Pauline Rowson - Tide of Death

The purple dress stretched around the rotting flesh, the pale white flowers on it hardly visible for the crawling maggots. The black fishnet stockings and white shoes were the garb of a tart. That a man's life, and it was a man, could be so summarily dismissed and discarded here like this, left like rubbish, filled Horton with anger. It was good to feel anger at something other than Catherine's betrayal.

Peering down into the contorted face of the man, he recognised him, despite the fact that the maggots, flies, and other insect life, not to mention the rats, had begun to feast on it. It had to be Roger Thurlow. He hardly had time to digest this when a low whistle came from behind him and he turned to find Cantelli standing in the entrance.

Horton said, 'Lovers found him.' 'Blimey, I bet that put them off their stroke. Is it Thurlow?' Cantelli moved forward and peered across at the body. Horton saw him wince at the gruesome sight. 'What's he doing dressed like that? Thurlow a transvestite!'

'Perhaps it's the reason why Melissa Thurlow stopped loving him and looked for an affair elsewhere.'

It seemed to fit. But there was a lot more that didn't. So far no one had given any hint that Thurlow liked playing away from home with other women, or men come to that, though the pornography had indicated that Thurlow had some peculiar tastes when it came to sex. But he was jumping ahead of himself. They had yet to confirm the identity of the victim so he had better save the theorising until later.

Cantelli glanced at the body, then away again. 'Could he have placed that cord around his own neck and hanged himself to get an erection?'

'He could have done if there was anything to hang himself by.' Horton tilted his head upwards. If it had been a clear night he would have seen the stars. It had to be strangulation like Culven. He shuddered. 'This place gives me the creeps.'

'So it should,' Cantelli replied. 'It's called Devil's Tower because of the wild orgies that were held here years ago. It was part of Warlingham House once, ruined in the civil war. One of Charles I's mistresses used to live there. Charlotte told me.'

'You didn't wake her up just to ask her that?'

'No. She was already awake like me.' His expression clouded over and Horton guessed they had been worrying about Ellen. He felt for them. When Emma had an infection and raging temperature, and they suspected meningitis, he thought he was going to die with worry.

Horton turned at the sound of a soft West Country accent greeting the PC outside. A couple of seconds later Dr Clayton appeared at the entrance to the tower. He thought she looked about eighteen in her jeans and sweatshirt before she stepped into the scene suit.

He said, 'We'll be outside.'

She nodded, already absorbed in her work.

'I don't know how she does that job,' Horton said.

'Me neither,' replied Cantelli with feeling.

Uniform were arriving with more lights. Horton climbed out of his scene suit and nodded to the forensic photographer who had just arrived.

Cantelli said, 'The nearest house is about half a mile away, back on the main road to Emsworth. I shouldn't think anyone would have seen anything suspicious.'

'If the body was brought in that way.'

He saw Cantelli look at him sharply and explained. 'The sea is not fifty yards away beyond the tower, and on a high tide you can get in quite close to the shore.'

'You mean someone was on board with Thurlow?'

'It's possible.'

'Anyone in mind?'

Horton thought, Jarrett could have done it.

He said, 'Let's see what Dr Clayton has to say first.'

A couple of minutes later she emerged from the tower. Horton nodded the forensic photographer and SOCO in. She pulled off her gloves and threw them into her case. 'I think I can say with some confidence that he's dead, though cause of death is a little difficult at the moment; too much decomposition, and the wildlife have had rather a good go at him.'

Horton said, 'How long?'

'Judging by the state of decomposition, and the weather, I would say about six or seven days. I'll know more once I get him on the slab.'

Horton looked at Cantelli and could see he was thinking along the same lines. This tied in with Thurlow's disappearing act. But if this was Thurlow, and he was almost certain it was, then that would mean he was killed before Culven. Did Culven kill Thurlow so that he could be free to be with Melissa Thurlow? If so, who had killed Culven? He knew what Uckfield would say: Melissa Thurlow. And maybe he was right Horton thought with disappointment. The pornography and the fact that Thurlow's boat was kept near Jarrett could, after all, be simply coincidences. But he felt so sure that something was going on.

He said, 'Was he killed here?'

'Sorry, inspector, I can't help you there at the moment.' She paused in divesting herself of the scene suit. 'I'll do the PM tomorrow morning, first thing. Say eight thirty.'

'Thanks.'

He caught Cantelli yawning.

'I'm sorry to have dragged you out, Barney.'

'I'm glad you did. It was helpful to see him, poor sod.'

'Go home. I'll stay until the body is removed.'

'You sure?' Cantelli yawned again.

'Yes.'

Horton tried Uckfield's mobile once more, but there was still no answer. He left a message and waited for a while to see if Taylor had anything new to say about the scene of the crime, but there was too much to sift through for instant answers. He saw the body removed to the mortuary, then climbed on his bike and headed home. He tried to get some sleep but soon knew that it was hopeless. At five o'clock he got up, showered and changed and headed into work. He had a feeling it was going to be a very long day but he didn't mind that. Work would distract him.

By the look of him Uckfield had also been awake all night. The big man looked washed out and hung over. Wherever he had been it had been quite a party, but Horton wasn't foolish enough to say so.

'Another bloody murder!' Uckfield snarled, pulling out a chair and flopping down opposite Horton across the table in the canteen. 'Just what I need.'

Horton refrained from saying he guessed that their victim could have done without it too. Instead he said, 'I think it's Thurlow but we won't know for certain until later this morning. I'm sending Somerfield out to Briarly House to warn Mrs Thurlow and stay with her if she needs her, but my experience of that lady is she won't want her there. If it is Thurlow, then he was killed before Culven. So we start again.'

'Could she have killed them both?' Uckfield asked hopefully, looking up from his black coffee.

Horton considered this. 'Why kill her lover?'

'How the hell do I know?' Uckfield snapped.

Horton raised his eyebrows. He'd only been posing a theoretical question; he didn't expect an answer. Definitely touchy this morning. He sipped his coffee and remained silent. After a moment Uckfield let out a sigh and his lips twitched in apology but Horton could see how forced it was and how much it cost him to keep control of his temper, which at the best of times had never been even.

'Who else have we got in the frame?' Horton wasn't going to tell him about Jarrett. He knew what the reaction would be.

'There must be others, you must have some idea!'

Horton felt the question to be an accusation of his incompetence. 'We'll need to start digging into Thurlow's affairs,' he replied stiffly.

'Then you'd better get a big bloody shovel and do it quick.' Uckfield tossed back his coffee and scraped back his chair.

Horton sat for a moment longer staring into his coffee. Then, after checking into the incident room, he returned to his office where he spent the next few hours sifting through the files on Culven's murder, and reading the summary of statements that Trueman had compiled for him, looking for anything out of the ordinary or some commonality between the two men's deaths. All he could find was that they knew each other, both had been dumped or been killed near the sea, and both had Melissa Thurlow and Colin Jarrett in common.