Dead Man's Wharf

'We'll see if you're right then, doctor. There is to be an autopsy.'

Eastwood flushed, opened his mouth to say something, then obviously thought better of it.

The doctor's times matched with those Marion Keynes had given them. But there was something puzzling Horton. 'I didn't think GPs did out of hours visits.' He had the satisfaction of seeing Eastwood look put out.

'Mrs Keynes has my home number and thought it best to call me.'

Now, why was that? wondered Horton. Eastwood tried to bluff it out with a cold stare, but Horton could see he was worried. That was another thing that bothered Horton. If Marion Keynes had discovered Irene Ebury at five thirty a.m., then why had she waited until six to call the doctor? He supposed she could have been organizing the removal of Mrs Kingsway from the room. But she claimed she had delegated that to the care assistant, Cheryl, and although the old lady would have taken some time to get out of bed it could have been done by the time Dr Eastwood arrived even if Marion Keynes had called him the moment she discovered Irene.

'Now, I have patients to visit-'

'Just one more thing,' Horton said, noting the relief on Eastwood's face. 'Did Irene Ebury have more than one child?'

'I've already said her medical history is confidential. When, or if, you can prove that a serious crime has been committed, then you can see her notes, but only if you have a warrant and only those parts of her record that are relevant to your inquiry.'

'Her son died yesterday.'

Eastwood was genuinely surprised. After a moment he said, 'She only had the one pregnancy that went to full term.'

And that must have been Peter. Horton heard what Eastwood wasn't saying. Had Irene had a series of miscarriages or abortions even? Not that that helped them or was relevant. He had wondered if she might have other children somewhere, or perhaps given up a child, or children, for adoption.

'And her GP before you?'

Eastwood snapped. 'Dr Mason. Somerton Health Centre.'

Horton felt a familiar jolt. That had been his health centre as a boy and his mother's, which indicated that Irene must have lived in the same area as them. Had Irene helped his mother get that job in the casino?

He hoped that Dr Mason might be more amenable. He asked Cantelli to drop him back at the station and then to visit the Somerton Health Centre.

'See if you can find out who Irene's social worker was. She must have had one to help her move to the Rest Haven. If they're not still around, then there must be a file on her. Make an appointment for us to see it.'

In his office, Horton called Anston at the prison, only to be told they hadn't unearthed a single relative. There was no word from Ray Ferris or Steve Uckfield about DC Lee, but maybe it was too soon. He saw her stride into the CID office and in her wake followed a heavily perspiring and panting Walters.

Joining them, Horton said, 'If I didn't know better, I'd say that DC Lee has made you walk back from the Queen's Hotel.'

Walters took a large handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and mopped his forehead as he flopped heavily into a chair.

'Only from the car park,' Lee replied.

'Yeah, but it's the pace she walks at,' Walters grumbled. 'Makes Paula Radcliffe look like she's strolling in a marathon.'

'So how did you get on with the divers?'

'The call was made to Mr Jackson's hotel room, but it didn't go through the hotel switchboard, which suggests that, like the others, it came from another hotel room or was made by one of the staff. It was a man and Mr Jackson claims it is the same caller as before. He seemed very unnerved by it. He said he had no idea who is doing it.'

'Do you believe him?'

She thought for a moment. 'Yes.'

Horton wasn't convinced, but he told Lee to start checking out the names on the lists that Corinna Denton had given her and for Walters to take the hotel staff list. His phone was ringing and he hurried back to his office hoping it was Ray Ferris. It wasn't.

'Why did you go to the airport yesterday morning?' Frances Greywell sounded cross.

Well, tough. Why shouldn't he see his daughter?

He said: 'I like aeroplanes.'

There was silence for a moment and he could imagine her rolling her grey eyes. 'Catherine is saying that Emma cried all the way home; that you upset her and it's not fair on the child.'

Shit. Horton gripped the telephone and felt his heart somersault as he imagined Emma's tears. He told himself that Catherine was lying. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his daughter.

'This is not good for us, Andy. Catherine's lawyers will use the fact that Emma seeing you unnecessarily upsets her.'

'Rubbish,' he dismissed, but he knew that what she said was true. There had to be a reason why Catherine was being so obstructive. Cantelli said it was jealousy. Maybe he was right and Catherine was jealous of his love for Emma and hers for him. But that didn't help him. He shouldn't have gone to the airport, it had been a mistake, but it was too late for that now. He didn't want to jeopardize his chances of seeing Emma. He took a breath to calm himself.

'Tell Catherine, through her lawyer, that I'm sorry. I won't try to see Emma again without it being agreed.'

'You mean it?'

Frances Greywell sounded surprised and sceptical. He didn't blame her for that.

'Yes. But see if you can arrange for me to see Emma as quickly as possible.'

'OK. I'll be in touch.'

He sat back, wondering what would happen next, and was thankfully shaken out of his morbid thoughts of a life without his daughter by a brief knock on the door. Lee entered.

'I've just had a Mrs Collins on the line.'

Horton groaned silently. He knew the poor woman was distraught over losing her son in that car accident on Christmas Eve. He wasn't being harsh, but he thought he'd dealt with it. 'I told Walters to see her.'

'He said he hasn't had time.'

'Did he even call her?'

Lee shrugged, which Horton interpreted as no. Bloody Walters. But then he had kept him rather occupied.

'She's adamant her son's death was no accident. And there's something else. It might not mean anything, but it is interesting in light of what Walters has told me about your investigations at the Rest Haven Nursing Home.'

Horton's attention heightened. 'And that is?'

'Did you know that Daniel Collins worked there?'

Did he indeed! Now that was interesting. But what was even more remarkable and puzzling was the fact that none of the staff had mentioned him.

SIX

A Horton headed for the Collins's house with DC Lee, he recalled Angela Northwood saying they were a care assistant down, but she had made no mention that it was Daniel Collins and that he'd been killed in a tragic accident. Of course she had been tired and Mr Kingsway bellowing at her probably hadn't helped. He didn't see how Daniel Collins's death could have any bearing on the deaths of Irene Ebury and her son, but it was another factor that disturbed him about that nursing home.

He said as much to Lee, then swiftly filled in the gaps that Walters had left out during their twenty-minute journey across the city to Southsea. Pulling up outside a semi detached house facing a cemetery, she said, 'Not the best place to live when someone you love has just died.'

Horton stifled the usual copper's black sense of humour, which would have drawn the retort, 'Handy for the funeral though,' and climbed out. The rain had eased to a fine drizzle, which a blustery wind seemed intent on tormenting. He let his gaze drift up the facade of the solid, well-kept Edwardian semi, a smaller version of the nursing home in Whitaker Road and about a half mile away, and saw the fresh white net curtains, a polished door handle and neatly tended garden. The gate squeaked as he pushed it back and he steeled himself to meet a mother's grief.