Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) (20 page)

L
ibby wasn’t surprised when, as she and Ben were eating a hasty supper before leaving for the theatre, Ian called.

‘Andrew told me what he found out,’ he said. ‘Why he has to tell you before calling me, I don’t know.’

‘He’s not used to being a police informant,’ said Libby.

‘He isn’t an informant! He’s an expert witness.’

‘Was it right, though? Did Edgar’s cell mate provide him with the information about Bernard and the reliquary?’

‘It looks like it. The man was certainly working for the solicitor whom Bernard had appointed. In fact, it was the same solicitor who had worked for old Ronald Barnes, and you’ll be pleased to know that Andrew has also proved the link between Barnes and the Beaumonts. He, too, is a descendant of Jarvis.’

‘So we
are
getting on,’ said Libby. ‘Does it get us anywhere, though?’

‘Us, Libby?’

‘Oh, Ian, you wouldn’t be calling me otherwise!’

‘All right, all right. But it does look possible that Estelle knew her Uncle Edgar –’

‘Well, of course she did, but he’s actually her first cousin once removed.’ interrupted Libby.

‘Let’s call him “Uncle” for now. Anyway, she needn’t necessarily have known him, if Jessica and he were black sheep. But if she did, she might well have known if he stole the reliquary and murdered Bernard.’

‘He’d never have told a child though. How old is he now? He must still be alive?’

‘Drank himself to death on a Caribbean island, apparently, having come into money in his twenties.’

‘There you are!’ said Libby. ‘Proof!’

‘Possible, anyway,’ said Ian.

‘What about Estelle’s mum – Maureen, was it? Isn’t she still alive?’

‘Cancer, ten years ago. And her father Barry, was much older than his wife and is now in a home.’

‘Oh, poor Estelle,’ said Libby. ‘She must think the world’s against her.’

‘I don’t see why.’ Libby could hear the frown in Ian’s voice. ‘It happens all the time.’

Unsympathetic Calvinist, thought Libby.

‘So where do we go from here?’ she said aloud.

‘
We
don’t go anywhere, Libby. I’m keeping you informed out of courtesy, and just in case Estelle should make contact with you.’

‘I don’t see why she should,’ said Libby. ‘I doubt if she’s going to offer us rent for the Hoppers’ Hut. Oh, and Susannah Baker knows David Fletcher has a connection to the murder.’

‘I told you not to say anything.’

‘I know, but she worked it out for herself. He was so pointedly asking questions last night that he was making everyone uncomfortable. So she asked me. I didn’t tell her who he was or what connection he had, though.’

‘Can’t you get rid of him?’

‘Not easy,’ said Libby, ‘although we have done for tonight.’

Later, after rehearsal, which finished earlier than usual, Susannah asked if they were going for a drink.

‘Not tonight, but we could have one here, if you like,’ said Libby. ‘Why?’

‘I just wanted to talk to you. Or those of you who are involved in – this – er –’

‘Business?’ suggested Libby. ‘Yes, OK, we can open the bar. But wait until all the others have gone.’

Peter opened the bar, while Ben, Libby, Fran and Susannah sat down at the little white tables.

‘I just wanted to say that I’ve always found David to be a really nice guy,’ Susannah began, ‘and I can’t believe he’d be involved in anything – well, criminal.’

‘What do you know about him?’ asked Peter, bringing wine and glasses to the table. ‘I’m making coffee for you and Fran, by the way.’

‘Thanks,’ said Susannah, ‘very kind of you. Well, now, David. He’s classically trained, did I tell you that?’

They all shook their heads.

‘He trained at the Guildhall and the Northern,’ Susannah went on, ‘and it was there he met up with some other musicians who were very much into big band music. He started playing with them and gradually got into that particular club of big band players. Most of the bands you might have heard of in that genre have the same musicians. He also got into pit playing –’

‘What playing?’ asked Peter.

‘The pit,’ explained Libby. ‘For musicals and stuff.’

‘His wife liked that better because he was in one place for a time, rather than all over the country and the continent.’

‘His wife?’ said Fran, while the others sat frozen.

‘Yes. I never knew her, he kept her rather in the background.’ Susannah frowned. ‘I wondered if she was ill or something, he was always having to rush off home.’

‘Jealous?’ suggested Ben.

‘Him or her? Oh, I can see why any spouse not in the business would be jealous,’ said Susannah.

‘So can I,’ said Fran. ‘Mine was.’

‘Yours?’ Susannah looked surprised.

‘Oh, not Guy. My first husband,’ said Fran. ‘Anyway getting back to David …’

‘That’s just it. He seemed concerned about his wife. Or that’s how it seemed. He seemed a nice guy.’

‘And you never saw any evidence of him playing around?’ asked Libby.

‘Not personally. There are always rumours.’

‘Yes,’ said Libby and Fran together, nodding sagely.

‘Well, that’s all I wanted to say, really,’ said Susannah. ‘I don’t know how he’s connected with this murder, but I’m sure he’s done nothing wrong.’

‘I hope not,’ sighed Libby. ‘But he’s been seen recently with –’

‘Libby!’ said three voices.

‘Someone,’ she continued with dignity, ‘who has a close connection with the murder. So we have to be vigilant.’

‘I see.’ Susannah looked down into her coffee mug. ‘I wish I hadn’t asked him in, now.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Libby. ‘It’s nobody’s fault.’

‘Suppose he’s arrested before the show? Or even during it?’ said Susannah.

‘As long as it’s before the show, we can carry on without him,’ said Libby. ‘And I think we’d know if his arrest was imminent.’

‘Oh, yes, your connections with the police,’ said Susannah with a smile. ‘That makes us all feel a bit safer, I suppose.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ said Peter darkly.

Susannah took her leave shortly after this, and the others finished their wine. ‘I should have offered to drive her,’ said Fran. ‘I never thought.’

‘You didn’t know I’d asked David not to come,’ said Libby. ‘So what do we think?’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Peter.

‘I honestly thought when she asked to talk to us she was going to pull out,’ said Libby. ‘She admitted this afternoon that knowing David was connected to the case was going to put a strain on her.’

‘It wouldn’t have surprised me in the least,’ said Fran. ‘But she hasn’t.’

‘Because she’s a professional.’ Ben picked up the empty glasses and mugs. ‘Even though she’s not getting paid, she wouldn’t let us down.’

‘Did you tell Peter about Andrew’s latest find?’ asked Fran, as Ben went round checking all the theatre doors.

‘What’s that?’ asked Peter. Libby told him about Uncle Edgar and the solicitor’s clerk.

‘So,’ said Peter, as they left the building, ‘Estelle sits on Uncle Edgar’s knee while he regales her with tales of derring do and murder, and later on she thinks she might as well do the same? Is that what we think?’

‘It’s a bit far-fetched,’ said Ben.

‘But there is the family link,’ said Fran. ‘Presumably, Edgar was one of those who wanted to use the reliquary for gain, and felt entitled to it.’

‘I suppose Ian now has to find out if it was Edgar who sold it to Mr Marshall,’ said Libby, ‘but I’m sure the police have looked into that, and he would have used an intermediary.’

‘I wonder if that solicitor’s clerk was questioned at the time of Bernard’s murder,’ mused Fran.

‘I expect he would have been, but all he had to do was deny knowing anything. After all, we think all he did was pass the information to Edgar.’

‘However, my dears,’ said Peter, as they came to the end of the drive, ‘this is all pure speculation, however inviting it may seem. God speed, farewell and
bonne nuit
.’

‘Oh, damn,’ said Fran. ‘Why did I walk down here with you? My car’s at the top of the drive.’

‘I’ll walk back with you,’ said Ben. ‘It’s dark up there.’

‘I’ll come, too,’ said Libby, ‘or I’ll have to walk home on my own.’

Ben grinned at her. ‘And you know how I love that!’ He put an arm through hers and the other through Fran’s. ‘Come along, harem.’

The Manor and the theatre were in darkness as they approached, until the security light went on over the Manor’s front door. Hetty’s rooms were at the back of the house to avoid this disturbing her.

‘What’s that?’ Libby stopped.

‘What?’ said Ben.

‘Sssh!’

‘Back of the theatre,’ murmured Fran.

Ben’s eyes widened. ‘Stay here,’ he whispered, and padded off round the side of the building.

The women remained still, and after a minute or two the light went off. Then: ‘Libby!’ Ben’s voice sounded strange.

The light came on again as Libby and Fran ran round the side of the theatre and found Ben, sitting on the floor holding his head.

‘I think you’d better call the police,’ he said shakily. ‘We’ve had another attempted break-in.’

‘Your head!’ said Libby, on her knees beside him, while Fran had her mobile out.

‘Whoever it was was trying to get in through the scene dock doors. I surprised him and got hit for my pains. I don’t know what with, but it felt like a ton weight.’

‘Could you see who it was?’ Libby had one arm round him, while the other held a tissue to his head where blood was seeping through.

‘No,’ said Ben. ‘I think it was wearing the missing robe.’

Chapter Thirty
-
two

D
espite his protests, Ben was taken to hospital. Libby went with him in the ambulance and wasn’t in the least surprised to arrive in A and E and find Ian waiting for them. Neither was she surprised when they were whisked straight through the waiting area with its due complement of drunks.

When Ben was taken through to have an MRI scan, Ian fetched Libby a machine-made coffee, and one for himself.

‘Better than the tea, I speak from experience,’ he said. ‘Now tell me exactly what happened.’

Libby, still feeling very wobbly, duly told her story.

‘If only I hadn’t heard that noise it wouldn’t have happened,’ she finished. ‘Why do I go blundering –’

Ian laid a hand on her arm. ‘Stop that, Libby. For once, you weren’t blundering in, and Ben had a duty to investigate if someone was trying to break into the theatre.’

‘But you always say not to,’ said Libby. ‘We could have ignored it, or just called the police.’

‘And said what? You heard a noise at night? With fields backing up to the building? I can imagine what the control would have thought of that, not to mention the patrol which was sent to investigate.’

Libby sighed, took a sip of coffee and made a face.

‘Under the current circumstances, having only this morning discovered a break-in on your premises –’

‘Not exactly on –’

‘You know what I mean,’ said Ian severely. ‘It’s natural to wonder what was going on. Didn’t you suspect, even briefly, that it was the same person who had been in the hut? Honestly?’

‘Yes, of course we did,’ admitted Libby. ‘If we’d have called 999 with that story, would it have been any different?’

‘I suppose it might,’ said Ian, ‘but what I’m getting at is – it’s not your fault. Nor is it Ben’s.’

Libby nodded, but her expression was doubtful. ‘Did they find anything?’

‘It doesn’t look like it. There were marks on the door as if someone had been trying to get the padlock off.’

‘There weren’t any marks on the door of the hut.’

‘No, but there are no padlocks on those doors. It could be that whoever it was expected it to be as easy to get into the theatre.’

‘But why? If it is Estelle, why is she haunting us?’

‘I don’t think you, particularly, I think it’s just hiding places.’

Libby shook her head. ‘I still don’t see why. Or how she got into Dominic’s house when you’d had it locked down tight.’

Ian smiled. ‘I think I’ve already told you once in this case, Lib, I don’t always tell you everything.’

Libby looked up at him in surprise. ‘You mean you
let
her get in?’

‘And you and Harry rather spoiled it.’

Libby felt the warmth spreading up her neck and into her cheeks. ‘We weren’t to know!’

‘You weren’t supposed to be there, either.’

‘All right, all right. Now you know why I said I was blundering –’

‘Stop it.’

Libby sighed again. ‘So the thinking is what? Estelle broke into Dominic’s house, was flushed out of there, found the hut and was discovered again and decided to see if she could take shelter in the theatre?’

‘Makes sense, doesn’t it?’

‘It does, but I don’t see why. What was she looking for, if anything?’

‘I’m not sure she was looking for anything,’ said Ian. ‘She let herself in with a key. I’m pretty sure that despite what everyone thought, they were still in touch.’

‘The robe!’ said Libby, sitting up straight. ‘The person who attacked Ben was wearing it.’

‘Which means that whoever it was is involved in this case, doesn’t it?’

‘And Dominic could have given her the robe.’ Libby frowned. ‘So she must have been involved in the theft of the reliquary.’

‘But it wasn’t stolen.’

‘Oh, bugger, so it wasn’t.’ Libby got to her feet and went to peer through the door through which Ben had been wheeled away. ‘Why is he being such a long time?’

Ian laughed. ‘You haven’t spent much time in hospitals recently, then. And don’t worry about him. I think this MRI is only a precaution.’

‘But you hear such awful things about bangs on the head …’ said Libby.

‘Not when everything’s been so thoroughly investigated,’ said Ian. ‘And look, here he is now.’

Ben appeared in a wheelchair looking distinctly grumpy, with a young, tired-looking doctor beside him.

‘They want to keep me in overnight,’ he said. ‘Ian, can’t you talk to them?’

‘I think it’s advisable,’ said the doctor, giving Ben a dirty look. ‘It was quite a heavy blow. We can’t see anything suspicious on the scan, but Mr Wilde ought to be monitored.’

‘I think you ought to stay, Ben,’ said Ian. ‘I’ll take Libby home and she can come and get you tomorrow.’

‘Oh, can’t I stay?’ asked Libby.

The young doctor looked uncomfortable, but Ben forestalled him.

‘No, you go home, Lib. You need to tell everyone what’s happened, and you’ll have to call Mum when you get home.’

Hetty had come out of the Manor when the ambulance had arrived, and, although appearing outwardly her usual calm and phlegmatic self, Ben and Libby both knew how worried she would be.

‘All right,’ said Libby with a sigh. She turned to the doctor. ‘Is he going to be all right?’

The doctor gave a tired smile. ‘I think he’s fine. We just need to keep an eye on him.’

Libby bent to kiss Ben and found, to her surprise, that there was a painful lump in her throat and her lips were quivering.

‘Go on with you,’ he whispered. ‘See you in the morning. Love you.’

Ian led a silent Libby outside to his car.

‘Thanks,’ she said, as he helped her into the car. ‘It’s out of your way.’

‘I must take care of my star witness,’ said Ian. ‘I have the utmost faith in your ability to get to the bottom of the whole business in next to no time.’

‘Liar,’ said Libby, obscurely comforted, and relapsed into silence.

Half an hour later, Ian drew up outside number 17.

‘Are you OK? Do you want me to come in with you?’ he asked.

‘No, thanks, Ian. I’ll pour myself a large whisky and phone Hetty and Fran. I hope I don’t wake them.’

‘It’s only one o’clock,’ said Ian. ‘I expect they’re both still waiting for news. Oh – and I’m told Peter and Harry came tearing up the drive after you’d gone off in the ambulance, so you’d better call them, too.’

‘I will,’ Libby promised, and leant over to kiss Ian’s cheek. ‘Thanks for being there tonight. I know you were there because it’s your job, but still.’

‘I needn’t have come,’ said Ian. ‘It would have been normal procedure to have a uniform in attendance. I was there as a friend.’

‘And you got us through in record time,’ said Libby.

‘Head injuries are always seen quickly.’ He, in turn, kissed Libby’s cheek. ‘Off you go. I’ll be in touch.’

Libby let herself in, idly stroked Sidney’s head as he looked up from the sofa, and poured herself the promised whisky, after which she phoned Hetty, who answered immediately.

‘All right, gal,’ she said after being reassured. ‘I’ll come with you in the morning.’

Fran was also waiting for the call.

‘I wasn’t worried,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why.’

‘That’s actually reassuring,’ said Libby. ‘But listen to what Ian told me.’

Fran agreed to discuss it in detail the following day and to speak to everyone who might need to know, then Libby called Peter’s mobile.

‘I thought it was Hetty when I saw the blue lights,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’

‘You couldn’t have done anything,’ said Libby. ‘He’s OK, a bit sore and grumpy, but all you would have done is go haring off into the darkness and probably got hit on the head, too.’

‘Bloody woman,’ Peter grumbled.

‘Me?’

‘No, that Estelle. I knew she was trouble the minute she turned up on the doorstep.’

‘We don’t know it was her,’ said Libby.

‘Hmm,’ said Peter. ‘Can I come with you tomorrow?’

‘No, Pete, Hetty’s coming, and we don’t want to overcrowd him. I’ll ring you when we’re home.’

Libby switched off the phone, finished her whisky and climbed slowly up the stairs.

‘I’ll never sleep,’ she told Sidney, whom she had allowed to join her. ‘I know I won’t.’

But she did.

The following morning the phone woke her with a call from Bob the Butcher, who wanted to know if he could do anything. He was followed by various other members of the theatre company, until, in order to shower in peace, she switched off both the landline and her mobile.

When she was ready, she called the hospital and was told yes, she could collect Mr Wilde as soon as she liked. She called Hetty, who said she would be ready at the end of the drive, then left a message for Ian and set off.

They found Ben, dressed, with a bandage on his head, sitting at the nurse’s station in his ward, clutching a large envelope.

‘That’s for your GP,’ said a nurse to Libby, as though Ben were a child. No wonder he still looked grumpy, she thought.

‘So how is it?’ she asked as soon as they were back in the car.

‘A bit painful,’ said the patient with a sigh. ‘But not too bad. I’ve had stitches,’ he added proudly.

‘Wow!’ said Libby, admiringly. ‘Everyone’s been asking after you.’

‘How did they know?’

‘The village,’ said Hetty succinctly from the back seat.

‘Any news from Ian?’

Libby flicked him a warning glance. ‘Not yet.’

‘Right.’ Ben subsided into his seat. ‘I’ll just close my eyes for a bit. You’ve no idea how noisy it is in a hospital at night.’

After they’d delivered Hetty to the Manor, Libby drove carefully back to Allhallow’s Lane.

‘Now, do you want to go to bed?’ she asked.

‘No, I want to know what Ian said.’ Ben sat down carefully on the sofa. ‘I’d like a decent cup of tea, though.’

Libby told him what Ian had said the previous night while she made a pot of good strong tea.

‘Pete says it’s got to be Estelle,’ said Libby, ‘and although Ian won’t say it definitely is, I bet he thinks so, too.’

‘I think it’s got to be her, too,’ said Ben, ‘although, for a woman, she packs a powerful punch.’

‘Perhaps she used the crowbar or whatever it was she was trying to get the lock off with,’ said Libby.

‘And,’ said Ben, frowning, ‘where did she get that from? If she’s been hanging around on the estate all day since she left the hut, I bet she stole it from the yard.’

‘Well, yes, if it was her, or if it was all the same person but not Estelle, but we don’t know that, either.’

‘We don’t know if it was Estelle, and we don’t know if it was the same person who was in the hut this morning.’

‘Yes,’ said Libby. ‘Complicated, isn’t it?’

‘And you say Ian says she had a key to Dominic’s house?’

‘Yes. He actually said she let herself in with a key. I don’t know how he knows that.’

‘Perhaps they found a key that hadn’t been there before?’

‘You know what?’ said Libby, ‘you’re thinking too much. You need to get some rest.’

Ben smiled. ‘Trying to get rid of me already?’ He sat up and held out a hand. ‘Help me up, then. Are you going to undress me?’

‘That would be bad for you,’ said Libby primly. ‘I shall watch you go up from the bottom of the stairs.’

‘Spoil sport,’ said Ben, and slowly climbed the stairs.

After checking that he was indeed in bed, Libby went back to the front room and poured herself another cup of tea before ringing Fran.

‘Yes, he’s fine. A bit grumpy, and he didn’t sleep much, so he’s gone up for a rest now. But what I’m wondering is, what will Estelle do next?’

‘If it was Estelle who hit Ben and who was also in the hut yesterday morning, I don’t think she’d try anything else, she’d be too exposed. She’d know the police would be all over the place.’

‘Will they?’

‘Of course. They’ll be up there now, searching the estate.’

‘Really? I must find out.’

‘But what does she want?’

‘Ian says she doesn’t want anything, she’s just hiding. If it is her.’

‘But hiding from whom?’

‘Well, the police, I suppose,’ said Libby.

‘That doesn’t make sense. Until she broke into Dominic’s house – which is debatable, anyway – she hadn’t done anything wrong. So who is she hiding from?’

‘If it is Estelle,’ said Libby firmly, ‘she’s certainly done something wrong now, by walloping my Ben.’

‘Yes, but she was hiding before that. Have you told Susannah?’

‘No, not yet. I suppose I should. Will she tell David, do you think? You don’t think he could have anything to do with last night?’

‘We don’t know what David has to do with any of it,’ said Fran. ‘And to be honest, I don’t think we can keep this quiet. All the cast know what happened by now. It’s possible, even, that David knows already.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll call Susannah, then.’

But before she could do so, the phone rang again.

‘Libby, it’s Andrew. I tried you and Fran just now, but you were engaged.’

‘Yes, we were talking,’ began Libby.

‘Listen a moment. I’ve left a message for Ian, but I thought both of you would want to know.’

‘Know what?’

‘Cornelia Fletcher is also a descendant of May and Albert Glover.’