He thought about the sighting of her on the CCTV recording the night Rowland Gilmore had died and her appearance at Horsea Marina when Tom Brundall's boat had been set alight; had Janice Hassingham had a hand in their murders? She could have poisoned Rowland Gilmore and thrown a lighted match on to Brundall's boat. He frowned. There was something bugging him and then with a shock he realized what it was. Both Janice and Selina had entered the warehouse before Sebastian, but when had they come out again? Damn, he should have asked. It was a glaring oversight on his part. His head was too full of theories. If Cantelli had been firing on all cylinders he would have asked. There was no time to call in now because Janice was pulling out of the car park. Horton followed at a discreet distance. He was surprised when she turned right into Queens Street and headed towards the harbour, rather than left and out of the city.
Just past Oyster Quays she indicated right and after a short distance swung into the Wightlink Ferry car park. He pulled up on the opposite side of the road as she spoke to the man on the gate who directed her into one of the many already packed boarding lanes. She wouldn't get far on the Isle of Wight, he thought, unless she had a private aeroplane waiting for her at Bembridge or Sandown Airport to take her on somewhere. Or perhaps she was going to meet Croxton on a boat in one of the marinas there. That would certainly fit with his theory about Brundall and Sherbourne's killer travelling back and forth to Guernsey by boat. Maybe she was just spending the Christmas holiday on the Isle of Wight and he should let her go, but something told him he had to pursue her, even despite or perhaps because of a sense of excitement mixed with foreboding.
He craned his neck to see the electronic sign in front of the car park, which told him the next sailing was at three o'clock and it was already five minutes past three. The ferry was running late, probably because of the high winds and the sheer number of Christmas holiday passengers. He could see it now coming into the port and knew it had a twenty minute turnaround time to unload and load cars.
He watched Janice hurry across to the ticket office and then saw her re-emerge and climb into her car. He called Walters and asked him to check the CCTV recording for the times that Selina and Janice left the warehouse and call him back. Then he waited until the first cars started loading and swung into the car park. He didn't want to alert the staff to the fact that he was a police officer and on duty, so wearing his helmet he dashed into the ticket office, removing it once inside, and praying he'd get a ticket for the same ferry even though it was crowded. His luck was in. A few minutes later he was on board and they were pulling out of Portsmouth Harbour.
He found Janice in the main passenger lounge at the opposite end of the ship to the cafe. Taking care not to be seen by her he positioned himself at one of the tables where he was alone, keeping the back of her head in view, and when the safety announcement was over he called Trueman. For once he was grateful for the noise of the overexcited screaming children who were running up and down the aisles; they would drown out his voice.
'Is there an Isle of Wight number on Sebastian Gilmore's mobile phone bill? The code's 01983.'
'I'll check and call you back.'
Knowing that Janice couldn't get away on board the ferry, Horton waited until they were in the Solent and the crowd at the cafe had died down before fetching himself a bottle of water and some sandwiches. He wasn't sure when he'd next get the chance to eat. Janice was still there when he returned to the same table. The captain announced that the crossing would be slightly choppy, and a couple of car alarms were sounding off on the decks below as the ship began to roll a little. He called Walters. 'Well?'
'I've looked until my eyes feel as though they're going to pop out of their sockets but I'm buggered if I can see either of them leave that warehouse at any time. They could have slipped out at the same time as the forklift truck and been hidden behind it.'
That was a strong possibility. 'Check the recordings in the reception area and see if they re-entered the office block. And find out where Selina Gilmore is.'
Horton bit into his sandwich. So, the only person who came out after Sebastian Gilmore was the square-set man wearing a cap. Could this have been Selina? The build was wrong but she could have been padded out, and if she were wearing flat shoes instead of her usual high-heeled boots then the height wouldn't be far off. But why kill her father? Had Sebastian threatened to tell the police about his part in the killings and Selina thought it would ruin the business and her career?
Was this square-set man Janice Hassingham or a relative of Lynmor's? Perhaps it was an employee and perfectly innocent, or it could be an employee with a grudge against Sebastian. Gilmore's death might have nothing to do with Brundall's and Rowland Gilmore's. But no, that couldn't be.
His mobile rang. It was Trueman. 'There's no Isle of Wight number on Gilmore's mobile account.'
Damn. Was this a wild goose chase? He rung off with a sinking heart thinking that it was, and was mightily glad he hadn't said anything to Uckfield. Best stay on the ferry as she docked at Fishbourne and then return to Portsmouth. He sat back feeling despondent. Munching his sandwiches, he ran through the facts. What was Selina's part in all this? Had she really gone to Tri Fare? Was that connection between Anne Schofield and Rowland Gilmore important? Was he completely hoisting up the wrong mainsail?
With Janice in sight, Horton had another thirty-five minutes on the ferry, so he delved into his jacket and took out the somewhat crumpled file on his mother. He studied the statements taken from the casino staff.
There was nothing startling in them, just what a good worker Jennifer was and attractive. The punters loved her. Then one bright copper — thank the Lord for some intelligence in the force — had thought to ask if there had been any one punter in particular. There had been. Horton sat up. Hallelujah! But as he read on his exhilaration turned to disappointment. The witness, Irene Ebury, couldn't recall his name and said that Jennifer had been very coy about him. Was this Irene Ebury still around? Could he find her? The address she had given no longer existed; those houses had been pulled down to make way for the continental ferry port.
He read on. Irene said that Jennifer had first started going out with this man about a year ago. Then he must have vanished from the scene because Jennifer had been mooching around with a face as long as a bloodhound's. Just before her disappearance, though, he must have returned because Jennifer brightened up. She hinted that she was going to chuck in the job, which of course had made the police think that she had run off with lover boy.
His heart gave a lurch at that. Funny thing was though, he read, she kept singing that stupid song — you know the one that Marilyn Monroe sang in some film about diamonds?
Horton felt as though he'd experienced an electric shock. Christ! How the memories flooded back. 'Diamonds are a girl's best friend'. Of course. Holy shit! This was it.
His mind whirred back down the years, his mother singing and dancing around the living room. Him smiling at her, happy because she was happy. She had taken his hands and spun him round, singing 'Diamonds are a girl's best friend'.