Murder on the Tor: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 3) (13 page)

The vet gave a little, sad laugh. “She wanted to be an architect, and she managed to earn a place at one of the best universities in the country. She wanted Malcolm Perivale, and it was the easiest thing in the world for her to take him from Jemima. She should have been happy, but…”

She looked straight at Libby. “She had a secret. She told me about it. She trusted me, because she knew how I felt, even though she didn’t return my feelings. You see, Catriona needed men, like she needed air to breathe. She felt safe, confiding everything in me, including her conquests. I warned her to be careful, but she didn’t listen. The University doctor prescribed the contraceptive pill, but she often forgot to take it.”

Tanya stroked Fluffy, as the cat’s eyes closed. “She used to say, ‘It’ll be fine, don’t fuss,’ but of course, the inevitable happened. Catriona fell pregnant, and she was distraught. She could hardly believe such a thing would happen to her. She imagined all her dreams of a future career disappearing, if she left University to bring up the baby.” Tanya wouldn’t look at Libby. “She gave him up for adoption. She couldn’t bear to let anything stand in the way of her future.”

“Not even her own child?”

Tanya’s eyes met Libby’s, hard and bright with unshed tears. “Don’t you dare judge her. Things were different, in those days. It broke Catriona’s heart to give away her son.” The vet gulped and dashed a hand over her eyes. “When she fell from the window, that night, she dropped the necklace―the amber beads she’d fought Jemima to keep. The necklace was on the pavement, by her head, and I picked it up. No one noticed, they were all too busy looking at Catriona and the blood, seeping all over the pavement. I gave the necklace to the couple who adopted her son, Sam. That’s what she would have wanted. I was the only one who knew who they were. Sam’s new parents kept it for him, and he passed it on to his daughter, Katy.”

So, that was how the little girl came by the beads. “Did Jemima Bakewell know about the pregnancy?”

The vet shrugged. “I don’t know; we never mentioned it. Catriona went away for six months, to have the baby. The story was, she was working for an architect―some of the courses included practical placements, so the other students believed her. She thought everything would be all right. There was no need for her to die.”

“No need...” Libby stopped in mid-sentence. Slowly, the pieces of the jigsaw fell into place in her mind. “I can think of a very good reason why someone thought Catriona needed to die. And there’s someone else in danger, right now.”

Jemima

Max’s Jaguar squealed to a halt outside the vet’s surgery. Libby jumped inside, pulling on her jacket. Adrenalin pumped through her body
.

Max’s hands were light on the wheel. “Good of you to call. Mind telling me why you need to get to Miss Bakewell in such a hurry?”

Libby was silent, leaning forward, straining to see the lanes in the dark. “Can’t you go any faster?”

“We’re there.” She was out of the car and running up the path before Max had pulled on the handbrake. He was shouting. “Come back, you idiot.”

She pounded the door with her right hand, her left thumb hard on the bell. No one came. Libby jabbed the letter box open, shouting. “Jemima. Miss Blackwell. Let me in.”

Slowly, the door inched open, jamming on the chain. The school teacher’s eyes peered round the door. Her mouth trembled. “You can’t come in.”

“Open the door, Jemima.” The teacher shook her head. “You can’t…” she whispered. “I’m busy.”

Libby raised her voice. “The police are on their way. They’ll be here in a moment.”

The door slammed shut. Max said, “Stay here.” To a back drop of wailing sirens and flashing lights, he took off at a run, trampled over flowerbeds, cursed as he crashed into a rubbish bin, leaped over a side gate, and disappeared round the back of the house.

“Stay where you are, Mrs F.” Joe Ramshore jumped from the first police car as it squealed to a halt, lights flashing, and followed his father. A young detective constable ran round the other side of the house.

With a rattle, the front door flew open. Libby pushed past a terrified Jemima Bakewell and ran through the building, emerging at the back, just in time to see Max in the garden, rolling on the grass with someone that aimed ineffectual punches at his face, as Joe arrived. In seconds, the man was in handcuffs.

Max brushed mud from his trousers. “Well, Professor, don’t you think it’s time to give in? You’re really too old for this sort of thing.”

***

Mandy will be furious to have missed the fun
. Libby made tea, once more adding a dash of whisky to Miss Bakewell’s cup. After a moment’s thought, she added a bigger dash to her own. The school teacher fussed in cupboards, looking for chocolate hobnobs, as though Libby and Max were ordinary visitors invited into her home.

Max was stern. “Time to explain yourself, Miss Bakewell. And let’s drop all the ancient ‘curse of the beads’ flim-flam.”

Libby giggled, elation making her foolish.
Flim-flam?
Max shot her a warning glance and she subsided on a chair. “Yes, you’d better come clean. We know what’s been going on.”

Miss Bakewell picked at a thread hanging from a tweed skirt. “I suppose the story has to come out, now.” The woman’s self-possession was astonishing. The professor had been close behind as she opened the door, a kitchen knife in his hand. She’d been in terrible danger, yet she was quite calm. Libby shuddered. “Is there anyone who’ll come and look after you?”

Miss Bakewell shrugged. “I’m used to being alone.”

“You’ve been in love with the professor all these years, haven’t you?”

The elderly spinster let out a long sigh. “We had so much in common, Malcolm and I. I knew him first, at University. My mistake was introducing him to Catriona. He fell in love with her, and made me give the necklace back to him. She wanted it, you see. Malcolm said he’d tell the authorities I stole them, if I didn’t hand them back.”

“What really happened at the party? We’ve heard so many versions. It’s time you told the whole truth.”

“It was the sixties, so there was drink everywhere, and drugs. Catriona was drunk and high and Malcolm danced with me.” Her face lit up at the memory, then her lips quivered, “He did it to make Catriona jealous.”

She gulped her tea and held out the cup. “I think I could do with a refill.” As Libby obliged, she went on, “I’m afraid the details are a bit blurry. I’d had too much to drink, and the Professor and I...” An ugly blush disfigured the teacher’s face. “He took me upstairs. Catriona burst in. She was screeching like a crazy woman. It was nothing to do with the necklace. They had a fight, right there, in the bedroom, and Catriona screamed at him, saying it was his fault she’d had to give away her baby, and she’d tell everyone he was the father.”

A sudden flash of pure spite lit Miss Bakewell’s face. “You can imagine what that did to the professor. He was on the way to a great career at the University. He would be ruined, if people found out. He went crazy, and ran at her. She backed away, against the window. It was open. You see, I told you, she fell out of the window.”

Max broke in, “Except, she didn’t fall, did she? The professor pushed her.”

Miss Bakewell’s hands fluttered round her neck, as though feeling the invisible beads. “I don’t know, not for sure. We stuck together, after it happened. The professor was the cleverest of us all. He was going to do great things, and we were his friends. He couldn’t have the truth about Catriona’s baby getting out. It would ruin any chance of employment at the University, in those days. He told us Catriona’s fall was an accident.”

Libby said, “But you all knew. I think you’re still lying. You guessed the truth about Catriona’s absence that summer, you found out about the baby, and you told Malcolm Perivale. You thought he’d break up with her and come back to you, but you were wrong. You underestimated the cold-blooded ambition of the man. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his career, and he couldn’t trust Catriona to keep it quiet. Who knows, she might even have talked about getting the baby back. He couldn’t take the chance, so he got rid of Catriona.” Libby shuddered. “With Catriona out of the way, and the child safely adopted, the professor got away without a stain on his character.”

“We made a pact never to meet. I never married.” Miss Bakewell’s voice was bleak.

Max folded his arms. “The professor deserves to pay for what he did, although I’m not sure the police could find enough evidence to convict him of murder. But, why start killing people now, after so long?”

Libby said, “It was the photographic exhibition. The professor killed John to stop the exhibition, knowing there would be photos of Catriona.”

Miss Bakewell’s head wagged. “That’s right. I suppose he lured John up to the top of the Tor, with some story about the old days. He’s strong, the professor, and John was so small and slight. All Malcolm had to do was trip John up, get the plastic bag over his head and sit on him until he died. But then the exhibition went ahead, anyway. That Chesterton Wendlebury wouldn’t waste the money his company spent on setting it up. He said it was a tribute.” Her eyes flashed. “I went to see the photographs, not even thinking about Catriona, but there she was. It brought it all back. I think I went a little crazy.”

“This evening, when I opened the door, Malcolm was there. I thought he’d come back to me, at last.”

Libby said, “But he came to kill you.”

***

Back in the car, Libby shivered. “She’s a little crazy, isn’t she?”

“Pretty much. But harmless, I think. Anyway, the professor was cleaning up his mess, and she was next on the list. I don’t think she’s a danger to anyone.”

Libby thought about the child; the grandchild of foolish Catriona and the cold, calculating professor. What an ancestry. “Do you think Katy will ever talk properly?”

Max grinned, a little sheepishly. “I told her father I’d take Bear over to see her, now and then. Well, quite often, really. Sam reckons she’s already taken the first steps to recovery from whatever they call it―elective mutism, I believe. And, if she’s got the beads, she won’t keep running away to look for them on the Tor.”

“The Tor. All that nonsense about the beads bringing bad luck. It’s just another story to add to all the others.” Libby laughed. “Funny, how easy it is to start believing in the supernatural, when all the time there was an explanation for everything that happened.”

Max drew to a halt. “Libby,” he said. “I know you’re angry with me about Trevor. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything. I wanted to be sure.” His arm slid round her shoulders. “I should have trusted you.”

“Yes, you should.” Libby longed to lean her head on his shoulder. His arm was so comforting. She took a long breath. “I think I can forgive you, Max, but not quite yet. You see, I trusted Trevor, for all those years, but he was making a fool of me. I have to sort things out in my own mind. Did he love me? Was he a wicked man, or just a silly, weak one who controlled me because he couldn’t control himself? I can’t decide, and it’s driving me crazy. I need the full story.”

Shark

The sun was already beating down on Exham when Libby woke next morning; perfect for a run on the beach with Shipley. Libby heard his frenzied bark as she approached the house. Marina took longer than usual to open the door, and at first sight, she looked flustered. Her hair stuck out at wild angles and the top of her frilly blouse drooped, unfastened. “You’d better come in,” she murmured, blushing and fiddling with the floppy bow.

“I came to take Shipley for a run...”

In the doorway of the living room, Chesterton Wendlebury beamed. “My dear lady. Have you come to help Marina prepare for her book club?” His voice boomed.

Libby shook her head. “Dog walking.”

“Ah. Do you have the redoubtable Bear with you?”

“He’s in the car.” Finding the man here was a surprise, but Libby wasn’t going to miss the opportunity. “Mr Wendlebury.” She took a slow breath. “I believe you might have known my husband.”

“Oh? What makes you think that?” His voice purred.

“Trevor―that’s my husband―brought us all here for a holiday, a few years ago. He had business in the area, and spent almost every day driving off to meetings with clients.” Wendlebury inclined his head in a vague gesture that could mean either yes or no. Libby ploughed on. “After that holiday, my husband changed. I now know that, around that time, he became involved in shady business deals.”

“Ah.” Wendlebury crossed one leg over the other. “I recognise the influence of Max Ramshore on your information. I’ve often wondered about Mr Ramshore. A banker, taking early retirement, making frequent trips abroad.” He smiled, showing large, tombstone teeth.
Like a shark.
“Oh, yes, Mrs Forest, you’re not the only one to see through that man’s cover. I’ve made it my business to check up on him. Along with many financial wizards, he was snapped up by our―er―” he coughed, in a parody of discretion. “Shall we say, by our civil service?”

He broke off as Marina arrived with a tray of coffee. “Marina, Mrs Forest and I were talking over old times. I expect, like most people in town, you thought she was new to the area?”