Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) (6 page)

Peter stopped and stared up at the grey stone arches.

‘I just hope nothing goes wrong. I’ve got a rather nasty feeling that something might.’

T
he other actors, including Fran, began to arrive. They all drifted over to look at the reliquary, exclaiming or shuddering, according to temperament. When they had all assembled, Peter called them to order and showed them the layout of the performance area.

‘The only place you will be able to go to when off-stage is behind the Abbey building over there.’ He pointed beyond the atrium. ‘The gardener’s shed has been cleared for our use, but there isn’t much in there except a couple of benches. That’s where we’ll have to change, so don’t bring masses of belongings and make up – there just isn’t room. Right, now, everybody ready?’

‘It’s going quite well, isn’t it?’

Dominic’s voice in her ear made Libby turn sharply.

‘Yes. Although we’ll have to stop soon because the light’s going.’ Libby peered through the grey ruins to where Peter stood on the far side. ‘I hope he’s organised the floodlights.’

Dominic turned towards the atrium. ‘Makes the thing stand out though, doesn’t it? The dusk.’

Libby looked across. The reliquary in its glass case glowed under the spotlight. ‘Certainly does.’

‘Doesn’t look very safe there, though.’

‘Oh, it’s very well guarded,’ said Libby. ‘Lasers and all sorts. And a security patrol.’

‘Just as well,’ said Dominic. ‘It looks valuable. Oh, hey, that’s me. I’m on.’

Libby watched him stride on to the “stage” and declaim his lines. He was a pest in a lot of ways, but she supposed his heart was in the right place.

Peter called a halt ten minutes later.

‘No use rehearsing in the dark,’ he said. ‘Luckily, the ruins have floodlighting, which we may have permission to turn on early, and we’ve also got more lights being loaned to us by the theatre’s lighting people. We won’t have those until the week of the performance, though, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the early floodlighting. Off you go.’

‘I’ll go and find Martha and tell her to lock up the reliquary,’ said Libby. ‘And someone’s got to lock the gates to the grounds.’

She went into the atrium and called. Martha appeared immediately from a door to the left.

‘I’ve been watching out of the window,’ she said ‘It’s fascinating, isn’t it? I shall ask if we can put the floodlighting on as soon as you come for your next rehearsal.’

‘That’s just what Peter was hoping for! Who do we have to ask?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out,’ said Martha. ‘Are you ready for me to lock the gates?’

‘You do that, too, do you?’ Libby watched Martha switch off the spotlight and switch on the security.

‘When the heritage people aren’t here, yes. The whole site has to be kept secure. It’s not like Whitby Abbey where you can just wander in.’

The main car park for the ruins was empty by the time Martha and Libby arrived, and Libby marvelled as the huge electronic gates swung slowly shut.

‘Your car’s in front of the Abbey, isn’t it?’ said Martha. ‘Come on, we can cut through here.’

‘The grounds are beautiful, aren’t they?’ said Libby, peering around her through the dusk.

‘Glorious. As long as the rain keeps off you’ll have a lovely week. Here we are.’

They emerged on to the forecourt, where Peter and Ben were waiting by the car.

‘Thanks for everything, Martha,’ said Peter. ‘We hope we won’t be too much trouble.’

She beamed. ‘Of course you won’t. We’re delighted to have you and the reliquary here.’

‘It’s going to work, isn’t it?’ said Libby, as Peter drove them out on to the main road. ‘It’s a lovely setting. And Martha’s going to ask for the floodlighting to be switched on early for us.’

‘Great. All I need to do now is finalise the paperwork with the heritage people,’ said Peter.

‘I was wondering about insurance,’ said Ben. ‘The Abbey surely can’t afford it for the reliquary?’

‘Apparently the estate are funding that. The main beneficiary has agreed that, and is actually coming to see the play.’

‘Bloody hell!’ said Libby. ‘So why haven’t we heard anything about this beneficiary before?’

‘I don’t know, but apparently he or she thinks it’s good exposure for the pesky thing, and will increase the chances of a good price. It’s going up for auction, now, rather than a private sale.’

‘Alastair Beaumont might not be able to afford it, then,’ said Ben. ‘Pity.’

Rehearsals rolled on and were often blighted by rain. Final preparations were made, hundreds of yards of cabling were hidden among the ruins, and several large padlocks bought for the gardener’s shed, where all the lights were kept overnight. The security company patrolled the outside walls twice a night, and inside, using a side entrance at random times.

‘Wouldn’t want any Tom, Dick or Harry learning our routines, would we?’ said one of the security guards to Libby one evening as they packed up to go.

‘Must be costing a fortune,’ said Fran, as they arrived back at the pub in Steeple Martin, where Guy was meeting them.

‘It’s the beneficiary who’s paying again,’ said Libby. ‘He doesn’t want his precious bauble nicked before it makes a fortune at auction.’

‘Have you heard any more from Ian?’

Libby shook her head. ‘Nothing. It’s as though he’s dropped the case.’

‘I don’t suppose he has, but it’s very different looking into a forty-year-old murder to one committed yesterday,’ said Fran. ‘He’s probably trying to track down whoever left the thing to – what was his name?’

‘Bernard Evans. Yes, I expect so. I hope he remembers to tell us what he finds out.’

As Libby had predicted, Campbell McLean had been in touch and had already done a piece on the local news about the reliquary and the play, and on the first night was to bring a camera crew and interview Peter before the play began. However, he wasn’t allowed to film the reliquary, only to show the auction catalogue photograph.

‘Another security thing, I suppose,’ said Peter, telling them in the pub after the dress rehearsal. ‘It’s been a bit of a pain, hasn’t it?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘It hasn’t been too bad at all. And Martha and the other oblates have been having a high old time.’

Bob the Butcher leant forward. ‘Exactly what
is
an oblate?’

‘Someone who works alongside the nuns. They’re lay people, but very religious, and not bound by all the regulations that apply to the nuns. Also called alongsiders,’ explained Libby. ‘Martha’s the permanent resident, but they have others who come for short periods and live in, and others who live out.’

‘Doesn’t seem much of a life to me,’ said Bob. ‘No wonder they’re enjoying us lot.’

‘They go out and about helping people,’ said Libby vaguely. ‘At least, I think they do.’

‘Anyway, the publicity’s been good for ticket sales,’ said Ben. ‘We’ve almost sold out for all four performances.’

‘It does seem a lot of work for just four performances,’ said Libby.

‘It was all we were allowed if you remember,’ said Peter reprovingly. ‘And don’t forget most of the cast have day jobs.’

‘Oh, I know,’ said Libby. ‘Which is why we’re so thin on the ground in here tonight.’ She looked round. ‘Not many of the usual group.’

‘And we haven’t got our lovely bar to drink in after the show each night, so I don’t suppose we’ll get many any night,’ said Ben.

‘Until the last night,’ said Peter.

‘Well, of course. We’re having the after-show party in the theatre and it will be a Saturday,’ said Libby.

Peter grinned at her. ‘It’ll be worth it. I can’t believe how beautiful the production looks.’

‘Glad you’re pleased.’ Libby patted his arm. ‘Come on, then. Early night before the big day tomorrow.’

Ben, Libby and Peter arrived early at the Abbey the following day and stood looking at the graceful grey stone arches and carvings which would be their set.

‘I hope we do it justice,’ said Peter. ‘And I hope all the lighting won’t detract from it.’

‘It enhances it, what do you mean?’ said Libby in surprise.

‘I mean the physical lights. I hope they don’t intrude.’ Peter shrugged. ‘Oh well. I’m going to get them out of the shed and begin setting up.’

Libby trailed behind the two men and found Martha in the unlocked atrium polishing the glass case. She turned and smiled.

‘Big day today.’

‘It is.’ Libby peered into the case. ‘I’ve got quite fond of this old thing. Pity we never did find out its history.’

Martha sighed. ‘Well, you did find out quite a lot. Just not who stole it and murdered that man.’

‘Do you think it brings bad luck?’ Libby looked at the calm sensible face beside her.

Martha stared into the case. ‘N-no, not exactly,’ she said. ‘I just think it should have stayed in the monastery in the first place.’

‘What? Do you mean not gone back to Wales?’

‘Well, this was where she died.’

‘But the rest of her went to Canterbury, so this wouldn’t have stayed here anyway,’ said Libby.

‘No,’ said Martha with a sigh.

‘And she would have been lost in the Dissolution in any case.’

‘True.’ Martha turned with a sad smile. ‘My trouble is, I’m a bit of a romantic. Not the right thing, I suppose, for someone who lives as I do.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Even if you don’t want it for yourself, you can appreciate romance in others – although you’re not exactly talking about that sort of romance, are you?’

Martha laughed. ‘No, I wasn’t, but I know what you mean. I’ve been married, you know.’ She turned and gave the glass a last polish.

‘Oh – I’m sorry –’ began Libby.

‘No, no, it’s quite all right.’ Martha tucked the cloth into the large pocket in her pinafore. ‘I believed in the sanctity of marriage – he didn’t. In fact –’ she looked away ‘– I’m still married.’

‘Ah.’ Libby gazed fixedly out of the doors to where Ben and Peter between them were carrying two lamps and a quantity of cable.

‘Sorry.’ Martha gave a little laugh. ‘That conversation went a bit astray, didn’t it?’

‘Not at all,’ said Libby with relief. ‘They do, sometimes. Anyway, I’d better get over there and help with the set-up. Will you be staying here?’

‘I’m going to sneak over to watch the performance. I can lock this up while it’s on, can’t I?’

‘Good idea,’ said Libby. ‘Hope you enjoy it.’

In dribs and drabs the rest of the company trickled in. Sister Catherine appeared to wish them luck and announced that all the sisters had been given dispensation to watch the performance. This rather increased the nerves of the cast and Peter in particular, who started fidgeting round the lights and muttering.

‘God,’ said Libby inappropriately, as she adjusted her habit and wimple, ‘if he doesn’t shut up he’s going to have the whole cast collapsing from sheer fright.’

Outside the shed the light was beginning to fade. The floodlights were switched on, and the security guard radioed through that the first of the audience had arrived and the gates were being opened.

‘No one outside now,’ Peter said, coming through the door of the shed, fair hair flopping over a deep frown. ‘Sorry it’s so bloody crowded in here.’

A chorus of assurance lifted the frown a little, and he nodded and went out to see if the reliquary was safe.

‘Martha will be standing by it while members of the audience go and peer at it,’ said Libby, ‘then she’ll lock it up and come and watch us.’

‘Isn’t that a bit dangerous?’ asked Dominic. ‘Leaving it alone with all these strangers here?’

‘Not a bit,’ said Ben. ‘Anyone trying to get up to the atrium would have to get past us – or through us, come to that. There’s no other way, unless they go through the Abbey itself, and that’s locked up tighter than a drum.’

‘Why a drum?’ mused Fran, gazing out of the door. ‘I’ve always wondered.’

Libby smiled fondly at her.

The buzz of the audience grew louder and at last Peter came back to give them the three-minute call. The audience went quiet and the lights came up. Libby felt sure her heartbeat was visible though the thick black of her habit, and swallowed nervously. ‘Break a leg, everyone,’ she whispered, and moved forward.

An hour and three-quarters later they stood together bowing incessantly to a rapturous crowd. Eventually, Peter resolutely shepherded them back through the dark arches to their shed and surprised them by producing champagne.

‘Did you hear anything from the audience?’ Libby asked him as he topped up her glass. ‘Any comments, I mean?’

‘The only one I had to answer properly was why our nuns wore modern habits.’ He grinned. ‘I pointed out that medieval paintings showed monks and nuns in almost the same clothes as they wear now. At least we didn’t put you all in those dowdy grey jobs.’

‘The shorter ones, you mean? No, they lack a certain gravitas, don’t they?’ Libby sipped appreciatively. ‘Good idea, this.’

By the time they were all changed and the technical apparatus locked away there was no sign of either Martha or the sisters. The atrium was dark and the floodlights off. Libby and Ben stayed with Peter as he did his final locking up, and bade the security guard on duty goodnight.

‘How did your interview with Campbell go?’ asked Libby, as they climbed into Ben’s four by four. ‘I forgot to ask.’

‘Oh, fine. Just a little bit about its history and how we came to be doing the play. It’s only a filler, I think.’

‘Do we know when the beneficiary of the will is coming? Or was he there tonight?’ asked Ben.

‘I’ve no idea. We don’t even know if it’s male or female. I wonder if it will introduce itself?’

‘It might simply want to check the security arrangements,’ said Libby. ‘We might never know.’

The Thursday and Friday performances were equally well received, and glowing reports appeared in both Jane’s
Nethergate Mercury
and the large county newspaper. Ben reported a large number of requests for tickets sadly turned down, and all cast and crew members had friends and family trying to get in on their coat-tails.

‘A bit like the pantomimes,’ said Libby, as they drove, for the last time, towards the Abbey, ‘and the fight for tickets to them. Perhaps we ought to reprise this at the theatre.’

‘No.’ Peter shook his head firmly. ‘It was written to be performed at the Abbey, not in a theatre. And that reminds me, we shall have to organise a work party to go tomorrow and do the get-out. We can’t take it all tonight.’