Eleven

'My husband was here all Thursday night,' Daphne Edney said crisply, in answer to Cantelli's brief introductory question. With reluctance she had shown them into a lounge that was so crowded with furniture, and so fussily decorated in swathes of pink and green, that it made Horton feel positively nauseous. The lamps were lit because of the dank, depressing day outside. It was still two and a half hours until sunset yet it felt like evening. Instead of making the room cosy, however, the dim lights only served to make it more cloying.

Horton took a seat on the sofa and glanced at the photographs scattered around the room. They were all of a young man at various stages of his development, including one in a cap and gown edged with white fur. The Edneys' son, Horton guessed, and clearly the apple of his parents' eye.

Daphne Edney perched on the edge of a chair to the right of Horton and smoothed her tight black skirt over her thighs, exposing her bony knees. She thrust her head up, set her shoulders back and glared at them. Her whole body seemed so controlled that Horton thought she might snap if she moved impulsively. She didn't offer them any refreshment. Horton wasn't surprised at this; she looked the sort of woman who wouldn't offer a glass of water to a man dying of thirst in the middle of the desert. She pursued her thin lips together in a small, sharp face. She had been a surprise; Horton had expected someone more homely.

He said, 'What time did your husband get in from school on Thursday?'

'Did he go out again during the evening?'

He wondered how much reliance he could put on the alibi she was giving her husband. If what she was saying was true then Edney couldn't have killed Langley. But Daphne Edney had made no protest over their visit, nor had she shown the slightest surprise when she had found them on her doorstep. Horton guessed that her husband had telephoned to warn her they were on their way.

Horton caught something in her glance before she looked away: was it defiance? No, there was an air of cockiness about her. He had a feeling that she was telling the literal truth, but leaving out a whole lot more. He wondered if she and her husband had agreed to answer the questions put to them truthfully, but would not volunteer information. So, she thought she was smarter than them.

He said, 'Did you go out?'

She couldn't disguise the flicker of surprise and irritation that crossed her face. Come on, let's play the truth game, he felt like saying.

She was lying. She smoothed her skirt, examined her nails briskly and looked up. Her bright blue eyes spat bullets at him. Her little ploy had backfired on her, and she'd had to resort to lying, but why? If she had been out, then how did she know what time her husband had arrived home? There was something going on here that he needed to know about.

He remained silent and held her stare, hoping to force her to continue. After a while she sniped, echoing her husband's words earlier, 'Why this interest in our movements? You should be out catching her killer.'

'How well did you know Ms Langley?'

'Surely you must have met her at school events!' Horton injected an incredulous tone into his voice.

'I don't go to any of them.'

'That's none of your business.'

Oh, isn't it? he thought. 'Were you disappointed when your husband didn't get the headship?'

Daphne Edney glowered at him. Horton sat back and crossed his legs, signalling to her that he could wait all afternoon and evening if necessary, until he got the truth.

With an irritable sigh, she said, 'That stupid board of governors, they didn't have the sense to know a good man when they saw one. All Jessica Langley had to do was flash her cleavage, show a bit of leg and they were putty in her hands. Well, now she's dead and it serves them right, just don't expect me to mourn for her.'

I wouldn't expect you to mourn for the Queen of England, thought Horton cynically. Without betraying his dislike for Daphne Edney, he said, 'How did your husband feel about not getting the job?'

'How do you expect him to feel? He was angry and disappointed. And now they've overlooked him, yet again.'

'When we spoke to your husband earlier today there seemed to be something worrying him. Do you know what that might be?'

She gave a sharp, ironic half laugh. 'I would think running that school, fending off journalists and answering questions from the police is enough to bother any man, wouldn't you, Inspector?'

She was cutting, this one. He felt some sympathy for Edney. His mobile rang and he went outside to answer it, standing under the porch to avoid the heavy rain, leaving Cantelli to continue the questioning.

It was Uckfield. 'Marsden's just told me that the fingerprints on that betting slip are Eric Morville's. He's got a conviction for assault on a man in a pub ten years ago. Morville was drunk. He served a community sentence, but that doesn't mean to say he gave Langley the note. Langley must have picked it up in the street, thinking it was litter, and put it in her pocket intending to throw it away when she found a bin.'

Uckfield had echoed Cantelli's words and of course he could be right. Though, somehow, Horton couldn't see Langley clearing the streets of litter. It could have blown inside the school gates, he supposed. Morville could easily have walked that way home from the betting shop in Commercial Road.

Uckfield continued. 'What is more important is that we've had a report of a woman seen going into the victim's apartment block at about seven forty p.m. on Thursday night, and a neighbour of Langley's has just confirmed that she saw the same woman leaving Langley's apartment a few minutes later – medium height, very slim, blonde hair, a sharp pointed face, about mid-fifties.'

Horton's pulse quickened. That's why she had lied about going out. 'Was Langley's car there?'

'The woman can't remember. She only saw Langley's visitor inside the building.'

So, they still don't know if Langley was there, but now he had someone who could tell them. Horton said, 'The description fits Tom Edney's wife, Daphne. We're with her now. She claims that she was at home all night and that her husband came in just before nine. When I saw Edney earlier he was a very worried man. It could be because of his wife's visit to the victim's house.' That didn't mean that Daphne Edney had killed Langley. Though she and her husband could have done so together. It was beginning to look possible. 'I'll bring her and her husband in for further questioning.'

Horton called Sergeant Trueman. 'Have they finished taking statements at the school?'

'About an hour ago.'

So why hadn't Edney returned home? Perhaps he had other school matters to attend to? But on a Saturday, the week before half term, and when he'd once again been overlooked for promotion, Horton couldn't really see why he would want to stay on. He gave instructions for a unit to bring him in, if they found him at the Sir Wilberforce Cutler.

As Horton entered the lounge, Daphne Edney rose. 'If there's nothing else—'

'Where were you Thursday night, Mrs Edney, between seven thirty and nine p.m?' Horton asked in a harsher tone.

'I've told you,' Daphne Edney replied, then paused. She obviously read something in Horton's expression because after a moment she capitulated. 'All right, if you must know, I went to see her.'

At last, perhaps now he'd start getting the truth. 'Why?'

She hesitated for a moment, looking as though she wanted to tell him to mind his own business, then she said, 'Jessica Langley was evil. Oh, everyone thought that the sun shone out of her backside. They thought she was so dynamic, so charming, and she could be when she wanted to be. She had the board of governors eating out of her hand. The press loved her too, but I'm telling you, Inspector Horton, underneath all that she was a bully. And worse, a bully with a smile and a soft voice. She'd wear Tom down with her incessant demands, cut him with her cruel, sarcastic tongue. She was a horrid woman.'

Her words stirred some vague memory in the back of Horton's mind. Maybe he was simply reminded of what Cantelli had said after his and Charlotte's visit to the school. Charlotte had thought Langley false.

Daphne Edney continued. 'She made Tom's life a misery. The bitch, I could have kill...'

'And did you kill her?' Horton asked softly.

Her eyes blazed defiantly. 'Of course not, but I'm glad someone did.'

The tone of her voice would peel the varnish off wood. He saw a woman who would be quite capable of murder, but of grabbing Langley with both arms, shaking her and then punching her? No. Even from what he'd seen of Jessica Langley he thought she would have got the better of Daphne Edney in any fight. Langley had been taller, heavier built and had looked tougher.

'Your husband perhaps?'

She gave a half laugh. 'Tom is incapable of murder. He's too weak; that's half his trouble. He wouldn't stand up to that woman. She was making him ill. He was doing all the work and she was taking all the glory. Then she'd delight in putting him down in front of the staff and governors.'

Even more reason then for Edney to have killed her. He'd simply come to the end of his tether. Perhaps he had physically assaulted Langley and then Daphne Edney had suffocated her. Horton asked, 'What happened when you saw her?'

'The bitch laughed in my face and told me that if Tom had a problem dealing with her then he should tell her himself and not let his wife do his dirty work for him. I told her I would complain to the local education authority and the board of governors. She said go ahead. I left.'

'Just like that?' Horton asked incredulously. That didn't sound like the actions of an angry woman.

'Yes. I could see there was no point reasoning with her.'

She didn't look as if she was lying, but then maybe she was an accomplished actress. 'What time did you get home?'

She shrugged. 'About eight thirty.'

'And was your husband at home?'

'I've already told you Tom got in just before nine.'

Dr Clayton said Langley had been killed between nine and eleven p.m., so Edney couldn't have done it, if he was at home. But was Daphne Edney lying? The Edneys could have concocted the times of their movements between them. Horton would check with the community board to see if Edney really was there.

'Do you own a boat?' he asked sharply, repeating the question he'd asked her husband. He might get a different answer. He didn't.

She looked at him as if he was mad. 'Of course we don't.'

She had to be telling the truth because they could easily check. Perhaps, though, the Edneys knew someone who did own one.

Horton said, 'I'd like you to come to the station with us where you can make your statement.'

'You're arresting me?' Daphne Edney cried.

'We would like to have the events of Thursday night quite clear in our minds.'

'Then you'd better ask him what he was doing at her flat.'

Horton stared at her. 'Who?'

'That architect, Leo Ranson.'

Horton hadn't expected that! He recalled the supercilious architect and the fact that he'd had a meeting with Langley on the afternoon she died. So why then would he need to visit her apartment in the evening? Perhaps there was something more personal to their relationship than that of business associates.

'How do you know Leo Ranson was there?' he asked, watching Daphne Edney closely. Maybe she was just trying to take the focus off herself and her husband.

'I saw him go into the building. He was inside her flat when I was talking to her. It's why she wouldn't let me in. That's who you should be arresting, Inspector. Leo Ranson's her killer, and if you ask me he deserves a medal for it.'

Cantelli coughed, maybe he was choking on his throat lozenge.

Horton wanted to believe her, but he said, 'How do you know it was Ms Langley he was visiting? He could have been calling on someone else.'

'Because they're having an affair,' she said spitefully and triumphantly. 'You didn't know?' He thought he hadn't shown any surprise, but maybe he had. Daphne Edney was sharp enough to cut herself. She was pulling on her coat.

'Who told you that?'

'It's obvious,' she dismissed airily.

Horton could see that she was stalling. He wouldn't mind betting that Tom Edney had discovered it and told her.

'For someone who claims not to have had much contact with Ms Langley you seem to know a great deal about her private life.'

'I made it my business to know.'

'You intended to threaten her with exposure over her affair if she didn't leave your husband alone.' He said it as a statement.

She had locked the front door and climbed into the car before she answered. 'I was going to tell the newspapers. I would have made them see that little Miss Perfect wasn't so damn perfect after all. Tom doesn't know I went to see her and I'd rather you didn't tell him.'

'I don't think we've got any choice. We must,' Horton said, winning a scowl from her.

They put Daphne Edney in an interview room and checked into the incident suite. The unit that had gone for Tom Edney reported that he wasn't at school. The caretaker hadn't seen Edney leave and none of the officers taking the statements recalled seeing him either. So where had he gone?

'Perhaps he went for a walk to think things through,' suggested Cantelli.

Horton had another idea. First though, he asked Cantelli to call the community board and check Edney's movements for Thursday night. No one had seen hide or hair of him, and there had been no meeting.

'Why lie about something that is so easy to check out?' asked Cantelli with a puzzled expression.

Horton had wondered that too. 'He was in a bit of a state when I saw him. I think it was the first thing that came into his head. And if he wasn't there, or at home, then where was he? Though I've got a feeling I know.' And he told Cantelli of Dr Woodford's claim that Langley had thought her deputy head and secretary were having an affair. 'And that's where he could be now.'

'And who can blame him?' Cantelli muttered. 'Can't be much fun living with Mrs Spiteful.'

No, and if Edney was in the habit of seeking comfort from Janet Downton then he had chosen another dominant female whose manner was just as unforgiving as his wife's. Edney must be a glutton for punishment.

Horton addressed Sergeant Trueman. 'Where does Janet Downton say she was the night of Langley's murder?'

Trueman took a moment to look up her statement. 'At home watching television.'

'So she claims. There's no Mr Downton. She's divorced.'

Horton had much less trouble envisaging the large, overbearing secretary grabbing Langley and punching her, than he had with Daphne Edney in that role. 'Send a unit round to her house and if Edney's there get them to bring him in along with Janet Downton.'

'And if he's not do you still want Mrs Downton brought in?'

'No. Cantelli and I will make a house call. Meanwhile I'll see what Mrs Spiteful has to say about her husband's fictitious alibi. Cantelli, check with PC Seaton to see if Leo Ranson owns a boat.'

Daphne Edney didn't seem surprised when Horton told her that her husband had lied to them about his whereabouts. 'He'd been drinking,' she said. 'I could smell it on his breath, despite the fact that he'd tried to disguise it with mints.'

'Tom isn't a drinker.'

Leaning forward and fixing his eyes on her, Horton said, 'But he was drinking that night, why? Did he need Dutch courage for some reason? Perhaps to kill his head teacher.'

Daphne Edney scoffed. 'Don't be ridiculous.'

Clearly she thought her husband incapable of such an act because there wasn't even a shadow of doubt in her hard blue eyes.

He said, 'Have you any idea where your husband had been?'

Horton studied her for a moment and was convinced it was the truth. So she didn't suspect or know about the affair. 'You didn't ask him?'

'How did he seem?' She gave an exasperated sigh and raised her eyebrows pointedly. 'Really, is all this necessary? He was the same as always except he'd had a drink. Maybe that bitch had given him a hard time at school.'

'He didn't confide in you?'

'Of course not.' She said it vehemently and stared at Horton as though he'd suggested some kind of deviant sexual practice. The Edneys clearly had a marriage where confidences were not shared, yet if that were the case how could she have known how Langley was treating her husband? Maybe she had just read between the lines. Perhaps someone had told her. Or maybe she just hated Jessica Langley because she had stolen the job that should have been her husband's and robbed her of the cache of being a head teacher's wife and the increased salary to go with it.

Daphne Edney resolutely stuck to her story that her husband had arrived home just before nine p.m. and had not gone out again that night. As Horton returned to the incident room he thought he wasn't yet ready to discount the deputy head teacher or his wife or mistress from his list of suspects.

Horton crossed to Trueman.

'There's no answer at Mrs Downton's house. A neighbour says she saw her leaving, with a suitcase, at two thirty this afternoon. Apparently she's gone to stay with her sister in Devon for the half-term holiday.'

'And no sign of Tom Edney?'

Horton released Daphne Edney after extracting from her a promise that she, or her husband, call them the moment he returned home.

Back in the incident room, a weary-looking Cantelli called him over.

'We've just got a list of boat owners through from Chichester Marina. Leo Ranson owns an Island Packet, if that means any thing to you.'

It did indeed. Island Packets were large and very expensive yachts. And an Island Packet could easily have transported Langley's body to the mulberry, after which Ranson could have returned to Chichester Marina. This was interesting. If Daphne Edney was telling the truth about her husband's whereabouts on the night that Langley was killed then could their killer be Leo Ranson?

Owning a boat though didn't automatically make it so, but put that together with the fact that Daphne Edney claimed to have seen Ranson go into Langley's apartment, and that Sparkes Yacht Harbour, where Langley's car had been found, was nearer to Chichester Marina than the Town Camber and it looked far more appealing. Perhaps Ranson had already moored his yacht at Sparkes Yacht Harbour and after Daphne Edney had disturbed the lovers they decided to drive there for greater privacy.

'Seaton, check if Ranson's boat was moored at Sparkes Yacht Harbour or the Town Camber on the Thursday Jessica Langley was killed.'

Somerfield was heading for him.

'Elaine Tolley has confessed to a brief affair with Eric Morville,' she said triumphantly. 'I got the impression it wasn't a very pleasant experience and one she would rather forget, but for the fact that he comes into the betting shop daily.'

'What do you mean by unpleasant?' Horton fetched a beaker of water and crossed to stare at Morville's name scrawled on the crime board.

'She wouldn't say, but reading between the lines, my guess is that Morville liked it rough. A bit too rough for Elaine Tolley. She didn't think the note was for her. In fact, she didn't know anything about it until you showed up with it yesterday morning. She was scared that her husband might find out about Morville. Apart from that she knows next to nothing about Eric Morville except that he did have a long-term relationship with someone some years ago. She doesn't know who, or why it broke up. She says she had a fling with him in a moment of madness, though he could be charming.'

'Not the Morville I've met,' muttered Horton, turning to Cantelli who looked fit to drop. Horton guessed he didn't look in too great a shape himself after a sleepless night. 'Get yourself off home, Barney. You look all in.'

'What about the big man?' Cantelli jerked his head at Uckfield's office.

Horton swivelled to gaze in Uckfield's direction. He was about to say, 'Sod the big man,' when Uckfield replaced his telephone and rose, his expression grave. Horton locked eyes with him and knew immediately it was bad news. 'On second thoughts, if you can stand up a bit longer, I think you'd better hang on.'

Uckfield was pulling on his overcoat. He threw open his door and strode across the incident room. It fell silent and all eyes turned on him. 'We've got another body,' he announced grimly.

Horton's heart skipped a beat. 'Where?'

'Public toilets near the D-Day museum.'

Horton's stomach churned. Was the location and its connection with the mulberry a coincidence? Somehow his instinct told him not.

He threw Cantelli a glance and read in his expression what he was feeling in the pit of his stomach, and that was that they might just have found the deputy head teacher of the Sir Wilberforce Cutler School.