday was it?"
"End of May. School half-term. The place was packed."
"Did the Spaniard give you a description of the dinghy?"
"A whole bloody manifest more like. All ready for the insurance. Half of me suspected he wanted it to be nicked just so he could get something a bit more swanky."
"Can you fax the details through?"
"Sure."
"I'm particularly interested in the outboard."
"Why?"
"Because I don't think it was on the dinghy when it went down. With any luck, it's still in the possession of the thief."
"Is he your murderer?"
"Very likely."
"Then you're in luck, mate. I've got all sorts of serial numbers here, courtesy of our Spanish friend, and one of them's the outboard."
*14*
Report from Falmouth police, following an interview with Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Harding
Subject: Steven Harding
Mr. and Mrs. Harding live at 18 Hall Road, a modest bungalow to the west of Falmouth. They retired to Cornwall in 1991 after running a flsh-and-chip shop in Lymington for 80+ years. They used a considerable proportion of their capital to put their only child, Steven, through a private drama college following his failure to gain any A-level passes at school, and feel aggrieved that they now live in somewhat straitened circumstances as a result. This may in part explain, why their attitude toward their son is critical and unfriendly.
They describe Steven as a "disappointment" and evince considerable hostility toward him because of his "immoral lifestyle." They blame his wayward behavior-"He is only interested in sex, drugs and rock and roll"-and lack of achievement-"He has never done a day's serious work in his life"-on laziness and a belief that "the world owes him a living." Mr. Harding, who is proud of his working-class roots, says Steven looks down on his parents, which explains why Steven has been to see them only once in six years. The visit-during the summer of 1995- was not a success and Mr. Harding's views on his son's arrogance and lack of gratitude were explosive and earthy. He uses words like "poser," "junky," "parasite," "oversexed," "liar," "irresponsible" to describe his son, although it is clear that his hostility has more to do with his inability to accept Steven's rejection of working-class values than any real knowledge of his son's current lifestyle as they have had no contact with him since July 1995.
Mrs. Harding cites a school friend of Steven's, Anthony Bridges, as a malign influence on his life. According to her, Anthony introduced Steven to shoplifting, drugs, and pornography at the age of twelve, and Steven's lack of achievement stems from a couple of police cautions he and Anthony received during their teenage years for drunk and disorderly behavior, vandalism, and theft of pornographic materials from a newsagent. Steven became rebellious and impossible to control after these episodes. She describes Steven as "too handsome for his own good," and says that girls were throwing themselves at him from an early age. She says Anthony, by contrast, was always overshadowed by his friend and that she believes this is why it amused Anthony to "get Steven into trouble." She feels very bitter that Anthony, despite his previous history, was bright enough to go to university and find himself a job in teaching, while Steven had to rely on the funding his parents provided, for which they have received no thanks.
When Mr. Harding asked Steven how he was able to afford to buy his boat, Crazy Daze, Steven admitted he had received payment for several hard-core pornography sessions. This caused such distress to his parents that they ordered him from their house in July 1995 and have neither seen nor heard from him since. They know nothing about his recent activities, friends, or acquaintances and can shed no light on the events of 9-10 August 1997. However, they insist that, despite all his faults, they do not believe Steven to be a violent or aggressive young man.
*15*
Maggie Jenner was raking straw in one of the stables when Nick Ingram and John Galbraith drove into Broxton House yard on Thursday morning. Her immediate reaction, as it was with all visitors, was to retreat into the shadows, unwilling to be seen, unwilling to have her privacy invaded, for it required an effort of will to overcome her natural disinclination to participate in anything that involved people. Broxton House, a square Queen Anne building with pitched roof, red-brick walls, and shuttered upper windows, was visible through a gap in the trees to the right of the stableyard, and she watched the two men admire it as they got out of the car, before turning to walk in her direction.