Authors: Pauline Rowson
Her pale face was contorted with the pain of holding on.
‘I’ll get closer,’ Horton cried urgently.
‘No. Don’t risk your life. I didn’t intend you to come here.
I wanted them to pay for what they did to Mum. I’ve seen justice done. I’ll be with her now.’
The trunk snapped like the sound of a hundred canons roaring in his ears. Janice screamed. Horton reached out. It was useless. He snatched his head away not wanting to see her body bounce against the cliff and smash on to the rocks below. His heart ached, his head throbbed and his ears rang with Janice Hassingham’s last words and the sound of her screams long after they died.
Twenty-Three
He wasn’t sure how long he lay on the narrow ledge,feeling numb. Maybe he would have stayed there for ever if it hadn’t been for the sound of a helicopter and a powerful white light beaming out of the sky like something out of
Close
Encounters
.
Someone was calling his name and the beam of light fell on him. Minutes later he found himself at the top of the cliff, thanking his rescuers. There seemed to be an awful lot of people and a great deal of activity, including the setting down of the police helicopter. A bulky figure in a big camel overcoat climbed out.
‘Strange time of night to go rock climbing, Inspector,’
Uckfield yelled, drawing level with him. ‘What happened?
Who’s the man in the field?’
‘Warwick Hassingham.’ He saw Uckfield’s surprise. As they fell into step back to the house, Horton explained what had happened, leaving out all reference to his mother. Those who had known about Jennifer’s part in the robbery and the marine incident were dead; everyone that was except Trevor, and how much did he know? More than the confession he’d heard tonight from Warwick?
Three police cars were parked outside the house and Horton watched the SOCO van pull into the driveway. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. The investigation into the deaths of Brundall, the Gilmores, Sherbourne and Anne Schofield was over, but the one into Warwick Hassingham and his past was only just beginning. And there was that missing persons file on his mother, which miraculously still nestled in his pocket against his chest.
He said, ‘Janice Hassingham poisoned her brother and Rowland Gilmore?’
‘Dr Clayton called me after she spoke to you,’ Uckfield interrupted. ‘She said that the poisonous parts of a pufferfish– the liver, ovaries and roe – had probably been put in a sandwich.’ Horton recalled the fish tank in Sebastian Gilmore’s office and Cantelli saying something about some funny-looking buggers in it. ‘Apparently this poison is almost impossible to detect and paralysis can set in within ten minutes or can be delayed for up to four hours; after that death within one to two hours.’
Did that mean that Hassingham was still alive, wondered Horton, seeing the coastguard helicopter sweep overhead. It was probably transporting Hassingham to the hospital. If he were alive, then it wouldn’t be for long.
‘Gilmore’s paralysis took longer to take effect than Warwick’s,’ Horton said. ‘I watched Warwick eat the sandwiches she made. Within fifteen minutes he couldn’t speak.’
Janice had saved his life.
Uckfield said, ‘Next time you fancy going off like Indiana Jones, bloody well let me know.’
‘Worried the helicopter’s blown your budget for the month,’
Horton said sarcastically.
‘Yes, and you can damn well pay for it.’
Horton managed a smile.
Uckfield said, ‘We found Selina Gilmore. She’s staying with a friend. Do you think she knows about the diamond smuggling?’
‘I wouldn’t mind betting so.’
‘I’ll bring her in for questioning. Do you want to come back with us on the chopper?’
‘No. I’ll go by boat. I’ve got the Harley.’
‘Are you fit enough to ride it?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘Then you’re fit enough to come into work in the morning and make out your report.’
‘No. Not tomorrow.’ He saw Uckfield eye him curiously.
There would be no spending the day with Emma, not now, but there would be in the future and soon. He was determined.
And now that the threat to his life was lifted there was no reason for Catherine to prevent him.
‘I’m going sailing,’ Horton said firmly. He needed to get the stench of Warwick Hassingham out of his nostrils, and the taste of death from his mouth. And battling with the elements would totally occupy his mind on the day he should have been spending with Emma. ‘I’ll do it Christmas Day.’
Uckfield looked about to say something then changed his mind. Horton watched him stride back towards the house. He turned and made his way to the Harley. His head was reeling with thoughts, only this time they weren’t of Emma but of his mother. Why did she disappear on her birthday? Did she leave him to go with a lover? Did she simply not want the responsibility of bringing up a child? Mrs Cobden, his ex neighbour, had said that Jennifer was happy. That was hardly the mood of a mother walking out on her child. Would he go in search of her?
He pulled on his helmet. This case had lifted the lid on his past and had let fly all kinds of thoughts, emotions and memories. And painful as these were he knew there was only one answer to that question. He throttled back the bike and headed for the ferry and home.