Blood on the Sand (26 page)

   'Probably, but the records should show that.'

   Cantelli said, 'Perhaps it was hush-hush.'

   Trueman shrugged. 'Could be, which means that someone's conveniently lost that information or destroyed it. Or it could just be incompetence and someone forgot to fill in where Sutton was between September 1958 when he left Tripoli until he was discharged from the army in November 1959 and showed up for work at Guy's in January 1960.'

   Horton could feel his curiosity rising. He didn't like gaps of any kind, although Trueman could be right and this was probably just a piece of slipshod work. Even if it weren't, he didn't think it had any bearing on the case, except for one thing that still irked him: Owen's visit to Nelson.

   He stretched and rubbed his face. 'What was going on in the world in 1958 and 1959?'

   'The Cuban crisis,' Trueman said, promptly. 'Fidel Castro took over as premier on the sixteenth of February 1959 and brought the world to the brink of nuclear war as his alliance with the USSR provoked a missile crisis.'

   '
Our Man in Havana
,' muttered Cantelli.

   'It's a book,' confirmed Trueman to Horton's raised eyebrows.

   'And a film,' added Cantelli. 'By Carol Reed, starring Alec Guinness and Maureen O'Hara. 1959.'

   'If you say so,' Horton said. Cantelli was an expert on these things. 'But I can't see Sutton being in Havana or anywhere else in Cuba.'

   'Probably not,' Trueman agreed. 'But
Our Man in Havana
is a good book.'

   Suddenly something connected in Horton's tired brain. Book . . . Sutton . . . Of course! Trueman, you're a genius.'

   With a smile, Trueman said, 'I know that.'

   Horton leant forward. 'Bella Westbury, ex British Army Military Intelligence, shows up on the Isle of Wight and becomes housekeeper to Sir Christopher Sutton just when the man has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. And what do some people do when they discover they haven't got long left for this world?'

   Cantelli said, 'They confess.'

   'There's a Catholic for you.'

   Trueman caught on. 'Or they write a
book –
their memoirs.'

   Horton smiled triumphantly. 'Exactly! Bella said to me that she was leaving because her job was done. I thought she meant killing Arina, Owen and Jonathan Anmore and maybe even Thea Carlsson, but that wasn't her job, and neither has it anything to do with Owen's environmental project. Bella Westbury was here to stop Sir Christopher blabbing about where he was and what he was doing during 1959. My God, it makes sense.'

   He threw himself back in his seat and watched the expressions on Trueman's and Cantelli's faces before adding, 'By being in Scanaford House as housekeeper, she was able to field Sutton's calls, sift through his post and his possessions and make sure he wasn't about to break the Official Secrets Act, which he must have signed when doing National Service. She was also able to conduct a thorough search of Scanaford House after Arina Sutton was killed in case Sutton had left a written confession.'

   Cantelli said, 'So she did kill Arina.'

   Horton chewed it over. 'Only if Sir Christopher had told his daughter his secret on his deathbed.' And he could have done. Confession being good for the soul and all that. But he still couldn't see where Helen and Lars Carlsson came into it. Maybe they didn't and the fact that their deaths had occurred in the same place as Arina's had been just one of those weird coincidences. Or perhaps Owen
had ki
lled his parents and Arina really had been killed by a hit-and-run driver. Her death in Seaview had been the catalyst which had unlocked Owen's secret and set up a tragic chain of events ending in his death and Anmore's.

   He leant forward. He didn't much like what he had to say but there was no way round it. 'OK, theory number one. Bella Westbury is here to stop Sutton from blabbing about where he was in 1959 and to make sure he's left no written evidence when he dies. She can also check that Arina knows nothing about her father's secret, whatever it is. By some strange and tragic fluke Arina gets killed by a hit-and-run driver in the same place as Owen killed his parents. Because Owen loves Arina and was planning to marry her he believes her death is a punishment for him killing his parents. He calls on Nelson because he saw him at Sutton's funeral and is now worried he might have recognized him from 1990, when Nelson had treated Owen Carlsson, or knew something about his medical background. Thea comes home to comfort her brother. Owen by now is filled with guilt and remorse, and confesses to her what he did in 1990. She kills him, either with a gun Owen had, or she's teamed up with Anmore and used his gun. Then Thea kills Anmore and has gone into hiding.'

   'Or killed herself,' added Cantelli sorrowfully.

   Horton took a breath. He had to admit it was possible.

   'What's theory number two?' asked Trueman, pushing his plate away.

   'Bella Westbury is here to stop Sir Christopher Sutton's secret from coming out, but Sutton says something to his daughter before he dies. Arina tells or hints at this secret to Owen. When Arina is killed by Bella Westbury or someone working with her, Owen gets curious, concerned and angry. He starts to investigate if there is any truth in what Arina's told him, which takes him to Edward Nelson GP, Sir Christopher's old friend and colleague. Nelson tips Bella the wink, or someone who is working with her, so Owen Carlsson too has to be silenced.'

   'And Anmore?' asked Trueman.

   'Maybe he overheard something, or saw Bella talking to a colleague.'

   'Danesbrook?' suggested Cantelli.

   'I doubt he's got the intelligence to be working with a sharp operator like Bella, but we might as well haul him in again just in case he's brighter than he looks.' Horton scraped back his chair. To Trueman he said, 'Tell Marsden and Somerfield to pull Bella Westbury in. She could still be our killer.'

   'And you?' asked Trueman.

   'We're going to talk to Dr Edward Nelson.'

   Cantelli looked alarmed. 'We? I'll be no good to you, Andy. If I have to sail anywhere I'll be throwing up all over the place.'

   'OK. Interview Bella. See what you can get out of her.' Cantelli heaved a sigh of relief. To Trueman, Horton said, 'Dave, check out when Sutton was diagnosed with cancer. Has the warrant come through for Scanaford House?'

   'Yes.'

   'Then get a team in there even though we're too late. And another team into Danesbrook's place and Bella Westbury's cottage.'

   'How does this fit with the photograph and Helen and Lars Carlsson's death?' asked Cantelli, following Horton out of the canteen.

   Trueman said, 'Sutton was working in London at the Hammersmith Hospital as a consultant surgeon in 1990.'

   'Yes, but he owned Scanaford House then.' Horton saw it all in a flash. 'It has a ghost and Helen Carlsson was reputed to have been psychic, or at least interested in ghosts, hence the book she bought and inscribed for Thea, which went up in smoke in Owen's house. Maybe Helen went to photograph Scanaford House and saw Sir Christopher Sutton talking to someone from British Intelligence.'

   'Could it be this "girl" that Thea asked Peter Bohman about?'

   'Maybe, Barney. Or it could have been Bella Westbury.'

   Uckfield looked up from the crime board. 'Bloody hell, it's the three musketeers. I thought you lot had gone home.'

   'No, but I am going out,' Horton replied, picking up his helmet.

   'Where?'

   'Sergeant Cantelli will explain; I've got a ferry to catch.'

   Uckfield looked about to explode but Cantelli quickly interjected. 'I'll tell Dr Nelson you're on your way.'

   'No. I want to surprise him. I might catch him off guard. He must know more than he's told me.'

   'What if he's not in?' said Trueman.

   'He will be,' Horton replied with conviction.

N
elson showed no surprise as he opened the door. This time Horton was shown into a comfortably furnished lounge where a gas fire hissed incongruously in a large brick fireplace. There was no sign of Mrs Nelson and no explanation of where she was.

   Horton took a seat on the floral patterned sofa wondering if Nelson had been warned by someone that he was on his way. He didn't for a moment suspect either Trueman or Cantelli of going against his instructions, which meant he could have been followed, though he hadn't noticed anyone as he crossed on the ferry. And he'd seen no one watching Nelson's house.

   On the crossing, Horton had received a call from Cantelli. Despite Marsden and Somerfield's surveillance, Bella had somehow contrived to give them the slip. Horton wasn't really surprised. He didn't think Marsden and Somerfield had been incompetent but an old professional like Bella Westbury had probably already worked out an escape route. He suspected that she'd climbed over the garden wall into neighbouring properties until she could call a taxi, or meet up with someone ready to help her disappear.

   He told Cantelli to get Marsden to check the boat at Cowes, though he knew she'd be long gone, and to alert Sergeant Elkins of the marine unit to look out for it. Elkins would contact the harbourmasters and marinas around Portsmouth and along the south coast. He gave Cantelli the name of the boat, knowing that Bella Westbury could pull into any harbour, or even motor to London and up the Thames.

   'So how can I help you, Inspector?' Nelson said, switching off the television news and settling himself in the armchair to Horton's right.

   'Did you know Owen Carlsson before he came to visit you here?'

   'I met him at Christopher's funeral.'

   'I mean before then. Was he ever a patient of yours?'

   'No.'

   'Are you sure?'

   'I may be old but I am not senile, Inspector,' Nelson replied somewhat tartly. 'My memory is very good.'

   'I'm glad to hear it, sir, because in that case you can help me with another matter.' Nelson had played right into his hand. 'National Service,' he said flatly.

   Nelson raised his bushy eyebrows. 'What of it? I told you that Christopher and I served together in Tripoli.'

   'I don't think you did, sir,' Horton replied politely, knowing full well Nelson hadn't mentioned it.

   'I could have sworn I did. Maybe my memory is fading, after all.' Nelson's lips twitched in a sad smile, but the play-acting at dementia wasn't going to wash with Horton. There was nothing senile in Nelson's sharp gaze or behind the intelligent blue-grey eyes. Nelson saw he couldn't fool Horton and gave a small smile before adding, 'Christopher and I were both in the Royal Army Medical Corps and stationed at the British Military Hospital in Tripoli.'

   'Did you tell Owen Carlsson this?'

   'I don't recall mentioning it.'

   Nelson was stalling, waiting to see why Horton wanted to know and how much he already knew. Was he in the pay of British Intelligence? Could he have informed them that Sutton had terminal cancer?

   'Why do you want to know about our National Service time?' Nelson pressed when Horton remained silent. 'It was years ago.'

   Horton wasn't going to give him the full story, but he saw he would have to impart some of it, and a version of the truth, to gain his co-operation.

   'We believe that something happened then that has had repercussions recently.'

   'You mean resulting in Owen Carlsson's death?'

   'And others.'

   'Arina's? No, I can't believe that.' But Nelson was looking worried.

   'What happened in Tripoli?' Horton pressed. He could see Nelson weighing up how much to tell him. He held his breath waiting for it, but Nelson rose and crossed to the sherry decanter on a small table behind the door.

   'Drink, Inspector?'

   Horton declined, wondering if Nelson was preparing himself for the ordeal of revealing something from his and Sutton's past, or perhaps it was a diversionary tactic designed to give himself time to concoct a lie. Nelson poured himself a small sherry and returned to his seat before speaking.

   'Christopher and I were in National Service from 1956 to 1959 and stationed at the hospital in Tripoli for most of that time, or rather I was. Christopher left the hospital in 1958.'

   Horton already knew this. 'Where did he go?'

   'I don't know. Oh, you can look sceptical, Inspector, but I genuinely don't know where he went from the time he left Tripoli to when I bumped into him again in 1960 at Guy's Hospital.'

   'Didn't you ask him?' Horton said, irritated, and not bothering to hide his exasperation.

   'No. It didn't seem relevant. Besides I sensed that Christopher didn't want to talk about it. He was never one for looking back anyway, and we were both keen to get on with our lives and our careers. After I completed my time as a registrar I decided to go into general practice and Christopher, as you know, rose to the dizzy heights of consultant surgeon and finally as an adviser to the government on mental health law. Ah, I see you didn't know that.'

   Nothing got past this man. Nelson would have made a good copper. Perhaps he should put him on to interviewing Roy Danesbrook who, Cantelli had said, had protested vehemently at being dragged in for the third time. Well, tough. But Horton wondered if Danesbrook had known about this government advisory position of Sutton's. He wouldn't mind betting that Bella had told him. It would have given Danesbrook further ammunition to use when selling the idea of his charitable project to Sutton.

   Nelson said, 'After Christopher retired in 1992, he was attached to the Neurological Unit of the Behavioural and Clinical Neuroscience Research Institute. From there he was appointed to the expert committee to advise ministers on mental health law.'

   With bitterness Horton said, 'The committee that let out all the psychopaths and paedophiles for us to locate and bang up again after they had destroyed more lives.' There had been a furore over it a few years ago and rightly so. Suddenly, heavy with fatigue, Horton wondered if Nelson had given him yet another reason why Arina had been killed. Maybe this case had nothing to do with Sutton's National Service or Helen and Lars Carlsson. They could be looking at a whole new spectrum of suspects – an avenging father, brother or uncle. Someone who had killed Arina because her father had been on a committee that had recommended the killer's release. But no, he was complicating things, or at least he bloody hoped he was.