A Killing Coast Page 0,4

convinced. Sensing this Stanley quickly added, ‘I was a PC, told to talk to anyone who knew Jennifer Horton, and they were the only people I came up with. She didn’t seem to have any friends outside work.’

There was something in Stanley’s tone, in his manner and posture, that made Horton doubt this neatly wrapped excuse. He sensed there was more to it. Had Stanley or anyone really looked for Jennifer’s friends? It seemed not to him. The more questions Horton asked the more he seemed to generate and the fewer answers he got.

‘Why weren’t any fingerprints taken?’ If they had been then they certainly weren’t on the file.

Stanley shrugged. ‘No idea. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.’

Horton decided not to press him. For now. He rose and handed Stanley a business card. ‘If you remember anything would you give me a call?’

Stanley took the card with a sense of relief, Horton thought. After a moment Stanley said, ‘I hope you find out what happened to her.’

Part of Horton hoped so too, and another part of him hoped not, but he knew that not knowing would leave him with a permanent itch that would always need scratching.

He thanked Stanley and left with an uneasy feeling gnawing at him. As he negotiated the heavy morning traffic towards Gosport Marina he knew that Stanley had lied or rather he had held something back. Why? To spare his feelings? Possibly. But if so, what had Stanley uncovered about Jennifer’s disappearance that was so awful he couldn’t tell her son?

Horton shuddered. Perhaps he didn’t want to know. But he was compelled to find out despite or perhaps because of it. Mentally he replayed the interview. Stanley had shown no curiosity about why and when Horton had become a police officer. He hadn’t even been surprised. Why? The obvious answer was because he already knew, which meant either someone had told him, or Stanley had kept an eye on him over the years, and that seemed unlikely.

Secondly, Stanley hadn’t asked him why he had chosen now to find his mother when he’d had years and the opportunity to do so before. Stanley hadn’t so much as uttered the words, I expected you sooner. Either he was remarkably lacking in curiosity – which for an ex-copper was unusual – or he knew the reason why Horton was now raking up the past. Detective Chief Superintendent Sawyer must have interviewed Stanley and informed him that he might approach him. And perhaps Sawyer had left instructions with Stanley to say as little as possible and to contact him when Horton came calling. But why should he do that?

And another thing that bugged Horton, why wasn’t Stanley curious about what he would do next in his search for Jennifer? Stanley had simply said I hope you find out what happened to her. Did he not care or did he know that Horton would hit a brick wall? Or would someone keep Stanley informed? And there were only two people who could do that: Sawyer, or someone who knew the truth behind Jennifer’s disappearance. Was that Zeus?

Horton felt a cold shiver prick his spine as he swung into Gosport Marina and made his way to the waiting police launch on the pontoon. The sight of the glistening superyacht across the narrow stretch of Portsmouth Harbour, moored up at Oyster Quays opposite, made him shelve his concerns about Stanley and Zeus and filled him with new worries. It was the size of a small cruise ship and would act like a ruddy great beacon for all the lowlife scum of Portsmouth, and those higher up the slime, including villains from London, who would take great pleasure stripping it of its spoils, and that was even without the added attraction of a high-profile VIP charity auction and reception being held on board on Friday night, before she sailed off to the Caribbean or wherever.

‘It’s a beauty,’ Sergeant Dai Elkins said, following the direction of Horton’s gaze.

‘I prefer wind over motor,’ Horton replied, discarding his leather jacket in favour of a sailing jacket and life vest.

‘I wouldn’t send it back if it was offered me.’

Horton let his gaze travel over the four-decked cruiser as PC Ripley throttled back the launch and eased it into the busy channel. The portholes on the lower deck were probably crew accommodation, while the first and second decks with the wide windows must be the living accommodation. There was a huge flybridge, a swimming platform at the