A Killing Coast (31 page)

Horton wished they could shove the gruesome pictures of Lisle’s decomposing body under the solicitor’s nose; maybe they would if Chandler decided to continue with his denials. It might shock him into telling the truth.

Grimly, Horton continued, ‘You killed Lisle, but Hazleton was on one of his little nocturnal jaunts and saw you. That suited you fine. You killed him, stuffed him in the boot of Lisle’s car and drove it to Chale Bay where you ditched it, hoping that we would believe Lisle had done so and then killed himself. You live not far from there.’ He recalled what Cantelli had said:
Chandler lives in a large country manor house at Kingston
, and that wasn’t far from Chale Bay.
‘You walked home that night. We’ll check with your family, of course.’

Uckfield stepped forward. Brusquely he said, ‘You’d better make that call.’

Chandler took a deep breath. ‘There’s been some mistake.’

Horton saw that he’d finally shaken him. Good. He hoped the smug bastard would be shaken a great deal more by the time they’d finished.

‘Tell that to your lawyer,’ Horton snapped, rising.

Uckfield went out into the corridor and called in the uniformed officers waiting there.

Slowly Chandler rose. ‘Victor Hazleton was a snob and a horrible little man. He’d take every chance to rub my nose in the fact he had more money than me. Him, a mere clerk!’

‘That was no reason to kill him,’ snarled Uckfield, as one of the officers took Chandler’s arm.

‘Wasn’t it?’ snapped Chandler. ‘I wasn’t going to have everything I’ve worked for, and my father worked for, brought down by him and his filthy dishonesty. I wasn’t going to let him ruin my practice and my son’s future, not to mention my family’s name.’

‘No, you’ve done that yourself,’ Horton said tightly, as Chandler was led away.

‘Pompous prat,’ Uckfield pronounced after him.

And a ruthless killer; a man who thought he could destroy lives and get away with it, thought Horton.

‘Good result,’ Uckfield rubbed his hands. ‘And we’ve beaten Wonder Boy’s deadline.’ He reached for his phone.

‘There’s Avril Glenn.’

‘Shit. No one’s told her about her husband.’

‘I’ll do that. I know her.’

‘You never said,’ Uckfield said, startled.

‘I’d like to do it before the charity reception tonight.’

‘Christ, I’d forgotten about that. I heard the Chief’s going to it. I’d better come with you.’

‘He won’t be there until later. Might be better though if you called him and briefed him.’

Uckfield brightened at that. A malicious gleam spread across his face. Horton knew what he was thinking. It would be one in the eye for Dean. ‘I’ll do it on the ferry.’

The cold evening air helped to clear Horton’s thumping head. It had been a long day and it wasn’t over yet. ‘What about interviewing Chandler?’ he asked.

‘Tomorrow will do when his brief shows up. Let him stew in a cell overnight. I’ll get him shipped back to the mainland for the questioning and a confession.’

If he’ll make one, thought Horton, heading for the ferry. And even if he didn’t Trueman and the team would dig up the evidence and check Chandler’s movements. And they would show him photographs of Lisle’s body. Horton spared a sorrowful thought for Rachel Salter and for Hannah Yately, before his mind switched to his forthcoming meeting with Avril and the unpleasant task that lay ahead.

TWENTY-THREE

H
orton waved his ID at the security guards at the marina office at the top of the pontoon. There were three more than usual and two of them were coppers who tried to avoid his gaze. He headed down to Russell Glenn’s superyacht. Lights blazed from every porthole but there were no guests on board yet. The reception wasn’t due to start for another hour. He’d just managed to catch a ferry, leaving a no doubt fuming Uckfield at the terminal, kicking his heels, or rather cursing vehemently, while waiting for the next sailing. He was glad. He wanted to be alone with Avril when he broke the news.

Climbing on board he didn’t need to show his ID to Walters. ‘Where’s Lloyd?’ he asked.

‘Not sure, haven’t seen him for hours. Mr Danby’s with the skipper, up there?’ Walters jerked his head towards the flybridge. Good. Horton hoped he’d stay there. ‘Not come to fetch me, Guv, have you?’ Walters asked warily.

‘Why would I want you?’

‘Dunno. Good bit of extra money this, wouldn’t want to lose it.’

‘I think you might have to.’ Walters’ face fell, but before he could comment Horton pushed open the glass doors and stepped into the gleaming luxurious lounge where the smell of new leather, mahogany furniture and deep-pile wool carpets greeted him. Beyond it he could catch the faint aroma of food that was no doubt being prepared for the reception. The steward was behind a bar in the far right-hand corner setting out bottles of champagne in ice buckets. He asked Horton to wait while he fetched Mrs Glenn. Horton crossed to the seaward windows and gazed across the harbour at Gosport beyond. It had grown dark. The lights of the harbour and the tower blocks behind it glinted down on them. It made him think about his own childhood gazing across a brightly lit city from the eighteenth floor of their council flat to the dark sea beyond, watching the lights of the boats slowly cross a black horizon with a panicky feeling that he’d be encased in the tower for ever. The memory startled him. The thought that he was alone, afraid and imprisoned caught at his breath and tightened his chest, but before he could explore his feelings the door behind him opened and he spun round to see Avril smiling. She was exquisitely dressed in an expensive, figure-hugging aquamarine-blue evening dress, and immaculately made-up. Her blonde hair shone and her pale-blue eyes greeted him with a friendly smile. It made his heart lurch but this time with disappointment, not excitement or lust.

‘Andy, what a surprise,’ she said, moving forward to greet him when his solemn expression stalled her.

‘Can you leave us, please.’ Horton addressed the steward.

Avril frowned and nodded.

In the silence that followed Horton heard the engines of a boat heading into the harbour. Part of him wished he were on it.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Before he could speak, she added, ‘It’s Russell. Something’s happened to him. He’s had an accident.’ Her complexion paled. ‘That’s what you’ve come to tell me.’ Her worried blue eyes scoured his face. ‘He went out ages ago on the RIB. He should have been back by now but then the fog came in. I assumed he’d moored up somewhere.’

‘He’s dead, Avril,’ he announced bluntly.

‘Dead! But how—’

‘Oliver Vernon killed him.’

‘Oliver! No. I don’t understand . . .’ she stammered, sinking down on one of the leather seats.

‘He claims it was an accident and that Glenn had a gun and intended killing him, rather than letting him have the necklace.’

‘Necklace? What necklace?’ Her eyes widened.

Was her surprise genuine? He didn’t think so. ‘The one you told him Glenn had. Sarah Walpen’s necklace.’

‘Who’s Sarah Walpen?’ she asked him, bewildered.

Horton steeled himself to continue. ‘Perhaps you don’t know about its origins, and perhaps Oliver tricked you, but you knew Russell had the necklace and Oliver told you he had found a buyer for it, one who would pay a considerable amount of money, enough for you to leave Glenn.’

She opened her mouth to speak then decided not to. Instead she shook her head.

Horton continued. ‘This buyer or his representative was to come here tonight and collect it while everyone’s attention was focused on the auction.’ And that was who the Intelligence Directorate were after. ‘What was the plan, Avril? That the necklace would be passed to this buyer but that Glenn would be found dead in his study the next morning? And with lots of police officers around as security, including me at the auction, to say it couldn’t possibly have been you or Oliver Vernon. But then I unwittingly gave you and Oliver a better plan by calling Oliver in as valuer. Oliver seized his chance to demand that Glenn meet him with the necklace, otherwise he’d tell everyone at the auction how Glenn had made his millions. The fog made it perfect. Oliver could kill Glenn, take the necklace and everyone would think that Glenn had got lost in the fog, had an accident and had been killed. His body would have rotted in that old house just as Sarah Walpen’s has.’

She stared at him, her forehead creased in a deep frown, but he wasn’t fooled.

‘But your husband was never going to submit to blackmail. Surely you must have known that?’ And he saw that she did. Oh, clever Avril. He’d forgotten how clever.

Whether something in his expression betrayed his thoughts or she sensed them, he didn’t know, but she rose and crossed to the bar. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is such a terrible shock.’ She poured a drink, but with a steady hand.

Horton continued. ‘You used the necklace, and probably expressions of undying love to Oliver, to trick him into blackmailing Glenn, knowing that Glenn would go armed and that Oliver would have to kill him, or at least that’s how you planned it. You didn’t care about Oliver, the necklace or your husband but you do care about wealth. Russell Glenn would never have divorced you because he loved you or rather, I should say, he saw you as a beautiful thing he wanted to possess, and, as Vernon told me, Glenn loved owning beautiful things.’ Horton knew he was correct by the tiny flicker in her eyes. ‘And Glenn does not give up his assets easily. He had you trapped, Avril, and, as you said in the bar on Monday night, you hate traps. But once you were in this one you found it difficult to escape. Not only because you’d grown so accustomed to wealth, but because you were afraid. Glenn might have fooled many by that dishevelled appearance and absentminded act but behind it was a ruthless man, and one who had killed at least once that we know of, and he probably used Lloyd to kill for him when and if it was demanded. Lloyd was also to make sure that Glenn knew exactly where you were and what you were doing every minute of the day and night when Glenn couldn’t be there. Your husband was possessive and extremely jealous.’ Horton saw he’d got that right.

‘You wanted Glenn’s wealth and you wanted him dead. Well, you’ve got it, Avril. Congratulations. It was convenient that Colin Yately and Arthur Lisle stumbled on Sarah Walpen at the right time, adding weight to the blackmail. Convenient for you but unfortunate for them.’

‘I’ve never heard of those men.’

‘But you know Oliver dressed the corpse of one of them in one of Sarah’s dresses to make your husband believe the blackmailer meant business.’

She shook her head, looking bewildered, and sipped her drink. Horton hadn’t expected her to play the full grieving widow bit, not yet and not in front of him; that performance would come later.

He said, ‘You told Russell the same story you told me, that you wanted to stop over in Portsmouth and see it for the last time, and make amends for deserting your mother with a fund-raising reception. Russell agreed because he knew that you were planning something, but he didn’t know what. Oliver Vernon had discovered the background to the missing necklace and Sarah Walpen’s house on the Isle of Wight, and for your plan to work you needed to be close by, because when Glenn would be found dead in his cabin, you could reveal that he was being blackmailed but you didn’t know why, leaving the police to think his blackmailer had inadvertently killed him in a struggle.’

She swallowed her drink and nursed the empty glass, taking it with her as she returned to her seat, looking confused and bereft, but Horton knew it was an act. Equally, he knew it would fool everyone except him. And if Vernon kept quiet about their collusion, as Horton was inclined to believe he would, then Avril would be OK. And even if Vernon didn’t, Avril would deny that she knew her husband had left to meet him, and she’d certainly deny that she knew Glenn would take a gun. With the best lawyers, which she would certainly have, Avril would be in the clear. She might have plotted to steal her husband’s necklace and break away from him, but that was all. And even then she could probably bring evidence to say he was a hard, ruthless man.

After a moment, she said, ‘I know nothing about Oliver killing Russell. Russell was often moody but I loved him, and Oliver was rather infatuated with me. But I’d never have left Russell and I certainly didn’t want my husband dead.’

And that was the story she would stick to. There was nothing more to be said except for one thing.

‘Where’s Lloyd?’

She blinked. ‘Around somewhere, seeing to the security arrangements, I guess.’

‘I don’t think so. In fact, I think you’ll find he’s gone.’

She frowned. ‘Gone? Didn’t he leave with Russell?’

‘You know he didn’t. Why didn’t Glenn take Lloyd with him to meet Oliver?’A point that had gnawed at Horton ever since he’d discovered Glenn’s body and found Oliver Vernon trying to start the RIB.

‘I don’t know.’

Horton studied her closely. Maybe she didn’t. Or maybe she didn’t know the
real
reason, just that Oliver Vernon had told Russell Glenn that he had to be alone when handing over the necklace. Normally Glenn would have ignored that advice and taken Lloyd with him anyway, but this time he didn’t. Why? Because Glenn couldn’t find Lloyd. Lloyd had already cleared out.

‘Goodbye, Avril.’

She made no attempt to stop him. He felt both disappointed and relieved. A weaker woman would have begged him to stay, pleaded that he must understand how much she had hated or loved or feared her husband, made up all sorts of stories as to why she couldn’t have wanted him dead or the reverse, but Avril held her nerve to the last. It was nothing more than he had anticipated. The Avrils of the world, like him, had been brought up the hard way. You quickly learnt that silence was often your only weapon.

His heart was heavy at the thought of Avril’s deceit and even heavier at the idea she had colluded in the murder of her husband. What would she have done if Russell Glenn had killed Oliver Vernon? Tried again in some other way to rid herself of her rich husband, most probably.

Climbing on his Harley, he saw the Wightlink ferry easing its way into its narrow berth. Uckfield would be on it. He, along with Uniform, would no doubt meet the new Chief Constable at Oyster Quays and head for Russell Glenn’s yacht, where they would find a distraught widow.