Sixteen

Three hours later, Horton, along with Cantelli, Bliss, Uckfield and Trueman were assembled in the incident suite. After the call from the bureau, Bliss had hotfooted it to Uckfield, and Trueman had been charged to get what he could on Michael Paignton from the case file, while Horton had read online all the press reports he could find on the trial and the obituaries on the murder victim, Roger Salcombe. He'd also called Inspector Guilbert in Guernsey and asked him to check for any records on a Michael Paignton. Guilbert said he was still awaiting information from the solicitors, Selwyns, who had handled the purchase of Beachwood House. He could confirm the bank account at Morgans in Halliwell's name, but he couldn't get a physical description of Halliwell from them. So far they'd drawn a blank on property owned by Halliwell, but he would continue enquiries and check out any registered in the name of Michael Paignton.

Horton now studied the photograph that Trueman had obtained from the case file and printed off. It was of a young man with fair features, wide frightened eyes and an angular jaw. He'd seen pictures of Paignton in the press reports but those had been taken so many years ago that it was difficult to see if he fitted the description of either of the two Halliwells. He said as much.

'He might be neither,' Uckfield grunted, mopping his brow with a large handkerchief. Horton thought the Super looked worse than he had that morning.

'His fingerprints are all over the house, and too many to have been merely a visitor. They're also on the boat. He has to be one of the Halliwells.'

Bliss said, 'Were any of his prints found in Ben's cabin?'

'No. And Ben's weren't found in Beachwood House. Neither did those I lifted match the prints of the landslip corpse, which Dr Clayton managed to obtain and sent over to the bureau. However, a more thorough examination of the house might find some and possibly hairs we could get DNA from.' Would Uckfield authorize that, Horton wondered?

Uckfield said, 'What do we know about Paignton?'

A fair amount, thought Horton. And what he had discovered had disturbed him. He'd learned with a shock that Paignton had been a student at the London School of Economics in 1967, the same time as Jennifer and the others in the photograph, and what's more, Paignton had been involved with the Radical Student Alliance. He must have known Jennifer. And he must have known Antony Dormand, Rory Mortimer, Zachary Benham, Timothy Wilson, James Royston and Gordon and Richard Eames. Horton's mind had raced at this new connection. How did the landslip corpse fit in, though? Who was he?

Horton was growing more convinced that this investigation had something to do with the men in that photograph of 1967, and with Jennifer's disappearance in 1978, and it wasn't simply an obsessive delusion. He felt a mixture of unease and excitement, along with a creeping sensation of foreboding. He wasn't, of course, going to mention any of this. He needed to see where this led first and even then, he debated whether he'd mention it. Maybe he wouldn't be given the chance to keep it quiet though. Any new developments in the investigation could take the matter out of his hands. A thought that filled him with dread. The last thing he wanted was his personal life paraded for all to examine. He put his full attention on Trueman while mentally holding his breath, waiting to see if the sergeant had uncovered anything he hadn't already read in the press reports.

'Michael Paignton was sentenced to twenty-two years for the murder of Roger Salcombe who was found stabbed in his flat in Kensington on 13 February 1970. Paignton was discovered crouching beside the body, holding a knife, covered in blood and out of his head on LSD. He served twenty years and was released early in 1990. There is no record of what happened to him after that. He hasn't paid UK tax or national insurance. He's never claimed benefits, and he doesn't show up on any electoral roll. He could have changed his name, left the country, or died and his body has never been identified, because there is no record of his death having been registered.'

'Which it wouldn't have been if he is the Cedric Halliwell found dead on the boat,' said Horton.

'Or the Halliwell with the scarred hand,' Bliss ventured.

Cantelli said, 'The Halliwell with the scarred hand could have been killed by Paignton or Ben and his body dumped at sea.'

'Hence the rapid purchase of the boat,' Horton added. 'But it being moored in Bembridge Marina would mean they'd have to transport the body there, which they could have done by using the boat in front of Ben's cabin. That has a powerful engine, and it's planed to make it go even faster,' he explained to Cantelli and Bliss's baffled looks. 'Or perhaps Ben and Paignton used it to dispose of Halliwell's body. Ben lived in the cabin and by all accounts led a simple life, but that doesn't mean he was simple.'

Trueman said, 'Why not live in the big house? Seems a funny place to shove your relatives and buddies, in a cabin on the beach.'

'Depends on what they're like.' Horton thought of his ex-in-laws. They would have certainly preferred to shove him in a cabin and as far away from their daughter and grandchild as was possible. 'Ben might have insisted on living there. Paignton knew he was there. You can see the cabin quite clearly from the study window in Beachwood House and right down into the bay through the binoculars. The two men knew each other. I'm certain of that.'

'Alright, let's get back to the point,' growled Uckfield. 'What have we got on Salcombe, the murder victim?'

Horton answered, 'From the press reports and obituaries, it's clear the case and subsequent trial caused a sensation because Salcombe was an eminent plastic surgeon. He was born in 1920 and was studying medicine when war broke out. He volunteered to work with the burns unit and was sent to Queen Victoria Hospital, East Grinstead in Sussex, thirty miles from London. A Plastic Surgery and Burns Unit had been established there in anticipation of expected air raids on a colossal scale and a mass influx of wounded servicemen. He worked there with the finest plastic surgeons in the world. After the war, he returned to his medical studies, continuing to specialize in burns and became one of the leading specialists in his field. At the time of his death he worked both within the National Health Service and as a private consultant with a clinic on Harley Street. He came from a wealthy Dorset family. His father was in the diplomatic service, his mother the daughter of a large engineering component manufacturer based in Yorkshire, who left her a considerable fortune. He was educated at Harrow and Cambridge.'

'And Michael Paignton's background?' asked Bliss.

'The only son of a bus driver and a machinist from the East End of London. His father was a Japanese prisoner-of-war who died in 1948, a year after Michael was born. He was raised by his mother who died the year Paignton went to the London School of Economics in 1967 to study politics.'

Two of the men in Horton's picture from 1967, Rory Mortimer and Zachary Benham, had also been studying politics. And there was also the fact that Salcombe had been a burns specialist and Zachary Benham had perished in a fire – or had he? Ben had scarring on his back, which could have been caused by burns, and the Halliwell who had met the architect and Coppens of Simply Cellars had scarring on his hands, which again could have been the result of a burn.

Cantelli said, 'So Paignton didn't have any family to help him when he came out of prison in 1990?'

'No.' And by then no friends either, thought Horton. If those six men in the 1967 photograph had been his friends. If the sixth man was Gordon Eames and not his brother, Richard, then all of them had died by the time of Paignton's release. Paignton might have known Richard Eames, but Horton couldn't see his Lordship helping an ex-convict. But Paignton had made for the Isle of Wight, his fingerprints were testimony to that, and it was where Eames had a property. It was also where Dormand had been posing as a monk at the abbey, and where Ben had been working on carving that bench seat, not to mention living in the log cabin beneath Beachwood House. Horton tried to tell himself to keep an open mind, but he was silently searching for more links in the chain he was mentally forging.

Trueman took up the story, 'Paignton had a previous conviction for criminal damage, while protesting with the Radical Student Alliance against the Vietnam War. There's no mention of any female or male partners, and nothing to indicate that Salcombe and Paignton were in a relationship. Paignton was twenty-seven years younger than Salcombe. The prosecution claimed Paignton went to Salcombe for money to buy drugs, and when Salcombe refused, he killed him.'

'How did they know one another?' Cantelli asked.

Horton relayed what he'd learned from the newspaper reports. 'The two men met in a pub and struck up a friendship. It was reported that Salcombe, after befriending the younger man, had been exploited by him, Paignton being a ruthless drug addict. But that could just be media talk. The truth could be miles away from that.'

Trueman interjected, 'I haven't got the trial notes but Paignton's statement in the case file says he met Salcombe in The Green Man in Wapping, long since demolished. The landlord said he'd seen Michael Paignton in the pub a few times, but he couldn't swear as to seeing Roger Salcombe there.'

'Hardly sounds like Salcombe's type of place,' said Uckfield.

Horton silently agreed. 'From the press reports it says that no one from Paignton's family and none of his friends were called to testify as to his character because his barrister thought it might prejudice his case further.'

Uckfield said, 'Either that or he knew Paignton was guilty and couldn't be bothered.'

'Paignton doesn't seem to have had a very good defence team,' Horton said, suspicions running round his head.

Cantelli said, 'Did he appeal?'

'Not as far as I can see from the press reports.'

'And not according to the case file,' added Trueman.

Why not, wondered Horton? Perhaps he simply gave up or his brain was too scrambled to think of it. 'Why didn't he get parole?' he asked.

Trueman answered, 'Because he always claimed he was innocent and he showed no remorse for what he'd done. His record of criminal damage didn't come out until after the verdict, but we all know a clever barrister can raise it and, once hinted at, even if it is struck off, it's firmly planted in the jury's mind.'

Horton said, 'And Paignton being a radical student probably didn't strike too sympathetic a figure in the box.'

'He did kill Salcombe,' Uckfield stressed.

'Did he though?' challenged Horton. 'Maybe he was framed.' The more he heard the less Horton liked this.

'Why?' snapped Uckfield.

'And by whom?' added Bliss.

'If I had the answer to both questions, we might be able to close the current investigation into the murder of the landslip corpse,' Horton smartly re-joined. There was a moment's silence in which Bliss opened her mouth to retort, then closed it. He continued, 'In 1970 the crime scene wouldn't have been as carefully preserved as it is now, and perhaps the real killer, if there was one other than Michael Paignton, was clever. He'd have had ample time to clean up after himself and incriminate Paignton, who was out of his mind on LSD.' And Horton thought of someone else who had been psychotic and so out of his mind on LSD that he had ended up being committed to a psychiatric hospital, where he had allegedly perished along with twenty three other men in a fire, Zachary Benham. 'Who called the police?'

Trueman answered, 'A friend of Salcombe's, George Patterlee, who was worried when Salcombe didn't show up for a meal that night as arranged. He called round just after eleven p.m., found the apartment door unlocked, Paignton crouching on the floor, spaced out, and beside him, the bloody figure of Salcombe. Paignton had the knife in his hand, he was covered with blood consistent with the stabbing.'

Bliss said, 'How did he get the LSD? Was he a habitual user?'

'He had no record of any drugs offence, and he claimed he had never taken any. The medical examination after his arrest confirmed that he wasn't a heroin addict, but it couldn't confirm whether or not he'd imbibed other drugs.'

Horton felt uneasy. This had the smell of a fit up. Surely he couldn't be the only one to see this? Did Uckfield scent it? If so, he showed no sign of it, though he was grimacing but not, Horton thought, because of the facts Trueman was laying before them. Uckfield was in pain.

Trueman said, 'The autopsy on Salcombe showed he wasn't a drug user and hadn't taken LSD or any other drug the night he died. Alcohol was found in his blood and two bottles of whisky at the scene of the crime were empty. One of the glasses had Paignton's prints on it, the other Salcombe's. Paignton couldn't say where he had got the drug. He firmly believed his drink was spiked, but no trace of a drug was found in either glass.'

No, it wouldn't have been. Someone had cleaned the scene, Horton could feel it in his gut. But why frame Paignton? Had he got on the wrong side of someone powerful? Had he discovered something dangerous? What though? Or was Paignton the scapegoat because Salcombe had to be eliminated? Salcombe was the one who knew too much, an eminent plastic surgeon… a specialist in burns… a fire at a psychiatric hospital two years before his death…

A cold shudder crept up Horton's spine. Was Salcombe's death the work of Antony Dormand, the man who had confessed to being a paid assassin? Had Dormand recently tracked Paignton to the Isle of Wight and killed him because Paignton knew the truth about that fire? But, no, Dormand couldn't have done; he died in October, three months before Halliwell had been found dead on his boat and before the landslip corpse had been killed. But as Cantelli had said, Halliwell with the scarred hand could have been killed any time before October and his body ditched at sea. Or perhaps Dormand hadn't died on that stormy night and had returned to kill. The flaw in that though was the fingerprints, Paignton's, which had been all over the house. That indicated that he had been living there more recently, and certainly after Dormand had taken out to sea. So the odds were that Halliwell, found dead on the boat on 1 February, had in reality been Paignton.

Bliss said, 'So Michael Paignton on his release from prison, left the country and assumed another name, Cedric Halliwell. He subsequently made a fortune, possibly illegally or by mixing with dubious company, lived in the Cayman Islands, had a bank account and solicitor in Guernsey, and then decided to buy a property on the Isle of Wight. Only he ended up dead on that boat. Someone from his past caught up with him.'

Trueman continued, 'Paignton couldn't remember what he had done or how he had got to Salcombe's apartment. No taxi driver came forward. A witness, Mrs Rosemary Shergold, saw Paignton entering the apartment at nine fifteen in the evening. There isn't a concierge service, or there wasn't in 1970, and neither was there a lift attendant. No one else in the apartment block saw Paignton or anyone else enter or leave at around that time. Rosemary Shergold had taken particular notice of Paignton because he didn't look the type who would normally be calling on anyone in the select apartments. He was, according to her statement, scruffily dressed and unshaven. He had a wild look about the eyes. He got in the lift, didn't speak to her and got out on the floor below. She saw him press the bell to Roger Salcombe's flat. She hadn't seen Paignton before. She heard raised voices at about nine forty-five but couldn't hear what was being said. She said that she had never heard a raised voice until that night, and neither had she seen anyone else visit Salcombe's apartment. She couldn't swear to the fact that it was Salcombe's voice and she hadn't heard Paignton speak. No one else in the apartments heard the argument. The owners of the apartment below Salcombe's were away, so there was only the apartment above his, which was Mrs Shergold's. She'd never had any cause to complain to Salcombe. He was a quiet, polite and distinguished gentleman. She knew he was an eminent plastic surgeon. She'd met him a few times in the lift and in the lobby, and they'd exchanged the usual greetings and spoken about the weather. She used to hear him playing the piano–'

'The piano?' Horton repeated sharply, causing everyone to look at him.

Cantelli knew he was thinking about the expensive Yamaha piano in Beachwood House. But lots of people had pianos and some of them expensive ones. He asked Trueman if Paignton was a pianist.

'There's no mention of it in the case notes or his prison file, but then he'd hardly have been allowed to play a piano while inside.'

Cantelli said, 'He could have picked it up again after his release and bought that piano in Beachwood House. Walters is still working on tracing that.'

Trueman continued, 'The counsel for the prosecution was led by Sir Barry Drummond, a notable and respected barrister. He died eight years ago.'

Horton added, 'I read in the press that Salcombe's parents were dead. He had no brothers or sisters and he'd never married. He left his estate, which was considerable, to a medical research charity and the rehabilitation of victims of burns.' And Paignton had left his body to medical science.

Trueman said, 'Paignton was found guilty by a unanimous verdict and sentenced to twenty-two years.'

Cantelli said, 'What kind of weapon was used to kill Salcombe?'

'A serrated kitchen knife.'

'Who visited Paignton in prison?' asked Horton.

'Only those from the prison visiting system.'

Horton frowned as he considered this. It seemed unusual. His student friends had deserted him then.

'He spent most of his time in Parkhurst on the Isle of Wight after being transferred from Wormwood where he served the first three years of his sentence.'

'Why was he transferred?' asked Bliss.

'He was attacked and wounded in a fight at Wormwood, not of his instigation. The assault was vicious. No knives. Fists and feet. Paignton was hospitalized but we're not allowed access to his medical records, and even if we could get them under the Access to Health Records Act of 1990, we can only get information after 1991. After he was moved to Parkhurst, he was a model prisoner. Quiet, reserved, intelligent, did what he was told, took any opportunity he could to study, and he helped other prisoners with literacy skills. He was released on the 4 March 1990.'

'And finally returned to the live on the Isle of Wight, a place where he had spent seventeen years incarcerated,' mused Horton. 'Now that we know there were two Cedric Halliwells and one of them was Michael Paignton, it might make proving that will tricky. I'd like to re-interview Halliwell's executor, Chilcott, and break the news to him that his client is not who he thought he was. He also needs to be questioned about Halliwell's possessions, especially what happened to the Tag Heuer watch. We shall need access to all the paperwork he extracted from Beachwood House, although I can't see him handing them over without a warrant.'