Twenty-Two

The door opened before he got there, and a tallish man in his late fifties, with short cropped grey hair, was standing on the threshold. He was expensively dressed in fawn casual trousers and a navy blue jumper. His eyes were a vivid green in a sharp-featured face that the neatly trimmed grey beard did little to disguise but Horton recognized him instantly. Here was the man on the quayside.

  'Inspector Horton, come in.'

  Horton wasn't surprised that he knew him. After all he had tried to kill him twice. He stepped inside feeling his body tense; it took an effort to keep his expression neutral. He felt a deep loathing and searing hatred for this man who had confined him to years of emptiness.

  He followed Rowthorpe through an airy and spacious hall and into a cream and beige room on the left. It took a while for Horton to locate Janice Hassingham, because the room was immense, but he locked eyes on her as she sat on one of the three brown leather sofas that straddled a large fireplace. Behind her was a wall of glass that gave on to the grounds and, Horton guessed, would sport a spectacular view of the sea only it was too dark to make it out. The rain was lashing against the windows. There was no sign of Selina Gilmore.

  Rowthorpe crossed the beech wood floor to the sofa where Janice was sitting and picked up a tumbler of amber liquid. Horton thought that he'd need a loudhailer to make conversation in a room this size as he followed him, and a compass to find your way around the house. He'd thought Sebastian Gilmore's house was a palace, but it was a mere shed compared to this. These men had made a mint out of their smuggling, and lives had been sacrificed because of their greed. Horton was determined to see that Croxton paid for it. He knew he too would suffer, because the truth about his mother would emerge, but maybe it was time for it all to come out, though he didn't know how Catherine would react to that. Fear gripped his heart at the thought that she might use it to prevent him from ever seeing Emma.

  He stared down at Janice Hassingham and started violently. She was smiling and it transformed her face. She was no longer the dull, sad woman he and Cantelli had seen that morning in her office; years had sloughed off her and with it the heavy coarseness of her features. Her eyes were a vivid green and her usual pallid complexion was flushed with exhilaration. The breath suddenly caught in Horton's throat. From the first time he'd set eyes on her at Horsea Marina he had known there was something familiar about her, but it had taken this transformation for him to understand why he'd had that feeling. Now he knew what had triggered the memory of the man on the Town Camber quayside. He also knew the true identity of the man standing beside her.

  'You're Warwick Hassingham,' he said, staring at Croxton, whilst his brain raced to assimilate this latest revelation and put it in place with everything else he had learned.

  'I haven't used that name for years. Drink, Inspector, or should I say, Andy? After all we're old friends.'

  That last comment brought Horton up sharply. It made him sick with fury. Here was his mother's boyfriend and the man who had killed her. He wanted to hurl himself at Warwick Hassingham and smash his face to a pulp. It took every ounce of his willpower not to do so and only the fact that he could see that was exactly what Hassingham wanted restrained Horton. They weren't alone in this house. Hassingham had protection. He spun round to see a man built like a brick outhouse, with shoulders bigger than DCI Dennings, standing in the doorway.

  'My bodyguard, Trevor,' Warwick explained unnecessarily. Horton couldn't think of a more fitting job for eighteen stone of muscle. And he didn't fancy his chances against the shaven-headed muscle man. He turned his gaze back to Janice, who was looking smug; he'd get no help there.

  'How long have you known that your brother was alive?' he addressed her sharply.

  'Since I overheard Sebastian talking to Rowland on the telephone last Tuesday.'

  'And that was why you were at the marina on Wednesday night? You went to see Tom.'

  'Yes, I didn't know where he was until Rowley told me, but by then I was too late. He was already dead.'

  'And how do you feel about your brother killing the only man you ever loved?' Horton said, watching her closely. Her eyes flicked to Warwick's.

  'Sebastian killed Tom and that's why I had to kill him.'

  'You locked him in the freezer.' So it was Janice.

  'Yes.'

  Then he recalled Sebastian's alibi. 'But Sebastian was at Tri Fare the night Brundall was killed.'

  'The sales director lied. Seb asked him to. Selina went to Tri Fare alone. She lied to you too.'

  Could Horton believe her? Her face was expressionless. Warwick was looking so sure of himself. Horton knew then that Warwick had killed Brundall and had spun his sister some claptrap about it being Sebastian. He'd got Janice to kill Sebastian for him. The evil bastard.

  'Sit down,' Warwick commanded.

  An arm shot out and Horton felt as though his shoulder had been trapped in a vice. He couldn't prevent a cry of agony escaping, as Muscles pushed him on to the sofa. Releasing him after a sign from Warwick, Horton rubbed his shoulder. Fuming with anger and smarting with pain, he said, 'Did you kill my mother?'

  'Jennifer Horton's little boy a copper! It was a bit of a shock when Seb told me. It wasn't until Rowley returned to Portsmouth and made the connection that Seb realized who you were. I never thought you'd end up on the right side of the law. Just shows how wrong you can be about kids. It scared poor little Rowley almost shitless. Every day he lived in fear that you'd come knocking on his door to arrest him. He kept a very close eye on you.'

  'You mean the newspapers.'

  'You saw them?' Warwick glanced at his watch.

  He knows I might have called for help and he wonders how long he's got. Horton wished now that he had done so, instead of telling Trueman to wait. His heart was thumping against his ribcage.

  Warwick said, 'I managed to get rid of them after that woman vicar left for the church. I didn't expect the Church to put in a replacement so quickly and neither did Seb.'

  'You killed Anne Schofield just because she'd seen those newspaper articles!' Horton cried, anger welling up in him.

  'We couldn't take the risk. She said you'd already seen them.'

  'So you frightened the poor woman into calling me, knowing that if she mentioned my mother I'd come running, and you thought you'd kill us both at the same time.'

  'Pity you refused to die then, and on your boat. Although I thought I'd succeeded until Seb told me you'd been interviewing my sister. Still, third time lucky.'

  Horton tried to ignore the threat, but he shuddered inside at the thought of the kind of end Hassingham had in store for him. It would probably be a house fire, if Hassingham ran true to form. And would Janice also be a victim? Horton guessed so, though Janice looked oblivious to the fact. Had Uckfield got enough information on James Rowthorpe and this house to connect it with the murders and alert the island's police? Horton doubted it and he was probably still waiting for that phone call from Horton, which unless he did something to get out of this, would never come.

  He said, whilst trying to think of a diversion to distract Muscles' attention from him, 'Which one of you killed David Lynmor, the skeleton in Rowland's air-raid shelter?' He'd scored a point by the look of surprise on Warwick's face. Only it was a hollow victory; Horton doubted he'd be allowed to live long enough to celebrate.

  'Lynmor was a pest. He tracked Rowley to Wales and then to Portsmouth.'

  'And then he found Brundall in Guernsey and grabbed a local photographer to gatecrash Newton's party. We haven't been as slow or dim as you think,' Horton sneered, 'and even if you kill me, which I take it you intend to do, then there'll be others after you.'

  'I doubt that. I disappeared once, I can do it again.'

  'It might not be so easy next time,' Horton threatened, but could see his words held no terror for Warwick Hassingham. This man probably had various escape routes and identities already mapped out. 'Who killed Lynmor and Jacobs?'

  'I killed Jacobs and Sebastian dealt with Lynmor. He lured him to Rowley's house and stuffed his body in the air-raid shelter. He knew that Rowley would never go in there and find it. Rowley was cracking under the pressure. He was our weakest link. When he entered the church Seb wondered if he'd confess but he managed to persuade Rowley that the church would be more grateful for his money than his confession, and besides if he confessed that he was party to a million-pound diamond raid and a murder, then they wouldn't take him and Rowley couldn't cope with that, not after his wife and kid had died. It meant more to him than anything, and so he kept quiet. But Seb and I always kept an eye on him.'

  And Rowland, a man of the church, had lived with that past all those years. How could he have been such a hypocrite?

  'I see you disapprove,' Warwick continued. 'Rowley thought God had punished him by taking Teresa and Claire from him. Rowley tried to atone for his sins for the rest of his life, by living like a pauper and devoting himself to God and his parishioners.'

  'Until Brundall showed up on Tuesday wanting to confess,' Horton snapped, but his mind had picked up on something Warwick Hassingham had said. The four fishermen had killed Croxton, or whatever his real name was, and had claimed it was Warwick's body. Why? He'd been right about the diamonds but it wasn't smuggling. Warwick had said 'a diamond raid', which meant a robbery.

  He had to get Warwick to tell him about it, not that it would do him much good if he was dead, but he was still alive and he would fight with all the strength and guile he had to keep it that way.

  Warwick crossed the room and poured himself another drink. 'Unfortunately, Brundall had developed a conscience as well as cancer.'

  'And that was when Sebastian came scurrying across to Cowes to meet up with you so that you could plan his death.'

  'I told him to loosen the gas cooker pipe on his return and then later that evening throw a lighted match on to Brundall's boat.'

  Horton dashed a glance at Janice. Her hands were in her lap and her body erect as she sat on the edge of the sofa. Her eyes followed her brother. Yet, Horton was curious, her expression had changed; she was no longer smiling and there was something sharp and dangerous behind her eyes.

  Then Horton saw quite clearly what had happened. 'You've got that wrong,' he said with an edge of steel to his voice. 'You came back with Sebastian on his boat on Wednesday morning, only no one saw you. You stayed below whilst you went through the lock. Sebastian left for his office and then Tri Fare as he told us. You went to meet Tom Brundall. You loosened the gas cooker piper and then left, watching Nigel Sherbourne arrive. You guessed what Brundall was going to do, or maybe he told you. Here was a man who was dying; perhaps he didn't care if you killed him. Maybe he wanted you to kill him and by doing so we start an investigation and the truth comes out. That was Brundall's confession, only he couldn't have envisaged you'd kill Sherbourne.'

  Horton could see that Hassingham didn't like this very much. Horton was very close to the truth. He risked another glance at Janice; she was so tense that Horton thought she might snap in half.

  He paused. 'Later that evening you threw the match on to the boat and left Horsea Marina to come back here, but not on Sebastian's boat because it didn't leave the marina. How did you get here, and how did you get to Guernsey and back? Do you keep a boat in Cowes Marina or Yarmouth?'

  Warwick said, 'Are you sure you don't want a drink, Andy?'

  Horton flinched at the use of his name. His mind spun down the years when he'd heard this man speak to him. He felt physically sick. Warwick must have seen the torment in his eyes.

  'You always were a bright kid, Andy. Bit of a pain in the arse sometimes, but I could always get rid of you with money to buy an ice cream or go to the pictures, whilst Jennifer and I . . .'

  Horton leapt up and was halfway across the room before Muscles fell on him like a starving tiger and nearly ripped his arms from their sockets.

  Warwick waited a moment, watching Horton's grimace of pain, before he said, 'Let him go.'

  Horton collapsed on the floor trying to ease the pain in his arms and shoulders without betraying how much it hurt. His eyes flicked to Janice and what he saw shocked him. Quickly he looked away, not wishing to draw Hassingham's attention to his sister's expression of loathing. No, it was more than that. It was a fury that exceeded even his. Horton felt hope. But what chance would he and a middle-aged woman stand against Muscles and Warwick Hassingham? Warwick was older than Horton and not nearly as fit. Horton knew he'd get the better of him, but he doubted he'd stand a chance against the Jolly Green Giant.

  Janice rose. 'I'm hungry. I'll make some sandwiches.'

  'We haven't got much time. We'll be leaving in five minutes.'

  'We can take some with us.'

  As she left the room, Warwick said, 'It'll give the sad bitch something to do.'

  'What are you going to do with her?'

  'What do you think?'

  'She's your sister, for God's sake.'

  Warwick shrugged and Horton saw the evil that had driven this man to kill, cheat and lie. He shuddered to think what his mother had suffered at his hands, and prayed her death had been swift. He silently vowed that before he died he would make Warwick Hassingham pay in some way for what he had done.

  Steeling himself to control his feelings, he said, 'So you all got rich on the proceeds of this diamond raid.'

  'Yes. And we wouldn't have done if it hadn't been for Jennifer. I see that shocks you. Jennifer was very beautiful; she met Peter Croxton in the casino. He fell for her in a big way and couldn't resist a bit of pillow talk.'

  'Which you encouraged,' Horton said with bitterness. Warwick wouldn't have let his mother live with that knowledge.

  'He told her he was about to undertake the biggest diamond robbery in history and that he would buy her all the diamonds she wanted.'

  'And she told you.' Horton drew himself up. He heard the implications of Warwick's words about his mother's sexual habits. Warwick Hassingham had been nothing more than a bloody pimp, using his mother's infatuation of him to extract valuable information from Croxton.

  'Croxton was a con artist and a very good one. He'd already set up the false identity of James Rowthorpe. I simply took it over when he died. We were very alike and that's what gave me the idea in the first place, though it was Jennifer who first pointed out the likeness to me.'

  Horton felt a pang of sympathy for his mother and he was shocked by the emotion. It was as if the picture of her he'd been looking at for years had suddenly and sharply come into focus. And it wasn't how he had imagined it. For once he put himself in her shoes and imagined her as a victim and not his cruel, heartless mother.

  He said, 'So Croxton pulled off a big jewellery heist.'

  'Hatton Garden. He got away with millions,' Warwick said boastfully, as though it had been his robbery. Horton saw that the temptation to tell him was too big to resist.

  Warwick topped up his drink. 'He was an importer and exporter of diamonds so he knew his way around. He wasn't called Croxton there. He used a dual identity. Everyone at Hatton Garden knew him as Philip Crane. Then on the fifteenth of August 1977 he simply entered the vaults and emptied them, got away with diamonds, jewellery and cash worth over £1.5 million. No one noticed they'd gone until Monday morning; by then it was too late. Most of the people whose safety deposit boxes were stolen never came forward because they didn't want anyone to know what they had in them. They were either the proceeds of crime or tax evasion.'

  It was clever and simple.

  'Croxton drove down from London that night,' Warwick said. 'He'd hired a motorboat and arranged for Jennifer to meet him, only she didn't turn up. We did.'

  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 downwards. 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.'

  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 cannons 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.