‘I wonder if his first name is Raymond,’ Cantelli said, silencing the car and nodding in the direction of a sparkling brass plaque to the right of the sturdy royal-blue door of Wallingford and Chandler in Newport. Horton knew that Cantelli’s love of Raymond Chandler sprang from the film adaptations of the author’s legendary novels rather than the novels themselves.
‘His initial’s R. So it could be,’ Horton replied, climbing out and eyeing the three storey colour-washed Georgian house in front of him. It was spread over three floors, with two windows on the first floor and another two on the third. It looked much like the other elegant period properties in the quiet and respectable broad street, a stone’s throw from the quay. There was no blatant advertising here, not even a sniff of ambulance chasing. Wallingford and Chandler looked discreet, expensive and exclusive, which made him wonder why they’d handled Colin Yately’s divorce. This legal firm looked as though they were more used to dealing with bankers and businessmen, rather than postmen.
Cantelli made the introductions and showed his warrant card to the pretty blonde receptionist with the upper-class accent, immaculate make-up and beautiful dental work. As she rang through to Mr Chandler, Horton surveyed the room. It boasted a glittering crystal chandelier that looked as though it had come out of some grand opera house, probably had, he thought. There were soothing pale colours on the walls, elegant classical furniture, which they didn’t test out, interior design magazines of the expensive kind, and highly polished floorboards over which were spread rugs that hadn’t come from any discount warehouse. It could have been mistaken for an expensive consultant’s room. He wondered how it had looked in Victor Hazleton’s days. The same? Had Hazleton stamped his taste for antiques here, which had lived on after his reign, or had he acquired his passion for antiquities while working here?
Cantelli’s hushed voice interrupted Horton’s speculations. ‘So who do you think our Mr Chandler will look like: Alan Ladd, Humphrey Bogart or Dick Powell?’
Horton’s eyes scanned the walls, which boasted some remarkably good paintings of local beauty spots: the Needles, St Catherine’s Lighthouse, Whitecliff Bay, along with other spectacular coastal scenes, before alighting on the wall behind the pretty receptionist where there hung an array of tastefully framed photographs which seemed to document the history of the firm from the 1800s to the present day.
‘None of them if that’s him,’ Horton said, indicating the most recent pictures, where a dark-haired man with a high forehead, angular face and strong nose featured prominently. In a couple of them he was receiving awards and in others he was with groups of clients either golfing, fishing in a sizeable motor boat or at a gala reception.
‘Ray Milland,’ announced Cantelli firmly, following the direction of Horton’s gaze.
‘That could be Wallingford.’
But it wasn’t. Ray Milland, or rather his lookalike, Chandler, rose from behind a big antique desk situated in a spacious and elegantly furnished first floor room, tastefully decorated in the same soothing pale-yellow as the reception area, and with the same period features; even the floorboards had been stripped and varnished and overlaid with a beautiful red deep-pile antique rug, which again reminded Horton of Victor Hazleton’s house. He made a mental note to suggest to Uckfield calling in Oliver Vernon to value the items in Hazleton’s house, and at the same time he could pump him for more information about Glenn.
Chandler, smiling, stretched out a strong hand, which Horton took. He found it dry and warm, and, as Rodney Chandler introduced himself, Horton noted his eye contact was assured and friendly, and his dark suit of excellent quality. They’d been offered refreshments, which they had refused. Normally Cantelli would have sunk a mug of tea but Horton knew he was still wary to accept anything so soon after his forty minute sea voyage, which miraculously had been sick free, although Cantelli had begun to look a little green as they headed into the terminal at Fishbourne. Horton had taken coffee on the ferry. As they’d disembarked Trueman had rung to say that his checks on Norman and Vivien Walker had shown that Vivien Walker had been convicted of shoplifting twenty-eight years ago when she was twenty-four. First offence. Nothing since. Shoplifting was a long way from murder.
‘How can I help you?’ Chandler asked in a rich deep voice. He gestured them into the two antique leather library seats opposite.
Horton said, ‘We understand that Arthur Lisle and Victor Hazleton worked here.’
Chandler gave a gentle lift of an eyebrow as a demonstration of his surprise at the statement. Trueman hadn’t revealed that when he had called earlier to make the appointment.
‘They did. Why the interest, Inspector?’
Horton told him that Arthur Lisle was missing and that Hazleton’s body had been recovered from the sea in suspicious circumstances. Chandler made the obvious connection.
‘You can’t honestly suspect that Arthur has anything to do with Victor’s death!’ he declared, incredulous.
‘We’re concerned for Mr Lisle’s safety,’ Horton replied cagily.
Chandler continued to eye him with an air of astonishment. ‘You think Arthur could be mentally ill, that he’s had some kind of breakdown or brainstorm and killed Victor? No,’ he said firmly, shaking his head, ‘it’s impossible. He’s as sane as you and I. Surely there must be a mistake. How did Victor die?’
‘We’re waiting on the results of the autopsy.’
‘And just because Arthur is missing and they worked together you’ve assumed a connection and the wrong one, Inspector. Arthur could be on holiday.’
‘Not according to his daughter.’ Horton weighed up whether to tell Chandler that Hazleton’s body had been discovered in Lisle’s car. It would soon be public knowledge anyway and he wasn’t getting far with his enquiries here. He gave Chandler the details and watched his eyebrow go up and down in surprise and disbelief.
‘This is incredible, but I see why you said you were worried for Arthur’s safety. He too could be a victim. But of whom? Who could possibly want to kill either or both of them?’
Horton didn’t answer the question. Clearly Chandler wasn’t going to believe Lisle had killed Hazleton. He said, ‘When did Arthur Lisle retire?’
‘Three years ago. He took early retirement to care for Abigail, his wife. She had MS. Sadly she died eighteen months ago.’
That confirmed what the daughter had told them and what Trueman had unearthed.
‘Were they happily married?’
Chandler looked surprised at the question, then frowned. ‘Yes. Why do you want to know that?’
‘No hint of either of them having affairs?’
‘None. I can’t see where your questioning is leading, Inspector.’
Horton wasn’t going to elaborate. He said, ‘What was Mrs Lisle like?’
Again the eyebrow shot up but Chandler answered in a neutral tone. ‘A very pleasant, friendly woman. Quiet.’
‘Not the kind to cause her husband any problems then?’
‘No.’
‘Have you seen Arthur Lisle since he retired?’
‘No.’
‘And Mr Hazleton?’
‘No. Victor retired a year after I started working here as a junior lawyer in 1985.’ He swivelled around in his leather chair and gestured up at one of the photographs behind him. ‘Following in my father’s footsteps and my grandfather’s. He established the firm here in 1870.’ He turned back to face them. ‘And my son is carrying on the family tradition. He’s with a client at the moment; otherwise you could have met him. Maybe you’ll have time before you leave.’
Was that a hint for them to hurry up and go, wondered Horton. Perhaps Wallingford and Chandler wasn’t the type of legal practice to handle criminal law and having the police on the premises was rather demeaning.
Cantelli looked up from his notebook. ‘Did Arthur Lisle work here when you first joined the firm?
‘Yes. He’d been here for a few years. He’s older than me by about eight years. I don’t remember the exact date Victor retired but if it’s important I can ask my secretary, Linda, to look it up for you.’
‘Please,’ answered Horton.
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 talking 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.