Pauline Rowson - Tide of Death

He pulled out a small bottle of tablets. They were prescribed to Roger Thurlow. Hypovase. He wondered what they were for; both Mrs Thurlow and Charles Calthorpe had said that Thurlow didn't have any health problems and although Thurlow might not have told Calthorpe, surely his wife would know if there was something wrong with him? Perhaps they weren't for anything serious and she hadn't thought it worth mentioning? He popped the bottle into a plastic evidence bag. They'd have a word with his GP.

He continued his search, moving into the tiny bathroom. Only a man's shower gel from the Body Shop, half used, hung in the shower tidy. Above the sink basin was a perspex glass toothbrush holder. He could see no women's toiletries.

He bent down and pulled open the cupboard under the sink. Inside he found a bottle of household bleach from Waitrose, a tube of bathroom cleaner, and a couple of rags. As he made to straighten up something caught his eye. The bottom of the cupboard was laid with pale blue carpet tiles and he could see in the far right hand corner that one of them had curled slightly. Perhaps the damp had got to it he thought, or maybe the heat. Perhaps it hadn't been laid properly. In a boat costing over?200,000! Somehow he didn't think so.

He knelt and prised up the edge of the carpet tile. It came up remarkably easily; too easily Horton thought as he reached in and felt his fingers grip something. It was a pile of magazines. At first he thought they must have been used as lining, but what kind of boat fitters would use magazines to line a luxury yacht like this? Stretching forward he gently lifted them out. The front cover of each of the three magazines sported naked couples; one of a man and woman, the other two of women locked in poses that left the reader in no doubt of their main activity. It didn't require any great leap of imagination to guess what was inside the covers.

He flicked quickly through the pages, though his experience in SID had already primed him for what he would see, hard core porn that would never see the light of day on the top shelves of even the less discerning newsagents. These magazines were distributed privately and were smuggled into the country either from Germany or from Holland. And why he knew that was because they were the same sort of stuff that had been found on Woodard and which had led them to Alpha One and Jarrett.

He sat back on his heels, his mind racing and his heart pumping a little faster. No, this couldn't be linked to Jarrett; that was too much to hope for, surely? But there was a connection: Culven was both Jarrett's and Thurlow's solicitor; Thurlow's office was a stone's throw from Alpha One. Culven liked being caned; Thurlow was carrying hard-core porn; Jarrett was distributing it. OK, so the last was speculation but there were too many connections to be coincidence. Or was that just wishful thinking on his part? Was he so obsessed that he wanted Culven's death to be connected to Jarrett? He knew what Uckfield would say.

He heard Elkins give a soft whistle.

'Get me a large evidence bag,' Horton commanded.

Elkins returned promptly by which time Horton was back on deck holding the offending articles.

'Any sign of Thurlow's tender yet?'

Elkins shook his head. 'No and if it's not marked with the boat's name we might never find it. There are hundreds of dinghies lying around and tons of places it could be.'

Horton agreed. He called for a forensic team to go aboard Thurlow's boat then walked the few hundred yards to the large modern import control building where he asked to see Tom Maddox, the senior import and marine liaison officer.

A couple of minutes later Horton was standing in his office watching the cars being driven on to a ferry bound for France. Beyond it he could see the masts of the ships in Horsea Marina. He wondered how Cantelli was getting on.

Horton said, 'I need you to check out a yacht for me, Tom. Porn's involved.' He saw Maddox eye the evidence bag in his hand but he wasn't going to show it yet.

'What's she called?' Maddox waved him into›a seat, folded his tall, lean frame into the chair opposite and pushed up his spectacles. 'The Free Spirit. She's in the secure compound.'

'I can't say I know the name.'

'Roger Thurlow's the owner. He's missing and we want to question him in connection with murder. You've probably heard about our body on the beach.'

Maddox swivelled his chair, his craggy features frowning as he thought. 'Thurlow. I don't know the name or the boat. Who's the dead man?'

'Michael Culven. He had a boat called Otter.'

'No. Doesn't ring any bells. I'll check them both out but I don't think we've ever stopped them.'

'Are you still keeping an eye on Jarrett?' Horton didn't really expect an honest answer. What he expected was the same reaction he'd got from Dennings, a warning to stay away.

Maddox raised his eyebrows but said, 'As far as we can tell he's clean.'

Horton sat forward. 'You and I both know he's not, Tom. He may not be bringing the porn in himself but he's involved in distributing it.'

Tom Maddox looked puzzled. 'There's no proof-'.

'And you know why, because of me.'

'Look, Andy, we've got enough problems with drugs and illegal immigrants coming in. Jarrett's boat was stopped before Operation Extra and nothing was found on it. We kept an eye on him all the time the operation was live but it was dropped eight months ago.'

Yeah like me, Horton thought.

Maddox said, 'We were told it was finished.' 'And you always do what you're told?' Horton quipped.

Maddox grinned. 'No.'

'Ok, so this might change your mind.' Horton thrust the bag across the desk. He watched Maddox turn it over and poke at the magazines through the plastic.

Horton said, 'Tell me where that comes from?' He knew the answer but he wanted to hear Maddox say it.

'Germany, Holland.' Maddox glanced up. 'What's the connection with Jarrett?' But Horton didn't have to tell him. Maddox answered his own question. 'You think Jarrett is using this guy Thurlow and was using Culven to bring the stuff in?'

'Looks like it to me.'

Maddox sat back. Horton watched the thoughts race across his face. Behind the steel framed glasses he saw Maddox's eyes glance back at the porn. Then he pursued his lips together and said. 'OK. What do you want me to do?'

'Just keep an eye on Jarrett for now. Don't stop him but log his movements. I want to know when he goes out on his boat, who he goes out with and where he goes. I think there's a connection between Culven's death, Thurlow's disappearance and Jarrett but I've got nothing definite at the moment.'

Maddox nodded.

Horton said, 'Let's keep this between ourselves, Tom. I was set up once, if Jarrett gets wind of this we'll never find anything.'

'You can count on me. I always thought that accusation against you was baloney.' Horton walked back to the station feeling that at last he was beginning to get somewhere and not just with Colin Jarrett but Culven's murder. He logged the porn magazines into the incident room and asked for them to be sent for fingerprinting. Then he summoned Marsden.

'I found these on Thurlow's boat.' He held out the tablets. 'Get along to the GP and find out why Thurlow was taking them.'

He headed for the canteen where he bought himself a packet of sandwiches and took them to his office. He stared at the telephone and then glanced at his watch. Where was Catherine now? Would she be at work? She often took time off in August to be with Emma during the summer holidays. They had often taken time off together to be with their daughter and to go sailing or camping. His fingers swivelled to the framed photograph on the corner of his desk. He picked it up. He was crouched down behind her, his arms encircling her slender body; they were on the deck of Nutmeg. The wind had caught her hair blowing it across her face and he was laughing. My God, once he had actually laughed. He replaced the photograph and picked up the telephone.