Murder in the Green (33 page)

‘From whom?’ Monica’s voice went right up the scale.

‘Well – your husband –’

‘I meant who did you hear it from?’

‘Ah – I’m afraid I don’t know.’ He was looking uncomfortable now. ‘Someone in the office, I assume.’

‘That’s all right, Monica, we can find out,’ soothed Libby. ‘Don’t worry about it now.’ She smiled brightly at Sir Jonathan. ‘Lovely cake,’ she said, taking a slice.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Monica, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know what gets into me.’

Libby patted her hand. ‘Your husband was murdered, that’s what’s got into you. It’s enough to cope with by itself, without any added business complications. Now, cheer up and have some of this lovely cake.’

The tea party then resolved itself into more conventional terms. Sir Jonathan was the perfect host and treated Monica like precious china, so much so that by the time Libby deemed it suitable to take her leave, she was quite happy to stay when Sir Jonathan pressed her to a fresh pot of tea. Libby said goodbye and was accompanied to the door by Sir Jonathan.

‘Thank you for smoothing over the awkward moment,’ he said quietly. ‘I wasn’t sure what to do.’

‘She’s desperate to find out what’s going on in the company,’ whispered Libby, ‘and to find out what happened to the man who they thought was Bill’s killer.’

‘And wasn’t he?’

‘No, it turns out he was already dead,’ said Libby.

‘Oh, dear.’ Sir Jonathan pulled at his white moustache. ‘I’ll do what I can to keep her mind off it. But I really think they ought to let her into the business.’

‘So do I,’ said Libby, ‘but they aren’t keen on anyone getting inside, customers or shareholders.’

‘Oh?’ Sir Jonathan raised his eyebrows. ‘We’ll have to see about that, or I’ll be changing my suppliers.’

‘Is it all right if I pop in to see Mel?’ asked Libby.

‘Of course.’ Sir Jonathan kissed her cheek. ‘Take care, my dear.’

All that old world charm, thought Libby, as she walked down the staircase. If only I were older.

Melanie was found in her office at the end of the main corridor on the ground floor, looking far more like the Mel Libby had first met with Harry. Obviously not on front of house duties today, she was dressed in torn jeans, a studded leather collar and a T-shirt.

‘I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about Frensham Holdings, actually, if you don’t mind,’ said Libby, after the niceties were out of the way.

Mel put her booted feet on the desk and raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh? Mrs Sarjeant Investigates?’

‘Oh, you’ve heard.’

‘We could hardly avoid it, could we? So what do you want to know?’

‘I’m not really sure,’ said Libby. ‘Anything you remember from your days working for them.’

Mel put her feet down and leant her elbows on the desk. ‘I didn’t work for them,’ she said. ‘I worked for another of their clients. And I find this job far more congenial. More freedom. As far as I could see they didn’t ever seem to let anybody know what was going on.’

‘Mmm.’ Libby nodded. ‘That’s what Mrs Frensham’s finding now.’

‘Mrs Frensham?’ Mel looked surprised. ‘In the business?’

‘Well, no,’ said Libby. ‘They won’t let her get near it, even though she’s the majority shareholder.’

‘She was never interested before. At least that’s what we were told. And Elizabeth Martin would never let anyone near old Bill, anyway.’

‘Were they having an affair back then?’

‘We all thought so, but there was another woman as well. We saw her a couple of times.’

‘Blonde? A bit tarty?’

‘That’s her.’

‘Wilhelmina Lethbridge,’ said Libby, and told Mel all about it.

‘We’ve had a couple of deliveries of office supplies since Bill died,’ said Mel when she’d finished, ‘but they’ve been using a third party delivery service. They used to come with someone in a car. Often it was Bill himself. Keeping in with old Jonathan, I think.’

‘Yes, Sir Jonathan said he made personal visits. You don’t sound as though you were over-smitten, though.’

‘No.’ Mel shook her head. ‘Always felt there was something funny about the company. I mean, Barry Phillips was good at his job, and they had some good people working there, but, I don’t know, the Supplies division always seemed a bit run down, if you know what I mean. I don’t know if that was the first part of the company Bill set up, and then got into marketing and media and lost interest. That’s a bit what it felt like.’

‘Well, somehow or other Monica’s got to get in and find out. She may want to sell. I think I would, if it was me.’

‘If the business is in good shape,’ said Mel. ‘They’ve been in trouble recently.’

‘Really? My partner said he had a bad time getting money out of them. Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps they don’t want Monica to see the balance sheets.’

Libby was thoughtful as she walked out to the car. Had Ian looked into that? Had they put in a forensic accountant, or whatever they were? Was it fraud? She sighed, unlocked the car door and got in. And stopped. Just ahead of her was a white van with a logo she’d seen before. Diggory’s. And sitting in the passenger seat was a woman she’d seen before. Elizabeth Martin.

The van drove off before she could even think about what to do, or what it meant. All she wanted to do was talk to Fran. And Ian, but preferably Fran. She shut the door, put on the seat belt and started the engine. Would Diggory have recognised her car? No, of course he wouldn’t. And Martin had only seen it in the car park of Frensham Barn, and was unlikely to have taken any notice of it.

She drove carefully home, slightly shaken by what she’d seen and what she’d heard. Sidney welcomed her from the stairs, and, despite the two cups of Earl Grey she’d drunk at Anderson Place, she went straight to the kitchen and switched on the electric kettle. No time now to wait for the cast-iron one, a cup of strong builder’s tea was what was needed.

When she had the mug in her hands, she called Fran.

‘Are you free to talk?’

‘Yes. Chrissie’s upstairs in the spare room.’ Fran sounded gloomy. ‘With Cassandra.’

‘Cassandra? The cat? Why? What’s happened?’

‘She’s walked out on Brucie baby, that’s what happened.’

‘No! Omigod, Fran, that’s terrible. She doesn’t mean to move in with you, surely?’

Fran sighed. ‘I think that’s what she intended when she turned up on the doorstep this morning.’

‘But she couldn’t! There isn’t room, and what about Balzac? He’d hate having Cassandra around. Remember when I had him here with Sidney?’

‘As far as I could tell,’ said Fran, ‘she rather expected me to get rid of both Guy and Balzac.’

Libby exploded into laughter. ‘You’re not serious.’

‘Oh, but I am. I told you she sent Guy off because she needed to, as she put it, “talk to her mother without non-family members butting in”. Then she said “Put that thing out. I need to let Cassandra out of her basket.”’

‘So what did you do?’

‘I said it was Balzac’s home, and as far as I was concerned, Cassandra could stay in her basket until – and this was a master stroke – she went home.’

‘And?’

‘And then she broke down and said she wasn’t going home. I made her tea and calmed her down a bit. That was when you rang. Then I had to listen to her for hours. Finally I told her to go and have a lie down before she drove herself home. She still wouldn’t believe I wasn’t going to let her stay.’

‘I suppose you could, Fran. Just for a day or two.’

Fran sighed again. ‘I know. She is my daughter, after all, but she’s hardly been good to me, has she? And now I’ve heard the whole story, I think they’d be better sitting down and talking it through.’

‘So what’s been the problem, then?’

‘She’s suddenly decided she wants children. Or rather – A Baby.’

‘Ah! And Brucie baby doesn’t.’

‘Well, quite rightly, he’s confused. Cassandra was their baby – and how she’ll take an addition to the family I dread to think – and they’d discussed it before and after they got married.’

‘But you can’t gainsay the old biological clock,’ said Libby.

‘No. And living here isn’t going to make it go away, either. So tell me, what happened at Monica’s?’

So Libby told her.

‘Elizabeth Martin and Richard Diggory? But they come from different sides of the story,’ said Fran.

‘In a way, but they’re both linked to Bill Frensham,’ said Libby.

‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ said Fran. ‘Elizabeth Martin and Diggory. I don’t get it.’

‘Neither do I,’ said Libby, ‘but it can’t have anything to do with my other thought, could it?’

‘About fraud? I doubt it. You think Martin’s trying to keep Monica away because they’ve been cooking the books?’

‘Well, that would bring Diggory in, wouldn’t it?’ giggled Libby.

‘Libby! It’s a possibility and makes more sense than anything else. Have you rung Ian yet?’

‘No. I’ll do that after you. What do you think he’ll say?’

‘Thank you and goodnight, probably,’ said Fran.

But Ian didn’t. When he finally returned Libby’s call, he listened attentively.

‘Well done, Libby,’ he said. Libby pretended to faint for her own amusement. ‘I’ll be round in about an hour. Have the kettle on.’

Chapter Thirty-three

Ian turned up just as Ben and Libby were sitting down to supper.

‘Honestly, Ian,’ said Libby as she ushered him into the sitting room. ‘Your timing’s awful. I haven’t got enough to offer you supper, and I refuse to let it get cold. So you’ll have to sit here on your own until we’re finished.’

‘Can I watch television?’ asked Ian with a grin. ‘I never get the chance.’

Libby handed him the remote. ‘Do you want tea? Coffee?’

‘I’ll have a coffee when you’re ready,’ said Ian, settling back on the sofa, ‘but don’t rush.’

‘He’s got a nerve,’ muttered Ben, as Libby returned to the table.

‘Not really,’ said Libby peaceably. ‘We’re always trying to muscle in on his cases, and if he’s nice enough to let us help the least I can do is let him watch our television.’

‘
Our
television?’ Ben gave her a crooked smile. ‘That’s a turn-up.’

Libby coloured. ‘Well, of course it is,’ she said. ‘Now, eat up.’

When she took coffee into the sitting room, she had to shake Ian awake.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Haven’t had much sleep recently.’

Ben carried the remainder of the wine in and put it and their glasses on the table in the window. ‘Like a glass?’ he asked, not too grudgingly.

‘No, thanks. I’m driving. But thanks for the coffee, Libby.’

‘That’s OK.’ Libby sat on the other end of the sofa. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Tell me again what happened this afternoon.’

Libby told him again of her afternoon’s meetings with Monica, Sir Jonathan and Melanie, followed by her sighting of Diggory and Elizabeth Martin and her subsequent conversation with Fran.

‘And that’s all?’

‘What else? What were you expecting?’

Ian frowned. ‘I was hoping Monica might understand the Wagnerian reference.’

‘She said he knew his opera. Oh, and they went to see the Ring Cycle together when they were first – well, you know.’

‘I expect they went to a lot of things at that time. Kept them out of the way of people they knew.’

‘For a long time,’ said Libby.

‘Eh?’

‘The Ring Cycle takes between fifteen and twenty hours to perform,’ said Libby, watching Ben’s and Ian’s faces in amusement.

‘What? You have to sit in a theatre for nearly a whole day?’ said Ben in disbelief.

‘No – it’s four operas. Sometimes they’re performed on consecutive days, sometimes independently.’

‘Did Monica think the reference had anything to do with this Ring Cycle?’

‘She didn’t say so. You merely asked me to find out what he meant by “positively Wagnerian”, not which specific piece.’

‘Yes, sorry,’ said Ian.

‘What about Frensham Holdings?’ asked Ben. ‘I wasn’t altogether happy with them as a customer.’

‘You were a customer?’

‘No they were clients of mine,’ said Ben. ‘I designed the conversion of Frensham Barn for them, then they adapted it and didn’t want to pay me.’

‘Ah.’ Ian nodded. ‘We’ve uncovered quite a bit about Frensham Holdings actually, and none of it good.’

‘Really?’ said Libby. ‘You didn’t tell me!’

‘You’re not on the force, Libby. I don’t have to tell you things.’ Ian smiled at her.

‘No.’ Libby looked down, embarrassed. ‘But we’ve been trying to find out about the place – I even went there, didn’t I? I thought you might have told me.’

‘There is definitely something going on at Frensham Supplies,’ said Ian. ‘We’re getting a warrant. We need a forensic audit.’

‘I said that to Fran!’ Libby said in triumph. ‘That’s why they want to keep Monica out of the business, isn’t it?’