He jumped down from the promenade and walked slowly towards the sea, stooping to pick up a stone. Twisting his arm back he threw it and watched it skim along the tumultuous tips of the waves. It bounced twice. In the distance he could see a tanker's lights.
As he stared into the dark night, and against the rhythm of the sea, his mind replayed the events of the last few days. So much seemed to have happened to him: sidelined out of the major crime team; Uckfield's treachery; Catherine's hostility and reluctance to allow him to see Emma… Emma's face and her tears; three deaths…
He breathed in the night air slowly and evenly and then turned and ran back. The message on that betting slip was running through his mind: 'Have you forgotten ME?' He swung into the marina and drew up sharply. There, staring at him, was the sign: Marina Entrance designed with fancy capital letters that stood out, and suddenly it clicked. ME. Of course, what an idiot! Why hadn't he realized it sooner? Now it seemed so obvious. The scrawled note on that betting slip, 'Have you forgotten ME?' meant, 'Have you forgotten Michelle Egmont?'
Horton walked on, his mind was spinning. Morville had slipped that betting note to Langley. Why? Because he wanted something from Langley, probably intended to blackmail her. So there had to be a connection between Langley and Michelle Egmont, and he guessed that Marsden would discover they had attended the same school. Though he didn't know how that could lead to blackmail, or what it had to do with Langley's death, Tom Edney's, and Boston's. But tomorrow he was damn sure he was going to find out.
Seventeen
Thursday: 10 A.M.
The next morning he asked for Morville to be brought in. Marsden had left him a copy of the coroner's report on Michelle Egmont. It made sad reading — the tragic tale of a young girl who had taken her own life. What a waste, he thought, glancing at the photograph of Emma on his desk. How could her mother have coped? But then maybe she didn't, perhaps it was this tragedy that had caused her cancer. He read that Michelle Egmont's father was already dead; he'd been killed in an industrial accident at a building firm. The poor woman had no one, only Morville, and he had run out on her when the going got tough. It was time for some answers and Morville might not be so cocky in an interview room.
'You've got no right to do this. I haven't done anything,' Morville protested, rising from his seat as Horton entered. Morville's narrow face was surly and unshaven. His clothes were creased and Horton could smell his musty body odour mingling with tobacco and alcohol.
'Sit down,' Horton commanded.
'I want a solicitor. I know how you bastards stitch people up.'
'Sit down,' roared Horton.
Morville sat.
'That's better,' Horton went on quietly, feeling disgust for this man and not much caring if he showed it. 'You are not being charged with anything. You are here to help us with our inquiries.'
'And if I don't want to?' Morville said cockily.
Horton picked up the evidence bag containing the betting slip and placed it in front of Morville: Have you forgotten ME?
He left a pause, and then said quietly, ' Michelle Egmont.'
Morville was suddenly wary, like an animal that has been relaxed and becomes attentive at the first sniff of danger. His head came up.
Horton continued. 'Why did Michelle kill herself?'
'I don't know.'
'What has Michelle's death got to do with Jessica Langley?'
'No idea.'
Horton scraped back his chair. 'Then I'll leave you until your memory returns.'
'Hey, you can't do that!'
Horton leaned across the desk. 'I can do anything I want, Morville, including charging you with the murder of Jessica Langley when she refused to give in to your blackmailing demands. You had motive and opportunity.' He didn't say that Morville also had an alibi. He was drinking in the ex-forces club at the time. He'd let Morville work that out for himself, if his alcoholic brain could still function, which Horton doubted. 'Think about it. The sergeant here will stay with you and help you to remember.'
He straightened up and had reached the door before Morville said, 'All right, but can I have a fag and a drink? I'm parched.'
'Get him a cup of tea, Constable.'
'Haven't you got anything stronger?'
'No, and the station is strictly no smoking. So, the sooner you tell me the truth the sooner you can get back to your booze and fags.'
Morville's expression of desperation told Horton he was about to get the truth. 'OK, so I gave her the note.'
'When?'
'Thursday morning, but I didn't kill her!'
'You were going to blackmail her over Michelle Egmont's death.' Horton noticed Morville's hands were shaking but was that nerves or being deprived of alcohol? Horton guessed the latter.
'Why shouldn't I? She as good as killed the poor little cow, and she could afford to pay up.'
The door opened and the constable put a plastic cup of pale brown liquid in front of Morville, which he stared at with disgust. It seemed to hasten his confession though.
'Michelle and Jessica Langley went everywhere together. They slept over at each other's house, though Jessica was mainly at Michelle's, Jessica's aunt didn't approve of such things. Her parents were killed in a road accident. They played records, giggled, washed each other's hair — you know, the sort of things girls do.'
He didn't. He thought of Emma and his heart ached at the thought of missing out on a whole chunk of her life.
Morville said, 'Something came between them. A boy, I think. I don't really know, but Jessica Langley ditched Michelle. She didn't want to see or speak to her. It was as if Michelle had suddenly got the pox or the plague. Poor kid was in a torment.' Morville's eyes misted over. Horton saw that it wasn't an act. He had genuinely felt for her. Enough to kill Langley out of revenge, his copper's brain asked.
Morville continued. 'Next thing we know Michelle topped herself. End of my relationship with her mother — I couldn't handle all that guilt and grief.'
Horton reverted to his original opinion of this man: selfish, stupid and self-centred. 'And her mother died four years later, alone and of cancer,' he said with bitterness.
Morville squirmed. 'Yeah, well, I wasn't to know.'
'No, you had gone back to sea,' Horton said with a sneer.
'Can't help it if I was in the navy, can I? You have to go where and when you're sent.'
'Very convenient,' quipped Horton. 'Did Jessica Langley go to Michelle's funeral?'
'Can't recall seeing her. But she was only a kid, fifteen. Maybe she didn't think of going. Michelle was a quiet girl. She didn't have a lot of confidence. Bright though. Did well at school, and she was pretty. But because she was shy she didn't make friends easily. Then Jessica Langley arrived and everything changed for a year until Langley ditched her. The bitch. Rosemary, Michelle's mother, thought that Jessica had killed her daughter.'
'And that's what you decided to blackmail her with!' Horton scoffed.
Morville glared. 'Why not? The newspapers were saying what a fucking saint she was. If only they knew.'
'I doubt it would have made any impact with them,' Horton dismissed. 'And you've got no evidence that Jessica was the reason for Michelle's death.' Especially, thought Horton, if Morville had been making advances to the girl. Then he saw a glimmer in Morville's eyes. 'There's more?'
'I didn't say that.'
'You didn't have to; it's written all over your ugly face. What is it, Morville?'
'Michelle left a note.'