Undercurrent (24 page)

‘I doubt that but come and meet some of them.’ Danby headed into the Pavilion Room leaving him no option but to re-enter it. Eames flashed him a smile. Horton turned and saw Danby cross to a table where he addressed three men. As Horton made towards them he could see Madeley at his seat with his back to the room. The three men Danby was talking to must have seen him with Madeley and couldn’t have failed to see him leaving the room, and with a groan he saw that two of them were Rupert Crawford and Ben Otis. Eames would know he hadn’t been here to question them and she was bound to be curious as to why he’d been leaving the Pavilion Room.

Danby began to make the introductions but Horton interjected. ‘I’ve met Mr Crawford and Mr Otis.’

In daylight Ben Otis was younger than Horton had first thought, nearer to forty-five than fifty-five. He was dark-haired with very deep brown, almost black eyes, and he looked extremely fit. Otis gave him a friendly smile. Crawford ignored him.

Danby said, ‘And this is Lord Eames.’

Horton hid his surprise. Eames rose and proffered his hand. He was in his late-sixties, grey-haired, lean and fit, with a keen-featured face, which bore a resemblance to Agent Eames about the eyes. He was casually but smartly dressed and wearing an expression that seemed vaguely familiar to Horton, probably because he’d seen it on Harriet Eames’ perfect features. Lord Eames gestured him into the seat and offered him coffee. Horton declined the latter. ‘I’m working, sir. Haven’t got time.’

Crawford looked up. ‘Is it to do with that body on Ashton’s boat?’

What did he say now when they must have seen him sitting with Madeley? But then they wouldn’t know that Madeley wasn’t involved in the investigation, and neither would Harriet Eames.

‘Yes.’

Otis said, ‘Have you any idea how the body ended up there?’

Danby answered, ‘If DI Horton has then he’s not going to tell us.’

Otis smiled while Crawford, seemingly bored with the conversation, returned his attention to the message he was sending via his mobile phone.

Horton said, ‘His name was Daniel Redsall. He was a marine archaeologist and attended a lecture on Monday night given by Dr Douglas Spalding, who was found dead that night. Sadly we now have another fatality and a homicide of a man called Ivor Meadows who was also at Dr Spalding’s lecture.’

Otis looked shocked. ‘That’s dreadful. So you think the deaths are connected?’

‘It’s possible.’ He didn’t add
and I’m the only one who believes that
.

‘Redsall,’ repeated Lord Eames thoughtfully. ‘I seem to remember we had a Redsall as a member. A Navy man. Could he be a relation?’

‘Daniel Redsall’s father was Rear Admiral Jonathan Redsall.’

‘Of course, I remember him now. He died some years ago. Nice man, good sailor. He had a house here in Cowes and one on the mainland. His wife didn’t like the sea very much so he used to come here with his sister, Beatrice. She was a very good sailor.’

This was useful background information but it didn’t get Horton very much further forward, except for one thing. Beatrice Redsall. ‘Is she still a member?’

Lord Eames answered, ‘I don’t know.’

Harriet Eames said, ‘I could check.’

Her father looked at Horton and said, ‘Is it pertinent to the investigation?’

‘We don’t know what is at this stage,’ he answered vaguely. ‘It’s a case of gathering as much information as we can.’ He caught Danby’s knowing glance. OK, so it was the standard answer, but it was true nevertheless. He added, ‘I’d also like to know if Daniel Redsall was a member.’ Horton doubted it but no harm in asking and he’d like to know if either Daniel or Beatrice had been here on the Tuesday Daniel had died, but he’d ask Eames to check that out for him when away from the others.

Lord Eames said, ‘I’m sure the Club Secretary will be pleased to assist with your investigation.’

Horton removed the photograph of Redsall from his pocket. ‘Maybe you recognize him, sir.’ He showed it to Lord Eames, who shook his head and handed it across to Danby. With a shake of his head Danby handed it back to Horton.

Horton then showed Otis and Crawford the photograph of Ivor Meadows asking if they’d seen him before. As neither man had been at Oyster Quays on Monday night it seemed unlikely. They both denied knowing him and the same with Douglas Spalding when Horton repeated the routine. He rose, thanking them for their help.

Harriet Eames jumped up. ‘I’ll show you out.’

Danby said, ‘Good luck with the investigation.’

Horton caught his sly glance, Rupert’s patronizing one and Otis’s amused one but Lord Eames had already looked away and was pouring himself a coffee as though Horton didn’t warrant a farewell – he was nothing, just a mere speck on the carpet to his Lordship.

At the entrance to the club Horton halted. ‘What does Ben Otis do for a living?’

‘Nothing. He doesn’t have to. He made a fortune selling his computer software company years ago.’

She held his gaze. He had been mad even to think he could stand a chance with her. Apart from her job they had nothing in common. She came from and moved in totally different circles to him. An investment banker, a multimillionaire and Daddy a peer of the realm while he was just a kid from the back streets of Portsmouth, who’d had very little education, no money, no father, whose mother had walked out on him and a failed marriage behind him.

She said, ‘I’ll ask the secretary about Beatrice and Daniel Redsall and call you when I have the information.’

She turned and walked away. He got the sense that something in his expression had betrayed his thoughts. What had she seen though? Anger? Resentment? Distaste? He hurried away, glad to get out of the cloying atmosphere of privilege and wealth. He felt irritated that he’d let his thoughts show and that she’d seen them, but what bothered him more as he headed back for the ferry was the fact that the three men had seen him talking to Madeley. Horton doubted if Rupert Crawford would have taken any notice or bothered to question why he was interviewing Madeley but Ben Otis and Lord Eames must be curious and he could see by her expression that Agent Eames had wondered why he’d been leaving the Pavilion Room when clearly he hadn’t been questioning her father and his friends. She’d had more sense than to question him, however.

With annoyance he pushed the thoughts aside and returned his concentration to his conversation with Madeley. He’d asked Madeley if he recognized any of the men in the photograph and Madeley’s answer had been ‘They’re not known to me.’ That wasn’t quite the same thing. Horton felt sure that he had recognized them or at least one of them but he didn’t
know
whoever it was. Why not say though? Madeley had mentioned having the photograph computer-enhanced to show the men as they might now look, and when Horton had replied that he couldn’t see how that could help Madeley had said, ‘It might if one of them was recognized,’ and the only way that
he
would recognize one of the men was if he was a celebrity, a politician, sportsman or on their files as a criminal.

Horton just made the four o’clock ferry with seconds to spare and while the hills of the Isle of Wight slipped away behind him and the buildings of Portsmouth drew nearer he again studied the photograph. Could one of these men be Zeus, who had been caught and imprisoned once? Or perhaps one of the men was another criminal, who was inside, and that might give Horton the opportunity to talk to him.

Then there was Quentin Amos. Horton stared at the yachts and pleasure craft on the blue shimmering Solent. Why was Amos’s name missing from the archive project? And why wouldn’t he have any trouble locating him? The answer clearly was because Amos was on file. And Horton was very keen to know why.

As the grey granite structure of the Round Tower came into view Horton’s thoughts veered back to Ivor Meadows’ bloodied body lying on the ground of the popular viewpoint. It looked as though it was still sealed off because there was no one on it to wave at the ferry as it slid closer towards its berth. If Meadows had seen Redsall meet someone to tell them he had obtained the contents of Spalding’s briefcase then when during the evening of Monday had Redsall taken the contents? If Newton was telling the truth and Redsall had signed out at nine twenty-five and couldn’t have slipped back inside the dockyard, he couldn’t have hung around outside the museum waiting for Spalding. It couldn’t have been during the lecture either. The only time it could possibly have been was when the refreshments were being served and when Spalding had been talking to the guests. Several things began to shift into place. Meadows had seen Redsall slip back into the conference room and had only remembered it after Horton had jogged his memory yesterday by showing him Redsall’s photograph. Meadows had also recalled he’d seen Redsall outside talking to someone. And that had to be someone Meadows knew or recognized. Someone he wasn’t afraid to confront and someone he was confident enough to meet late at night in a remote location. Horton thought it was time he re-interviewed Julie Preston.

J
ulie Preston looked up as Horton entered her office. He caught a flicker of fear in her eyes behind the square-framed spectacles and thought she looked paler and more tired than on his first visit.

‘I heard about Ivor Meadows’ death on the news at lunchtime,’ she said tremulously. ‘I feel terrible talking about him the way I did.’

‘Did you also know that another man who attended Dr Spalding’s lecture is dead? Daniel Redsall.’

Her eyes widened and her face paled even further. ‘But that’s . . . that’s dreadful. Was it an accident?’

‘We’re treating all three as suspicious.’ Or at least he was.

‘Three? Of course, Dr Spalding.’ She glanced down at her desk and picked up a pencil which she began to fiddle with.

Taking out the photograph of Redsall, Horton asked her if she remembered him.

‘I saw him talking to Dr Spalding over the refreshments but it wasn’t for long before Mr Meadows butted in.’

‘Did you see Daniel Redsall during the lecture?’

‘I wasn’t really noticing.’ She shifted and again pushed a hand through her hair. ‘It was dark in the lecture room.’

Not that dark.

‘And I wasn’t always in there,’ she added hastily, her eyes flicking up to his and away again. ‘I had to pop out and make sure everything was all right with caterers.’

‘Of course.’ Horton left a short pause.

She shifted position and eyed him warily.

After a moment he said, ‘How did Dr Spalding seem during the lecture?’

‘Fine. He was fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. But as I said I wasn’t always there.’

Horton heard fear in her voice. And he knew why. It was simple. ‘Could you show me the Princess Royal Gallery again?’

She scrambled up and led him across the landing, through to the conference room. The chairs were stacked at the sides but the screen and lectern were still in place at the front of the room. She hovered nervously beside him. After a moment he turned to her and said quietly, almost conversationally, ‘You weren’t in here at any time during the lecture, were you?’ He wondered if she’d deny it. She seemed about to then under his steady scrutiny capitulate.

‘No.’ She stared down at the carpet.

‘How long have you and Neil Gideon been having an affair?’

Her head came up and her eyes widened with alarm before he caught a telltale flash of relief. ‘We’re not,’ she said confidently.

No. He knew that. There was only one person it could be.

‘But you are with Lewis Morden.’

Alarm crossed her face. She opened her mouth as though to refute it but could see by his expression that it was pointless. ‘Please don’t tell my boss. I’ll lose my job.’

‘And Lewis Morden will lose his.’

‘He only came up for ten minutes.’

‘A quick one then,’ Horton sneered to get a reaction.

Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘It’s not like that. We love one another.’

‘Yeah and his wife doesn’t understand him,’ Horton said cynically.

She looked away.

‘How long has it been going on?’

‘A few months,’ she answered miserably, then adding more defiantly, ‘the museum was shut, there wasn’t any security risk. No one could get in or out, the audience were in the lecture room, there was nothing to see on the security monitors.’

‘There were the caterers.’

‘They’ve all been security checked at the highest level, and besides they came straight in and were busy setting up the buffet.’

He let that go. ‘And this romantic assignation happens every time you and Lewis Morden are in the museum together at night during a function?’

She nodded, looking miserable.

‘What time did he return to the control room?’

She shifted.

‘Julie, it’s important that you tell me the truth.’

‘I took him some food and just before the caterers packed away he slipped down the back stairs and around by the side door into the museum and control room.’

‘And he came up to your office when?’

She hesitated.

‘Don’t lie to me, Julie.’

‘Ten minutes after the lecture started.’

‘So about seven forty-five. And he left the monitors running?’

‘I guess so.’

Without anyone watching them, which was a lucky break for Redsall – or did he know about Julie Preston and Lewis Morden’s assignations? If he did then someone had told him. Who? Neil Gideon? All Redsall had to do while Spalding was talking to the guests was slip back into the gallery, take the laptop computer from Spalding’s briefcase, replace it with something of an equal weight so Spalding wouldn’t check inside it, put the laptop in his rucksack and slip back in amongst the guests.

He said, ‘What did you and Lewis do after everyone had left?’

‘Lewis helped me do a sweep of the museum, as I told you, and then he left. I locked up and Neil Gideon walked me to my car. Will you have to talk to Lewis?’

‘What do you think?’

‘But you don’t have to tell David, my boss.’

‘I think that perhaps you had better do that.’

She looked mortified at the thought. Horton added, ‘I want a list of all the functions where you and Lewis Morden were together, and I want a copy of the guest list at each one.’ He’d cross-check them for anyone who might have been working with Redsall and against all the names he had so far amassed during the investigation. ‘I’ll be back for it in a moment. Where can I find Morden?’