Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) (5 page)

‘
H
ow did that happen?’ asked Peter, when Libby relayed Patti’s conversation.

‘I’m not sure. Sister Catherine wasn’t either, apparently. She said the solicitor for the estate rang to say he’d received a request from someone. It wasn’t you, was it?’

‘Libby! Of course it wasn’t. I wouldn’t know who the solicitor was.’

‘Well, the nuns don’t know, but whoever sent the request did them and us a favour. The nuns are delighted, even though they wouldn’t like to keep it. We are to keep it to ourselves, though, until nearer the first night.’

‘Security risk,’ said Ben. ‘It must be worth a small fortune.’

‘I wonder,’ said Libby slowly, staring out of the window at the familiar road ahead.

‘What?’

‘I wonder if Ian’s done it.’

‘Ian?’ Peter’s head whipped round. ‘Why on earth would he do it?’

‘To see if someone else takes a shot at it.’

‘So someone else can get murdered?’

‘Well, it might bring someone out of the woodwork, mightn’t it?’

‘Whoever killed Bernard Evans in the seventies isn’t likely to still be around,’ said Ben.

‘Why not? We were all around then and we still are.’

‘Yes, but he’d be likely to be older than we are, so a fairly geriatric murderer.’

‘Oh, that’s true,’ said Libby. ‘Still, it’s a thought.’

It being Sunday, Hetty had cooked her usual roast, but re-scheduled it for seven o’clock. As Harry was shut on a Sunday evening, he joined them, and they all relaxed round the large kitchen table with glasses of one of Hetty’s fine wines.

‘So that’s where we are now,’ Libby concluded, having brought Harry and Hetty up to date with the events of the past few days.

‘Estate shop sounds good,’ commented Hetty.

‘That’s what I said! But Ben says no,’ said Libby.

Hetty fixed her son with a gimlet eye. ‘Not going to put the village shops out of business. Home-made produce. Get the farmers to provide it. One of ’em keeps bees, don’t he?’

‘I did say that might be the answer,’ said Ben grudgingly.

‘But you said they’d have to sell it themselves or through the eight-til-late,’ said Libby. ‘I bet Het could work out something better than that.’

Looking pleased, Hetty simply grunted and got up to fetch the rib of beef that had been resting on top of the Aga.

‘I think I’d put my money on Lib and Hetty together,’ said Harry. ‘We could even sell some stuff in the caff.’

‘We’ve got a local vineyard, haven’t we?’ said Peter. ‘Could we sell their wines, too?’

‘Hey, wait a bit,’ said Ben, holding up a hand. ‘I haven’t said yes, yet. And I’d have to look into all the legal side first.’

‘Oh, the boring bit,’ said Harry. ‘OK, change the subject. Who do you reckon asked those solicitors to lend old St Edie’s finger?’

‘No idea.’ Peter shook his head. ‘There aren’t many people who know about it, after all.’

‘All of us and the cast of the play,’ said Libby, ‘Fran and Guy, Patti and Anne, the nuns and – I say – do the nuns have servants?’

‘They have oblates, or alongsiders, women who live and work with them, some for a short period, some for longer,’ said Peter. ‘I met a couple of them when I went to meet Sister Catherine.’

‘So there’s them, too,’ said Libby. ‘Do they live in or out?’

‘In. And there are occasionally guests who are on retreat. They have guest accommodation.’ Peter fetched a dish of roast potatoes and carrots to the table.

‘Most of those are mine,’ said Harry. ‘To make up for the meat.’ He cackled and drew the dish towards him.

‘There’s more,’ said Hetty.

The subject of the reliquary was abandoned until after the beef had been finished and the treacle sponge demolished.

‘Pouff,’ said Libby, leaning back in her chair. ‘The Maidenhaye Arms couldn’t hold a candle to that.’

Hetty looked pleased, but said nothing.

‘Speaking of Maidenhaye,’ said Ben, ‘you ought to let Ian know what happened, Lib. After all, he wasn’t altogether pleased about us going down there.’

‘It can wait until tomorrow,’ said Libby. ‘If Ian’s got a Sunday off he won’t appreciate a call from me.’

But on Monday morning it was Ian who called Libby.

‘I’ve just been speaking to Alastair Beaumont. He tells me he’d like to buy the reliquary.’

‘Yes,’ said Libby, surprised. ‘He told us, too. I was going to ring you to report.’

‘Of course you were.’ Libby could almost hear him grinning. ‘Anyway, it appears that there’s no knowing when or from where those documents were stolen. I described them to Mr Beaumont and he confirms that they sound genuine, but he doesn’t have a clue where they might have come from, except that to him they sound later than the document of sale he showed you.’

‘Dear old Bartholomew Tollybar? Really?’ Libby frowned.

‘Which argues that, if our provenance documents are genuine, the reliquary must have been back in the possession of the Beaumonts
after
Tollybar bought it.’

‘Suggesting that yet another renegade member of the family pinched it back?’

‘Another?’

Libby explained about the previous thefts of the reliquary.

‘It forms a pattern,’ said Ian. ‘For some reason, some members of the family think the reliquary should always be in their possession, and others use it for personal gain.’

Libby tried to think this through. ‘I think I understand,’ she said. ‘So what you’re saying is Bernard Evans was left the thing by a family member and it was pinched by another one. Bit convoluted, isn’t it?’

‘I’m not sure about who left it to Evans. I think that was probably someone who’d bought it from a family member, and someone else wanted it back.’

‘I’ve got a picture of all these little Beaumont figures throwing the reliquary around like a football,’ said Libby. ‘You need to see Alastair’s family tree. It’s vast.’

‘That’s what I thought. You see, there will always be offshoots of a family who resent the main branch. Wouldn’t you say it could have been one of those who played fast and loose with this thing?’

‘Maybe,’ said Libby doubtfully. ‘It all sounds a bit far-fetched to me. In fact, why are you so interested?’

‘Because,’ said Ian, ‘the item was stolen from a murder victim within living memory, and it has now shown up. That means we have to investigate. You know that. You told us about it.’

‘But the history …’

‘Libby, you’re always the one who wants to look into the history. Now, did you hear that the estate is to loan the reliquary to the Abbey for the duration of the play?’

‘Yes, Patti told me yesterday. How did that come about. Was it you?’

‘How did you know?’ asked Ian, after a pause.

‘I couldn’t think that anyone else requesting it would have been indulged,’ said Libby. ‘Is it bait?’

‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ said Ian, sounding uncomfortable.

‘But you want to see if it draws anyone out.’

‘In a way. We thought if it was publicised –’

‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘It will be well guarded, and only on view during performances. The rest of the time it will be in secure custody.’

‘Police, or a security company?’

‘Whatever resources can stretch to. There has been interest from a Kent museum since the news leaked out –’

‘Leaked out?’

‘You couldn’t expect this to stay under wraps, and, as I say, this museum might undertake to keep it temporarily.’

‘Hmm. I suppose it will be all right, as long as the nuns aren’t put in danger.’

‘We’d never do that. So you carry on with your rehearsals, and we’ll make all the arrangements. We’ll let you know if any developments occur.’

‘So that’s that,’ said Libby to Sidney, as she switched off the phone. ‘Thank you and good night.’

She called Fran, then Patti, Ben and Peter and relayed the news.

‘I expect Ian will tell Sister Catherine himself,’ she said to Patti, ‘so there’s no need for me to bother her.’

‘I expect so,’ said Patti, ‘but he’ll have a fight on his hands.’

‘He will?’

‘The nuns want to keep the reliquary in the Abbey for the duration. They don’t want it going anywhere else. They feel it’s their right, even though they won’t keep it afterwards.’

‘Right. This should be interesting, then, but as I said to Ian we don’t want to put the nuns in danger.’

‘Not many people break into an abbey,’ said Patti. ‘Especially one with a good security system!’

The subject of the reliquary gradually disappeared from daily conversation over the next couple of weeks, until the first rehearsal took place at the Abbey in the ruins of the monastery.

‘Apparently,’ said Peter, as he drove Ben and Libby to the Abbey, ‘the reliquary is already there, in a special glass case and they’ve appointed a private security company to look after it at night.’

‘Only at night?’ said Libby.

‘There’ll be people around it all the rest of the time,’ said Peter, ‘and it’s a high-security case.’

‘Are they opening it to the public?’ asked Ben.

‘Only the public who come to the play. And since there’s been a bit about it in the local press ticket sales have shot up.’

‘Really?’ Libby was interested. ‘Has our Campbell been on to you yet?’

‘Not yet. I doubt if it’s quite TV news-worthy.’

Campbell McLean was a reporter for the Kent and Coast television network.

‘Jane ran it in the
Mercury
,’ said Peter. ‘I sent her the press release myself.’

Jane Baker was assistant editor at the
Nethergate Mercury
and was a long-standing friend.

‘In that case Campbell won’t be far behind,’ said Libby. ‘He picks all Jane’s stories apart.’

When they arrived at the Abbey, Peter parked on the gravel sweep in front of the modern building as Sister Catherine and a woman in a blue pinafore dress came out on to the steps.

Sister Catherine seemed delighted to see them, and very excited about both the play and the reliquary.

‘Oh you must come and see where we’ve put it,’ she enthused, ‘but I forget myself! This is Martha, our resident alongsider.’

The woman in the pinafore dress stepped forward and held out her hand.

‘I’m so pleased to meet you,’ she said with a smile. ‘Of course, I’ve already met Mr Parker.

‘Peter, please,’ said Peter. ‘And this is Libby and Ben.’

‘Hello,’ said Libby taking the outstretched hand. ‘Lovely to meet you. I must say, I’m curious.’

Martha’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘Most people are.’

‘Come on then,’ urged Sister Catherine. ‘I want you to see the reliquary at last.’

She led the way through the Abbey, from a wide entrance hall along a corridor to a modern glass-enclosed cloister. Double doors at the end of this opened into an atrium which, in turn, looked out on the ruins of the monastery, and in the centre of which stood a glass case on a high wooden plinth.

‘Not too close,’ said Martha, ‘as we’ve got the lasers switched on.’

‘Lasers?’ Libby stopped short.

‘If no one’s around we switch them on. The security patrol checks it at night. They have access through the monastery grounds, not through the Abbey of course,’ said Sister Catherine.

‘And it’s not lit at night, of course,’ added Martha, her head on one side appreciatively. ‘It looks wonderful there, doesn’t it? As though it belongs.’

And it did. The reliquary itself was worked gold, set with coloured stones which Libby assumed were real emeralds, rubies and sapphires. It was small, only about six inches long by about two inches deep, and mounted on what looked like a battered piece of wood.

‘I’ll turn off the lasers, shall I, Sister?’ asked Martha. ‘After all, I shall be here with the actors.’

‘Thank you, Martha.’ Sister Catherine smiled gratefully. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without Martha, really I don’t. She’s volunteered to give up Compline every night you’re here to act as – well, as hostess, I suppose.’

‘The other oblates will help,’ said Martha. ‘We have two living here at the moment and three who are part of the family but live in their own homes. We aren’t constrained to the life of daily prayers as the sisters are.’

‘I must go to prepare for Compline now, so I’ll leave you in Martha’s hands,’ said Sister Catherine. ‘Good night and God bless.’

They all watched her go back through to the cloister, a tall, gliding black figure suddenly lit by a shaft of late sun through the cloister glass.

‘I don’t know how they do it,’ murmured Libby.

‘To tell you the truth,’ said Martha, coming back from where she’d deactivated a concealed switch, ‘neither do I.’

‘But you live with them, you share in their daily life,’ said Ben.

‘But only as much as I want to,’ said Martha. ‘Yes, I’m devout, but I need a certain amount of freedom.’ She smiled round at them. ‘I’m so looking forward to this play. It’ll be exciting to meet so many different people.’

‘I just hope you don’t regret it,’ said Peter.

Libby looked at him sharply, but didn’t say anything.

‘So where do we go?’ asked Ben. ‘We’d better start setting up shop.’

‘I know the way,’ said Peter. ‘I’ve got it all mapped out.’

‘Our garden store has been cleared for you,’ said Martha. ‘There won’t be much privacy, but it’s the best we could do. We do have another building a bit further away which we use – or rather – is used – for weddings.’

‘Oh, yes, I heard you had weddings here,’ said Libby.

‘We don’t, exactly, they are civil ceremonies because the monastery is actually owned by a Heritage Trust, not the Abbey. But the land is still ours. It’s a very complicated situation.’ Martha opened the glass doors of the atrium. ‘We’ll keep these locked while the public are here, but the reliquary will be spotlit so they’ll be able to come and look at it. It’s quite a centre piece, isn’t it?’

‘It certainly is.’ Libby went out through the doors and turned back. ‘Thank you so much, Martha. Will you be around if we need to ask anything?’

‘Yes, of course. We’ve put our public toilets at your disposal, which are also used by visitors to the monastery, and they’re over there.’ She pointed.

‘She’s nice,’ said Libby to Peter as they strolled slowly towards the monastery ruins and their performance area. ‘What did you mean when you said you hoped they don’t regret it?’