‘I think we ought to help Hetty clear the table and let her have a rest,’ said Libby diplomatically. ‘She won’t want us sitting round her table holding her up.’
Hetty stood up. ‘Come on, then. Just get the plates in the dishwasher. I’ll do the pots meself.’
When the big kitchen was suitably tidied, Peter, Adam, Ben and Libby said their farewells and left Hetty, Flo and Lenny sitting round the fire in the drawing room.
‘Come back to ours,’ said Peter. ‘Hal should be back by now. Coming, Adam?’
‘Thanks, but I’m going out later. I’ll call you, Ma. I need to know about Johnny.’
‘He’s OK. They’re going to let him go,’ said Libby. ‘But he’s still got questions to answer. Not directly about the murders, though.’
Adam looked relieved. He kissed Libby’s cheek and loped off to the flat above The Pink Geranium.
Harry had already prepared his drinks tray when Peter let them in to the cottage. Libby slumped in her favourite chair and accepted a whisky.
‘Sunday seems to be a day of drink after drink,’ she said sipping appreciatively.
‘Come on, then, what’s going on,’ said Harry, sitting beside Peter on the sofa and swinging his legs onto his partner’s lap. ‘I need to know.’
Libby related everything that had happened that day. ‘So as far as I can make out, Ian’s now following a trail that someone was out to – oh, I don’t know – con people into thinking they had a hoard of Napoleonic gold in their house.’
‘Why?’ Harry looked puzzled.
‘To gain access for burglary?’ suggested Ben. ‘That would be the most obvious thing.’
‘But they were looking into a civil war hoard,’ said Libby. ‘I know we only got that from Edward, who now seems to be a most suspicious character, but the Rev. Toby confirmed it when he told us Ramani went in looking for Sir Godfrey’s tomb.’
‘This credit card business,’ said Peter thoughtfully. ‘How much do you think Templeton was involved?’
‘I don’t think he was, really. I think someone borrowed his identity to get a card and have a delivery address for the stationery,’ said Libby.
‘In that case, he must have had some knowledge of it.’
‘Because of the stuff being delivered?’
‘Yes. And who would know enough about him to get the credit card?’
‘We don’t know, do we?’ said Libby. ‘We don’t know anything about his social circle. He doesn’t drink in The Dragon, but I bet he’s known in The Feathers.’
‘The Feathers?’ said Harry.
‘The pub in Keeper’s Cob. It’s a dive. Lewis said not to go near it, but Fran and I did go in there a couple of weeks ago when we got lost. The tunnel that leads away from Dark House under the grotto goes to Keeper’s Cob, which borders the end of the estate, and we’ve made the assumption it comes up to the pub.’
‘So if Templeton drinks in there he’s likely to have fairly unsavoury connections?’ said Peter.
‘You’re making a lot of assumptions here,’ said Ben.
‘I know.’ Libby sighed. ‘We can’t really know, can we?’
‘And this letter. You think it was sent to the Watsons?’ said Peter.
‘That’s what I think,’ said Libby. ‘And it makes sense. If Roland received that letter, he would immediately want to look for it. And, depending on whether he’d already started his affair with Ramani, he would either use the knowledge to tempt her or ask for her help.’
‘Why did she go and look for that tomb, though, or whatever it was?’ asked Harry.
‘And why did she tell Edward there was Civil War treasure buried there? And when?’ said Peter.
‘Golly,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t know.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘I assume it must have been not long before she died, or Edward would have got in touch before.’
‘You are the only person I know who says “Golly”,’ said Harry. ‘I feel I ought to be serving you lashings of ginger beer.’
‘Did you know she never actually wrote that?’ said Libby. ‘It was from Five Go Mad In Dorset, the Comic Strip film.’
‘Was it?’ Harry turned to Peter. ‘Have I seen that?’
Peter patted his arm. ‘I’ll find it on DVD for you. You’ll love it.’
‘This is all speculation,’ said Ben.
‘About the Famous Five?’ said Libby.
‘About Edward, Templeton and everything else. You don’t actually know anything.’
‘No, I know.’ Libby sighed. ‘But all this has put a whole new slant on things. I really wish I could talk to Edward, now. I need to know if he’s trustworthy, or a criminal.’
‘Tell you what,’ said Harry, swinging his legs off Peter’s lap. ‘Why don’t we ask him here this evening?’
‘What?’ said three voices together.
‘I could do a little snacky supper. We could be saving him from another lonely evening in the pub. If he accepts, it probably means he’s kosher. If he doesn’t – well.’
‘Or, if he’s been hauled off to the nick,’ said Ben with a grin.
‘What do you think, Pete?’ said Libby. ‘It’s your house, and your evening off with Hal.’
Peter shrugged. ‘I’m fine with it. If Hal wants to get back in the kitchen on his night off.’
‘I’ve got another night off tomorrow.’ Harry beamed. ‘Go on, Lib. Ring him.’
‘Ian might still be with him,’ demurred Libby.
‘Send him a text, then,’ said Ben.
Libby laboriously sent a text to Edward’s number, and put the phone on the coffee table.
‘Well, now we wait,’ said Peter.
‘And if we don’t hear in the next – what? Hour?’ said Harry.
‘We’ll go home and normal service will be resumed,’ said Ben.
‘Meanwhile, you can carry on dicussing who might be the murderer,’ said Peter. ‘Tell us more about the enigmatic Mrs Fairbrass, Lib.’
‘I must say, it came as a bit of a surprise. She’s not exactly a housekeeper and turns out to be the beneficiary of the last owner of Dark House.’
‘And knew all about the supposed treasure,’ said Harry. ‘I told Peter all about it this morning before he went up to The Manor.’
‘Well, I did recap for the benefit of Hetty, Flo and Lenny,’ said Libby. ‘It’s that document I’m worried about now.’
‘Andrew’s got it, didn’t you say?’ said Ben.
‘Yes. Ian called him and he said Edward had left it with him.’
‘That doesn’t sound as though he’s a crook, does it?’ said Harry. ‘And I liked him, anyway.’
‘Just as well,’ said Libby, as her phone told her there was a message. She read it and grinned. ‘Because Edward’s looking forward to coming here this evening!’
Chapter Thirty-three
Libby and Ben decided to go home, have a cup of tea and possibly a nap before what could be an interesting evening. Harry had pressed them to stay, offering more whisky, but, as Libby said, if they were all as drunk as skunks by the time Edward arrived at seven thirty it rather negated the purpose of the evening.
Accordingly, the four of them gathered at seven fifteen feeling less sleepy than they might have done. Libby and Ben handed over two bottles of wine, and Peter handed them glasses of red.
At exactly seven thirty, Edward arrived.
‘This is lovely,’ he said looking round. ‘Love the fire.’
‘Ours is a proper one,’ said Harry. ‘Not like Libby’s piddling little Victorian one.’
Edward laughed. ‘But at least it’s a real fire.’
‘Sit down,’ said Peter, ‘and tell us how your interview with DCI Connell went.’
Libby frowned at him, but Peter was unabashed.
‘Edward will know we want to know. He could hardly not.’
Edward sighed and leant forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. ‘Of course you want to know. And you’ll have quite a few questions for me. Haven’t you, Libby
?’
Libby nodded. ‘Ian left me feeling deeply suspicious of you earlier today. And I must say I felt a bit mortified, having introduced you and – ’
‘Allowed me into Libby’s Loonies,’ interrrupted Edward, with a small smile. ‘I know. But it really wasn’t like that.’
‘So what was it like? Come on, Edward – full story. When did Ramani get in touch with you and what exactly did she say?’
Edward sighed. ‘I’ve been all through this with your inspector already, so at least I know the answers. The first time she mentioned the house and the possibility of treasure was when she was up in town and I managed to get down to see her. This would have been – oh, a year ago. I wasn’t particularly interested. She didn’t say anything about the Watsons. Then, about six weeks ago, she told me she’d found out that it could possibly be connected with the civil wars. That did interest me. So I asked if I could come down and have a look at the house. She was very evasive.’
‘Did she say anything about the Watsons this time?’ asked Libby.
‘Not a lot. I have to say, I almost thought that she’d made up the civil war connection to get me interested. Anyway, I kept trying to get hold of her, and she’d return the odd text, but then went silent. So I came down. I knew where she lived, and I had actually met Carl some time ago in Leicester.’
‘Didn’t you feel awkward about seeing him, knowing you’d continued a relationship with his wife?’
‘I did, a bit.’ Edward lowered his eyes.
‘So you arrived and knew nothing about Ramani’s death?’ said Ben.
Edward nodded. ‘I arrived on the doorstep as the police were leaving and they swept me off to the police station in Canterbury. And that’s it, really.’
‘When she first mentioned treasure, did she say anything about the Napoleonic wars or the gold?’ asked Libby.
‘She said something about smuggling, but that was all. I got the impression she rather dismissed the story.’
‘So what do you think happened?’
‘I don’t know. I wanted to look into it, so I stayed around. There was honestly nothing underhand about it. Your inspector seems to think I knew something about what was going on – perhaps even involved with some sort of scam.’
‘Yes. Because of the fake Institute and your sudden appearance on the scene,’ said Libby. ‘I didn’t entirely trust you, either.’
‘Do you now?’
‘I think so.’ Libby smiled. ‘As long as you’ve told us everything now. Mind you, it didn’t amount to much more than we knew already.’
‘Except that Ramani had told you about treasure a year ago and mentioned smugglers,’ said Peter.
‘That will have interested Cuddly Connell,’ said Harry.
‘Who?’ Edward looked bewildered.
‘The chief inspector,’ said Peter. ‘I think he is rather suspicious, and thinks you may well have known the story of the guinea boats before arriving here. Did he tell you what they found – when, Lib? Yesterday?’
‘I assume so.’ She looked at Edward. ‘Did he?’
‘Did he what?’
‘Tell you what the police found yesterday?’
‘No? I have no idea what you’re talking about. He asked me a lot of questions that seemed to relate to this fake institute, and if I studied that period.’ Libby thought she saw that faint flush on Edward’s dark cheeks. ‘In fact, he almost seemed not to believe I’m a historian. He said he’d been in touch with the university.’
‘Yes, he told me that,’ said Libby. ‘And had you studied that period?’
‘How do you imagine one becomes a history lecturer?’ Edward’s tone became peremptory. ‘I have an Honours Degree, a Master’s and a doctorate. The eighteenth and nineteenth centuries haven’t been my particular interest, but of course I’ve studied them. I wasn’t aware of the guinea boats, I have to say, nor did I know about the escape routes of the French prisoners. They are small areas of special interest.’
‘Well,’ said Harry. ‘That told us.’
‘Sorry.’ Edward looked anything but repentant.
‘Edward,’ said Ben gently, ‘do you know anything about architecture?’
‘Architecture? Well – a bit. When it’s Tudor.’
‘And do you know how long it takes to become an architect?’
‘No …’
‘Seven years. Five at university and two under the direct supervision of a qualified architect.’
Edward was looking at him warily. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘So we don’t really want your academic credentials. Just a simple answer would have done.’
Edward seemed to collapse into his chair. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ He looked at Libby. ‘It’s the “me, me, me” syndrome again, isn’t it?’
‘As long as you recognise it.’ Libby patted his arm. ‘Now. Get off your high horse and try and help us with sorting out this mess. What you don’t know is that Johnny Templeton was arrested and stationery with the institute’s heading found in his cottage. And it was purchased with a credit card in his name. So I expect Ian was trying to find out if you’d had any contact with him.’
‘He did mention the name. Who is he?’
‘You must have heard us mention him,’ said Libby. ‘He’s the person who found Ramani’s body.’ She went on to explain about the form letter and the theory that one had been sent to the Watsons which piqued Roland’s interest.
‘When was that?’ Edward frowned. ‘Only, as I said, Ramani mentioned smugglers to me a year ago.’
‘I didn’t ask!’ said Libby. ‘Oh, how silly!’
‘That fragment of envelope you found. Did it look old?’ asked Peter.
‘Well it wasn’t brand new. And it was stuck in the back of a drawer, so it hadn’t been put there recently.’
‘Unless it was purposely hidden,’ said Ben.
‘But from whom? I thought it was one of Adelaide’s drawers, but we think the letter was sent to Roland, don’t we?’
‘And didn’t she say she didn’t know nuffink about anyfink?’ said Harry, getting up. ‘Another drink, anyone? And I’ll get me little dainties out of the oven.’
While Harry bustled about being a host, the rest of them tried to make sense of a situation they really knew nothing about.
‘Ian says Johnny won’t say who told him to store the stationery,’ said Libby.
‘It sounds too clever to be a ruffian from The Feathers,’ said Peter.
‘Ooh, what a lovely word, “ruffian”,’ said Harry, bringing in a tray of food and ruffling Peter’s hair on the way back to the kitchen.
‘So, some devious character who we’ve never heard of,’ said Libby gloomily. ‘And why, anyway? Why tell Roland he might have a hoard of guineas hidden in his house?’
‘Why tell anyone, frankly?’ said Ben. ‘Unless you really thought there was a hoard.’
‘And why alert the owners if you wanted to nick it?’ said Harry, pouring wine all round.
They all looked at each other. Edward shook his head slowly. ‘None of it makes any sense,’ he said.
‘Let’s go back to the civil wars,’ said Peter, ten minutes later, when they’d all partaken of Harry’s dainties. ‘Could the letters be to allow someone to search the houses and then regretfully say they’d been mistaken, while actually looking for a civil war treasure?’
Everyone looked at Edward.
‘Don’t look at me,’ he said in alarm. ‘It wasn’t me!’
‘No, but could that be a reason?’ said Libby. ‘It sounds quite likely to me.’
‘I suppose so, but it seems like an inordinate amount of trouble to go to,’ said Edward. ‘All the expense of printing fake letters, not to mention Templeton’s credit card, just to search a house?’
‘And why couldn’t you go to an owner and say “ʼEre, mate, I reckon you’ve got some old treasure, can I look for it?” They’d be only too happy, wouldn’t they?’ said Harry.
‘Not if you planned to steal it,’ said
Peter. ‘And listen. If you said a hoard of guineas, that would belong to the Crown because it was stolen from the Crown in the first place – more or less – so the owner wouldn’t be so keen to interfere. If you said it was something buried by a former owner it could well be a different matter.’
‘That’s true, but you’d have to be absolutely certain there really was something to find,’ said Ben.
‘But that’s what Ramani was doing,’ said Libby excitedly. ‘Looking into the Civil War treasure. She went to the church, didn’t she?’
‘So we’re back where we started,’ said Edward. ‘A war treasure hidden by Sir Godfrey Wyghtham. Which we haven’t found.’
‘Except for the ring and the cross you found in the chimney in the attic,’ said Libby.
‘And back to wondering who also knew and killed both Ramani and Roland for it.’ said Edward. He looked round the room. ‘And it wasn’t me.’
‘The other person who knew, possibly, was your new friend Mrs Fairbrass,’ said Harry.
‘She says she didn’t believe in the treasure. It was Lady Middleton and her daughter who did,’ said Libby.
‘And what was it happened to the daughter?’ asked Ben.
‘She fell into the grotto and was killed. Years ago.’
The sudden silence meant that everybody had the same idea at once.
‘She found it!’ said Harry, voicing the one thought.
‘If she did,’ said Libby carefully, ‘why wasn’t it found with her body?’
‘Because whoever discovered her body made away with it,’ said Peter. ‘Does that make sense?’
‘Except that the grotto wasn’t built until two hundred years after the civil wars,’ said Libby.
‘But the tunnels weren’t,’ said Edward, beginning to look interested. ‘They were only bricked up in the late nineteenth.’
‘Were they bricked up when the grotto was built, do you think?’ mused Libby. ‘And if Godfrey’s treasure – assuming that was what was hidden – was there when that was done, why didn’t the Victorians find it?’
‘That’s true. Or – the daughter could have discovered the hiding place, not necessarily the treasure,’ said Edward.
Murder in the Dark - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series) Page 24
