The same day as Cantelli's father's funeral; that was at twelve thirty. If he was also going to attend Daniel's, then it was going to be a grim day. He put down his mug and rose.
'It would be helpful if you could work on that list of names right away and telephone it through to DC Lee.' Horton handed Heather Collins his card. 'You can reach her on the main CID number. If she's not there, call me.'
At the door, Heather Collins hesitated. Horton could see her struggling with something. After a moment she said, 'Do you know why I was so convinced that this couldn't have been an accident?'
Horton suspected he was going to hear how she'd had a dream or a premonition. He was wrong.
'I was diagnosed with breast cancer just before Christmas. Daniel was devastated, even though I tried to reassure him I'd be fine. So you see, it was even more important to him to be with me this Christmas Eve. Oh, I know what's going through your mind — then why did he go out? He said it was for me. He wanted to make sure I had the best possible treatment and was going to see to it that I did. It doesn't matter now. But thank you for taking us seriously, Inspector. It means a lot to us.'
He smiled reassuringly but his smile vanished as he climbed into the car. Something about Mrs Collins's statement had struck him. He glanced at Lee as she pulled away. Had the same thought occurred to her? She showed no sign of it. But Horton wondered if Daniel had been going out to blackmail someone to fund his mother's treatment privately, and that 'someone' had a connection with the nursing home. Again Marion Keynes sprang to mind. But would she have had enough money to pay Daniel? Horton doubted it from what he'd seen of her house and he knew that care assistants, and even nursing home managers, didn't earn a fortune.
There was an alternative. Had Daniel decided to tell Marion Keynes that he wouldn't betray her to the police if he could have a share in the sale proceeds of Irene's jewellery? But even then he doubted that they would have fetched much, so perhaps other residents' jewellery had gone missing? And there was something else troubling him. If Daniel had been murdered — and Horton discounted the improbable theory that Daniel had been forced off the road by another driver — then how the devil had his killer done it?
SEVEN
'The Daniel Collins fatality, Christmas Eve — anything odd about it?' Horton addressed Bob Wellsley, the uniformed officer standing on the other side of his desk. It was late afternoon and Horton had read and reread the report until he knew it backwards.
Lee was trying to tease something out of Daniel's computer, and Walters had almost finished going through the lists that Corinna Denton and the Queen's Hotel had given him. So far he'd discovered bugger all.
Horton guessed that Walters didn't really know what he was looking for anyway, and Horton wasn't so sure himself. If someone had a grudge against Perry Jackson, then it wasn't going to come to light simply by checking criminal records. It would mean questioning anyone who had a connection with the TV diver, and that would take for ever, not to mention more staff. Horton simply didn't have the resources.
Cantelli had returned from Dr Mason with the disappointing news that Mason had been as unhelpful as Dr Eastwood.
'You'd have thought there was a code amongst them to obstruct the police as much as possible,' Cantelli had said. 'Either that or our friend Eastwood called Mason and warned him.'
'Why would he do that?'
'Because he didn't like you?' volunteered Cantelli cheerfully.
Probably, but Horton wasn't going to lose any sleep over that. So unless Dr Clayton found anything from the autopsy, or they discovered that the belongings of other residents were missing, the investigation would go nowhere.
'There doesn't appear to be anything suspicious about it,' Bob Wellsley answered. He was a solid dependable man, thorough, middle-aged and very experienced. If Wellsley hadn't sniffed out anything, then maybe it was an accident after all.
'His mother's adamant that someone forced him off the road.'
'There were no skid marks on the road and no witnesses have come forward.'
Horton knew that. He had the photographs of the scene spread out on his desk, but they were of the car and none of Daniel Collins because the fire fighters had got him out in the hope that he might still be alive. The front of the car was crumpled, but not as much as Horton had expected, so the impact couldn't have been severe. All the car windows were open.
'Where's the car now?'
'In the compound, sir.'
'Has it been examined?'
Wellsley looked surprised. 'I thought it was a drunk driver.'
'It might still be, but there's an element of doubt.' Horton would get the forensic team on to it. He studied the schematic that Wellsley had drawn. 'So Collins was heading in the direction of Southsea and presumably home. Any idea how fast he was travelling?'
'The absence of skid marks indicates that he wasn't speeding. I would say he simply veered off the road.'
Horton frowned. 'Why veer to the left and up on to the wharf? He would have had to drive up the slope into the small car park before going over the top. Why not veer to the right and into the crash barrier?'
'A vehicle could have been travelling northwards. Collins was drunk, thought it was closer than it was, or he was blinded by its headlights, he wrenched the wheel over to his left and ended up bounding up the wharf and over the edge, his reactions dulled by the drink.' Wellesley scratched his nose and added, 'It could have been a bird, perhaps a swan from Salterns Lake, or brent geese flying low, and Collins swerved to avoid them.'
Unlikely, thought Horton, but Wellsley continued. 'There is another theory, not that I go along with it…' He hesitated.
'What?' prompted Horton. He was prepared to go with anything at this stage.
'The ghost.'
He gave Wellsley a sceptical look.
'Yeah, I know, but that part of the road is supposed to be haunted by the victim of a previous traffic accident. Sometimes in the rain and fog, drivers have claimed to see it and there's certainly been more accidents on that stretch of road than anywhere else along it, and more fatalities there than on any other road in Portsmouth.'
'We'll discount the spook. Was there anything inside the car or the boot?'
'Only the usual documents, which were rather wet: insurance, MOT certificate, breakdown services details, and the spare wheel and tools in the boot.'
'No mobile phone?'
'No. Could be at the bottom of the sea.'
And the tide went out exposing mud where the incident had occurred. Raising his voice, Horton called, 'Walters! Got a job for you.'
Wellsley left with a grin, guessing what fate Horton had in store for the overweight detective. Horton briefed Walters and countered his grumbles with the advice that he get himself a pair of fisherman's waders. Then he called the scientific services department and asked if they could examine Daniel's car, before turning his thoughts to the interview with the Collinses. There was something bugging him, but he couldn't think what it was, and though he sat for a few minutes trying to grasp it, it still eluded him.
He rose and stared out of the window, watching the rain slanting down on to the overflowing drains in the station car park. Were none of these strands going to hang together? Was he completely off his trolley for even bothering to follow up the Eburys' and Daniel Collins's deaths? Bliss would have thought so. Why hadn't anyone at the Rest Haven mentioned Daniel's death? Perhaps he hadn't been very well liked.
And why hadn't Ray Ferris or Steve Uckfield got back to him with any news on DC Lee? If he could just get it clear in his mind that her secondment was genuine and Bliss's departure a gift from heaven, then he could settle down to trying to solve some of the other hundred and one cases clogging his desk.