Murder in Steeple Martin (27 page)

Libby sat thinking for a bit.

‘David didn’t know about James’s alibi,’ she said eventually.

‘So?’

‘Well, I got the impression that he was mostly concerned about James being thought guilty.’

‘James is family. He would be.’

‘
Thought
guilty. Not actually guilty.’

‘Same thing.’

Libby shook her head. ‘No, there’s something … I just can’t put my finger on it.’

‘Come on. Your children will be waiting for you in the pub,’ said Peter, standing up.

Libby sighed, nodded and put out her cigarette.

All the way to the pub, and throughout the cheerful catching up conversation with her offspring, something niggled at the back of her mind. Ben didn’t appear, so either he hadn’t returned or Gregory hadn’t given him her message. It wasn’t until she’d waved the children off in their ramshackle cars that she was able to sit down and think about everything that had happened since last night and rewind the conversation with David from this morning. She was positive something he’d said had given her a clue, but try as she might she couldn’t think what it was. Had he talked about the incidents? Well, of course he had, he’d said Millie couldn’t have done them. She couldn’t have climbed up that ladder to cut the steel wire, and she couldn’t have clambered underneath the bridge, nor sawn through the planks, and only someone who knew everything about the production and the photographer’s visit could have done either.

So who? No one outside the cast and crew and their intimates. Did she include James in that circle? Yes, he was Peter’s brother, but Paula’s intimate? Would she have told him everything about the production and the publicity? No, because it wasn’t until after the fiasco with the roof that she had told James she was pregnant. So it was someone with a connection to Paula, and it had to be someone they already knew about. Someone who knew about the incidents, when the details hadn’t been broadcast by anyone. Especially the details of the sabotaged bridge.

Libby began to come to an appalling conclusion.

Chapter Thirty-two

S
HE HAD NO IDEA
what to do next. Her legs seemed to have turned to water, and she was aware of part of her brain being furious at the disruption of her precious last night. Although, of course, that could go ahead without any of the players in their own particular little tragedy.

Shakily, she stood up. She didn’t know whether she should phone the police, which seemed rather presumptuous, and who would listen to her, anyway? Who could she tell? If this really was a detective story, she would go and confront the villain, but in real life all she would get was a denial – and there was always the possibility that she was wrong – or she would be putting her head metaphorically into the lion’s mouth. She always got cross when the stupid females did that.

David. Why hadn’t she seen it before? He knew all about Paula’s murder, about the incidents, and he’d tried to deny knowing anything about the bedspread. He’d even admitted she’d made a pass at him. Was it his baby? And telling her about Millie’s inability to cause the incidents at the theatre was so obviously to send her off on the trail of someone else. The only thing Libby couldn’t understand was why he’d picked on her to talk to.

So, what was the answer? Ignore it? How on earth was she to do that? She shook her head, which felt as though it was full of cotton-wool. No, not cotton-wool, moths. Fluttering and beating their little wings against her scalp.

The phone rang. Libby looked at it in horror for so long that the answerphone picked it up.

‘Libby, it’s Fran.’

Libby snatched up the receiver. ‘Fran,’ she said shakily. ‘Thank God it’s you.’

‘What’s happened?’ said Fran sharply. ‘Are you all right? Have they … have they found out?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Libby, relieved, ‘but I think I have.’

‘Of course it was obvious once I put it all together,’ she said, after telling Fran how she’d come to her conclusion, ‘but I still don’t know why.’

‘I’m not entirely sure you’re right. Something doesn’t feel – anyway, it’s something to do with both James and Paula. I don’t know what. I tried to warn you.’

‘Yes, you did, I see that now. Why didn’t you tell me then?’

‘How could I? It was only one of my feelings, and everyone had been so dismissive of those – even you, in a way.’

‘Yes,’ sighed Libby, ‘I’m sorry. Anyway, what do I do now? It’s the last night party tonight.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about it. If you’ve worked it out, be sure the police have, and they’ve got all their sophisticated forensic stuff. There are bound to be traces.’

‘So I just carry on regardless? How will I do that? Everyone’s going to be there tonight. I can’t face them.’

‘Yes, you can. After all, the police have had plenty of time to do their tests. I expect they’ve got results now.’

‘Not from James’s DNA test. That was only done the day before yesterday. Don’t they take weeks?’

‘Not weeks. Anyway, that doesn’t matter now, does it?’

‘No, I suppose it doesn’t.’ Libby sighed again. ‘So you think I ought to let well alone?’

‘I do. Will you be all right? Do you want – no, I don’t suppose you do.’

‘Do I want you to come down? Yes, I do, but the family are going to close ranks on this, so perhaps not. I might come up to London next week, though. Stay with Belinda. I could see you then?’

‘Just ring me. Anytime. And now you’d better go and get ready for your big night out.’

How Libby got through the afternoon she had no idea. She let the answerphone pick up messages from Peter, Harry and Ben, none of which sounded as though there was anything wrong, so she guessed no arrest had been made, but when she arrived at the theatre none of them had arrived.

‘Libby?’ Stephen came up behind her.

‘Hi.’ Libby tried to smile. ‘All ready for the big night?’

‘Just about. How about you? You don’t look too happy.’

‘Well, no. It’s all this – you know – business.’

‘Paula business, or accidents business?’

‘Both,’ Libby sighed. ‘Pete’s mum didn’t cause the incidents, and I can’t think why we even considered that she had, really, so someone else did, and that person could well be the murderer. Unless it was the passing tramp theory.’

‘I’ve always hated that,’ said Stephen, perching on the edge of one of the little iron tables. ‘You always get it in TV mysteries, where the family and friends say it must have been an escaped convict or something.’

‘When it couldn’t possibly have been,’ Libby nodded, ‘absolutely. Anyway …’ Her voice trailed off as she realised what she was about to let slip.

‘Anyway? What? Don’t tell me you know who this person is?’

‘Of course not.’ Libby swallowed hard and tried another smile. ‘Oh, God, look at the time. I’d better get on.’

Quelling the now familiar churning in her stomach, Libby opened up the bar, wondering how she’d get on without a float, and fielded questions from the company as to the whereabouts of Peter. It was with relief that she saw Harry come through the glass doors just as the audience were going in to the auditorium, and then she saw his face.

She waited until the foyer was clear, went round the bar and put her arms round him.

‘Are they all right?’ she asked.

Harry held her away from him. ‘How did you know?’

‘I don’t really. I just saw your face,’ she said.

He sat down on a bar stool. ‘What a bloody mess,’ he said tiredly. ‘I can’t believe he’d do it.’

Libby stepped back and took a deep breath.

‘David,’ she said.

Harry looked up and nodded.

‘I worked it out,’ said Libby. ‘And he was the one who found the body – that’s always suspect, isn’t it?’

Harry rubbed a hand over his face and frowned. ‘You don’t know, then?’

‘Don’t know what, Harry? Has he been arrested?’

Harry’s face crumpled. ‘No, Lib. He’s dead.’

Libby felt the room spinning and sat down abruptly on a stool, gripping tightly to the edge of the bar counter.

‘Susan found him in the surgery,’ Harry went on. ‘He’d taken some kind of massive overdose. He didn’t go home for lunch, so she went looking for him.’

‘Oh, God.’ Libby put her hand to her mouth. ‘Was it after I saw him this morning?’

‘I don’t know. We knew you’d been there, so we all rang you this afternoon to see if he’d said where he might be. We thought he’d been called out to an emergency.’

‘My God, poor Susan. And Millie? Where’s Millie?’

‘James has taken her back to Steeple Farm. Susan’s gone to Hetty’s.’

‘Did he leave a note?’

‘I think so. Pete and Ben are at The Manor. I left Donna in charge at the caff.’ He stood up with an effort. ‘Come on, we’ve got a bar to run.’

Somehow, they got through the evening. To Libby’s surprise, Hetty’s food had been delivered, and once they had set it out and served the over-exuberant last night crowd, Libby quietly handed over the bar and theatre keys to Stephen, who took one look at her face and asked no questions.

‘Come back to ours,’ said Harry. ‘Pete’ll come back there, and at least we’ll know what’s going on. Unless you want to go home?’

‘No, I’ll come back with you,’ said Libby, shivering. ‘I couldn’t bear to be on my own and not know.’

It was after two o’clock when Peter came home, surprisingly followed by Ben. Harry poured them all large whiskies and when Libby offered to leave them, Ben came and sat on the arm of her chair.

‘No,’ he said, ‘you’ve been in on this since the beginning. It’s only right you should know all about it.’

‘She knew,’ said Harry. ‘She worked it out.’

‘Oh, not about the suicide,’ said Libby hastily, ‘but about David causing the accidents and – you know – Paula.’

Peter hadn’t said a word. Now he looked up, his face haggard. ‘He didn’t cause the accidents,’ he said.

Libby looked from Ben to Peter, then at Harry, who shrugged imperceptibly.

‘David was Paula’s father.’

Libby knew her mouth was hanging open, but didn’t seem to have the ability to shut it.

‘You remember we said there had been a rumour about him coming to the country to get away from a woman?’ Harry and Libby nodded. ‘Well, he did. Paula’s mum. Then, several years later, after he’d married Susan, she tracked him down.’

‘And moved here? What did she hope to gain by that? Did she think he would leave Susan for her?’ asked Libby, at last finding her voice.

‘No, I don’t think so. She merely wanted support for herself and her daughter. She wasn’t terribly healthy.’

‘Flo said she was delicate,’ murmured Libby.

‘So why did he kill himself?’ asked Harry. ‘Because she was pregnant? Did he know that?’

‘Oh, yes, he knew.’ Peter sounded grim.

‘Oh, God,’ gasped Libby. ‘It wasn’t his?’

‘No, that’s one sin he seems
not
to have committed,’ said Ben.

‘Eh?’ said Harry.

‘Incest,’ said Peter.

The silence hummed around them as the truth began to dawn on Libby and Harry.

‘James,’ said Harry at last.

Peter nodded. ‘Apparently my little brother is only my half-brother.’

‘Millie and he …’ Libby gulped. ‘And we joked.’

‘We were right. Remember I said my mum wasn’t too pleased when Susan married David? Well, when he first arrived they started an affair.’

‘David and Millie?’ Harry said disbelievingly.

Peter nodded. ‘Then he broke it off because he wanted to get married and settle down, but they resumed it later. It seems just as young Jamie turned up, so did Paula and her mother.’

‘But Paula didn’t know he was her father?’ said Libby.

‘Oh, she already knew he was her father. He told her that before she moved to London, after her mother died.’

‘He said she made a pass at him,’ said Libby.

‘I expect that’s why he told her,’ said Ben. ‘And from then on she had a hold over him.’

‘Is that why he killed her?’

They all looked at her with varying expressions of shock on their faces.

‘He didn’t kill her,’ said Ben.

Libby looked from one to another in confusion. ‘Then why did he kill himself? I thought …’

‘You got it wrong again, dearheart,’ said Peter, ‘or is this your friend Fran’s idea?’

‘No.’ Libby was blushing furiously now. ‘She said she didn’t feel it was entirely right.’

‘Well, bully for her.’ Peter swallowed the remainder of his whisky in one gulp and held it out to Harry, who took it silently and refilled it.

Ben put his arm round her shoulders. ‘David was an honourable man, and the thought of the pain he’d caused was eating away at him. She told him she was pregnant, and when he found her body he was convinced it would all come out.’

‘Well, he made sure of that, didn’t he?’

‘Why didn’t he tell James?’ asked Harry. ‘He had a right to know, if anyone did.’

‘Can you imagine going up to someone and saying “You know that girl you’ve just got pregnant? Well she’s your sister.” It’s like that old song,’ said Ben.

“
That girl is your sister but your mummy don’t know,”
muttered Libby.

‘Something like that. David was too ashamed, and I suppose when he found her dead he was relieved and worried all at once. He said in his note he couldn’t bear the pain he would cause those he loved when the truth was known.’

Peter laughed. ‘Silly sod. No one would have known about it if he’d kept quiet. Except Milady Snoop over there putting two and two together and making five.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Libby couldn’t think of anything else to say. She’d never felt so humiliated or ashamed in her life.

Peter leaned over and patted her on the knee. ‘Don’t worry about it, you old trout. He wanted to talk to you this morning because he genuinely thought someone else was behind the accidents and Paula’s death. You just misinterpreted it.’

‘I feel awful,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Join the club,’ said Peter.

‘So we still don’t know who …?’ said Harry.

‘Apparently not. When they get all the DNA analysis back they might know who killed her, but whether that’s the same person behind the accidents is another matter.’

‘And whether they’ve got a sample of the murderer’s DNA, presumably,’ said Libby.

‘They haven’t got mine,’ said Peter, ‘or Harry’s, have they?’

‘They’ve never asked me,’ said Harry. ‘Did they ask you, Ben?’

Ben shook his head. ‘Does that mean we’ve never been serious suspects?’

They looked at one another.

‘Probably not, then,’ said Libby. ‘We really don’t know much about police investigations, do we?’

Ben was frowning. ‘Pete, did your dad think James was his?’

‘Yes, apparently he did. Well, at least, I never heard anything …’

‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you?’ said Ben reasonably.

‘And what about Susan?’ asked Libby. ‘Did she know?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Ben frowned. ‘David didn’t think she did, in any event. That was one of the things in his note. How much it would hurt her when she found out.’

‘Pity they didn’t think of that thirty-five years ago,’ said Peter.

Ben looked at Harry. ‘Can I leave him with you, now?’ he said quietly.

Harry nodded. ‘I’ll look after him.’

Ben stood up. ‘Come on, then, Libby. I’ll see you home.’

‘Will they be all right, do you think?’ asked Libby, as they walked down the High Street, her arm tucked protectively into Ben’s.

‘Harry’ll look after Pete, and Peter will look after James and his mother. He might not like what she did, but she’s still his mother.’

‘And your poor sister. What about her?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ben sighed. ‘She’ll stay with my parents, I suppose, but she’s hardly going to want to see any of the Parkers, is she?’

‘What I can’t understand is why, after talking to me this morning, he suddenly decided to kill himself. Was it something I said?’

‘I’ve no idea, Lib, but don’t start blaming yourself. He obviously wanted to talk to you particularly, and I would guess he already had it in mind to – well, to do what he did, but wanted to make sure we knew about Millie.’

‘Then why tell
me
?’ asked Libby. ‘Why not tell Pete, or even you? Why
me
?’

‘Perhaps he thought we’d see through him – perhaps we were too close.’