‘A runner?’ Horton asked, interested, as his mind flashed to Natalie Raymonds. Not that that was relevant, except for the possible link of Luke Felton. But Venetia Trotman could hardly have been out jogging in the early hours of the morning wearing her clothes.
Gaye said, ‘Possibly. She certainly liked to keep fit.’
Uckfield removed his finger from his nose. ‘I can’t see her belonging to a gym.’
‘She could have been a dancer.’
‘Or a walker.’ Horton recalled the walking shoes in her house. Perhaps she had kept fit by going for long walks along the shore.
Moodily, Uckfield said, ‘OK, we’ve had the edited highlights, now tell us how she died?’
Gaye rose and beckoned them to follow her to the icy cold room just off the mortuary, where she slid open the drawer. Horton steeled himself once again to study the body.
Pointing, Gaye said, ‘You can see the lacerations where she was bludgeoned across the head, face and neck.’ She pointed to the discoloured and cut skin. ‘Those wounds were inflicted by a heavy round metal object. I’m getting the traces of it analysed. But although the trauma to the face and head could have killed her, they didn’t. They were inflicted after she was dead.’
‘To make us think that was the cause of death?’ asked Horton.
‘Perhaps, but it was a clumsy attempt to do so. It wasn’t a frenzied attack, it was calculated.’
‘How do you know that?’ asked Horton sharply.
‘Because she was stabbed in the neck.’
Horton looked up in surprise. ‘Isn’t that unusual?’ He’d only come across a neck stabbing once in his career and that was when he’d been a constable in uniform on patrol on a hot summer night in the city centre, when soaring temperatures and alcohol had led to searing passions, jealousy and death.
‘It is.’ Gaye closed the drawer. ‘As you well know, stab wounds to the chest and back are far more common than those to the neck. But stab wounds to the neck can cause rapid death, as in this case, which could be why it was the method used. The weapon severed the vagus nerve and caused severe internal haemorrhage, hence no bleeding externally, except from the other lacerations inflicted with the yet unidentified blunt instrument after death, and they were minimal.’
‘Would the killer have blood on him as a result of bludgeoning her?’
‘Only splashes, because she was already dead. The stabbing was inflicted by a very sharp serrated knife about four inches long and two inches wide. And your killer also seems to have known exactly where to strike and how far to penetrate to kill almost instantly.’
Horton glanced at Uckfield. Did this mean their killer had killed before, and in the same manner? But Luke Felton hadn’t used a knife; he’d strangled Natalie Raymonds and then bludgeoned her, which accounted for the blood on his clothes. ‘Any idea what kind of knife?’
Gaye thought for a moment. ‘It could be a small, sharp vegetable knife, but as the victim’s yacht is also missing then it’s just as likely it could be a sailing knife taken from the boat, the kind you use for slicing rope in an emergency.’
Uckfield rounded on Horton. ‘Did you see one on board?’
‘Not that I remember, but I was hardly taking an inventory.’
Uckfield scowled. Gloomily he said, ‘It’s probably at the bottom of the sea.’
‘You never know, Dennings might find it in the garden.’
Uckfield snorted. To Dr Clayton he said, ‘Any chance of getting a decent photograph of her?’
Gaye walked towards the benches on the far side of the room. ‘I’ll pull something together with the aid of the computer and Inspector Horton’s description and email it across to you. But I haven’t finished yet.’
Horton caught the edge of excitement in her voice and felt a tremor of anticipation. Uckfield halted.
Gaye continued. ‘The victim was discovered with her right hand tightly clenched, which was the result of a cadaveric spasm. It’s very unusual and confirms my findings that she died almost the moment the weapon was plunged into her neck. When we unlocked her hand it wasn’t empty.’
Horton felt his pulse quicken. Uckfield eyed her keenly.
She reached across the bench for a small plastic evidence bag. ‘This was in it.’
Uckfield took the bag and Horton found himself staring at a small flat key. It clearly wasn’t a house key: the wrong size, shape and style. So where did it belong? And why had it been in her hand when she was killed?
He said, ‘It looks very much like a locker key.’
‘Great!’ exploded Uckfield. ‘Now all we have to do is examine every ruddy locker in the country.’
Horton said, ‘It’s got a number on it. A locksmith could help us pinpoint what type it is and where it came from. That’ll be a start at least.’
Uckfield reached for his phone. He was already heading for the door. Over his shoulder he shouted, ‘Dr Clayton, I need that photograph. Now!’ The door slammed behind him.
Horton addressed Gaye. ‘Any other ideas?’
‘Not at the moment, but you’ll be the first to know if I get any.’
‘It’s not my case,’ he said.
She waggled a finger in her ear and frowned. ‘Sorry, didn’t hear that. Think I’ve gone deaf.’
He smiled at her. ‘I’d get a doctor to look at that if I was you.’
‘I would if I could find one I trust.’
You and me together, thought Horton, although Dr Clayton was an exception. Only problem was she dealt in dead bodies, not live ones. He gave her a detailed description of the victim before joining Uckfield in the car.
‘The key could be to a storage device where she kept her jewellery, which could have been on her boat,’ Horton said, as Uckfield swung the car in the direction of the station. ‘I didn’t see one when I was on board, and I looked in all the storage areas, but she could have taken it down there that night, which was why she was on the boat. She heard a noise, made to get away, didn’t bother with her coat but made sure to take the key, which means the locker contained something that was very valuable to her.’
‘And she put it on the boat because she was planning to escape whoever was after her, who could be Luke Felton,’ finished Uckfield. He swore at a motorbike, which overtook him with a roar and swerved in perilously close, causing him to brake.
It wasn’t a Harley but it was nevertheless a powerful machine. Instantly Horton recalled the one he’d heard speeding away after his incident in the lock, and with a jolt remembered the same thing happening to Cantelli when they’d been following Rookley to the cemetery. Quickly, Horton tried to read the licence plate before it sped off but it was smeared with mud and unreadable. Coincidence? Perhaps.
He said, ‘If Felton didn’t kill her it’s possible she was planning to start a new life with someone she thought was a friend, who in fact was her killer. He then steals the boat and makes off with whatever is in that locker. And without the key I guess he’d just break it open.’ Then he paused, adding after a moment, ‘Or perhaps her secret was on the verge of being exposed. She could already have been threatened by whoever might have been in the house when I was there. He leaves her for a while-’
‘Why?’
Horton didn’t answer but continued with his theory. ‘She seizes the opportunity to leave that night on the high tide, but her killer returns before she can do so.’ He warmed to his idea. ‘Perhaps he left her earlier knowing that she’d try to get away with whatever it is that’s valuable and in that locker. He waits, returns and then kills her, getting the loot and making his escape on the yacht.’
‘Why not simply check the locker was on board after he’d killed her, take the loot and scarper?’ demanded Uckfield, as he swung into the station car park.