Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) (18 page)

‘I’ve got a bit more news,’ he said. ‘Fran said she can come round after lunch. Can you?’

‘Delighted,’ said Libby. ‘About two-ish?’

Fran was already installed in a chair by the window when Libby arrived.

‘Sit down, Libby, and I’ll bring in the tea,’ said Andrew.

‘Do you know what this is about?’ Libby asked when he’d gone into the kitchen.

‘No – he just said he’d got some news. I meant to ask if he’d told Ian yet, but I haven’t had a chance.’

‘I’ll ask him now,’ said Libby as he came back into the room. ‘Andrew, have you told Ian or anyone at the police station this news?’

‘Not yet,’ said Andrew, looking surprised. ‘I know your Mr Connell told me to keep going and that he would defray any costs, but I don’t know if he would want what I’ve found out. So I thought I’d – ah – run it by you first.’ He looked pleased with the colloquialism.

‘Now,’ he continued as he poured out tea. ‘Where had we got to?’

‘Albert Glover and May Tollybar got married. Oh – and Ronald -what was his name?’

‘Barnes. It’s Albert and May – who was May Williams if you remember – I’m concerned with. You know I wanted to find out if they had children? Well, they did.’

‘They did?’

‘They had three children, Caroline, Jessica and Robert.’

‘Who would also be Glovers?’ said Fran.

‘Who would also be Glovers. And we’re assuming, descended from Bad Jack Jarvis.’

‘So they’re all Tollybars crossed with Beaumonts?’ said Libby. ‘Where does that get us?’

‘Well,’ said Andrew, ‘so far, I’ve only traced Robert’s family. He married and had a daughter called Maureen.’ He looked at each of them in turn and twinkled. ‘And she had a daughter called – Estelle!’

‘
S
he didn’t!’ Libby gasped. ‘
Our
Estelle?’

‘Estelle Butcher née Wilcox, yes.’

‘That might account for a lot,’ said Fran. ‘I think you should tell Ian immediately, Andrew.’

‘Oh, do you?’ His face fell. ‘I thought it might be quite nice to do a bit more investigating on our own first.’

Libby and Fran exchanged looks.

‘We can carry on investigating, Andrew, but you really must tell Ian. You see, she’s disappeared.’

Libby explained what had happened on Sunday and subsequently on Monday afternoon.

‘Hmm,’ said Andrew, frowning. ‘This must mean she knows about the reliquary.’

‘In the light of who she is, it could well be that Dominic got information about it from her in the first place,’ said Fran.

‘Do you think that’s what she’s been trying to conceal?’ said Libby.

‘Could it be,’ said Andrew slowly, ‘that this Dominic had heard about it from his wife while they were still married, then, when finding out it was coming to the Abbey he told her, and they plotted together to steal it?’

‘That’s got to be it,’ said Libby, ‘but Ian said there was no sign of any contact between them at the house.’

‘But Estelle thought there would be, and that’s what she’s been looking for,’ said Fran. ‘Go on, Andrew, you must call the police.’

‘Oh, very well.’ Andrew sighed and got up to fetch his phone. ‘What’s the number?’

Fran quoted Ian’s official number, and the waited while Andrew punched it in.

‘Oh, Mr Connell! I didn’t expect you to answer so quickly. Yes, that’s why I’m calling. The ladies thought I should.’ Andrew’s eyes flicked to Libby and Fran. ‘Yes, they’re here with me now. Well, it’s like this …’

Andrew repeated his story, then spelt out a few details.

‘Yes, Chief Inspector, I’ll carry on, certainly, if you think there is anything else to find. Of course, of course. Ronald Barnes. Yes, do.’ He switched off the phone.

‘He sounded very interested. Quite sharp, I thought.’

‘Yes, he would,’ said Libby. ‘And he wants you to look at Ronald Barnes?’

‘And see if there any living descendants of either apart from Estelle.’

‘Ah! A sort of race for the treasure?’

Andrew pulled down his mouth. ‘Quite. It sounds like a bad
Boy’s Own
adventure, doesn’t it?’

‘If it wasn’t for people being killed it would be quite exciting,’ said Libby. ‘I used to love those comics when I was a girl.’

‘You were supposed to love the girly ones, all boarding school and ballet classes,’ said Fran.

‘Oh, I loved them, too, especially the pony ones. So where will you go next, Andrew?’

‘I’ll have a look at the Glovers’ other children, and I’ll trace old Albert back and see if there’s a definite connection with Bad Jack, and see if the same applies to Ronald Barnes.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘This reliquary seems to have caused an awful lot of trouble.’

‘Right from its earliest days, yes,’ said Fran, ‘and it’s carrying on now.’

‘I wonder what its actual value is? Was it in the auction catalogue?’

‘No, there wasn’t even a reserve price quoted,’ said Libby. ‘Incalculable, I expect. It’s got huge gem stones set in a pure gold casket. Welsh gold, I expect.’

‘But it seems to be its value as a sort of talisman – a good luck charm – to the families that causes all the problems. Alastair Beaumont told you that, didn’t he, Lib?’

Libby nodded. ‘But whenever it disappears – or gets stolen – that’s always for money. And Dominic needed money.’

‘And somebody needed money when they stole it from poor old Bernard Evans. I wonder if that was a member of the family?’

‘Which family, though?’ said Libby. ‘The Beaumonts or the Tollybars?’

‘Good Lord, you make it sound so complicated!’ said Andrew. ‘More tea, anyone?’

When they left Andrew’s flat, they went to lean on the wall and look out over the roofs of Nethergate and the bay beyond.

‘Opens up a whole new can of worms, doesn’t it?’ said Libby.

‘Odd, really, that tracing the family and the story behind the reliquary should have brought us to this point,’ said Fran. ‘All goes back to family. And if you think about it, that’s been the case in some of our investigations.’

‘Yours included,’ agreed Libby. ‘Awful things, families.’

‘Andrew didn’t say if Estelle had any siblings.’

‘No, but he would have mentioned them if she had. He said he was going to check on Albert and May’s other children. Albert and May would be Estelle’s great-grandparents, wouldn’t they?’

‘Mm.’ Fran nodded, squinting at the sun on the sea. ‘Didn’t you have the urge in there to say, well, come on, get on with it? There’s loads he could do online, isn’t there?’

‘I expect so, but we don’t want to deprive him of his trips to Kew and the British Library, do we?’ said Libby. ‘I just hope he comes up with another bombshell soon.’

‘Didn’t you say you’d managed to get David Fletcher’s address?’ Fran suddenly straightened up and turned back towards the road. ‘We could go there now.’

‘Now?’ Libby looked flustered. ‘But Ian’s told me not to go poking around any more. That’s definitely poking around.’

‘He didn’t tell me. Come on, we’ll go in my car,’ said Fran.

‘Could I park mine somewhere else?’ asked Libby, following her across the road. ‘Andrew will wonder why mine’s still here if he sees it.’

‘It is quite conspicuous,’ said Fran. ‘OK, we’ll see if there’s a space on Harbour Street.’

Finding a space took far longer than Fran wanted, and she was extremely impatient by the time Libby joined her.

‘OK. OK, not my fault,’ said Libby, buckling her seat belt. ‘And this is your idea, remember, not mine for once.’

Fran drove out of Nethergate along the road that would eventually lead to Creekmarsh, and turned off towards the village of Heronsbourne.

‘Here,’ she said, pointing at a row of whitewashed cottages. ‘I bet they’re all holiday lets.’

‘A bit isolated,’ said Libby. ‘Heronsbourne’s another couple of miles up the road, and it isn’t that close to Nethergate.’

‘I don’t suppose people mind these days, as long as they’ve got a car,’ said Fran. ‘And they do look pretty.’

‘All right,’ said Libby, ‘we’ve seen it. What do we do now?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Fran, helplessly. ‘I’m not sure why I wanted to come.’

Libby looked at her shrewdly. ‘That was your brain again. There must be a reason. You must have seen something.’

‘No, I’m sure I didn’t. I just felt it was urgent to come out here.’

‘In that case,’ sighed Libby, ‘we’d better go and see if everything’s all right, hadn’t we?’

‘What number is it?’ asked Fran as they approached the row of cottages.

‘Four. On the end farthest from the road,’ said Libby.

‘Where do they park?’ asked Fran looking round. ‘This is only a footpath.’

‘There must be somewhere round the back.’ Libby walked to the end of the row, where the cottages came up against a stand of trees. ‘Yes, look.’

Behind the cottages a space had been cleared, and in it stood three cars.

‘Are any of those David’s?’ whispered Fran.

‘I’ve no idea, I’ve never seen his car.’

‘Estelle’s?’

‘Same. Never seen it.’

Fran stood in front of the end cottage, irresolute. ‘Dare we knock?’

‘I’ve already been told off once for interfering at a property,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t want to risk it again.’

‘Couldn’t you have some message about rehearsal?’

‘I’d have phoned him, hardly come all the way out here. It’s not even on the way to anywhere.’

‘We could be going to visit George at The Red Lion.’

‘That’s not an adequate excuse for being here,’ said Libby. ‘No, I think we shall have to leave it and hope you weren’t foretelling another murder.’

Fran looked agonised. ‘Don’t say that!’

Libby stared at her for a moment. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring him.’

‘Have you got his number?’

‘Yes, I put it in the phone that first night he came to rehearsal. He won’t know I’ll be calling from outside his house. Come on, we’ll do it from the car.’

Back in Fran’s car, Libby found her mobile and selected David’s number. It was answered almost immediately.

‘Yes?’

‘Oh, David,’ said Libby, realising she hadn’t thought of a reason for calling.

‘Libby?’

‘Yes, it’s me. Um – are you picking Susannah up tomorrow for rehearsal?’

‘Yes, I am, why?’

‘I wonder if you could possibly come a little early?’ said Libby, with sudden inspiration. ‘A couple of the soloists would like to rehearse with you. You know, for odd effects.’

‘Swanee Whistle?’ asked David with amusement.

‘That sort of thing, yes,’ said Libby. ‘Have you got one?’

‘It’s in every drummer’s essential kit,’ laughed David. ‘What time do you want us?’

‘Seven thirty if that’s all right,’ said Libby, wracking her brains for some way to find out where he was. ‘I’ve got to check with Susannah first because of baby-sitting and so on, so I’ll ask her to confirm with you.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ said David, ‘I’m just about to go over there, so I’ll ask her.’

‘Oh – thank you,’ said Libby. ‘Er – yes. Thank you.’

‘Pleasure,’ said David, sounding puzzled, as well he might. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

‘Indeed, yes, tomorrow,’ said Libby. ‘Have a nice time at Susannah’s.’

‘Oh, she just wants to go through some of the music on our own,’ said David. ‘And I shall stay to supper afterwards. Do you know Emlyn?

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘Nice chap. I expect you’ll meet him at the show.’

‘I expect I will,’ said Libby faintly. ‘Bye for now, then.’ She switched off the phone.

‘Now for goodness’ sake don’t forget to summon a couple of soloists early tomorrow,’ said Fran. ‘What was that all about?’

Libby explained, keeping a watchful eye on the cottages.

‘There’s a car coming out on to the lane,’ said Fran, looking in her mirror. ‘Do you think that’s him?’

‘Heads down,’ said Libby. ‘The trouble with your car is that it’s noticeable.’

They both hunched down in their seats, Libby only risking a look as the silver-grey car swished past them.

‘Yes, that was him,’ she said, sitting up straight. ‘Now what?’

‘Shall we go and have a look?’ said Fran.

‘Really?’ said Libby, pulling a face. ‘What if he comes back?’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘He might have forgotten his music or something.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ said Fran, opening her door. ‘I’ll go. You stay here.’

Libby watched as her friend crossed the road, walked to the end of the row of cottages and peered in through the window of number four. After a moment, she left the window and walked round the side of the cottage and out of sight. Libby fidgeted and worried, and had just decided she’d better go and find out what had happened when Fran reappeared.

‘You were ages!’ complained Libby. ‘What did you find?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Fran with a frown. ‘Well, I am sure, but I’m not sure what it means.’

‘Oh, come on! What did you see?’

Fran fastened her seat belt and started the engine. ‘A basket of washing,’ she said.

‘A basket –? Well, what’s wrong with that? Where was it?’

‘In a sort of porch at the back. There’s a washing line in the back garden, and it looks as though this washing had been taken off it.’

‘So? Maybe he thought it would rain before he came back?’

‘Whenever have you known a man do that? They usually forget all about it and let it stay out all night.’

‘That’s true,’ acknowledged Libby, ‘at least, the ones I’ve known do. But I don’t suppose they’re all the same.’

‘The washing in that basket was folded,’ said Fran. ‘And on top was a bra and a pair of tights. David Fletcher is not alone in that house.’

‘
E
stelle?’ said Libby.

Fran shrugged and turned left on to the Nethergate Road. ‘It would explain where she was.’

‘On the other hand,’ said Libby, ‘it could simply be that he’s brought a girlfriend down here for a spot of non-connubial bliss.’

‘Could be,’ said Fran. ‘I take it you don’t want to tell Ian about it?’

‘No, I don’t!’ said Libby. ‘I’m not getting into more trouble.’

Fran gave her an amused smile. ‘That’s not like you.’

‘I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m such an idiot,’ said Libby self-righteously. ‘I’m perfectly normal and well-behaved.’

‘You make yourself sound like a puppy,’ said Fran.

Libby pondered on the twin subjects of Estelle’s ancestry and David’s living arrangements as she drove home. She decided that Fran’s theory of Dominic knowing about the reliquary and therefore getting in touch with his ex-wife when he found out it was going to be at the Abbey was sound, but David’s connection with Estelle, particularly if she was hiding out in his cottage with him was a complete mystery. Unless – she swerved slightly as a thought struck her. Unless David and Estelle were related.

She thought back to Andrew’s revelations. He was going to look into the rest of Albert and May Glover’s descendants. Estelle didn’t appear to have any siblings, but she could have cousins. And those cousins could well know about the reliquary and feel they had a right to it. Excited, she pulled the car into the side of the road and found her mobile.

‘Fran, what about cousins?’

‘What?’ Libby could hear clattering in the background and assumed Fran was preparing dinner. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Cousins. Could David be a descendant, too? A cousin or something?’

‘Hell, I don’t know! And where are you?’

‘Going home. I’m almost opposite the turning to the Tyne Chapel. I just thought it could explain everything.’

‘Go home, Libby,’ said Fran wearily. ‘I’m sure Andrew will find out if David has any connections to the family. And at the moment I’m more worried about why I felt it was so urgent to go to that cottage.’

‘OK, sorry,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow evening.’

‘I’ll come early,’ said Fran.

Libby cast a glance to her left, where, across the fields and at the top of a small hill, stood the infamous Tyne Chapel. She shuddered, put the car into gear and set off for home.

She found Ben chopping vegetables in the kitchen and relayed the events of the afternoon while making herself a cup of tea.

He threw the contents of his chopping board into a sizzling pan and frowned.

‘Not like you to want to stay on the side of the law,’ he said, ‘but you can’t help but be worried about Fran.’

‘What, her feeling that it was urgent?’

‘Exactly. Look how many times those feelings of hers have been right.’

‘We can hardly go to Ian with that sort of information,’ said Libby. ‘But I’m going to ring Andrew and find out if he can look David Fletcher up and see if he has a connection to the family.’

While Libby rang Andrew, Ben finished his stir-fry and dished it up. ‘TV dinner?’ he suggested when she came back into the kitchen. ‘The news will be on.’

They took their plates into the sitting room and settled down to watch the news just as Libby’s mobile rang.

‘Where are you?’ asked Ian peremptorily.

‘Eating my supper,’ said Libby, with a mouthful of bean sprouts.

‘Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘Sorry – I don’t know why, but I thought you might be out somewhere.’

‘What is it, Ian?’

‘Since we heard from Andrew earlier we’ve been searching for Estelle Butcher and she’s completely vanished from the face of the earth. We even went to Fletcher’s cottage in case she was there, but there was no one there at all.’

‘David’s at Susannah’s rehearsing and having supper,’ said Libby. ‘I spoke to him this afternoon. Did you go round to the back of the cottage?’

‘What? What do you mean, the back? I sent a couple of officers out there, I assumed they knew what they were doing. Why do you ask? Oh, no. Don’t tell me you went?’

‘No,’ said Libby hastily, hoping she wasn’t about to get Fran into trouble. ‘But Fran had one of her feelings so we went out there. And Fran went to look round. I stayed in the car,’ she added virtuously.

‘And? What then?’

‘Fran saw a basket of laundry with women’s clothes in it. At the back of the house.’

‘Good God!’ exploded Ian. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘That’s rich!’ Libby was indignant. ‘Think what you would have said if we just phoned up and said we saw women’s clothing at David’s cottage. It’s only because you can’t find Estelle and you know there’s a link between them that you’re angry.’

‘Sorry.’ There was a pause. ‘So, anything else?’

‘No. Except that I asked Andrew if David Fletcher could be another member of the Beaumont-Tollybar family. He’s going to look into it. Listen, Ian, you won’t go and drag David out of Susannah’s house, will you? The poor girl has nothing to do with any of this.’

‘After what you’ve told me, Libby, I can hardly wait around until he decides to go home. I shall ring him and ask him to meet me at his cottage.’

‘I suppose that will do,’ said Libby. ‘I hope you don’t find anything sinister.’

‘Like Estelle Butcher’s body, you mean?’ said Ian. ‘So do I.’

‘Oh, bugger,’ said Libby, as she ended the call. ‘I’d better warn Fran.’

‘Send her a text, then you can at least eat a bit of your supper while it’s hot,’ said Ben.

But Fran, of course, wasn’t content with a text, and called back immediately.

Libby sighed, put down her fork and explained.

‘Well, at least he’s looking into it. I shall be prepared for a telling-off,’ said Fran.

‘Come off it, he never tells you off.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Fran, and left Libby to eat her rapidly cooling supper.

All evening Libby waited for Ian to call and tell her what had happened, but both phones remained silent.

‘I doubt if he feels he needs to let you know,’ said Ben. ‘You aren’t on the “need to know” list, even if you did give him the information.’

‘I feel used,’ said Libby.

Ben kissed her cheek. ‘Never mind, love. Would you like a hot chocolate or a whisky?’

‘What do you think?’ Libby punched him on the arm.

Wednesday limped by twice as slowly as it should. Libby heard from neither Ian, David or Susannah. She called Fran at lunchtime, who hadn’t heard either.

‘Not even the telling-off?’ said Libby.

‘No, nothing. I’ll call if I do, otherwise I’ll see you at half past seven. You did phone some of the others, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, hell, I forgot. I’ll do it now. Do you think I need to, though? David might have been locked up by now.’

‘I’d do it, in case. Susannah might turn up on her own.’

Duly summoned, several soloists, mainly the comedy performers, turned up just before half past seven. Libby sat on the edge of the stage anxiously staring at the auditorium doors. At exactly seven thirty, they swung open and Susannah came in, chatting brightly to David. Libby exchanged glances with Fran and stood up.

‘This really good of you,’ she said, ‘I hope it wasn’t any trouble, Susannah?’

‘Not at all. I’m enjoying this, you know.’

‘Thank you, too, David, and for bringing Susannah.’ Libby swallowed nervously, hoping she sounded normal.

‘Pleasure. As I told you, we did a bit of rehearsing yesterday and she and Emlyn gave me supper, so the least I can do is give her a lift.’

‘Even if supper was curtailed somewhat?’ said Susannah with a laugh.

Libby’s insides clenched. ‘Oh?’

‘The police rang me,’ said David, taking the covers off the drum kit. ‘There was an intruder at the cottage I’m renting. I had to go and check.’

‘And was there?’ asked Fran, who had come up beside Libby.

‘No. They made me open up and check all through, but nothing.’

‘So who reported it?’ asked Libby.

‘No idea. Someone had been seen prowling around the outside and in the back garden,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Nothing to steal, anyway.’

‘That was kind of Ian,’ muttered Libby, as she and Fran moved to seats in the auditorium.

‘Kind?’

‘I asked him not to pull Ian out of Susannah’s and involve her. And he didn’t.’

‘Quite clever, really,’ agreed Fran. ‘And they got the chance to check the inside of the cottage.’ She shook her head. ‘And I don’t get any sense of impending doom hanging around him.’

‘No. He seems very cheerful. Perhaps we were wrong.’

‘About him and Estelle being in cahoots?’

‘Well, yes, in a way. After all, he could have simply linked up with her because her husband had been killed at the same time as the attack on his wife.’

‘Ex in both cases, and how could he have linked up with her?’

‘Oh, I don’t know! I’m talking rubbish, aren’t I?’

‘I don’t know,’ sighed Fran. ‘After misreading the signs yesterday, I don’t know what to think.’

Libby turned to look at her friend. ‘You felt it was urgent to go there right at that moment, didn’t you. It could easily be that something was happening then, but it was gone before we arrived.’

‘David killed Estelle and got rid of the body in about fifteen minutes? Not very likely.’

Libby frowned. ‘You still think it was to do with Estelle?’

‘It’s the only thing that made any sense.’ Fran turned her attention to the stage. ‘Look, he’s really fitting in up there.’

David was following Bob the Butcher’s performance of a comic song intently, putting in sound effects at the appropriate moments.

Libby shook her head. ‘I can’t believe he’s mixed up in anything.’

‘No.’ Fran sighed again. ‘If only I could get rid of this niggle in my head, I’d like to forget all about it.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Libby, ‘but don’t forget Andrew’s still trying to find out about the families for us.’

‘And for Ian.’ She laughed. ‘How many times have we said we’ll bow out of one of Ian’s cases and then been tempted back in?’

‘A lot. Because we’re nosy. At least, I am,’ said Libby, standing up. ‘Come on, let’s go and do our stuff.’

At the end of the rehearsal, Susannah called over to Libby.

‘Don’t you all go for a drink after rehearsal? I’m sure Jane told me.’

‘Yes,’ said Libby warily.

‘Can we join you? I’ve got a late pass.’

‘Of course,’ said Libby.

‘The more the merrier,’ said Ben. ‘I expect Harry will come in if he’s finished at the restaurant. You remember Harry? Peter’s partner?’

‘How could I forget,’ laughed Susannah.

‘We’ll see you down there,’ said Libby. ‘Most of the others go, too. We’ve just got to lock up.’

With a wave, David and Susannah left. Peter, Ben, Fran and Libby looked at each other.

‘Is he still trying to find things out?’ asked Peter. ‘Do we still need to be careful?’

‘I think so,’ said Fran. ‘After all, we know now there’s some kind of link with Dominic’s wife.’

‘But he still doesn’t know anything about Martha,’ said Ben. ‘Only that she was attacked. But not who she is.’

‘We think so, but does Estelle know? Would she have told him?’

‘Estelle only knows about Dominic, nothing else,’ said Libby. ‘And whatever it is she was trying to find.’

‘We’ll just have to keep quiet, then,’ said Peter.

‘Oh, my God!’ said Libby. ‘Patti and Anne will be at the pub!’

‘And they know all about it,’ said Fran.

‘But he wouldn’t talk to them, would he?’ said Peter.

‘You never know,’ said Libby. ‘We’d better get down there and warn them.’