LS 13 - Murder in a Different Place (17 page)

Chapter Thirty

‘But why? If they’ve been watching Harry, they’ll know we all know whatever it is they’re trying to keep secret. There were the other things – the note on the Island. And if the sisters are behind it …’

‘It looks to me as if it isn’t anything to do with the sisters,’ said Ian. ‘We’re now instigating a full investigation along with the Island police, who are going to talk to the ladies.’

‘Good luck,’ said Libby. ‘I bet they don’t get anything out of them.’

‘I don’t think they will either, but meanwhile, I shall be interviewing Ms Clipping. Not that I think she’ll be forthcoming – all she has to do is deny everything.’

‘She will, and look amused while she’s doing it,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder if she’ll tell you who the men were with her that day.’

‘She might, but then she might say they were completely different people.’

‘I’ve said this before,’ said Libby, ‘but I wish there were guest lists at funerals. They were both there at Matthew’s, although we didn’t notice them. The sisters told us, and Amanda confirmed it.’

‘What about the memorial service?’ said Ian.

‘I didn’t see them there, but it was so crowded I could have missed them. Amanda was there with the sisters and two older couples, one of whom must have been her parents, and we think the others were some people called Dougan, who were also at the funeral.’

‘We can find them and talk to them,’ said Ian.

‘Which we couldn’t,’ said Libby. ‘Now, I suppose I ought to tell you all about our discoveries this week.’

‘And make me a cup of tea while you’re doing it,’ said Ian, following her into the kitchen.

Libby related the story of Alfred Morton and included the stories of the sisters’ various pasts. She let Andrew stay out of the picture.

‘We’ll look into it, Lib, don’t worry.’ Ian took his mug from her. ‘And you can stay out of it.’

‘I’ll be glad to, as long as nothing happens to Harry,’ said Libby. ‘With some cases, it’s quite enjoyable nosing things out.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ said Ian with a smile.

‘But this is different. When a friend is threatened …’ Libby shrugged and led the way back to the sitting room.

‘It’s often personal with you, though, isn’t it?’ Ian sat down and looked at her over the top of his mug.

‘At first it was. Well, I could hardly help but be involved in our first murder, could I?’

‘I wasn’t around for that one,’ said Ian. ‘You had to deal with Mr Murray.’

‘Oh, yes, our Donnie.’ Libby smiled. ‘Bless him. You didn’t appear until the end of our second – what? Adventure? And we got into that because it was Fran’s aunt.’

‘I can’t say I ever expected to have Harry involved with anything,’ said Ian. ‘He’s always just been there. Being irreverent.’

‘Providing the light entertainment,’ agreed Libby. ‘Although remember that business over in Maidstone, with his friend Cy.’

‘I do,’ said Ian. ‘I remember all your er – adventures. Luckily, I do have other cases to distract me when you aren’t in – in –’

‘Investigating?’ suggested Libby.

‘I was going to say “In trouble”,’ said Ian and drank the rest of his tea. ‘I’m going now. I’ll call in at the station on the way home and put a few enquiries in train, then I’ll see if I can’t salvage the rest of my day off.’

‘I’m sorry, Ian.’ Libby was contrite.

‘It was hardly your fault, was it?’ Ian bent and dropped a kiss on Libby’s cheek. ‘Don’t get up, I’ll see myself out. And,’ he paused at the door, ‘be careful.’

Libby stared after him. He wasn’t
flirting
, was he? She shook her head and stood up. Of course he wasn’t. Ian was a friend. A man who had once dated Fran and who had always known her, Libby, as part of a couple with Ben, whom he liked.

‘So stop it,’ she said aloud. ‘I wish people could stop being attractive once you’re in a committed relationship.’

With this rather scrambled statement, she took herself out into the garden and took a determined trowel to the weeds.

When Ben and Libby arrived at The Pink Geranium that evening Fran and Guy were already sitting at the big window table with Peter and Andrew. Harry appeared with bottles of wine and demanded to know what Ian had said that afternoon before he went and cooked their dinner. Libby related it all. Except the kiss on the cheek.

‘And I didn’t mention Andrew at all,’ she finished. ‘That isn’t my story to tell, and anyway, nothing to do with the break-in or any of the rest of it.’

Andrew looked thoughtful. ‘You know, I think I ought to see this Inspector and tell him my part of the story.’

Harry looked doubtful, but Fran nodded.

‘I think that’s a good idea, if you don’t mind doing it. Ian’s very discreet and understanding.’

‘He’s had to be, dealing with you two over the years,’ said Guy.

‘I’d really like to hear some of your adventures,’ said Andrew, when the laughter had died down. ‘Harry was telling me a little bit about it.’

‘I think the boys would be bored,’ said Libby.

‘They don’t really approve,’ agreed Fran.

‘But you’ve been in on this one,’ said Peter. ‘We all have.’

‘It all started,’ began Ben surprisingly, ‘when we were rehearsing for the first production in our theatre.’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll send someone to take your order. Don’t leave out my heroic roles, will you?’

By the time they had worked their way through their meals and three bottles of wine, Andrew knew most of what had happened to Libby and Fran over the last few years.

‘And this Ian has been involved in all of that?’ he said, when they’d finished laughing at a remembered incident.

‘Well, mostly. He’s our policeman of choice. We’re very lucky,’ Libby avoided Fran’s eyes, ‘that he became a proper friend, and he knew he could rely on some of Fran’s moments.’

‘He came to our wedding.’ Guy put his hand over Fran’s and they smiled at each other.

‘He didn’t come to ours,’ said Peter, poking the remains of a chocolate empanada. ‘We didn’t know him well enough then.’

‘I must admit to being intrigued about your “moments”.’ Andrew put his elbows on the table and leant towards Fran, who coloured faintly.

‘I don’t know much about them myself,’ she said. ‘They just happen. I don’t seem to have any control over them.’

‘And not so frequently these days,’ said Libby.

‘They’ve come to your rescue several times,’ said Ben.

‘And Ian trusts them,’ said Peter. ‘In fact that’s why they’ve got involved sometimes, because Ian asks Fran in. He did that with the Anderson Place business.’

‘But Harry asked me to investigate because his friend Danny was a suspect that time,’ said Libby.

‘I don’t think I can sort all these murders out,’ laughed Andrew. ‘You certainly seem to have a knack of getting involved.’

‘It’s just that one leads to another, really,’ said Libby modestly.

‘And the fact that you’re incurably nosy,’ said Ben.

‘It’s a thought, though,’ said Libby, as she and Ben walked home later. ‘I know we’ve said it before, but Fran does seem to have switched off.’

‘She had a couple of thoughts while we were on the Island, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, but all very vague. I want her to have a real, concrete vision. Like she did over that witchcraft business at St Aldeberge’s.’

‘I don’t think she can work to order,’ said Ben.

‘But she did when she was employed by that estate agency. He used to send her into houses and expect her to sense something.’

‘I know, and I used her too, as you know, but she was in practice, then. She isn’t, now.’

‘Oh, well,’ sighed Libby, ‘we’ll just have to rely on dear old Ian, won’t we?’

‘Did you give him the number plate of the car you saw this morning?’

‘I gave the officer at the scene the number,’ said Libby. ‘What I could remember of it. You always tell yourself that when you see a car doing something dangerous you’ll automatically remember the number, but you don’t. I’m afraid I didn’t even register the make. It was new, longish, and silver, that’s all.’

‘And,’ said Libby the following Sunday morning, ‘it was caught on CCTV on the Canterbury Road.’ She smiled triumphantly at Ben across the breakfast table as she relayed the news.

‘Bloody hell, the poor bloke’s been in to work early on a Sunday, hasn’t he?’ said Ben, forking up bacon.

‘They called him yesterday evening, apparently, which didn’t please him as he was out.’ Libby paused. ‘I wonder where? Where does he go on his days and nights off? Do you think he’s got a girlfriend?’

‘Wouldn’t you have winkled that out of him by now?’

‘No.’ Libby sighed. ‘He can be very close when he wants to be.’

‘So what else did he tell you?’

‘Sadly, the car was stolen. Reported missing on Thursday from somewhere in south London. It was found abandoned in Surrey somewhere. Actually, parked up quite neatly and completely wiped clean.’

‘A professional?’ Ben raised an eyebrow.

‘If it was someone hired to frighten Harry, I suppose.’ Libby shook her head. ‘Anyway, that’s all at the moment. So what are we doing today?’

Ben looked surprised. ‘I don’t know, apart from going to lunch with Hetty. Why?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I’d just like to get out for a bit. Somewhere we don’t normally go, make a proper little trip.’

Ben looked doubtful. ‘Do you want me to put Hetty off?’

‘No, no, she’ll have done all the preparation now, you know what she’s like. And she’d be so disappointed. No, I just thought we could go out for the morning and come back for about half past one.’

‘We could. What are you up to?’ said Ben suspiciously.

‘Nothing. I mean it. I just want to get away from the village and Nethergate, if it comes to that, and blow the cobwebs away.’

‘Really? Well, in that case, how about a look at Samphire Hoe? We keep saying we’ll go.’

‘Lovely!’ Libby bounced up from her chair. ‘I’ll go and find my walking boots.’

‘Your awful trainers, you mean,’ said Ben with a grin. ‘Go on, then.’

Samphire Hoe was opened in 1997 as the result of the excavations for the Channel Tunnel. It had been turned into a nature reserve and was now the home to various rare species of plants, animals and insects. Easy to get to, and easy to walk around for lazy walkers like Libby, it had the sea on one side and the cliffs on the other and, on this Sunday morning, a lot of other visitors.

‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ Libby looked down on to the sea and across to the busy port of Dover.

‘Yes, but actually, I preferred those cliff tops on the Island,’ said Ben. ‘Less managed.’

‘We weren’t going to talk about that,’ reproved Libby, ‘but yes, I know what you mean.’

‘Want a cup of tea here, or shall we head back?’

‘It’s too crowded,’ said Libby, ‘and the tea will be awful, anyway. Come on, back to the car.’

On the drive back from Dover, Libby switched on her mobile, which, in the interests of peace, had been off throughout the journey.

‘Message from Peter,’ she said. ‘It says he’s been ringing.’ She called Peter’s number.

‘Lib? Thank goodness. Where the hell are you? We’ve been trying to raise you all morning.’

‘Why? What’s up?’ Libby felt the awful feeling in the solar plexus normally known as heart sinking.

‘It’s Harry. He’s been hurt.’

Chapter Thirty-one

‘Hurt? Where? How badly?’ Libby turned horrified eyes to Ben.

‘I found him in the garden this morning. He must have heard something …We’re at the hospital now.’

‘We’re on our way back from Dover,’ said Libby. ‘We’ll come straight to the hospital.’

‘We’re not in Canterbury,’ said Peter. ‘We’re in bloody Ashford.’

‘Do you want us to come?’ said Libby.

‘Yes, please. I came in the ambulance, so I can’t get home.’

‘All right. We’re coming up to the Canterbury slip road now, so we’ll be with you in –’ She turned to Ben. ‘Ashford?’

‘Twenty minutes. Are you still in A & E?’

‘No. They’ve whisked him off. Ask at the reception. They’ll have the details, because the police have been here all morning. Ian came.’

‘OK. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.’

Libby switched off the phone and relayed the news to Ben.

‘So someone really is out to get him,’ he said. ‘And the only thing I can think of is Matthew’s money.’

‘His gran’s money,’ said Libby. ‘I agree. I can’t see anyone going after Harry to keep something quiet, as we’ve already said. It must be someone who expected to get something in Matthew’s will who didn’t.’

‘But did they know about his gran?’ said Ben. ‘Did they know that Harry was going to get that money as well as whatever he got from Matthew?’

‘We don’t know if he actually got money from Matthew. We know he got Ship House and the Beach House.’

‘Useless speculating now,’ said Ben, as he drove as fast as he could along the A28.

They found Peter sitting miserably in a waiting area with a uniformed officer trying to fade into the background.

‘So what exactly happened?’ asked Libby as they sat down on either side of him.

‘I woke up and found he was already up. That didn’t bother me – I thought he’d gone down to make tea and would be back in a moment. After a bit, I thought I’d go down and see what was keeping him.’ Peter paused and wiped his hand over his face. ‘And then I saw the back door was open. And he was on the floor. On the concrete. I thought … I thought …’

‘Yes,’ said Libby, squeezing his arm. ‘So then you called the police?’

‘Ambulance, but they said the police would attend as well. Then I rang the doctor over the road, who came dashing over in his dressing gown,’ Peter managed a shaky laugh, ‘and was brilliant. He couldn’t do much, as he said he’d be disturbing the evidence, but he made sure Hal was breathing and – oh, I don’t know exactly what he did, but when the paramedics arrived they seemed pleased. The first officers on the scene weren’t too pleased, though. I’m afraid I lost my temper with them, and told them I’d sic DCI Connell on to them. Then they got on to him – or the station – pretty quickly, I can tell you.’

‘So what had happened to him?’ asked Ben.

‘The traditional blunt instrument. Removed of course. Luckily, Ian turned up very soon after that. Someone at the station had seen the call come in on the wire and told him, and of course, he came straight away. Good job he did, or I’d still be at home being questioned by those two oafs.’

‘Weren’t they going to let you go in the ambulance?’ said Libby.

‘No, of course not! I’d just been found alone with the victim! I was the obvious suspect.’

‘Lucky Ian knew all about the case then,’ said Ben.

‘He called in his forensics people and left the two officers in charge, then followed the ambulance. He certainly gets things done when he’s on the case.’

‘He was good when you ended up here, too,’ Libby said to Ben. ‘So does he have any ideas? And what about Harry? How badly hurt is he?’

‘They’re worried about bleeding on the brain.’ Peter shuddered. ‘They’ve got to keep him under until they can assess the damage. Then if it’s safe, they’ll operate. And I’m afraid Ian’s latched on to poor Andrew.’

‘
Andrew
? Why?’

‘He turned up because he saw the ambulance. He was just about to leave. So of course, Ian wanted to know …’ Peter shrugged. ‘Anyway, more-or-less told him to stay put, and now he’s gone off to question him.’

‘Well, I suppose it might look suspicious. Someone from Matthew’s past turns up and the very next day there’s an attempt on the caff, and now an attack on Harry. And Andrew due to leave this morning.’ Libby frowned. ‘You don’t believe it, do you?’

‘No, I don’t,’ said Peter, ‘but you’re right, it does look suspicious. I hope Andrew can convince Ian.’

A doctor appeared through swing doors and approached Peter. Ben and Libby moved away. After a moment, the doctor disappeared and Peter turned to them.

‘They’re keeping him under for the time being,’ he said, ‘but all the signs are he’ll be fine. I won’t be able to see him or talk to him until later, so they’ve suggested I go home and collect some stuff for him.’

‘Good idea.’ Ben looked at his watch. ‘And just in time for lunch with Hetty.’

Hetty was unfazed by the arrival of an extra guest, probably because she cooked enough to feed the whole village every weekend. As she served slices of perfectly cooked roast lamb, fragrant with garlic and rosemary, Peter told her about Harry..

‘I’ve just thought,’ said Libby, helping herself to roast potatoes, ‘what about the caff? Did he have any bookings this lunchtime?’

‘I called Donna, and she came down to go through the books, bless her. Brought the baby with her. It’s a good job she’s used to unsocial hours.’

Donna, who had been Harry’s right-hand woman in The Pink Geranium for years, was now married to a registrar at the hospital in Canterbury and worked for Harry doing accounts and occasionally bailing him out (as with the trips to the Isle of Wight) when he needed it.

‘Shame her husband’s not at Ashford, then we might get inside info on Hal,’ said Libby.

‘I don’t think we’d get it,’ said Ben. ‘The medical profession is very wary of giving information to anyone.’

‘Do you think we should check on Andrew?’ Libby asked towards the end of the meal. ‘In case Ian’s stopped him from leaving?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Peter, reluctantly, ‘although I don’t know what I’d say to him.’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll do it,’ said Ben. ‘You just get off back to the hospital with Hal’s best pyjamas.’

‘Oh!’ Peter put his hand to his mouth. ‘We don’t wear pyjamas.’

Hetty stood up. ‘Bought some new ones for Greg just before – Anyway, still in the packet. Tall bloke, like your Harry. Want them?’

‘Hetty, you’re a lifesaver.’ Peter gave her a kiss. ‘Yes, please.’

When Peter left with the blue-striped pyjamas, Ben used the estate office’s landline to call the pub and asked for Andrew.

‘Yes, I’m still here,’ came the weary reply. ‘Your tame policeman was very nice, but rather wearing. I don’t know if I’m off the suspect list or not.’

‘So has he asked you to stay put?’

‘For the time being, he said. I guess so that he can check up on the information I’ve given him.’

‘Did you tell him about you and Matthew and you and your wife?’

Andrew sighed. ‘I felt I should. I’m sure he’s far too discreet to let any of the information out unless it’s relevant.’

‘No, he won’t,’ said Ben.

‘How’s Harry? Do you know?’

Ben told him as much as they knew, and that Peter was going back to the hospital.

‘They wouldn’t let me see him, of course?’ Andrew sounded wistful.

‘Even Peter couldn’t see him this morning, and he’s next of kin, so it’ll be a while, especially if they keep him in an induced coma.’

‘Poor Harry. And poor me. If he could wake up, at least the police would know it wasn’t me.’

‘We don’t know that he saw or recognised his attacker,’ said Ben. ‘Far more likely that he didn’t.’

‘Where was the blow? It was a blow to the head, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but I have no idea where it was. We’ll keep you posted.’

‘Have you eaten today? I was going to book dinner here in the pub.’

‘We’ve just had Sunday lunch with my mother – it’s tradition. But Libby and I could perhaps join you for a drink this evening after you’ve eaten? If you’d like us to.’

‘I would, very much. I’m rather bored and lonely, and now very anxious indeed. About eight thirty, then?’

Ben informed Libby when he returned to the kitchen, where she and Hetty were finishing off the last of the claret.

‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘He’s a nice old boy, and I really don’t think he’s got any motive for hurting Hal.’

‘Unless he expected something from Matthew’s will,’ said Ben.

‘He’s rich enough, so’s his wife,’ said Libby. ‘And he’s far too frail to go hitting tall young men over the head.’

When Libby and Ben got home later that afternoon they found Ian Connell just turning away from the door of number seventeen.

‘I was just about to come up to the Manor to see if you were there.’

‘We were,’ said Libby. ‘Is this a formal visit?’

‘No, not really.’ Ian followed them into the house. ‘I could do with tea, though?’ He looked hopeful. Libby grinned and went into the kitchen.

‘So what do you want to tell me?’ he said when Libby had provided mugs all round.

‘Tell you?’ Libby was surprised.

‘Don’t you want to tell me about Andrew McColl?’

Ben and Libby looked at each other. Libby sighed.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘When you met him. What he’s told you, his relationship with Harry and with Matthew DeLaxley.’

‘I expect he’s told you everything already. He said he had,’ said Ben.

‘Oh, you’ve been in touch?’

‘Yes. We thought you might have put him under curfew, so we thought we ought to check up on him and tell him what we knew about Harry,’ said Libby. ‘We’re having a drink with him this evening.’

‘Be careful about what you tell him,’ said Ian.

‘Oh, you can’t seriously think he’s got anything to do with all this?’ said Libby. ‘That old man?’

‘That old man, you must remember, is an actor who is still working, and used to be known for his stage fighting skills,’ said Ian.

‘But not now he’s in his eighties,’ said Ben. ‘And what would his motive be?’

‘To keep his relationship with DeLaxley quiet?’

‘Rubbish. We didn’t even know he had one until he told us – all of us – when he appeared here the other day.’

Ian’s face relaxed slightly. ‘Yes, that’s what he said. So Harry didn’t know about him before?’

‘Well, strictly speaking, he did. So did we,’ said Ben. ‘He was the person Matthew referred to as Lucifer. But he can’t have been behind the earlier letter. He went to Matthew’s solicitor to find Harry, and the solicitor called Harry to ask his permission first. Andrew wouldn’t have known who Harry was any more than Hal knew him.’

‘That’s what he says,’ said Ian, ‘But he could be lying.’

‘Well,’ said Libby with a sigh, ‘I suppose you have to be suspicious of everybody.’

‘Except you, luckily. Oh, and by the way, I heard from the Isle of Wight police. They’ve traced Keith Franklin.’

‘Really?’ Libby sat up straight. ‘Where?’

‘He’s living in Amanda Clipping’s house.’