Dead Man's Wharf

His head was thudding. Cantelli was right. He needed to take some time off. Next week he would. He pulled his blinds shut and marched into the CID office, swiftly crossing to Lee. Cantelli was on the phone.

'How are you getting on?'

'Not much so far. Just some rather lovely photographs. We really need to access his e mails and view his Internet record.'

'Leave that for now. Go to the Rest Haven, find out if Daniel Collins was the only male working there and what the staff thought of him. Did he know or ever speak to the owners? Oh, and while you're at it, get some feedback on what the staff think of the owners, Mr Chrystal and his brothers. Also check the register of the residents' belongings with what is in the drawers, see if anything else has gone missing.'

Lee plucked her jacket from the back of her chair and left without protest or comment.

Cantelli came off the phone. 'Ian Keynes is a lorry driver. He's worked for Ryan Oldham for the last eighteen months.'

Horton considered this. 'Oldham's Wharf is less than half a mile from Salterns Wharf, where Daniel died. Years ago Oldham's used to operate out of Salterns.'

'So?'

Cantelli was right. Where did that lead them? Nowhere.

'Neither Marion nor her husband has a criminal record, but their credit rating is very poor. I've just got Marion's previous employment record. I'll start checking it out to see if she left anywhere under a cloud. The Chrystal brothers own four nursing homes in the area including the Rest Haven. The abbreviated accounts at Companies House show a fairly healthy profit. And I've got the Commission of Social Care Inspector Report for the Rest Haven. It's not bad, but like I said before, I wouldn't put my mum there.'

'What's wrong with it?' Horton asked, interested, sitting in Walters' vacant chair.

'The inspector visited unannounced in July last year following a few adverse comments from relatives.' Cantelli briefly consulted his notes. 'He said there wasn't regular supervision of the staff, the residents' social and emotional needs weren't being individually assessed and new equipment and furnishing was needed in several of the residents' rooms.'

Horton could back that up by what he'd seen.

'He also said that the delivery, storage and management of medicines needed improving,' continued Cantelli. 'I think it's about time they got another visit.'

'OK, but wait until we've finished our investigations.'

'Oh, and the photographic unit called and said there's nothing they can get from the photocopied photos I gave them of Irene and Peter Ebury. They need the originals.'

And Horton thought they had little chance of getting them. 'Did you make that appointment with Irene's social worker?'

'Yes, but it's not the same one who was handling her case when she moved to the nursing home. She left a year ago. Tomorrow morning, nine thirty.'

Horton rose, glancing at his watch. 'Well, we might not need to keep it if Dr Clayton confirms death by natural causes. Come on, let's see what she has to say.'

They were shown into Dr Clayton's office by Tom, the whistling mortuary assistant.

'I was just beginning to think you weren't coming,' Gaye greeted them, looking up from her computer screen. She nodded a farewell to Tom and gestured them into the seats across her desk.

Horton was surprised to see that her office was still full of Christmas cards; they were spread out on filing cabinets and blue-tacked to the walls. Christmas seemed like a lifetime ago to him.

She swivelled her chair across from the computer screen. 'First, Peter Ebury, cause of death, respiratory failure. He looked pretty healthy and I wouldn't have thought he would keel over with that, but it's what he died of. I've sent his organs for further tests and I've taken blood samples, but it looks as though he died a natural death and prematurely. Bit of a waste.'

Cantelli said, 'His whole life was a waste.'

So that was the puzzle over Peter Ebury's death solved, thought Horton despondently.

'And Irene Ebury?'

Gaye gently swung her chair round, tapping a pencil against her mouth. 'Irene Ebury was in a poor state: thinning arteries, weak heart, cancer in one of her lungs, and it was a heart attack.'

Although he'd been expecting that news he nevertheless felt a bitter blow of disappointment. He was also annoyed that Dr Eastwood's diagnosis would be borne out.

'Could it have been induced?' he asked, more in hope than anticipation.

'You mean brought on by a shock? Possibly. Alternatively she could have been injected with air. Because of her poor health it wouldn't have needed much to cause an embolism, but it would have required a skilled person to inject the air into her by using a syringe.'

Horton brightened up at that. 'She was in a nursing home. Plenty of people there who could have done it.' He was thinking of Marion Keynes.

Gaye raised her eyebrows. 'If she was injected with air then it's almost impossible to detect. I looked for froth around the heart and in the blood vessels, but I couldn't find any.'

So, dead end. He could sign off both these deaths and forget about Lee being sent to keep an eye on him. What an idiot he'd been. 'Looks as though I was wrong on both counts.'

'What about the missing jewellery and the intruder?' Cantelli said.

'Sounds like one of those murder mystery games,' Gaye commented.

Horton said, 'We'll continue to investigate the missing jewellery with Marion Keynes as our prime suspect. As for the intruder — ' Horton shook his head — 'Mrs Kingsway must have imagined it.'

'And Daniel Collins?'

Was his death simply a tragic accident after all? wondered Horton. Probably, but he might as well ask whilst he was here.

'Your colleague did an autopsy on a Daniel Collins who died on Christmas Eve. His car went over Salterns Wharf. He worked at the nursing home where Irene Ebury died. I've read the autopsy report but wondered if you could tell me anything more about it.'

'I doubt that,' she answered, tapping into the computer. 'Daniel Collins, aged thirty four, drowned. Toby Simmonds did the autopsy. It seems straightforward. His body's been released to the Chapel of Rest. Want me to take another look?'

Horton hesitated, saw the grief-stricken faces of Mr and Mrs Collins and said, 'No.' They'd been through enough already.

'Why the interest? Apart from the nursing home link, that is?'

Horton gave her a brief summary of what Mrs Collins had said. Gaye looked sorrowful. 'I expect she's just finding his death hard to come to terms with.' Her green eyes swivelled to Cantelli. 'And how are you coping, Sergeant?'

Cantelli gave a sad smile. 'I keep telling myself that Dad was old and he'd had a good life, but it doesn't make it easier.'

'No,' she answered quietly, then added, 'Inspector Horton tells me the funeral is on Thursday. I'd like to come if it's OK with you?'

Cantelli brightened up. 'Of course it is. The service is at the cathedral. The Roman Catholic one that is,' he added. 'At twelve thirty. Dad's being buried in Milton cemetery and then it's back to the restaurant in Southsea for the wake.'

Gaye didn't need to ask which restaurant; there was one in Southsea owned by the Cantellis and run by Barney's brother, Tony. Following her promise to be there, they returned to the car.

'Do we keep digging?' asked Cantelli.

Horton thought of that other funeral on Thursday morning. He saw the Collinses' faces when he told them he'd stopped the investigation into Daniel's death. It didn't bear thinking about. They still had Daniel's computer, his car was going to be examined. Walters might return with something from his mud bath and DC Lee could unearth some interesting information from the Rest Haven. He wondered if he'd just seen a pink pig flying overhead. 'For now.'

'Irene Ebury was Miss Southsea in 1957,' Trueman said, following Horton into his office. He handed over a newspaper cutting. Horton gave a soft whistle.