Between mouthfuls he explained what he’d found. ‘The box contains a probate for Harold Jenkins who lived in Ventnor-’
‘Well he’s no longer one of Chandler’s clients.’
‘And we won’t be able to speak to him unless we engage a clairvoyant. A divorce for the Barrington-Clarkes of Newport and three property transactions: one at Fishbourne, one in Newport and the other at Brighstone, which were all handled by Arthur Lisle.’
‘Any of the cases involve Victor Hazleton?’
‘His initials are on some correspondence but they’re more plentiful on the probate matter. I’ve cross-checked the files with the index, there’s nothing missing, as far as I can tell, but, as I said, we’ll need to do a more thorough trawl through the documents and get some legal advice to see if anything could have been extracted from one of the files.’
‘How many people are mentioned, apart from those working for Wallingford and Chandler and those involved in the legal process?’
‘Nine,’ Cantelli answered, biting into his sandwich. ‘Six connected with the buying and selling of the properties; the two divorcees and Harold Jenkins, of Ventnor, the deceased probate.’
‘Who inherited?’
‘From my quick read, and it was only brief, it was a nephew called Trevor Markham.’
And where was he now? ‘Should there have been more money?’ wondered Horton aloud, heading for Ventnor.
‘Perhaps this Markham found out he should have inherited more and killed both Hazleton and Lisle for revenge.’
‘Why bother when he could simply have exposed the fraud?’
‘Revenge? Or perhaps he’s a psycho case. Hazleton could have been swindling the account for years and stashing the money away for his retirement. Perhaps something triggered Arthur Lisle’s curiosity, he checked the file, and discovered the fraud. And tells Yately.’
‘Why?’
‘Perhaps Yately is related to this Trevor Markham or knew him. Angry that his friend or relative got duped, he confronts Hazleton and gets killed. Then Lisle does the same.’
‘But that means Lisle should be dead and not Hazleton.’
‘Something could have gone wrong. They struggled. Lisle accidentally kills Hazleton, tries to cover it up and then, filled with remorse, kills himself by driving his beloved old car into the sea and drowning. His body is swept away on the high tide.’
‘Why wouldn’t Yately or Lisle have reported the fraud to us, the police, instead of confronting Hazleton?’
‘Not everyone does.’
‘It doesn’t account for Yately wearing a woman’s dress though.’
Cantelli polished off the last of his sandwich and frowned. ‘No.’
‘And that’s our sticking point on everything, Barney, except for Uckfield’s favoured theory of Abigail Lisle having an affair with Colin Yately, for which we have no evidence, not even a hint of it.’ Horton then told Cantelli about his walk to the shore and the thought that Hazleton could have been helping smugglers. ‘There’s a direct route up to his house and he could have been reporting all this suspicious lights stuff to the local police to make them consider him an idiot and stop investigating.’
‘Like that poem about Matilda telling such dreadful lies that when she did tell the truth about the house being on fire no one believed her and she perished in the flames.’
‘Something like that. But again we’re back to that dress. What are we missing, Barney?’ Horton said earnestly.
‘A lot,’ was Cantelli’s swift reply as Horton pulled up outside the temporary incident room at Ventnor.
Dennings, jacketless and perspiring, glowered at them as they entered. He had a phone stuck to his ear, as did the other two officers in the room, and no sooner had one replaced the receiver than it rang again. Horton knew why — people were phoning in with reports of sightings of Yately and Lisle thanks to the Super’s earlier press briefing.
Slamming down the receiver, Dennings said, ‘So far Arthur Lisle’s been seen climbing Tennyson Down, flying a helicopter at Bembridge Airport, sailing a boat out of Yarmouth, dossing in a doorway in Ryde and jet skiing across the Solent to Portsmouth; next he’ll be swimming the bloody English Channel.’
Horton plonked the archive filing box on Dennings’ desk, causing him to start backwards. ‘Present for you, Tony.’
‘What is it?’
Horton quickly brought him up to speed with the interview at the solicitor’s office and what Cantelli had found in the files. He said nothing about his jaunt to Hazleton’s house, and his reconnaissance of the coastline there.
‘You don’t mean we have to waste time sifting through that!’ cried Dennings incredulously. ‘Just because Lisle wanted to check up on some old paperwork.’
Horton shrugged. ‘Please yourself. It’s your investigation.’ Horton turned to leave, prompting Dennings to say, ‘Where are you going?’
‘Back to Portsmouth.’
‘There’s work to be done here.’
‘Not by me and Sergeant Cantelli, there isn’t. We were asked to interview Wallingford and Chandler and we did, with that result.’ Horton jerked his head at the box.
Dennings made to reply but his phone rang. He glared at it as though he could silence it by sheer willpower but it refused to obey him. As he grabbed it Marsden entered the room followed by two uniformed officers, one of whom was Claire Skinner. Horton returned her smile as he heard Dennings’ end of the conversation. ‘Look, I can’t get there now, I’m busy.’ There was a moment’s silence while the person at the other end replied. Then Dennings said, ‘Tell me what you’ve got. . I don’t want a report; I want you to tell me now how Hazleton died. . I know it’s complex, it’s a murder case,’ Dennings sneered. Horton silently winced. It didn’t need many guesses to know who the caller was. It had to be Dr Clayton, and Horton didn’t think she was going to be very pleased with the DI’s attitude. Dennings’ mobile rang. He snatched it up from his desk and, seeing who it was, said abruptly into his landline, ‘Email me the key points,’ before he rang off and turned his attention to his mobile.
Horton slowly shook his head and made to leave as he heard Dennings say, ‘No, Guv. . Yes. . It’s been mad here. . I. . Yes, she says she’s finished. I can’t. . Yes he’s here. Horton,’ Dennings called out, then into his mobile. ‘OK. . but. . Yes, Guv.’ To Horton he growled, ‘You’re to go to the mortuary. The Super’s orders.’
‘Hope he squares it with my boss, then.’
Horton didn’t wait to hear Dennings’ reply. He was secretly pleased with the way it had played out, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Dennings. He noted that Cantelli had already beaten a hasty retreat. Horton knew why. Even the smell of the mortuary was better than being stuck in an overheated room with a bad-tempered DI, and a cacophony of phones that would need to be politely answered.
Outside, Cantelli said, ‘I almost feel sorry for Dennings.’
Horton threw him the car keys and an astonished look.
‘I said almost. I wouldn’t have eaten those sandwiches if I’d known where we were going.’
‘You could go back and volunteer to man the phones.’
‘Think I’ll risk throwing up.’
And Dr Clayton’s bad temper, thought Horton. But hopefully she’d have recovered her good humour by the time they arrived.
SIXTEEN
‘I’m glad it’s you,’ Gaye said, ‘because I might not have been responsible for my actions if I’d come face to face with that oaf who’s supposed to be a detective. Surgery with a sharp knife on some vital parts might have been called for. Want to see the victim?’