could have pushed his brother over the edge of the quay on an incoming tide. The currents are very strong here.’ He stared across the narrow harbour towards the shores of the town of Gosport opposite.
‘Wouldn’t someone have seen that?’
‘Not in the dark. Or perhaps they did but they don’t want to get involved.’
‘But why would Ashley Felton want to do that?’ Cantelli eyed him incredulously.
‘To preserve the family name or out of anger, shame . . .’
‘Are you serious?’
‘No.’ Horton gave a brief smile as the Wightlink ferry glided slowly out of the harbour. He turned back to the car.
‘Do you want me at your meeting with Rookley tonight?’ asked Cantelli, swinging the car round and heading back to the station.
‘Thanks, but no. I can handle him, if he turns up, and I’m not banking on it.’ But what he did hope was that Walters would have unearthed some information on Luke Felton that could help them find him, and quickly, or identify him as the body in the harbour.
Walters greeted them in CID with the news that the prison had emailed a list of Felton’s prison listeners, volunteers who were there to help Luke and other inmates through their sentence.
‘There were three,’ Walters said,‘and I’ve spoken to each of them on the phone. They claim they haven’t seen or spoken to Luke. They all live on the Isle of Wight where Felton served his sentence.’
Horton thought they could be lying, and Luke could be hitched up with one of them. He’d ask the local police to call on them to make sure. He said, ‘What did they tell you about Luke?’
‘Said he was reserved and not that interested in seeing them. The last one visited him over a year ago. I’m still waiting for his medical notes to come through.’
‘Chase them up. And find out who else was released from prison around the same time as Felton and if he formed special relationships with any inmates. He might be hiding out with an ex-con.’
Horton turned but Walters hailed him. ‘The case notes on the Natalie Raymonds murder have been sent over.’ He tapped the top of a box file on his desk with a podgy finger.
‘Is that it?’
‘It’s all they’ve sent.’
Horton picked up the box and headed for his office, where he cleared a space among the paper on his desk. He checked his voice mail. Phil Taylor had left a message to say he was emailing over the photographs of the body in the harbour and would follow it up with hard copies and the video shortly. Horton quickly ran through his emails, most of which seemed to be from Bliss asking him to file some inconsequential report or other. Ignoring these he found the photographs Taylor had mentioned. The sight of the body almost made the couple of mouthfuls of his burger come back up, but there was nothing more they could tell him that he didn’t already know. Which was precious little.
He turned his attention to the Natalie Raymonds file. He doubted it would throw any light on where Felton might be but he didn’t like working in the dark. He read that Detective Superintendent Duncan Chawley had been in charge of the investigation. Horton hadn’t really known him because Chawley had been stationed at Havant CID for most of his career. On the occasions Horton had met him he recalled a clever, confident man with a dry wit and a reputation for getting results. Bliss would have liked him. Maybe she’d even worked with him at Havant before transferring to Portsmouth on her promotion to DCI, although calculating Chawley’s age Horton doubted it. Chawley had been in his mid-fifties at the time of the Luke Felton case.
Horton read that Natalie Raymonds had been born Natalie Mather in 1970. She had been twenty-seven when she was killed on Friday 19 September 1997 and from her photograph she’d been a stunner: a brown-eyed brunette with shoulder-length hair and a wide smile that looked as though she had loved life. She had married Julian Raymonds in October 1996.
He dug
‘Wouldn’t someone have seen that?’
‘Not in the dark. Or perhaps they did but they don’t want to get involved.’
‘But why would Ashley Felton want to do that?’ Cantelli eyed him incredulously.
‘To preserve the family name or out of anger, shame . . .’
‘Are you serious?’
‘No.’ Horton gave a brief smile as the Wightlink ferry glided slowly out of the harbour. He turned back to the car.
‘Do you want me at your meeting with Rookley tonight?’ asked Cantelli, swinging the car round and heading back to the station.
‘Thanks, but no. I can handle him, if he turns up, and I’m not banking on it.’ But what he did hope was that Walters would have unearthed some information on Luke Felton that could help them find him, and quickly, or identify him as the body in the harbour.
Walters greeted them in CID with the news that the prison had emailed a list of Felton’s prison listeners, volunteers who were there to help Luke and other inmates through their sentence.
‘There were three,’ Walters said,‘and I’ve spoken to each of them on the phone. They claim they haven’t seen or spoken to Luke. They all live on the Isle of Wight where Felton served his sentence.’
Horton thought they could be lying, and Luke could be hitched up with one of them. He’d ask the local police to call on them to make sure. He said, ‘What did they tell you about Luke?’
‘Said he was reserved and not that interested in seeing them. The last one visited him over a year ago. I’m still waiting for his medical notes to come through.’
‘Chase them up. And find out who else was released from prison around the same time as Felton and if he formed special relationships with any inmates. He might be hiding out with an ex-con.’
Horton turned but Walters hailed him. ‘The case notes on the Natalie Raymonds murder have been sent over.’ He tapped the top of a box file on his desk with a podgy finger.
‘Is that it?’
‘It’s all they’ve sent.’
Horton picked up the box and headed for his office, where he cleared a space among the paper on his desk. He checked his voice mail. Phil Taylor had left a message to say he was emailing over the photographs of the body in the harbour and would follow it up with hard copies and the video shortly. Horton quickly ran through his emails, most of which seemed to be from Bliss asking him to file some inconsequential report or other. Ignoring these he found the photographs Taylor had mentioned. The sight of the body almost made the couple of mouthfuls of his burger come back up, but there was nothing more they could tell him that he didn’t already know. Which was precious little.
He turned his attention to the Natalie Raymonds file. He doubted it would throw any light on where Felton might be but he didn’t like working in the dark. He read that Detective Superintendent Duncan Chawley had been in charge of the investigation. Horton hadn’t really known him because Chawley had been stationed at Havant CID for most of his career. On the occasions Horton had met him he recalled a clever, confident man with a dry wit and a reputation for getting results. Bliss would have liked him. Maybe she’d even worked with him at Havant before transferring to Portsmouth on her promotion to DCI, although calculating Chawley’s age Horton doubted it. Chawley had been in his mid-fifties at the time of the Luke Felton case.
Horton read that Natalie Raymonds had been born Natalie Mather in 1970. She had been twenty-seven when she was killed on Friday 19 September 1997 and from her photograph she’d been a stunner: a brown-eyed brunette with shoulder-length hair and a wide smile that looked as though she had loved life. She had married Julian Raymonds in October 1996.
He dug
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