Footsteps on the Shore by Pauline Rowson Read Free Book Online

didn’t even know he hadn’t been in until this morning. I was at a conference in London on Wednesday and Thursday. When I discovered this morning that he hadn’t been into work and hadn’t reported sick I called the number he gave me. The man I spoke to, a Mr Harmsworth, said he didn’t know where Luke was, so I called Matt. Perhaps he’s had an accident.’
    Walters had already ruled that out, locally at least. Horton said, ‘Did Luke talk to you about his time in prison?’
    ‘No.’
    That was clearly a lie. Her eyes darted away from him. Horton reckoned she’d had a nice little post-coital chat with Luke about that, and probably a lot more.
    Cantelli said, ‘Did he speak of his friends or family?’
    ‘No,’ she answered with a note of exasperation. ‘He worked.’ She was beginning to look frazzled.
    ‘Was there any member of staff he talked to or seemed close to?’
    ‘I’ve already said. He worked alone.’
    That didn’t stop him communicating with someone, thought Horton. With a glance at Cantelli, he said, ‘We need to talk to the staff.’ Cantelli put away his notebook.
    ‘Is that really necessary?’ she said in alarm. ‘They won’t be able to help you.’
    Horton knew the reason for her trepidation. She’d come in for some criticism over her decision to engage an ex-convict. Well, that was her lookout.
    Cantelli slipped out of the office, aiming a silent plea at Horton, urging him to go easy. Kelly Masters watched him go with fear and a fidget.
    ‘Did Luke speak to any customers on the telephone?’ Horton asked.
    ‘He had no need to.’
    ‘But you weren’t with him in his office. So you don’t know that for sure.’
    ‘I do because there’s no telephone at his work station,’ she cried triumphantly.
    ‘What about email? I take it he would have had access to that and the Internet.’
    She squirmed. ‘Well, yes.’
    Horton rose. ‘Show me where Luke worked.’
    With ill grace she hauled herself up and led him through the corridor to a small office on the right. There was no one in it, but beyond the glass partitioning Horton could see Cantelli talking to a group of people in a large open-plan office. Catherine wasn’t among them, but then she had her own office on the other side of the reception area. And was she in there now? he wondered. Had she returned?
    With a churning gut, he pushed thoughts of her away and turned his attention to the desk in front of him. On it was a computer monitor and little else. He opened the desk drawers – only some paper and pens.
    ‘Did Luke have a laptop or mobile phone?’
    ‘Not that I know of,’ she said sulkily.
    ‘No one is to touch this computer. I’ll send someone to collect it. I’ll also need access to any passwords.’ They needed to check which sites Felton had visited and who he’d communicated with. He didn’t think that was Ronnie Rookley. He doubted Rookley even knew how to switch on a computer. But Felton could have been involved in something that had led to his body being washed up in the harbour – if it was him.
    She was looking worried, as well she might. Toby Kempton wasn’t going to be very pleased if his company name appeared in the press along with that of a convicted criminal. Catherine, as marketing manager, would have the media on her back, and bloody good luck to her, he thought, not without a touch of malicious satisfaction. He knew that Bliss’s instructions to contain this story were about as likely to be fulfilled as a politician hiding an affair, because although Kelly Masters, Toby Kempton and Catherine wouldn’t blab, he wouldn’t put it past one of the employees Cantelli was talking to wanting to get his or her name in the newspapers.
    By the time Horton returned to reception Cantelli was talking to the receptionist, a woman in her forties with straight dark hair in a short bob and a worried frown on her studious face. Cantelli broke off his conversation and headed towards Horton.
    ‘Andrea