He heard Cantelli give a surprised whistle and hurried back to the living room to find him waving a wodge of bank statements. 'There's some serious money here, Andy.'
'Coming in or going out?'
'Both. I haven't looked through them all and they're not in any order, but, according to this one in 2004, Lester had over thirty thousand pounds in his bank account. I wonder how much he's got now. I can't find a recent statement, but it's probably here somewhere.'
'And judging by this — ' Horton waved his arm around the room — 'and his mouldy shop, I'd say not a great deal. There are no empty bottles lying around, so it doesn't look as if he's a drinker but maybe he gambles.'
'Not in the betting shop near his emporium. I asked the manager. He said Lester had never been in. Perhaps he gambles on the Internet.'
There was no sign of a computer, but then Horton thought they might have missed it amongst all the furniture. Lester could have used a computer in his shop or the one in the marine archaeological offices. But that was all speculation.
'Bag up all the personal documents you can find, Barney.' He'd get DC Lee to sift through it, which would keep her occupied for several hours, he thought, wondering where she was. He hadn't heard from her or seen her this morning.
'Don't we need a search warrant?'
'Lester's life might be in danger. This could help us to find him.'
Cantelli eyed him sceptically.
Horton added, 'But you'd better apply for one anyway.' And then they could really tear this place to pieces.
Horton had reached the door when Cantelli called him back. He was holding a photograph album.
'This will make your heart sing.'
Horton found himself looking at several photographs of Nick Farnsworth with Nathan Lester in naval uniform on-board ship. In a couple of them Farnsworth had his arm loosely round Lester's shoulder. In others Lester was just standing close by with an enraptured expression on his squirrel-like features. Horton slipped one out of its plastic holder and flicked it over. Obligingly Lester had written the date on the back: June 1995. That was after Gary Manners' diving accident and could have been after he had left the navy.
Horton rang through to the station and asked Trueman to tell Uckfield about Lester and then to find out more about his navy record. Had Farnsworth wrecked Lester's career as well as Manners'? Had the two of them conspired to get even with Farnsworth? If so why had it taken them so many years?
Outside Horton spoke to PC Allen and discovered that Lester was rarely seen, never heard and no one knew anything about him. It was par for the course. He was about to call the arts and antiques squad when his phone rang. It was Dr Clayton.
'Something you might find interesting,' she announced brusquely.
He was surprised to hear anger in her voice. In the short space of time he'd known her, since August, he'd only seen her lose her temper once and that was over remarks made about her competence by DI Dennings. What or who had upset her now? It surely couldn't be Dennings. But then the DI had a knack of rubbing everyone up the wrong way, including his boss, it seemed.
'Like you, Inspector, I don't like coincidences and I particularly don't like being told what I should find before all the tests have been completed.'
Ah! So that was it. But test results on which body? One of the Eburys? It had to be. His heart went into overdrive.
He opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat as Cantelli emerged from Lester's house carrying a large plastic bag full of papers and the photograph album. Barney stopped to talk to the PC at the door.
Stiffly Gaye continued. 'I sent Peter Ebury's blood for analysis, as you well know. Twenty minutes ago I enquired about the results to be told they weren't ready. I said, "What the hell are you doing, recycling them for Dracula?" I was fobbed off with some pathetic excuse about being short-staffed and equipment breaking down. Three minutes ago I got a phone call from a smooth-talking, grovelling bastard who said the blood analysis need not concern me. Me! Did you hear that, Horton?'
Oh, yes, he heard it. He could have punched the air with glee. Instead he threw Cantelli a smile and got raised eyebrows in return. Hadn't he known it? This confirmed his suspicions. If Peter Ebury's death was down to natural causes then he was Clark Gable.
NINETEEN
'I had to let Manners go. His lawyer kept bleating on about releasing him or charging him, and what the hell evidence do I have?' Uckfield exploded, shovelling a large portion of steak and kidney pie into his mouth. 'The bastard was like a fucking iceberg sitting there, staring at me, his mouth shut tighter than a duck's arse. And it'll take more than dynamite to blow him out of the water.'
Horton had to agree. He bit into his ham baguette in the almost empty canteen. The lunchtime rush hour had been and gone. It was just after three. Horton had said nothing about Peter Ebury's blood test. Miraculously, Gaye had told him that she'd taken a second blood sample at the time of the post-mortem, which she would analyse once everyone had left the lab.
Lee had returned shortly after Horton. She'd been interviewing some of the relatives of residents of the Rest Haven, and, according to her, no one really knew Daniel Collins and no one had seen or heard him talk about Nicholas Farnsworth. None of the relatives had any complaints to make about the staff. Dead end.
After updating her on the events of the morning, Horton had set her to work sifting through Lester's bank statements, wondering when she would slip out and let her boss in the Intelligence Directorate know of this new development. Trueman had put out an alert for Lester, but so far no one seemed to have seen him at any of the city's three main railway stations, and neither had he caught any of the ferries across to the Isle of Wight, Gosport or Hayling Island. But it was too early to say with any real certainty that he had left the area.
Cantelli had resumed his studies of the case notes on the Peter Ebury armed robbery. Dr Clayton's news confirmed Horton's view that Peter had been silenced, and so too he reckoned had Irene. The key to their deaths had to be the armed robbery eight years ago. And he wouldn't mind betting it was that that the Intelligence Directorate was investigating. Had there been a master criminal behind it? Someone that Peter Ebury could identify. But if that were so then why wait until now to kill Peter? Horton said nothing to Lee about this and told Cantelli not to let on what he was doing if he could help it.
Uckfield's voice broke through Horton's thoughts. 'Do you think there's any truth in this wreck theory of Cantelli's?'
Horton brought his mind back to the present. 'Why would Farnsworth want to change the dive location if there wasn't?'
'Are there any wrecks in that area?'
'I could check it out with the university tomorrow.' Then he remembered that it was Saturday, there wouldn't be anyone to ask. And he was meant to be on leave.
'Well, I don't fancy sending the divers out into the Solent on a wild treasure hunt. It could take them forever and cost a fortune. And it's not coming out of my budget.'
It occurred to Horton that there was somewhere else they could check for details of wrecks, the marine archaeological offices. He remembered Lester indicating the computer and saying they were building a database of wrecks and other significant finds. But maybe this was one find that he and his fellow conspirators didn't want logged.
Uckfield cleaned his plate with a piece of bread. 'Haven't we got anything else?'
Horton heard the note of desperation and knew it was because Uckfield wanted to crack this case before the Intelligence Directorate. Horton didn't blame him for that. He felt the same way.
'Unless the search teams and Forensic come up with something we're down to probing backgrounds. But Manners isn't our only suspect. Jackson has plenty of motives for wanting his co-presenter out of the way, but as to killing Daniel Collins… he claims not to know him.'