Murder at the Laurels (18 page)

‘Oh, thanks. Just what I need to cheer me up.'

‘Oh, never mind. You can stay upstairs for as long as you want, you know that.'

‘Not rent free, I can't,' said Fran. ‘And now, please may I have my bill?'

Harry reluctantly allowed her to pay, and sent her up the back stairs, saying you never knew what might be lurking in the high street.

Taking her mobile out of her bag to ring Charles again, Fran was surprised to see she had received a message. She certainly hadn't heard the discreet beep, but then, Harry's diners tended to be a noisy lot.

‘Sol left messg,' she read, ‘call tomorrow. C.'

Fran forwarded this to Libby's mobile, guessing a phone call wouldn't be appreciated if Ben was with her, and was further surprised when Libby rang her straight back.

‘Ben's just told me,' she said, ‘he's been using your builder for years. But now he's retired, so no wonder he wasn't answering the office phone!'

‘Does he know where to find him?' asked Fran.

‘Not off-hand, but he says he'll find out at the office,' said Libby. ‘So that's two exciting things to follow up tomorrow, isn't it?'

Chapter Twenty-four

L
IBBY WAS ALREADY UP
when Fran phoned early the following morning. Ben had left even earlier to go and change into suitable going-to-the-office clothes, so she was sitting with a cup of tea and Sidney, wrapped in her old dressing gown and yet another post-coital glow.

‘You sound a bit x-rated this morning,' commented Fran.

‘I feel it,' said Libby. ‘Disgustingly.'

‘Well, if you can come down to earth for a bit, I'm going to leave the builder to you, at least for today.'

‘Oh? Why?'

‘Peter called this morning and offered to take me up to town with him.'

‘Oh, did he, now?' Libby laughed. ‘I sense Harry's fine Italian hand in this.'

‘Quite right,' said Fran, and explained. ‘So the upshot was, he told Peter all about me being such a wimp, and Peter decided to take me in hand. All I've got to do is be downstairs in five minutes, and I will duly be delivered home at 7 this evening.'

‘So you'll unearth Mum's pictures?'

‘That's the idea. And maybe see Charles, as well.'

‘Do you think he might be at work?'

‘No idea. He told me he had a failed career, but I don't even know what he did. Or does.'

‘Time to find out, although as you're not interested in him, it doesn't matter, does it?' Libby yawned. ‘When Ben phones through the builder info, I'll call you and see what you want me to do, if anything. Meanwhile, I'm going to see if I can get hold of Redding again.'

Libby finished her tea, thought about breakfast and decided it could wait. After as quick a shower as the water system could manage, she dressed, went downstairs and phoned Nurse Redding's number again. Then remembered that this week she was on earlies. So that left the builder. But it was still too early to expect Ben to have found out where he was, so now, what to do. She went into the conservatory and looked at the painting on the easel, wrinkled her nose, and went out again.

There was always shopping. August had turned grey and unappealing, so Libby tucked an umbrella into her basket and let herself out.

The village was quiet. In the butcher's, Libby met Hetty, Ben's mother, and in the post office his Uncle Lenny and Auntie Flo, who invited her back to Flo's little house for coffee.

‘So, what you up to now, gel?' asked Flo, settling her in a chair by the fireplace. Lenny pottered off to the kitchen to make coffee, and Flo sat down on the other side of the hearth and lit a cigarette.

‘Oh, this and that,' said Libby. ‘My friend Fran's down here, staying in the flat over The Pink Geranium.'

‘I know all that. And her old auntie died, didn't she? Murdered, Hetty said.'

‘Oh.' Libby was surprised. ‘I didn't realise Ben had told her.'

‘Course he did. Can't keep anything secret here, you ought to know that.'

‘I don't know about that,' said Libby dubiously, remembering the secrets that had been kept in Hetty's family.

Lenny reappeared with a tray. ‘Don't you go gettin' involved, young Libby,' he said, ‘police'll look after it.'

‘I know, I know. But it's difficult not to when a friend's involved.'

‘So what's the story, then?' asked Flo. ‘Who do they reckon did it?'

Libby gave them an edited version of all she knew, dwelling on the lighter aspects, including Harry's conviction that Nurse Redding was a witch.

‘That's not so silly, gel,' said Flo, at this point. ‘Lot o' women around her age go to these devil worship things. You read about it in the papers.'

‘Oh, I know, and all the cults that suck people in and make them do awful things.' Libby nodded and took a sip of milky coffee. ‘But how do you know what age she is?'

‘I guessed. Stands to reason. Middle-aged, is she?' said Flo, blowing on her own cup.

‘Bit younger than me, perhaps. I don't really know.'

‘There you are, then. I remember a few years ago they had a bit of trouble up at the old chapel. Holding their meetings up there, an' that.'

‘What old chapel?'

‘Over beyond Steeple Mount in the woods. Used to be a private chapel for the big house.'

‘What big house?' asked Lenny.

‘Oh, it's gone, now,' said Flo. ‘Army used it in the war and the family didn't come back. Then there was a fire and it was left to fall down. Folk said the family couldn't afford it.'

‘So sad when that happens, isn't it?' said Libby. ‘Who were the family, do you know?'

‘Can't say as I remember. Sir someone. Anyway, the chapel was still standing and these people were usin' it for their what-d'you-call-its –'

‘Black mass?' asked Libby.

‘Might be. They found blood and feathers and such up there.'

‘Golly! So what happened?'

‘Don't rightly know. There was a lot of talk about it, and it all died down. Some bloke was arrested, I think. Haven't heard nothin' since.'

‘What was it called, do you remember?'

‘Tyne Hall, far as I recall.'

‘I wonder if it's still going on?'

‘Now, young Libby, I told yer, don't you go pokin' yer nose in,' said Lenny. ‘All them funny people, devil worshippers an' that. Nasty stuff.'

‘I know,' sighed Libby. ‘Sorry.' She put down her cup. ‘So tell me. How are you two getting on?'

Lenny and Flo outdid each other telling her how happy they were. Libby reflected happily on her own part in bringing the two old people back together as she made her way back to Allhallow's Lane, and as the first spots of rain fell, opened the door to hear the phone ringing.

‘Found him!' said Ben's voice triumphantly.

‘The builder?' Libby sat down on Sidney's step.

‘Yep. I called him, I hope you didn't mind, and after he'd moaned at me saying he didn't do any work any more, then moaned some more saying he didn't know what to do with himself these days, he said you could call him, or better still, go and see him.'

‘Golly,' said Libby, for the second time in an hour. ‘Did you tell him why?'

‘Not really. I said it was about some property he might know about.'

‘Right. Where is he? Could I go today?'

‘How about I come with you? I'm finished here. I could come home and pick you up.'

Libby thought about talking to yet another old person today and decided that having Ben with her would be an asset.

‘I'll be with you in about half an hour, then,' he said.

Awash with milky coffee and biscuits, Libby didn't bother with lunch, and was waiting by the door when Ben drew up outside.

‘So where does he live and what's his name?' Libby asked, as they turned into the high street.

‘Jim Butler. Lives just outside Nethergate in a bungalow he built himself. His wife died a few years ago, and I think he's a bit lonely.'

‘And bored, by the sound of it,' said Libby.

Their route took them past Steeple Mount and Libby found herself wondering where the Tyne chapel was. She nearly asked Ben, but thought he might react the same way as Lenny and Flo. The road wound through fields towards the sea, until Ben turned off into a well-kept, newly tarmac'd road lined with neat new bungalows on either side. At the end, a much larger and grander bungalow looked out over a terraced garden to the sea.

‘Here we are.' Ben got out and came round to help Libby out. Before they could go any further, the front door opened, revealing a large, bald man in old corduroys and shirtsleeves, accompanied by an elderly black dog, whose tail waved in welcome.

‘Here you are, then, mate. How are yer?' he held out his hand.

‘Hello, Jim.' Ben shook the hand. ‘This is my friend Libby Sarjeant, who I told you about.'

Jim Butler turned to Libby. ‘How are yer, then, ma'am?' he said.

‘Oh, please call me Libby, Jim,' said Libby. ‘And who's this?' She bent to hold out a hand for the dog to sniff.

‘That's Lady. Silly bloody name, pardon me, ma – Libby – but the wife liked it. Gettin' old now, like me.'

Old wasn't the word she'd apply to Jim Butler, thought Libby, as they followed him through an over-furnished hall into a modern conservatory with a wonderful view. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than Libby herself, so his wife must have died very young, poor soul.

‘Great view, Jim,' said Ben.

‘Built it for the wife,' said Jim gloomily, ‘then she up and died just after it got finished. Spend most of me time here, nowadays. Lady can get straight out to the garden, see.'

When they were seated and had refused tea or coffee, he said; ‘So what did you want to ask me about, then?'

Libby looked at Ben, who gave her a slight nod.

‘Well,' she said, ‘a friend of mine thinks a cottage in Nethergate might have once belonged to her family, and she wanted to find out.'

‘Where do I come into it?' asked Jim.

‘Apparently the owners bought it from you, so she wondered who you bought it from.'

‘Which one is it, then? I had quite a few properties in Nethergate. Used to let 'em out for holidays.'

‘It's on Harbour Street. I don't think Fran told me what it was called.'

‘Had a couple on Harbour Street,' said Jim unhelpfully. ‘Which one?'

‘It's got very thick walls and nearer The Sloop than the other end,' said Ben.

‘Oh, ah. That'd be Coastguard Cottage. Leastways, that's what they call it now. Sold it a coupla years back to a London couple. They use it in summer. Let it the rest of the time.'

‘Oh, have you kept in touch?' asked Libby.

‘Nah. I got a coupla cottages left and the agency lets 'em out for me. They do the same for Coastguard Cottage.'

‘Right.' Libby waited to see if any more was forthcoming, and as it wasn't, asked again. ‘So, do you remember who you bought it from?'

‘Course I do,' said Jim, looking affronted. ‘Not the name, mind, but it was someone to do with them Stones.'

‘Stones?' Libby felt her scalp tingle. ‘Barbara Stone?'

‘Barbara? Don't remember no Barbara. Old Joe Stone. His family. They used to own it, then someone took it over from them.'

‘Bought it, you mean?' said Ben.

‘Yeah, course. But in the family, like.' Lady suddenly surged to her feet and went to the sliding doors. ‘Hang on a minute – got to let 'er out.' Jim got up and opened the doors. ‘I'll leave 'em open if yer don't mind. Then she can come in when she wants.' He looked after her fondly. ‘Gawd, I'll miss 'er when she goes.'

Libby swallowed and blinked. Ben reached out and squeezed her arm.

‘Anyway,' said Jim, coming to sit down again, ‘that's about all I know. Bought it from the Stones, or near enough. Sure yer don't want no tea?'

‘Well, if you're going to have a cup,' said Ben, and Libby's insides quailed.

‘Oh, I 'ave the kettle on all day, me,' said Jim, getting up. ‘You wait here. Won't be two shakes.'

‘What now?' said Ben, after he'd gone. ‘Are we any further forward?'

‘Well, yes,' said Libby, ‘and certainly if it's the same family. Was Auntie Eleanor a Stone, do you suppose? Barbara is her blood relative, I think, so it looks like it, doesn't it? Do you think Uncle Frank rented the cottage from Eleanor's father, or something, and that's how he met her?'

‘Could be. I still can't understand how Fran didn't remember staying there, though. Given her peculiar talents.' Ben leaned across and planted a quick kiss on Libby's lips. ‘Sorry, couldn't resist it.'

Libby found herself blushing as she noticed Jim standing in the doorway with a broad smile on his face.

‘Don't mind me,' he said, coming forward with a tray that looked suspiciously like the twin of the one in Flo's house.

After Ben had accepted a cup of what Libby referred to as “builder's” and she had managed to refuse without giving offence, Lady strolled back in and fell on Libby's feet.

‘She likes you,' said Jim. ‘Don't take to many people.'

Libby smiled and patted Lady's head, wondering what Sidney was going to say about this when he got a whiff of her legs.

‘So you bought it from the Stone family,' prompted Ben.

‘Not exactly from them, from a connection, like. Married into the family, 'e 'ad.'

‘Uncle Frank,' said Libby and Ben together.

‘Frank?' said Jim.

‘Frank Bridges. Could it have been him?' said Libby.

‘Oh, ah. Rings a bell.' Jim wrinkled his brow. ‘Come to think of it, 'e married one of old Joe's girls.'

‘Eleanor?' suggested Libby, almost holding her breath.

‘Could 'a been,' said Jim slowly, ‘I don't rightly remember their names.'

‘Were there several daughters?' asked Libby.

‘Two girls and a boy,' said Jim.

‘Could Barbara have been the son's daughter?' asked Ben.

‘Could 'a been. Didn't really know the family.'

This appeared to be the end of Jim's knowledge of the Stones and Coastguard Cottage, and although Libby was keen to leave and let Fran know of these exciting developments, Ben embarked on a discussion of old friends in the business and, according to Jim, the falling standards of local builders.

‘I had to,' he said, as they left Jim and Lady on the front steps. ‘He would have been hurt if we'd left as soon as we got the information out of him.'

‘Yes, of course,' said Libby. ‘Nice old boy.'

‘Hey, not so old. Not much older than us.'

Libby grinned. ‘Well, you're a nice old boy, too.'

Peter drove Fran to the station, got them both on the train and settled back in his seat.

‘See?' he said, beaming at her. ‘Easy.'

She nodded. ‘I know,' she said, ‘but you do it every day. It's an event for me.'