Cantelli was still looking bemused. Horton continued, warming to his theme. 'What if Langley, either looking out from her apartment or going on to a friend or lover's boat in the Town Camber, saw our mastermind on one of the previous robberies, and was killed because of it?'
'But why take her to the mulberry? Why not kill her in the Town Camber and throw her into the harbour?'
Horton frowned. They had been over this ground before. But this time he knew he was on to something. He had to talk it through. It had to slot into place. He sat back in his chair and tapped his pencil against his mouth whilst thinking. Finally he said, 'We know that she was a strong-minded woman, so let's say she decided to blackmail him because he had something she wanted, though God alone knows what that was. Or perhaps she simply craved excitement. It would be in keeping with her character as we've been told it.'
Cantelli nodded. Horton could see he was becoming convinced.
Horton went on. 'Her car was found at Sparkes Yacht Harbour on Hayling Island. Her killer could have lured her there. He could have been the second caller agreeing to her blackmail demands, hence the word "great" that Ranson overheard her say. I know her accounts don't show she was receiving blackmail money, but perhaps she hadn't got that far. That meeting at Sparkes could have been the first.' Horton mentally juggled the information flooding into his brain. 'Which means she felt pretty confident he wouldn't kill her. She was a tough lady but not stupid. Why drive to Sparkes Yacht Harbour and meet her killer-?'
'Because she knew him.' They said together.
Horton continued with enthusiasm. 'Tom Edney was out that night drinking, which according to his wife, was unusual for him. Let's say he had a few drinks to give him courage to finally confront Langley over her treatment of him, but when he went to do so he saw her leaving her apartment and decided to follow her. He saw who she met at Sparkes and also recognized him, which meant he had to die. Our killer must be connected with the school which links in with the nursery rhyme about the mulberry.'
'Why point us in that direction? Does he want to be caught?'
Horton shrugged. 'I expect he's a clever Dick who believes that stupid old PC Plod can't possibly catch him. Think about our antiques mastermind, Barney,' Horton urged eagerly. 'He has keys to the victims' apartments, how does he get them?' Horton glanced down at the lists he had made and saw it staring out at him. 'They all have children. Which means…'
Cantelli caught his drift and sat up excitedly. 'They could all have grandchildren. Ellen and Marie have a key to my mum's so they can pop in there after school. That's it, Andy! We've cracked it.'
Almost. With his heart racing, Horton said, 'Our antiques mastermind gets the victims' keys from the grandchildren, copies them and lets himself into the properties after checking them out by posing as a bogus neighbour, priest, police officer or whatever.' Horton was convinced he'd struck gold. He glanced at his watch. Damn, it was too late to call the victims now to check out their theory. 'I wouldn't mind betting that all the victims' grandchildren attend the same school, but there's only one flaw.'
'What?'
Horton stared down puzzled and slightly despondently at his list, then looked up. 'Somehow I can't see any of the grandchildren of these fairly well-to-do pensioners attending the Sir Wilberforce Cutler.'
Fifteen
Tuesday: 9 A.M.
They didn't. But as one victim after the other mentioned the school their grandchildren did attend, Horton's hopes rose and he felt his pulse racing. He rapidly assimilated the information and put it together with what the head teacher of Nettleside High, Simon Thornecombe, had told them, that Langley had visited that school on the day she had been killed. Perhaps it hadn't been until then that she had recognized the antiques thief and decided to blackmail him.
This is the way we go to school… This is the way we come out of school… And, if Horton remembered correctly, Jessica Langley would have driven past Nettleside High on her way to her own school and on her way home. Oh, they had a joker killer on their hands all right. And that wasn't all Horton learned from his phone calls.
In the car, as they headed towards Nettleside High, he said to Cantelli: 'Not only do all the grandchildren have keys to their grandparent's flats but they all attend after school drama classes, and who better to impersonate a police officer, fire safety officer, priest and a neighbour but a drama teacher?'
Cantelli let out a low whistle. 'He's smart this one.'
And wicked, thought Horton, as the image of Langley's body, abandoned on the mulberry with her flesh covered by the small crabs, assailed him, not to mention poor Tom Edney lying in that pool of blood with his throat slit. The poor man hadn't deserved that and Horton still felt some responsibility for his death even though he knew that he shouldn't do. He desperately wanted to catch this smart-alec killer and wipe the smirk from his face. He realized that this was now nothing to do with finding the killer before Tony Dennings took control of the case, or proving himself to Uckfield. It was simply a case of bringing an evil killer to justice.
He said, 'A drama teacher or coach would know how to disguise himself and put on an act. He could chat to the kids about their grandparents, take an impression of the keys whilst the little darlings are on stage, and if he doesn't get it right first time, he can always try again, the following week or maybe when they're in another class. All we have to do now is find out who teaches drama at Nettleside High and we've got him.'
'Sounds simple.'
'I know, and that's what makes me nervous.' Horton had learnt a long time ago that nothing in this life was ever simple or straightforward.
'And you reckon this drama teacher used Mickey Johnson and his mate to carry out the robberies.'
'The last one anyway. Johnson had to take the stolen goods to the victim's boat because our man was killing Langley on his boat and taking her to the mulberry that night.'
'It's bad luck for Johnson then that the drunk stumbled on to the boat and gave him away.'
Horton stiffened. Cantelli's words uttered so casually were like a dousing in icy cold water. They stole the breath from him. It couldn't be. But he was instantly sure that he was right. At last he was getting inside the mind of this killer. 'My God, Barney, this gets more complicated by the minute. I think that was deliberate.'
Cantelli threw him a puzzled glance before putting his eyes back on the road.
Horton continued. 'We got an anonymous tip off that something was going down at the Town Camber that night. We were even told which row of boats to keep under surveillance. That drunk appeared out of nowhere and knew exactly whose boat to stumble on and we know it wasn't his own boat. I think Johnson and his mate were set up by this drunk and he has to be our antiques mastermind, and our killer.'
'He took a hell of a risk.'
'Did he though? What happened to him in the mad panic after Johnson was rumbled?'
'I…er…I don't know. I grabbed Johnson, you went after the boy and Elkins jumped on the boat and got the holdall of stolen goods. The drunk sort of got shoved out of the way.'
'And did you get a name and address?'
'Shit!'
Horton knew it. It confirmed his theory. 'Don't worry. It would probably have been false.'
'We might have recognized him though.'
'Not this man. He's a master at disguise.'
'But why go to all that trouble?' Cantelli asked, swinging into the car park at Nettleside High School.
'We'll ask him, but I wouldn't mind betting it was for the hell of it, the thrill of the thing or because he thought it would be a good joke to play on us.'