Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) (16 page)

‘You did it out of the kindness of your hearts so I would have a ready-made support network, you know you did,’ said Libby.

‘And now look what’s happened,’ said Peter. ‘I knew it was a mistake.’ He ducked as a menu was aimed at his head.

The food, as always, was excellent, and after an indulgent dessert had been consumed by them all except Peter, Harry joined them.

‘So the caretaker’ll be back on a more permanent basis,’ he said, nodding at Adam. ‘And you’ll lose yours, Guy.’

‘But we won’t let Chrissie or Lucy know, or they’ll be there all the time cadging free holidays,’ said Fran, who didn’t have the best relationship with her children, except for Jeremy, living in America.

‘So update us on the murder, petal,’ Harry said to Libby.

‘Nothing to report. It’s given up on us,’ said Libby.

‘Or Ian has,’ said Harry.

‘Either way, nothing to report,’ said Libby.

‘In that case, how about coming over to Creekmarsh with Ad and me in the morning to raid the veg beds? Anyone?’ Harry looked round the table. ‘Lewis has said we ought to harvest anything we can or it’ll go to waste.’

‘I’ll come,’ said Libby.

‘We can’t, we’ve got the shop,’ said Fran.

‘Busman’s holiday,’ said Ben.

‘Right, missis,’ said Harry. ‘Report here at ten complete with gardening gloves. You’ll be back in time for lunch with Hetty.’

‘Sorry, Ma,’ said Adam, when he came to kiss her goodnight. ‘You know what he’s like.’

‘I do,’ said Libby, ‘and I shall enjoy it. I haven’t been to Creekmarsh for ages. Not since that party last year.’

‘It’s an opening day,’ warned Adam, ‘so you might have to avoid punters.’

‘No worries,’ said his mother, patting his cheek.

Fran and Guy gave Libby a lift to The Pink Geranium in the morning on their way home. She waved them off and went inside to find Adam and Harry already busy assembling large amounts of plastic bags, secateurs and string.

‘Come along then, troops,’ said Harry. ‘I’ve got to get back here for the lunchtime rush.’

It was a blessedly sunny day, and by the time they’d driven up the long shady drive to the front door of Creekmarsh Place, there was a healthy crowd queuing for tickets to see the grounds, mainly famous for being owned by a television personality, the cheeky-chappie builder and handyman Lewis Osbourne-Walker. Sadly for the crowd, he was rarely in evidence at the weekends.

Adam led them to the walled vegetable garden and set them to their tasks.

‘The punters can come in here, but they’re only allowed to keep to the path in the middle,’ he said. ‘They shouldn’t bother you.’

Half an hour later, Libby, stood up straight to stretch her aching back and gasped.

Heads together at the entrance to the vegetable garden were David Fletcher and Estelle Butcher.

L
ibby scrambled out of the vegetable garden and stumbled over to the greenhouse, where Harry was gathering baskets full of tomatoes.

‘Dominic’s wife,’ she whispered, ‘with Martha’s husband! They mustn’t see me!’

Puzzled but obliging, Harry stepped in front of her as she fished out her mobile and rang Ian’s official number. When she was asked to leave a message, she did so, then tried his personal number.

‘Can you keep them there?’ asked Ian, sounding as if he was already on the move.

‘I don’t know how,’ said Libby. ‘I can’t let them see me, or they’d bolt. They obviously met here thinking no one would see them. And Estelle’s met Harry, so he can’t do it.’

‘What about Adam?’ Libby heard a car door slam.

‘If I can find him,’ said Libby. ‘Go on, we’ll do our best.’

She rang off and tried to ring Adam, who obviously hadn’t taken his mobile into the garden with him.

‘I’m going to try and track them,’ said Libby. ‘If I make my way down this wall, I can come up behind them.’ She peered over Harry’s shoulder. ‘Yes, look, they’re walking very slowly down the middle path. I’ll work my way through the beans and potatoes and try and keep them in sight. If I see Ad, I’ll wave.’

Luckily the rows of bean sticks that bordered the central path provided a little cover as Libby proceeded slowly, pretending to check each plant. She couldn’t hear what David and Estelle were saying, but it was obvious that this was not the first time they had met.

As they came up to the exit gate from the vegetable garden, Libby was surprised to see Adam appear there pushing an oversized wheelbarrow which he proceeded to get stuck in the gateway. Libby looked over to the greenhouse and saw Harry put up a thumb.

Adam was now arguing with David and Estelle, who looked furious. Without warning, she turned on her heel and marched back the way she had come, David following reluctantly behind her. Adam was doing his best by calling: ‘Hey, you can’t go out that way!’ but the pair continued to the end and left through the entrance gate, Libby sidling cautiously after them.

But she was too late. By the time she emerged, neither was in sight. She turned and saw Adam coming out behind her.

‘Can you get back to the car park and see if they’ve gone?’ she said. ‘I’ll go this way.’

Pushing the wrong way through happily ambling visitors, Libby swore under her breath. She reached the car park in time to see Adam scowling down the drive.

‘Two cars,’ he said, ‘leaving as I got here. And look – here’s Ian.’

Adam led the way into the big kitchen of the house, where Lewis’s mother Edie held sway. Today, however, it was empty.

‘Tell me what happened,’ said Ian, as Harry entered looking bewildered.

Libby explained.

‘And I can’t even begin to think why they were together,’ she said. ‘I mean, the estranged husband and wife of the two victims. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Put that way, it does,’ said Ian. ‘We’ve been wondering about a connection between Butcher and Martha, and now there seems to be one.’

‘David and Estelle were having an affair? Is that why they broke up with Martha and Dominic?’ said Libby.

‘I wouldn’t think so. Martha left David long before Estelle and Dominic split up.’ Ian rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I wonder where they’ve gone.’

‘Back to David’s cottage?’

Ian shook his head. ‘Are you sure neither of them saw you?’

‘Pretty sure. I stayed in the greenhouse,’ said Harry, ‘and managed to get hold of Ad who tried to hold them up with his massive wheelbarrow.’

‘It didn’t work, though,’ said Adam. ‘Sorry, Ian. Mind you, I don’t even know the story behind all this, so I’m not sure why I was trying to stop them.’

‘I’ll tell you later, love,’ said Libby. ‘So, what now, Ian?’

‘I’m putting a tail on Fletcher. Estelle Butcher hasn’t been seen at either her London address or the hotel she was staying in when she was last down here, so I can’t tail her. But if you’re sure about them not having seen you – and they don’t know Adam – they might try and get in touch with you again. There’s obviously something they either want or need to hide.’

‘Can’t you ask Martha?’ said Harry. ‘She’d know.’

‘She might not,’ said Ian. ‘She’s very fragile still, and her memory hasn’t come back.’

Libby sighed with frustration. ‘There must be something we can do.’

‘The police will, Libby,’ said Ian with a slight smile. ‘All you can do is keep your eyes open and if you see either of them again, separately or together, let me know.’ He stood up. ‘Good try, though, and it’s certainly given us another lead.’

‘Well,’ said Harry, when Ian had gone. ‘I’ll have to get going if my punters are going to get any lunch. Are you staying here, Ad?’

‘No, I’m having lunch at Hetty’s.’ Adam stood up. ‘I’ll just go and let Edie know we’ve been in.’

On the drive back, Libby explained the entire story of the murder and the attack on Martha to Adam.

‘And this is the ex-husband of the woman who was attacked and the ex-wife of the man who was murdered?’ asked Adam. Libby nodded. ‘Well, I just wish he wasn’t called Dominic.’

‘I didn’t like that when I first met him,’ said Libby. ‘He wasn’t a particularly likeable sort, was he Harry?’

‘I really only knew him as a customer,’ said Harry. ‘Embarrassingly chatty with other diners.’

‘Oh.’ Adam pulled down the corners of his mouth. ‘So we don’t think either of them will show up in the village?’

‘Estelle won’t – at least, I shouldn’t think so – but David might.’

‘So I ought to keep out of sight if they do?’

‘So they don’t connect you with the rest of us? I wonder if that’s what Ian meant? Perhaps it would be useful.’

‘How much do they know about your set-up? I mean, the theatre and everything?’

‘Not much. Estelle only found out about it when she heard of Dominic’s death, the same with David.’

‘Do we know how David knew about his wife being attacked?’ asked Harry.

‘She was in the paper under her real name. When David came down here and found Susannah was working with us he must have thought his troubles were over,’ said Libby.

‘But what troubles?’ asked Adam. ‘You haven’t explained that.’

‘No, because we don’t know. I got the impression from Martha that she was through with all men and had been out of touch with her ex. Ian confirmed that, so what David wants is anyone’s guess.’

‘And now they’re in cahoots,’ said Harry. ‘Very Spies-are-us. Makes you wonder, lovies, doesn’t it?’

‘Well, yes,’ said Libby.

‘I mean – do we know absolutely posi
tiv
ely that Estelle knew nothing about what was going on with Dominic before his death?’

‘No, not provably,’ said Libby. ‘Ian said there was no contact obvious in his house. Not even an address. Only a couple of solicitors’ letters, I think.’

‘Hmm,’ said Harry. ‘I reckon you should take a look round it.’

‘Harry! How could we do that?’

‘New Barton Lane, isn’t it? You could go and have a bracing Sunday afternoon walk after lunch.’

‘After one of Hetty’s roasts? You must be joking!’

‘All right – tomorrow. My day off. I shall take you hiking.’

‘But we can’t go into the house. What point would there be?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just got a hunch.’

‘Where does David live?’ asked Adam.

‘In a rented cottage near Nethergate. I don’t know where, exactly.’

‘That’s a pity,’ said Adam, as Harry parked the car outside The Pink Geranium. ‘I could have gone and had a reconnoitre.’

‘You keep out of it, sonny,’ said Harry, swinging himself elegantly out of the car. ‘I need my staff in one piece, however part-time they are. Not to mention my tenant.’

‘It doesn’t matter about me, then?’ said Libby, scrambling rather more inelegantly out of the back seat.

‘Oh, you’re always in trouble, you are. More lives than a cat.’

‘Thanks.’ Libby handed over the bags full of vegetables they’d managed to salvage after the unscheduled interrruption. ‘I’ll see you at Hetty’s, Ad.’

‘And I shall see you tomorrow complete with walking boots,’ said Harry. ‘They suit me.’

‘All right,’ said Libby. ‘Let me know what time.’

‘
À
la bonne heure
, as my beloved might say,
’
said Harry.

His beloved was waiting for them, already ensconced at Hetty’s huge pine table with a glass before him.

‘What’s all this I hear about cop chases and expeditions?’ he asked, as soon as Libby appeared.

Hetty turned from the Aga and raised her eyebrows. ‘What yer been up to now, gal?’

Ben groaned. ‘I’ll go and fetch the wine, shall I, Mum? I’ve heard this already.’

Libby sat down. ‘Didn’t Harry tell you?’

‘He hasn’t had time. He had to get straight on with opening the caff. He said you’d tell me. And Het wants to know, don’t you Auntie?’

‘Don’t you Auntie me,’ said Hetty, flicking him with a tea towel. ‘Go on, gal.’

So Libby repeated the story, including Harry’s decision to take her spying on Dominic’s old house.

‘I don’t understand what good that will do,’ said Peter, leaning back and crossing elegant ankles.

‘Neither do I. He says he has a hunch. And as I’ve never seen where Dominic lived, I’d quite like to.’

‘Why?’ Peter’s eyebrows disappeared into his blond hair, which as usual, hung over his forehead.

‘Nosy, I suppose,’ said Libby. ‘Hello, Ad.’

Adam went to kiss Hetty’s cheek and she gave him an affectionate push.

‘Filled everyone in, Ma?’ he said.

‘Yes, and now I think we should talk about something else,’ said Libby, or Ben will get cross.’

‘Yes, he will,’ said Ben, returning with two bottles. ‘Just pour this out and let’s get on with the real business of the day.’

On Monday morning, Libby dealt with three queries about the End Of The Pier Show, two from performers and one from the Alexandria, and, on a sudden inspiration, called Susannah to ask for hers and David Fletcher’s addresses as they needed them for insurance.

‘It’s something to do with not being covered if you’re not a member of the company,’ she said vaguely. ‘I don’t understand it, but better safe than sorry.’

‘Isn’t that covered by public liability insurance?’ said Susannah.

‘Is it? Peter and Ben deal with all that stuff – I’m clueless.’

‘Oh, that’s OK,’ said Susannah. ‘As you say, better safe than sorry.’

Harry rang a little later.

‘Guess what I’ve got!’ she told him gleefully. ‘David Fletcher’s address.’

‘You weren’t thinking of walking all the way over there, were you?’

‘No, but I can drive over there at some point. Or Ad can.’

‘Leave your darling boy out of it. You already have a posse, no need for a junior branch.’

‘All right, all right. When are we going for our walk?’

‘After lunch, I thought, if the rain holds off.’

‘Do you know where it is?’

‘Yes, Pete had it. I shall call by in my hiking gear with my knapsack on my back at two o’clock. Be ready!’

Libby dug out some old trainers bought with the intention of taking up jogging, which had never happened, put chicken and vegetables in the slow cooker and made herself a sandwich. By two o’clock she had also found an old plastic poncho in case of rain, and felt quite proud of herself. Harry, she discovered, really had turned himself into a hiker.

‘Rambler, really, petal,’ he said, looking down at himself. ‘Up until a few years ago, before you arrived to set the place talking, I did a lot of this.’

‘Proper walking boots and socks and everything,’ said Libby, admiring him. ‘Who’d have thought it?’

‘Not you, obviously. Now, come on.’