Four

'I hope you haven't got me all the way over here for some silly sod of a walker who got too near the cliff edge and fell,' Detective Superintendent Uckfield grunted uncharitably as he clumsily clambered off the police RIB. Ripley had taken it back to Portsmouth while Elkins, looking mightily relieved that he hadn't made the trek to Beachwood House, had waited on the shore with Horton. During that time Horton had called Sergeant Norris, told him what he'd discovered and that the head of the Major Crime Team was on his way over. He asked Norris to find out who Cedric Halliwell's executor was. Uckfield had brought with him DC Jake Marsden from his team, and three scene-of-crime officers, including the photographer, Jim Clarke.

'Not unless he managed to bury himself,' Horton replied, because after recovering from his initial shock, he had seen clear signs that the corpse hadn't been the victim of a landslip but a murder. 'If he'd fallen, he'd have been at the bottom of the cliff not half way down it. And, judging by what I saw of the skull, he didn't get his injuries from hitting his head on a rock.'

'You could be wrong.'

'I could be, but a man found dead in this cabin five days ago, the owner of the house at the top of the cliff dead since February, and now a third –'

'A hat trick you'd say.'

'Suspicious is the word I'd use. It certainly needs looking into.'

'You're expecting me to climb up there?' Uckfield said horrified, squinting up at the cliffs.

'But you're not a detective superintendent.'

And never likely to be, thought Horton. He didn't want promotion, not anymore, maybe not even before. But Catherine had been keen to see him get on, so he'd obliged. Now it didn't matter what Catherine wanted. And neither am I overweight, Horton thought, eyeing Uckfield's corpulent figure which made even DC Walters and the sturdy Sergeant Elkins look slender. Horton said, 'From what I could see the body looks intact, but I didn't hang around to clear all the earth away for fear there might be another landslip.'

'Inspector Horton is right,' DC Marsden piped up. 'This whole area is unstable.'

'That's a great comfort,' Uckfield said sarcastically, setting out for the cabin, while Ripley swung the RIB back out into the bay. He was to collect the firefighters from nearby Shanklin. They, with their rescue equipment, would transport the body down the cliff.

'I'm a keen amateur geologist and fossil hunter,' Marsden brightly continued.

'Plenty of old fossils in the station,' muttered Uckfield.

Marsden made no comment. He valued his career too much for that. 'This cliff is mainly comprised of Lower Greensand. It's a loose, unconsolidated sandstone, like the rubble used in construction,' he explained to Uckfield's baffled glared. Horton hadn't known what it meant either, although he'd felt it on his face and had brushed it off his clothes. 'It contains sands of varying grain size with some amounts of siltstones, mudstones, containing smectites and limestones.'

'If you say so,' sniffed Uckfield.

Horton indicated the path and asked Elkins to remain behind for which the sergeant smiled his thanks. They'd only gone a few steps when Uckfield began to pant, while Clarke, the photographer, the slender Beth Tremaine and stooping Phil Taylor seemed to find the trek easy, although Taylor was muttering something about the trees and burgeoning bushes playing havoc with his hay fever. He sneezed to prove it. Uckfield tossed him an angry glare, fearful Taylor might bring down the earth in an avalanche on top of them.

Marsden, clearly just getting into his stride, both physically and verbally, continued to give them a geology lecture, 'The Lower Greensand Group was deposited during the Early Cretaceous Period, which lasted for approximately forty million years from 140 to 100 million years.'

'I think our remains are more recent than that,' said Horton, but how recent he couldn't say. There was hair left on the scalp and some traces of flesh. It would need the expertise of Dr Clayton to give them an indication of time of death.

'Lower Greensand is one of the most landslide-susceptible formations in the UK, so this could give at any moment.'

Uckfield looked nervous. 'Is it much further?'

'No,' Horton replied.

Marsden continued enthusiastically, 'When fresh and unexposed to air, the greensand is soft which makes it much easier to collect fossils. You can simply use a knife or trowel, and any fossils you do find will be in excellent condition.'

'Yeah, well the only fossil I'm interested in collecting now is the one Inspector Horton has dug up,' snapped Uckfield. He stumbled, and a slither of earth fell beneath his feet, causing him to mutter an oath. Horton reached out and steadied him.

'It's just down there,' he said, gesturing to where he'd left the corpse, hoping it was still there and exposed.

'And I'll be down there in a minute,' Uckfield growled. 'Let's get this over with. You lot stay here,' he commanded the crime scene team in a voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking loudly would cause an avalanche. Horton thought it good advice; the fewer of them trampling around here the better. He wondered if it would have been wiser to wait until the firefighters had arrived and applied safety harnesses to the crime scene officers. Too late now. He led the way around a virulent shrub and through some ferns until they came to a small clearing of earth. He could hear the sea below them, washing on to the shore, and where the shrubs had been upended and the cliff had given way in places, he could also see it through the gaps. The tide was going out.

The remains were exactly as Horton had left them an hour ago. If he hadn't come here the body could have lain buried for years, maybe forever. The same could have been said about Ben in his cabin, if the geologist on a fossil hunt hadn't arrived when she did.

Horton stepped cautiously aside to allow Uckfield and Marsden a view of the remains. The corpse gave off no stench, but it wasn't the prettiest of sights, although Horton had seen worse. The jaw gaped wide, displaying yellowing teeth which seemed to look huge in the cavernous spectre. The soft flesh of the eyes, ears and nose had decomposed and been eaten by insects and animal life.

Horton said, 'You can see what I mean about the skull. It's battered and there's a small hole on the right temple that looks as though it could be a bullet wound.'

'How did the other two men you mentioned die?'

'Ben of cardiomyopathy, heart disease,' Horton summarized. 'Cedric Halliwell from Beachwood House above us, I don't know, but it was deemed to be of natural causes.'

'Then maybe one of them shot this poor bugger before keeling over.'

That would be convenient, thought Horton. Even so, enquiries would have to be made.

Uckfield turned away and Marsden followed suit. Horton joined them on what he hoped was more solid ground, but he wasn't banking on it.

Uckfield instructed the crime scene officers to do only the basics. 'We don't want any more bodies to retrieve.'

The three of them, already wearing scene suits, placed their masks over their mouths and, while Clarke manipulated his tall, lean body into a position where he could take photographs without falling down the cliff, Beth Tremaine and Taylor began to carefully clear the earth around the remains. Horton found himself holding his breath. He suspected Marsden and Uckfield were doing the same.

It didn't take much to expose the rest of the body, which was intact. What remained of the clothes – fragments of trousers, a suit jacket, shirt and a pair of rotting slip on shoes – indicated it was probably male. Horton said, 'He doesn't look like a hiker, not in those clothes, and neither is he dressed as though he's come off a boat and climbed up here.'

Uckfield addressed Marsden, 'Is it possible he might have fallen from a footpath and ended up lying on his back?'

'Landslips are pretty unpredictable, sir. The soil could have gradually given way around and under him, without disturbing the position, but you need to ask a forensic geophysicist that.'

Uckfield said he had seen enough, and he told the crime scene officers not to hang around or disturb the corpse further than was necessary. 'Any sign of a landslip, leave the body. We can retrieve it later if necessary.'

Back on firm ground, the RIB was just pulling into the bay with the firefighters on board. Uckfield ordered Marsden to escort them to the body. To Horton, he said, 'No point in calling the doctor out to certify death, we know the poor bugger's dead. And we don't want any more people trampling about up there.'

Horton agreed and said, 'It's unlikely we'll be able to search the area for any personal belongings or forensic evidence, it being so unstable, but we might be able to search the base of the cliff in case anything of the victim's has fallen down here.'

'Never mind that for now,' Uckfield dismissed impatiently. 'I think it's about time you told me what you were doing here, and how you managed to stumble over matey up there.'

Horton had been expecting this and, as he had waited for Uckfield to arrive, had been considering how much to impart. His relationship with Uckfield went back to their first day in the force when they had forged a friendship which had seen them being best man at each other's weddings. Horton's suspension just over two years ago had tested that relationship and, since Uckfield's promotion to Superintendent, Uckfield had put some distance between them. Horton knew full well where Uckfield's loyalties lay, and if it came down to an official reprimand or enquiry, Uckfield would sacrifice their friendship on the altar of his career. Horton decided the bones of the truth would be sufficient. Besides, he didn't have many facts, and there was still so much he didn't understand, especially given the revelation of this corpse.

He told Uckfield how he had met Lomas on the private beach of Lord Eames' property in October, before the investigation into the disappearance and subsequent death of a private investigator whose body had been found there. Lomas had given him a business card and, because Horton had been curious about him, he had asked Jane to check it for fingerprints.

'You mean that, during the investigation, you didn't reveal a possible suspect?' Uckfield declared disapprovingly and incredulously.

'I felt sure he wasn't one, which was confirmed.'

'What you feel has nothing to do with policing.'

'You sound like DCI Bliss now.'

'Well she's right and you're wrong,' Uckfield snapped. 'You can't keep going against the rules, Andy. You've already sailed too damn close to the wind. One more time and you'll be out. I can't –' but he didn't get any further. He cried out and clutched his side, doubled up in pain.

Startled and concerned Horton said, 'What's wrong? Are you OK, Steve?'

'Just a stitch from climbing up that damn cliff,' Uckfield panted.

But it looked more than that to Horton. He caught Elkins' eye who, witnessing the scene, made to hurry forward, but Uckfield, despite his pain, managed to wave a podgy arm for Elkins to stay back. Through gritted teeth, he said, 'Go on.'

'I forgot about him,' Horton lied, 'and that we still held his prints. But when the prints matched that of the unidentified male in the mortuary, I came over to identify him. But it's not the man I met, so there must have been another set of prints on that card that at some time got wiped off.'

Horton saw Elkins' worried expression and shook his head slightly. Uckfield took a few breaths, then his expression of pain lifted and, cautiously, he began to straighten up. 'Who is this Lomas?' he asked tentatively, as though waiting for the spasm to return.

'He said he was an artist. He was on Lord Eames' beach looking for driftwood to turn into art.'

'And what were you doing on that private beach?' Uckfield asked, now seemingly recovered.

'I was due to appear in court here on the island, but the two men who had stolen sculptures from the abbey, one of which had been donated by Lord Eames, changed their plea to guilty, so I broke the good news to the abbot and then thought, as I was along that part of the coast, I'd call in and tell his Lordship.' Uckfield eyed him dubiously. Horton knew it was a bit nebulous. It had been an excuse, a fail-safe device in case Eames was at home in October, which was highly unlikely given that he usually only occupied the property during the major international sailing regatta of Cowes Week in August. Horton hadn't really known what he had hoped to achieve by seeing the house, or what he had hoped to accomplish by walking through the private wood to Eames' beach. All that happened was he'd met Wyndham Lomas.

'Eames wasn't in, the house was closed up, as you know from the ensuing investigation. And nothing was picked up on the security monitors.' A fact that still niggled away at Horton. Why hadn't an alert sounded when he and Lomas were trespassing? Or if it had, why had no one questioned him. He didn't know about Lomas. The security system was monitored by Mike Danby's company and Danby, being ex-job and a friend of Horton's, would have told him if Lomas had been located and questioned. Horton had encountered Danby many times since last October, but he'd given no indication that any of his operatives or monitors had registered his or Lomas's presence.

Uckfield said, 'This landslip corpse could be Lomas then?'

'I guess he could be, but the clothes seem wrong. When I met him, he was dressed very casually in shorts and a T-shirt.'

'He must have changed since then!' Uckfield seemed to be back to his usual self.

Horton admitted that was the case. He added, 'While Taylor and Tremaine are here, they can take prints and DNA samples from Ben's cabin, and from Cedric Halliwell's house. If Dr Clayton can lift fingerprints from the dead man, we might find a match in one or both of those places, which will give us a connection.'

'We'll need a warrant for the house,' Uckfield declared.

'Sergeant Norris is finding out who the executor is. He or she could give us permission, which would save time.' Horton's phone rang. 'It's Norris.' He listened for a while, said, 'No I'll speak to him. Give me his address. Can you arrange for the body to be taken to the mortuary? We'll bring it into Shanklin, there's a slipway at the end of the promenade.' Norris confirmed he'd arrange it. Horton said he would update him later and rang off. To Uckfield he said, 'The executor is a local solicitor by the name of Peter Chilcott, based in Shanklin. I'll call on him.'

'After Ripley's taken me back to Portsmouth. I'll leave Marsden with you.'

'Do you want me to ring Dr Clayton?'

Uckfield said he did. He gave instructions for the scene-of-crime team to examine the cabin as there was no one to apply to for permission. Before climbing into the police RIB, Uckfield turned back to Horton. 'You're not to mention what happened. It was just a stitch in the stomach, caused by too much exercise. OK?'

'If you say so, Steve.'

'And tell Sergeant Elkins that.'

Horton did, but he could see that Elkins didn't believe him.

He called Dr Clayton who said she was in Exeter but would be back in Portsmouth tomorrow. She confirmed she would examine the corpse and conduct the post-mortem on the Isle of Wight. Horton asked if she had heard about the fire at the sailing club.

'No. Is there much damage?' was her shocked answer.

'Well that's a relief, although not for those whose boats have been destroyed. Random destruction or targeted?' she asked.

'The jury's still out on that. Can you think of any reason why someone should have a grudge against the three victims, or the club?'

'Not against Venda Atkinson. She's loved by everyone.'

'Not so Councillor Levy? He seems to have plenty of enemies.'

'Yes, he's brash and full of himself.'

'And the Chief Constable?'

'Love's himself too, and thinks he knows it all when it comes to sailing, which I can assure you, Andy, he doesn't. If I hear anything on the grapevine about the fire, I'll let you know. Ask Clarke to email me the photographs of your body. I'll look at them on the ferry on the way over tomorrow.'

Horton then called Cantelli and relayed what had happened while he watched the crime scene officers and DC Marsden descend the cliff. He asked if there had been any progress on the highway robberies.

'A woman called in to say that she thinks she might have witnessed the latest robbery while she was walking her dogs. Walters has gone to interview her. He got back from the sailing club an hour ago. He says the CCTV images show no sign of life, either front or rear. He's left Leonard to break the news to the chief.'

'Lucky old Leonard.' Horton rang off and addressed Taylor as the firefighters came into view carrying the corpse in a body bag on a stretcher, 'Anything?'

'We've taken soil samples and we've bagged up twigs, stones and insect carcases. There's no sign of any personal belongings, but they could be scattered around the cliff or ditched elsewhere.'

As Horton had already conjectured and expressed to Uckfield. He told them to examine the cabin and the boat, and to bag up the woodcarving tools, mug and bottle on the table. There might be some prints and DNA to be extracted from them. Possibly those of the corpse, who could have descended to the cabin and been killed on his way back up to Beachwood House. Had the landslip corpse been a visitor to Beachwood House. Perhaps a friend of Halliwell's? Or possibly the reverse, an enemy, and he could have been killed on his way down to the cabin. By Halliwell? Or by someone else who had been staying at the house? Horton only had Norris's word that Halliwell was something of a recluse. For all he knew, he could have thrown riotous parties or had a stream of guests or family visiting. But Horton recalled the semi-derelict state of the house. Halliwell could have been frail and elderly and completely unconnected with the landslip corpse, which was much more probable. Perhaps he'd had someone caring for him. Horton told Marsden he was to accompany him to the solicitors.

Ripley wasn't long returning with the RIB – the powerful boat could make the round trip across the Solent comfortably within an hour. Within minutes Horton was climbing on board with Marsden, the two firefighters, Elkins and the corpse. Another ten minutes saw the stretcher being placed into the private ambulance with blackened windows at the seaside town of Shanklin. The incident drew some attention from a few passers-by and promenade strollers, some of whom took pictures on their mobile phones. Those would no doubt appear on the internet shortly, along with a great deal of speculation.

Elkins bought some sandwiches and drinks from the nearby café for himself, Ripley and the crime scene team, while Horton and Marsden, also equipped with refreshments, set off on the steep climb to the town centre. Horton hadn't eaten since breakfast and that was over eight hours ago. The day was racing away. It was just after four thirty.

Weaving their way past the day trippers, Horton, ignoring Uckfield's threats about not mentioning his episode, asked Marsden if he had noticed anything wrong with Uckfield, medically.

'He seems his usual self to me, sir,' Marsden replied.

Then perhaps that incident had been the first, and maybe the climb up the cliff had been too much for Uckfield. If so, he should look at dieting and getting fit, but Horton wasn't going to volunteer telling him.

He asked Marsden about his possible promotion to sergeant. Marsden smiled. 'In May. I take up my new rank and position on Operation Pelican.'

That was a major Hampshire police drug-busting operation. Horton warmly congratulated him and wondered who Marsden's replacement would be in Uckfield's team.

They turned left towards the railway station and, halfway down the road, drew up outside a large double-fronted, turn of the century house, which had been converted into offices. It boasted the name of Peter Chilcott Solicitors. Horton hoped the solicitor hadn't already left for home, because he was curious to learn more about the late Cedric Halliwell and his close neighbour, Ben, which could possibly tell them more about the landslip corpse.