A Killing Coast dah-7 Read online

  ‘Only good!’

  ‘Great then.’ He smiled and let his eyes travel to her left hand. The diamond of her engagement ring was big enough to attract a short-sighted thug from fifty yards. And her diamond and ruby encrusted watch would keep Portsmouth Council in funds for a year.

  ‘It’s OK, I’ve got protection,’ she said, reading his thoughts.

  Horton followed her glance to the adjoining table where he saw the man with broad shoulders he’d seen on the deck of the superyacht earlier, and whom Walters had nicknamed Schwarzenegger. How could he have missed those massive shoulders, matching muscles and close-cropped blond hair? Easy: he’d been ogling Avril Glenn. Wearing a black leather bomber jacket over a dark T-shirt and sipping mineral water, Lloyd looked as out of place as a miner at a lighting convention.

  ‘Who’s protecting your husband?’

  ‘His security system.’

  ‘Then I hope all his alarms go off at once.’ She smiled as Horton added, ‘Will your chaperone let me buy you a drink?’

  ‘His name’s Lloyd, that’s his first name. Lloyd Durham, as in the city, but he’s from Reading.’

  ‘Not half so nice, though generally warmer.’ And Horton was wishing Lloyd was at either place right now, or on that small cruise liner on the pontoon.

  ‘Vodka and tonic, please. You don’t have to buy Lloyd a drink.’

  Good, because he wasn’t offering. ‘Won’t Mr Glenn mind you being here?’ he asked. He was fishing and she knew he was.

  ‘Russell is working.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Trying to buy Portsmouth Football Club.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘Yes, though I have been doing my best to persuade him. It might work yet.’

  And with Avril doing the persuading, Horton wondered how Glenn could possibly refuse.

  Horton went to the bar, nodding at Lloyd on his way and getting a nod in return. While he waited to be served he staved off his disappointment at not seeing Avril alone by wondering about Lloyd’s background. Ex-job? Walters would have said if he were, though knowing Walters he probably hadn’t asked. Ex-services perhaps, he looked fit enough for the marines or commandos. At least Glenn took protecting his wife seriously. Too seriously, he wondered briefly? No. Not if she went around wearing that kind of jewellery. And that made him even more concerned about Friday evening’s reception. If Avril touted that stuff as everyday wear then what the devil would be on show on Friday night?

  He returned with her vodka and tonic and a Diet Coke for himself. Taking the glass in her beautifully manicured hand, she managed to brush her fingers against his. His heart stalled and for a moment he wondered if it would restart.

  ‘I heard DC Walters mention you to Lloyd this afternoon and I was curious to see if you remembered me.’

  ‘How could I forget?’ But he had.

  ‘It was a long time ago. You haven’t changed much.’

  ‘Neither have you.’

  ‘God, don’t tell me I’ve wasted all this money on expensive beauty treatments.’

  ‘Didn’t need it and still don’t,’ Horton said gallantly, enjoying himself. He made sure to angle his body so that he couldn’t see Lloyd.

  She said, ‘You know I’m married but how about you? Married, engaged, divorced?’

  ‘About to be divorced and living on a boat, like you, but mine’s a permanent home, and a row boat compared to your palace. It’s in Southsea Marina. My marriage broke up last August. One child, Emma, nearly nine years old and beautiful.’

  ‘Of course, with a dad like you. We don’t have kids, never seemed to happen and I wasn’t that fussed anyway.’

  ‘There’s still time.’

  ‘No fear. Well, that’s got that out of the way. What shall we talk about now?’

  Horton wanted to know why she wanted to see him, but instead asked, ‘How did you meet Russell?’

  ‘He was staying in the hotel where I was working in the south of France. He asked me to work for him as his PA eight years ago and things progressed from there.’

  Horton recalled that he’d met Avril when she’d been working as a receptionist in a local hotel, much like Hannah Yately he thought briefly, with a twinge of guilt that he’d postponed visiting her father’s apartment. But one night wasn’t going to make any difference when Yately was in the mortuary. But what if he wasn’t? He should have checked or at least got the local police to check. He shifted and brought his mind back to when he and Avril had met. There had been a spate of thefts in the hotel where Avril was working. After a four month relationship Avril had called it quits by telling him she was going abroad to work.

  ‘And you’re happy?’ he said.

  ‘Who wouldn’t be?’ Her eyes slipped towards the boat.

  It was an answer but not the right one, he thought. But then maybe for Avril it was, and she had got everything she’d ever needed and wanted. He recalled that she’d had it tough as a child, like him. But with her it had been a case of a drunken father who had pissed away most of his dole money for most of his life and had lived off his wife’s earnings as a waitress. Avril had been left to her own devices as a child and hadn’t received much education, but she’d worked hard, been bright, and, he recalled, ambitious and anxious to escape Portsmouth. Well, she’d certainly achieved that and now she’d returned in style. And perhaps that was the real reason why she wanted to see him, to demonstrate to someone who remembered her how well she’d done for herself, and how far she’d travelled from the poor working-class girl she’d been. But perhaps more importantly to show herself how far she’d come.

  She eyed him steadily, twirling the glass in her slender hands. ‘I suppose you think I’m showing off,’ she said, reading his thoughts with uncanny accuracy that made him wonder if he was beginning to let his guard down too much. Adrian Stanley had seen through him this morning but then Stanley was ex-job, Horton reasoned. Maybe it applied to an ex-lover too.

  ‘I guess I am in a way, but only to myself.’ She gave a brief smile before the serious expression returned. ‘I’m not here to rub anyone’s noses in it because there’s no one’s nose left to rub. Dad died a year after I left to work abroad and Mum three years after that. There’s no one I care to remember in Portsmouth, except you, and I don’t need to show off to you. No, I’m here for several reasons and one is because the yacht was built in Southampton and launched from there last Friday, and we had to pick up three new crew members from the Superyacht Training Academy here in Portsmouth at the weekend.’

  Horton hoped they’d been thoroughly vetted, along with the rest of the crew. There was always a possibility of a job being organized or coordinated from the inside.

  ‘Do you know the academy?’ she asked.

  ‘Not much call for hiring superyacht crew on my little boat.’

  She laughed. ‘Pity you’re a copper. You’d make a great skipper.’

  ‘Wrong kind of boat, Avril. I like ones that have a bit of cloth on a pole.’

  ‘Oh, the complicated, energetic kind,’ she teased.

  He nodded. Even if Glenn’s boat was a sailing yacht, Horton knew that being so close to Avril and seeing her with Glenn would be enough to drive him nuts. He’d spoken the truth though when he’d said he didn’t know the Superyacht Training Academy. He made a mental note to find out more about them, not because there might be anything suspicious, but because they were on his patch.

  ‘And the other reason is this VIP charity reception,’ he prompted.

  ‘Yes. I can’t say Russell’s thrilled about it, he’s a very private man and hates these kinds of flashy functions but I wanted to host it because I feel guilty.’

  Horton raised his eyebrows. ‘Because you’re rich?’

  ‘No, because I let my mum down.’ Her expression clouded over and she sipped her vodka before continuing. ‘Mum died of pancreatic cancer and I wasn’t here to look after her or to say goodbye. She’d had a tough life with Dad being the shitbag he was. I d
idn’t always see eye to eye with her, we rowed frequently, as you might remember. I thought her weak and pathetic for putting up with a drunk who treated her like a punchbag when he felt like it, and I couldn’t get away from her, dad and Portsmouth quick enough. But that was fifteen years ago, and I’d like to think I’ve grown up a bit since then. I know that mum took the punches in order to protect me, and I left her to handle her cancer alone because I was shit-scared that I’d end up looking after her and become trapped. And I hate traps,’ she added with feeling. ‘Can you understand that?’

  Horton nodded. He could.

  ‘Mum never once asked me to come home, she never complained and I stayed away until it was too late. I returned for the funeral for one day and I was back on the plane as fast as my legs would carry me. The local hospice was marvellous to mum so this is my way of assuaging my guilt, by thanking them and saying sorry to my mum.’ She gave a sad smile before adding, ‘All the great, good and famous from all around are paying for their tickets to come on board for caviar and champagne, including your new Chief Constable, Mr Meredew.’

  That didn’t surprise Horton. If Uckfield’s father-in-law had still been the Chief Constable then no doubt Uckfield would have wangled himself an invitation. Horton doubted if mere Detective Superintendents were included.

  Avril was saying, ‘It’s in aid of the hospice and we’re holding an auction. I’ve got Oliver Vernon as auctioneer, he’s an art historian and used to handling auctions so he knows how these things work. I’ve got jewellery, artworks, designer clothes all donated by some very famous people-’

  ‘On board?’ Horton asked, alarmed, wondering why the hell Walters hadn’t told him this.

  ‘No.’ She smiled. ‘We’re showing the goods on screen in the on board cinema.’

  ‘Of course,’ Horton said airily, but he was relieved. Despite Lloyd’s muscles and the state of the art security system, and extra patrols, Horton didn’t think they’d be any match for an organized raid if it happened. His mind flitted to that blue van. Could it have been casing Glenn’s superyacht? Not if it was the same one that had been outside Stanley’s apartment some fifteen miles away.

  ‘Oliver should be here in a moment,’ Avril said, her eyes searching the busy boardwalk. ‘And Dominic Keats. He’s the Managing Director of the Superyacht Training Academy.’ A glance at her watch had Horton quickly scanning the interior of the bar for loitering thieves. Even Lloyd looked jumpy. ‘Ah, there’s Dominic.’

  Horton followed her gaze to a tall man in his early fifties with short dark hair, and an expensive sailing jacket worn over causal clothes. He halted at the top of the pontoons and stared around with a puzzled expression on his aquiline face, before stepping into the small marina office. Avril tossed back the remainder of her vodka and sprang up. Lloyd followed suit. Avril said, ‘Come and meet him.’

  Horton wasn’t particularly keen to, but how could he refuse? Dominic Keats smiled as Avril greeted him warmly.

  ‘This is an old friend of mine, Andy Horton; he’s a police inspector so you’d better watch out,’ she said, laughing.

  Keats looked as though he’d just suffered a severe bout of indigestion but he took Horton’s hand in a firm grip and smiled briefly and dismissively. Horton got the sense of an impatient, ambitious man who measured people in terms of their wealth and business potential, and as he clearly had neither, Keats wasn’t going to waste time and energy on him.

  ‘And here’s Oliver.’ Avril waved at a slim man, about mid forties, with fair hair and a close-cropped fair beard on a narrow but friendly face. He was casually dressed in jeans and jumper under a dark coat, carrying a canvas computer bag slung over his shoulder and trailing a small suitcase.

  Oliver Vernon’s grasp wasn’t as firm as Keating’s, but his light-blue eyes were intelligent and friendly.

  ‘We’ve got some great pieces to auction,’ Oliver Vernon said enthusiastically, after Avril had made the introductions. ‘Thanks to Avril’s persuasive skills.’ Horton could well imagine. ‘Some fine art, antique jewellery, exquisite antique porcelain as well as the usual, holiday for two on a millionaire’s island paradise.’

  ‘Not Russell’s,’ Avril added, smiling, ‘but we’re donating a four day cruise on the yacht. You could bid for it, Andy.’ she teased. ‘You are coming to the auction, aren’t you? Please say you can make it.’

  Horton quickly stifled his surprise and rapidly tried to think of an excuse to refuse. The obvious one was work but he found himself saying, ‘Thanks. That would be nice.’ Nicer still if Glenn wasn’t there. Still, he was curious to meet the man who had made millions and won Avril’s heart, or at least her devotion, even if she worshipped at the altar of wealth. But who was he to criticize? It was her life. He didn’t know what the new Chief would make of his appearance on board though. Bliss would be sick with envy if she ever found out and so would Uckfield, he guessed. Horton hoped that neither they nor anyone else would. He’d come in for endless ribbing and snide comments.

  ‘Great.’ She sounded and looked genuinely pleased, but Horton still suspected he was being invited so that she could boast to at least one person who remembered her from her poverty stricken past. ‘Eight thirty. Black tie. Now we’d better go, there’s Russell waiting for us.’

  Horton followed the direction of Avril’s gaze and this time had to work hard not to betray his surprise, because Russell Glenn was not how he’d imagined. In fact he was the total opposite. Instead of being tall, good-looking, forceful and well dressed, he was of average height, scruffily dressed, wearing a checked shirt that seemed to be more out than tucked into his low-slung trousers. He had untidy grey hair, wore gold-framed spectacles and appeared to be in his early sixties. He looked anxious, understandably so, what with Avril sporting the crown jewels and a huge glittering superyacht on display in a city that had almost as many villains as it had pebbles on the beach.

  Horton’s eyes travelled back to Avril. He caught a shadow of unease on her face before she smiled her goodbye and entered the marina office with her guests. With Lloyd trailing behind them, Horton watched as they made their way towards the superyacht before bringing his eyes back on Glenn, only to find Glenn staring directly at him. He tried to read the expression on Glenn’s face but it was difficult to interpret behind those spectacles and over the distance of several yards. One thing was clear though, Glenn was studying him intently. Perhaps he was jealous of anyone who knew his wife. But Horton didn’t think it was that. It was as though. .

  ‘You can’t afford it, Andy?’

  Horton swung round to find a broad, tall man in his late forties behind him. Mike Danby, ex-Chief Inspector, had less hair than Horton remembered from eight years ago, but the penetrating green eyes that had terrified many a suspect in the interview room were as piercing as ever, only now they were smiling at Horton.

  ‘You’re looking prosperous, Mike,’ Horton said, returning the smile while eyeing up the expensive leather jacket. ‘Life outside the force obviously suits you.’

  ‘It does, especially when you’ve got clients like Russell Glenn.’

  Horton raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re providing extra security for this bash on Friday?’

  ‘You know about it?’ Mike Danby asked, surprised.

  ‘We know everything in CID.’

  ‘That’s new then. When I was in CID we knew bugger all until after it happened.’

  That was still occasionally true. ‘How many men are you bringing in?’

  ‘Not sure yet. Why? Are you interested in joining the party? I’ve got a few off duty cops on the payroll for Friday night.’

  ‘I bet you have.’ Horton could well imagine they were queuing up to earn some extra money.

  ‘You should have joined me when you had the chance,’ Danby added, smiling.

  But Horton knew that life outside the force when it had been offered to him by Danby wasn’t then a possibility. And it wasn’t now. ‘And miss all the bureaucracy and back biting in the statio
n, never,’ Horton said with irony. ‘But I’m glad it’s worked out for you. Have you worked for Glenn before?’

  ‘No. Have you met him?’

  Horton shook his head. Only seen him. Glenn had now vanished inside the superyacht along with Avril and her guests. ‘How did he make his money?’

  ‘Hotels, conferences, magazines, property, you name it he seems to have had the Midas touch. Buying up or taking over failing businesses and making them profitable before selling them off. Started with nothing, came from here too.’

  ‘Portsmouth?’ Horton asked, surprised. Avril hadn’t mentioned that.

  ‘Yes, but he left when he was a child. His father died in an accident when Russell was six and his mother moved to London.’

  Horton again considered the expression he’d seen on Glenn’s face. Perhaps Glenn had been marvelling at how much had changed in the city over the years. When Glenn had been six Oyster Quays hadn’t existed and the entire area had been part of a thriving dockyard, employing thousands.

  ‘Do you do much of this sort of thing?’ Horton said, nodding at the superyacht.

  ‘Specialize in it you might say, high-profile events around the country, sometimes abroad, pop stars at gigs, celebrities who need a little extra protection. I always need good men, if ever you’re tempted. .’ Danby handed Horton his business card.

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ Horton answered, pocketing it.

  Danby glanced at his expensive watch.

  ‘You’ll be late for your meeting,’ Horton said.

  Danby eyed him shrewdly before reaching out his hand. ‘Good to see you again, Andy.’

  ‘And you.’ Horton shook it. He watched Danby’s progress down the pontoon, his mind returning to Russell Glenn. Just what had he seen on the man’s face? Unease? Anxiety? Both? Maybe. But there had been something else. Defining what that may have been remained elusive so he abandoned it and consulted his cheap watch. It was almost seven. He hesitated. So what was it to be, a late evening checking out Yately’s apartment, or an evening on his yacht, alone? He often welcomed solitude but after the events of the day, which had brought the past back to him in more ways than he had expected, it felt an especially bleak place to be. He turned and struck out for the ferry.