Suffocating Sea (33 page)

Had his mother known what was going to happen? He didn’t like to think so. That would make her an accessory to robbery and murder. How could he live with that if it came out? And it would. His mother’s past would be emblazoned across every newspaper and television screen in the country when or if Warwick Hassingham came to trial. Even if his mother’s part in this was innocent there would be enough mud thrown for it to stick. Horton saw slipping from him both his career and his daughter; the two things he valued above all else in the world, and he shuddered at the memory of being so utterly and completely alone once again.

He wasn’t sure he could bear it. But what could he do – kill this evil bastard sitting arrogantly before him, with that smug grin on his sharp pointed face and wickedness glowing from his green eyes? It went against everything he believed in and yet . . .

Janice reappeared with a shrink-wrapped packet of sandwiches and some on a plate. She set them down on a table between her and Warwick.

‘Thought you might like some now,’ she said. ‘Before we get going.’

Hassingham took one, smiling sycophantically at her. With his mouth full he said, ‘I took the motorboat out with Croxton on board, dead by then, of course. The others met me off the Isle of Wight. We scuttled the boat, staged the accident and called the coastguards. I became Croxton and poor Warwick Hassingham perished overboard in a heroic rescue.’

Janice’s hands were grasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. The hatred in her eyes shook Horton.

How could Warwick not see it? But then he was so sure of himself that he wouldn’t have noticed it if she had spat daggers at him. And even if she had done, Warwick wouldn’t have cared. This was a man who had manipulated and destroyed so many people and got away with it that he thought he was invincible.

Horton could see that she hadn’t been fooled by her brother’s lies; she knew that Sebastian hadn’t killed Tom Brundall, because she had seen her brother kill him. She’d been there.

Rowland had told her where to find Tom; that was what she had said. And even through the pain in his shoulders, his feelings of hatred and panic that this man was about to destroy his life as he had destroyed his mother’s, Horton was making connections, grappling to arrange the facts, and one leapt out at him. Janice had been walking down Queens Street to the vicarage to find out where Tom was staying and then to kill Rowland, because in that overheard conversation between the brothers she had discovered that Warwick hadn’t perished in the sea after all but was alive, fit and wealthy. But why had she killed Rowland and Sebastian Gilmore?

Warwick was saying, ‘I discovered I had a talent for selling diamonds and getting people to do what I wanted. I’ve made a good living from it.’

Horton brought his attention back to Warwick whilst his mind raced with thoughts. ‘You threw Croxton’s body into the sea, dressing it with your rings, and by the time he was washed up, he was unrecognizable. There was no DNA test in those days so how did you get away with the dental records matching up?’

‘I switched them. Jennifer found out who Croxton’s dentist was and I stole my records from my dentist and substituted them. It was quite simple.’

Had his mother known about the switch?
He wanted to believe she was an innocent victim in all this, but his copper’s brain was telling him something different and it made him sick to his stomach.

‘And Sebastian did the odd smuggling of diamonds for you.’

That got a reaction from Janice. ‘I don’t believe it!’

Warwick turned his patronizing and pitying gaze on his sister. Her head came up and she glared at him.

‘How do you think he could afford to live like he did?’

Warwick said, reaching for another sandwich. Horton wondered if Selina knew this. With his mouth full, Warwick said, ‘We’d better get moving.’

There was only one track out of here; otherwise it was over the cliff and into the sea. But again Warwick thwarted him.

Stuffing the rest of the sandwich in his mouth, he said,

‘Trevor has many talents, and one of them is piloting a helicopter.’

Trevor grabbed Horton and pulled him up as though he was a rag doll. So that was how Warwick got to Guernsey to kill Sherbourne and back again. After killing Brundall, he must have caught the Fast Cat or Hovercraft back to the Isle of Wight where Terry was waiting with the helicopter, only there had been some delay in getting to Sherbourne before he’d left for his client on Thursday morning.

As Trevor hauled Horton to the door, Horton said to Janice,

‘You don’t think your brother’s going to take you with him?

You’re a liability like me. You know too much. Once outside he’ll kill us both, or maybe Trevor will kill you and Warwick me.’

She dashed hateful eyes at Warwick and in them Horton saw a glimmer of triumph and the final pieces of the puzzle fell into place. His heart lurched. He knew what she had done, but he still didn’t know why. He tried to recall how long it had taken Rowland Gilmore to die of poison, for Horton was certain that Janice was killing her brother the same way she had killed Rowland Gilmore – with pufferfish poison in the sandwiches. When would it take effect? Should he tell Warwick? Horton needed time to think, but that was a luxury he didn’t have as Trevor manhandled him along the path and on to the sodden grass, the icy rain beating into his face.

Janice and Warwick were in front of them, their bodies leaning into the bitterly cold wind, Warwick with his hand firmly on his sister’s arm. If Horton did nothing, then surely he was as guilty of murder as Janice would be? Yet if Warwick died then the facts about his mother’s past need never come out.

But if he let Warwick die, Janice and Trevor had heard what Warwick had said about Jennifer Horton, and so what was he going to do: kill them as well? Hardly.

The helicopter suddenly loomed out at them from the dark.

Horton could hear the waves crashing on to the rocks below the cliff face and wondered if that was where they would find his battered and broken body. With his heart pounding he shouted above the roar of the wind. ‘Will you push Janice out over the sea, Warwick, or is that pleasure reserved for me?’

Warwick spun round and a slight nod of his head warned Horton what was about to happen. In that split second he tensed his stomach before a fist crashed into it. The breath expelled from his body like a balloon being punctured with a pin and he doubled over in agony. Muscles hauled him up and dragged him along. Even in his pain and discomfort Horton was wrestling with his conscience. Time was running out for three of them. They were beside the helicopter and Warwick was showing no signs of the poison taking effect.

Janice looked confident though. Taking a breath, Horton knew what he had to do.

‘She’s poisoned you, Warwick, just as she poisoned Rowley.

It was in the sandwiches. If you don’t get help now, you’ll die like Rowley did.’

Warwick smiled, but as he turned to his sister and saw the triumphant grin of hatred on her face the smile died on his lips.

Horton pressed home his advantage. ‘Call for the ambulance or get Trevor to fly you to a hospital. There might still be time.’

Warwick grabbed Janice by her arms. His mouth opened but no sound came from it. Janice stared at her brother. ‘It’s too late, Warwick. You won’t get out of this one. You ruined my life and you ruined Mum’s. You let her believe her beloved son was dead. She died because of your stupid filthy greed. You’re evil, wicked and I hope you rot in hell,’ she screeched above the wind.

Horton swiftly turned to Trevor, who still had a grip like iron on him. ‘For God’s sake let me go. I might be able to help him.’

‘You’re going to die, Warwick,’ Janice roared as he suddenly let go of her, and gasping for breath, he sank to his knees.

Trevor loosened his grip on Horton to step forward and help Warwick. It had been the moment Horton had been waiting for. With lightning speed he brought his knee up hard into Muscles’ groin and felt the impact with his balls. Screaming in agony and holding on to his crutch, Trevor buckled over.

Horton brought his fist up and rammed it as hard as he could into his jaw and the man went down like a sack of lead. Horton raced over and grabbed Warwick who was struggling to breathe and beginning to convulse. Janice was watching him, smiling.

Horton could see he hadn’t got long. There was nothing he could do to save him. He didn’t have a moment to lose. He had never pleaded in his life, but there was a first time for everything.

‘What did you do with her, Warwick?’ he said, reaching for his phone. ‘For God’s sake tell me what you did with my mother’s body.’

Warwick opened his mouth. He struggled to speak. His face was contorted with pain. Horton bent low over him. ‘Just tell me, did you kill her? Nod or shake your head.’

Horton could hardly bear to see the suffering and fear in Hassingham’s eyes. He told himself he was looking into the eyes of a ruthless killer and an evil manipulator of people.

‘Did you?’ Horton raised his voice.

Hassingham shook his head.

Horton hadn’t finished yet. ‘Did any of the others kill her?’

Hassingham was convulsing. He didn’t have long to live.

‘Did they kill Jennifer?’ Horton shouted above the roar of the wind, grabbing Hassingham by his jacket lapels. Finally, just when Horton thought it was going to be too late, Hassingham shook his head. Horton looked into his terrified eyes and saw he was telling the truth.

He lowered Hassingham’s inert body to the ground, letting out a breath, feeling the tension drain from him. Unexpectedly he was swamped with an emotion so strong that it made him feel sick. Was she still alive today? Could he find her? Did he want to?

Then some instinct warned him of danger; he was caught off guard but managed to dodge to the side. He was too late though to fend off the violent blow, and it struck him on the side of his head. He slumped forward. He felt the phone being snatched from his hand. Through the shooting pain and his blurred vision he looked up to see Trevor running towards the helicopter. It spluttered into life, and shakily Horton pulled himself up. The ground spun and he staggered around, trying desperately to clear his head and focus on what was happening.

Horton had no idea where his phone was, probably on the cliffs below. He had to get back to the house and alert the authorities. Then he looked round for Janice and realized she’d gone. His eyes scoured the dark night until he saw her some distance ahead, running along the cliff edge. What the hell was she doing? Where did she think she was running to? He felt the blast of air as the helicopter lifted off.

‘Janice,’ he shouted. She was perilously close to the cliff edge, but his warning was drowned by the wind and the roaring of the helicopter.

Suddenly the helicopter was almost on top of him and Horton flattened himself into the sodden earth. As it swept past him, Horton stumbled up. Christ, it was heading for Janice.

Horton sprinted after her. Again he cried a warning but it was too late. He watched helpless as the helicopter lurched down-wards. Janice gave a cry and staggered back, her foot slipped and scrambled for some firm foothold, then she was gone.

Horton swore and with his head throbbing he increased his speed. The helicopter hovered a moment then swiftly turned and disappeared over the sea and into the night.

Breathless, Horton reached the cliff top where he thought Janice had gone over. Was she dead, smashed to pieces on the rocks below?

The rain suddenly stopped and the moon appeared from out of the scudding clouds. Buffeted by the icy wind, Horton peered over the cliff edge. Cupping his hands around his mouth he called her name and strained his ears listening for her cry. Nothing. She must have gone. But no, there was a faint call.

‘Janice!’ he roared again

Another feeble cry in response. It was coming from his right. He edged along the cliff cautiously; he wasn’t certain how solid the earth was beneath him, and he didn’t want to go over.

Then he saw her. She was lying on a narrow ledge with her hands grasping a small tree trunk whose roots had already lifted from the soil, her legs and feet were dangling perilously over the edge. Horton scoured the cliff face. Could he get down?

‘I’ll get help.’ But it was a long way back to the house.

She screamed as the trunk gave way a little. The earth crashed down below her and splashed into the sea. Shit, one more like that and she’d go. He had no time to lose. If he could just get down to the narrow ledge above her and grab hold of her.

It was stupid to try and he knew it. Every instinct was warning him against it, but when had he ever listened to them?

Gingerly, he edged his way down, his feet seeking a foothold. Every now and then he sent earth tumbling down to the rocks below. The sea seemed to be licking its lips in anticipation of receiving them. He could see flecks of white spray crashing on to the rocks. Slowly, he eased his way towards her, talking gently, urging her to hold on. He could see her pale terrified face. His breathing was laboured; his head was pounding, his body screaming with tension. At last he was on a ledge above her.

‘I can’t hold on much longer,’ she cried fearfully.

‘I’m nearly there.’

The tree trunk shifted again and she screamed. He could see that she had only one hand holding on to it now the other was swinging over the edge of the cliff, dangling like her body.

There was only one tree root left and when that went . . . Horton stretched out a hand but knew it was pointless. He was still too far away from her.

‘Hear my confession,’ she cried. ‘I overheard Seb talking to Rowley on the telephone saying that Tom was back in Portsmouth and wanting to confess that Warwick had never died, but a man called Croxton had. All those years and I thought Warwick dead. His supposed death killed our mother.
He
killed her. He made her suffer terribly. She died of a broken heart.’

The tree trunk gave again. The earth sprayed down and made her cough. Her face was etched with pain and hatred as she continued. ‘After I saw Warwick at the marina I got a copy of Seb’s mobile phone bills and called his numbers until on Monday I recognized Warwick’s voice. I told him Seb was going to tell you everything and that I would kill Seb in exchange for money and the chance to start a new life. I told him I was sick of being a drudge. Warwick agreed and told me where to come. I knew he would try to kill me, which is why I brought the poison with me.’