Murder at the Laurels (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-four

‘
W
HAT?
'

‘According to you, she concealed the will, and on the day of the murder found Paul Denver and Nurse Warner in Mrs Bridges' room before Mrs Denver arrived.'

‘That's right. She told me so this morning.'

‘Well, I can't prove that she told you or she didn't, but
I'm
telling you – she denied it all.'

Fran sat, stunned. ‘Why?' she said eventually.

‘Don't ask me,' said Murray irritably, ‘I'm only the bloody investigating officer. And I ask myself why you would tell me this information if it wasn't true. It doesn't seem like you.'

‘It isn't,' said Fran. ‘You know that. I might give you some strange information sometimes, but I always believe it's true.'

‘Exactly,' sighed Murray, ‘so now I'm forced to try and prove what Miss perishing Joan Redding tells me.'

‘Did she say she found Nurse Warner in the room, and that Marion Headlam asked her to go and get the birthday cake?'

‘Birthday cake? What birthday cake?'

‘All the residents have one, apparently.'

Murray exploded. ‘So why didn't I know? Why has no one thought to tell me any of these nice little tit-bits? Don't they know concealing evidence is a crime?'

‘I don't suppose they thought of it like that,' said Fran, consolingly.

‘Well, go on then,' said Murray, breathing heavily, ‘now
you
tell me something I don't know.'

‘Nurse Redding belongs to some kind of Satanist cult. I believe she's going to a meeting tonight.'

‘Don't tell me,' groaned Murray, ‘and all the others are going with her.'

‘I don't think so,' said Fran, amused. ‘I just thought you ought to know. It's illegal, isn't it?'

‘Depends what they're doing. Can be a breach of the peace.'

‘Well, I think it's at Tyne Chapel. You had some problems there before, didn't you?'

‘Tyne Chapel? What do you know about that?' Murray's voice had changed.

‘Only local gossip. Someone said whatever trouble there was had been stopped, but perhaps it hasn't.'

‘And how do you know there's a meeting tonight?'

‘Well – I don't, for certain.'

‘Ah. One of those.' Murray sighed. ‘I think we might just check it out, though. Nasty goings on up there, there were. And don't you go poking your nose in.'

‘No, Inspector,' said Fran, demurely.

‘
Chief
Inspector,
Mrs
Castle,' he said and rang off.

Now what, thought Fran. What a muddle. She wandered into the kitchen to fill the kettle. Presumably, Murray would ask Paul and Warner to confirm or deny what she, Fran, had told them. And what would they say? Paul would deny it, of course. But Warner?

She dialled the number of Guy's shop. Sophie answered.

‘He's with a customer, Fran,' she said.

‘It's all right, Sophie, it was you I wanted. Did you find out for Libby where your friend Sue Warner lived?'

‘Not really, I think she's moved out to be with her boyfriend. I did see them together the other day, did Dad tell you?'

‘Yes, he did,' said Fran, remembering. ‘Where was it? Did you speak?'

‘No, she was too far away, but I'm certain it was her. And I'm not so certain, but the chap she was with – well, it looked like that Paul Denver.'

Fran's eyebrows rose. Result! she thought, and, after thanking Sophie, ran down the back stairs to see if Harry was still on the premises. He looked up in surprise and stopped chopping onions.

‘What's the problem, ducks?' He came forward, wiping his hands on his apron.

‘Have you got a telephone directory here, Harry?'

‘Yeah, over there in the drawer of the desk. Both sorts, I think. Why?'

‘I need to look up Paul Denver's number,' said Fran, going towards the desk.

‘Paul Denver. Hang on, he's the estate agent, isn't he?'

Fran nodded, leafing through the business section of the directory. ‘Here he is.' She punched the number into her phone, saved it, and called. A mechanical voice asked her to leave a message.

‘Paul, I need to know what you were doing with Nurse Warner before Aunt Eleanor died. You were there before you said you arrived. Please ring me on this number.'

Harry leant his elbows on the desk and grinned. ‘Even more intriguing, this, isn't it?' he said. ‘Are you going to take it up professionally?'

‘Take what up?' Fran was looking through the private section now.

‘Detecting,' said Harry. ‘Between the two of you, your instinct and Lib's nosiness would make a great team, I reckon.'

‘Don't be daft, Harry.' Fran closed the book. ‘Damn. No private number listed.'

‘You don't know that. You don't know what address you were looking for.'

‘There's only one Denver in the book. And that's Barbara.'

‘Oh.' Harry straightened up. ‘Well, perhaps he still lives there.'

‘Oh, come on. He must be thirty. Still living with his mother?'

‘She's got a big house. He's got a business, he's broke. Why not?'

Fran stared at him. ‘Could be. But Sophie said –'

‘Who's Sophie?'

‘Guy's daughter.'

‘What's she got to do with the price of fish?'

‘Oh, Harry,' said Fran, exasperated, ‘it doesn't matter. I just thought he might live somewhere with a girlfriend, that's all.'

‘OK, keep your hair on. Want a coffee?'

‘No, thanks. I've got a couple more calls to make. Thanks for the directory.'

‘Any time. Be good.' Harry ushered her out of the kitchen and watched her go up the stairs.

Libby was still out, so Fran left a message on the answerphone and tried the mobile. From the background noise when she answered, it was clear that she was still in the pub.

‘I just thought I'd let you know about a couple of developments. Sorry to interrupt your lunch.'

‘Not exactly lunch, Fran! It's nearly half past three. Peter came in, and he and Ben are deep in family conversations. What's happened?'

Fran explained.

‘Shall I come up?' asked Libby. ‘They won't miss me, and Ben can always phone me if he wants me.'

‘OK, if you like. It's all so puzzling, I felt I had to talk to someone.'

‘And who better than your partner in crime,' said Libby triumphantly. ‘See you in a minute.'

The distance between the pub and The Pink Geranium being only a matter of metres, she was, in fact, slightly less than a minute.

‘So what do you think will happen now?' she asked, when Fran had finished telling her.

‘Murray will try and question Warner and Paul, I suppose, and probably go back to Nurse Redding. Did you know her name was Joan?'

‘No. Doesn't suit her. Mind you, it might give us a handle on what went on at the hospital.'

‘How do you mean?' asked Fran.

‘Now we know her name is Joan Redding we could ask a couple of people at the hospital.'

‘Like who? Do you know anybody?'

Libby wrinkled her brow. ‘Not off-hand. Pity David isn't alive.'

They both sat in silence for a moment, remembering Ben's brother-in-law David, the village doctor who had died tragically back in the spring.

‘I know,' said Libby suddenly. ‘My friend Tricia.'

‘Sounds like a pony book,' said Fran. ‘Who's your friend Tricia?'

‘She's a medical secretary at the hospital. She's worked for several departments over the years. I bet she knows.'

‘How do you know her?'

‘Oh, she works back stage at my old drama society. Hang on, I'll find her number.' Libby began scrolling through the address book on her phone.

‘That's efficient of you,' said Fran, ‘considering you're always leaving your phone behind or switched off.'

‘Pots and kettles,' said Libby. ‘Ah, here we are.'

Fran went and made a pot of tea while Libby talked to the surprised Tricia, having to catch up on a lot of gossip before she reached the point of her phone call. Finally, she switched off and picked up the mug Fran offered.

‘Apparently, Joan Redding had a relationship with a doctor a few years ago, although Tricia says general opinion was that she must have forced him into it, and when he broke it off she started up a sort “Fatal Attraction” stalking operation. Very nasty, it got. She was asked to leave.'

‘There you are, then. That's why she was worried about her job. Marion Headlam must have known about it when she took her on, but it would be difficult for her to get a job anywhere else.'

‘I wonder why Headlam took her on?' mused Libby. ‘She's hardly the comforting type. More like a prison warder.'

‘Perhaps that's what she needs. To stop the old dears getting out.'

‘Tricia didn't know anything about Satanism, though. Still I suppose that's not the sort of thing you boast about, is it? More a dodgy handshake sort of thing.'

‘I told Murray about Tyne Chapel. He's going to look into it,' said Fran.

‘Oh. You didn't tell him I'd been up there, did you?' Libby looked nervous.

‘No, I didn't. Why?'

‘He'd have my guts for garters. He doesn't like me at all.'

‘I think he just gets annoyed with us both for interfering. The police always do in books, don't they?'

‘He's willing to listen to your moments,' said Libby.

‘Only because I've surprised him by being right once or twice.'

‘Why don't we try and find Nurse Warner?' said Libby, after a minute.

‘I don't see how we can,' said Fran. ‘Marion Headlam won't give us her address, and you said there were too many Warners in the book to trawl through.'

‘You found Redding this morning, didn't you?'

‘Yes, but that was sheer luck. It's hardly going to happen again, is it?'

‘Suppose not. Oh, well, we'll just have to wait for the police, won't we?'

But it wasn't the police who next rang Fran's mobile.

‘Paul?' she said, her eyebrows shooting up. Libby almost choked on her tea.

‘What do you want now?' he asked, obviously abandoning the polite family member act.

‘If you got my message, as you must have done, you'll know.'

‘And what's it to you?'

‘I'm just warning you, that's all,' said Fran, ostentatiously crossing her fingers, ‘the police know about this, or think they do, and they'll be coming after you.'

‘Oh, yeah? And who told them?' Fran could hear the sneer in Paul's voice.

‘Well, I did, but Nurse Redding told me.'

He laughed. ‘Oh, and they'll believe you, will they? Well, what if I told you I happen to know she won't corroborate any such story, and anyway, there is a witness who's already sworn he saw me arriving when I said I did.'

‘Who's that?'

‘I don't see why I should tell you, but on the other hand, perhaps it'll keep you off my back. It was the gardener. Not to mention Sue Warner, of course. She saw me, too.'

‘Do the police know that?' asked Fran.

‘Of course. They found out when they questioned the gardener. I didn't point them in his direction. Now, please, I've got work to do. And I'd appreciate it if you kept out of our business. This has nothing to do with you, as I believe my mother has already told you.'

‘So that's that,' she said to Libby, switching her phone off. ‘Exit Paul as a suspect. I wonder if Redding was lying to me?'

‘Couldn't you tell?' asked Libby.

‘No, of course I couldn't. All that I got from her this morning was the business about Tyne Chapel. It's quite possible that she was trying to shock me. Particularly when she said that about sleeping with Paul. I just can't imagine it, can you?'

‘No. Urgh,' said Libby, shuddering. ‘I've only ever seen Paul once, but the two of them together – it's creepy. Do you think she locked him in the linen cupboard?'

‘I think it's quite serious, Libby,' said Fran. ‘You didn't see her this morning. She was – oh, I don't know. She terrified me.'

‘Do you think she might kill again, then?' Libby looked scared.

‘Again? You've decided she's the murderer, then?'

‘Well, who else? On her own admission she went into Aunt Eleanor's room before letting Barbara in, whether she saw Paul and Nurse Warner or not. And she nicked the will, for some confused reason of her own.'

‘I don't see it,' said Fran. ‘Marion Headlam was coming down that corridor, remember, to ask about the birthday cake.
She
could easily have slipped in and done it before Barbara got there.'

‘She does have a motive,' said Libby. ‘Redding doesn't really, neither does Warner.'

‘I'm afraid my money's still on Barbara, though,' sighed Fran. ‘The more I think about it, the more obvious it seems.'

‘It's the will that's confused everything isn't it?' said Libby. ‘Being stolen, or mislaid, or whatever.'

‘I suppose so. If it had still been there, and Barbara or Paul had seen it, they wouldn't have tried to kill Eleanor, they'd have tried to make her change the codicil. They certainly wouldn't want her to die with that in place.' Fran frowned. ‘So why did Redding take it?'

‘Revenge on Paul?' Libby was looking confused. ‘Oh, no, she would have to have taken it before she found Warner with Paul. Oh!' A light broke across her face. ‘That's it!'

‘What's it?'

‘What happened! After she caught the two of them together, she took the will, killed Eleanor, all the time meaning to put the will back so that Paul wouldn't then inherit anything.'

Fran shook her head. ‘Why take the will? She could just have killed Eleanor and let the will be found.'