LS 13 - Murder in a Different Place (4 page)

Chapter Four

At half past eight, Harry led Peter, Ben, and Libby up the path to the sisters’ slightly dilapidated house, perched on a ridge overlooking the cove.

‘See,’ Harry pointed, ‘along the path that goes into the wood. That looks down to the Beach House.’

‘So the sisters must have windows on that side, because they said they could look down on the cove while they were waiting for the storm to pass,’ said Libby.

‘And they didn’t see anything suspicious,’ said Peter.

‘No, because they didn’t sit down to watch until after Matthew and Alicia had gone to hospital. Celia would have been dead long before that.’

The front door of the house opened and Amelia waved.

‘We’ve left the computer in Matthew’s house in case we couldn’t hook it up to what ever it needs in ours. I’ll fetch the key.’

Libby turned to look at Matthew’s house next door. A complete contrast to the sisters’ Victorian stone cottage: it was more like Ship House, a dark timber-clad building with a wide deck overlooking the cove. Behind the wall of glass stood a large, professional-looking telescope. Libby frowned.

Amelia returned followed by Alicia and Honoria.

‘We have to go in at the front,’ said Alicia, leading them round to the more prosaic landward side, where a small hand-carved sign announced it to be The Shelf.

‘Matthew said it was because it sat on a shelf of rock,’ explained Honoria. She shrugged. ‘Fanciful.’

‘I think it’s rather nice,’ said Libby, and Harry smiled at her.

Alicia led the way through the house to the large sitting room that took over the whole of the seaward side. Against the left-hand wall stood a beautiful old desk on top of which, looking rather apologetic, sat a very large computer.

‘State of the art,’ said Peter, raising his eyebrows.

‘Was he still working?’ asked Ben.

‘He still got commissions,’ said Amelia.

‘And an occasional – oh, what did he call them?’ said Alicia. ‘Brain piece, was it?’

‘Think piece,’ said Peter. ‘Basically an opinion on something topical or relevant to life as we know it.’

‘Yes, well, he had opinions,’ said Amelia. ‘Too many of them, if you ask me.’

‘Who’s going to have a go at the computer?’ asked Ben.

‘Harry and I’ said Peter. ‘I’m probably the best one for the technology and Harry knew him best.’

Libby turned back to the sisters, who were waiting in a patient row in front of the long couch.

‘You said you found Matthew collapsed by the French windows?’

‘Yes,’ said Alicia. ‘I know they aren’t really French windows, they’re just sliding glass.’

‘Where exactly?’ asked Libby.

The sisters looked startled.

‘Er –’ said Alicia.

‘That side, wasn’t it?’ said Honoria.

‘Just there,’ said Amelia.

‘Right by the telescope,’ said Libby.

There was a sudden silence, then Ben whistled. ‘Of course!’

‘Of course what?’ said Alicia, still looking bewildered.

‘He probably saw Celia killed,’ said Libby.

Alicia’s hand flew to her mouth, Amelia’s to her chest, and Honoria’s hit the back of the couch.

Peter nodded slowly and moved towards the telescope. ‘Have you looked through this since that night?’

The sisters all shook their heads. Peter bent down and looked. When he stood up, he beckoned Libby, but before she could join him Amelia rushed forward.

‘I want to see.’

Peter obligingly stood aside.

‘I can’t see!’ Amelia wailed and stood aside. ‘Why can’t I?’

‘Because Matthew was taller than you are,’ grunted Honoria. ‘Let me have a look.’ She strode over and bent to the eyepiece. After a moment she stood up and nodded, her expression grim. ‘Beach House.’

Amelia and Alicia sat down abruptly on the couch.

‘He might not have seen Celia killed,’ said Honoria. ‘She was inside.’

‘Was she, though?’ said Fran.

‘He might have seen her killer,’ said Libby. ‘I expect he was watching to see what happened as he’d sent her down there.’

‘But he would be expecting to see the killer if he’d sent her,’ said Harry. ‘Perhaps it was something else he saw.’

‘Or didn’t see,’ said Ben. ‘He didn’t see Celia come out.’

There was another silence.

‘I expect we’re jumping to conclusions,’ said Libby. ‘We can’t know if that was what happened, but it does seem to be a workable theory.’

‘It’s not a workable theory,’ said Amelia angrily. ‘You’re talking about my dead sister.’

‘Ssh, dear,’ said Alicia, patting her sister’s hand. ‘We asked Libby and her friends here because we think Celia was killed. We can’t complain when they do their job.’

Uncomfortable with having sheer nosiness called a job, Libby said hastily, ‘We’re not being thoughtless, just trying to see if there’s any proof. We have to – well, the police should – look at – um, well – all angles.’ She shifted her feet and looked at the floor.

‘Let’s look at the computer,’ said Peter after a moment, and they all turned thankfully to the desk. He turned on the power, and after a short wait up came the password prompt. ‘Here we go, Hal, first hurdle.’

‘What do you mean, hurdle?’ said Honoria.

‘We can’t open the computer without a password,’ explained Libby. ‘This could be difficult.’

‘Try Lucifer,’ said Harry.

‘Lucifer?’ echoed everyone else. Peter typed it in and the screen sprang to life.

‘Why Lucifer?’ asked Alicia. ‘Harry, dear, you were close to Matthew. Why that word?’

Harry shot a quick look at Peter. ‘He – er – knew someone of that name.’

Harry? wondered Libby, or the mysterious love of Matthew’s life?

‘Someone in newspapers, was it?’ asked Amelia. ‘One of those silly columnists who hide behind stupid names?’

‘Something like that,’ muttered Harry.

‘Here’s the email account,’ said Peter. ‘Seems he used a web-based provider. Another password.’ He turned to the sisters diplomatically. ‘Any ideas?’

They looked at each other.

‘One of our names?’ suggested Alicia doubtfully.

‘Three – no, four – sisters,’ said Libby. ‘Figure four.’

‘Happy days,’ murmured Harry. ‘All one word.’

The email page opened. The sisters gaped at Harry.

That’s Harry, thought Libby. So Lucifer is the other one. But why Lucifer? The Devil?

‘We discussed it,’ said Harry. ‘I was – well – up to date with computers and stuff.’

‘And we weren’t,’ said Honoria with a grunt. ‘Don’t worry, Harry. We won’t mind.’

Amelia looked as it she were about to say something, but a look from Alicia silenced her.

‘Exactly.’ Alicia nodded. ‘We wouldn’t expect him to talk about things like that with us.’

‘There’s an email from you here, Hal.’ Peter was scanning the inbox.

‘Really?’ Harry was surprised. ‘I haven’t emailed Matthew – hadn’t – for months.’

Peter nodded. ‘It’s dated February.’

‘And it’s still showing up?’ Libby went to look over Peter’s shoulder. ‘That must mean he’d only had a few emails since then. Isn’t that odd?’

‘Who are the others?’ asked Ben.

Peter turned to the sisters, now sitting side by side on the couch. ‘Would you come and look at some of these to see if you recognise any names?’

The sisters crowded round him and peered at the screen, three pairs of spectacles on chains being raised.

‘I don’t understand these.’ Amelia shook her head. ‘What’s “Frenchie98”?’

‘An email name,’ said Libby. ‘Open it, Pete. See if there’s a signature.’

“Frenchie98” turned out to be a former associate telling Matthew about an assignment he’d been given and asking for advice. They worked back from the most recent email a few weeks before Matthew had died, but found nothing in the least odd. Some people the sisters recognised, some Harry and even Peter recognised, but there was no intimation of threats, blackmail or anything untoward.

Peter sat back, and the sisters resumed their seats on the couch.

‘Another email account?’ suggested Libby.

Peter turned to the bookmarks. ‘Nothing I can see.’

‘Do you want us to go on looking?’ asked Harry, going to sit on the arm of the couch beside Alicia. ‘We don’t want to do anything that might upset you.’

Amelia was once more silenced by her sisters.

‘Go on,’ said Honoria, and stood up. ‘Come on, girls. Let’s leave them to it.’

Amelia was reluctantly herded out, and an almost audible sense of relief settled on the room.

‘I could do with a drink,’ said Libby.

‘Matthew wouldn’t mind,’ said Harry. ‘I bet there’s something around here.’

He prowled the room and discovered several bottles inside a glass cabinet.

‘Here. Whisky, gin, and vodka. Vodka? He never drank vodka. Pink gin, he liked.’

‘Do you think we should?’ said Libby doubtfully. ‘The sisters might not like it.’

‘Especially Amelia,’ said Ben with a grin.

Libby’s objections were overruled, and Harry found glasses and served them all.

‘Have a look at some of the files,’ suggested Ben when they were grouped once more round the desk.

‘There are loads of them,’ said Peter. ‘He seems to have kept every piece he’d written for the last twenty years.’

‘On a computer?’ said Libby surprised. ‘Did they have them then?’

The three men turned and looked at her.

‘Oh, OK, then. They did. But wouldn’t they have been on an old computer?’

‘He would have transferred all the files each time he upgraded,’ said Peter. ‘I suppose I could look at the earliest files, but I’ve got a feeling that if there’s anything on here it’s well hidden.’

‘How would this blackmailer, if that’s what it was, have got in touch, then?’ said Libby.

Harry went and lay down on the couch. ‘How about old-fashioned phone? Safer than email. I bet we wouldn’t find anything on there. Unless we had one of those experts the police use. Pity we can’t get old Ian to give us a hand.’

Detective Chief Inspector Ian Connell, a sometime friend back in Kent, frequently had to accept help from Libby in various murder cases. Not that he always accepted it willingly, though, to be fair, he had been known to save her bacon when she blundered too far into a case.

‘Well, he’s not here now,’ said Peter, ‘and I think you’re right, Hal. We won’t find anything incriminating on here. Who’d keep something where anyone could find it?’

‘Not anyone,’ said Ben. ‘We can’t. And you’re our resident computer expert.’

‘I think the only thing we’ve got to give us an idea is that little book,’ said Libby. ‘Although if that is what the blackmailer – killer – wanted, why is it still there?’

‘And frankly, if there was anything in there that
was
incriminating, why had Matthew kept it?’ said Peter.

‘Perhaps there wasn’t.’ Harry was sounding far more like himself. ‘Perhaps that little book was just in the Beach House and had nothing to do with anything. Perhaps Celia just went down there to tell whoever-it-was to bugger off.’

They all looked at him in surprise.

‘That’s actually the most likely scenario,’ said Peter. ‘We’ve been trying to complicate matters.’

‘As usual,’ said Ben, with a look at Libby.

‘But there still has to be something that got Celia killed and that Matthew was worried about,’ said Libby obstinately.

‘Or maybe – just maybe – Celia went down there to secure something because Matthew knew there was a storm coming. And it wasn’t murder at all, but a simple accident as the police thought,’ said Ben.

Libby sighed. ‘So we’re simply pandering to the old ladies?’

Peter looked round at them all. ‘No, I don’t think so. I think Matthew was worried about something. And why send Celia to the Beach House without telling the others. And why had he been looking through the telescope at the Beach House when he collapsed?’

‘We don’t know that for sure,’ said Libby.

‘It was you who spotted it,’ said Harry.

‘I suggest we wait until tomorrow when Fran arrives,’ said Peter. ‘Perhaps she’ll get something from the little book, or the Beach House itself. And if she has the slightest inkling of trouble, then we carry on. All right?’

Chapter Five

When Fran and Guy Wolfe drove off the ferry at Fishbourne, Libby and Ben were there to meet them.

‘We thought you could follow us across the island, and we’d maybe stop for a late lunch somewhere,’ said Libby.

‘That sounds good,’ said Fran. ‘Where are Peter and Harry?’

‘Still at Ship House. Harry’s cooking something for this evening’s meal. Says he’s getting withdrawal symptoms.’

Ben drove across the Island, making sure Guy could keep up. Summer vegetation was obscuring most of the road signs on the narrow roads, not conducive to the visitor’s ease of travel. Somewhere in the middle, they stopped at a pub, where they settled in the large garden. While Guy and Ben went to order drinks and fetch a menu, Fran put her head on one side and gave Libby a long look.

‘Well?’

Libby sighed. ‘What do you think?’

‘Something to do with Harry. Is that why you wanted to meet us on your own?’

‘I shall never get used to you and your moments,’ said Libby.

‘Neither shall I,’ came the surprising answer. ‘But that’s what I feel and there’s no getting away from it. So tell me.’

Libby started the story and then had to go back over it for Guy’s benefit.

‘So you see, we’re stuck. The sisters asked us to stay because they think Celia was murdered, and we don’t want to abuse their hospitality, but so far we can’t find any proof. Peter said we should wait for you to pronounce.’

‘Nice of him,’ said Fran wryly. Her dark bob fell forward screening her face as she leant forward to pick up her drink.

‘Come on, Fran – what?’ said Libby. ‘You’re hiding something.’

Fran sat back in her chair. ‘Why did you want to tell me this while Harry wasn’t here?’

‘Well –’ Libby looked at Ben. ‘Because Harry hasn’t been himself since we got here. And you know he was a bit like that at home, too. And we now know he was much closer to Matthew than we thought. Peter didn’t even know he’d been over here.’

‘But not after Pete and Harry met,’ said Ben. ‘And Matthew introduced them.’

‘And Harry knew – or guessed – the computer passwords,’ said Libby. ‘Although, to be fair, after we’d had a look at the computer he seemed more himself, didn’t he?’ She looked at Ben.

‘Because he knows you won’t find anything on there,’ said Fran.

The other three looked at her, shocked.

‘You think there’s something to find – about Hal?’ said Libby.

‘I think Harry
thinks
there is,’ said Fran. ‘I won’t know until I’ve seen him.’

‘In that case, let’s forget about it and order food,’ said Ben. ‘Only remember Harry’s cooking tonight – don’t eat too much.’

Later, they parked at the top of Overcliffe and Libby led the way past the sisters’ cottage and The Shelf.

‘Along there’s a path along the cliff where you can see into the other cove and the Beach House,’ she said, pointing past the sisters’ house. She turned the other way. ‘And look, there’s the telescope in the window. That’s where Matthew was found.’

Fran stood looking at telescope for a long moment, then turned. ‘Come on, I’m looking forward to seeing Ship House and the boys.’

Peter and Harry greeted Fran and Guy with kisses and handshakes and offered tea or coffee.

‘I want to explore the beach,’ said Fran. ‘It’s simply gorgeous here, isn’t it?’

‘A cross between Cornwall and the coast of Turkey,’ said Guy.

‘I didn’t know you’d been to Turkey,’ said Libby, surprised.

Guy grinned. ‘You don’t what I got up to before I met you and Fran. And I know this little coastal village in Turkey that you’d love. I’ll take you all there one day.’

‘I thought Turkey was all resorts and high-rise hotels these days,’ said Ben.

‘Not this place,’ said Guy. ‘When you go out on a boat, all you can see from the bay is a tiny line of low buildings at the foot of green mountains.’

‘Could we go?’ Libby asked, turning to Ben. ‘It sounds wonderful.’

‘I shall remind you that we are currently on holiday on the Isle of Wight,’ said Peter, ‘and here to do a job. At least, you are.’

Libby pulled a face. ‘I wish we weren’t. I almost feel that they got us here on false pretences.’

‘If that was the only way they could get you to help, that makes sense,’ said Fran, ever practical. ‘Now, who’s going to show us the beach?’

Everyone except Harry, who was still pottering in the kitchen, opted to show Fran and Guy the extent of their limited world. The walked along the beach to their right, past the two cafés and the few houses, some of which were holiday lets. At that end of the bay, a few fishing boats were drawn up, with more lobster pots and netting spread out to dry.

‘It’s lovely,’ said Fran. ‘And now, can we see the Beach House?’

They retraced their steps along the beach, past Ship House, the little clinker boat, the boathouse, the crab pots and cottages, before clambering over rocks into the next bay. Fran stopped, looking at the ruined Beach House.

‘What about the people at the funeral?’

The rest of the party looked surprised.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Libby.

‘Was there anyone there any of you had known before?’

‘There were a couple of journalists,’ said Peter, ‘but nobody else.’

‘Harry might have known someone,’ said Libby, ‘but he didn’t say anything.’

Fran walked forward until she was right in front of the ruins. The others stayed silent. She walked round to the other side.

‘Was this where you found the diary?’ she called.

‘That’s it,’ said Ben, going to join her.

‘So it was a diary?’ said Libby, following.

Fran smiled at her. ‘I’ve no idea. I’ll see if I can get anything on it. I’ve been practising.’

‘Why did you ask about people at the funeral?’ Guy came round the other way.

‘Just a feeling. Don’t murderers turn up at the funerals of their victims?’ said Fran.

‘But Matthew wasn’t murdered,’ said Peter.

‘Of course he was. Indirectly,’ said Fran.

They fell silent.

‘Well,’ said Libby cautiously after a moment, ‘we did actually say that ourselves after we guessed he’d collapsed at the telescope.’

‘Did you ask Harry which of those passwords were his nickname?’ asked Fran.

‘I did,’ said Peter, frowning. ‘It was Happydays. Figures.’

‘Oh, Pete,’ said Libby. ‘It was all before you even met Hal. And Matthew introduced you.’

‘I know.’ Peter sighed. ‘It’s bloody difficult, though. I know there’s more in Hal’s background that I don’t know. He won’t talk about his childhood, just the occasional slip. And I didn’t know he’d kept as closely in touch with Matthew as he had.’

‘I think Matthew was more like a father than anything else,’ said Fran firmly. ‘And, however this goes, I think we’re all going to find out more than we might want.’

Back at Ship House, Harry had made tea and Fran asked for the book.

‘I don’t think we’ll ever be able to open it,’ she said, turning it over in her hands. ‘But if I keep holding it I might come up with something.’

Libby came over and peered at it. ‘It’s blue, isn’t it? And that’s a bit of gold edging on the paper. It looks like an old-fashioned address book.’

‘It could still be a diary,’ said Peter, bringing mugs of tea. ‘They still make them like that.’

‘With gold on the edges?’ asked Libby.

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘Any idea if it might have something to do with Celia’s death?’ asked Ben.

Fran shook her head. ‘Nothing at all, yet.’ She looked up at them all. ‘I can tell you that I knew there was something wrong, something to do with Harry, before we even set out.’

Harry looked dubious. Fran smiled at him. ‘Obviously what I was picking up on was your distress, nothing about your friend Matthew or his cousin. So whether we’ll be able to get to the bottom of whatever it is, I’ve no idea.’

‘Will you come and meet the sisters?’ asked Peter. ‘They’re quite a triple act.’

‘If they want to meet us,’ said Fran. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

‘They asked if I – we – would look into Celia’s death. I’m sure they will want to meet you.’

‘Have you told them about me?’

‘Er –’ Libby looked round at the others. ‘Did I?’

Harry finished the last of the tea in his mug and stood up. ‘I’m going to go up on my own and tell them. Although I didn’t meet them in the past, they’ve known I was a close friend of Matthew’s for a long time. I told them about you and Libby getting involved with stuff, and they knew about the Oast Theatre from Matthew. I think they’ll be fine with it all, but I want to be the one to tell them.’

‘OK.’ Peter stood up and patted his arm. ‘Anything we need to do about dinner while you’re gone?’

‘Why did he do that?’ asked Libby, watching through the plate glass doors as Harry began to climb towards the sisters’ house.

Peter looked surprised. ‘He told you why.’

Fran joined Libby and pushed the doors open. ‘No, there’s something behind that.’ She squinted at Harry’s disappearing back. ‘There’s something he wants to say to them he doesn’t want us to hear.’

Peter, Guy, Ben and Libby looked incredulous.

‘Fran, my love, that’s ridiculous,’ said Peter. ‘Harry’s nothing if not open.’

Fran smiled at him. ‘He hasn’t been very open about any of this, has he?’

Peter looked confused. ‘Well –’

‘It’s true, Pete,’ said Libby.

‘What hasn’t he told you about?’ asked Guy.

‘That he’d been here in the past – in secret,’ said Ben.

‘That he knew Matthew better than we thought,’ said Libby.

‘No,’ said Peter slowly. ‘I always knew about Matthew. And I did say, remember, what happened before we met didn’t matter.’

‘But you got a bit miffed at one point yesterday,’ said Libby.

‘It’s just not like him.’ Peter went out on to the deck and leant over the railing to look at the beach.

‘No, we’ve already said that.’ Libby went up and patted his arm. ‘But I expect he’ll tell you all about it eventually.’

‘I just hope it’s nothing connected to this business of Celia’s death.’ Peter turned round to face the house. ‘It all seems too much of a coincidence.’

Fran came out to join them. ‘I’m sorry, Peter, but I do think there’s a connection. I don’t mean that Harry is in any trouble, but I think whatever he’s not talking about has a bearing on this whole thing.’

‘If it has, why won’t he say?’ Ben appeared beside Libby. ‘Surely nothing’s so bad he can’t share it with us? I mean, I’m practically family.’

‘You frequently don’t share stuff with your family,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t mean just you, I mean everybody. I wouldn’t tell Dom, Bel, and Ad stuff I’d tell you lot.’

‘Then is he protecting someone?’ Peter frowned.

‘That could be it,’ said Fran, ‘and he’s gone to tell the sisters –’

‘Because it’s them he’s protecting!’ said Libby triumphantly.

‘Well, it could be,’ said Fran cautiously, ‘but we’re clutching at straws.’

‘It’s something from the past,’ said Guy suddenly. ‘Something Harry doesn’t really want to remember.’

They all looked at him in astonishment. He gave a crooked little grin above the neat goatee.

‘Fran must be rubbing off on me.’ He put an arm round his wife’s shoulders.

‘And something,’ she continued, ‘he wants to warn the sisters not to speak about.’

Libby looked across at Peter uneasily. ‘But what? Something Harry knows but doesn’t want us to know? Then it can’t have a bearing on Celia’s death or the sisters would want us to know about it.’

‘Not if Celia or Matthew, or both together, had done something Harry knew about but mustn’t get out,’ said Fran.

‘Then we’d be shut down quicker than a drugs ring,’ said Peter. ‘Much as I hate to think it might be true, I think you could be right, Fran. The question is, what do we do about it?’