Pauline Rowson - A Killing Coast

‘I’ve been trying to get you for hours,’ Cantelli said, with relief in his voice. Then Cantelli had told him that he’d found Sarah Walpen listed as a passenger on the SS Agora , and had discovered Russell Glenn’s name on the list of crew.

Horton had quickly relayed what had happened and what Vernon had said. Horton asked Cantelli to get him the names of boat owners at Ventnor Haven. If neither Russell Glenn nor Oliver Vernon had killed Yately, Lisle and Hazleton, then only one person could have done. Horton had then ridden the Harley along the top road until he’d found the track off it that led down to Sarah’s house and he’d relayed instructions to the patrol cars on how to find it. Someone had brought him a pair of socks and shoes to replace his sodden ones.

Uckfield joined him at the water’s edge ‘Vernon’s still insisting he didn’t kill the others.’

‘He didn’t.’

‘Then who the hell did?’ Uckfield cried, surprised.

Horton checked his watch. It was almost six thirty but if they were lucky there was still time. He turned and headed back up the cliff top. Uckfield had no choice but to follow him. ‘Where are you going?’ he said breathlessly.

‘Newport.’

Uckfield frowned. Then he raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t mean Yately’s former wife killed her husband and the others?’

‘No, but Yately’s divorce was how Arthur Lisle and Colin Yately became friends. They discovered a mutual interest in local history, which unfortunately led to their deaths.’

Horton gave Uckfield the address and directions, and half an hour later he watched Uckfield pull up beside him outside the offices of Wallingford and Chandler. Horton pushed open the door and was once again staring up at the photographs on the wall behind reception.

‘I was just leaving,’ Chandler’s secretary Linda said nervously. Horton showed his ID in case she had forgotten who he was, though clearly she hadn’t. ‘We need a word with Mr Chandler. Would you tell him we’re here?’ But Chandler must have seen them pull up because he entered reception.

‘No need. You can close up, Linda.’

Before she could do so two uniformed officers stepped inside. Linda scuttled away wide-eyed. Chandler frowned, but said pleasantly enough, ‘Shall we go up to my office.’ It wasn’t a question.

As he led the way up the sweeping staircase to the first floor Uckfield threw Horton an irritated glance. Horton knew Uckfield would have liked the facts before they’d entered the premises but Horton didn’t know them all for certain yet, though he suspected that most of what he’d managed to put together would be close to the truth. No one spoke until they were seated in Chandler’s tastefully decorated and spacious office, when Horton introduced Uckfield.

Chandler’s eyebrow rose in surprise and a solemn expression crossed his face. ‘I take it this is about poor Victor’s death and Arthur being missing. You obviously have some news and by your demeanour I deduce that it isn’t good.’

‘We’ve found Arthur Lisle. He’s dead,’ Horton said bluntly.

The eyebrow went up and down. ‘This is rather a shock, Inspector.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I. . maybe not.’ Chandler frowned. ‘I wasn’t completely honest with you on your first visit, and I apologize for that, but I felt some loyalty towards Arthur. When you said that Victor was dead, I couldn’t believe that Arthur could have killed him, but Arthur must have discovered that Victor had an affair with Abigail. That, and being distraught over her death, must have unbalanced him.’

Good try, thought Horton, and it’s what they had once thought, but not now. Although only Dr Clayton, at her post-mortem, would be able to confirm exactly how Arthur Lisle had died, not even a suicide could rise up and drive his car into the sea with a body in the boot. Evenly, Horton said, ‘That’s not why Victor Hazleton died. He, Colin Yately and Arthur Lisle died because you couldn’t bear the thought that Hazleton’s greed and his systematic theft of a client’s estate, plus the fact he could have killed that client, would expose your firm and ruin your reputation.’

Both eyebrows shot up this time and Chandler’s face flushed. ‘Are you implying that I killed them? That is a ludicrous accusation. I resent it and your tone and-’

‘You can resent it all you like,’ Uckfield growled, leaning forward, quickly picking up on Horton’s meaning. ‘But it’s the truth and you know it.’

Horton would have preferred to play it more slowly and carefully but that was not Uckfield’s way.

‘I refuse to say any more, not without a lawyer present,’ Chandler bristled.

Horton picked up Chandler’s phone. ‘You’ll need one.’

Chandler glared at Horton. He snatched the phone from him but didn’t make the call. ‘First, tell me exactly how I am supposed to have killed them,’ he sneered.

Uckfield stood up. ‘That’s what you’re going to tell us.’

But Horton ignored Uckfield’s impatient tone, and said, ‘Prompted by their research into influential people on the Island, Yately and Lisle discovered the Walpens, and that their lineage ended with Sarah Walpen who had gone to live in the States in 1957. But Arthur Lisle remembered the name and was convinced he’d handled a property matter for her in the 1980s. He could find no record of her death or any record of her living on the Island since 1957, which he found rather puzzling. He couldn’t remember the exact date he’d acted for her so he went to see Hazleton to ask if he remembered, and was amazed he was living so well. Hazleton must have fobbed him off with some feeble answer but Lisle was suspicious. Gradually, as Yately uncovered more history of the Walpens and relayed it to Lisle, he began to see what must have happened. His memory jogged, he finally remembered when he had acted for her, in October 1980. But when he requested the archive files there was no record of the transaction and none on the computer. So why wasn’t it on the system? One person could easily have erased the computer file and never archived the documentation: Victor Hazleton. But Lisle said nothing to Hazleton about it then. He wanted proof.’

Uckfield sniffed and crossed to the window, where he turned and steadily eyed Chandler. Dashing a glance at Uckfield and then back at Horton, Chandler said coolly, ‘Go on, Inspector.’ He replaced the phone.

‘Hazleton retired in 1986 and bought that house in 1990. We know that Sarah Walpen took a cruise before deciding to settle on the Island but she never reached her new home.’ Or at least she didn’t alive. ‘The property transaction was conducted by post and fax and all the paperwork and the deeds to the house were held here at your offices. I’m not sure when Victor Hazleton became curious, a year, maybe two years later, perhaps when he was about to archive the files, but he realized the deeds had never been collected. He called at the house, found it empty and clearly neglected. Sarah Walpen’s belongings had been shipped over and were in the house but they’d never been unpacked, and the furniture had just been placed in the rooms without being arranged. He saw the trunks with the labels on them and discovered that the SS Agora had disembarked on to a ferry in the Solent because of a dockers’ strike at Southampton. Inside one of the trunks he found the body of Sarah Walpen.’

‘This really is an incredible story,’ Chandler said in a supercilious manner.

‘Extraordinary but true. Hazleton waited to see if her killer returned or her body was discovered, but no one came and the house slowly fell into disrepair. He kept the deeds, extracted all the paperwork pertaining to the property transaction, and wiped the files clean. He could never take over the house because that might have been too risky. Instead he began to unpack her belongings and found many valuable antiques and jewellery, which her family had amassed over the generations and which she’d built on. Much of the furniture was also valuable, and while he was still fairly young, he could access the house before it became too overgrown. He transported a lot of the furniture, which he pretended was his, to his new house when he bought it in 1990. He began to sell the smaller items, slowly, piece by piece, in different auction houses in the south of England. No one cottoned on and he amassed enough money to live a life of luxury until he was killed on Tuesday night.’