Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) (17 page)

T
hey walked to the end of Allhallow’s Lane and turnedleft, away from the village, into New Barton Lane. After passing the New Farm cottages on their right, the houses petered out.

‘Are there more houses down here?’ Libby asked, looking round at the flat fields, colourless under a heavy grey sky.

‘Over there, see?’ Harry pointed to his left, where there was a stand of trees.

‘How do we get there? Tramp across a field?’

‘Gawd, but you’re thick. A lane, stupid.’

Sure enough, a few yards further on a lane hardly worthy of the name turned off to the left.

‘More like a farm track,’ said Libby, peering at the tyre ruts.

‘Exactly,’ said Harry. ‘That’s what it is. There’s a public footpath and a bridleway along here, although you’d never know it. The farmer wasn’t any too happy about it.’

‘They often aren’t,’ said Libby. ‘Is it still a farm?’

‘No. The people who bought it turned the farm buildings into cottages for holiday lets. Never took off, though. I suppose that’s why Dominic got one.’

As they reached a bend in the lane the trees appeared, and, beneath them, a large brick farmhouse with a Kentish Peg roof to the right, and on their left a cluster of converted stables and barns. One, looking more like a prefab than anything else, had blue-and-white police tape fluttering across the front door.

‘That’s it,’ said Libby, coming to a halt. ‘Bleak-looking, isn’t it?’

‘I wonder why he didn’t have one of the prettier ones,’ said Harry.

‘I expect it was the cheapest. Oh, and look! It’s got a garage.’

The attached garage also had police tape across the door.

‘Did the police find his car?’ asked Harry, trying to peer through a crack at the side of the metal door.

‘I don’t know. I suppose it would have been in the car park at the Abbey. That’s where we always parked.’

‘If it was, wouldn’t the alarm have been raised earlier?’

‘Oh.’ Libby stopped and stared at him. ‘Of course. He must have hidden it somewhere else.’

‘Unless his accomplice was to have taken him home. Or pretended he was going to.’

‘Oh, I wish Martha could remember a bit more,’ said Libby.

‘Perhaps she doesn’t want to, dear.’ Harry went up to one of the front windows and peered in. ‘Can’t see a thing. Shall we knock?’

‘What for? There’s no one there. They seem to have even removed the police guard.’

‘Still,’ said Harry, and gave the front door a sharp knock.

Much to their surprise, they heard a noise inside. Holding their breath, they waited, but no one came. Libby motioned Harry back and they retreated round the side of the garage.

‘A cat? Did he have a cat?’ whispered Libby.

‘How do I know? Anyway, the police would have taken a cat to the RSPCA.’

‘Mice?’

‘Don’t be a prat. No, that was a person.’

‘Why didn’t he come out to see what we were doing prowling around? He must have heard us talking.’

‘Because he, or perhaps she, is not supposed to be there,’ said Harry. ‘My knock must have made her jump, or she wouldn’t have given herself away like that.’

‘Not the police then?’

‘Be your age! I don’t know where you got your brains from, woman. My guess is the fragrant Estelle.’

‘Makes sense,’ said Libby. ‘What shall we do?’

‘Tell Ian, of course. Why, do you think we should mount a commando raid ourselves?’

‘He is going to be so fed up with me,’ said Libby.

‘What, when you’ve supplied him with valuable information two days running?’

‘Because I’ve been blundering round his investigation.’

‘Rubbish. You were very kindly accompanying me on a walk on my day off. You didn’t know he lived here, did you?’

‘No, but I knew it was off New Barton Lane. Ian would never believe I’d stumbled on the place by accident.’

‘What about yesterday? That was a genuine accident, wasn’t it?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘There you are then,’ said Harry. ‘I’m going to ring up now, before she can make a run for it.’

‘
You
are?’

‘Yeah, me. After all, I quaite fancy the lovely Chief h’Inspector. Give me the number.’

Libby handed over her mobile. ‘They’re both under “Ian”,’ she said. ‘I’m going to keep a look out in case she breaks free.’

But there was no movement from the house.

‘Back door,’ said Harry’s voice in her ear, making her jump. ‘I’ll go and look.’

He was back in a moment. ‘Boarded up,’ he whispered. ‘Ian says to walk away as though we’re leaving. Someone will drive along the lane in an unmarked car after us. They don’t want to alert her.’

‘Does Ian think it is Estelle, then?’ asked Libby, as they made their way back to the farm track.

‘Possible. Come on, the track goes beyond the farm and joins up with another lane further on.’

On pushing further up the track, Libby realised how difficult it was to listen for sounds of escape from behind, when your ears were full of the sound of your own breathing, the squelch of mud beneath your feet and the rustle of waterproof clothing. What she did hear, after a while, was the sound of a car engine.

Harry turned round. ‘I think it’s the police.’

They stood back to let the car pass, but as it drew level the passenger window slid down and the red-haired head of Sergeant Maiden stuck out.

‘Hello, Mrs S! Just looking around. House back there, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. Are you going to have a look?’

‘I expect so. Don’t want to alarm anyone, though, do we. You going to go along home?’

‘Eventually,’ said Libby, ‘if Harry can find his way. You don’t want us walking back past the house, do you?’

‘Rather not, if you don’t mind,’ said Sergeant Maiden. ‘I expect the Chief Inspector will be in touch.’

‘I’m sure he will,’ grunted Libby, as she watched the car pull into a farm gateway.

‘Reckon they’re going to stage a raid?’ said Harry, as they walked on past.

‘No,’ said Libby. ‘I do wish we knew who was inside.’

‘It can only be Estelle, can’t it?’

‘Possibly with David. Perhaps they’re both in there looking for something.’

They tramped on up the lane until it forked.

‘Which way now?’ asked Libby.

Harry grinned at her. ‘Oh, ye of little faith! We go right here, back on ourselves and we rejoin New Barton Lane. Then we can go home.’

‘Glory be,’ muttered Libby, as they set off down the right-hand fork.

This lane was better surfaced and didn’t seem quite as long as the one going through the old farmstead.

‘That’s because it doesn’t twist and turn as much,’ said Harry. ‘Here we are – New Barton Lane.’

‘And not even very far from where we left it,’ said Libby with relief.

‘Come on, then, keep up,’ said Harry, looking back over his shoulder at her. ‘You’re not fit, that’s your trouble.’

‘I didn’t think you were, either,’ grumbled Libby. ‘I’m not going out with you again.’

‘Promises, promises,’ carolled Harry, as he strode ahead.

Libby’s feet knees and back were protesting violently by the time she reached home. She made a cup of tea and took it upstairs to drink in a hot bath, but just as she was about to step into it, the phone rang. Shivering, she answered the bedroom phone.

‘You’re at home, then?’

‘Yes, Ian, I’ve just got in and I was about to get in the bath.’

‘Oh.’ Ian sounded disconcerted. ‘How long will you be?’

‘Why?’

‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Now?’

‘I’m in Canterbury. I’m just about to leave to come to Steeple Martin.’

‘I’ll be out by the time you get here,’ said a resigned Libby.

She thought she heard someone knocking at the front door ten minutes later, but decided it couldn’t possibly be Ian yet. By the time she’d climbed out of the bath and wrapped her damp hair in a towel, the knocking had stopped and she swore under her breath.

Ian arrived about fifteen minutes later, by which time she was wearing her most disreputable painting trousers and a very baggy sweater. She blushed when she saw Sergeant Maiden standing behind Ian on the doorstep.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’ve just had a bath.’

‘I know,’ said Ian. ‘What I’m wondering is – did you happen to leave a downstairs window or door open while you were up there?’

Fear clutched Libby’s stomach. ‘I don’t think so, why?’

‘We saw someone disappearing into the wood at the end of the lane.’

Libby frowned. ‘He could have come from anywhere.’

‘He or she came from behind your terrace of houses. Has your back hedge been thoroughly repaired?’

‘Not entirely,’ said Libby.

‘Then let’s go and have a look at it,’ said Ian, and led the way through the house to the garden.

‘Someone’s pushed through,’ he said, pointing at a gap in the hedge. ‘How long that been there?’

‘It hasn’t,’ said Libby. ‘We were only out here the other day.’ She looked at Ian. ‘I did actually hear someone knocking while I was in the bath, but by the time I’d got out it had stopped.’

Sergeant Maiden nodded. ‘Fits,’ he said.

‘But you said you saw someone as you arrived.’

‘I don’t think we did, we just said we saw someone. Actually a good five to ten minutes before we knocked on your door. We went to see if we could find it.’ Ian led the way back into the sitting room.

‘So what did you want to talk about?’ asked Libby, sitting on the sofa.

‘What exactly happened when you went on your supposed walk today.’

Libby sighed. ‘I told Harry you’d be angry with me.’

‘Now, why should you think that?’ Ian raised one eyebrow.

‘Because you usually are,’ said Libby, crossly. ‘And this walk wasn’t my idea. Harry wanted to do something with his day off.’

‘And that involved poking around Butcher’s house?’

‘No! I didn’t even know where it was. Peter had the address.’

‘So why did Harry want to have a look?’

‘Nosiness, I expect,’ said Libby. ‘Anyway, as we walked past it we stopped, and …’

‘And?’

‘Well, Harry knocked. And then we heard a noise. I thought it might be a cat.’

‘That had let itself in? No.’

‘Well, you sent someone out,’ said Libby. ‘You must have thought it was worth investigating.’

Ian sighed and looked at Sergeant Maiden. ‘We did, and you were right. However, by the time Sergeant Maiden got there, just after he saw you, whoever it was had gone.’

‘But how? The back door was boarded up, and didn’t you say there were padlocks? We didn’t hear anything and there were certainly no cars except your one.’ She looked at the sergeant.

‘We don’t know. Nor do we know how she – if it was Mrs Butcher – got there.’

‘Dominic’s car,’ said Libby frowning. ‘We were wondering about that. It couldn’t have been left in the Abbey car park or it would have roused suspicion.’

‘It wasn’t. We found it about half a mile away, with some clothes in it. It looks like a carefully prepared getaway.’

‘Which makes it even likelier that he was intending to steal the reliquary?’

Ian nodded. Libby sighed again. ‘I’m going to make more tea. Would you like some?’

As usual, the big kettle was simmering on the Rayburn, so it took next to no time for Libby to reappear in the sitting room with a tea tray.

‘Go on, then, what did you find in that house?’

‘It looks as though someone had stayed there overnight, and certainly a search had been made.’

‘Do you think that’s where Estelle went when she left Creekmarsh yesterday?’

‘If she did, what’s she done with her car?’

‘She could have left it somewhere and Fletcher could have given her a lift to Butcher’s house,’ suggested Maiden. Libby nodded agreement.

‘But if she ran away after we’d been there,’ said Libby, ‘why would she come knocking on my door?’

‘No idea,’ said Ian, ‘but you remember I did say someone might try and find out if you knew anything?’

‘You meant David.’

‘Yes, but the same applies to Mrs Butcher.’

‘But I don’t know anything.’

‘Now you’ve been up to the house, she must think you do. You’re sure she didn’t see you yesterday?’

‘No. The only time we’ve met was at Peter and Harry’s. What did she want, do you think?’

‘At the house?’ Ian shook his head. ‘There’s nothing in there that relates to her at all, except solicitor’s letters.’

‘But she’s frightened.’ Libby frowned. ‘She’s scared something will be found that will incriminate her, yet you don’t think she killed Dominic?’

‘The unbreakable cast-iron alibi,’ said Ian. ‘So she’s scared of something else.’

‘And is it the same thing that David Fletcher’s scared of?’

‘Is he scared?’ asked Ian. ‘I didn’t think so.’

‘No, actually, neither do I – he just wants to find something. And I think what he wants to find is Martha.’

‘So we keep mum,’ sad Libby. ‘And what about if Estelle turns up here?’

‘You tell her nothing and get in touch with us,’ said Ian. ‘By 999 if necessary.’

‘Do you think she’s dangerous?’ said Libby, nervously.

‘It depends on what she’s looking for or scared of,’ said Ian, standing up. ‘We’ll be off, and, Libby, no more poking around.’

‘No, Chief Inspector,’ said Libby, and saw Maiden give her a wink.

She related the whole saga to Ben when he arrived from the Manor half an hour later.

‘Young Harry’s a menace,’ was his comment, as he held up a gin bottle. ‘Drink before dinner?’

‘Yes, please, I need one.’ Libby curled up in the corner of the sofa. ‘I’m worried about Estelle turning up here. How did she know where I lived?’

‘Would Dominic have had your address?’

‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t think he even had this phone number.’

Ben handed her a glass and sat down beside her. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. After all, she didn’t try and break in, did she?’

‘No. I wonder where she’s gone now?’

‘She’ll be aware the police are on to her, so as far away as possible, I should think,’ said Ben. ‘What’s for dinner?’

The sun came out again on Tuesday. Libby was once again trying to work on some small paintings for Guy’s gallery-cum-shop when Andrew rang.