Blood on the Sand (31 page)

   'Well?' he asked sharply, hoping.

   'There's no record of Sutton having worked at Whitefields in 1959. I called the editor of the local rag, Sonia Belman, and asked her what she knew about Whitefields. She said there was quite a furore over demolishing the old house. Jack Cawley, the developer, was set on pulling it down. That way, he said, he could build more houses. And he got his wish. The NHS Trust was glad to get shot of it. The land was contaminated, some kind of chemical was found underground in places.'

   'Chemical? What chemical?' Horton had read nothing on the Internet about that.

   'I don't know.'

   'Find out who handled the sale on behalf of the Trust.'

   'Already have. It was a man called Noel Halliwell. And before you ask, you can't talk to him unless you enlist the help of Gordon Elms. He died not long after, in 1993. Suicide.'

   'Why did he kill himself ?'

   'No idea. Sonia says that no note was found with the body. He hanged himself.'

   Horton frowned in irritation. 'What about the developer, Jack Cawley?'

   'He's also dead.'

   So that was it. Another dead end, unless . . . 'Hold on – Jack?'

   'Yes. It's a fairly common name.'

   It was but Horton's mind quickly trawled through a previous conversation
'I ran a property
development company, with my late husband, Jack, for fifteen years.'

   Had this Jack Cawley been Laura Rosewood's husband? Did she know anything about the land being contaminated? If so then why should it matter? How could it have any connection with Sir Christopher Sutton? And how could it be connected to Helen Carlsson's death? Horton watched the seagulls dive over the area where Owen Carlsson had been found. He didn't know but he needed to find out.

L
aura Rosewood wasn't at home. Instead he found the silent Julie, her hired help. This time she spoke.

   'Laura's on her way to Brussels. You've only just missed her. Can I help?'

   Horton doubted it. Annoyed at missing Laura, and frustrated that he couldn't get the answers to the questions bugging him, he stepped inside the hall at Julie's invitation, and thought, what the hell, he might as well ask. 'Was Jack Cawley Ms Rosewood's husband?'

   'Yes.'

   'Why doesn't she use her married name?'

   'I don't know. You'd have to ask her that. Not every businesswoman does.'

   He guessed not.

   'Why do you want to know?' she asked, eyeing him curiously and a little suspiciously.

   Horton didn't see any harm in telling her. 'I'm interested in the development of Whitefields, the old mental hospital.'

   Julie looked surprised. 'That was a long time ago. Is it important?'

   'It could be.'

   'And something to do with these murders?'

   'Possibly.'

   'Then you might catch Laura at the cottage.'

   Horton didn't bother to hide his surprise. Uckfield hadn't mentioned any cottage, but then why should he? Maybe he didn't know about it.

   'She's got a house near Quarr Abbey on the north coast,' Julie explained in response to Horton's baffled expression. 'It's called
Tideways
. It's not far from the old church near Binstead Hard. Laura said she was calling in there before catching the ferry to Portsmouth. Do you want me to phone and see if she's there?'

   'No,' Horton said quickly. 'I'll take a chance on finding her in.' If she was then fine, if not then it would be time to go home and ask Marsden to follow up the lead he had uncovered once he was back in Portsmouth. He knew DCI Birch would prevent that, however, especially when Horton couldn't say exactly what that lead was. Helen
might
have gone to Whitefields in 1990, she
might
have taken photographs, she
might
have been killed because of it. But why? He still had no idea.

   Horton found
Tideways
without too much difficulty. It was at the end of a quiet, narrow lane that led towards the sea. Turning the Harley into a twisting driveway bordered by naked trees, he pulled up outside a substantial house built in grey Isle of Wight stone. It looked to be about a hundred years old, was solid, with a square stone porch and three storeys high. He guessed that the low slung sports car with a suitcase on the back seat belonged to Laura. Thank God he had caught her.

   'I have a boat and plane to catch,' she said, letting him in and dashing a glance at her watch. He might be pleased to find her in but clearly she wasn't too thrilled to see him. Neither was she surprised. Despite asking Julie not to alert her boss, she had obviously done so. Perhaps he should be grateful otherwise he might have missed her.

   'I won't keep you a moment, Ms Rosewood. I just need some information.'

   'Is it about the murder? Only Steve – Superintendent Uckfield – has told me that Thea Carlsson killed her brother and Jonathan Anmore. I feel sorry for her. She's obviously unbalanced.'

   As she spoke he followed her through to a lounge with wide patio doors that looked out across a broad sweep of grass and beyond it a substantial log cabin facing a pontoon and a grey turbulent Solent.

   He wondered at Uckfield's change of heart when not long ago he was bellowing down the telephone wanting to know what was going on. But then Birch must have told Uckfield that Anmore had called Thea in the hospital. And that had clinched it.

   'Whitefields,' he said. 'I understand your husband, Jack Cawley, developed it.'

   'He did,' she answered, surprised. 'Why the interest?'

   'What can you tell me about the contaminated land?'

   She frowned, clearly puzzled by his line of questioning. 'Jack had it cleaned before developing it, but what has this to do with Thea Carlsson?'

   He didn't know. Probably nothing but, reluctant to give up on it, he asked, 'What was the land contaminated with?'

   'I've no idea.' She was eyeing him as though he was slightly mad. After a moment she gave a small sigh and her expression softened. 'You don't believe Thea is the killer, do you?'

   'No.'

   She looked at him sadly. 'Why?'

   He wasn't going to tell her that. Instead he said, 'Did Jack ever talk to you about Helen or Lars Carlsson?'

   'No.'

   'Did Owen mention them to you?'

   'No.'

   But Horton knew immediately that was a lie. And she saw that he knew it.

   She held his gaze. He could see she was deciding on a course of action. He hoped it was to tell him something that would help him prove Thea was not a killer, but he wasn't holding his breath.

   After a moment she said, 'I'm sorry, that wasn't the truth.' She crossed to the glass doors and stared out for a moment before turning back with a troubled expression. 'I don't think you're going to like what I'm going to tell you, Inspector. It concerns Thea.'

   'Go on,' he said stiffly, steeling himself for the worse.

   'Owen did talk about his parents. He told me how their sudden death had affected his sister – mentally. He said he was very concerned about Thea living alone and so far away. He wanted to bring her to the island, to live with him and Arina. Arina told me that she and Owen were getting married and that's why Owen visited his sister alone over Christmas to break the news to her. He wasn't sure how she would take it.'

   'And how did she take it?' Horton stiffened.

   'Badly. You see, she was very jealous of Owen showing affection to anyone else. You can understand it with her parents' tragic death.'

   And this was what Birch had meant by his comment about Thea's 'unhealthy' relationship with her brother. Somewhere in her medical notes there must have been a note on it. And now it seemed even more likely that Thea had arranged for Anmore to kill Arina when she had been here over the New Year.

   'Why didn't you tell us this before?' Horton said bluntly, watching her reaction.

   'I should have done. I know. But I genuinely thought Owen's death was concerned with the project. I only told Superintendent Uckfield a short time ago.'

   And that was why Uckfield had lost interest in the case. As far as he was concerned it was solved. Horton fought desperately to fight off his anger and disappointment.

   She said, 'How could I believe Thea could have anything to do with killing her own flesh and blood? I didn't think she was capable of such a terrible thing until . . .'

   'What?' he asked sharply. With each passing word from Laura Rosewood he felt more and more despondent.

   'She came here and told me.'

   'When?' he cried, surprised.

   'About an hour ago. Thea called me and asked to meet me.'

   'She's here now?' he asked, straining for any sound of her but hearing only the wind and rain and the pounding of the blood in his ears.

   Laura shook her head and looked worried. 'No. When Julie phoned to say you were on your way she left. I don't know where she went.'

   Horton cursed Julie vehemently and silently. He stared beyond Laura to the summer house.

   'I thought that I might be able to get Thea some professional help,' Laura added. 'But I knew that if I called the police or told Steve she was here, he'd tell Birch and I've met him once or twice and don't much care for him. It would mean hanging on for someone to arrive and then making my statement. So I decided I'd leave for Brussels and call Reg, the Chief Constable, when I got there and tell him everything. Only now you've shown up, I can tell you. I know you'll see that Thea is treated properly, and besides,' she shrugged, 'I've missed my flight.'

   Horton felt relieved she hadn't called Uckfield or Birch. 'Have you any idea where she might have gone?'

   'I doubt it would be far.'

   'Like your summer house?' he said, interpreting her earlier nervous glances towards it.

   There was a frightened pause. Then, resigned, she said, 'I'll take you down there.'

   She brushed past him into the hall and through to a large gleaming modern kitchen at the rear of the house. Taking an ankle-length raincoat from the hook in an adjacent utility room she shrugged it on and slipped her feet into Wellingtons. Then ramming a waterproof hat on her blonde hair, she opened the door and the wind rushed in.

   Horton had abandoned all thoughts of getting his boat back to the mainland ages ago. The tall pampas was bucking in the gale and he could hear the booming of the waves as they crashed and burst on the shore, filling the air with the taste of salt. As he accompanied her down the long stretch of grass, the rain bashing into his face, his motorcycle boots squelching in the water-logged grass, his brain was whirling with the events she'd just described to him, trying to fit it with everything he'd seen and heard over the last week. He tried to calm himself. Soon he would see Thea. And soon he'd be able to help her.

   Laura Rosewood pushed open the door and flicked on the electric light. They were standing in a sturdy single-storey, timber-clad building. Glazed doors with windows either side of it opened on to a decking area and a jetty at the end of which Horton could just about see a RIB, tossing wildly in the waves and wind. There was no sign of Thea inside or out. Damn. He needed to find her. He reached for his mobile but Laura prevented him.

   'There's something you should know before you call for help.' She sat down and gestured Horton into a seat. When she saw he was reluctant to take it, she said, 'Thea couldn't have got far in this weather. And it's probably best you hear it all now before DCI Birch catches up with her.'

   Reluctantly he perched on the edge of the wicker chair opposite.

   She wrenched off her hat and with an anxious expression said, 'Owen confided something in me and Thea's just told me the rest. It's not a very happy story.'

   'Go on,' he prompted when she stalled.

   Taking a deep breath she said, 'Owen killed his parents. And Thea found out.'

   It was just as he and Cantelli had worked out! He had hoped it wasn't true. He nodded at her to continue.

   'Thea discovered that when Owen was a student at Southampton University he got a girl into trouble.'

   This must have been the 'girl' that Thea had asked Bohman about.

   Laura said, 'But it wasn't a simple case of pregnancy; the girl claimed that Owen had raped her. And before you ask, it never got as far as the police because Owen asked his parents to help him out. He wanted money to pay the girl off, a tart I believe, but one who had her head screwed on and very believable. You probably know the type, Inspector.'

   Oh, he did. Lucy Richardson, who had accused him of rape, had been believed in all quarters, even by Catherine.

   'Owen's parents refused to pay up though,' Laura continued. 'They said they would see her in court first. And Owen knew that it would ruin his life and his career.'

   'And Owen confided this to you?'

   She fiddled with her hat. 'Only about getting the girl pregnant. He said she had died in a road accident shortly after their affair but Thea told me the real story.' She looked up defiantly. 'Owen and I had a brief affair before he met Arina. That's why Thea came to me. She knew Owen and I had been close, and there was no one else she could turn to.'

   
She could have come to me.
But then he was a policeman. He felt bitterly disappointed.

   Laura continued. 'Thea told me that her brother had confessed to her that he couldn't let this girl destroy his life so he killed her in a hit-and-run accident. Yes, the same way that Arina died.'

   'But Owen didn't kill Arina.'

   'No, Jonathan Anmore did.'

   Horton could see now the pattern of events.

   Laura continued. 'I didn't know this of course until Thea told me an hour ago. You see, Owen thought Arina had discovered his secret, the one he'd do anything to protect. And though he loved her, he couldn't let her live knowing what he'd done – and besides, he knew she would no longer love him when she discovered the truth. He couldn't face that kind of rejection. Jonathan told Thea this at Arina's funeral––'