Pauline Rowson - The Suffocating Sea

'I do. It's just I'm on surveillance.'

'Should have switched off your phone then. It was puffer-fish.' And she rang off.

Before he could even digest what she had said his phone rang again and this time it was Trueman.

'The house is owned by a James Rowthorpe.'

The name meant nothing to Horton but then Croxton would hardly have continued using that name. Perhaps Rowthorpe was Croxton's real name. He told Trueman to get all the information he could on him.

'Superintendent Uckfield wants to know what you're up to and DCI Bliss is asking where you are. What do you want me to tell them?'

'Tell the superintendent the truth. He can inform DCI Bliss, but for heaven's sake don't let Uckfield come charging in yet. Janice Hassingham might be here to spend Christmas with her lover and I'd look a damn fool with the Isle of Wight police swooping on us,' he answered, knowing that wasn't what he believed. 'Let me talk to her, then I'll call Uckfield.'

Horton switched off his mobile and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, wondering if he was also about to find Selina Gilmore inside. Leaving the Harley where it was, he pushed back the gate and went to meet his mother's killer: Peter Croxton.

The door opened before he got there, and a tallish man in his late fifties, with short cropped grey hair, was standing on the threshold. He was expensively dressed in fawn casual trousers and a navy blue jumper. His eyes were a vivid green in a sharp-featured face that the neatly trimmed grey beard did little to disguise but Horton recognized him instantly. Here was the man on the quayside.

'Inspector Horton, come in.'

Horton wasn't surprised that he knew him. After all he had tried to kill him twice. He stepped inside feeling his body tense; it took an effort to keep his expression neutral. He felt a deep loathing and searing hatred for this man who had confined him to years of emptiness.

He followed Rowthorpe through an airy and spacious hall and into a cream and beige room on the left. It took a while for Horton to locate Janice Hassingham, because the room was immense, but he locked eyes on her as she sat on one of the three brown leather sofas that straddled a large fireplace. Behind her was a wall of glass that gave on to the grounds and, Horton guessed, would sport a spectacular view of the sea only it was too dark to make it out. The rain was lashing against the windows. There was no sign of Selina Gilmore.

Rowthorpe crossed the beech wood floor to the sofa where Janice was sitting and picked up a tumbler of amber liquid. Horton thought that he'd need a loudhailer to make conversation in a room this size as he followed him, and a compass to find your way around the house. He'd thought Sebastian Gilmore's house was a palace, but it was a mere shed compared to this. These men had made a mint out of their smuggling, and lives had been sacrificed because of their greed. Horton was determined to see that Croxton paid for it. He knew he too would suffer, because the truth about his mother would emerge, but maybe it was time for it all to come out, though he didn't know how Catherine would react to that. Fear gripped his heart at the thought that she might use it to prevent him from ever seeing Emma.

He stared down at Janice Hassingham and started violently. She was smiling and it transformed her face. She was no longer the dull, sad woman he and Cantelli had seen that morning in her office; years had sloughed off her and with it the heavy coarseness of her features. Her eyes were a vivid green and her usual pallid complexion was flushed with exhilaration. The breath suddenly caught in Horton's throat. From the first time he'd set eyes on her at Horsea Marina he had known there was something familiar about her, but it had taken this transformation for him to understand why he'd had that feeling. Now he knew what had triggered the memory of the man on the Town Camber quayside. He also knew the true identity of the man standing beside her.

'You're Warwick Hassingham,' he said, staring at Croxton, whilst his brain raced to assimilate this latest revelation and put it in place with everything else he had learned.

'I haven't used that name for years. Drink, Inspector, or should I say, Andy? After all we're old friends.'

That last comment brought Horton up sharply. It made him sick with fury. Here was his mother's boyfriend and the man who had killed her. He wanted to hurl himself at Warwick Hassingham and smash his face to a pulp. It took every ounce of his willpower not to do so and only the fact that he could see that was exactly what Hassingham wanted restrained Horton. They weren't alone in this house. Hassingham had protection. He spun round to see a man built like a brick outhouse, with shoulders bigger than DCI Dennings, standing in the doorway.

'My bodyguard, Trevor,' Warwick explained unnecessarily. Horton couldn't think of a more fitting job for eighteen stone of muscle. And he didn't fancy his chances against the shaven-headed muscle man. He turned his gaze back to Janice, who was looking smug; he'd get no help there.

'How long have you known that your brother was alive?' he addressed her sharply.

'Since I overheard Sebastian talking to Rowland on the telephone last Tuesday.'

'And that was why you were at the marina on Wednesday night? You went to see Tom.'

'Yes, I didn't know where he was until Rowley told me, but by then I was too late. He was already dead.'

'And how do you feel about your brother killing the only man you ever loved?' Horton said, watching her closely. Her eyes flicked to Warwick's.

'Sebastian killed Tom and that's why I had to kill him.'

'You locked him in the freezer.' So it was Janice.

'Yes.'

Then he recalled Sebastian's alibi. 'But Sebastian was at Tri Fare the night Brundall was killed.'

'The sales director lied. Seb asked him to. Selina went to Tri Fare alone. She lied to you too.'

Could Horton believe her? Her face was expressionless. Warwick was looking so sure of himself. Horton knew then that Warwick had killed Brundall and had spun his sister some claptrap about it being Sebastian. He'd got Janice to kill Sebastian for him. The evil bastard.

'Sit down,' Warwick commanded.

An arm shot out and Horton felt as though his shoulder had been trapped in a vice. He couldn't prevent a cry of agony escaping, as Muscles pushed him on to the sofa. Releasing him after a sign from Warwick, Horton rubbed his shoulder. Fuming with anger and smarting with pain, he said, 'Did you kill my mother?'

'Jennifer Horton's little boy a copper! It was a bit of a shock when Seb told me. It wasn't until Rowley returned to Portsmouth and made the connection that Seb realized who you were. I never thought you'd end up on the right side of the law. Just shows how wrong you can be about kids. It scared poor little Rowley almost shitless. Every day he lived in fear that you'd come knocking on his door to arrest him. He kept a very close eye on you.'

'You mean the newspapers.'

'You saw them?' Warwick glanced at his watch.

He knows I might have called for help and he wonders how long he's got. Horton wished now that he had done so, instead of telling Trueman to wait. His heart was thumping against his ribcage.

Warwick said, 'I managed to get rid of them after that woman vicar left for the church. I didn't expect the Church to put in a replacement so quickly and neither did Seb.'

'You killed Anne Schofield just because she'd seen those newspaper articles!' Horton cried, anger welling up in him.

'We couldn't take the risk. She said you'd already seen them.'

'So you frightened the poor woman into calling me, knowing that if she mentioned my mother I'd come running, and you thought you'd kill us both at the same time.'