Murder Imperfect

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘So is it linked to the attack?’ asked Ben.

  ‘They didn’t tell me, but it’s logical to think they are linking it.’

  ‘What did they say to Cy?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Much the same as they said to me.’

  ‘But I thought,’ said Libby, turning to Harry, ‘that you said Colin was home and would come to collect Cy this afternoon.’

  Peter sighed heavily. ‘How do you think they found out that the house had been burgled? Colin got home and found it. He called the police and the police called me to see if Cy was all right. Then they spoke to Cy and said he can’t go back. They’re sending someone to speak to both Cy and Colin once he gets here.’

  ‘But you haven’t got room for them both,’ said Ben. ‘And what about Christmas? Not to mention Cy’s pantomime.’

  ‘I think the pantomime will have to look after itself,’ said Libby. ‘The first thing to do is find somewhere for Cy and Colin to stay.’

  ‘Well, it’s no problem,’ said Ben, taking a swig at his bottle.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Steeple Farm.’ Ben put the bottle on the counter. ‘If I can get up there. Should be able to. I can use the tractor to clear the lane if it’s blocked.’

  ‘Steeple Farm?’ echoed three voices.

  ‘Stands to reason. I mean, it’s not quite finished, but the heating’s on – I put it on in case the pipes froze – the wood burner in the lounge is in working order, and there’s a working cooker, fridge and washing machine in the kitchen. And there are still beds. We’ll just have to find some bed linen.’

  Peter, Harry and Libby all stared at him with open mouths.

  ‘You’d do that for them?’ said Libby.

  ‘Well, what else are they supposed to do?’ said Ben, sounding irritated. ‘It’s empty, it’s habitable, and they need somewhere to stay. And if the damage to their home is more than just a burglary, they’ll need somewhere to stay for longer than a few nights.’

  ‘All my mother’s old linen is at our cottage. And towels and things,’ said Peter. He stood up and held out his hand to Ben. ‘You’re a bloody marvel.’

  ‘It’s actually still your house,’ said Ben, laughing, ‘or your mother’s anyway.’

  ‘But you’ve done all the work on it,’ said Harry, clapping Ben on the back. ‘Thanks, mate.’

  ‘I’m doing it for you two as much anything,’ said Ben. ‘I don’t think you’d enjoy being cooped up with Cy and Colin for long.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ said Libby, finishing her beer. ‘We’d better get back and tell Cy the good news. I bet he’s bricking it.’

  Harry looked at her admiringly. ‘Where do you get these expressions, dear heart?’ he said. She gave him a dirty look.

  Ben called Hetty and said they might be a little late for lunch, then they locked up the theatre and walked down the drive to the cottage.

  Cy was on his feet by the window when they went in. He turned a haggard face in their direction.

  ‘Col’s just phoned,’ he said. ‘The place is all smashed up.’

  Harry went over and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Has he got clothes and stuff for you?’

  Cy nodded, wincing. ‘There were some left.’ He let Harry lead him back to the chair.

  ‘Well, don’t worry,’ said Peter, ‘we’ve got somewhere for you both to stay.’

  ‘For as long as you like,’ added Ben.

  ‘You have?’ Cy looked between them, bewildered.

  ‘How about a drink?’ said Libby briskly. ‘Hal?’

  ‘Yup. What does everyone want? Brandy for you, Cy, I think.’ Harry went towards the kitchen.

  Peter and Ben told Cy about Steeple Farm, and Ben said he would take the tractor up there after lunch at the Manor. ‘By the time Colin gets here I should have the way cleared and you can drive up there.’

  Cy, still looking bewildered, stared at Ben. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said.

  ‘Look, it’s empty. I put the heating on in case the pipes froze, so all that nice warmth is going to waste. Might as well use it, and we’ll all be around if you need anything. I don’t know quite how you’d get to work, but I guess you’d be signed off anyway at the moment.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cy, ‘the doctor at the hospital said I shouldn’t think of going back to work until after Christmas. Shock, more than anything, I suppose.’

  ‘There you are, then. When will Colin get here?’

  ‘Not long. He’s having a police escort so he can get through if there’s a problem with the snow. I suppose I’ll know more then.’

  ‘Right.’ Peter stood up. ‘We’re going up to Ben’s parents for lunch, then Ben will take the tractor to the farm and we’ll come back here. There’s some food Hal’s left in the kitchen for you and Colin. Will you be all right?’

  Hetty, unfazed as usual, welcomed them all in and told them to go straight into the kitchen, where the long table was laid, looking, as Libby said, for all the world as if the Famous Five were about to come in and ask for lashings of ginger beer.

  Greg asked a few questions about Cy, and Hetty asked about Steeple Farm. They both nodded approval when Ben told them of the plan to let them use the farmhouse.

  ‘Where’s Ad?’ said Libby suddenly. ‘I thought he was coming?’

  Harry smote his forehead. ‘Shit!’ he said. ‘Sorry, Het. I forgot. He was over at Creekmarsh and got snowed in. Lewis was down – something about a New Year’s party.’

  ‘So he’s not over there on his own?’

  ‘No, Lewis and Edie are there.’

  Adam and his garden designer boss Mog were under contract to Lewis Osbourne-Walker, who, as his career as a television handyman had taken off, had bought nearby Creekmarsh Place, which he was gradually restoring. His current ambition was to turn it into a wedding and conference venue, but also to hold a music festival there, something that Libby was doubtful about.

  ‘So, is it a private party or a public one?’

  Harry looked puzzled. ‘No idea. Private, I would have thought.’

  ‘I hope it isn’t a trial run for his precious music festival,’ said Libby.

  As soon as lunch was over, Ben left to take the tractor to Steeple Farm and Libby, Peter and Harry helped Hetty to clear up as far as she would allow. Then, they slithered back down the drive to the cottage.

  Cy and Colin were sitting mournfully by the fire, the remains of Harry’s food on a coffee table. Colin jumped up at their entrance.

  ‘I can’t tell you how grateful we are,’ he began, kissing Libby and hugging Harry and Peter.

  ‘No need,’ said Peter. ‘I’m sure Cy’s told you, Steeple Farm could do with being inhabited. Now, come on, tell us what the police have said.’

  They all settled down round the fire and Cy took a deep breath.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘the sergeant who came down questioned me again, but they seem to think someone was trying to scare me off. So it’s not safe for me to go back.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Libby, frowning. ‘Whoever it was knows you weren’t there last night. Surely, they’ve already scared you off.’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ said Colin. ‘They’ve really made a mess of the place, so we wouldn’t be able to stay there until it’s cleaned up, anyway. And they want to do a detailed forensic examination.’

  ‘Do they think all the attacks and the letters are linked?’ Harry asked. ‘Libby still thinks they may not be.’

  ‘Really?’ Colin looked shocked. ‘How could they not be?’

  Libby propounded her theory and watched as Cy and Colin exchanged glances.

  ‘It’s possible,’ said Cy. ‘Someone heard about the first attack and decided to take advantage of it, you mean?’

  ‘The person who had already written the letters, yes.’

  ‘But what about Paddy? He had letters, too.’

  ‘A blind, perhaps?’ suggested Libby. ‘Like Maud Burton!’ She
explained about the anonymous letters that had driven Amy Taylor to suicide. ‘That would explain it.’

  ‘But neither Cy nor Paddy had reported their letters. It would only make sense if they had,’ said Peter.

  ‘They need to find Paddy’s murderers,’ said Libby. ‘That’d sort it out.’

  There was a knock at the door. Harry got up to find Ben on the step.

  ‘Right,’ he said, clapping his arms round himself to warm up. ‘The road’s clear. I’d get up there as soon as possible or it’ll freeze over again. I’ll lead the way in the tractor.’

  ‘Shall we come?’ asked Libby.

  ‘If you do, you’ve got to get back again,’ said Ben. ‘I wouldn’t. I can show them everything they need to know.’

  ‘You stay here, Lib,’ said Peter. ‘I’ll get the sheets.’

  Within a few minutes, Cy and Colin had collected Cy’s belongings, sheets and towels from Peter and said goodbye to Harry, Libby and Peter. Peter shut the door behind them.

  ‘No further forward then,’ said Harry, sitting back down. ‘Does anyone want a drink?’

  ‘Tea would be nice,’ said Libby. ‘I’m not sure whether Ben wants me to stay here then come back and get me, or if I’m supposed to go home.’

  ‘Stay,’ said Peter. ‘He’ll soon ring if he can’t find you.’

  Libby sighed. ‘How miserable for them,’ she said, ‘chucked out of their home just before Christmas, and in this weather, too.’

  Harry came out of the kitchen weaving a teapot. ‘Struck me the police hadn’t told them everything.’

  ‘No. There’s definitely more to this than Cy knows,’ said Peter.

  ‘Why wouldn’t they tell him?’ asked Libby.

  ‘In case he blows it,’ said Peter. ‘He might say something to the wrong person.’

  ‘Well, that’s a comfort,’ said Libby. ‘That means we’re not the wrong people.’

  ‘I expect,’ said Harry, coming out with a tray, ‘that they’re covering their tracks. If they let Cy and Colin go back to their bungalow it’s not so much that there might be another attack – after all, the police will be on the alert – but they’ll disturb all the forensic evidence. And I bet they’ve got a line on the real attacker, whether it’s one or two, so they don’t want to give the game away. And if anything were to happen to Cy, or they missed some important evidence they’d be up on the carpet.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Libby nodded. ‘But I wish I knew what line they’d got.’

  ‘Not your problem, old love,’ warned Peter. ‘Let’s just make sure Cy and Colin stay well and out of harm’s way until the police let them go back. You’ve got so much in the habit of ferreting about that you can’t stop. Just stop it now.’

  ‘I know.’ Libby sighed and took the mug Harry handed her. ‘And I’ve mixed poor old Amy Taylor and Maud Burton up with it all and for no good reason.’

  ‘Yeah, you ought to be locked up,’ grinned Harry, sitting down and lifting his feet onto Peter’s lap, ‘but at least neither of them are alive to be bothered by you.’

  Ben arrived back on foot nearly an hour later looking frozen.

  ‘Why didn’t you go straight home and ring me when you got there?’ said Libby, pushing him into the chair by the fire.

  ‘I took the tractor back and parked it by the Manor,’ he said, accepting a large glass of whisky from Peter. ‘I thought it might be needed if this weather goes on, so it ought to be handy. So I just walked down the drive.’

  ‘Sensible,’ said Peter. ‘Do you want a whisky, Lib?’

  ‘Yes, please. So, Ben, did they say anything while you were with them? Are they settled in? Do they like it there?’

  ‘Whoa!’ Ben held up a hand. ‘Which question first?’

  ‘Are they OK up there?’ asked Harry, ‘that’s what we need to know.’

  ‘They’re fine. Most impressed. Colin was going round marvelling at everything, even when I told him it wasn’t finished. The log burner’s lit, and I helped Colin make up the double bed.’ He took a sip of whisky. ‘And yes, he did say something you might be interested in.’ He looked at the three pairs of eyes fixed on him.

  ‘Go on,’ said Libby.

  ‘Apparently, there was a message on their answerphone.’

  ‘Yes? What? Stop being annoying! Was it a threatening message?’ Libby prodded him impatiently.

  ‘No, it wasn’t threatening. It was from Lisa.’

  ‘Lisa?’ echoed Harry.

  ‘Enquiring after Cy. They’d all heard about the second attack – from Sheila, I would guess – and she was calling to say how sorry she was, and how was he. Also, to tell him that her Aunt Dolly would like to talk to him when he was feeling better.’

  Peter and Harry looked bewildered, while Libby looked stunned.

  ‘And weren’t we saying it would be good to talk to her?’ said Ben.

  ‘Yes, but … good lord, this is odd.’ Libby shook her head, while Ben explained Aunt Dolly to Peter and Harry.

  ‘So what did Cy have to say about that?’ she asked when he’d finished.

  ‘He said: “Why doesn’t Libby talk to her instead?”.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘He doesn’t feel up to it, but he thought you could be his deputy.’

  ‘She won’t talk to a complete stranger,’ said Libby, ‘besides, I’m not likely to be able to get to Maidstone any time soon, not without a police escort like Colin’s anyway.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Ben, with a certain air of triumph. ‘That’s where the long arm of coincidence comes in.’

  ‘Oh, don’t tell me Aunt Dolly lives next door to Flo in Maltby Close,’ groaned Libby.

  ‘Not quite. She does, however, live in one of the New Farm bungalows.’

  ‘No!’ Libby gasped. ‘Now, if this was in a book, you’d never believe it!’

  ‘So, what Cy thought, was if you and Colin popped in to see her, explaining why Cy couldn’t. And just have a chat. See what she wants to talk about.’

  ‘Oh, gawd’elpus,’ said Harry, putting a theatrical hand to his forehead. ‘I wish I’d never started this!’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘DID LISA GIVE COLIN a phone number?’ asked Libby, as she and Ben walked home a little later.

  ‘He’s going to phone her to tell her what Cy’s suggested and ask her. She doesn’t know about the burglary yet.’

  ‘Do we know if it was a burglary?’

  ‘No idea. Colin said he couldn’t see if anything was missing, certainly the television and CD player were still there. So it doesn’t look like a burglary. He said it just looked as though someone had flailed around with a baseball bat.’

  ‘Mindless vandalism, then? Like the mindless mugging?’

  ‘Could be, but it doesn’t make sense. If one of the mindless muggers was behind Cy’s second attack, why draw attention to himself – or themselves – by vandalising the bungalow?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ Libby let out a long breath. ‘Perhaps they were looking for something.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Papers. Birth certificates.’

  ‘Oh, here we go again!’ said Ben. ‘Josephine’s, you mean?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Libby slid him a look. ‘Maybe Aunt Dolly will tell us.’

  ‘And maybe she won’t.’ They stopped in front of number 17. ‘I do wonder what she wants, though. Incredible coincidence, isn’t it?’

  The following morning the roads to the village were just passable. The rest of the county was still suffering, and Libby thanked her lucky stars that she didn’t have to go anywhere. She did worry about Belinda and Dominic, Adam’s sister and brother, being able to get to Steeple Martin for Christmas, but decided that there were still four days to go, and surely things would be back to normal by then.

  Ben brought the Christmas tree in and embedded it in a bucket of earth. Libby and Sidney gazed at it solemnly for a bit, then decided to decorate it. By this time, Christmas cards were hung on ribbons all over the sitt
ing room, and the festive atmosphere was beginning to permeate Libby’s brain. So involved had she been in panto preparations and Cy’s attacks that it had rather crept up on her. Grateful that her present shopping had been all done online, she realised that at some point this week, preferably before Christmas Eve, she was going to have to do The Christmas Shop. If she could get out of the village.

  She was just trying to find a suitable spot for a large red and gold ball that Sidney had his eye on when the phone rang.

  ‘Libby, it’s Colin. I’ve got Auntie Dolly’s telephone number. Shall I call her? When could you go and see her if she says yes?’

  ‘Any daytime,’ said Libby. ‘I’m pantoing in the evenings. By the way, what’s happened to Cinderella?’

  ‘They’re cancelling,’ said Colin gloomily. ‘Without Cy it’s all rather fallen apart. He’s very upset about it. This buggering murderer doesn’t know what chaos he’s caused.’

  ‘What a shame,’ said Libby. ‘But I don’t see how Lisa could have carried on, anyway.’

  ‘I know.’ Colin sighed. ‘Anyway, dear, shall I call Auntie Dolly?’

  ‘Why not? She might have some answers for Cy. Does he really feel he can’t go himself?’

  ‘He’s knackered, darling. Feels absolutely bloody – not just physically, but mentally, too. Very depressed.’

  ‘I can believe it,’ said Libby. ‘OK, then, let me know what’s decided.’

  Sidney was helping remove baubles from the boxes when Libby switched off the phone. She thanked him and sent him packing. By the time the tree was finished, the visit to Aunt Dolly had been arranged for the afternoon, and Colin said he thought he could get the car down to pick Libby up. At two o’clock, Ben waved them off, and Colin’s car slid bravely through the slush of Allhallow’s Lane to New Barton Lane.

  The New Farm bungalows were square and uncompromising, but each of them had been maintained carefully, and although the gardens were currently covered in snow, Libby could see they were well tended. Aunt Dolly had at first demurred, apparently, but had finally been convinced by Colin’s (probably highly dramatic) description of the second attack and the burglary. She had also professed herself highly entertained by the coincidence of them staying in her own village, and had even heard of Libby Sarjeant.