"Did she get to know any of his sailing friends?"

"Not in the way you mean," she said bluntly.

"What way's that, Mrs. Sumner?"

"William said you think she was having an affair."

"We can't ignore the possibility."

"Oh, I think you can, you know." She gave him an old-fashioned look. "Kate knew the price of everything and the value of nothing, and she'd certainly have calculated the cost of adultery in terms of what she'd lose if William found out about it. In any case, she wouldn't have been having an affair with any of William's sailing friends in Chichester. They were all far more shocked by his choice of wife than I was. She made no effort to fit in, you see, plus there was a generation gap between her and most of them. Frankly, they were all completely bemused by her rather inane conversation. She had no opinions on anything except soap operas, pop music, and film stars."

"So what was her attraction for William? He's an intelligent man and certainly doesn't give the impression of someone who likes inane conversation."

A resigned smile. "Sex, of course. He'd had his fill of intelligent women. I remember him saying that the girlfriend before Kate"-she sighed-"her name was Wendy Plater, and she was such a nice girl ... so suitable ... that her idea of foreplay was to discuss the effects of sexual activity on the metabolism. I said, how interesting, and William laughed and said, given the choice, he preferred physical stimulation."

Galbraith kept a straight face. "I don't think he's alone, Mrs. Sumner."

"I'm not going to argue the point, Inspector. In any case, Kate was obviously far more experienced than he was, even though she was ten years younger. She knew William wanted a family, and she gave him a baby before you could say Jack Robinson." He heard the reservation in her voice and wondered about it. "Her approach to marriage was to spoil her husband rotten, and William reveled in it. He didn't have to do a damn thing except take himself to work every day. It was the most old-fashioned arrangement you can imagine, with the wife as chief admirer and bottle-washer, and the husband swanking around as breadwinner. I think it's what's known as a passive-aggressive relationship, where the woman controls the man by making him dependent on her while giving the impression she's dependent on him."

"And you didn't approve?"

"Only because it wasn't my idea of a marriage. Marriage should be a meeting of minds as well as bodies, otherwise it becomes a wasteground where nothing grows. All she could talk about with any enthusiasm were her shopping expeditions and who she'd bumped into during the day, and it was quite clear William never listened to a word she said."

He wondered if she realized William had yet to be eliminated as a suspect. "So what are you saying? That he was bored with her?"

She gave his question long consideration. "No, I don't think he was bored," she said then, "I think he just realized he could take her for granted. That's why his working day got progressively longer and why he didn't object to the move to Lymington. She approved of whatever he did, you see, so he didn't have to bother spending time with her. There was no challenge in the relationship." She paused. "I hoped children would be something they could share, but Kate appropriated Hannah at birth as something that was the preserve of women, and if I'm honest the poor little thing created even more distance between them. She used to roar her head off every time William tried to pick her up, and he soon got bored with her. I took Kate to task about it, as a matter of fact, told her she wasn't doing the child any good by swamping her in mother love, but it only made her angry with me." She sighed. "I shouldn't have interfered. It's what drove them away, of course."

"From Chichester?"

"Yes. It was a mistake. They made too many changes in their lives too quickly. William had to pay off the mortgage on my flat when he sold the house across the road, then take out a much larger one to buy Langton Cottage. He sold his boat, gave up sailing. Not to mention flogging himself to death driving to and from work every day. And all for what? A house he didn't even like very much."

Galbraith was careful to keep the interest out of his voice. "Then why did they move?"

"Kate wanted it."

"But if they weren't getting on, why did William agree to it?"

"Regular sex," she said crossly. "In any case, I didn't say they weren't getting on."

"You said he was taking her for granted. Isn't it the same thing?"

"Not at all. From William's point of view she was the perfect wife. She kept house for him, provided him with children, and never pestered him once to put himself out." Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. 'They got on like a house on fire as long as he paid the mortgage and kept her in the manner to which she was rapidly becoming accustomed. I know you're not supposed to say these things anymore, but she was awfully common. The few friends she made were quite dreadful ... loud ... over-made-up..." She shuddered. "Dreadful!"

Galbraith pressed his fingertips together beneath his chin and studied her with open curiosity. "You really didn't like her, did you?"

Again Mrs. Sumner considered the question carefully. "No, I didn't," she said then. "Not because she was overtly unpleasant or unkind, but because she was the most self-centered woman I've ever met. If everything-and I do mean everything-in life wasn't revolving around her she maneuvered and manipulated until it did. Look at Hannah if you don't believe me. Why encourage the child to be so dependent on her unless she couldn't bear to compete for her affections?"

Galbraith thought of the photographs in Langton Cottage, and his own conclusion that Kate Sumner was vain. "If it wasn't an affair that went wrong, then what do you think happened? What persuaded her to take Hannah on board someone's boat when she hated sailing so much?"

"What a strange question," the woman said in surprise. "Nothing would have persuaded her. She was obviously forced on board. Why should you doubt that? Anyone who was prepared to rape and kill her, then leave her child to wander the streets alone, would obviously have no qualms about using threats to coerce her."

"Except marinas and harbors are busy places, and there have been no reports of anyone seeing a woman and child being put on board a boat against their will." Indeed, as far as the police had been able to establish so far, there had been no sightings of Kate and Hannah Sumner at all at any of the access points to boats along the Lymington River. They hoped for better luck on Saturday when the weekenders returned, but meanwhile, they were working in the dark.

"I don't suppose there would have been," said Angela Sumner stoutly, "not if the man was carrying Hannah and threatening to hurt her if Kate didn't do what he said. She loved that child to distraction. She'd have done anything to prevent her being harmed."

Galbraith was about to point out that such a scenario would have depended on Hannah's willingness to be carried by a man, which seemed unlikely in view of the psychiatric report and Angela Sumner's own admission that she screamed her head off every time her own father tried to pick her up, but he had second thoughts. The logic was sound even if the method had varied ... Hannah had obviously been sedated...

*11*

Memo To: Detective Superintendent Carpenter

From: Detective Inspector Qalbraith

Date: 12 August 97-9:15 p.m.

Re: Kate & William Sumner

Thought you'd be interested in the enclosed report/statements. Of the various issues raised, the most telling seem to be: 1. Kate made few friends, and those she had came from her own milieu.

2. She appears to have had little interest in her husband's friends/pursuits.

3. There are some unflattering descriptions of her-i.e., manipulative, sly, deceitful, malicious.

4. William is under stress over money worries.

5. The "dream house" was clearly Kate's idea, but the consensus view is that William made a mistake buying it.

6. Finally, what on earth was the attraction? Did he marry her because she was pregnant?

Some interesting vibes, don't you think?

John Witness statement: James Purdy, Managing Director, Pharmatec UK I've known William Sumner since he joined the company fifteen years ago at the age of twenty-five. I recruited him myself from Southampton University, where he worked as an assistant to Professor Hugh Buglass after gaining his MSc. William led the research into two of our pharmaceutical drugs-Antiac and Counterac-which between them represent 12 percent of the antacid market. He is a valued and valuable member of the team and is well respected in his profession. Until his marriage to Kate Hill in 1994 I would have described William as the eternal bachelor. He had an active social life, but his real interests were work and sailing. I remember him telling me once that a wife would never allow him the sort of freedom his mother did. Various young women set their caps for him over the years, but he was adroit at avoiding entanglement. I was surprised therefore when I heard that he and Kate Hill were planning to get married. She worked at Pharmatec for some twelve months in '93-'94. I was extremely sorry to hear about her death and have authorized extended leave for William while he comes to terms with his loss and sorts out the care of his daughter. As far as I am aware William was in Liverpool during the weekend of 9-10 August, although I had no contact with him after he left on the morning of Thursday, 7 August. I barely knew Kate Hill-Sumner while she was here and have not seen or heard from her since she left.

James Purdy Witness statement: Michael Sprate, Services Manager, Pharmatec UX Kate Hlll-Sumner worked as part of my team from May '93 to March '94, when she left the company. She had no shorthand, but her typing skills were above average. I had one or two problems with her, principally in relation to her behavior. This could be very disruptive at times. She had a sharp tongue and was not averse to using it against the other secretaries. I would describe her as a bully who had no qualms about spreading malicious gossip in order to undermine someone she had taken a dislike to. She became particularly difficult after her marriage to William Sumner, which she clearly felt gave her an elevated status, and had she not decided to leave voluntarily, I would certainly have sought to have her transferred from my department. I know William only slightly, so cannot comment on their relationship as I have not seen or heard from Kate since she left Pharmatec UK. I know nothing about her death.

Michael Sprate Witness statement: Simon Trew, Manager, R&D, Pharmatec UK William Sumner is one of our leading scientists. His most successful research resulted in Antiac and Counterac. We are optimistic that something may come of the project he is working on at the moment, although he has hinted for some time now that he might be leaving us to work for one of our competitors. I believe the pressure to move has been coming from his wife. William took on an expensive mortgage some twelve months ago, which he is having trouble honoring, and the increase in salary we can offer him does not match the offer from elsewhere. All our employee contracts contain indemnity clauses relating to the unauthorized use of research ideas funded by Pharmatec UK, so if he decides to leave, his research will remain with the company. I understand that he is reluctant to abandon the project at what he believes to be a crucial point; however, his financial commitments may force his hand sooner than he would like. I have never met Kate Sumner. I joined the company two years after she left, and my relationship with William has always been strictly professional. I admire his experience and expertise, but I find him difficult to get on with. He carries a permanent chip on his shoulder because he sees himself as undervalued, and this causes friction within the department. I can confirm that William left for Liverpool on the morning of Thursday, 7 August, and that I spoke to him by telephone shortly before he delivered his paper on the afternoon of Friday, 8 August. He appeared to be in good spirits and confirmed a meeting with me for 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday, 12 August. In any event the meeting did not take place. I know nothing about Mrs. Sumner's death.

Simon Trew Witness statement: Wendy Plater, Research Scientist, Pharmatec UK I've known William Sumner for five years. We were very close when I first joined the company, and I visited him and his mother in Chichester and also went sailing once or twice on his boat. He was a quiet man with a dry sense of humor, and we spent some pleasant times together. He always told me he wasn't the marrying kind, so I was very surprised when I heard that Kate Hill had hooked him. If I'm honest, I thought he had better taste, although I don't think he stood a chance once she set her sights on him. There is nothing nice I can say about her. She was uneducated, vulgar, manipulative, and deceitful, and she was out for anything and everything she could get. I knew her quite well before she married, and I disliked her intensely. She was a stirrer and a malicious gossiper, and she was never happier than when she was pulling people down to her own level or below. Lying was second nature to her, and she told some appalling lies about me for which I have never forgiven her. The sad part is William changed for the worse after his marriage. He's been a right bitch since he moved to Lymington, constantly complaining about the people he works with, disrupting team spirit, and whinging on about how he's been cheated by the company. He made a mistake selling his boat and taking on a huge mortgage, and he's been venting his spleen on his work colleagues. I believe Kate to have been a terrible influence on him; however, I cannot conceive of a single circumstance that would have caused William to have anything to do with her death. The impression I have always had is that he was genuinely fond of her. I was at a disco on Saturday night, 9 August, with my partner, Michael Sprate. I haven't seen or heard from Kate Simmer since she left Pharmatee UK, and I know nothing about her murder.

Wendy Plater Witness statement: Polly Garrard, Secretary, Services, Phannatec UK I knew Kate Hill very well. She and I shared an office for ten months while she worked in Services. I felt sorry for her. She had a hell of a life before she moved to Portsmouth. She lived on a run-down council estate in Birmingham, and she and her mother used to barricade themselves behind their front door because they were so terrified of the other tenants. I think her mother worked in a shop, and I think Kate learned her typing while she was still at school, but I can't swear to either. I remember she told me once that she had been working in a bank before her mother died and that they'd sacked her because she took time off to care for her ma. On another occasion she said she resigned voluntarily in order to nurse her mother. I don't know which story is true. She didn't talk much about her life in Birmingham except to say it was pretty rough. She was okay. I liked her. Everyone else thought she was a bit sly-you know, out for what she could get-but I just saw her as an incredibly vulnerable person who was looking for security. It's true she took against people and picked up bits of gossip about them and spread them around, but I'm not convinced she did it from malice. I think it made her feel better about herself to know that other people weren't perfect. I visited her a couple of times after she and William got married, and on both occasions her mother-in-law was there. Mrs. Sumner Sr. was very rude. Kate married the son, not the mother, so what business was it of hers if Kate talked with a Brummie accent and held her knife like a pencil? She was always lecturing Kate on how to bring up little Hannah and how to be a good wife, but as far as I could see she was making a success of both without any interference from anyone. The best thing she did was move to Lymington, and I'm really upset she's dead. I haven't seen her for over a year, and I know nothing about her murder.

Polly Garrard Addendum to report on Hannah Sumner ("Baby Smith") following conversation with William Sumner (father) and telephone conversation with Dr. Attwater, GP Physical: As before.

Psychological: Both father and doctor agree that Hannah's mother was overprotective and would not allow her to develop naturally by playing with other children or by being allowed to explore her own environment and make mistakes. She had some contact with a mothers' and toddlers' group, but as Hannah's play tends to be aggressive, her mother chose less exposure to other children rather than more as a means of dealing with it. Hannah's "withdrawal" is manipulative rather than frightened, and her "fear" of men has everything to do with the sympathetic reaction it inspires in women and nothing to do with any real terror. Both father and doctor describe Hannah as being of below-average intellect, and blame both this and her mother's overprotectiveness for her poor verbal skills. Dr. Attwater has not seen Hannah since her mother's death; however, he is confident that my assessment of her does not differ materially from the assessment he made six months ago.

Conclusions: While I am prepared to accept that Hannah's backward development (which I believe to be serious) may not be due to any recent event, I can only reiterate that this child's welfare must be continuously monitored. Without supervision, I consider it probable that Hannah will suffer psychological, emotional, and physical neglect, as William Sumner (father) is immature, lacks parental skills, and appears to have little affection for his daughter.

Dr. Janet Murray *12*

Steven Harding was released without charge shortly before 9.00 a.m. on Wednesday, 13 August 1997, when the review officer declined to authorize his continued detention due to lack of evidence. However, he was informed that both his car and his boat would be retained for "as long as is necessary." No further explanation was offered for their retention. With the cooperation of the Hampshire Constabulary, he was remanded on police bail to Twenty-three Old Street, Lymington, the house of Anthony Bridges, and was ordered to present himself at the Lymington police station daily so that a regular check could be kept on his movements.

On the advice of a solicitor, he had made a detailed statement about his relationship with Kate Sumner and his movements over the weekend of 9-10 August, although it added little to what he had already told the police. He explained the fingerprint evidence and the presence of Hannah's shoes on Crazy Daze in the following manner: They came on board in March when I had the boat lifted out of the water to clean and repaint the hull.

Crazy Daze was in Berthon's yard, sitting on a wooden cradle, and when Kate realized I couldn't get away from her because I had to finish the painting, she kept coming to the yard and hanging around, making a nuisance of herself and irritating me. In the end, just to get rid of her, I agreed to let her and Hannah climb the ladder and look at the inside while I stayed below. I told them to take their shoes off and leave them in the cockpit. When the time came for them to climb down again, Kate decided Hannah couldn't manage the ladder so lowered her down to me instead. I strapped Hannah into her buggy, but I didn't notice whether or not she was wearing shoes. To be honest I never look at her much. She gives me the creeps. She never says anything, just stares at me as if I'm not there. Some time later I found some shoes in the cockpit with H. Sumner written on the strap. Even if they were too small to be the ones Hannah was wearing that day, I have no other explanation for their presence there.

Although I knew where the Sumners lived, I did not return Hannah's shoes because I was sure that Kate had left them there deliberately. I did not like Kate Sumner, and I did not want to be alone with her in her house because I knew she had a serious crush on me which I did not reciprocate. She was very peculiar, and her constant pestering worried me. I can only describe her behavior as harassment. She used to hang around by the yacht club waiting for me to come ashore in my dinghy. Most of the time she just stood and watched me, but sometimes she'd deliberately bump into me and rub her breasts against my arm. The mistake I made was to visit Langton Cottage with her husband shortly after she introduced me to him in the street at the end of last year. I believe that was the beginning of her infatuation. At no time was I inclined to respond to her advances.

Some time later, at the end of April, I think, I was moored up to the Berthon fueling pontoon, waiting for the dockie to come and operate the pump, when Kate and Hannah walked down "C" pontoon toward me. Kate said she hadn't seen me for a while but had spotted Crazy Daze and felt like a chat. She and Hannah came on board without invitation, which annoyed me. I suggested Kate go into the aft cabin to retrieve Hannah's shoes from the port shelf. I knew there were some clothes belonging to other women in the cabin, and I thought it would be a good thing if Kate saw them. I hoped it would make her realize that I wasn't interested in her. She left soon afterward, and when I went into the cabin, I found she'd taken off Hannah's nappy, which was dirty, and had ground the mess into the bedclothes. She had also left the shoes behind again. I believe both acts were done deliberately to show me that she was angry about the women's underclothes in the cabin.

I became seriously concerned about Kate Sumner's harassment of me when she found out where I parked my car and took to setting off the alarm to get Tony Bridges and his neighbors riled with me. I have no proof it was Kate who was doing it, although I am sure it must have been because I kept finding feces smeared on the driver's-side handle. I did not tell the police about my suspicions because I was afraid of becoming even more involved with the Sumner family. Instead I sought out William Sumner sometime in June and showed him photographs of myself in a gay magazine because I wanted him to tell his wife I was gay. I realize this must seem odd after I had shown Kate evidence that I entertain girlfriends on board Crazy Daze, but I was becoming desperate. Some of the photographs were quite explicit, and William was shocked by them. I don't know what he told his wife, but to my relief, she stopped harassing me almost immediately.

I have seen her in the street maybe five times since June but did not speak to her until the morning of Saturday, 9 August, when I realized I couldn't avoid her. She was outside Tesco's, and we said good morning to each other. She told me she was looking for some sandals for Hannah, and I said I was in a hurry to get off because I was sailing to Poole for the weekend. That was the extent of our conversation. I did not see her again. I admit that I was very aggrieved by her persecution of me, and developed a strong dislike for her, but I have no idea how she came to drown in the sea off the Dorset coast.

A long interview with Tony Bridges produced a corroborative statement. As DS Campbell had predicted, Bridges was known to the Lymington police as a cannabis user, but they took a tolerant view of it. "Once in a while his neighbors complain when he has a party in there, but it's alcohol that makes them raucous, not cannabis, and even the blue-rinse brigade are finally beginning to realize that." Rather more surprisingly, he was also a respected chemistry teacher at one of the local schools. "What Tony does in the privacy of his home is his own affair," said his headmaster. "As far as I'm concerned, the policing of my colleagues' morals outside school hours isn't part of my job description. If it were, I would probably lose some of my better staff. Tony's an inspirational teacher who enthuses children in a difficult subject. I have a lot of time for him."

I've known Steven Harding for eighteen years. We attended the same primary and secondary schools and have been friends ever since. He sleeps in my house when his boat's out of commission or during the winter when it's too cold for him to stay on board. I used to know his parents quite well before they moved to Cornwall in 1991, but I have not seen them since. Steve sailed down to Falmouth two summers ago, but I don't believe he's made any other visits to Cornwall. He divides his life between his flat in London and his boat in Lymington.

He told me on more than one occasion this year that he was having problems with a woman called Kate Sumner, who was stalking him. He described her and her child as weird, and said they scared him. His car alarm kept going off, and he told me he thought it was Kate Sumner who was activating it and asked me if he should report it to the police. It was a pretty odd story, so I wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. Then he pointed out the feces on the car-door handle and told me how Kate Sumner had wiped her child's nappy on his sheets. I told him that if he brought the police into it it would get worse rather than better and suggested he find somewhere else to park his car. As far as I know, that sorted the problem.

I have never spoken to Kate or Hannah Sumner. Steve pointed them out to me once in the middle of Lymington then dragged me around a corner so we wouldn't have to speak to them. His reluctance was genuine. I believe he found her seriously intimidating. I met William Sumner once in a pub at the beginning of this year. He was drinking alone and invited Steve and me to join him. He knew Steve already because they'd been introduced to each other by Kate after Steve had helped her with her shopping. I left after about half an hour, but Steve told me later that he went back to William's house to continue a discussion they were having about sailing. He said William used to race a Contessa and was interesting to talk to.

Steve's a good-looking bloke and has an active sex life. He has at least two girls on the go at the same time because he's not interested in settling down. He's obsessed with sailing and told me once that he could never get serious about anyone who didn't sail. He's not the kiss-and-tell type, and as I never listen to names, I've no idea who he's got on the go at the moment. When he's not acting, he can always get regular work as a photographic model. Mostly he models clothes, but he's done a few sessions for pornographic magazines. He needs money to fund the flat in London and keep Crazy Daze afloat, and that kind of work pays well. He's not ashamed of the photographs, but I've never known him to show them around. I've no idea where he stores them.

I saw Steve on the evening of Friday, 8 August. He dropped in to tell me he was off to Poole the next day and wouldn't see me again until the following weekend. He mentioned that he had an audition in London on Monday, 11 August, and said he was planning to catch the last train back on Sunday night. Later, a mutual friend, Bob Winterslow, who lives near the station, told me that Steve had rung from his boat to ask if he could borrow a sofa Sunday night in order to catch the first train on Monday morning. But he stayed on board and missed his audition. This is standard for Steve. He tends to come and go as he pleases. I became aware that Steve had cocked up when his agent, Graham Barlow, phoned me on Monday morning to say there was no sign of Steve in London and he wasn't answering his mobile phone. I phoned friends to see if anyone knew where he was, then borrowed a dinghy to go out to Crazy Daze. I discovered that Steve was badly hung over, and that this was the reason for his nonappearance.

I spent the weekend, 9-10 August, with my girlfriend Beatrice "Bibi" Gould, whom I've known for four months. On Saturday night we went to a rave at the Jamaica Club in Southampton, returning home at approximately 4:00 a.m. We slept through till sometime Sunday p.m. I know nothing about Kate Sumner's death, although I am completely sure that Steven Harding had nothing to do with it. He is not an aggressive person.

(Police note: this rave certainly took place, but there is no way of checking whether A. Bridges & B. Gould were present. Rough estimate of numbers at the Jamaica Club on Saturday night: 1,000+.) Beatrice Gould's statement supported Bridges' and Harding's in all relevant details.

I'm nineteen years old, and I work as a hairdresser in Get Ahead in Lymington High Street. I met Tony Bridges at a pub disco about four months ago, and he introduced me to Steve Harding a week later. They've been friends for a long time, and Steve uses Tony's house as a base in Lymington when he can't stay on his boat for any reason. I've come to know Steve quite well over the time Tony and I have been together. Several of my friends would like to go out with him, but he's not interested in settling down and tends to avoid heavy relationships. He's a good-looking bloke, and because he's an actor as well, girls throw themselves at him. He told me once that he thinks they see him as a stud and that he really hates it. I know he's had a lot of problems in that way with Kate Sumner. He was nice to her once, and afterward she wouldn't leave him alone. He said he thought she was lonely, but that didn't give her the right to make his life a misery. It got to the point that he'd hide behind corners while Tony or I checked to see if she was on the other side. I think she must have been mentally disturbed. The worst thing she did was smear her daughter's dirty nappies on his car. I thought that was completely disgusting and told Steve that he should report her to the police.

I didn't see Steve the weekend of 9-10 August. I went to Tony's house at 4:30 p.m. on Saturday, 9 August, and at about 7:30 p.m. we left for the Jamaica Club in Southampton. We go there a lot because Daniel Agee is a brilliant DJ and we really like his style. I stayed at Tony's until 10:00 p.m. on Sunday night, then went home. My permanent address is Sixty-seven Shorn Street, Lymington, where I live with my parents, but I spend most weekends and some weekday nights with Tony Bridges. I like Steve Harding a lot, and I don't believe he had anything to do with Kate Sumner's death. He and I get on really well together.

Detective Superintendent Carpenter sat in silence while John Galbraith read through all three statements. "What do you think?" he asked when the other had finished. "Does Harding's story ring true? Is that a Kate Sumner you recognize?"

Galbraith shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't got a feel for her yet. She was like Harding, a bit of a chameleon, play-acted different roles to suit different people." He reflected for a moment. "I suppose one thing in Harding's defense is that when she rubbed someone up the wrong way she did it in spades-really got under their skin, in other words. Did you read those statements I sent you? Her mother-in-law didn't like her at all, and neither did Wendy Plater, William's ex-girlfriend, who was cut out of the running by Kate. You could argue it was straightforward jealousy on both counts, but I got the impression there was more to it than that. They used the same word to describe her. 'Manipulative.' Angela Sumner referred to her as the most self-centered and calculating woman she had ever met, and the girlfriend said lying was second nature to her. William said she was single-minded about what she wanted and had him wound around her finger from the first time she met him." He shrugged. "Whether any of that means she was stalking a man she became infatuated with, I don't know. I wouldn't have expected her to be so blatant but"-he spread his hands in perplexity-"she was pretty blatant in her pursuit of a comfortable lifestyle."

"I hate these cases, John," said Carpenter with genuine regret. "The poor little woman's dead, but her character's going to be blackened whichever way you look at it." He pulled Harding's statement across the desk toward him and drummed his fingers on it in irritation. "Shall I tell you what this smells of to me? The classic defense against rape. She was panting for it, guv. Couldn 't keep her hands off me. I just gave her what she wanted, and it's not my fault if she cried foul afterward. She was an aggressive woman, and she liked aggressive sex." His frown deepened to a chasm. "All Harding's doing is laying some neat groundwork in case we manage to bring charges against him. Then he'll tell us her death was an accident ... she fell off the back of the boat and he couldn't save her."

"What did you make of Anthony Bridges?"

"I didn't like him. He's a cocky little bastard, and a damn sight too knowledgeable about police interviews. But his and his blowsy girlfriend's stories tally so closely with Harding's that, unless they're operating some sort of sick conspiracy, I think we have to accept they're telling the truth." A sudden smile banished his frown. "For the moment anyway. It'll be interesting to see if anything changes after he and Harding have had a chance to talk together. You know we've bailed him to Bridges' address."

"Harding's right about one thing," said Galbraith thoughtfully. "Hannah gives me the creeps, too." He leaned forward, elbows on knees, a troubled expression on his face. "It's codswallop about her screaming every time she sees a man. I was waiting for her father to bring me some lists he'd made, and she came into the room, sat down on the carpet in front of me, and started to play with herself. She had no knickers on, just pulled up her dress and got going like there was no tomorrow. She was watching me the whole time she was doing it, and I swear to God she knew exactly what she was about." He sighed. "It was bloody unnerving, and I'll eat my hat if she hasn't been introduced to some sort of sexual activity, whatever that doctor said."

"Meaning you've got your money on Sumner?"

Galbraith considered for a moment. "Put it this way, I'd says he's a dead cert if, one: his alibi doesn't check out and, two: I can work out how he managed to have a boat waiting for him off the Isle of Purbeck." His pleasant face broke into a smile. "He gets under my skin something rotten, probably because he thinks he's so damned clever. It's hardly scientific but, yes, I'd put my money on him any day before Steven Harding."

For seventy-two hours, local and national newspapers had been carrying reports of a murder inquiry following the finding of a body on a beach on the Isle of Purbeck. On the theory that the dead woman and her daughter had been traveling by boat, sailors between Southampton and Weymouth were being asked to come forward with any sightings of a small blond woman and/or a three-year-old child on the weekend of 9-10 August. During her lunch break that Wednesday, a shop assistant in one of the big department stores in Bournemouth went into her local police station and suggested diffidently that, while she didn't want to waste anyone's time, she thought that something she'd seen on Sunday evening might be connected to the woman's murder.

She gave her name as Jennifer Hale and said she'd been on a Fairline Squadron called Gregory's Girl belonging to a Poole businessman called Gregory Freemantle. "He's my boyfriend," she explained.

The desk sergeant found the description amusing. She'd never see thirty again, and he wondered how old the boyfriend was. Approaching fifty, he guessed, if he could afford to own a Fairline Squadron.

"I wanted Gregory to come and tell you about it himself," she confided, "because he could have given you a better idea of where it was, but he said it wasn't worth the bother because I didn't have enough experience to know what I was looking at. He believes his daughters, you see. They said it was an oil drum, and woe betide anyone who disagrees with them. He won't argue with them in case they complain to their mother when what he ought to be doing..." She heaved the kind of sigh that every potential stepmother has sighed down the ages. "They're a couple of little madams, frankly. I thought we should have stopped at the time to investigate, but"-she shook her head-"it wasn't worth going into battle over. Frankly, I'd had enough for one day."

The desk sergeant, who had stepchildren of his own, gave her a sympathetic smile. "How old are they?"

"Fifteen and thirteen."

"Difficult ages."

"Yes, particularly when their parents..." She stopped abruptly, reconsidering how much she wanted to say.

"It'll get better in about five years when they've grown up a bit."

A gleam of humor flashed in her eyes. "Assuming I'm around to find out, which at the moment doesn't look likely. The younger one's not too bad, but I'd need a skin like a rhinoceros to put up with another five years of Marie. She thinks she's Elle MacPherson and Claudia Schiffer rolled into one, and throws a tantrum if she isn't being constantly petted and spoiled. Still..." She returned to her reason for being there. "I'm sure it wasn't an oil drum. I was sitting at the back of the flying bridge and had a better view than the others. Whatever it was, it wasn't metal ... although it was black ... it looked to me like an upturned dinghy ... a rubber one. I think it may have been partially deflated, because it was pretty low in the water."

The desk sergeant was taking notes. "Why do you think it was connected with the murder?" he asked her.

She gave an embarrassed smile, afraid of making a fool of herself. "Because it was a boat," she said, "and it wasn't far from where the body was found. We were in Chapman's Pool when the woman was lifted off by helicopter, and we passed the dinghy only about ten minutes after we rounded St. Alban's Head on our way home. I've worked out that the time must have been about six fifteen and I know we were traveling at twenty-five knots because my boyfriend commented on the fact as we rounded the Head. He says you'll be looking for a yacht or a cruiser, but I thought-well-you can drown off a dinghy just as easily as off a yacht, can't you? And this one had obviously capsized."

Carpenter received the report from Bournemouth at three o'clock, mulled it over in conjunction with a map, then sent it through to Galbraith with a note attached.

Is this worth following up? If it hasn't beached between St. Alban's Head and Anvil Point, then it'll have gone down in deep water somewhere off Swanage and is irretrievable. However, the timings seem very precise, so assuming it washed up before Anvil Point, your friend Ingram can probably work out where it is. You said he was wasted as a beat copper. Failing him, get on to the coastguards. In fact it might be worth going to them first. You know how they hate having their thunder stolen by landlubbers. It's a long shot-can't see where Hannah fits in or how anyone can rape a woman in a dinghy without turning turtle- but you never know. It could be that boat off the Isle of Purbeck you wanted.

In the event, the coastguards happily passed the buck to Ingram, claiming they had better things to do at the height of the summer season than look for imaginary "dinghies" in unlikely places. Equally skeptical himself, Ingram parked at Durlston Head and set off along the coastal path, following the route Harding claimed to have taken the previous Sunday. He walked slowly, searching the shoreline at the foot of the cliffs every fifty yards through binoculars. He was as conscious as the coastguards of the difficulties of isolating a black dinghy against the glistening rocks that lined the base of the headland, and constantly reexamined stretches he had already decided were clear. He also had little faith in his own estimate that a floating object seen at approximately 6:15 p.m. on Sunday evening, some three hundred yards out from Seacombe Cliff-his guess at where a Fairline Squadron might have been after ten minutes traveling at twenty-five knots from St. Alban's Head-could have beached approximately six hours later halfway between Blackers Hole and Anvil Point. He knew how unpredictable the sea was, and how very unlikely it was that a partially deflated dinghy would even have come ashore. The more probable scenario was that it was halfway to France by now-always assuming it had ever existed-or twenty fathoms under.

He found it slightly to the east of where he had predicted, nearer to Anvil Point, and he smiled with justifiable satisfaction as the powerful lenses picked it out. It was upside down, held in shape by its wooden floor and seats, and neatly stranded on an inaccessible piece of shore. He dialed through to DI Galbraith on his mobile. "How good a sailor are you?" he asked him. "Because the only way you'll get close to this little mother is by boat. If you meet me in Swanage I can take you out this evening. You'll need waterproofs and waders," he warned. "It'll be a wet trip."

Ingram invited along a couple of friends from the Swanage lifeboat crew to keep Miss Creant on station while he took Galbraith in to the shore in his own inflatable. He killed the outboard motor and swung it up out of the water thirty yards from land, using his oars to maneuver them carefully through the crops of jagged granite that lay in wait for unwary sailors. He steadied the little craft against a good-sized rock, nodded to Galbraith to get out and start wading, then followed him into the water and used the painter to guide the lightened dinghy onto what passed for a beach in that desolate spot.