Pauline Rowson - Footsteps on the Shore

‘But he did, and he went to prison for it,’ Cantelli said.

‘But he’s served his time and learnt his lesson.’

Horton wasn’t convinced of the latter and Felton certainly hadn’t served his full term. He wondered if Catherine’s father was aware of Felton’s record. He asked her.

‘Toby leaves me to engage the right people. It’s my job,’ she replied haughtily.

Which meant no. Horton said, ‘You’d better tell him before someone else does.’

She opened her mouth to reply but Cantelli got there first. ‘When was the last time you saw him, Miss Masters?’

‘Tuesday evening. He left here just after six.’

Horton studied her carefully. She could be lying. Perhaps Luke Felton had spent the evening with her, or the night, and now she was too concerned to admit it.

Cantelli again. ‘Did he contact you after that, to tell you he wasn’t coming into work perhaps?’

‘I didn’t even know he hadn’t been in until this morning. I was at a conference in London on Wednesday and Thursday. When I discovered this morning that he hadn’t been into work and hadn’t reported sick I called the number he gave me. The man I spoke to, a Mr Harmsworth, said he didn’t know where Luke was, so I called Matt. Perhaps he’s had an accident.’

Walters had already ruled that out, locally at least. Horton said, ‘Did Luke talk to you about his time in prison?’

‘No.’

That was clearly a lie. Her eyes darted away from him. Horton reckoned she’d had a nice little post-coital chat with Luke about that, and probably a lot more.

Cantelli said, ‘Did he speak of his friends or family?’

‘No,’ she answered with a note of exasperation. ‘He worked.’ She was beginning to look frazzled.

‘Was there any member of staff he talked to or seemed close to?’

‘I’ve already said. He worked alone.’

That didn’t stop him communicating with someone, thought Horton. With a glance at Cantelli, he said, ‘We need to talk to the staff.’ Cantelli put away his notebook.

‘Is that really necessary?’ she said in alarm. ‘They won’t be able to help you.’

Horton knew the reason for her trepidation. She’d come in for some criticism over her decision to engage an ex-convict. Well, that was her lookout.

Cantelli slipped out of the office, aiming a silent plea at Horton, urging him to go easy. Kelly Masters watched him go with fear and a fidget.

‘Did Luke speak to any customers on the telephone?’ Horton asked.

‘He had no need to.’

‘But you weren’t with him in his office. So you don’t know that for sure.’

‘I do because there’s no telephone at his work station,’ she cried triumphantly.

‘What about email? I take it he would have had access to that and the Internet.’

She squirmed. ‘Well, yes.’

Horton rose. ‘Show me where Luke worked.’

With ill grace she hauled herself up and led him through the corridor to a small office on the right. There was no one in it, but beyond the glass partitioning Horton could see Cantelli talking to a group of people in a large open-plan office. Catherine wasn’t among them, but then she had her own office on the other side of the reception area. And was she in there now? he wondered. Had she returned?

With a churning gut, he pushed thoughts of her away and turned his attention to the desk in front of him. On it was a computer monitor and little else. He opened the desk drawers — only some paper and pens.

‘Did Luke have a laptop or mobile phone?’

‘Not that I know of,’ she said sulkily.

‘No one is to touch this computer. I’ll send someone to collect it. I’ll also need access to any passwords.’ They needed to check which sites Felton had visited and who he’d communicated with. He didn’t think that was Ronnie Rookley. He doubted Rookley even knew how to switch on a computer. But Felton could have been involved in something that had led to his body being washed up in the harbour — if it was him.

She was looking worried, as well she might. Toby Kempton wasn’t going to be very pleased if his company name appeared in the press along with that of a convicted criminal. Catherine, as marketing manager, would have the media on her back, and bloody good luck to her, he thought, not without a touch of malicious satisfaction. He knew that Bliss’s instructions to contain this story were about as likely to be fulfilled as a politician hiding an affair, because although Kelly Masters, Toby Kempton and Catherine wouldn’t blab, he wouldn’t put it past one of the employees Cantelli was talking to wanting to get his or her name in the newspapers.

By the time Horton returned to reception Cantelli was talking to the receptionist, a woman in her forties with straight dark hair in a short bob and a worried frown on her studious face. Cantelli broke off his conversation and headed towards Horton.

‘Andrea confirms that Luke Felton left here just after six o’clock on Tuesday night. She was just leaving herself and seems to have been the last person to have seen him.’

And that put it within the scope of Dr Price’s most recent estimate of the time of death for the body in the harbour, though Horton would wait for Gaye Clayton’s more precise prognosis before jumping to any conclusions. And before saying anything to Kelly Masters about it.

‘Luke was on foot,’ Cantelli was saying. ‘Andrea assumed he caught the bus. No one admits to knowing anything about Felton. They say they hardly spoke to him, he stayed in his room, eyes glued to his computer, fingers fixed on the keyboard. A typical geek who was a bit stuck up, talked posh and looked down his nose at everyone is the general view. No one mentioned him being released from prison, or the murder, so I said nothing about it, but I don’t think it’ll be long before word gets around.’

‘We’ll need to-’ but Horton didn’t get any further as the door to the right of reception burst open and a tall, silver-haired man in his late fifties charged out with an expression like a constipated bulldog.

‘What the devil is going on, Horton? What right do you have barging in here questioning my staff without my permission?’

Horton held the hot angry glare of Toby Kempton, noting that he was no longer good old Andy. An employee had obviously already run hot-foot to the boss.

‘I have every right, Toby ,’ Horton stressed, feeling a small stab of victory as his father-in-law’s complexion darkened. ‘A potentially dangerous man, convicted of a brutal murder while under the influence of heroin, and out on conditional licence, has gone missing. And not only did you employ him but this was also the last place he was seen.’

‘Rubbish. This has nothing to do with me or my business.’

‘He worked here, Toby. He had access to the Internet where he could have made contact with someone who could have supplied him with drugs. He could have assaulted or killed someone-’

‘Could have is not good enough. I could have won the bloody lottery. I will not have you storming in here accusing my staff of harbouring a criminal, upsetting and unsettling them. When you have evidence then you can return. And only if I give my permission.’

Horton stepped forward. He could feel his temper rising; with an effort he tried to draw on the years of control he’d learnt in the children’s homes to contain it. Briskly he said, ‘No one has accused your staff of anything. Luke Felton worked here. Luke Felton is missing. We need to find him, and if you, or anyone else, prevents us from doing our job then you will be charged with hindering us in our enquiries.’ Kempton looked as though he was about to burst a blood vessel but Horton didn’t give a toss about that. ‘Someone will collect the computer Luke was working on and I suggest you cooperate.’