He pushed back the heavy plastic curtain and stepped into the chilly warehouse with its huge tanks and its smell of fish. The radio was belting out rubbishy Christmas songs. There was no one to stop him. Even the forklift truck had been abandoned. He heard Selina's heavy breathing as she caught up with them. There were voices coming from a room further down and on their right.
'Cantelli, stay with Selina.'
But Selina pushed Cantelli away and Horton nodded at Cantelli to let her go.
He strode forward purposefully, in front of them, his heart hammering against his chest, praying that what he thought might be happening actually wasn't.
'Police,' he said forcefully. The crowd parted before him to reveal a door opening into a freezer. Horton stared down at the frozen giant on the floor, huddled in the foetal position, with icicles hanging off his hair and his eyelashes, his fists clenched around his chest, his eyes wide open, covered in frost.
'Dad!'
Selina screamed and tried to push past him but Cantelli now took hold of her firmly. It was only a few seconds before the fight went out of her. Cantelli rapidly scanned the crowd, found a sympathetic and homely face on a woman and handed Selina into her care.
Horton said, 'Stop that music someone.' It didn't escape him that it was belting out the strains of 'Frosty the Snowman'. He doubted anyone else, except Cantelli, would notice the irony of the song though. That was policemen for you.
Cantelli began to clear the warehouse and Horton tentatively stepped into the freezer, not wanting to destroy any evidence. He didn't think there would be much to see, apart from signs of the desperate struggle of a man not wanting to freeze to death.
The music stopped. Thank God for that! Now all Horton could hear was the humming of the freezer and the water bubbling and running in the giant fish tanks. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves and stretched his fingers inside them. Then he crouched down on his haunches and gently closed Gilmore's eyes. That was better. He studied the body closely without touching it, shivering from the cold, despite the warmth of his sailing jacket. He could see no physical signs of attack. It would take a lot to assault a man the size and strength of Sebastian Gilmore and if he had put up a fight his assailant would have known it.
It didn't look as though there was anything in Gilmore's clenched fists, but he'd leave that for Dr Clayton to examine either here in situ or on the mortuary slab.
He felt annoyed with himself for not preventing this killing, but he was angrier still with Sebastian Gilmore. If the bloody fool had only told him the truth then he might be alive today, and Horton might also have got closer to the truth about his mother. Now, he wondered if the facts behind her disappearance would go to the grave with Sebastian Gilmore.
He tried to push such thoughts away and concentrate on the frozen corpse before him. It looked to him as though Gilmore had stepped inside the freezer and then someone had slammed the door on him. There would have been no way out, and no one would have heard his cries. Horton shuddered at the thought of such a slow and terrifying death.
Carefully, he patted the frozen pockets of Gilmore's trousers and loose-fitting casual jacket, and extracted a set of keys. There was no mobile phone. Not that it would have done the poor man much good if he'd had one; he probably wouldn't have been able to pick up a signal in here. Had his killer taken it? But no, he wouldn't have had time before slamming the door on Sebastian Gilmore. Maybe it was in Gilmore's car or office.
Horton stood up, took a further swift look around and then stepped outside. Cantelli had the crowd huddled under the awning of a second warehouse watching the scene. As a police car swept into the yard, Horton was pleased to see it contained PC Seaton and WPC Somerfield. He gave instructions for Seaton to seal off the warehouse and stand guard over it, and Somerfield to go and relieve Cantelli.
Horton crossed to Sebastian's car, and tried the doors. They were locked. Taking the keys that he'd removed from Gilmore's pocket he pressed the zapper and the doors opened with a clunk. He poked inside the glove compartment. Just the usual paperwork: insurance, service documents. No mobile phone. Zapping the car locked he looked up to see Dennings arrive and, in the car beside him, Uckfield.
'What the devil's going on?' Uckfield demanded, climbing out and surveying the activity with an irritated frown.
Horton told him. Uckfield looked surprised, then incredulous, and finally very angry. After cursing vehemently, he said, 'I hope you've got a bloody lead on this.'
Horton was very tempted to remark, 'It's not my case,' but instead said, 'No more than you or DI Dennings have.'
Uckfield glared at him, but Horton was immune to Uckfield's hostile stares, especially now he realized why Dennings had been appointed over him.
He dropped Gilmore's keys into a plastic evidence bag and pushed them into Dennings' hand. 'It's all yours, Tony. I've got enough outstanding cases in CID, which my boss wants solving…but there is one thing.' He turned to Uckfield and added, 'We need to know who that skeleton in the air-raid shelter is. This could be the result of someone seeking revenge for a relative or friend's death.'
Uckfield had thought the skeleton a distraction and now, holding Uckfield's glare, Horton saw his point had gone home.
'But why kill Anne Schofield?' Uckfield frowned, puzzled.
Yes, why? It was a flaw in his theory. Anne couldn't have had anything to do with the skeleton's death, and it didn't explain why the killer had also tried to roast him. The man in the air-raid shelter had died long after his mother had disappeared. Had the killer seen his name on the newspaper articles in Rowland Gilmore's study and assumed that his mother had been in on the murder? And, because he couldn't find Jennifer Horton, thought he'd take revenge on her son? It was a bit weak, but in a deranged mind it was possible.
When Horton didn't answer him, Uckfield continued. 'OK. Let's take a look at him.' He jerked his head at Dennings to follow. Over his shoulder to Horton he said, 'Call Dr Price and SOCO, and get some uniform back-up here.'
'Already done, sir,' Cantelli shouted back, and to reiterate his point another police vehicle on blue lights swept into the yard.
Horton turned to Cantelli. 'How's Selina?'
'Very angry. Blaming us for her father's death. I've left her with the personnel officer.'
Cantelli looked distant for a moment. Horton could see that this death and Selina's reaction had reminded him of his own bereavement. He had lost his usual bounce and wasn't even chewing his gum.
'Come on,' Horton said, 'there's someone I want to talk to before Dennings puts his oar in.'
With Gilmore dead, who did that leave as their killer? A relative of that skeleton as he'd suggested to Uckfield, or a hired killer, because Sebastian and the others had been, or were, involved in drug smuggling? If so, Horton reckoned they'd have little chance of catching him and his heart sank at that. He didn't fancy living with the prospect that his life might still be in danger, particularly if he pursued inquiries into his mother's disappearance. And then there was his future with Emma. Despite saying it wasn't his case, Horton knew he had to follow it through, either officially or unofficially, no matter what DCI Bliss might say.
In reception, Horton nodded at the worried-looking security officer. He'd noticed the CCTV cameras on Saturday when they'd come here, and now he said, 'Do those run twenty-four hours?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Let us have all the recordings for last night, early this morning, and for last Wednesday, and Friday evening. I'd also like the ones at the entrance and any others you have on the yard. We'll pick them up on our way out.'
Horton wondered if they'd get anything from them, but it was worth checking. With Cantelli following he made for Janice Hassingham's office, knocked briefly and entered. She was at her desk but she didn't appear to be doing any work. Horton thought she looked unwell. She was pale and her eyes were ringed with fatigue.