Horton was shown into a small study crammed with books and papers in a modern house in the middle of undulating countryside not far from the coastal resort of Sandown.
Ian Williams, a lean man in his early fifties, with short light-brown hair, bright intelligent eyes and a cheerful small face, gestured Horton into a seat with a friendly smile. He’d made coffee, over which they talked about a shared interest in a love of the sea and sailing.
‘I heard about Colin Yately’s death on the radio. Terrible. He first contacted me in October last year, again in February, and three weeks ago,’ Williams said, getting down to business.
Horton sat forward, not bothering to disguise his keen interest. ‘Why did he contact you?’
‘He was researching the Island’s history, or more specifically Island families and the people who had shaped it in some way. William Arnold was one such person. He was appointed Collector of Customs at Cowes in 1777; a very hard-working, honest and determined man. He pressed for a faster cutter based at Cowes to stop the smugglers but when he didn’t get one he bought and fitted one out of his own pocket. Through his determination smuggling decreased. Then there was Hans Stanley who bought the Steephill estate to the west of Ventnor in 1770. Stanley was MP for Southampton from 1754 to 1780 and was made Governor of the Isle of Wight for life in 1774.’
‘You told Mr Yately about these people.’
‘Yes, and others, including John Morgan Richards, the tobacco magnate, who bought Steephill Castle in 1903 and continued the tradition of entertaining the rich and famous there.’
Horton felt the stirrings of disappointment. As he bit into a digestive biscuit, he was beginning to think this was a dead end, just as Cantelli’s enquiries into the armed robberies had been. His mind spun back to the call he’d received from Cantelli just before he’d knocked on Williams’ door. Both of the armed robbers that Adrian Stanley had arrested were now dead. So there was no point in pursuing that line and, as Cantelli had said, Adrian Stanley must have been trying to tell him something else. Horton had asked how Walters was getting on with Glenn’s guest list. No one suspicious so far was the result, which was what Horton had expected. He wondered if he should tell Sawyer what he suspected. Not until he’d finished with Ian Williams, and despite liking the man and enjoying his company, he thought he should make that sooner rather than later.
Williams was saying, ‘Mr Yately was also very interested in Dr Arthur Hill Hassall who was sent to Ventnor to convalesce from tuberculosis, which was a killer in the nineteenth century, as you probably know. He was so impressed by the beneficial effect of the mild climate of the Undercliff that he wrote to The Lancet in 1867 advocating the building of a hospital for tuberculosis patients. It was the beginning of a revolutionary and highly effective treatment, but even more effective was the coming of antibiotics in the 1950s which put an end to the hospital.’
Williams sipped his coffee. He looked as though he was getting into his stride and could wax lyrically for hours on the subject, but Horton didn’t have hours. He wanted to get back to the mainland long before the reception to see if DCI Harriet Lee or anyone else from the Intelligence Directorate was lurking on the boardwalk, watching Glenn’s yacht. And he wanted to corner Mike Danby to establish exactly how much he knew about any attempt to buy or sell whatever precious item was going to exchange hands tonight.
‘Mr Yately was also very interested in another prominent family of Ventnor, one which had a considerable influence in transforming it from a small fishing village to a town.’
Horton’s head snapped up, his interest suddenly aroused. They were almost the same words Yately had used in those notes. He sat forward. ‘And they were?’
‘The Walpens, as in the Chine,’ Williams smiled.
The chines, caves and coves of the Isle of Wight. That meant little on its own but Horton felt a pricking sensation between his shoulder blades that told him this had to be relevant, a feeling which deepened when Williams added, ‘In fact, when Mr Yately came to see me for the third time, three weeks ago, it was the Walpens he was particularly interested in.’
And two weeks ago Arthur Lisle had requested an archive file from the storage company. Horton couldn’t recall the Walpen name on the list of contents for the simple reason that it had never been entered. He’d been correct. God, he was close. He could feel it, smell it. He could almost touch the answer, it lay tantalizingly close, just outside his grasp. But he felt certain that soon the pieces would come together. Not caring if he betrayed his excitement, he said, ‘Tell me what you told Colin Yately.’
‘First we discussed the name Walpen, for a reason. Walpen Chine is on the south-west coast of the Island. It’s a sandy ravine, one of many such chines on the Island created by erosion of soft Cretaceous rocks. It leads from the cliff top to approximately halfway down the cliff face above Chale Bay. It’s now dry and the river bed can be seen heading back uphill to the cliff edge. It’s believed that William Walpen took his name from the Chine because he appeared out of nowhere and nobody can trace his lineage or history prior to 1835.’
Horton couldn’t see how this was relevant to the case, but it had to be. ‘Go on,’ he urged.
‘Walpen was a rough sort of man, blustery, big, tough, but extremely wealthy and generous. No one knew where his wealth came from and there were several stories surrounding it. One was that he’d been a fisherman and had made a huge fortune from smuggling, the other that he’d come from a wreck off Walpen Chine, looting from it gold and jewellery. But if he’d been a local fisherman someone would have known him and there is no wreck of that period that ties in with Walpen’s appearance. So the other theory is that Walpen broke away from a ship off Chale Bay, escaping with stolen jewels and gold, and there is a possibility that the ship was one of a fleet of packet steamers provided by Louis Philippe for Charles X on his flight from France for England in August 1830. It’s known that Charles X brought valuables with him to pay for his new life in England.’
Several ideas were swimming around Horton’s head but he shelved them for the moment to concentrate on what more Williams had to tell him.
‘Walpen began to invest his money in building projects and most specifically in the boom in building in Ventnor as it became a health resort. In 1844 he married the wealthy daughter of a landowner. She inherited when her father died, only to die a year later in 1856, childless, making William Walpen even wealthier. He then married a woman thirty years younger than him, in 1862, Mary, who after many miscarriages and stillbirths finally produced a son, Elliott, in 1872, dying herself in childbirth. William didn’t remarry but put his energies into his business which now included shipping, hotels and land. He died in 1893 leaving it all to Elliott, then aged twenty-one. But Elliott, with a good education and a quick brain, was an even better businessman than his father. He also got heavily involved in Cowes Week and indulged his passion for yacht racing and the America’s Cup and was a keen astronomer. He married Julia in 1905, but she died in 1914, so, like his father before him, Elliot remarried a young woman, Lisa, in 1920, who produced Sarah Walpen in 1921. Elliot died in 1935 and his wife in 1955. Sarah took herself off to America in 1957 and that was the last anyone heard of her.’
Thoughts hurtled through Horton’s mind. So much added up: sailing. . Cowes Week. . the Raoul Dufy painting. . astronomy. . Hazleton’s telescope. . the Thea Porter dress that Yately had been wearing when his body had been found, possibly purchased in America, and in 1976 Sarah Walpen would have been fifty-five and within the age range Dr Adams had said the buyer of the dress might have been. But none of these were evidence of why Yately was killed.
Williams said, ‘Sarah Walpen must have died in the States and I’m not aware that she ever married. The line died out with her and I told Mr Yately this.’
‘How did he seem when you told him?’ asked Horton eagerly.
Williams considered this for several moments. ‘Satisfied. Yes, that’s how I’d describe it. And possibly even triumphant.’
At last Horton was beginning to feel a little triumphant himself. His visit here hadn’t been a waste of time, on the contrary it had given him the key to the case and that key was Sarah Walpen. Colin Yately had discovered, or had had an idea about what had happened to her. Horton did too.
When he ascertained that Ian Williams could contribute no more to the case, Horton quickly and warmly thanked him and hurried outside, where he drove a short distance away before calling Uckfield. Quickly, he gave the Super a potted summary of what Williams had told him, ending with, ‘We need to find out if Sarah Walpen died in the States, but it’s my belief she didn’t. I think she returned to the Isle of Wight and Hazleton killed her and stole her possessions to fund his lifestyle. I think Sarah Walpen arranged to buy a house here, the place of her birth. She asked Wallingford and Chandler to act for her in the purchase of the property. They did, or rather Arthur Lisle did. On her return Hazleton struck up a friendship with her, before killing her and stealing from her so he could buy that big house on the cliff top and retire from Wallingford and Chandler to live the life of a gentleman. When Yately began his passion for local history he discovered the Walpens and was curious to trace the last of the line, Sarah. He mentioned it to his new friend who shared the same interest, Arthur Lisle, and Lisle recalled acting on the property purchase for Sarah. He couldn’t remember what property she’d purchased, hence his request to see the archives files.’
‘But there’s no Sarah Walpen named in that file,’ protested Uckfield.
‘Exactly, because Hazleton, as office manager, never filed the papers. And he erased all trace of her from the office records, so it was never entered on the computer.’
‘And when Lisle discovered this he called on Hazleton,’ interjected Uckfield excitedly.
‘Yes, but initially without mentioning Sarah Walpen. Remember Lisle checked the files two weeks ago, a week after Yately had consulted Ian Williams for the third time. I think Lisle bided his time, doing further research with Yately, until he was certain about Sarah Walpen. Then last week Lisle must have told Hazleton that he and Yately knew the truth. Hazleton must have fobbed them both off, saying he’d confess, and then lured Yately to meet him in the bay beneath his house where he killed him.’
‘Could he have the strength for that?’
‘Dr Clayton says that Hazleton was very fit and strong for his age and he could have surprised Yately. He knocked him out and then bound and gagged him.’ But there were still things that didn’t add up. He thought back to Dr Clayton’s report on Colin Yately’s death. He’d been tied up and almost drowned until the poor man had given his tormentor the information he wanted. Horton suspected that the information was what was contained in his historical notes about the Walpens. Could Hazleton have been physically capable of that? There were other anomalies too.
Frowning, he added, ‘I know that doesn’t account for Yately wearing what I think must have been one of Sarah Walpen’s dresses. Hazleton would hardly have wanted to draw attention to that, unless it was some kind of sick joke. And it doesn’t explain how Yately ended up in the Solent when Hazleton didn’t have a boat.’
‘Lisle had one though,’ said Uckfield. ‘Perhaps Hazleton persuaded or bribed Lisle to keep quiet about it. But Lisle then realizes he’ll be at Hazleton’s mercy, he collects all the evidence from Yately’s flat, i.e. the notes, visits Hazleton and kills him. Then he kills himself, unable to live with what he’s done.’
It made some kind of sense, but Horton still wasn’t sure.
Uckfield added, ‘I’ll get Trueman working on this Sarah Walpen. We’ve no sightings of Lisle for the weekend between Yately’s death and his showing up at Yately’s apartment, so perhaps he was hiding out at Hazleton’s house and that was when the guilt set in.’
Horton thought of those blows that had killed Hazleton. Could Arthur Lisle have inflicted them? People were capable of all sorts of terrible things when desperate, angry or provoked.
Uckfield continued, ‘We’ve got a sighting of Yately, but it’s for the wrong time. It’s the Monday before he was killed. He travelled to Southampton on the hi-speed Red Jet. Bought his ticket by cash, but one of the staff there recognized him. She’s been interviewed and it seems genuine but I can’t see how that helps us.’
And neither could Horton.
Uckfield said, ‘He probably went to do some sightseeing. Apparently he was carrying a briefcase and camera.’
‘I didn’t see either in Yately’s apartment, not on my first visit or our second one.’
There was a minute pause before Uckfield said curtly, ‘I’ll check with Taylor.’
Horton knew Taylor would confirm that neither had been in the flat, and Horton didn’t recall the witness mentioning Lisle carrying them. Lisle might already have put them in his car before returning to Yately’s flat when the witness had seen him. Or he could have put both in the briefcase, unless Yately had taken them with him when he’d met his killer. And why would he do that? Because the briefcase and camera contained something that would incriminate the killer in the death of Sarah Walpen. Horton’s pulse quickened. And if that were so, then had Yately gone to Southampton on the Monday before his death to collect and photograph the final piece of evidence? What was it? Horton needed to think and there was one place to do it: Victor Hazleton’s house.
When he reached it, there was no sign of the patrol car or Oliver Vernon. He must have finished his cataloguing and been taken to the Hovercraft terminal. Perhaps the sight of the bank of fog Horton could see out to sea beyond a RIB had persuaded Vernon to call it a day, and time was getting on. Horton checked the house; it was securely locked but he recalled Vernon’s advice about removing the valuable items. They’d have to see to that tonight.
As he crossed Hazleton’s garden, Horton’s thoughts returned to Colin Yately and his trip to Southampton. If Yately had been on the Sarah Walpen trail then what had taken him to Southampton? The city might not have been his final destination. He could have caught the train to London.
Horton stood at the top of the cliff path as his mind raced with possibilities. If he was correct in thinking that Sarah Walpen was returning to the Isle of Wight where she’d purchased a property through Wallingford and Chandler, then how would she have been travelling? By aeroplane? The city of Southampton had an airport but it didn’t take transatlantic flights, not even now when it was a bloody sight bigger than it had been when she must have returned. And they didn’t know exactly when that was, but it had to be before Victor Hazleton had retired prematurely early in 1986, when he’d suddenly had enough money to live like a gentleman, and most probably after October 1980, when Arthur Lisle thought he’d handled the property conveyance. But Southampton, like Portsmouth, did have a port and the Southampton port, then as now, took the big cruise liners. With excitement Horton recalled the book he’d seen on the table in Arthur Lisle’s dining room on British passenger ships. Now, Horton knew exactly where Colin Yately had been visiting on the Monday before his death: the headquarters of the company owning the cruise ships which sailed from Southampton.
He reached for his phone. Uckfield was engaged. Horton called Cantelli. After bringing him up to speed, he said, ‘Contact the shipping company headquarters in Southampton and find out if Sarah Walpen was a passenger on any of their liners sailing into Southampton in the period from October 1980 to December 1985. If so, which one? Find out when it docked and if Sarah Walpen disembarked.’
‘Surely she must have done, otherwise she’d have been reported missing.’
Horton knew she hadn’t been. Rapidly thinking, he said, ‘Then Hazleton must have met her at her house and killed her there.’
He turned and stared at Hazleton’s house. Into his mind drifted a fragment of the interview with the Walkers. He was always coming back with something he’d picked up at some market or antique shop. Or rather, Horton thought, picked up from Sarah Walpen’s house, which meant it had to be close by, because it was the reason why Hazleton had fed those false stories to the police all these years about smugglers and illegal immigrants. It was a bluff. Hazleton didn’t want the police to investigate. On the contrary he wanted everyone to think he was a crank, because that way he could come and go as he pleased and he could steal from Sarah Walpen’s house without anyone knowing about it. That was until Colin Yately had turned up. And Horton thought he knew exactly where Sarah Walpen’s house had to be.