Missing in London

By Rita Lee Chapman

Book #3 in the Anna Davies Mystery Series

Arthur Hambledon, Anna’s best-selling author, has just finished his latest book which he says “will raise some eyebrows.” Then Arthur disappears, along with the manuscript.

Anna Davies is working in London as a Senior Editor for a respected Publishing Company. When her most famous author goes missing, Anna is determined to find out what happened to him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rita Lee Chapman
• Release date: Aug 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463886533

Rita Lee Chapman

Rita Lee Chapman was born in the UK and migrated to Australia in her early twenties. It was only when she retired to the Sunshine Coast in Queensland that she wrote her first novel “Missing in Egypt” Book 1 in the Anna Davies Mystery Series.“This fulfilled a lifelong ambition for me. In primary school I wrote long stories but since then my writing had been restricted to business correspondence, press releases and letters home to my family!Missing at Sea, is Book 2 in the Anna Davies Mystery Series and Book 3 is Missing in London.Winston - A Horse's Tale is the story of an Australian horse, Winston, told by himself. It tells of his adventures and experiences as well as those of other horses he meets along life's way. It was the book I had to write and is for all horse lovers from teenagers upwards.Dangerous Associations and The Poinciana Tree are crime mysteries."For more information on Rita and her books visit her website at www.ritaleechapman.com

Book preview

Missing in London

An Anna Davies Mystery

Rita Lee Chapman

Missing in London©

Copyright Rita Chapman 2017

Published by R. Chapman

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Also by Rita Lee Chapman

Anna Davies Mystery Series

Book #1 Missing in Egypt

Book #2 Missing at Sea

Winston – A Horse’s Tale

Dangerous Associations

Dedicated to my beloved Father

William John Lee

1918-1992

Who taught me about life, compassion and unconditional love.

I shall pass through this world but once. Any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being, let me do it now.

Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.

Chapter One

An Author Goes Missing

It seems even colder in London this winter, I thought, as I made my way to work beneath another grey sky. The bitter, icy wind that blows nearly every day was getting me down, creeping into my bones through my thick coat, woollen scarf and warmest jumper, chilling me to the core. I had never become accustomed to the winters – wasn’t even a big fan of the English summer, which could be lovely one day and rainy and cold the next. The first time it snowed I was enchanted, it was truly beautiful and turned everything into a winter wonderland. After a few days of trudging through it and the inconvenience of closed roads and buses that failed to arrive, I became less enchanted and when it turned to sludge and ice, I was less than impressed. I found myself yearning for Australia, the land of my birth, where the sun shone nearly every day and where summer days were filled with endless sunshine and blue skies.

Then I thought of Mike, my husband, and I braced myself against the wind and imagined the warmth of his body next to mine, tucked up under the duvet in our king-size bed and I immediately felt warmer. It was for Mike that I strove bravely to deal with the English weather, the horrendous traffic and the still-existent class distinctions. On a proper summer’s day, sitting in a beautiful garden outside a quintessential English pub, I could even admit to enjoying being in London. I was homesick, I realised that; I had been away from Australia for too long. Mike and I had returned for a holiday twice, which was wonderful, but each time I left I found myself longing to return permanently, wishing fervently that Mike would have enjoyed our holiday so much that he would suggest we move to Australia to live. It wasn’t happening. The pull of his two boys, whom I also love deeply, was keeping his feet firmly planted in the United Kingdom. Simon, now twenty-four and James, twenty-six, were grown men but the rapport between Mike and his sons was a pull much stronger than sunshine.

I pushed open the heavy glass door and stepped into the office of Grant & Sons, Publishers. A warm cocoon of heat enveloped me and I sighed gratefully. At least the office was comfortable! I loved working here, I reminded myself. I would really miss my work and my colleagues if I returned to Australia. I had worked at Grant & Sons in Holborn ever since I arrived in London and had made my way up from Editorial Assistant to Editor and now Senior Editor. I had my own clients, some of them quite well known authors and I loved the socialising, the challenge of signing a new author and of course, reading, so why wouldn’t I be happy here?

The office was buzzing when I walked in. Several secretaries were huddled around the reception desk – something was happening!

Morning, girls, I called out as I approached. What’s going on?

Oh, Anna. You’ve arrived. It’s your author, Arthur Hambledon. He’s disappeared. No-one can find him! Susan, my PA, exclaimed.

Arthur? Are you sure? I only spoke to him a few days ago.

Oh yes, quite sure. The police are here, waiting to speak to you. They’re in your office.

My mind was racing as I walked towards my tiny office. I could see the door was open and two large policemen almost filled the inside space. There wasn’t much room normally with the desk, two visitors’ chairs and my overflowing bookcase.

Hello, I said as I squeezed past them. What’s this about Arthur Hambledon?

Good morning, Ms Davies. I’m Detective Constable Gary Hunt and this is Constable John Perry. We wanted to ask you a couple of questions about Arthur Hambledon.

Please call me Anna. Let’s move to one of the meeting rooms, it’s a bit cramped in here.

They followed me down the hallway to the largest of the meeting rooms.

Would you like some coffee? I asked.

No thank you. We won’t keep you long. We just need to ask you if you can tell us anything about Mr Hambledon’s disappearance, Detective Constable Gary Hunt replied.

Disappearance? He seemed fine when I spoke to him earlier in the week. He was all fired up about his latest book and we were to meet in a couple of weeks to discuss the contract.

So he didn’t say anything about going away for a few days or taking a holiday? Constable Perry asked.

No, nothing at all. I would have been most surprised actually, because he had finished his first draft and my understanding was that he was keen to complete it.

I could see the young Constable making notes in his notebook. He was heavily built, with a moustache and brown, curly hair down to his collar. His big hands looked awkward with a pen, I thought idly, as if they were more used to grabbing someone by the shoulders and pushing them into a police van.

Who reported him missing? I asked him.

His daughter, Elise, Detective Constable Hunt replied. She lives with him apparently and she became concerned when he didn’t come home on Tuesday night. She said he never stays out later than ten o’clock without ringing her and he had given her to believe that he would be home in time to eat with her on that day.

I nodded. I had met Elise several times and knew that she was devoted to her father. She and her husband, Eric, had moved in with him after a business they were involved with had collapsed and they lost their own home. Arthur had confided to me on more than one occasion that he was so pleased they were living with him. He said that Elise took good care of him and the house and that he had been very lonely since his wife, Lynn, died a few years previously.

When he still hadn’t come home by the next morning she contacted us, Detective Constable Hunt continued. It was too soon then to do much about it but now that he has been missing for more than two days we are starting to look into it. Make sure there’s no foul play involved.

I shuddered. I’d experienced more than my fair share of foul play during my lifetime and I didn’t want to know about any more plots and disappearances.

Do you know what his book was about, Anna?

Yes, vaguely. It was an exposé.

Political? Detective Constable Hunt asked, raising his left eyebrow. He was a man in his early fifties, I gauged, with a close haircut that revealed greying hairs and larger than usual ears. His hazel eyes were shrewd but kind.

No, definitely not political. Nothing to do with big business either. It was more of a family saga I believe.

Do you know which family he was writing about? he asked.

"No, I don’t. He was going to give me all the details when we met up in a couple of weeks’ time, so that I could then have the contract drawn up. His books are all best-sellers, of course, so there was no doubt about us taking it. I expect you’ve read some

of his work?"

They both shook their heads.

Well, he’s hugely popular and we are happy to take whatever he writes. They always sell. That’s why I hadn’t pressed him for too many details.

His laptop and a file have disappeared too. It looked like there had been a break-in the afternoon of the day he went missing. We had a quick look in his office but we didn’t find any manuscripts or notes. His daughter is having a thorough search now and she’ll let us know if she finds any of his work or can give us any idea who the story was about. It could have been pure fiction, I suppose.

No, I replied. He told me it was based on a true story and that it was going to raise a few eyebrows when it came out.

Has he written this sort of thing before? the Constable asked.

No, that’s why it was all a bit strange. He’s always written pure fiction before. He said something about how he had stumbled on it when he was doing some research for ‘Time for Reflection’ and the idea kept nagging away at him. Something to do with dementia I think. Eventually he decided to follow it up and see where it went and he said the result was quite surprising.

Well, thank you very much Anna. You’ve been very helpful, Detective Constable Hunt said as he stood up and moved towards the door.

If you think of anything else that could help us, or if you should hear from Arthur, please get in touch with us. Here’s my card. He handed me his business card with his office and mobile phone number on it.

Yes, of course, I will, I responded as I walked them back to reception.

Thank you for your time. Goodbye for now.

You will let me know what you find out about my author, won’t you? I called out as they opened the front door.

Yes, Ma’am. We’ll keep you in the loop.

I walked through to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. As I sat in my office drinking it I thought about Arthur Hambledon. How long had I been his publisher? At least five years now. He was my first major client after I was made a Senior Editor. Now in his late sixties, Arthur had been writing best sellers for nearly twenty years. His huge fan base was insatiable, eagerly awaiting his new novel, which he usually completed in time for Christmas each year. A solid man, with grey hair which he wore fairly long in an effort to cover his receding hairline, he could occasionally be grumpy but more often than not he was very amicable. I remembered the last time I had seen him, about six months ago. Arthur and I kept in touch quite regularly and I had visited his home on a couple of occasions for a drink and chat about his latest novel. His house in Clapham, near the Common, was a typical country cottage, with low ceilings, huge beams and a large open fireplace. The perfect house for a writer, I thought.

I remembered him sitting in his leather recliner, a small whisky in his hand as he stretched out his long legs and regaled me with stories he had thought about writing, ideas which he had dismissed and people he wanted to capture on paper. His brown eyes sparkled as he spoke, he was so full of life and stories yet to be told. It was at this meeting that he confided to me that he was breaking from his usual mould of crime stories this time. His next book was to be based on a true story, something he had come across purely accidentally. The idea had been growing inside his head for some time and he had finally decided it was a story that had to be told.

It’s going to raise some eyebrows, this one, he informed me. Yes, yes indeed. There are going to be some real surprises when this is published!

When I asked him to elaborate he would only tell me that it was about a fairly well-known family – not overly famous or wealthy, but well-known nevertheless. He said he wanted to re-write a couple of chapters before he divulged any further details but he would let me know more shortly. A couple of weeks later he rang to say he was happy with the way the book was coming along and earlier this week he confirmed to me that he had finished the first draft.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this book had something to do with his disappearance – or if he had gone somewhere to check a few facts, or even to clear his head. He could have been so fixated on the story that he had overlooked telling Elise he was going away. I needed to talk to Elise. I rang her and arranged to see her that afternoon.

In the meantime…. there were plenty of other things to keep me busy, including a new author who was coming in to see me this morning. She had sent me the first few chapters of her book about a safari adventure in South Africa and I was keen to sign her to Grant & Sons. We were always looking for romance and action writers and this book promised both.

Chapter Two

Where is Arthur Hambledon?

Elise welcomed me warmly and took me into the lounge where I had last met with Arthur. A fire was burning in the grate and sent flickers of orange light across the beige carpet. The leather recliner in which Arthur usually sat looked more worn than I remembered – sort of sad. Eric was sitting in the chair on the other side of the fireplace and rose to greet me.

I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you, I said as I slipped out of my coat. The police came around to the office this morning to say that Arthur seems to have disappeared and naturally I wanted to talk to you.

It’s very good of you to come, Anna, Elise responded. The more people looking for him, the better. We don’t know where to look any more.

I could see that she was deeply worried and close to tears as she spoke. It was evident that she loved her father deeply and was very worried about him.

It’s completely out of character for him, Eric said. He would never worry Elise like this. Something must have happened to him. Maybe he had a fall and hit his head and has amnesia.

Why don’t you tell me about it from the beginning, I suggested.

Would you like a cup of tea or coffee first? Elise asked.

"Yes, please. I’d love a coffee. White, no sugar,

thanks. It’s so cold outside."

It has been a cold winter, Eric agreed, making

small talk whilst Elise bustled about in the kitchen.

When we were all sipping our piping hot coffee, Eric told me what they knew.

Arthur seemed quite normal Tuesday morning over breakfast. After I left for work, he told Elise he was going to the races but that he would have his meal with her that evening. Most Tuesday evenings he goes over to his friend, Ralph’s, for a game of chess and when he does that they order in a pizza. I seem to remember him saying that Ralph has his grandson visiting this week so he would miss out on his chess. He was looking forward to going to the races – they don’t have very many midweek ones nowadays.

When I came home from work and he wasn’t here, I started to make our meal, thinking he would be home any minute, Elise said, taking up the story. Then when he didn’t turn up, I assumed Ralph had rung him to ask him over after all. I was a bit annoyed actually because I had taken more trouble with the meal than I would if I’d be eating on my own. Eric is working afternoon shift this week, so he eats at work. After I’d washed up I walked past his study and heard the window banging. I went in to shut it thinking that Dad must have forgotten to close it when he went out. That was when I noticed his laptop was missing. I wondered if he had taken it with him or if someone had broken in and stolen it. I closed the window and went to look around the house to see if anything else was missing, but everything seemed to be fine. Later in the evening I started to wonder if something had happened to Dad when the thief broke in.

I came home around eleven and Elise was in a right state, Eric continued. Her Dad never stays out later than ten. I rang Ralph to see what time he had left and he told me he hadn’t seen Arthur. His grandson was visiting and they had cancelled their chess night. Not long after that it started to snow and then we were both worried. I didn’t know what to do. We went to bed but neither of us could sleep and a bit after midnight I rang the local police station to see if they had heard of any accidents and at the same time I reported the missing laptop. They took Arthur’s description and said they would let us know if they heard anything, otherwise they would send someone out to see if they could get any fingerprints and that we should put in a missing person’s report in a couple of days’ time if Arthur still hadn’t come home. They suggested I try the local hospitals, so I rang both of them but they didn’t have anyone there unidentified or by the name of Arthur Hambledon. In the end we went back to bed and tried to sleep but we spent most of the night listening out for his key in the lock, but he never came home.

The next morning we rang around his friends to see if anyone had heard from him, but as no-one had we went down to the police station and filled out a missing person’s report, said Elise. They asked me if I’d noticed anything unusual in the weeks before. I told them he was very quiet when he came home from the races the last time he went. He’d locked himself away in his study all the next day and at the time I thought he was writing and didn’t want to be disturbed. But he was very thoughtful for a couple of days after that. I asked him if he was okay and he smiled and said he was fine but it seemed like he was worrying about something. The police didn’t want to take the report, they said it was too soon, but we knew that something was wrong.

Erick picked up the story. What I hadn’t told Elise was that Arthur had been threatened about his book.

I gasped. Arthur hadn’t mentioned that to me either.

Arthur didn’t want Elise to know, so she wouldn’t worry, but he mentioned it to me. He was quite upset. He wouldn’t say who had threatened him but it had been at the races and it was about the book he was writing. He didn’t know whether to take it seriously or not. I told the police this and they made a note of it.

Since then, we’ve just been waiting, Elise said, crying softly. Eric had to go to work but I couldn’t. Even though it’s only part-time, I want to be here when he comes home, you see.

Yes, I can understand that, I replied. I would too. Did the police come and take fingerprints?

Elise nodded and Eric said They sent a couple of officers around to the house to look through his study and bedroom. I told them he was a writer and I showed them his books on the shelves in the study. They asked Elise if she knew if he was working on anything at the moment and she said that he was and that you were his publisher. They asked if there were any copies of his manuscript or file notes. That’s when we realised there was no file on his latest book. That’s why the police would have come around to talk to you, Anna, but we’re still no closer to knowing where he is. They didn’t think it was very likely they would find whoever took the laptop. It’s usually kids apparently, especially since the window had been left open. Opportunistic they said, but it was odd that nothing else was taken, unless they were disturbed by something out in the street. They think it is far more likely Arthur took it with him.

He wouldn’t do this to me, Elise added. I know he wouldn’t. I hate to think that he could by lying somewhere unable to move, first in the snow and now in all this rain.

You don’t think he was so caught up in this new book that he’s wandered off somewhere and forgotten about everything else? I asked.

Oh no, Elise exclaimed. "Not Dad. Oh, he could be a little bit forgetful when was writing, but not like this. There is no way he wouldn’t have rung me if he could. Nor would he have gone off, like that detective suggested, to work in peace. This was his home. The police even had the nerve to suggest that Dad might have caught a train into the middle of London to meet a woman! Not my Dad - and he certainly wouldn’t have gone away anywhere without telling