Deadly Waters dah-2 Page 8

  He shook her hand — it wasn't as firm as he had expected — and eased himself on to the seat next to her, and in front of Gaye's cluttered desk.

  Dr Woodford said, 'I came to see Gaye about another patient of mine who died last night. There was nothing unexpected in his death. He had a severe heart condition. He shouldn't have needed a post-mortem but he also had asbestosis and that does require one. I promised his widow that I would make sure everything was done…properly. I know it will be, but a promise is a promise. I'm sorry, Gaye. No aspersions on you.'

  'None taken. Relatives are naturally anxious about post-mortems.'

  Dr Woodford addressed Horton. 'I could have saved the person who identified Ms Langley the time and distress if I'd known. Who did you get?'

  'Her deputy head. It seems that Ms Langley didn't have any living relatives.'

  'I didn't know. She registered with my practice in Canal Walk in May probably because it's the closest to her school. I gave her a medical, as we do all new patients. I saw her a couple of times after that. Nothing serious, just the usual women's things. She was very fit.'

  'I can agree with that, she was in very good condition,' Gaye said.

  'What was your impression of her, Dr Woodford?' Horton asked.

  She considered this, then said, 'Lively, dedicated, intelligent.'

  After only a couple of visits, Horton couldn't expect anything more revealing. So nothing there for him, he thought with a twinge of disappointment.

  'When was the last time you saw her?'

  'About a month ago. I remember her talking about the school, or rather her staff. She was having difficulty with one or two of them. I recall her joking about it raising her blood pressure.'

  Horton's interest quickened. 'Anyone in particular?' He saw Dr Woodford hesitate and hastened to reassure her. 'It might have nothing to do with her death, but any information you can give me could help me to find her killer.'

  'Of course, I understand.' Dr Woodford looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing, 'She believed that her deputy head teacher and her secretary were having an affair and that she would have to take steps to remove one of them. They were both in critical positions of trust and she said it was hard enough trying to turn the school around, without them plotting and scheming behind her back.'

  Horton recalled the secretary, Janet Downton, and how her manner towards Tom Edney had softened when she had addressed him. It was clear that neither of them liked Jessica Langley, but there was big step between not liking someone and killing them. It was, however, an additional nugget of information and an interesting one that told against Tom Edney, and edged him a step closer to becoming a suspect. But Horton hadn't forgotten about Eric Morville and that note.

  'I'd like access to her medical records, doctor. Just routine,' he added, when she looked alarmed.

  'I don't mean to be difficult, Inspector. I'll do all I can to help catch her killer, but I do need a warrant before I can release them.'

  He nodded acquiescence. She rose.

  'I must get back. I've got a mountain of paperwork to do before surgery starts. Have you any idea who could have done such a terrible thing? Sorry, that was a silly question; you wouldn't tell me even if you had.' She smiled and Horton saw the traces of an attractive woman who had let herself go over the years through pressure of work and dedication to her duty as a doctor.

  'I'll tell you what I can, when I can.' It wasn't much of a promise, and she knew it, but she smiled again before she left.

  Gaye said, 'She was exhausted, and then to walk in here and find another of her patients on the slab… I'm glad I don't have her job. Dealing with dead bodies is much more straightforward; they can't argue back or dispute your diagnosis.'

  'Is that why you became a pathologist?'

  'That and my father.' She swivelled a photograph on her desk so that Horton found himself looking at a lean man in his late fifties with intelligent green eyes and a broad smile. 'He's retired now but he was a Home Office pathologist. Dr Samuel Ryedon. Ah, I see you've heard of him.' She smiled.

  'Who hasn't in the police service? I had no idea you were related to a living legend.'

  'I like to keep it quiet, except for the photograph that is, and nobody really notices that.'

  Horton frowned puzzled. 'Why the Dr Clayton?'

  'The name you mean? I was married. I see I've startled you again, Inspector. It didn't last long. You wanted to know about Langley.' She sat forward. Horton hadn't failed to note the abrupt change of conversation. Obviously Gaye wasn't keen to discuss her marriage. Horton completely understood that. 'Jessica Langley's skull was fractured. The shape of the wound, and the fact that I found splinters lodged in the tissue, tell me she was hit with a heavy, flattish wooden implement-'

  'So there would have been blood.'

  'It would have splattered everywhere, including over the killer if it had been the cause of death, but it wasn't. She was already dead. It is my belief she was suffocated. It's difficult to say with complete certainty because there's very little evidence in this type of case; there are no traces of any fibres inside her nose or mouth because the sea life and salt water destroyed them, but there are some tiny signs of facial oedema where the increased pressure caused tissue fluid transudation.'

  'And the marks on her arms?'

  'The blood had drained into surrounding tissue; I checked it under the microscope. It was bruising. I'd say she had been gripped with some considerable force at the top of both arms. There were no signs of sexual intercourse immediately before her death.'

  'Was she killed on the mulberry?'

  'No. She was moved there after death.' Gaye leaned back in her chair and swivelled it gently. 'There is something else though.'

  Horton saw the slight flush under her fair skin and the excitement in her eyes and hope rose in him. Would this give him that extra piece of information he needed?

  'Her jaw was dislocated. Someone hit her forcefully in the face with a fist.'

  Horton didn't like the sound of this. He gathered his thoughts, then said, 'Our killer grabbed her by the arms, perhaps shook her in a rage, released her and then punched her in the face. After which he suffocated her, moved her to the mulberry and then struck her with a wooden implement.'

  'It's a theory, but the colour and pattern of the bruising to the arms indicate that was done some time previously. She was punched on the left-hand side of her face, but she was struck on the right.'

  'Administered by two different people?'

  'Possibly. You could be looking for a right-handed person who punched her and a left-handed person who struck her with the wooden implement. Alternatively it could be a killer who is ambidextrous. Or perhaps he did that to confuse us.'

  'Great,' Horton declared, thinking in that case he'd succeeded. Was Edney left handed? He had clasped the beaker of water with both hands. And how about Morville? No, Horton was sure he had seen him roll his cigarettes and pour out his whisky using his right hand. Of course, the person who struck and suffocated her might not necessarily be the same person who had punched her.

  Could Edney have punched Jessica Langley on the jaw? Maybe she had taunted him once too often. Edney had flipped, struck her and then suffocated her. He had then used her boat to take the body as far away from the school as possible. But why not simply throw her overboard? Why take her all the way to the mulberry?

  'Have you any idea where she might have been killed?' he asked.

  'There was nothing under or on her skin to give me any clues. I've sent fragments off for analysis along with her clothes. We might get something. I'll let you know as soon as I hear. I'll send over my full report when it's ready.'

  Horton headed back to the school thinking over what he'd learned from Gaye Clayton, Dr Woodford and Tom Edney. So far, the information was like the pieces of a jigsaw lying in front of him. They didn't fit together because some of the pieces were missing. He'd find them though, and before he was compelled to hand this case o
ver to Dennings.

  If her killing hadn't been revenge motivated then why else would someone want her dead? And what, if anything, did the note found in her pocket have to do with her death?

  A uniformed officer let him through the school gates. School was over and the building workers had been sent home early. He parked his Harley next to Cantelli's car and made his way to the staff room. As he stepped inside, all eyes swivelled to stare at him for a moment, freeze-framed as if someone had hit the pause button on a DVD. Then an expectant hum of excitement broke out. At a swift glance, Horton saw that the room was crowded with a motley crew of people of assorted ages, the majority female with about a dozen men thrown in.

  He located Cantelli and caught his eye. Horton watched, as he broke off his conversation with a worried-looking dark haired man in his mid-thirties, smartly dressed in a good suit with a clean-cut, handsome face, which Horton guessed had the girls in a swoon — that's if young girls swooned nowadays. It seemed too quaint a word for the modern emancipated female.

  Horton and Cantelli drew further away from the crowd to stand just inside the door. In a low voice, Cantelli said, 'They're all on edge, trying to find out what's going on. Most of them think it's to do with the break-in, though Susan Pentlow asked me outright if Ms Langley was OK. She looks as if she's on the verge of a breakdown.'

  'Which one is she?'

  'Over there, next to Cary Grant?'

  'Huh?'

  'The teacher I was just talking to.'

  'Not his real name I take it.'

  'Timothy Boston, but he thinks he's Cary Grant. He looks a bit like him with that cleft in his chin and those dark looks, except for the height. Not tall enough.'

  Horton knew that Cantelli's passion was old black-and-white movies. He looked across to Cary Grant aka Timothy Boston who now seemed to be doing his best to console the thin, nervy woman whom Cantelli had identified as Susan Pentlow. She pushed her straight fair hair off her narrow face and nodded at what he was saying. She looked to be in her mid-thirties.

  Cantelli continued. 'According to Susan Pentlow, the sun shone out of Jessica Langley's backside. She joined the school ten years ago as an administration manager and a fortnight ago Langley promoted her to the position of business manager. I would say the promotion is too much for her.'

  'Langley's special pet?'

  Cantelli shrugged.

  Horton said, 'I'll talk to her after Edney's announcement. She might know more about Langley's movements than Edney and Janet Downton. Langley might have confided in her.'

  'Are you going to hold up the building work?'

  'We have to check the connection between the break-in and Jessica Langley's death even though I don't think it's got anything to do with the case.' He certainly wasn't going to give Uckfield the opportunity to say he'd messed up. This one was going to be a belt and braces job. 'I want all the contractors questioned and their whereabouts between eight p.m. and three a.m. verified.' He quickly relayed Dr Clayton's findings to Cantelli, then asked, 'What did Langley's solicitor say?'

  'She's left everything to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.'

  'Which confirms our belief that she was a sailor. And the Queen's harbour master?'

  'No one went out of Portsmouth harbour last night or early this morning except the Isle of Wight ferry and a couple of fishing boats at five a.m.'

  'We'll need to talk to them.'

  'They're not back until tomorrow morning.'

  'Ask the harbour master to notify us when they radio up and we'll get a unit over there to meet and interview them. Anything from the Town Camber offices on the boat owners?'

  'I haven't had a chance to check yet, and everyone in the team seems to be otherwise engaged. I'll do it after this.'

  Horton noted that Cantelli was less than his usual enthusiastic self. He'd seen Cantelli on the edge of exhaustion before and he hadn't sounded like that. Or looked so drawn. He said, 'You OK?'

  'I'll live, just a headache.'

  The door opened and Edney stepped inside. The room didn't immediately fall silent like the saloon bar when John Wayne walked in — Edney certainly wasn't any John Wayne or Gary Cooper — but there was a noticeable hiatus in the conversation.

  Edney appeared to have aged about ten years since Horton had seen him at the mortuary. There was a grim and haunted expression on his lean features.

  In a low voice, Edney said to him, 'I'm going to tell the staff that they must either stay tonight to make their statements to the police or come in tomorrow, Saturday. Is that all right with you, Inspector Horton?'

  'Yes. I doubt we'll get through them all tonight.'

  Edney nodded, squared his shoulders, and called the room to order. Horton's eyes fell on Neil Cyrus, the assistant caretaker. He was talking with an older man: grey curly hair, ruddy complexion and steel-rimmed glasses. Horton assumed it was Bill Ashling, Cyrus's boss, as they were wearing the same kind of uniform: dark trousers and sweatshirts.

  Edney surveyed the crowd over the top of his bifocals. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have a very serious announcement to make.'

  Horton wondered at his choice of words: Edney didn't say upsetting, tragic or distressing. Still, as the man had told him at the mortuary, there was no affection between him and his head teacher. Horton glanced at Janet Downton, Langley's secretary, who was perched stiffly on the edge of a chair by the window. Her expression softened as she gazed on Edney, and Horton guessed that Jessica Langley had been right about the affair.

  Edney continued. 'This morning Ms Langley was found dead. The police are treating her death as suspicious.'

  There was a stunned silence before a murmur spread around the room like a bush fire. Horton's eyes flicked around the occupants: he registered shock and bafflement. Neil Cyrus glanced across at him with a slightly alarmed expression on his round features. Perhaps he was trying to recall his conversation with them earlier to see if he had said anything that might implicate him. Bill Ashling's face flushed, his eyes darted about nervously; Janet Downton looked righteous and smug. Susan Pentlow looked as though she was going to faint, and Timothy Boston looked set to catch her if she did. He put a comforting hand on her arm.

  Edney held up his hands for silence, and was immediately obeyed.

  'The police will need to take statements from you. You are to give them your full co-operation. The sooner they find the culprit for Ms Langley's death, the sooner the school can return to normal.'

  He had stumbled over the word death, but there was no talk of justice. No expression of sadness. At least, Horton thought, he couldn't accuse the man of being a hypocrite.

  'The media attention this incident will bring us is, of course, unwelcome,' Edney went on, 'but there's little we can do about it. We must ride the storm. A statement will be issued immediately after this announcement. If journalists approach any of you, you are to refer them to me. On no account must you speak to the press unless you have been given my express permission to do so. This is merely to safeguard the school. We all know how the media can twist even the most simplest and innocent of remarks.'

  There was a slight murmur and shifting of positions, which made Horton think that Edney had been caught out once or twice. He had some sympathy with him, recalling his own brush with the media after the fall-out from Operation Extra.

  'I ask you all to remain here. Anyone unable to stay, please give your details to the officers and they will take your statements tomorrow. I'm sorry that you might have to come into school on a Saturday morning, but with half term next week it gives us a chance to get the school back to some kind of normality before the new term commences. Do you have anything to add, Inspector?'

  Edney swivelled his gaze to Horton, so did everyone else. The door behind Cantelli opened and uniformed and non-uniformed officers entered.

  'I am Detective Inspector Horton, and in charge of this inquiry.' But not for long, said a small voice in the back of Horton's mind. He angrily pushed it away. 'It is importa
nt for us to build as clear a picture as we can of Ms Langley and, of course, her movements in the last hours of her life.'

  He noticed a small moon-faced man taking off his spectacles and polishing them with vigour. An athletically built fair-haired man in his early thirties, wearing a school sweatshirt, rubbed his nose and stared downwards.

  'I need hardly add that murder is an ugly business and this death tragic.' Somehow he felt he owed it to Jessica Langley to stress that someone should feel sadness at her premature loss of life. 'I, and my team, shall make every effort to catch whoever is responsible for Ms Langley's death. If anyone knows anything about her family, or was a special friend of hers, then I would be very interested to talk to you. Thank you.'

  Most in the room burst into animated discussion, but Susan Pentlow wasn't one of them. As Horton headed towards her, the crowd parted before him, making him feel like Moses at the Red Sea.

  'Mrs Pentlow, could we have a word?'

  She started violently, let out a gasp and looked so alarmed that he thought she might faint. With a terrified expression she glanced up at her Cary Grant.

  Taking his cue, he said protectively, 'Susan isn't feeling very well. She's had a terrible shock. We all have. Can't this wait?'

  'It won't take a moment.' Horton reached out a hand to guide Susan away from the tanned, good-looking teacher, wondering if there was something going on between them.

  Boston scowled at him and then turned to Susan. In a gentle voice that didn't quite ring true with Horton, he said, 'Would you like me to come with you?' His eyes flicked to Horton's and were full of hostility, as if he thought Horton was going to torture the hapless Susan or clap her in irons.

  Susan Pentlow made an effort to pull herself together. 'No, I'll be fine.'

  Boston squeezed her arm. 'That's my girl.'

  Horton thought she'd bristle at Boston's patronizing tone, but she responded with a twitch of her lips that Horton interpreted as a nervous smile. Boston spoke again before Horton could steer her away from her knight in shining armour. 'What will happen about the building works? Only it's imperative that it be completed on time.'