‘That presupposes they actually are involved with all this, then,’ said Libby. ‘And be fair, David Darling didn’t come looking for me, I rather thrust myself on him.’
‘Well, it proves that he is the David we’d heard about, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, I think so. I wonder what he’ll say to Rob Maiden.’
‘Not much, I would imagine.’
‘Yes, that’s what Rachel said. Oh, well, I’ll go home then. I might actually go and touch Harry up for lunch. I don’t fancy being on my own yet.’
She parked the car in Allhallow’s Lane and set off for the high street. As she passed the vicarage, Beth hailed her from the front door.
‘What’s been happening?’ she asked. ‘Police cars yesterday?’
Libby told her about the intruder. ‘And I’m buying intruder proof hedging for the back fence,’ she said. ‘I’m a liability as a neighbour, aren’t I?’
‘You provide local interest, certainly,’ said Beth. ‘Wednesday, isn’t it? All right if we come for a drink tonight? I think John’ll be home.’
‘Lovely,’ said Libby. ‘Shall we call for you on the way past?’
‘No, we’ll pop round after John’s eaten. See you later, then.’
Libby went on her way to the Pink Geranium, resisting going in to Bob the butcher to ask him what he thought about auditioning for Dame Amanda. She would think about that when the current problem had been resolved, or at least moved away from her vicinity.
To her surprise and slight annoyance, the Pink Geranium was almost full.
‘Always room for a small one,’ said Harry, coming forward to open the door. ‘I’m a bit busy, as you can see, but you look as though you could do with a bit of pampering. Come through to the garden.’
The garden was actually a small courtyard which opened off the kitchen, and which Harry had intended to open to customers, but as there was also a staircase leading to the upstairs flat, currently let to Adam Sarjeant, he decided to keep it private. In the past it had been space for Libby to have a cigarette and today awoke a nostalgic longing which she attributed to delayed shock.
‘Wine?’ asked Harry. She nodded.
‘So what’s up?’ he said, after delivering it.
‘Scary encounter,’ she said. ‘Tell you when you’ve got a minute.’
He frowned, nodded, and went back to the kitchen.
‘Do you want me to call Ben?’ he called from inside.
‘God, no!’ Libby shuddered. Harry laughed.
One of Harry’s floating population of waiting staff brought her a bowl of soup and a basket of bread, and she ate mechanically. Finally, Harry slid into the seat opposite and leant his elbows on the table.
‘OK, come on, then.’
Libby sat back in her chair and picked up her wine glass. ‘I went to see Fiona Darling.’
‘Ah.’ Harry nodded. ‘And she wasn’t there.’
‘What? You knew?’
‘Donna. She’d given Fiona her phone number in case she wanted anything. So she phoned yesterday. Said thank you for the help – which Donna hadn’t really given her – but she was leaving her husband and going back to London.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Libby. ‘Rachel and I were wondering if... well, if something had happened to her.’
‘If he’d bumped her off, you mean?’
‘Yes. I think Donna had better tell the police.’
‘You tell them, flower. Be more natural, wouldn’t it?’
‘I suppose so. I’ll call later.’
‘So that’s who the encounter was with? Fiona’s husband?’
‘Yes, and he was threatening. And Ted Sachs was there. And I’ve sicked the police on to them. Oh, Lord,’ Libby groaned.
‘So does this prove any of your theories?’
‘I don’t know! Most of it was speculation, wasn’t it?’
‘The police seemed to take it seriously enough,’ said Harry. ‘And then there’s white van man from yesterday – which, you naughty person, you didn’t tell us about.’
‘Sorry,’ said Libby automatically.
‘Any more news on that little episode?’
‘No. Rachel says the van was stolen and found burnt out. And to be honest, it could have just been an opportunist burglar. It needn’t have been anything to do with this – stuff.’
‘Be a bit odd if it wasn’t, petal.’ Harry frowned at her.
‘I’d watch myself, if I were you.’
‘Oh, not you as well,’ said Libby. ‘Everyone’s telling me to be careful.’
‘Just shows how much we all love you,’ said Harry, patting her hand. ‘Now I’ve got to get back to my kitchen. A woman’s work is never done.’
Libby finished her wine and stood up. ‘How much...?’ she began.
‘Don’t be a wazzock. Go on, go home.’
Libby sidled out through the kitchen and started for home. At the corner of Allhallow’s Lane she remembered she was supposed to be telling the police about Donna’s information, and fished her phone out of her basket. She called the incident room number, where she was immediately put through to Rachel.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing, don’t worry. I just had to tell you something.’ She relayed what Harry had told her. ‘So nothing’s happened to Fiona. Did DI Maiden get anything out of Darling?’
‘Well, not a lot,’ said Rachel.
‘Hang on,’ said Libby. ‘I’m at my front door. I’ll just put you down for a minute and let myself in.’ She dropped the phone into her basket and found her keys.
‘Well,’ said a voice, as she stepped inside. ‘If it isn’t the indefatigable Mrs Sarjeant.’
She stopped dead. Sitting at ease on the sofa, legs neatly crossed, was Sir Nigel Preece.
Chapter Thirty Five
Libby dropped her basket.
‘Do you know who I am?’ he said. ‘I don’t believe we’ve ever met.’
Libby cleared her throat. ‘I – I’ve seen pictures.’
‘Of course you have. You’ll have done quite a lot of research, won’t you? I know a lot about you.’ He smiled. ‘And you know several of my friends, I believe.’
‘D-do I?’
‘You saw my friend David – Dave the Rave, we used to call him – only this morning. Forgotten already? And dear Ted. You saw him, too, although you had met him before.’
‘Er – yes.’ Libby prayed Rachel hadn’t rung off and could hear all this clearly. At least Sir Nigel hadn’t decided to go through her basket.
‘And now, my dear Mrs Sarjeant, or may I call you Libby? Do tell me why you and your friend have been so assiduously looking into things that don’t concern you?’
‘I haven’t! When you’ve got two bodies in a house belonging to a friend, you’re naturally interested.’
‘Unnaturally, I should say. I don’t appreciate the interest.’
‘Why not?’ asked Libby bravely. ‘If you didn’t have anything to do with the bodies? And,’ she went on, ‘how did you get in here?’
Unconcerned, Sir Nigel gestured towards the kitchen, and Libby turned her head to see a scared-looking Ted Sachs holding a struggling Sidney.
‘Put my cat down!’ Libby screeched. Sidney and Sachs both jumped, and Sidney lashed out, catching Sachs on the cheek and jumping free.
‘Dear me,’ said Sir Nigel. ‘Never mind, Ted. I’m sure it won’t kill you. As we were saying, Libby. Our associate yesterday managed to cut the padlock chain on your back gate. Quite successful, we thought. You were never in danger. So, we just let ourselves in. Luckily, we didn’t encounter your nosy neighbour.’
No, thought Libby, because Mrs Mardle would be at Carpenter’s Hall with Flo and Hetty.
‘Come along then, my dear. Tell us what you’ve found out?’
‘Nothing,’ said Libby bravely. ‘I don’t know anything.’
‘I wonder why the police were being – let’s say, a tad intrusive, then? All off their own bat, was it? And your –
what? Partner? Boyfriend? Why was he so interested in the Garden Hotel?’
‘Nothing to do with you!’ Come along, Rachel, prayed Libby. ‘Get me out of this.’
‘Such a shame if he lost his lovely new hop garden – and his brewery.’ Sir Nigel narrowed his eyes. ‘And his dear old mother. Now, what about her?’
This time Libby couldn’t speak. She discovered that she was shaking from head to foot.
Sir Nigel gestured to Ted, who came forward and grabbed Libby’s arms. She struggled, but Ted held on. Sir Nigel stood up.
‘Now, let’s go,’ he said. ‘The front way, I think. Just like proper guests. Turn her round, Ted.’
Ted manhandled her in front of him and reached past to open the door. Libby could barely put one foot in front of the other as he pushed her outside.
And suddenly there was Ian.
Behind him, Rachel, Rob Maiden and a positive bevy of uniformed officers, some of them, Libby noticed, armed, came forward. Sir Nigel, close behind Libby, tried to turn back, but Ian was too quick for him. Pushing Libby aside and into the arms of Rob Maiden, he grabbed an elegantly clothed sleeve and pulled. Sir Nigel staggered and fell backwards. Libby hardly heard the words of the formal arrest. She was too busy collapsing onto the pavement.
Rachel came forward and helped her to sit up. ‘Well done,’ she whispered. ‘Brilliant in fact. Where was it?’
‘Where -?’
‘Your phone. We put it on a speaker. We recorded everything.’
‘In my basket. I kept hoping you hadn’t switched off.’ Libby sat up straight. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Ian’s arrested Preece and Sachs. DCI Connell, I mean. Can you stand up?’
Libby was helped to her feet, and ushered gently back into her own house. There was no sign of Sidney. Ian and PC Robinson, smiling broadly, followed, with, surprisingly, Mrs Mardle.
‘I just came home in the middle of it, dear,’ she said, her eyes bright with interest. ‘Now that nice policeman’s gong to let me make you a lovely cup of tea.’
Libby, mouth agape, looked at Ian, who nodded. ‘Perhaps Mrs Mardle could make us all one?’ he said.
‘Oh, yes, dear!’ said Mrs Mardle. ‘I’ll find everything. Proper tea, isn’t it?’
Libby lay back on the sofa and wondered when she would wake up.
‘We won’t know the details yet,’ said Ian, ‘but Sachs is in the mood to crack, and so’s David Darling. I don’t know about Nicholas Whitelaw, yet. We don’t know where he went after he left here. It certainly wasn’t home.’
‘But they’re definitely guilty?’ asked Libby. ‘Of both murders?’
‘We think so, but which one of them we don’t know.’
‘Did you know about their group from school?’
‘The Little Foxes? Yes. And quite a lot more besides. There was rather an unpleasant club at that school. We think it might still be in existence.’
Mrs Mardle appeared with a tray Libby couldn’t ever remember using before and placed it on the table in the window.
‘We’ll just let it draw a bit,’ she said. ‘How are you now, dear? Does Colin know? And your Ben?’
‘Ben’s on his way,’ said Rachel. ‘Accompanied. He was in a bit of a state.’
‘Oh, hell,’ said Libby.
‘And Mr Hardcastle has been informed,’ said Ian. ‘He wanted to come, too, but we persuaded him not to. I think your sitting room’s quite crowded enough already.’
Mrs Mardle poured out tea, Ian asked everyone to sit down, and Libby looked round at the most unlikely tea party she had ever hosted.
‘You haven’t told me off yet,’ she said to Ian, and heard both Rachel’s and PC Robinson’s in-drawn breath.
He grinned at her. ‘I really can’t think why I should. You didn’t let Sir Nigel in, did you? And you were in the middle of giving DS Trent important information. Not to mention your quick thinking about your mobile.’
‘Actually, it wasn’t,’ confessed Libby. ‘I’d already dropped it into my basket to let myself in. I just left it there. I didn’t want them finding it.’
There were murmurs of approval all round, just as the door opened and Ben walked in. He looked round the room, went straight to Libby and enfolded her in a bear hug. She was a little surprised and disconcerted to find that he, too, was shaking.
‘Bit too close for comfort, he said gruffly.
‘We’ll just finish our tea,’ said Ian, ‘and get out of your way. Libby can give us a formal statement tomorrow.’
Rachel and Robinson swallowed unhealthy amounts of tea, and Mrs Mardle made to clear the tray.
‘Leave it,’ said Ben, ‘thank you all the same.’ He gave Mrs Mardle an absentminded pat.
Ian shepherded them all outside, pausing in the doorway.
‘Feel up to the pub tonight?’
Ben looked at Libby. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I want to be normal.’
‘Good,’ said Ian. ‘Assuming all the local suspects will be there, I’ll try and get along to give you one of my famous round-ups.’
‘Is that allowed?’ asked Libby, with a mischievous grin.
‘Oh, you’re better!’ said Ian, and left.
Ben spent the rest of the afternoon treating his beloved like a piece of fragile china, until she threw a cushion at him and he burst out laughing.
‘Shall I phone Fran and Guy and ask them to come over?’ he said. ‘Fran will want to know.’
‘Yes, please. Beth and John are coming, too.’
‘I’d better ask Tim if we can book the bar as a private hire, then,’ said Ben, pulling out his phone.
Fran and Guy arrived at number seventeen just after eight o’clock and were told the whole story.
‘I don’t want to go through it all tonight,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll tell Harry and Peter another time. We just want to know about the arrests. And the murders.’
By the time they walked into the pub, Patti and Anne were already there with Beth and John Cole, all agog.
Ben grinned at them all. ‘I can see you’ve heard something’s been going on. But give us a chance to get the drinks and we’ll tell you.’
Anne was obviously bursting with curiosity, and Patti had to keep shutting her up. Beth and John laughed at her. By the time Guy and Ben came back with drinks, there were enough chairs round the table, and Tim, grinning, had obligingly locked the door into the other bar.
‘Where’s Colin?’ asked Libby. ‘He should be here.’
‘Oh, he popped his head round the door,’ said Patti. ‘He seemed embarrassed.’
‘I’ll go up and get him,’ said Ben. ‘I’ ve already heard the story.’
‘Tell us, then, Libby!’ said Anne. ‘Beth says there was a police raid on your house! And police there yesterday, too. What’s going on?’
Libby gave them a brief outline of the events of the last thirty-six hours, finishing just as Ben reappeared with Colin.
‘It’s all right, he knows about what happened earlier,’ said Ben.
Colin came quickly round the table, and Libby was enfolded in another bear hug. ‘I’m so sorry, Libby,’ he muttered.
‘Why?’ Libby kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t do anything.’
‘But you’ve been trying to help me. It’s my fault...’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Ben.
‘Really, Colin, please don’t blame yourself,’ said Fran. ‘She’s quite capable of getting into trouble all by herself.’
‘Oi!’ said Libby, indignant at the laughter which broke out all round the table.
‘What’s the joke?’ asked Peter, coming through from the front door. ‘And I almost had to bribe Tim to let me in.’
‘We’re having one of Ian’s round-ups,’ said Libby, ‘so not open to the public.’
‘Ah, case solved then? I heard there’d been some shenanigans this afternoon.’
‘Actually, we’ve got Harry to thank,’ said Libby. ‘If he hadn’t told me about Fio
na and persuaded me to tell the police, I could have been – well, I don’t know. Kidnapped at the very least.’
‘OK – explain,’ said Peter. ‘And I don’t think we’ll tell him. You know how he’d crow about it.’
‘Are you talking about me?’ Harry came in, still in his chef’s whites.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Ben.
‘Oh, charming!’ Harry tossed his head. ‘Persuaded my girls and boys they could manage without me. We hadn’t got any more bookings, so we put the closed sign up. I didn’t want to miss anything.’
Libby had just finished explaining once again what had happened that afternoon, when the door opened again and Edward and Ian came in.
‘I had to be in at the kill, so to speak,’ said Edward. ‘Anyone want a drink?’
Eventually, the expanded circle was settled and they all looked to Ian to begin.
‘How about if I just tell the story as it happened from the start?’ he said. ‘Beginning with the infamous party you attended, Colin.’ There was unanimous assent, although Colin looked a bit apprehensive.
‘Nigel Preece hosted a party held in the rather ramshackle barn on his father’s property. There had been illegal parties held there in the past, but these seem to have tailed off. Nigel and his group of friends, three of whom you know about -’
‘Who?’ said Anne.
‘Oscar Whitelaw’s father, Nicholas-’
‘The boy who was found first,’ nodded Beth.
‘David Darling, husband of Fiona Darling who found his body,’ Ian went on, ‘and Ted Sachs who gave Mrs Darling the keys to the Garden Hotel. There were more of them, but we needn’t worry about them now. They were an unsavoury group, who had all been to school together.’
‘Foxgrove?’ asked Beth.
‘Yes, Foxgrove. There is still a rather nasty club at the school, which has traditions of its own, as many of these places do, including what they call blooding rites.’
The women expressed disgust.
‘No wonder Ossie was unhappy,’ said Beth, looking rather unhappy herself.
‘He wasn’t old enough to become a member of the Little Foxes,’ said Ian.
‘I do object to that name,’ muttered Libby.
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