Kingsway looked sheepish. 'I made a bit of a fool of myself, didn't I? But she was so adamant. I called in yesterday to check she was OK and she muttered something about it, but I managed to divert her by talking about the past. That's not difficult,' he added sadly. 'It's where they all live.'
He left a short pause before adding more brightly, 'Anyway, I'd better be going. Need my beauty sleep. I've been on since nine.'
Horton watched him climb into a silver saloon car, sensing that he'd just heard something important but couldn't quite grasp what it was. Never mind, he hoped it would come to him later.
The receptionist told them that no one had seen Nathan Lester since Wednesday. She handed over the key and they made their way back to the marine archaeological offices. Cantelli flicked on the lights in the outer office and began mooching around the desks, whilst Horton headed for the inner office where he'd previously interviewed Jackson.
There was no sign of Lester and nothing that Horton could see to tell them where he was.
After dropping the keys back to reception, Horton said, 'Let's check the sub-aqua club.'
The gates to the car park were locked and bolted, so Lester couldn't be there either.
'He's probably away on an antique-hunting expedition,' Cantelli said.
It was possible and perhaps, thought Horton, his neighbouring shopkeepers could tell them where Lester was and when they'd last seen him.
The consensus was they had no idea and didn't much care either. Not that he was unpopular, just that he kept himself to himself. Stuck up was one woman's rather uncharitable opinion, but then she was voluble about anything and everything. And she didn't have a kind word to say about anyone, least of all the police. The shop was hardly ever open, and she, like the other shopkeepers, reckoned that Lester did most of his business on the Internet and through word of mouth. The last sighting of him was late Thursday afternoon about four p.m.
'I don't much care for this "word of mouth" stuff,' Cantelli said, stretching the seat belt across him. 'It sounds like he's passing off stolen goods, after buying them in dodgy pubs and backstreet alleys. I think we'll take a good look around Lester's Aladdin's cave. I'll get a warrant.'
'Good idea. And whilst you're looking, you might see if Irene Ebury's stuff has turned up there. I got Lee to check the shops and pawnbrokers in the area where Keynes lives, but not in the area where she works, and the Rest Haven isn't far from here. She could have heard about Lester from Daniel Collins and thought Lester was worth approaching.'
'Unless Daniel stole them and sold them to Lester.'
Horton didn't much like the sound of that. For Mr and Mrs Collins's sake he hoped that wasn't so. But it hadn't escaped his notice that Daniel lived almost on Lester's doorstep. In fact a few streets away. The sooner they got hold of Lester the better. He'd try one more avenue before busting into Lester's home.
Returning to the Queen's Hotel, Horton found Corinna Denton and Jason Kirkwood together in Kirkwood's bedroom but there was no sign of Lester. And neither, they both claimed, had he been in touch with either of them.
Cantelli said, 'Has Mr Lester made any suggestions about where you should dive for this series?'
Horton knew where Cantelli's questions were leading. He was probing a link with the discovery of a wreck.
'Not to me,' Kirkwood said, shuffling some papers around on the bed where both he and Corinna were perched. She'd been crying and clearly had had little sleep. Wearing her customary black she had a large jumper stretched over her knees which she hugged to her chin.
'Have you changed your diving location at all in the last couple of months?' Cantelli persisted.
Corinna looked up and with a puzzled frown said, 'Nick did mention something about switching locations.'
Kirkwood started surprised. 'That's news to me. When?'
'Monday.
Horton glanced at Cantelli. 'Where did he suggest you dive?'
'I'll show you on the chart.'
She shifted position and shuffled down the bed. Leaning towards Horton she stabbed at a spot that was just off the eastern tip of the Isle of Wight, not far out of Bembridge Harbour. Kirkwood leaned over to see where it was, whilst Cantelli too craned his neck.
'Why there?' asked Kirkwood.
'Nick didn't say.'
Maybe it had been a whim, or could Cantelli be right, wondered Horton, and that somewhere in that region lay an important hitherto undiscovered wreck?
He left Corinna and Kirkwood with instructions to contact him the moment they heard from Nathan Lester and radioed for Uniform assistance to break into Lester's house. Twenty minutes later he was pacing the small living room, puzzled and irritated. Lester wasn't here and there were no signs he'd left in a hurry.
'His passport's still here,' Cantelli said, delving into a drawer in a heavy old bookcase and pulling out a small maroon document.
The house was crammed with antique furniture, which seemed completely out of place in the tiny rooms they'd swiftly searched. Horton had put one officer outside the front door to stop anyone from entering, while another was asking the neighbours for their opinions and last sightings of Nathan Lester.
'He's not travelled far,' Cantelli added, flicking through the passport.
Horton examined a small octagonal mahogany table in the corner by a door that led into a small conservatory. 'I'm no antiques expert, but I'd say there's some good stuff here, better than in his junk shop. He's just got no taste when it comes to placing things in their correct stetting, or in decorating,' he said, staring at the faded wallpaper that didn't look as though it had been changed since 1970. Keep it long enough, he thought, and it would come back in fashion. The house was grubby, uncared for and overfull. It smelt as though it had never been aired and looked as though it had never been dusted.
'He likes his books,' Cantelli said, craning his neck to read the spines of those in the bookcase. 'Lots on diving, marine life, and antiques. Some first editions here too,' he added, picking one out and opening it in a cloud of dust that made him sneeze.
There were also books lining the stairs and more in each of the three bedrooms, along with antique glass, more furniture and china. This place, thought Horton, was like an antiques shop. Several clocks scattered around the house suddenly burst into life.
'Blimey, I wouldn't like to sleep with that lot chiming all the quarter hours,' Cantelli cried, glancing at his own watch. 'They're slow. It's half past one. I wondered why my stomach was beginning to make strange noises.'
'Contact the art and antiques squad when you get back to the station, after you've grabbed some lunch,' Horton said pointedly. 'I want someone logging this lot to check if any of it has been stolen.'
He walked through to the kitchen. His shoes stuck to the grime on the cracked linoleum and he screwed up his face with disgust at the dirt and fat-encrusted kitchen work surfaces, littered with crockery, some used and some untouched and clearly an overspill of a job lot brought from the house of a deceased person. What Lester couldn't fit in the emporium he obviously tried to squeeze in here.
How could Jackson have given someone who lived like this the position of co-presenter? Horton thought, amazed. It just didn't ring true. Jackson must be mad. Either that or Jackson had been blackmailed into appointing Lester. Maybe Lester had killed Daniel Collins under Jackson's instructions and threatened to go to the police unless Jackson gave him the job.
Horton flicked opened the waste bin, glad he was wearing his latex gloves. He didn't like to think what he might catch otherwise. There were the remains of a couple of ready meals inside. The bread was beginning to go off in the bread bin, but the cupboards were fairly well stocked with food. It didn't look as though Lester had fled. If he had, then he must have gone by taxi or train, seeing as he didn't have a car.