Death Lies Beneath (27 page)

Horton could see the effort to speak was costing him dear. He wasn’t without pity or sympathy, but he couldn’t condone what this man had done. He said, ‘I’ll explain and you can correct me when I go wrong and agree where I indicate.’ It wouldn’t hold up in a court of law but this man was never going to go before one again, certainly not in this world.

Garvard nodded fractionally to show he understood.

‘You met Amelia and Edgar Willard when they were on holiday in Spain staying at the villa rented by their niece, Sharon Piper. You were there working a time-share or property scam.’

‘The latter. 1997.’

‘Sharon saw through you immediately as you tried to get money from her, her husband having left her with a house, a boat and a life-insurance policy. You were two of a kind, you both had a desire for money and were clever, crooked and cunning enough to know how to get it from people and then invest it to make more for you rather than the people you conned into giving it to you in the first place.’

‘Yes.’ The word came out as a breath.

‘You even managed to get Edgar Willard to invest in one of your bogus schemes, which effectively took all his savings and eventually forced his widow to sell up and move to a smaller house.’

Garvard gave a slight shake of his head. Horton held the man’s weary pain-filled eyes. And then he realized what Garvard was silently telling him.

‘Or rather Sharon managed to get Edgar to invest in one of your schemes, or was it one of hers?’

Garvard closed his eyes as though to indicate that it was. But was that the truth? Kirby had said that Garvard was manipulative. Perhaps Garvard wanted them to believe Sharon had been the mastermind behind the fraud. The lies went deep in this investigation, just as Ellie and Sharon had ended up, deep under that quay.

He continued, ‘You met Ellie Loman at the Willards’ house when they were celebrating their pearl wedding anniversary. Rawly Willard, Ellie’s work colleague and the man who worshipped the ground she walked on, had invited her. Ellie and you began an affair. She arranged to meet you on Sunday the first of July and you went out on your boat together for the day. Was Sharon with a prospective client tricking him into parting with his money? She was very good at that. A stunningly attractive woman, sexy, convincing.’

Garvard opened his eyes.

Horton knew he’d guessed correctly. So who had Sharon been with that day? Had she managed to con him? And had this man recognized her at the crematorium, or perhaps even before then, when she had arrived in the UK, and killed her for revenge or in a rage when she refused to give back his money? Swiftly he brought his mind back to the man on the hospital bed and the events of that long-ago summer. ‘Sharon knew about your affair. And she knew where you would drop Ellie off after your day out in the Solent? How?’

Garvard shook his head slightly.

‘You don’t know? Perhaps she’d overheard you making arrangements,’ but Horton had another thought. Perhaps someone had told Sharon and that someone was Harry Foxbury because he had seen them leave from the sailing-club jetty or from the quayside in his boatyard. On a Sunday nobody would have been working in the yard but Foxbury could have been there. And perhaps Foxbury told Sharon because he fancied her or had had a fling with her. Horton didn’t think Foxbury would ever have been one of Sharon’s victims because he was too fly for that. But even if he had told Sharon, Foxbury it seemed was in the clear for her murder and hadn’t met her on Tuesday afternoon.

He continued. ‘Sharon went to the boatyard and waited for you to return, staying out of sight until Ellie got off the boat and waved you goodbye. As she made to leave, Sharon stepped out from where she’d been hiding, hit Ellie violently on the back of the head and then pushed her body into the sea. Maybe you turned and saw it, or perhaps when Ellie didn’t show for the next meeting with you, you became suspicious. When Ellie was reported missing you guessed that Sharon had to be behind it.’

Horton glanced at the prison officer, who nodded, he didn’t have much to write of Garvard’s end of the conversation but he was hopefully noting Garvard’s gestures and his summary of the situation.

He said, ‘When she betrayed you to the police she knew she was safe from being implicated because if you uttered one word about her killing Ellie, she would tell the police where to find Ellie’s body and swear blind you’d killed her. There would be evidence on your boat of Ellie’s presence and probably witnesses who had seen you on the boat together or when you had put in somewhere. You’d be done for murder
and
fraud. So you said nothing. Better to be convicted for fraud rather than a longer sentence for murder. You did your time.’

‘Die doing it . . . got my revenge,’ Garvard croaked. Despite the weakness of his voice Horton could hear the bitterness in it.

Garvard closed his eyes. Horton could see that soon he would drift into unconsciousness, possibly for the final time. But there was still much he needed to know. With new urgency he said, ‘How did you get Sharon to come back for the funeral? She was living in Spain. Did you know where?’

Garvard gave a slight shake of his head. Horton thought there was a small smile on his lips.

‘How did she hear that her aunt had died?’

Could Foxbury have kept in touch with her and told her? Or had Gregory Harlow known where Sharon was and told her, but why should he if Sharon wanted money from him? No, Gregory and Patricia Harlow had only placed an announcement in the local newspaper to let Amelia’s friends know about the funeral arrangements. And then it came to him. There was someone who could have contacted Sharon.

‘Fiona Wright.’

Garvard’s eyes opened and although the man didn’t speak, Horton saw that he was right. Keenly he pressed on, as his mind scrambled to put together the pieces. ‘While undergoing your radiotherapy treatment you saw Amelia Willard at the hospital, she was also there for her radiotherapy treatment.’ Horton didn’t know this for a fact yet, but he was ready to stake his career on it, and the fact that somehow Garvard had got Fiona Wright involved.

‘You struck up a relationship with Fiona Wright. You pumped her for information on Amelia.’

He reckoned that Garvard had wanted to know about Amelia’s cancer and the prognosis. Perhaps he’d even seen Patricia Harlow with her aunt. ‘You extracted a promise from Fiona Wright that when Amelia died she would get a message to Sharon and the only way she could do that – if it’s true you didn’t know where Sharon was living – was by placing announcements about the death in the national newspapers, or the Spanish ones, or both, hoping that Sharon would see it and act on it.’

‘
Telegraph.
Sharon always read it,’ Garvard replied falteringly. ‘Knew wouldn’t be able to resist . . . money involved.’

And that would be simple to check. Horton let out a breath, it was beginning to come together, but he still had more questions. He sat forward on the edge of the chair. ‘You had also arranged for Woodley to kill Sharon but it went wrong. Did Woodley refuse once he was on the outside? Did he get a message back to you inside that he’d changed his mind, and that he’d only agreed to it to get Stapleton off his back, the staged attack on Stapleton suited all three of you. So you had to arrange for someone to take him out? And someone to kill Sharon in the same place she killed and left Ellie Loman, because you wanted Ellie’s bones to be found. Who did you pay to kill Sharon and leave Daryl Woodley for dead after they’d bungled the first attack on him? Reggie Thomas? Or was it one of Marty Stapleton’s gang on the outside?’

Horton saw a smile touch the dying man’s face. He’d got it wrong. Damn. He could see Garvard slipping away. Urgently he pressed on, ‘Who killed Sharon, Leo?’

Garvard was deteriorating fast, the door opened and an angry nurse hurried in.

‘No more. You must leave now.’

Horton was desperate. He glanced at the prison officer, who shrugged. The nurse glared at him. Ignoring her, Horton addressed the dying man. ‘Leo, who killed Sharon?’

‘Inspector, please,’ the nurse demanded.

Horton rose. There was nothing more he could do. He turned to leave when a sound came from the bed. He spun round.

‘Got even with her,’ Garvard croaked. ‘Found Ellie . . . See her soon . . . loved her . . .’ He slipped into unconsciousness.

Disappointed, Horton left. Outside he asked the prison officer to sign the bottom of each page of notes and give them to him.

‘I didn’t get much of what you said, Inspector, but I got a few of the points you made and Garvard’s comments and reactions. Hope you can read my writing.’

‘It’s better than mine.’

He was glad to get out in the fresh air even though it didn’t feel fresh. The day had turned sour and the sun was skulking behind a menacing dark sky. Elkins’ prediction of thunder looked like being fulfilled any moment. His head was pounding as he called up a patrol car and while waiting for it he paced the busy road chewing over the interview. Something Garvard said, or rather how he’d said it, struck him. It was those last words.
Found Ellie.
Did that mean he hadn’t known where her body had lain all these years or that by arranging to have Sharon killed there the police would discover Ellie’s remains? It had to be the latter, surely. And he had a sinking feeling that they would never discover who had killed Sharon Piper especially if Garvard had hired a professional killer via Stapleton’s contacts to do it. And Stapleton was never going to tell.

He continued to mull this over as the patrol car drove him back to Fishbourne, where the police launch was waiting for him. Garvard had known that Sharon would return for her aunt’s cremation and had organized, through Fiona Wright, an announcement to be placed in the
Daily Telegraph
but neither he nor Fiona Wright could have arranged for Woodley’s funeral to be held on the same day, and none of the Woodley crowd had any involvement in the arrangements either. So was that just one of life’s coincidences? It seemed to be.

Horton knew that Fiona Wright hadn’t killed Sharon Piper because Dr Clayton had given her a lift home. So if the killer wasn’t Gregory Harlow, Reggie Thomas, Harry Foxbury or a hired hit man then who else could it be?
Think like Garvard
, he urged his sluggish brain. Why would Woodley need that photograph of Sharon Piper? What was Woodley’s purpose if it wasn’t to kill Sharon? If Garvard knew that Ellie’s bones were at Tipner Quay then who else would he enlist to kill Ellie’s murderer? Then he had it. Kenneth Loman.

Woodley had never been Sharon’s intended killer, he was Garvard’s messenger boy. He was to make contact with Kenneth Loman and tell him that Sharon knew something about his daughter’s disappearance and that she was returning for her aunt’s funeral. Yes, that fitted. Loman wouldn’t have known what Sharon Piper looked like, hence the need for the photograph. Woodley had probably told Loman that he had information indicating that Tipner Quay was significant and was probably the last place anyone had seen Ellie alive. Yes, he rapidly thought. Once Woodley had delivered his message all Loman had to do was scan the local newspaper every day until the announcement of Amelia Willard’s funeral appeared, go to the crematorium and tell Sharon that unless she agreed to meet him at Tipner Quay he would go to the police. She agreed but she probably had no intention of telling Loman she’d killed Ellie. Or perhaps she told him it was accident or she tried to pin the blame on Garvard.

Loman, distraught, angry and motivated by revenge, stuck that knife in Sharon Piper’s back. He could easily have walked to the boatyard to meet her, not wanting to be seen, and then driven her car away and dumped it, after killing her. And Loman could also have killed Gregory Harlow because Harlow had arrived at the boatyard as arranged with Sharon and seen Loman. That meant Loman would have had to cross to the Isle of Wight by ferry, and perhaps Gregory Harlow had picked him up. Loman could have fabricated some story to convince Harlow they needed to talk. But Horton frowned with puzzlement. It fitted except for two things. He could swear that Loman’s reaction to the news that they’d found his daughter’s remains was genuine grief. And, secondly, he just couldn’t see Loman prising open Harlow’s jaw and making him swallow drugs and drink. But if Loman was their killer then the person who Sharon had spent the afternoon with eating lobster and drinking white wine had nothing to do with her death.

On the launch he rang Uckfield. While waiting for him to answer Horton stared out at a muddy and very choppy dark bluey-green sea which the wind was whipping up into angry white spray. Thunder growled out to sea somewhere beyond the Isle of Wight. Cantelli would have hated this crossing. He hoped the sergeant had enjoyed his holiday. He would be glad to have him back on Monday. He wondered if they’d have the answers to this investigation by then. They were close but still it might drag on. And if it did, how long would Eames stay? What would Cantelli make of her?

When Uckfield answered, Horton gave him a concise report drawing a few grunts and ‘bloody hells’ along the way. When he had finished, Uckfield said, ‘We’ll bring Loman in for questioning.’

‘Go easy with him, Steve. He didn’t kill his daughter. I also think that if he did kill Harlow, he would have confessed to it.’

‘He still might when we confront him about it,’ Uckfield grunted.

Horton reluctantly agreed that was possible. He rang off after telling Uckfield that he’d go to the hospital and interview Fiona Wright. And as the Portsmouth coast loomed closer he turned his mind as to how he’d play it.

A
s it was he didn’t have to say much. ‘Tell me about the advertisement Leo Garvard asked you to place in the
Daily Telegraph
.’

‘He’s dead?’ she asked, concerned.

‘No. But I don’t think it will be long now.’

She bit her lower lip and pushed a hand through her brown hair. ‘I’d like to be there, but that depends on you, I suppose.’ She waved him into a seat in her consulting room, anxiety etched on her tired face.

‘If all you did was place that announcement then you won’t be detained for long. You might make it in time.’
All you did
, he thought. And that small act had brought Sharon Piper to her death, which in turn had led Gregory Harlow to his.