The Suffocating Sea

Horton felt inordinately pleased and tried not to show it. 'I didn't know you'd come across him that much.'

'I haven't, thank the Lord. He telephoned me from Guernsey, early this morning. I was just about to begin the autopsy on Gilmore. DI Dennings insisted on speaking to me. Wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't think he's met Tom yet. I look forward to that after their brief conversation. He insisted on calling me luv, which I can handle. Not sure Tom liked being called a monkey though. He wanted to know exactly how Brundall died.'

Now why would Dennings want to know that when Horton thought he'd already seen the report? Perhaps he was comparing notes on Sherbourne's death.

'And Gilmore?'

'There are no signs of suspicious death, but equally there are no signs that he suffered a stroke or even a heart attack. He was remarkably healthy, no clogged arteries or thinning blood vessels. No tumours. In fact there was no reason why he should die. I believe he could have been poisoned, although I haven't found any trace of poison, which is what makes this case even more interesting. I've sent blood, skin and hair samples off for analysis.'

Horton was surprised. Poisoning was a bit different from being bashed on the head and being set fire to. He considered what Gaye had said. 'If Gilmore was poisoned then wouldn't he have shown signs of illness over a period of time?'

'Ah! Depends what he was poisoned with,' she replied, spinning round to face him with an eager expression on her face. She looked so radiant that he felt a stirring deep in his loins, and hoped his expression didn't betray his surprise. He'd never considered her in that light before and now he found himself rather warming to the idea.

'Was there any nausea?' she asked.

'Mr Gutner, who saw him collapse, didn't mention it, and he would have done.'

She turned back and finished drying her hands. Horton let out a surreptitious breath.

Throwing the paper towel into the bin she continued. 'Some poisons cause paralysis of the heart muscles, others the lungs, like curare, for example, which has no effect if taken by mouth, but if injected will kill. During the death throes the victim turns blue, but no one at the hospital mentioned the victim's colour. I think even they might have noticed that despite how busy they are. Curare is almost impossible to detect after death. Then there's hemlock, which is similar to curare in that it causes paralysis of the muscles. The first symptoms can take half an hour to appear and it may take several hours for the victim to die but this victim died fairly quickly after the paralysis set in so I doubt it's curare. And it's not hyoscine, because I didn't find any trace of it in the liver. Neither is it strychnine or antimony, which is similar to arsenic, plus a few others I've ruled out. But the lab will come back with more accurate results.'

She pulled off her green gown to reveal her boyish figure in a pair of tight jeans and T shirt. Horton wondered what she'd look like in a dress, the kind she might wear to the police dinner and dance, if he invited her. And if she accepted.

'I'm going to do some research, and I'd also like to talk to someone who saw the victim collapse.'

Horton could see nothing for it but to put her in touch with Kenneth Gutner. He would ask him not to mention the conversation he'd overheard between Brundall and Gilmore. If he told him it had to be kept quiet, as it was vital evidence, then he trusted Gutner to do so.

'And Anne Schofield?' Horton asked.

'There was no evidence of soot in the airways below the level of vocal cords, and the levels of carboxyhaemoglobin were well below ten per cent, which means that she was already dead when the fire started.'

That was a relief. He didn't like to think of her regaining consciousness to be consumed by flames.

'She was struck on the back of the head,' Gaye said, 'and, judging by the indentation in the skull, I would say you are looking for something that has an edge to it, and is five inches in length.'

Horton thought of that brass candlestick that Taylor had shown him. Its base was about the right size.

'So it's a similar pattern to Tom Brundall's death.'

'Yes. He was knocked unconscious before the fire was started but the shape of his wound is different, which means different implements were used.'

'Sherbourne was strangled before being left to burn.'

'You've let one get away from me!' she teased.

'Sherbourne was killed in Guernsey.' He wished though he could have got Gaye Clayton to examine him. It wasn't that he distrusted the Guernsey pathologist, just that he would have liked some consistency in this case.

Her face flushed red and her eyes blazed. 'So that's what prehistoric man was driving at. Did he think I'd missed something so basic like strangling?'

Gaye was going to have Dennings for breakfast when he got back. Horton hoped he'd be there to witness it. It would cheer him up no end because he was convinced that

Gaye Clayton would make mincemeat of the DI.

'Sherbourne was Tom Brundall's solicitor,' he said hastily. 'He visited him on the day that Brundall died.'

'You have got your work cut out!'

'And that's not all-'

'Not another one!'

'Yes. But this one's been dead for some time. We found a skeleton in the air-raid shelter in Gilmore's garden.'

She widened her eyes at him.

'There's no indication how long it's been there, but the same man who witnessed Rowland Gilmore die says he went into the shelter in 1995 and there weren't any bones then. I'm having the bones bagged up and brought over to you. It'll probably be later today.'

'Well, never let it be said that I don't like a challenge and you're certainly giving me that with this case. Just don't let ape man anywhere near me.'

'I'll make sure all the flights from Guernsey to England are cancelled.'

She smiled. 'Are you sure he can't walk on water?'

'Not righteous enough. He's worked in the vice squad.'

'That explains it.'

'What?'

'Never mind.' She turned away and then almost instantly turned back again. 'Oh, how's Sergeant Cantelli's dad? Dave Trueman told me.'

'He's not doing too badly.'

'Good.' She held his eyes for an instant, and he found it difficult to interpret what she was thinking, only that whatever it was it made the blood once again rush to his loins. She had reached the plastic curtained door before she called out, 'Give the sergeant my love.'

'Which one?' Horton shouted back, then wished he hadn't as his voice ended on a squeak.

'The dark romantic one.'

That had to be Cantelli, didn't it? And, surprised, Horton found himself feeling mildly jealous before she said, 'And look after that throat, Inspector.'

Thirteen

By the time Horton reached his office it was early evening. It had been a long day with a painful chest and a sore throat that hadn't improved as the hours had sped by. Marsden had drawn a blank at the cemetery, and Cantelli, who had been scouring the CCTV recordings for the last couple of hours for signs of Brundall's car in and around that area, had had no joy either. Walters was still trying to track down the muggers, as well as handle a spate of afternoon burglaries in Southsea where thieves had targeted Christmas presents, and DCI Bliss looked as though she was about to have a seizure unless she got some extra officers, or they managed to clear up one case, at least.

Trueman told him there had been words between her and Uckfield behind the closed door and shuttered blinds of the super's office, and he'd heard DCI Bliss had complained to Superintendent Reine. Horton wasn't sure what that would achieve; every department was stretched at this time of the year, and Reine was notoriously weak when it came to fighting his corner with Uckfield. Thankfully Bliss had left the station to attend a community meeting. Horton had half expected her to delegate the task to him, which was usual, but perhaps she'd taken pity on his throat. Either that or there was some prestige in her being there, which he suspected was nearer the truth.