Undercurrent (17 page)

‘He was probably too old to register on Alvita’s radar.’

‘Who was?’ Walters asked, waddling in. He looked well fed and as if to reinforce this emitted a loud belch.

‘How did you get on at Kings College?’ asked Horton, remembering that Walters was going to try them again.

‘No one knows anything about a seminar in Birmingham at the beginning of July, or any seminar held anywhere at that time.’

Another lie then. He considered what Cantelli had discovered and what Marcus Felspur had told him about the snatched conversation between Spalding and Redsall. So where had Spalding gone for those three days in July? And had that been alone? Suddenly with astonishing clarity the answer came to him – not to the last question but certainly the first. ‘Have you got anything from the airports?’ he asked.

‘Nothing yet.’

‘Then try checking the flights from Southampton to Belfast and Southampton to Dublin around that time.’

Cantelli quickly caught on. ‘You’re thinking Spalding met up with Redsall in Northern Ireland.’

‘It’s possible but I’ve no idea why.’ He told Walters to make a start looking through the security footage supplied by Oyster Quays as soon as he’d finished checking the flights, and to call him the moment he had anything on either. Then to Cantelli he said, ‘Let’s see if we can track down this Erica Leyton.’

‘S
he’s on the raft,’ a stocky, olive skinned man in his mid-forties with short-cropped dark hair informed them after some delay. At the main gate to the complex of the Institute of Marine Sciences the intercom had finally been answered by a woman who said she had no idea where Erica Leyton was and didn’t seem inclined to find out for them. Reluctantly, after some pressure, she’d agreed to ask around. Neither Horton nor Cantelli had much hope of a positive outcome but a few minutes later the buzzer had sounded to admit them and a man who introduced himself as Bradley Marshall had met them at the entrance to one of the larger of five buildings facing them. He explained that the raft was permanently moored in Langstone Harbour. ‘It’s where we conduct trials.’

Cantelli said, ‘I can think of some villains I wouldn’t mind putting on trial out there.’

Horton smiled. ‘That would mean you’d have to give evidence on it.’

Cantelli gave an exaggerated shudder.

Horton explained. ‘The sergeant gets sick just looking at the sea.’

Marshall smiled. ‘Then I’d better ask Erica if she can meet you on shore.’

Cantelli looked relieved.

‘What sort of trials do you carry out on it?’ Horton asked as Marshall led them through the building to the rear. He recalled seeing the large oblong low structure when out sailing. He’d thought it was connected with the water treatment and sewage works at Bedhampton, at the northern end of the harbour. Now he knew differently.

‘It’s for paint manufacturers mainly,’ Marshall tossed over his shoulder. ‘Or rather I should say for those companies who manufacture anti-fouling paint for sea-going craft, and we do trials for companies using underwater cable coatings, and scuba diving cylinders.’

‘Not for examining sea life then?’

‘No. But we have five aquarium rooms for studying fish biology and non-native organisms; the latter’s my area of specialism, the effects of the introduction of invasive and non-native species. Seaweeds and phytoplankton can come into the area on the current and once here can displace native organisms by preying on them or out-competing them for food, and space. It can lead to the elimination of indigenous species from certain areas. I’m sorry I’m boring you with my pet topic.’ Marshall smiled and pushed opened the rear door. ‘I find it fascinating so I expect everyone else to. It’s only when I see people’s eyes glaze over that I realize the world doesn’t revolve around marine biology, although it should, it has a major impact on many livelihoods, the economy and the food chain.’

Horton said, ‘I didn’t think you’d be working during the university holidays.’

‘Organisms don’t take vacations,’ Marshall replied, reaching for his mobile as they walked down towards the shore. ‘Our work continues throughout the year, commercial contracts to fulfil. I take it this is about Dr Spalding’s death?’

‘You knew him?’ asked Horton.

‘I recommended Erica to him and I used to see him when he visited Erica here. It’s tragic, such a waste. There she is.’

Across the small harbour Horton could see the figure of what appeared to be a youngish woman, probably in her twenties, dressed in loose-fitting blue overalls working alone on the raft. Surrounding the raft in the small harbour, although set some distance from it, were a variety of pleasure craft and small fishing boats. Horton watched the grey flat-bottomed Hayling ferry negotiating its way around a couple of boats northwards, which meant it was diverting from its usual course to pick up a couple of fishermen to bring them back to the shore at Portsmouth. He saw Erica Leyton reach for her phone in her overall pocket and look towards them and he heard Marshall ask her if she could return to shore where a couple of police officers would like to talk to her about Dr Spalding’s death. She nodded, put her phone back in her pocket and climbed off the raft into a small motor-boat.

Within a couple of minutes it was coming into shore. As she silenced the engine Marshall stepped forward and took the front of the boat. Erica Leyton jumped off.

‘I’m really sorry to hear about Dr Spalding’s death,’ she announced, unzipping her overalls and stepping out of them, rather provocatively Horton thought, to reveal a good figure encased in tight denim shorts hugging a neat backside, long suntanned legs and a suntanned cleavage above the low-cut aquamarine T-shirt. She looked as though she kept herself fit. Not a runner though. He guessed she worked out in a gym and wouldn’t mind an audience, especially a male one. Maybe he should find out which gym.

Marshall secured the boat. She threw him a smile which he returned before leaving them. Horton thought he glimpsed more than professional courtesy or friendship in their exchange. Pulling off her pink sailing cap she shook out her long light-brown curly hair.

Cantelli began the questioning. ‘We understand from Dr Menchip that you made a formal complaint against Dr Spalding for sexual harassment.’

She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I did no such thing. That’s Dr Menchip getting all het up. Really it was nothing. She asked me how I was getting on working with Dr Spalding. I was at the faculty that day meeting a friend for lunch. I said fine but I made a joke that he took working in close collaboration very literally. She didn’t consider that to be “professional”. She said she’d have a word with him. I told her not to. She took it completely the wrong way. I didn’t want to jeopardize the project. I was enjoying working with him and it meant having my name on his paper.’

‘When was this?’

She pushed a slender hand through her hair. ‘At the beginning of June.’

‘And did Dr Menchip speak to him?’

‘If she did he didn’t let on.’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Two weeks ago on July the twenty-fifth. How did he die? Was it an accident?’ Her eyes flicked to Horton’s and stayed there. He saw anxiety in hers and maybe a touch of guilt, which was confirmed when she added, ‘Only I wouldn’t want to think that I . . . well you know.’

‘We’re still investigating his death,’ he replied, thinking
well I am at least
. Her eyes studied his expression for a moment, seeking reassurance that her casual remarks hadn’t pushed Spalding over the edge. Maybe she found it because she gave a little nod. He said, ‘This project you were working on together, can you tell us something about it? Only I thought the Royal Navy rather than marine sciences was Dr Spalding’s area of specialization.’

‘It was, Inspector, but this time the two coincided. Dr Spalding was researching the relationships between the crew and the scientists on board HMS
Challenger
.’

Spalding had been a very busy man, thought Horton curiously. This was yet another area of research totally different to that he’d told Ivor Meadows and Marcus Felspur.

Cantelli looked up from his notebook. Interpreting his glance she explained with a smile, ‘The
Challenger
marked the birth of modern oceanography. It was a corvette class ship, a military vessel that travelled under sail but had auxiliary steam power. It was the first survey ship of its kind and left Portsmouth in January 1873 and for three and a half years circumnavigated the world with a crew of physicists, chemists, and biologists mapping the sea and discovering many new species. Dr Spalding was interested in life on board the
Challenger
not just for the officers and crew but for the scientists and he was particularly keen to research the relationships between them, how the crew reacted to the scientists, was there clear demarcation between them, were the scientists on the same level as the officers or did they consider themselves above them, that kind of thing. My PhD was about the
Challenger
’s survey, which was why Dr Marshall recommended me to Dr Spalding. I already had a great deal of information and reference sources. I compiled a list of the scientists on board, their professional backgrounds, and I have references to professional articles, journals and private diaries.’

Horton recalled what Beatrice Redsall had said about her family’s naval pedigree. Was it possible that a Redsall had served on board HMS
Challenger
between 1873 and 1876 and had that been the connection between Spalding and Redsall? But even if it were he couldn’t see how it would result in both men being killed. He asked her if she’d come across anyone called Redsall serving on the
Challenger.

‘The name doesn’t ring a bell. No, I’m sure there was no one of that name.’

‘So Dr Spalding didn’t ask you about him?’

She looked bewildered by his questions. ‘No.’

He thought her reaction genuine but he showed her the photograph of Redsall and asked if she recognized him. The answer was negative. There was possibly another connection. He said, ‘What happened to HMS
Challenger
?’

‘She was demoted to Coastguard watch ship at Harwich, then went into the reserves two years later. She was finally broken up at Chatham in 1921.’

So no wrecks there for a marine archaeologist to explore.

With a nod to Cantelli that they’d finished, Horton apologized for disturbing her experiments.

‘That’s OK. I needed a break anyway. If I can help in any way please let me know. Would you like my phone number?’

Horton said he would, adding to himself
for work, though, not for pleasure
. He keyed it into his mobile phone, seeing by her eyes and her body language that she wouldn’t mind the latter. She told them they could get back to the main entrance by way of a path around the side of the building and as they headed there Cantelli said, ‘My money’s on her leading Dr Spalding on rather than the other way around. I reckon she’s a bit of tease.’

Horton was inclined to agree. But how far had it gone? Erica Leyton had looked genuinely troubled by the fact that her remarks might have led to Spalding’s death but she wasn’t distraught over it. Climbing into the car he said, ‘Spalding might not have protested very strongly although Bradley Marshall might have done. He probably wished he’d never introduced them.’

‘Perhaps he killed Spalding because he was jealous,’ Cantelli said half jokingly, ‘And Redsall too. Maybe Erica was also having a fling with him.’

‘She’s been a busy girl certainly if she was also at it with Spalding but then she is quite a looker.’

‘So is Jacqueline Spalding,’ Cantelli said somewhat defiantly.

He pointed the car in the direction of the station and as they negotiated the crowded city streets Horton considered this. Neither Bradley Marshall nor Erica Leyton had been at Spalding’s lecture or on the pontoons at Oyster Quays and he didn’t see that they could have any motive for wanting both men dead. After a moment he said, ‘Could Sandra Menchip have been jealous that Spalding fancied Erica?’

‘Possibly, she’s divorced, and I didn’t see any evidence of anyone living with her. Maybe when Erica made those remarks, or maybe taunted her with them, she decided that if she couldn’t have him then she’d ruin him by smearing his name.’

‘So if she threatened to bring a disciplinary charge against him, would that be enough to make him hurl himself into that dock?’

Cantelli looked doubtful.

‘No, I don’t think so either.’

‘Sandra Menchip could have threatened to tell Mrs Spalding because she was jealous.’

‘I still can’t see him killing himself because of it. And that doesn’t fit with Redsall’s death.’

Thoughts were tumbling through Horton’s mind. He needed to get them into some kind of order but the trilling of his mobile phone interjected before he could do so. He expected Bliss but it was Walters.

‘Found him, Guv,’ he cried excitedly. ‘Spalding flew from Southampton to Belfast, Northern Ireland on the eight thirty-five a.m. flight on the fourth of July. He returned to Southampton on the seven fifty p.m. flight from Belfast arriving at Southampton at nine fifteen on the sixth of July.’

Horton felt a stab of triumph.

Walters continued, ‘There was no one else booked under his name.’

That didn’t mean he had travelled alone though. Spalding could still have gone to Belfast with a lover. With Erica Leyton?

‘Find out if he hired a car, caught a taxi or bought a train ticket at Belfast.’

Horton rang off and relayed the news to Cantelli, adding, ‘My money’s on him travelling to Coleraine to see Redsall, and if he did it rules out the theory of Redsall being an accidental victim because he saw someone drugging Spalding at the lecture.’

His mind rapidly replayed what he’d seen and learnt over the last couple of days. Painstakingly he began to pull it together, not knowing where it would lead. ‘We know that Spalding didn’t want his wife or his GP knowing where he was really going, so lie number one, he told Deacon he was going to the States and his wife he was going to Birmingham when he did neither. He flew to Northern Ireland. So why did he fly when he was terrified of it? He could have driven or taken the train to Birkenhead and caught the ferry to Belfast.’