Murder in Steeple Martin (24 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

A
S SHE APPROACHED THE
Pink Geranium she saw James coming the other way. He looked drawn and somehow older. She pinned on a determined smile and waved.

‘Hi,’ he said coming to a halt outside the door.

‘How are you?’ asked Libby, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

He tried to smile. ‘Oh, OK, you know. Supposed to be meeting Pete. He’s been to see Mum.’

‘I know, I was going to go with him, but he was too early for me. Is he coming here? Shall we go in and beg a coffee from Harry?’

James nodded and knocked on the window. Harry appeared, resplendent in his favourite leather trousers and pink shirt, covered with a long cook’s apron.

‘Come in, dear hearts,’ he said. ‘Pete phoned and said he’ll be along in a minute. He didn’t say you were coming, though, Lib.’

‘He knows.’ Libby sat down at her favourite table in the window.

‘Council of war, is it?’ Harry swept aside a newspaper and straightened the cruet.

James just shook his head and collapsed into the chair opposite Libby’s. Harry frowned, sighed, and whisked off towards the kitchen. ‘Coffee,’ he called over his shoulder.

James obviously didn’t want to, or couldn’t, talk, and Libby didn’t know what to say. The silence remained until Harry returned with a cafetière and mugs.

‘Have you eaten this morning, James?’ he asked.

James looked vaguely surprised and shook his head again.

‘When did you last eat?’

‘Yesterday sometime. Before the police came round.’ James frowned. ‘I think.’

‘When did they come round?’ asked Libby, a cold feeling settling round the knot of fear still resident in her stomach.

‘I don’t know. Morning, I think. I called Pete.’

‘Then I’m going to get you something now,’ said Harry, ‘even if you don’t think you’re hungry. You must eat.’

‘What did the police want?’ said Libby, when Harry had gone back to the kitchen.

‘Oh, all sorts of things. All about Paula, and how long we’d been together … and Mum, and where she was.’ James shut his eyes. ‘I can’t remember.’

Libby pushed down the plunger on the cafetière. ‘They’ve got to ask questions, James. We want to find out who did it, don’t we?’

‘Do we?’ James gave a small, mirthless laugh. ‘I don’t think I care. She …’ he stopped, looking horrified.

‘Caused enough trouble alive? Is that what you were going to say?’ Libby poured coffee and pushed one mug towards him.

James flushed. ‘No, of course not.’ He looked up gratefully as the door opened. ‘Here’s Pete.’

Peter came in and squeezed his brother’s shoulder before sitting down next to him.

‘Is that coffee? Thank God for that. Susan hasn’t a clue how to make it.’ He poured himself a mug and took a scalding mouthful. ‘Ow!’

‘Serves you right,’ said Libby following his lead in trying to lighten the atmosphere. Not, she thought, that it was likely to remain light.

‘How is she?’ asked James.

‘Mum? She seems fine, muddled, and can’t understand why she’s staying with Susan and David, but otherwise quite bright.’ Peter sat back in his chair. ‘She’s got no memory of what happened the other night, Lib.’

‘That’s just as well, surely,’ said Libby. ‘She won’t mention it to the police.’

‘Why do they want to talk to her, Pete?’ James hadn’t touched his coffee.

‘Haven’t a clue. They can’t know she had anything to do with the accidents at the theatre.’

‘Unless they heard a mention of them when Cole and the other one came to see the play on Tuesday,’ said Libby.

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Peter, looking up, ‘but even then, they wouldn’t know it had anything to do with Mum. Even the cast don’t know, and they certainly didn’t on Tuesday.’

‘So why, then?’ James’s voice cracked. ‘They can’t think she …’

‘Of course they don’t,’ Libby said in a rallying tone. ‘But we really ought to try and think who might have done, so we can point the police in the right direction.’

‘Oh, and they’d take notice, would they?’ Peter raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you didn’t want to be Miss Marple?’

‘I don’t. But we know everyone round here better than they do.’

‘I bet that’s what all the amateur detectives say.’ Peter leaned over and patted Libby’s arm. ‘This isn’t a book, Lib. This is real. It’s no use speculating, because we don’t know anything about what they’ve found out.’

‘Do they know whether she was pregnant?’ asked James.

Peter and Libby exchanged looks.

‘Don’t you think she was, then?’ said Libby, with a quick frown as Peter opened his mouth.

‘I don’t know,’ said James miserably. ‘She said she was, and she said it was mine, but I don’t know.’

‘Why would she have lied?’ asked Peter.

‘I don’t know!’ James burst out. ‘Why would she want to marry me? She didn’t love me. Why didn’t she go after the other bloke?’

Another silence fell, and Libby made a face at Peter. Harry appeared at the kitchen door and waited.

‘What other bloke?’ said Peter.

‘I don’t know. I was sure she was seeing someone else when we broke up and I got the impression he was married. If she was pregnant, I bet it was his and she was trying to get me to take it on.’ James put his head in his hands.

Peter nodded at Libby. ‘Sounds like it,’ he said.

‘Why did you go along with it?’ said Libby.

James sat back and started playing with his mug. ‘Oh, you know. She was – well, she was convincing. I know everybody thought I was a fool, but we were brought up as gentlemen, weren’t we, Pete?’ He smiled wryly at his brother.

‘And look what a gentleman he turned out to be,’ said Harry, coming forward and topping up their mugs. ‘I’m doing you an omelette, young James. And make sure you eat it.’

‘Young James.’ Peter patted Harry fondly on the bottom. ‘He’s older than you are.’

‘But so much less mature,’ said Harry, and twitched away to the kitchen.

‘So did the police ask you about any of this?’ said Libby.

‘Not in so many words. They didn’t tell me anything.’

‘Well, perhaps you’ll see them this morning at Susan’s,’ said Peter. ‘I said we’d go back when the doctor comes.’

‘Oh, he’s coming this morning, is he?’ said James. ‘We’d better go, then.’

‘You just stay and eat your omelette or my life won’t be worth living,’ said Peter, ‘then we’ll go.’

Libby finished her coffee. ‘I’ll only be in the way,’ she said, ‘so I’ll go back and see how Fran is. She really enjoyed the play, by the way, Pete.’

‘When’s she going home?’

‘Today, sometime. Why are you so worried about her?’ Libby was exasperated.

‘She’s just butted in, that’s all.’

‘By invitation. Your cousin asked her, don’t forget.’

‘Oh, I won’t forget that.’ Peter looked up at her maliciously. ‘And neither can you, can you, sweetie?’

Libby pressed her lips together and picked up her basket.

‘While we’re on the subject of Fran,’ she said, ‘she did wonder why we were all so sure your mother caused the accidents. She doesn’t think she did.’

Giving James a supportive pat on the arm she opened the door.

‘Keep in touch,’ she said to the air, and left.

‘Morning,’ called a voice from across the road, as she turned towards home.

‘David!’ She stopped and waited for him to cross the road to her side. ‘How are things this morning?’

‘You mean with Millie?’ He ran a hand through his thick hair. ‘Not so good.’

‘Peter thought she seemed quite bright.’

‘Peter? Has he seen her today?’

‘Yes, he went up to warn her – and Susan, of course – about the police bringing their doctor to see her.’

David stared. ‘What? I didn’t know about this.’

‘DS Cole came to talk to Peter last night after you said they couldn’t interview Millie. They told him then.’

David looked furious. ‘Why didn’t he tell me? This is outrageous. They have no right to do this.’

‘Well, I think Peter has, as her son,’ said Libby doubtfully.

‘She’s a sick woman,’ said David, ‘and who knows what she might say to them?’

Libby regarded him thoughtfully, wondering how much he knew of Hetty’s story. ‘I expect that’s why they want a doctor to see her,’ she said.

‘
I’m
a doctor, for goodness’ sake!’ David looked ready to erupt. ‘Where’s Peter?’

‘In The Pink Geranium with James,’ said Libby. ‘Really, David, I don’t think you need worry. Millie
is
their mother. They’ll look after her.’

David made a sound that sounded suspiciously like “hurrumph”, and barged past her into the restaurant. Libby hesitated, torn between going back to see what was going on and a craven desire to keep out of it. Self-preservation got the better of her and she left, making a short detour into the farm shop to buy something for lunch.

‘So did you ask about where the body was found?’ said Fran, when Libby had finished telling her all about the morning’s events.

‘Well, no, there was no point. Peter hadn’t seen the police, and anyway, why would they tell him?’

‘I just think it’s important.’ Fran kept her eyes down and picked at a lettuce leaf.

Libby sighed. ‘I’ll give Pete a ring after lunch and see if he prised anything out of the inspector, or whoever came with the doctor.’

But Peter sounded even more cheerful when Libby rang him while enjoying a post-lunch cigarette.

‘They didn’t come,’ he said. ‘Apparently, Inspector Murray didn’t consider it that important, it was only that bloody idiot Cole making mountains out of mudpies.’

‘So we were worrying for nothing?’

‘Looks like it. Anyway, Mum’s off the hook. Funny thing was, David came bursting into the caff just after you went, breathing fire and brimstone about the police questioning her.’

‘I know,’ said Libby, ‘I’d just spoken to him. What was his problem?’

‘He thinks Mum’s worse than she is. I’ve told him I’ll take responsibility for her, whatever happens, but he’s still muttering curses. I never knew he had it in him.’

‘Perhaps she was his one true love,’ giggled Libby, ‘like we said last night.’

‘God help them, then,’ snorted Peter. ‘What a pair.’

Libby relayed this conversation to Fran, who still looked worried.

‘And did you find out?’ she said.

‘Find out? What?’

‘Where she was killed.’

‘Oh, God, you’re not still on about that!’ Libby stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. ‘No, I didn’t ask. The police didn’t come to see Millie, so Peter hasn’t seen them, either. For goodness’ sake, what does it matter?’

Fran looked stubborn. ‘It’s important,’ she said. ‘And did you ask them about the accidents?’

‘No, I didn’t. I told them what you thought and left them to it. Pete didn’t mention it just now. I’ll ask him later. As there’s no reason now for her to be questioned, perhaps he doesn’t think it matters.’

‘But it does, can’t you see? If it wasn’t Millie, who was it?’

Suppressing the urge to ask when she was going home, Libby took the lunch crockery out to the kitchen.

‘Sorry, Libby.’ Fran came up behind her. ‘I’ve been a right pain, haven’t I? I’ll go and put my things together and get out of your way. I ought to go now, anyway, or I’ll get stuck in the rush hour.’

Immediately feeling guilty, Libby turned and smiled. ‘You don’t have to go yet if you don’t want to, Fran. You can even stay tonight, but I’ll have to turn you out tomorrow …’

‘I know, the children are coming down.’ Fran smiled back. ‘No, it’s fine. I really enjoyed the play, and I hope they find the murderer so you can all get on with your lives.’

‘As long as it’s not someone we know,’ said Libby, ‘that’s what terrifies me.’

‘Do you really think Peter, Harry or James could be a murderer?’

‘No, of course I don’t.’

‘Or Ben?’ Fran smiled. ‘I’m sure it isn’t any of them.’

‘Well, that’s good, I suppose. But if it isn’t them we haven’t got any more suspects, have we?’

‘I expect the police have,’ said Fran. ‘And didn’t you tell me James thought she’d been having an affair with someone else apart from him?’

‘Yes, but who? How will the police find out?’

‘They’ll have gone through her house and her belongings with a fine toothcomb, you’ve seen that on TV. They’re bound to find some evidence somewhere. And they’ll ask all the other people she knew, not just you lot in the village. Where did she work, for a start?’

‘Good heavens!’ Libby sat on the edge of the table with a bump. ‘Do you know, I haven’t the faintest idea.’

‘Well, there you are then. Stop worrying.’

‘But you’re worried. You wanted to know about the accidents, and where she was killed. You must think it’s got something to do with us.’

Fran looked away. ‘Just a feeling. You know I’m not always right. And I know it isn’t Peter, Harry, James or Ben.’

And with that small comfort, she went upstairs to pack.

Chapter Twenty-nine

L
IBBY CHANGED THE BED
after Fran had gone, and fell over Sidney on the way down the stairs when the phone rang.

‘It’s me,’ said Ben.

‘Hi.’ Libby took a deep breath to calm her solar plexus.

‘Bad news, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, God, what? Millie?’

‘No, James.’ Ben’s voice sounded strained. ‘They’ve arrested him.’

Libby felt the blood drain from her head and she sat down suddenly on the stairs.

‘Arrested him? Why?’

‘Why do you think? Actually, I don’t think David said arrested, he’s just helping with their enquiries.’

‘What evidence did they have?’

‘How do I know?’ said Ben, testily.

‘Sorry.’ Libby found she was trying hard not to cry. ‘Where’s Pete? And Millie?’

‘Millie’s still with Susan and Pete’s gone to the police station. Harry’s being a little soldier and carrying on in the face of adversity.’

‘Don’t be so sarcastic,’ said Libby sharply. ‘I’ll go and see if there’s anything I can do. I can leave the kids to sort themselves out. They’ve got keys.’

‘I’m sorry, Lib,’ said Ben, more gently. ‘It’s been a bloody awful few days.’

‘It has for all of us, Ben,’ said Libby. ‘I’m very sorry for your family, but I got involved too, and Harry is, after all, Pete’s life partner. If he was Pete’s wife he’d deserve a bit more sympathy, wouldn’t he?’

She heard Ben sigh. ‘OK, OK. Sorry. Is Fran still there?’

‘No, she’s gone. You knew she was coming yesterday, if you wanted to see her, why didn’t you come round then? Or come to the theatre?’

‘I was busy. I did try and phone you to see how you were.’

‘I was here.’

There was a short silence.

‘Well, I’m sorry. I don’t seem to be able to do anything right.’ Libby heard him sigh again.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘James is the one we have to think about now, so stop thinking about yourself. I’m going to the caff.’

Feeling righteously indignant, she put down the phone and went to find paper to write a note for her children who were due to arrive some time that afternoon. She left messages on their mobiles, fed Sidney, flung her cape around her shoulders, picked up her basket and set off. She had no idea what she was going to do, but to sit at home while James was in such a terrible predicament seemed utterly callous.

The Pink Geranium was locked, and when Libby called his mobile, Harry told her he was at home.

‘Come on up,’ he said. ‘You can stop me drinking myself into a stupor.’

Sure enough, he opened the door clutching a brandy balloon at least half full.

‘Shall I make some tea?’ asked Libby, stepping over the threshold and throwing her cape onto a chair.

‘If you don’t want to join me,’ said Harry, waving his glass dangerously.

‘Bit early for me,’ said Libby, going in to the kitchen, ‘unless
I’d
been drinking since lunchtime.’

‘Well, I have. Since Pete came back to the caff, anyway.’

‘What happened?’ Libby moved the big kettle on to the hotplate and found two of Harry’s pretty china mugs.

‘Well, you know they decided not to question Pete’s mama?’

‘Yes, I phoned him just after lunch.’

‘So you did.’

‘What I don’t know is whether he and James actually went back up to see her, and how they found out about the police.’

‘Oh, yes, they went up there. And James phoned the police station and they said they weren’t coming.’

‘Did he ask why?’

‘Don’t ask me, chuck. I wasn’t there. Anyway, Pete comes back all chuffed and we had a drink. There weren’t any customers so we were on our own.’ Harry put down his glass and fetched milk. ‘Then David phoned.’

‘David? Where was he?’

‘He’d gone home to check on mad Millie and found James being hauled into custody.’

‘Christ.’ Libby stared at him. ‘It doesn’t seem possible, does it?’

Harry shook his head and swirled brandy moodily round the glass.

Libby poured water into the mugs and added milk. ‘Come on, sit down and tell me the rest.’

When Libby had curled up in her usual chair and Harry had flung himself along the sofa, he sighed and put down the brandy glass.

‘Tea, I suppose. I’d better keep a clear head.’

‘If you’ve been drinking since lunchtime that’s a non-starter,’ said Libby. ‘Tell me what happened next.’

‘David tried to get the police to tell them what was going on, but all they would say was James was helping them with their enquiries. So he phoned Pete and Ben.’

‘Yes, Ben phoned me.’

‘And then Pete went mad.’

Libby nodded in sympathy, realising that Harry was actually fighting tears.

‘And went to the police station? Did he speak to Millie first?’

‘Not much point in that. David said she didn’t know what was going on. Apparently, the police knew James was there because he’d phoned to ask where their doctor was. Now honestly, would you do that if you were guilty of anything?’

‘Well, you might,’ said Libby, ‘if you wanted to know what was going on and keep tabs on them.’

‘Of course he didn’t. Of all the innocents, that James is the worst. Do you remember that night in the pub after rehearsal? When he came in and Paula was all over him? And he couldn’t see it, could he?’

‘Well, he can see it now,’ said Libby. ‘He was saying this morning.’

‘Bit late, now.’ Harry swung his legs to the floor. ‘Silly little bugger.’

‘Why? You don’t think he did it, do you?’

Harry looked up and away quickly. ‘No. But I want to know what evidence they’ve got.’

‘In detective stories the amateur sleuth always knows the evidence. Why don’t we? We don’t even know where she was killed.’

‘Or when. Why won’t someone tell us?’

‘Because if someone lets out that they know a fact not released to the public it means they dunnit,’ said Libby, ‘so if you said, for instance “Oh, no, guv, that iron, or golf club, or blunt instrument doesn’t belong to me,” and the police had never said it
was
a blunt instrument or whatever, they’ve got you. See?’

Harry frowned. ‘Well, how does anyone ever solve anything, then?’

‘I don’t suppose they do. I think it’s all in books and television.’ Libby sighed. ‘I wish we could find out something, though. I’m sure we could help James.’

‘What do you think we ought to know, then?’ Harry put down his mug and folded his arms.

‘Where she was killed. Was it in the car, was the car moved, what was the weapon.’

‘David would know.’ Harry looked smug.

‘He might,’ said Libby doubtfully, ‘but would he tell us?’

‘We can but try.’ Harry reached behind him for the phone. ‘Here. He’s on memory 5.’

‘Me? Why can’t you ask him?’

‘He doesn’t approve of me. He’s actually quite homophobic, is our cousin David.’

Libby took the phone reluctantly and peered at the keypad. ‘OK. Which one do I press first?’

It rang for a long time before Susan answered.

‘Dr Dedham’s phone,’ she said.

‘Susan, hello, it’s Libby Sarjeant.’

‘Hello, Libby. How are you?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. How are you? Are you coping with ma – m – Millie?’

‘Oh, she’s no trouble. Luckily she doesn’t realise about James. You know about James?’

‘Yes, I do. Shocking, isn’t it? Actually, that’s why I’m ringing.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well, obviously, we don’t believe for a minute that James did it, so we wondered if there was any clue that perhaps the police hadn’t picked up on?’

‘Why would I know?’ asked Susan.

‘David might have seen something, or know whether she was killed in the car. Something like that.’

‘I couldn’t say, I’m sure,’ said Susan coldly. ‘Surely you should leave it to the police. They must have some reason for arresting James.’

‘They haven’t arrested him, have they?’ Libby was shocked. ‘I thought they’d just taken him in to help with their enquiries.’

‘It’s the same thing, isn’t it? That’s what they always say.’

‘I don’t think it’s quite the same. And there’s a difference between being arrested and being charged.’

Libby heard a deep voice in the background, and the sound of the mouthpiece being covered, before David spoke.

‘What do you want, Libby? Why are you asking questions? The police have got it all in hand.’

‘No, they haven’t, David.’ Libby was getting desperate. ‘Surely you don’t believe James killed Paula? It’s impossible.’

‘Someone killed her. I found her.’

‘I know, that’s why I was asking. Had she been moved? You could have told whether she had, couldn’t you?’

‘No, of course I couldn’t. She had half her head caved in and she was in the driving seat. That’s all I saw.’

Libby thought about this. ‘Had she been moved?’

‘Christ, Libby! I don’t know! Forget it.’ David almost shouted.

‘All right, all right. Sorry. I’ll go. I’m just concerned.’ Libby made a face at Harry. ‘Give my love to Millie.’ She waited. ‘David? David? Are you there?’

‘Rung off, petal. I could hear him from here.’ Harry lit a cigarette and threw one at Libby. ‘Well, that wasn’t much use, was it?’

‘At least we know now she was hit on the head and she was in the driving seat, so she must have driven the car to her house.’

Harry thought about this. ‘So where was James? I thought he’d moved in with her?’

‘Oh, God, of course. I’d forgotten that. So why didn’t he realise she was missing?’ Libby inhaled a lungful of smoke and coughed. ‘I’m going to have to give up.’

‘Not right now, dearie. Wrong time. Wait until this is all over.’

Libby sighed. ‘If it ever
is
over.’

Her basket began to vibrate against her leg and she fumbled inside to find her mobile and got smoke in her eyes.

‘Hello?’ she managed finally, squeezing smarting eyes shut.

‘Mum? Where are you?’

‘Belinda! Darling, I’m sorry I’m not there. Can you cope? We’ve got a bit of a crisis.’

‘I gathered. What’s going on?’

Libby gave her daughter a brief outline of the current situation, amid many gasps of outrage and horror, and promised to see her at the theatre later.

‘Is Dom there yet?’

‘No, Mum, you know what Dom’s like. He’ll tip up at the last minute. Ad’s here, though. He came down with me. He says they’ll both bunk down in the living room and I can have the bed.’

After reassuring Belinda that she wasn’t in any personal danger (having carefully omitted any reference to her unfortunate encounter with the skull), Libby rang off.

‘Belinda and Adam are at Bide-a-Wee. Dominic hasn’t arrived yet.’ She stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I suppose I can’t leave them to fend for themselves for too long.’

‘Of course you can’t. Anyway, you’ll have to go behind the bar again tonight, won’t you? Pete won’t leave the police station while James is still there. And I’ve got bookings.’ Harry reached over and gave Libby’s hand a pat. ‘It really isn’t your problem, petal, no matter how involved with everybody you’ve become. You could just walk away.’

‘Don’t be stupid, Harry, of course I couldn’t. Even if I didn’t love you all, this started with the play. And the play is very much my business – and so is the theatre,’ she added gloomily.

‘
The Hop Pickers
is a success, isn’t it? Well, then.’ Harry stood up, bent to give her a quick kiss and swept up mugs and his brandy glass. ‘Come on. We’ll wash this lot up and then decide what to do next.’

They heard the key in the lock just as Libby was hanging the mugs back on their hooks. Harry rushed past her tossing rubber gloves in his wake.

‘James!’ Libby surged through the furniture and threw her arms round him. ‘Sit down. What happened?’

Peter, emerging from Harry’s effusive welcome, answered her.

‘If Harry’ll give us all a drink, we’ll tell you.’ He patted Harry on the bottom and sat down next to James on the sofa.

‘I’ll help you, Harry,’ said Libby. ‘What do we all want? Pete? James?’

‘Your kids’ll have to cope for a bit longer, now,’ said Harry, as he disregarded everybody’s requests and opened a bottle of champagne.

‘They won’t mind. I’ll go straight to the theatre.’ Libby looked at her watch. ‘Fairly soon.’

With Libby back in her sagging armchair and Harry perched on the arm of the sofa, his arm draped round Peter’s shoulders, Peter began his explanation.

‘For some reason, the police had never bothered to check where James was the night Paula was killed, and assumed he had been in her cottage.’

‘God knows why,’ said James wearily. ‘If I’d been there, I’d have been there when the circus started, wouldn’t I? And surely David knocked on the door? He would have done, wouldn’t he?’

‘Must have done,’ nodded Libby. ‘Go on. Except he didn’t find her until the next morning. You’d have been at work.’

‘Anyway,’ continued Peter, ‘when they started questioning him they found out he was in London, and hadn’t even given up the tenancy on his own house, let alone moved in with Paula.’

‘Millie seemed to think you had,’ said Libby.

‘She wanted me to. Very keen on the whole grandchild idea. We hadn’t got round to the details.’ James put his head in his hands. ‘I told you, I didn’t know what to think.’

‘So what did the police do?’ asked Harry.

‘Kept on at me a bit, but there was nothing I could tell them, even about the bedspread, so they had to let me go.’

‘Bedspread?’ said Libby and Harry together.

James looked surprised. ‘Yes – didn’t you know? She was sitting on a bedspread – or it was in the car. Not quite sure. But that’s how they know she wasn’t killed there.’

There was a silence while Peter, Harry and Libby all looked at each other.

‘There we are then,’ said Harry, ‘just what we wanted to know.’

‘How did you know, James?’ asked Libby.

‘I didn’t, until it came out while they were questioning me. I assumed it was general knowledge.’

‘So was she wrapped in the bedspread and then moved, or did it protect the killer, or what? And was she moved, or was the car moved? And where did the bedspread come from?’ said Libby, getting excited.

‘They showed me the bedspread,’ said James. ‘It was hers. Not from her bed. It was what she called a throw, and she had it over the sofa in the living room.’