A Killing Coast

Perhaps there had been someone nearby or behind Horton who had caught Glenn’s attention. And Horton swiftly recalled what Cantelli had told him: Glenn had joined the Merchant Navy in 1968, working on cargo ships and tankers, joining Carnival Cruises in 1978 until 1981. Then he’d re-emerged in the UK in 1985 with enough money to buy up a chain of hotels. Where had that money come from? Not from a merchant seaman’s pay.

Horton put the strands together as he rushed towards the shore. Was it possible that Glenn had met Sarah Walpen, killed her and stolen from her? And he’d come here because someone had threatened to expose his secret, a secret that Colin Yately and Arthur Lisle had discovered from their research and been killed because of it. Glenn could have killed them, and he could also have killed Victor Hazleton because Victor Hazleton could identify him, but who had killed Glenn? Clearly someone else who knew the secret, and that person could have been who Glenn had seen behind Horton on the boardwalk.

The sound of the engine trying to start again ripped through the air, slicing into Horton’s thoughts. He had only minutes to reach the RIB before the murderer disappeared into the fog. Sprinting towards where he hoped the cliff was, his mind teemed with thoughts. Glenn would never have come here alone. Lloyd went everywhere with Glenn, so PC Johns had said, which meant that Lloyd must be the killer and Horton’s assailant. But if Glenn had come here alone then there was only one person it could be trying to start the boat’s engine.

With relief he hit the cliff top and scrambled down to the shore. Glenn’s killer froze.

‘Give it up, Vernon,’ Horton said, stepping forward.

Oliver Vernon brought the gun up and levelled it at Horton.

Horton stiffened but made every attempt to keep his voice even as he said, ‘Perhaps you didn’t mean to kill Russell Glenn. Perhaps it was an accident. The gun went off in the darkness of the house. Perhaps it was self- defence.’ Horton eased another two steps forward, the fog muffling his voice and making it sound taut and strangled even to his ears. How convenient for Vernon to have been on the Island, brought here at Horton’s request. No patrol car had dropped him back to the Hover terminal; Oliver Vernon had seized the chance of the fog and being here, working for the police, to make his move. He must have called Glenn and asked him to meet him at the old Walpen house, bringing with him payment for his silence, and Horton was beginning to see what that payment might be.

Vernon’s fair bearded face was deathly pale. The hand holding the gun trembled slightly.

Horton continued, while slowly easing forward. The cold sea lapped at his shoes. ‘Glenn came here at your request but he intended to kill you. You didn’t expect that. You struggled, got the gun from him and it went off. Was that how it was?’

There was a moment’s fragile silence. The sound of a distant foghorn seeped through the mist. Then Vernon spoke. ‘I didn’t know he’d have a gun. That wasn’t part of the plan.’

No. Horton saw it all clearly. Incredulous, he said, ‘You didn’t think a man like Glenn would let you steal from him?’ But clearly Vernon had. Horton recollected from the few photographs of Glenn that Walters had printed off, and from what he’d seen of Glenn on the deck of the superyacht, his dishevelled appearance, gold-rimmed spectacles and distracted bewildered air, but there had been that one photograph capturing Glenn unaware which had shown a different man. The shambolic Glenn was an act, designed, Horton reckoned, to disguise a razor-sharp brain and a ruthless mind. Glenn must have fooled a great many people in his time. Had he fooled Avril? Somehow Horton doubted it.

‘What was it Glenn had that you wanted? A piece of jewellery?’ Horton stalled; again something tugged at the back of his mind, but now was not the time to examine it. He recalled what Ian Williams had told him, that William Walpen had emerged on the scene out of nowhere, and wealthy. ‘Was it a ring? A brooch? A necklace? Ah, a necklace,’ Horton added at Vernon’s startled look. ‘And it belonged to Sarah Walpen.’

‘You know about it?’ Vernon answered, surprised.

‘Let me see if I’ve got this right.’ Horton stepped a little closer, while he considered how to get the gun away from Vernon without either of them getting injured or killed. ‘Glenn met wealthy Sarah Walpen on a Carnival cruise liner where he was working as a deckhand and discovered she had no living relatives and a great deal of money. He killed her and stole her money, forging her signature and taking her jewellery, including this valuable necklace, and other items, to kick start his business and his fortune. He discovered that the necklace was different from the rest of the jewellery he’d stolen from Sarah and he couldn’t sell it for fear of it being traced, but as you told me, Oliver, there are people who will buy things no questions asked, and who don’t care how they’ve been obtained.’

Horton moved a half step nearer. His feet were frozen but that was the least of his concerns. He tried to see the make of the weapon pointed at him. How many rounds were left in the barrel? How could he get it off Vernon before getting a bullet in the head like Glenn?

He continued. ‘Victor Hazleton worked for the legal firm who had handled Sarah Walpen’s affairs. When Hazleton realized she was not returning he began to plunder her estate, selling off her valuable items to fund his lifestyle. But he couldn’t do it all at once or through one auction house on the Island because it would look too suspicious, so he took trips to the mainland to dispose of the antiques and valuables through various auction houses, claiming he’d lost the original paperwork or found the item in his grandmother’s attic or some such story. Then he showed up at Landrams where you were working, and with a piece of jewellery that Glenn hadn’t stolen from Sarah Walpen, perhaps because she’d been wearing it at the time of her death.’ And if she had been then her body must be in that derelict house, thought Horton. He didn’t know yet how Glenn had killed Sarah, or disposed of her body, but that would hopefully come later if he could get the gun away from Vernon without it going off.

Vernon said, ‘It was a ring. When I examined it I could hardly believe what I was seeing. It was part of a reputed missing collection of jewels, which had been brought to England by Charles X when he fled into exile from France in 1830.’

And that fitted exactly with what Ian Williams had told Horton. He kept his eyes fixed on Vernon’s face. The gun was still pointing at him but it was as if Vernon was no longer aware it was in his hand.

Excitedly, Vernon continued. ‘The Esmeraude Collection belonged to a former lover of Charles X given to her by him. Its diamonds were set in silver, and the emeralds set in gold, and it was designed and executed by the French Royal Jewellers Jacques-Evrard and Christophe-Frederic Bapst in 1819, the same time as a tiara worn by the daughter-in-law of Charles X, Marie-Therese.’

Vernon’s voice was growing more excited, and although the gun was still levelled at Horton he hoped in Vernon’s agitation it might waver for a moment and let him take his chance. The fog oozed around them. Horton listened intently to Vernon while edging his way minutely forward and looking for his chance.

‘Because the tiara was made with materials provided by the state, Marie-Therese returned it to the treasury when she came to England with her husband, and her uncle and father-in-law, Charles X. Charles though was rumoured to have brought with him the Esmeraude Collection, said to comprise a necklace, a comb, a pair of drop earrings, a ring, a pair of bracelets, a brooch and a belt clasp.’

The cold sea lapped gently at Horton’s ankles. He kept his steady gaze fixed on Vernon standing in the rear of the RIB above him.

‘Charles claimed the jewellery had been stolen but many believed he had hidden it to prevent it being used to pay off his debtors in England. I had a private client who would jump at the chance to add the ring to his collection, so I bought it on the client’s behalf from Hazleton privately. He had no idea of its true worth and I got it for a song, although Hazleton was pleased with the amount he got. I wondered if he had the rest of the missing collection but I didn’t want to alert him of its value. I told him that I would help him sell any other items, no questions asked, and that it would save him having to travel to the mainland and all the hassle of having the things valued and authenticated. At first he didn’t like giving me a small commission, but I convinced him I could get him more money selling privately and he was soon on board. I used to visit him at night. I didn’t want anyone to see me and sometimes I’d come by boat into the bay. I’d hire a RIB. It wasn’t often, twice a year, three times maximum. I knew he lived alone. But although I tried to pump him he wouldn’t say how he had got hold of the ring or the other items. I did some research on the old man and discovered that he’d worked for a legal firm on the Island. He’d never been abroad so he must have come across the ring here and that fitted with the collection possibly having been lost at sea when Charles X was sailing past these waters, although nothing in the archive showed a shipwreck, which made me think someone had stolen the collection and swum ashore.’

And Horton knew that must have been William Walpen, or whatever his real name had been, and they’d probably never know that. He said, ‘And then you discovered that Russell Glenn had the Esmeraude Necklace.’