A Killing Coast dah-7 Read online

Chandler lifted his phone, punched in an extension and gave instructions to his secretary. As he replaced the receiver, Cantelli said, ‘Could either man have visited the practice when you weren’t here?’

  Horton knew what Cantelli was driving at; he was trying to establish a link between Hazleton and Lisle which was more recent than 1985.

  ‘They might have done. You’d have to ask the staff.’

  ‘If we can, with your permission, sir.’

  Chandler looked a little nonplussed and then annoyed. Horton guessed it was because he’d allowed himself to play into their hands. ‘They are rather busy. And I wouldn’t want the clients disturbed.’

  ‘We’ll be as quick and discreet as we can.’ At a sign from Horton, Cantelli folded away his notebook and slipped out of the room. Horton knew the sergeant would also take the opportunity to ask the staff for their views on Arthur Lisle and probe for any hint or gossip of possible affairs.

  Horton said, ‘What was Victor Hazleton like?’

  ‘I didn’t really know him but I remember him being a small, very smart, rather fussy man, very particular. He had very high standards about how the office should be kept and how people should dress and behave, which to me, then at the tender age of twenty-five, seemed a bit extreme, but I’ve come to see how right he was. He also had a very good eye for detail. My father, and his partner John Wallingford, both sadly no longer with us, were very fond of him.’

  His evidence bore out what Horton and Uckfield had seen in Hazleton’s house yesterday. Horton said, ‘What was his position here?’

  ‘Office manager when I joined.’ Which confirmed what Vivien Walker had told Horton. He wondered if that was how Hazleton had met Vivien Walker. Perhaps this law firm had been appointed to represent Vivien Walker on her shoplifting charge. If so, Horton was surprised that Hazleton had admitted her into his house full of valuable antiques, although to be fair she’d never committed another offence, or had never been caught, added his sceptical mind. Perhaps Norman Walker had mended her wicked ways.

  Chandler said, ‘Victor started as a clerk but my father recognized a valuable employee when he saw one.’

  ‘There was never anything against Hazleton?’

  ‘Good God, no! He was a scrupulously honest man and very hard-working.’

  ‘We’ve heard he liked to exaggerate, nothing harmful, just stretched the truth a little in telling a few tall stories.’

  ‘Well, I never heard him tell any or heard a word said against him,’ Chandler replied a little stiffly.

  But on Chandler’s own admission he hadn’t seen Hazleton for years.

  Horton could hear the traffic in the silence that followed this announcement. ‘Is there anyone here from when Victor Hazleton was employed?’ Horton knew Cantelli would establish that but it might be worth comparing notes afterwards.

  Chandler shook his head. So, thought Horton, Arthur Lisle had been the last link here with Victor Hazleton, unless you counted the man sitting in front of him. Shame. Horton would have liked a few other opinions and a bit more background on the elderly man who had become an unexpected victim.

  ‘Do you manage the practice single-handedly, sir?’

  ‘At the moment, yes, until my son becomes a partner at the end of the year.’

  ‘So there are no Wallingfords left?’

  ‘No. We’ll be changing the name to Chandlers on the first of January next year.’ He smiled. ‘A new era begins.’

  Horton returned Chandler’s smile. ‘Tell me about Arthur Lisle,’ he said.

  Chandler didn’t speak for several seconds and Horton didn’t prompt or press him. The lawyer was obviously considering his response. There was no need to read anything sinister into that.

  ‘Arthur was a quiet man and highly intelligent, but, as they say, lacking ambition. He specialized in property law and could have gone much further in a bigger practice, but he was content to stay in conveyancing and here. He didn’t even want to become a partner.’ Chandler spoke as if that was both incredible and sad.

  Did he draw up wills?’ Not that Horton thought that was relevant, but he recalled one of his theories that someone wanted to suppress a will made by Hazleton in order to inherit and so had dispensed with a witness and the lawyer.

  ‘A few times when we were short-staffed but it wasn’t a regular occurrence.’

  ‘Did either Victor Hazleton or Arthur Lisle make a will with you?’

  Chandler’s eyebrow again lifted in surprise. Horton couldn’t help wondering how many hours he stood in front of a mirror practising that. Had someone once told him he resembled Roger Moore? If so, they had grossly misled the man.

  ‘Arthur did. I don’t know about Victor; would you like me to check?’

  ‘I expect my sergeant already is. If Mr Hazleton did make a will with you, sir, we’d like a copy of it.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Horton didn’t ask to see Arthur Lisle’s will because he knew that Chandler wouldn’t let him see the will of someone still living. Dennings hadn’t found a copy of it in Lisle’s house yesterday. And Horton didn’t think it was relevant anyway. He said, ‘What did Lisle do in his spare time?’

  ‘I don’t think he had much with his wife so ill for many years. He was devoted to her and his family.’

  But his daughter didn’t seem so devoted to her father, only visiting him fleetingly, once a week, thought Horton. He got the impression from the way Chandler spoke that being a family man was something of a black mark against Lisle and wondered why before answering his own question. DCI Bliss and Uckfield were the same; family first in their eyes meant lack of commitment. With them, as it had once been with him, he thought with a twinge of guilt, it was job first and family second. Well, he’d paid the price. And what of Bliss and Uckfield? Bliss was single and Uckfield barely acknowledged his family. Cantelli was different though, thank goodness, and he was right to be.

  He didn’t think there was much more he could get from Chandler and what he had got was precious little. He showed him Yately’s photograph and asked him if he knew or recognized him. He drew a blank.

  ‘I believe your firm handled Colin Yately’s divorce eighteen months ago.’

  ‘Well, he doesn’t look familiar but then I don’t handle divorce, and neither did Arthur. You’ll need to talk to Susan Elizabeth Hague, only she’s on maternity leave at the moment. I deal with business law and disputes, intellectual property. But why do you want to know about this man?’

  ‘Could we have Ms Hague’s contact details?’

  ‘Terry Bramley can give them to you, he’s our office manager. But you haven’t said why you’re interested in Colin Yately.’

  Horton told him that he’d been found dead in the Solent and that they’d established a connection between Yately and Arthur Lisle.

  ‘I see,’ Chandler nodded thoughtfully. ‘I heard on the news about a body being found at sea. I’m afraid I can’t tell you how Arthur and Mr Yately became friendly but I suppose it could have been through this firm. What did Mr Yately do for a living?’

  ‘He was a postman.’

  The eyebrow shot up again. There was a tap on the door and Linda entered. ‘There’s no record of a will for Victor Hazleton. Sergeant Cantelli also asked me.’

  And, Horton recalled, there hadn’t been one in Hazleton’s personal file in his house, so where was it? Had Hazleton actually made a will? Surely being a tidy man he must have done. If it was in the house then they’d find it. He wondered if the Walkers were there now checking to see if anything was missing and whether Dennings was with them. Well he’d have nothing to report back to Dennings about this connection. It was clearly a disappointing dead end. It seemed Cantelli had risked seasickness for nothing.

  Horton thanked Chandler for his time and said they’d notify him if and when they had news of Arthur Lisle. He left Chandler looking concerned and headed along the corridor, glancing into a couple of rooms on the way. He found Cantelli in the last room on the first floor talk
ing to a bald, fresh-faced man in his late forties, who was sitting in front of a computer at a desk that was laden with more paperwork than Horton’s. Immediately Horton could see Cantelli was on to something and his heart quickened.

  Swiftly, Cantelli introduced Terry Bramley, the office manager. ‘Mr Bramley says that Arthur Lisle was here two weeks ago.’

  ‘He asked to see an archive file,’ Bramley said. ‘From October 1980. They’re archived off site and he asked me to request it.’

  Horton knew immediately this was significant, although he couldn’t see how. He said, ‘You obliged even though Lisle was no longer an employee.’

  ‘I didn’t see any harm in it, especially as he’d worked on the case,’ Bramley said defensively.

  ‘What case?’

  Bramley flinched at the sharpness of Horton’s question. He flushed, saying, ‘I, er, don’t know. He wasn’t specific, just said he wanted to check something on an old case he’d worked on.’

  Was Bramley lying? Horton didn’t think so, but he could see Bramley was mentally calculating whether his desire to oblige Lisle was going to get him into trouble. ‘It was manic in here. I didn’t have time to question him about it. Arthur is completely trustworthy and discreet. I gave him the number of the storage company and he rang through and requested the file himself.’

  ‘And when was it delivered?’

  ‘That day. I don’t know what time but Arthur said he’d come back after lunch and I told him he could use my office. I had a half day.’

  That was unfortunate from their point of view. ‘Was the file still here the next day?’

  ‘No. Arthur left a note on my desk thanking me and said he’d got the storage company to collect it.’

  Cantelli said, ‘Why didn’t Mr Chandler mention this?’

  ‘Because he wasn’t here. He was out fishing, with a client.’

  Convenient, thought Horton. So Lisle had slipped in, accessed the file and slipped out again without anyone knowing what he’d been searching for. Of course it could have nothing to do with his disappearance or Hazleton’s death, but what was it that Lisle was so keen to look up? They needed to know.

  ‘Could you phone the storage company and tell them we have permission to access the file.’

  ‘Now?’

  Horton nodded.

  As Bramley picked up the phone, he said, ‘Does Mr Chandler need to know about this?’

  ‘I suggest you tell him.’ Horton didn’t need to add, ‘before we do’. He got the address and telephone number of Susan Elizabeth Hague before they left and on the way to the storage company that was just outside Newport, Cantelli rang her, while Horton drove. Coming off the line a few minutes later, Cantelli said, ‘She remembers the case very well, and Colin Yately. It was a straightforward divorce, no complications.’

  ‘Lucky them,’ muttered Horton, thinking of his own marital split and divorce proceedings that seemed to be stretching on for ever. Then he recalled the filthy, sodden, half-chewed body in the woman’s dress and suppressed a shudder; poor Colin Yately hadn’t been so lucky after all.

  ‘She said that she usually handles divorce at the top end of the market, and the staff I spoke to confirmed that Wallingford and Chandler are expensive and exclusive but get excellent results for their clients. She liked Colin and she knew him very well because he was the firm’s postman. So she agreed to take it on.’

  That explained that and confirmed Horton’s views about the legal practice. ‘Did you get to talk to Chandler junior?’

  Cantelli shook his head. ‘No, he was still with his client but he handles wealth management.’ Cantelli quickly consulted his notebook and read, ‘Which entails estate and tax planning, business succession, charitable giving, trusts and asset protection. Would be nice to have some wealth to manage,’ he added snapping his notebook shut. ‘The talk is that Wallingford and Chandler are doing very well, thank you. Chandler runs a Range Rover and lives in a large manor house near Kingston, and Chandler junior is single but has a girlfriend who works in London. Junior lives in an apartment at Cowes Marina. The staff I spoke to all liked Arthur Lisle; there wasn’t a bad word said against him; quiet, kind, calm and brilliant at his job. None of them remembered Victor Hazleton.’

  Which wasn’t surprising given that he had retired so long ago. Horton turned into a track. The sign said ‘Lane’s Farm and Storage Company’.

  ‘Let’s hope we can find out what Arthur Lisle was so interested in two weeks ago.’ But even if they did, Horton wondered if it had any connection with his disappearance and the murder of two men.

  FIFTEEN

  They were shown into a tiny office at the back of a large building by a dour-faced farmer, who told them he’d diversified into archive retrieval and storage and converted two of his large modern barns because the farming industry was buggered. He now employed four drivers and two office staff and made more in one month from storage and shredding than he did in six from farming. Horton wasn’t sure whether he believed him but that didn’t matter. What did was the contents of the large storage box dated October 1980 that had been placed in front of them.

  When they were alone, Cantelli lifted the lid and pulled out a contents list which was also inscribed on the front of the box.

  Horton peered at it and ran through the names. He didn’t recognize any of them as being connected with the case. ‘Shouldn’t take you long to look through that lot.’

  ‘What’s this “you”?’

  ‘Don’t want me crowding your style. While you’re checking through the contents I’m going to take a look around the area at Hazleton’s house.’

  ‘Dennings won’t thank you for trampling on his ground.’

  ‘I know Dennings. He’s in charge, which means he’ll be in the incident suite trying to look and sound impressive, and barking out directions to any of the poor plods who are unfortunate enough to enter it.’

  ‘It would help if I knew what I was looking for.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll spot it, if it’s there.’

  ‘Don’t forget to come back for me. I don’t fancy being roped in to milk the cows.’

  ‘There aren’t any on this farm.’

  ‘Then make sure I don’t get filed away.’

  As Horton headed across the Island to the east coast and Hazleton’s house, he wondered why Lisle had been interested in the file from October 1980. He could have been looking up the address of a former client who’d become a friend and who he’d lost contact with. Or perhaps he was trying to trace someone related to a former client. It probably had nothing to do with the deaths, or Lisle’s disappearance, but there was a slim chance it could have and therefore it had to be followed up.

  A patrol car and police van were parked on Hazleton’s driveway and there was no sign of Marsden’s car, so the coast was DI Dennings clear, unless the goon had come in the patrol car, which Horton doubted; it would be beneath him. He showed his ID to the officer on the door, who told him the Walkers and DC Marsden had been and gone. From what he had heard they hadn’t said anything was missing.

  Horton was logged in and he found a handful of officers bagging up anything that could be relevant to the inquiry. From the landing window, as he climbed the stairs to the observatory, he could see others combing the grounds in search of a possible murder weapon or any evidence that the murder had taken place there. He speculated on what Dr Clayton’s post-mortem might discover before pushing open the door of the observatory. It was stifling hot and he was alone. The light-blue sea was rippling under a clear sky that seemed to stretch for ever. All he could see on the horizon was a lone yacht with white sails steadily making its way around the island. Lucky thing. He focused the telescope on it and on board saw a man and woman wrapped up against the crisp April air. Catherine had never liked sailing. She’d been more at home on Uckfield’s motor boat, despite the fact her father sailed a large yacht. But he knew that Dr Clayton liked sailing. Maybe he should ask her if she’d like to go out with him on
his yacht. Perhaps she already had a boyfriend she went sailing with. He knew little about her except she was divorced.

  He swivelled the telescope round thinking that perhaps Dennings was with her in the mortuary. That wouldn’t please her. But as he’d said to Cantelli, Dennings wouldn’t want to leave the incident suite and miss out on anything. No, he’d probably wait for Gaye Clayton to report back to him, and if Horton wasn’t very much mistaken Neanderthal man would soon be hassling her for the results, unless he had something else to occupy his small brain.

  Horton turned his concentration closer to the shore but he couldn’t see into any of the bays in either direction because of the lie of the land. The small bays and coves were tucked in under the cliff, which meant that Hazleton wouldn’t have seen anything actually entering any of them, but he could have seen a boat heading for one of them as he’d mentioned.

  He returned to the ground floor and crossed the garden where he again showed his ID to the officer-in-charge of the search, who reported that nothing resembling a murder weapon had been found, but as they didn’t yet know what that was they were bagging up anything that looked suspicious. It wasn’t a great deal, just the occasional branch, but nothing with bloodstains on it.

  Horton found a path at the edge of the garden and soon he was striking out down a steep narrow track bordered by hedgerows that was leading him down to the sea. Would Hazleton have been physically able to climb back up this path at his age, he wondered? The man had been wiry and had looked fit so it was possible, especially if he had used the path frequently and by doing so had enhanced his fitness.

  After about half a mile Horton emerged from the trees and shrubs to find he was crossing a small field which came out at the edge of a low cliff. He looked over it on to a small shingle bay. It was about two hours away from high tide so impossible to walk in either direction around to the next small cove, but he noted there was another track, which led down the cliff on to the shore. At high water it would be possible to get a small boat in here but there were clearly no caves and no chines, and nowhere for Yately to stash his store of women’s clothes.