Free Undercurrent by Pauline Rowson Page A

how desperate he was.
    ‘For heaven’s sake, Andy, I’m asking you to do a favour for an old friend.’
    But Horton knew that favours could be dangerous for coppers.
    ‘Look, if one of the buggers on that list looks likely then you can log the bloody crime,’ Ashton capitulated. ‘If they all come out whiter than Persil I’ll hire a private detective,
if
you can recommend any that are any good.’
    Horton knew a couple. Former DCI Mike Danby was the best but he specialized in security for the rich and famous and for peers of the realm like Agent Eames’s father, Lord Eames. He’d worked with Agent Eames recently on a case when she’d been sent over from Europol to assist. He wouldn’t mind working with her again, he thought, stretching out a hand to take the list with the feeling he was making a mistake. He compensated though by telling himself that he’d definitely make it official if one of these names flashed up on the database as a criminal and therefore a possible suspect. He glanced down at it; there were three men and one woman. ‘Who’s Sabina Jennings?’ he asked. Knowing Ashton’s track record it could very well be a case of hell hath no fury if Ashton had ditched her.
    ‘She was one of my skippers. Didn’t work out. Couldn’t handle the clientele, company directors, salesmen, bankers, not like the one I’ve got now, Melanie Jacobs. She’s good.’
    ‘And the three men?’
    ‘Two skippers, James Saunders and Paul Brading, and Kevin Wallace who worked in the office in Cowes, marketing.’
    ‘This list only covers the last two months.’
    ‘It can’t be anyone from before then,’ Ashton replied confidently, glancing impatiently at his watch.
    Can’t it? thought Horton. He knew that people could bear grudges a very long time and take revenge years after an event, but he didn’t say. ‘What about casual labour?’
    ‘I can’t see any of them doing this.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Not worth their trouble.’
    ‘But there have been a few who have been dismissed.’
    ‘Let go rather than formerly dismissed,’ Ashton corrected. ‘I took some students on, some were a waste of space and I got rid of them within a few days.’
    They could also be suspects but Horton didn’t say so. He didn’t want to volunteer for more unofficial work. But if none of the four names on the list seemed likely then either Ashton would have to make his complaint official or Horton would give him the name of a private investigator. He folded the sheet away, tossed back the remainder of his Coke and rose.
    ‘How soon can you do it?’ Ashton asked eagerly, following suit.
    ‘As soon as I have a moment. I’m investigating a man’s death in the dockyard last night and working on a million other things.’
    Ashton looked about to protest then forced a smile from his lips and said, ‘Yeah, of course. I appreciate your help. We’ll go out for a sail after Cowes Week on one of the new fleet.’
    Business must be good
. ‘Let me know if there are any further incidents. And if you receive any more letters don’t rip them up.’
    Ashton promised he wouldn’t. Horton watched him drive away. There wasn’t anyone following him. Turning back and surveying the dock, the man and woman with the camera were climbing into their car and there was no sign of the men in white shirts. Horton made for the station checking his mirrors. It didn’t appear that anyone was following him either.
    He was concerned about what Ashton had told him. Threats weren’t to be taken lightly and whoever was doing it had to be stopped before it escalated. Horton certainly didn’t want that, so the sooner he ran those names through the Police National Computer and the sooner he could make this official, the better.
    Cantelli greeted him in CID with the news that Uckfield wanted to see him the moment he came in. Horton assumed the summons meant that Uckfield had heard from the pathologist. He’d specifically asked to be informed of the