Ten

'I was sorry to hear about Mr Halliwell's death,' Charles Nansen said, gesturing them into comfortable leather and chrome seats around a table in the large barn which had been converted into offices. Through the tall windows overlooking the garden and fields, Horton caught a glimpse of the sea in the distance. The other walls of the barn were taken up with large well-executed photographs of wines and of the man seated in front of them, well built, dark-haired, with a beard, deep brown eyes, about mid forty. In most of the photographs he was accompanied by two other men, one of a similar age, the other about ten years older, and a dark-haired woman in her early forties. Nansen's dog, a brown Labrador, took up position by his master's side.

'You knew Mr Halliwell?' Horton asked hopefully. At last someone who could tell them what the living man was like.

'Not exactly,' came the disappointing reply. 'He purchased some wines from us. Not rare and vintage wines, like some of those in his excellent cellar, but nevertheless some of superb quality.'

'Then I take it the two bottles you valued at ten thousand pounds each is not a misprint?'

Nansen smiled. 'No. They're probably worth even more than that.'

Cantelli shook his head in bewilderment.

'The Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, or DRC as collectors like to call it, with the vintage of 1978, is one of the most coveted and expensive French pinot noirs there is. In 2015, one bottle alone was sold at auction by Sothebys for twenty thousand dollars.'

Cantelli spluttered and turned it into a cough.

Horton said, 'Do know how he acquired them?'

Nansen picked at his beard. 'No, and that's the sad and puzzling thing, because Mr Chilcott couldn't find any provenance for any of the wines.'

'And without this provenance the wine is worth less money?'

'It will put off the serious investors, but there will still be plenty of buyers who will purchase them, as well as other vintage and excellent wines in his cellar for laying down, or for the pleasure of drinking.'

'How did Mr Halliwell order his wines from you?' According to Chilcott, Halliwell hadn't a computer or a phone, although he had liaised with the seller of the boat by phone.

'He turned up here. He only came once, in January. We talked about wines, and I showed him around, then he placed an order, which we delivered.'

'To Beachwood House?'

'Did he take delivery himself?'

'I believe so. Tim Jennings, who delivered the wine, will know more about that.' Charles Nansen looked a little perplexed.

Horton would speak to Jennings. 'What made Mr Halliwell come to you?'

'He'd heard of our reputation and said that, as he had only recently taken up residence on the island, he thought he'd check us out.'

That sounded reasonable. 'How did he get here?' Horton asked. This place was hardly on a regular bus route. The narrow road leading down to it was off the beaten track, surrounded by fields and rolling hills. And Halliwell didn't have a car or a licence to drive a hired one.

'He came by taxi and asked the driver to wait.'

It would probably be easy to track down the taxi company and its driver on the island, but Horton suspected that Halliwell would have confided nothing.

Nansen continued, 'Mr Halliwell told me that he'd been working abroad most of his life and wanted to settle down here. He had an aversion to crowds and wanted peace and quiet.'

'Did he say what he used to do for a living?'

'No. I assumed some kind of financier or stockbroker, not that I had any reason to make that kind of assumption but, judging by the wines he purchased from us and those I found in his cellar, he must have had considerable wealth.'

'Do you know who fitted out the cellar for him?'

'Yes. There was no mistaking it when I saw it and, even if I hadn't recognized the design and build, the name is engraved on some of the wooden shelving.'

Horton hadn't looked. He should have done.

'Simply Cellars. They're based in London.'

Horton didn't think there was anything simple about the cellar he'd seen.

Nansen said, 'They're a reputable and experienced company with an impressive clientele. The owner, Dudley Coppens, is a Master of Wine, as am I.'

'Have you spoken to them about Mr Halliwell?'

'Only briefly. I told Dudley that Mr Halliwell had been found dead on his boat. Is there something suspicious about it? Only I thought he died of natural causes,' he finally asked, looking worried.

'As far as we are aware, he did. There are just some questions we need to ask about the cellar. Do you know when it was built?'

'Just over a year ago. Dudley said they didn't deal with Mr Halliwell directly; the house was empty. They liaised through the architect, Gary Redcar.'

In that case there was probably little, if anything, Dudley Coppens could tell them about Halliwell, but the architect would be a different matter. Horton asked Nansen if he knew Redcar's contact details. He didn't, but Horton could easily get them from the Royal Institute of British Architects.

Nansen said, 'I must admit I was taken aback when I saw Beachwood House. The inside is totally different from the outside, but it does bear out the fact that Mr Halliwell was keen not to attract too much attention to himself. And that marvellous piano, a Yamaha Grand. Well, he never said anything about being a pianist, or a music lover, but then we only talked about wine. I couldn't resist playing it.' Nansen looked wistful.

Nansen's prints would be on the keyboard as well as in the cellar, but they could easily get a copy of them to eliminate him from the investigation. Horton doubted if Halliwell's fingerprints had been taken or recorded for the autopsy, it not being a forensic one, but that didn't matter too much. It was the prints of the landslip corpse and if they showed up in the house or in Ben's cabin that interested Horton. The fingerprint bureau was probably checking out the latter now, having received the victim's prints from Gaye.

Nansen was saying, 'At one time I harboured the dream of becoming a concert pianist, but I lacked the spark and perhaps the dedication and commitment to become one. It played like a dream.'

'How did Mr Halliwell pay you?' Cantelli asked.

'By bank transfer. An account in Guernsey. Morgans Bank.'

'And he spent how much?'

'Just over three thousand pounds.'

'For one order?' Cantelli's jaw dropped.

There was a small silence. The dog looked up and whined.

Horton said, 'Can you describe Mr Halliwell to us?'

Nansen looked bewildered by the question but answered, 'About six foot, medium build, grey thinning hair, receding at the temples, grey eyes, tanned as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. Mid-sixties. He looked fit and well, so it was something of a shock when I learned from Peter Chilcott that he'd died.'

'Why did Chilcott call you? I know you must have an excellent reputation on the island,' Horton added, 'but there must be other wine merchants.'

'There are, but we're the only one that handles the high end of the market, and Peter, seeing the quality of the cellar and therefore the wines, naturally thought of us. He'd also have seen our label on a couple of the crates in the cellar.'

'Of course.' Horton paused. Nansen smiled uneasily. After a moment, Horton said, 'Can you describe Mr Halliwell's personality?'

Nansen considered this for a moment as he ruffled the dog's ear. 'He struck me as a man at ease with his own company.'

'No. Confident. Someone who knew himself and was comfortable with that.'

Not many like that, thought Horton. But then perhaps Halliwell had come to terms with himself if he'd been told that a heart attack could see him off at any time. Horton asked if Halliwell had seemed well in himself. The answer was he had.

'Did he talk about his boat?'

'No. As I said, our conversation was solely about wines. That's all I can tell you about him, Inspector. I'm sorry I can't be of more help.'

But Horton could sense there was something more and that Nansen was reluctant to confide it. He thought he'd probe a little. 'You seem uncertain about that, Mr Nansen.'

Nansen's deep brown eyes shifted from Horton to Cantelli, and then back to Horton. He picked at his beard seeming to consider his next words. After a moment he said uneasily, 'When I discovered there was no paperwork for the extremely rare wines, such as the Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, I wondered how he had acquired them. And now, with your visit here asking about him, I'm considering something that struck me when I was valuing the wines which I thought couldn't be possible.'

Horton quickly caught on, and he knew Cantelli would too. 'You think they might have been stolen.'

Nansen shifted. 'I wondered if he had bought them from a dubious source.'

Horton digested this. It was possible. 'Would we be able to trace the ownership of such valuable wines?'

'You could liaise with the major auctioneers, find out which wines had gone under the hammer and when. They would keep records, but these wines might not have gone to auction. They could have been sold privately.'

Horton's picture of the late Cedric Halliwell as a possible criminal was reinforced by Nansen's information.

'Did anyone else in your company deal with Mr Halliwell?' Horton asked, eyeing the photographs. 'Except for Mr Jennings who delivered the order there.'

Following his gaze, Nansen said, 'Tim Jennings is the older man in the picture. My twin brother, Alec, is our mainland rep., so he combines sales visits with deliveries on the mainland. He's not here very often and didn't meet Mr Halliwell. Neither did Shirley, my wife. She manages the website, marketing and accounts.'

'We'd like to talk to Mr Jennings, if he's here?'

'He is. I'll find him, and he can also show you around.' Nansen rose, the dog with him.

'And if you could let us have details of when Mr Halliwell visited you, and a record of the wines he purchased, that would be most helpful.'

'Of course. I'll print them off for you while you talk to Tim.'

Nansen disappeared with the dog in tow.

Cantelli said, 'Nansen's probably gone to prime Jennings on what to say.'

'You think he's holding something back?'

Horton did, but he was puzzled over what it could be and said as much.

Cantelli said, 'Perhaps Halliwell confided something to Nansen that he feels he can't divulge. Such as where that expensive and rare wine really came from.'

'Or perhaps Nansen helped himself to some of it while doing the cataloguing. How do we know what was there? You remove a bottle and there's no trace of it, especially if you dust under and round it, unlike a picture which will leave a slightly faded and marked spot on the wall.'