Shroud of Evil (8 page)

‘Do you have an ID?’ Gaye asked.

Horton told her who it was and relayed the circumstances behind the finding of the body and its location. She listened attentively without comment. By the time he’d finished, the mortuary attendant indicated with a nod that he had got the pictures he wanted.

‘Shall we turn him over? Perhaps you’d give us a hand, Inspector?’

It was the first time Horton had viewed the rear of the corpse and his interest was immediately heightened when he saw that the sail had been doubled up around the body with the ends joining at the back and the knots in the lines securing it tied expertly. His eyes flicked to Gaye.

Clearly she read his thoughts.

‘They’re bowline knots,’ Horton said. Even though Uckfield owned a boat it was of the motor cruiser variety and Horton wasn’t sure he knew all things nautical – in fact he doubted it. ‘They’re perfect for when you need a strong loop of line around something to secure it. This killer knew what he was doing.’

He thought back to where Kenton’s car had been found. Both Oyster Quays Marina and the Camber were within walking distance of the Admiralty Towers car park. Had Kenton met someone on a boat in either of those places? But if so why park in Roger Watling’s space? Maybe Kenton knew it would be vacant until Saturday morning and was expecting to be back long before then.

Horton watched with bated breath as the mortuary attendant began to untie the knots. After a few moments he peeled back the double thickness of the sail to reveal that Jasper Kenton was naked.

‘No immediate evidence of cause of death,’ Gaye said, studying the neck, buttocks and back of the legs. ‘No sign of strangulation or stabbing and no blunt force trauma to the skull. Inspector, if we could call on your assistance again, we’ll lift him and get him unwrapped, as Superintendent Uckfield put it. Perhaps you’d like to help me extract the sail, Superintendent.’

Uckfield looked as though he didn’t like to but had to grudgingly oblige.

Horton took a breath and steeled himself for the unpleasant task of lifting the body with the help of the burly mortuary attendant. Gaye drew first the lines away and put them in an evidence bag and then with Uckfield’s assistance began to pull away the sail from the body. Horton could see that although sizeable it wasn’t from a big yacht. He and the mortuary attendant replaced the naked body of Jasper Kenton on to the mortuary slab while Uckfield and Gaye stuffed the sail into a very large evidence bag and heaved it on to the trolley.

Red faced from the exertion, Uckfield said, ‘The killer must have had a hell of a job wrapping him up in that.’

‘Which suggests he is strong and fit,’ answered Horton, thinking of the beachcomber, recalling those strong suntanned hands as he’d given Horton the tatty business card. He’d certainly looked fit even though he must have been in his fifties.

But Gaye contradicted him. ‘The victim could have fallen dead or unconscious on the sail cloth, which had already been folded over in preparation to receive the body. It would only be a case of undressing him, unless he was already naked, and then easing the body one way and then the other to tie the knots. It would have been easier if there were two of them. Let’s turn him over and see if we can find out how he died.’

This time Horton’s services weren’t required. The mortuary attendant and Gaye turned the body on to its back and immediately Horton saw what must have been the cause of death. ‘He was shot,’ he declared, staring at the round-shaped hole in the upper thorax of the hairless chest before exchanging a swift glance with Uckfield who was looking worried and rightly so.

Gaye frowned as she studied it. ‘It looks that way but I can’t say for certain until I open him up, or even if it was the cause of death. He could have been alive when he was put in that shroud and placed in the water and therefore drowned.’

Horton suppressed a shudder at the thought. And judging by Uckfield’s glowering countenance he didn’t like what they were seeing any more than Horton did. What on earth had Kenton been doing to get himself shot, stripped, bundled up in a sail cloth and dumped on the shore?

‘Whoever shot him aimed well,’ he said.

‘Yes. Right at the heart,’ Gaye answered almost abstractedly, which wasn’t like her, thought Horton, wondering what she was thinking.

He said, ‘His clothes have been removed to try and hide forensic evidence.’

‘Probably. And just to make it more difficult,’ she added, ‘your killer decides to wrap him up in a sail to further confuse any traces of forensic evidence and leave the sea to eradicate even more.’

Uckfield sniffed. ‘A clever-dick killer. Let’s hope he made some mistakes along the way. They usually do.’

Gaye looked up. ‘We might get something on where the body was prior to being found on the shore from an analysis of hair and skin. But there’s more.’ She paused. Horton could see her mind racing with thoughts. ‘The body is wet.’

‘Yeah, well it has been in the sea,’ Uckfield sneered sarcastically.

Gaye rolled her eyes at him while Horton rapidly thought. ‘Wet all over?’ he asked sharply.

‘Yes.’ She waited for him to say it.

‘Which means he must have been immersed in the sea before being wrapped in the sail cloth.’

‘The sail cloth is laminated, which means it’s waterproof. And from what I could see there didn’t appear to be any tears or holes in it, but we’ve only shoved it into a bag, not examined it. You’ll need to have it tested to see if it has lost its waterproof capability. And if he was shot and fell on to it then there might be traces of blood. But he might not necessarily have been in the sea. I’ll test skin samples for a saline content but he could have been shot in the bath or the shower, hence his nakedness, and the killer could then have wrapped him in the shroud and put him in the sea. He could even have been shot in a shower on board a boat.’

‘I thought you were meant to be giving us something to help our investigation, not make it more complicated,’ grumbled Uckfield. ‘Time of death?’

And this, thought Horton, was a critical point.

She considered this while scanning the corpse. ‘As you know a body usually sinks because the specific gravity of it is very close to that of water. As putrefactive gas formation decreases so the body gravity creates enough buoyancy to allow it to rise to the surface and the length of time this takes depends on whether the body is dressed in heavy clothing, which this victim wasn’t, although I would say that sail was heavy enough to make him sink. Normally, at this time of the year, his body would have risen to the surface between three and five days but the victim hasn’t been dead that long. Even despite being cocooned there would have been much clearer signs of decomposition than there are. Post-mortem lividity looks well established, as you can see by the purple colouring of the skin, and rigor mortis is also well established but the temperature of the sea might have slowed it down. I’d say time of death twenty-four hours but that is very approximate. You could be looking at less or possibly more.’

Uckfield raised his eyebrows as though to say
thanks a bunch
.

‘I might be able to be more precise when I open him up, and when we examine stomach contents.’

Horton’s own stomach churned as though in sympathy, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since that bacon sandwich on The Hard, which seemed a lifetime ago, not that he felt much like food now. He quickly assimilated Dr Clayton’s information.

‘That puts it sometime late Friday afternoon but he was last seen leaving Swallows at four-thirty on Thursday afternoon. Are there signs he was restrained?’

‘Difficult to tell because of the lividity but I’ll certainly take a closer look.’

Horton addressed Uckfield. ‘We need to know what time he entered the Admiralty Towers car park.’

‘Get Trueman on to that. Any ideas on the shroud, apart from it being a sail?’ Uckfield asked Gaye.

‘It looked old, or rather I should say worn. I couldn’t see a number on it, could you?’ she asked Horton. A sail number might help to identify the boat it had once belonged to, although that wouldn’t necessarily give them the killer. The sail could have been abandoned or sold on long ago, or the boat itself could have been sold. They might get a manufacturer’s mark or name on the sail, Horton thought, which could give them the name of the person who had bought it,
if
the manufacturer had kept records, but that didn’t mean he was the killer. In fact Horton doubted he was because he couldn’t see this killer giving them such a nice big signpost saying ‘killer this way’. It could have been purchased second or third hand years ago. He said he hadn’t seen any number on it and Uckfield shook his head to indicate he hadn’t seen anything either, but they hadn’t unfolded it.

Gaye glanced at the mortuary clock. ‘I’ll hopefully have more for you by seven-thirty.’

Horton took the evidence bags containing the sail and the lines, thanked her and addressed Uckfield after they had disrobed and were heading out of the mortuary.

‘It could have been an accident, the gun went off, the killer panicked, undressed the body and wrapped him up like that, thinking he might sink when thrown overboard.’

‘It looks to me as though someone aimed right at his heart. And that means either an ace shot, or someone he knew well enough to get that close to him. Someone he didn’t expect to shoot him or he thought wasn’t capable of doing so.’

‘Unless he was bound and gagged and unable to move.’

Uckfield grunted an acknowledgement. ‘Bliss should have that list of Swallows’ clients by now. If not, find out what’s keeping her. I’ll get Kenton’s flat sealed off. Marsden can go in there tomorrow. Dennings will instigate a search of the beach where Kenton was found and those woods to see if we can find the weapon but I can’t see this killer going to all that trouble with the corpse and then tossing his gun aside. We’ve got about a good hour and a half of daylight left.’

‘Not in those woods you haven’t, Steve; they’re really dense.’ For a moment Horton thought he’d given away the fact that he’d been there but Uckfield didn’t pick up on it.

‘OK, we’ll go in as soon as it’s light tomorrow.’

‘Better inform Danby. It’s private land.’

‘Yeah, wouldn’t want His Lordship’s nose put out of joint. He might complain to Wonder Boy,’ Uckfield sneered, climbing into the waiting police car. He gave the driver instructions to take them to Newport station, adding to Horton that he’d stay on the island until he had further information from Dr Clayton. ‘Call Elkins, get him to collect you and get that stuff over to the lab and examined pronto.’ But as they drew up outside the police station Uckfield’s phone rang. ‘Bliss,’ he mouthed to Horton and indicated for him to remain in the car.

Horton watched Uckfield, wondering what Bliss had discovered. Uckfield made no comment except to grunt and sniff. Then he said, ‘OK, Inspector Horton will deal with that?’ He rang off. ‘Eunice Swallows says the only client they have on the Isle of Wight is the wife of the man whose apartment you forcibly entered this morning.’

Horton raised his eyebrows. It sounded promising. And it fitted with his theory that Brett Veerman could have seen Kenton following him and approached him. ‘Where do they live?’

‘Just outside Fishbourne. Gulls End, Northwood Lane.’

Not far from the abbey, and if Horton remembered correctly the lane backed on to the Solent. His interest heightened.

‘Interview them both. I’ll get those evidence bags shipped back to the mainland labs.’

Horton handed them over.

Climbing out, Uckfield added, ‘The car will drop you off there but tread carefully for now. You’ll be revealing to Mr Veerman that his wife thinks he’s got a bit on the side and to Mrs Veerman that we suspect her husband of being involved in murder. Tell them as little as possible. Go easy until we’ve got more evidence.’

‘And if Brett Veerman confesses to killing Kenton?’ Horton said with a hint of sarcasm.

‘We wouldn’t be so lucky.’

No, Horton didn’t think they would.

H
orton eyed the large contemporary house at the end of a long gravel driveway and thought that whatever Brett Veerman did for a living it paid extremely well. The place must be worth a couple of million pounds at least. Or perhaps it was Mrs Veerman who had the money and she was getting fed up sharing it with her husband’s lover.

He climbed out of the police car, pleased that the rain had abated for a while, and turned his gaze from the timber and glass three-storey house to the triple garage block on his right. In front of it was parked an expensive silver Volvo. The grounds were expansive and well cared for but a little bland, just grass and a few shrubs and trees. The house itself was the last along a private wooded lane and Horton had been correct: it backed on to the Solent. He set off towards the left of the house where he caught sight of the gunmetal grey sea beyond a long stretch of grass, at the bottom of which was a tall, slim man hosing down a dinghy. Beside him to his left was a sizeable timber boat shed.

Horton made to head in that direction when the front door of the house opened and two liver and white Springer Spaniels charged out, careering around him without barking. They were followed by a slim woman in her early fifties wearing stout shoes, khaki trousers and a dark green fleece jacket along with a scowl, which she directed at the police car. She was carrying a dog lead.

‘You’ve come to see me,’ she said crisply in a slightly husky voice that had an edge of condescension about it rather than sexiness.

Eunice Swallows had obviously called Thelma Veerman. He made to show his warrant card but she waved it aside.

‘Can we walk.’ It wasn’t a question. She set off after her dogs at a brisk pace, leaving him little option but to join her. He didn’t mind though. It was better to get her on her own. But he would need to talk to her husband later.

He stopped only to tell the police officer he could go. There was no need for an officer to accompany him to take notes during the interview, which was meant to be low-key and informal according to Uckfield’s instructions. And from here, when he’d finished, he could walk either to the car ferry terminal to the west at Fishbourne or to the hovercraft and fast cat passenger ferry to the east.