Murder Repeated

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Whitelaw? Yes,’ Fran agreed.

  ‘Tell me about Whitelaw.’ Colin swivelled to look at Fran in the back seat. ‘I don’t think I’ve really followed that side of the story.’

  Libby and Fran explained Whitelaw’s involvement.

  ‘But I don’t think we’ve come across any of the other names they mentioned,’ Libby finished. ‘They were all so ordinary.’

  ‘Even the ones where Emma remembered the surnames,’ said Fran. ‘And names like Steven and David – there must be hundreds of them’

  ‘I suppose we could look up Preece’s campaign team on the internet,’ said Libby. ‘Although again, I suppose the police will have done that.’

  ‘Well, you tried.’ Colin tried another smile. ‘It might help.’

  They dropped Fran at the car park and set off for Steeple Martin.

  ‘Do you honestly think that will help?’ Colin asked after a while.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘Maybe we’re clutching at straws.’

  Colin nodded moodily, and stared out into the blackness. ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘So that’s where we are at the moment,’ Libby reported to Ben when she got home. ‘Nowhere, really.’

  ‘Except for Whitelaw,’ said Ben. ‘It looks as though he’s more involved than you thought.’

  ‘I still don’t see how, though.’ Libby sat down on the sofa and accepted a drink. ‘He’s the father of the boy whose body was found, but he couldn’t have murdered him, he sold his house to the Darlings, and he knew Ted Sachs. Well, that’s explained because they were obviously around Felling all at the same time. Except the Darlings. But where’s the link?’

  ‘No idea. Didn’t Fiona say her husband knew Whitelaw through business, or something?’

  ‘Yes – but it still doesn’t seem to have any relevance. Whitelaw is a link, though. Perhaps I shall do a little digging.’

  ‘Be careful,’ said Ben. ‘We don’t want more anonymous letters.’

  ‘Or people attacking me or the brewery,’ agreed Libby darkly.

  Libby’s phone rang.

  ‘It’s me.’ Fran sounded excited. ‘I just thought of something.’

  ‘What? Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. Listen – those names. We do know a David!’

  ‘We do?’

  ‘Yes! We’ve actually talked about him. David Darling.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ exploded Libby.

  ‘Exactly. There’s the link.’

  ‘But – hang on – link to what?’

  ‘They knew one another. Preece, Whitelaw, and Darling. And probably Sachs, too.’

  ‘So they were all involved in baiting Colin? Or all involved in the girl’s murder?’

  ‘I don’t know, but they’ve all got a link to the present day, too.’

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ said Libby. ‘Now what?’

  ‘I had another idea, too.’

  ‘Oh? What?’ said Libby suspiciously.

  ‘Didn’t John tell you at some point he was a member of a local bat and trap team?’

  ‘I think so, why?’

  ‘It must be attached to a pub, then. In Felling. Isn’t the local where most gossip’s exchanged?’

  ‘Yes...’

  ‘Couldn’t you and Ben pay it a sort of official visit? To set up a match?’

  Libby shot a look at Ben, who was obviously trying to follow the conversation and looking worried. ‘I don’t know. We won’t be allowed to use the pitch for ages yet.’

  ‘Ask him.’ Fran was peremptory.

  ‘Ben.’ Libby lowered the phone. ‘Fran wants to know if there’s a chance we could visit the pub in Felling to arrange a bat and trap match.’

  ‘What pub?’ Ben was frowning.

  ‘There must be one. John said -’

  ‘I know. But why?’

  ‘Tell you in a minute.’ She raised the phone to her ear again. ‘He hasn’t actually said no.’

  ‘Don’t you think it would help?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Libby. ‘I mean, we’ve got all the information we need from John and Emma – and from Colin. And I don’t know what we’re going to do with it, anyway. After all, everyone keeps saying leave it alone. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been told that this time, including by you.’

  ‘I’ve just got a feeling...’

  ‘What, a moment?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. But if we could prove -’

  ‘Prove what? That Colin didn’t kill the singer? Well, yes, but linking those people together is hardly going to do that, is it?’

  Fran clicked her tongue impatiently. ‘It’s not like you to be so – so negative!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Libby was genuinely penitent. ‘I just can’t see where we go with it. Or why.’

  ‘All right.’ Fran sighed. ‘Just think about it. Talk to Ben.’

  Libby ended the call and sat staring at her phone.

  ‘Well?’ said Ben. ‘Are you going to tell me what that was all about?’

  Libby told him.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, looking thoughtful, ‘it’s not a bad idea.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Oh, not for the reasons Fran wanted us to go. But to see if they would like to have a match. And perhaps see if they’ve got any fixtures I could go and watch. You could come if you like.’

  Libby stared at him. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Nothing to do with the case.’ He grinned. ‘Just a jolly. I’ll ring John in the morning.’

  By the time Libby got downstairs in the morning, Ben was already preparing to leave for the brewery.

  ‘All set up,’ he said, beaming. ‘Not only have they got a pub, called The Gate Inn, by the way, right next to the Sand Gate – don’t know why we didn’t notice it – there’s a bat and trap fixture on Saturday afternoon. John said we’d be very welcome. I might even get a chance to have a go!’

  After he’d gone, Libby poured herself a cup of tea and sat down to update interested parties, starting with Fran.

  ‘I won’t be able to come,’ said Fran. ‘Saturday’s a busy day. Pity. I’d love to see a match. Will you have a chance to chat to the locals?’

  ‘I don’t think Ben would like that. He made a point of saying it would be nothing to do with the case.’

  ‘Oh.’ Fran was silent. ‘I’ll carry on thinking about it, anyway.’

  Next on Libby’s list was Colin.

  ‘Well, that’s something to look forward to,’ he said. ‘I must admit I’m getting bored sitting round here twiddling my thumbs.’

  ‘Wouldn’t the police let you go into London to your office?’

  ‘It’s only the registered office, Libby,’ said Colin. ‘I do most of my work at home in Spain.’

  ‘Oh! I thought John said you had a woman working for you who went in to collect your post – stuff like that.’

  ‘Carina? Yes. She collects anything the solicitors can’t deal with and tells me if there’s anything that needs my attention. It’s mostly done online these days – even signatures.’

  ‘What – even on contracts?’

  Colin laughed. ‘Yes. Oh, there are some things we have to do by hand, of course, but I come over regularly to deal with those, or Carina posts them to me.’

  ‘Who is she?’ asked Libby. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be nosy.’

  ‘Oh, just a friend.’

  Libby felt snubbed. ‘Can’t you do anything online while you’re here, though? You’ve got your laptop.’

  ‘And a lot of the paperwork’s back in the office in Spain’ said Colin. ‘I didn’t expect to be here so long, did I?’

  Libby had barely ended the call when the landline rang.

  ‘Libby? Abby here.’

  Dame Amanda. Libby mentally reviewed her diary and realised that she’d nearly missed the royal visit. ‘Abby! Where are you?’

  ‘Running late, dear. Coolidge is just fetching the car round, so we’ll be another half an hour or so. Is that all right? So
sorry.’

  ‘No trouble at all,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll see you at the theatre.’

  Pausing only to call Ben to remind him, she rushed upstairs to have a very quick shower and throw on some clothes, grabbed her basket, and left the house. She arrived outside the theatre a bare five minutes before Coolidge drove up in an impressive black saloon. Even though Libby now knew he had been Dame Amanda’s husband for years, he still gave the impression of being a very correct butler.

  However, on the conducted tour round the Oast Theatre, he proved to be a knowledgeable and shrewd theatre professional.

  ‘He knows a lot more about how things work than I do,’ confided Dame Amanda, as she and Libby watched Ben and Coolidge poking about in the scenery dock.

  ‘Ben knows more than I do,’ said Libby. ‘And he’s a great set builder.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he’d – no, of course he wouldn’t,’ said Dame Amanda wistfully.

  Libby smiled. ‘Actually, he’ll probably come butting in anyway, but he is rather busy at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you told me about the brewery. How’s that going? Coolidge wants to see it.’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t just the brewery now,’ said Libby with a sigh. ‘He’s now started his own hop garden. And he’s going to renovate and re-open a little pub in the village.’

  ‘Goodness me!’ Dame Amanda was round eyed. ‘When does he get any time off? And that reminds me, I wonder if any of your regulars would be interested in auditioning for me? I thought it would be a good thing if there were old favourites as well as the people I bring in. Equity rates, of course.’

  Libby was surprised. ‘I’m sure they would. When would that be?’

  ‘Fairly soon, I think. We want the publicity shots out, don’t we? Would you give me a list of those you think I might be interested in and let them know, too?’

  Libby, still rather surprised, said she would.

  When the inspection was over, the visitors were taken into the Manor to see Hetty, who was gruffly gracious and offered coffee and homemade biscuits.

  ‘So now tell us all about these murders you’ve had here,’ said Dame Amanda comfortably, settling herself at the kitchen table.

  ‘Abby!’ warned Coolidge.

  Ben laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it. She’ll tell you anyway.’

  Libby gave him a look.

  ‘Sorry.’ Dame Amanda smiled at him. ‘Remember, I’ve actually known her longer than you have!’

  ‘But I’ve grown up since then,’ said Libby. ‘Mind you, some would say I hadn’t. Anyway, these murders aren’t really anything to do with us.’

  Hetty made a scornful noise from beside the Aga.

  ‘Except,’ said Ben, ‘that we nearly found both the bodies.’

  Dame Amanda and Coolidge expressed astonishment, and Libby went on to explain.

  ‘So it really isn’t anything to do with us, except that we’ve provided background information and rather taken poor Colin under our wing.’

  ‘Colin?’ said Coolidge. ‘That’s the young man who owns the hotel? Who lives in Spain?’

  Libby nodded. ‘It’s all a bit of a muddle really, and we can’t see how the two murders link up. They’re twenty years apart.’

  ‘What about young Fran?’ asked Amanda. ‘Hasn’t she had any insights?’

  ‘No, but she’s keen to carry on to try and clear Colin’s name.’

  ‘Felling,’ pondered Coolidge. ‘You know, that rings a bell. The vanishing singer. I remember that.’

  ‘Do you, dear?’ Amanda raised her eyebrows. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I knew someone who was involved. Peripherally, I’m sure, but... You did, too, Abby.’

  ‘I did?’

  ‘Yes, dear. Nigel Preece.’

  Chapter Thirty One

  ‘Oh, no!’ said Libby.

  ‘Why, dear?’ Amanda looked surprised.

  ‘He just keeps popping up,’ said Libby. ‘I can’t believe you knew him, too.’

  ‘Not to say knew, exactly,’ said Coolidge. ‘You remember, Abby? Not a very nice person.’

  No, that’s what we’ve heard,’ said Ben. ‘How did you come across him?’

  ‘Years ago. He introduced himself at an after show party, and thereafter tried to claim intimate friendship with Abby. He became a nuisance.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember. Always surrounded with a little entourage. Thought himself no end of a personage,’ said Amanda. ‘How did we get rid of him?’

  ‘We ignored him,’ said Coolidge, with a wry smile. ‘And then he started mouthing off about Abby in public.’

  ‘Whatever did he say?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Oh, the usual things – you know. A has been who still thought we were still in the fifties. Thought she was better than she actually was. In fact, just the sort of person he was himself.’

  ‘What happened in the end?’ asked Ben.

  ‘It all tailed off. Better to ignore that sort of thing. It happens a lot in our business, as I’m sure you know.’ Abby smiled at Libby. ‘But something happened, didn’t it, dear?’ she said to her husband.

  ‘That was why I remember the singer affair. It was said he was involved in her disappearance. I wouldn’t have taken any notice if it hadn’t been for the fact that we always kept an eye out for his name in the papers.’ Coolidge shook his head. ‘He didn’t say anything more about us. But then he became an MP and there was some other scandal, if I remember rightly. So how did you come across him?’

  ‘Apparently he hosted the party where the singer disappeared,’ said Libby. ‘And the police have been warned off him in this investigation.’

  ‘I don’t know how he’s got that much influence,’ said Amanda. ‘Is it family?’

  ‘It must be,’ said Ben. ‘But Libby thinks he’s taking a hand again. I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Why is that, dear?’ Amanda and Coolidge both looked at Libby.

  ‘Well...’ Libby looked at Ben. ‘You tell it.’

  Ben sighed. ‘I received an anonymous letter. Threatening the brewery – and Libby.’

  Amanda and Coolidge both expressed horror.

  ‘And you think it was Preece?’ said Coolidge.

  ‘I can’t think who else,’ said Libby.

  ‘He wouldn’t have done it himself,’ said Coolidge thoughtfully. ‘He wouldn’t get his hands dirty.’

  ‘Well, we do know that several people who were part of his – entourage – back then are still around now. One of them, perhaps?’ said Libby.

  ‘What I don’t get, though,’ said Ben, ‘is how he’s kept them around for so long.’

  ‘He’s got something on them,’ said Coolidge, looking interested. ‘What do they all do?’

  ‘Two of them are businessmen of some sort,’ said Libby. ‘Pharmaceuticals, I think one of them is.’

  ‘And one is a self-employed builder,’ said Ben.

  ‘They were all involved in the disappearance of that girl, then,’ said Amanda brightly. ‘And the guilt has bound them together!’

  Coolidge smiled indulgently. ‘But they’ve got a modern body, too, my darling.’

  Amanda looked fazed for a moment. ‘Well, obviously, they’re all involved in that, too!’

  ‘Except that one of them is the modern body’s father,’ said Ben.

  ‘Ah.’ Amanda looked crestfallen.

  By this time they had finished their coffee.

  ‘We must go,’ said Coolidge. ‘Thank you so much for the coffee.’ He stood and gave Hetty a little bow. Libby was delighted to see Hetty’s cheeks glow a faint pink. ‘And thank you for the theatre tour, Ben and Libby. It’s a delightful space.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Amanda, gathering herself together and collecting her handbag. ‘I do envy you, Libby. I tell you what,’ she leant forward, ‘I’ve got a project in mind that perhaps we could do together.’ She looked at Coolidge. ‘What do you think, dear?’

  ‘If you mean what I think you do,’ he said, looking resigned, ‘I think y
ou ought to speak to Clemency.’

  Libby looked from Coolidge to Amanda. ‘Very mysterious,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, well, you’ll see her soon enough. She’s coming back to do Puss too,’ said Amanda. She kissed Hetty’s cheek and made a regal exit.

  ‘She doesn’t change,’ said Coolidge, as he handed her into their car. Libby kissed him.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad you’ll be here soon.’

  Libby walked back to the brewery with Ben.

  ‘You know,’ he said, ‘there’s something in what they said. It does look as though Preece has something on Whitelaw, Darling, and Sachs.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Libby. ‘The fact that they’re all connected to Ossie’s murder – in an odd sort of way – looks a bit like coincidence. I know It’s not like me to admit that, and I’ve spent a lot of time trying to link everything up, but when you think about it...’

  ‘All right. I’ll admit it, too. And now I’m going to have a walk round the garden -’

  ‘Too many gardens,’ grinned Libby. ‘I presume you mean the hop garden?’

  ‘Yes, sorry. The hop garden – to check on the bines. They’re doing well for their first year, don’t you think?’

  Libby gave him an impulsive hug. ‘When I think of you when I first came here – all smart suits and city, and now look at you! The typical countryman. All hops and bat and trap.’

  ‘And look at you! Giving your beloved panto over to someone else. Never were there such times.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Libby, ‘Abby’s asked me -’

  Ben groaned. ‘Not to be in it, surely!’

  ‘No, but to see if any of our regulars would like to audition.’

  ‘Really? But you said the other day, when you’d been to see Bob, they were all grateful for the year off.’

  ‘I bet some of them will love it,’ said Libby.

  ‘And what about this “project” Dame Amanda has in mind?’

  ‘We’ll have to see!’ Libby gave him a mischievous smile. ‘And now I’m going home. See you later.’

  She walked on past the fledgling hop garden, past the hoppers’ huts and through the meadow. Approaching the top end of Allhallow’s Lane, she was surprised to see a small white van parked sideways across it. She stopped and peered through the side window. Empty. She looked round but could see no one.