Murder on the Run

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Oh, well, definitely see you, then.’ With a farewell wave, Adam set off behind Sophie and a few others wearing the purple sash of the Nethergate Harriers.

  After most of the onlookers had gone, Guy closed the shop and came back to the cottage to hoover up what was left from lunch.

  ‘Did Sophie say what time she made?’ he asked, through a mouthful of sausage roll.

  ‘No, we hardly saw her,’ said Fran. ‘She and Adam and some of the others went off to look for some of the runners who had fallen by the wayside.’

  ‘I didn’t think they did that,’ said Guy. ‘I’m sure they don’t in the big marathons.’

  ‘I suppose it’s because it’s a relatively small field and they check everyone off,’ said Libby. ‘And Ad was saying how bad the cliff path was. Someof them fell and twisted ankles.’

  ‘It’s not that easy to walk down, let alone run,’ said Fran. ‘I think they should have chosen a different route.’

  Somewhere, a mobile phone began to ring.

  ‘Mine,’ said Fran, and went to find it. ‘Sophie?’

  She listened for a moment, frowning, then looked over at the others. ‘Hold on, I’ll ask Libby and Dad.’

  She cradled the phone in her hand. ‘They can’t find any trace of that Lisa they mentioned. She was seen at the water stop at the top of the cliff path and nothing since. None of the other runners passed her and she never emerged at the bottom. They want to know if they should call the police.’

  ‘Heavens, I don’t know!’ said Libby. ‘Why ask us?’

  ‘She said because we’ve got experience with dealing with the police.’ Fran gave a rueful grin. ‘I suppose we have.’

  ‘But not this sort of experience,’ said Libby. ‘What do you think?’ She turned to Ben.

  ‘I think they should probably wait to see if she turns up at home. And surely it’s the organisers’ problem, not Sophie’s.’

  ‘Sophie’s on the Harriers’committee,’ said Guy, ‘so it probably is her problem.’ He turned to Fran. ‘Tell her what Ben just said.’

  Fran repeated the advice and ended the call. ‘I think she was rather hoping we’d say we would get in touch with Ian,’ she said, as she returned to her chair.

  Detective Chief Inspector Ian Connell was, by now, an old friend who had figured largely in some of the adventures Libby and Fran had stumbled into over the years.

  ‘I thought that,’ said Libby with a grin.

  ‘I’m sure he’d be delighted with a missing persons enquiry,’ said Ben.

  ‘All the same, I wonder what’s happened to her,’ said Guy. ‘You said there were a couple of people who’d failed to turn up. What about the others?’

  ‘She didn’t mention anyone else, so I suppose she’s the only one they can’t find.’

  Later that evening, Sophie and Adam joined them at The Sloop.

  ‘Any news?’ asked Libby as they sat down.

  ‘No.’ Sophie frowned down at the table.

  ‘What about her husband? Hasn’t she come home?’

  ‘She lives on her own. Bishop’s Bottom I think. Or possibly Shott. Anyway, no landline, as far as we know, and her mobile’s switched off.’

  ‘Has someone been to check at her address?’ said Ben. ‘How do you know she hasn’t come home?’

  ‘Another member went to check when they got home,’ said Adam. ‘Not there.’

  ‘What about her car?’ asked Guy. ‘Did she drive over this morning?’

  ‘Still in the car park at the top of Victoria Place,’ said Sophie.

  Libby and Fran exchanged glances.

  ‘In that case, Sophie,’ said Fran, ‘yes. I really think you should inform the police.’

  Sophie turned an imploring faceto her father. ‘Couldn’t you do it, Dad?’

  ‘Not a chance, sweetheart.’ Guy patted her hand. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’ He looked round the table. ‘Or with any of us. You need to tell your chair, or race director or whoever, and they should report it.’

  ‘I thought –’ began Sophie.

  ‘No!’ said four voices together, and Sophie grinned, rather unwillingly.

  ‘Oh, well, it was worth a try.’ She stood up. ‘Come on, Ad. Let’s beard the ogre in his den.’

  ‘Can’t you ring the ogre?’ asked Libby.

  ‘He and some of the committee are eating up the road at the Indian,’ said Adam. ‘We’re supposed to be joining them.’

  ‘Off you go, then,’ said Guy. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Poor kids,’ said Fran as they left. ‘They do look worried.’

  ‘Hardly kids,’ said Ben, ‘although I do find myself wanting to ask Adam why he isn’t wearing a coat sometimes.’

  Libby laughed. ‘I thought that was my job?’

  The following morning Fran served breakfast in her tiny backyard, where Balzac the cat kept a benevolenteye on the kippers, bought as a treat for Ben and Guy.

  ‘Police up at the quay,’ said Guy emerging from the house. ‘Think it’s about that Lisa?’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Fran. ‘I do hope not.’

  ‘So do I, in a way, but if she really is missing, then it’s a good job they’re looking into it.’ Libby picked up her mug of tea. ‘And we’re not.’

  Ben, Guy and Fran looked at her sharply.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Fran.

  Libby shrugged. ‘It’s a good job we aren’t looking into it. That’s all.’

  Ben frowned uneasily. ‘Nothing to look into, surely.’

  ‘Of course there is,’ said Libby. ‘Anyway, I’m sure the kids will tell us when we see them.’

  It was just as Libby and Ben were preparing to leave Coastguard Cottage that Adam and Sophie arrived.

  ‘She’s disappeared,’ said Adam flatly. ‘The police are all over the place.’

  ‘They sent someone over to ask questions last night,’ said Sophie. ‘And they’re coming back this morning.’

  ‘Are they sure she’s properly disappeared?’ said Fran.

  ‘Her car’s still in the car park – or it was. I think they’re taking it away. And she didn’t go home.’ Adam shook his head. ‘I would have thought she might have gone off with someone, but Sophie says not.’

  ‘And the police have given you no idea why they’re convinced she’s missing?’ said Libby.

  ‘No.’ Sophie sank down on the arm of an armchair. ‘I’d forgotten what it was like to be tangledup with something like this.’

  Sophie had been helpful in one of the previous cases in which Libby and Fran had been involved.

  ‘You’re hardly involved with this one, darling.’ Guy patted his daughter on her shoulder.

  ‘Stay out of it as much as possible,’ said Ben. ‘Leave the police to get on with it.’

  ‘Oh, we are,’ said Adam. ‘I’d like to forget all about it.’

  ‘Aren’t you just a bit worried?’ asked Sophie.

  ‘I didn’t know her, did I?’ said Adam reasonably. ‘I’m not sure I even know what shelooks like.’

  ‘I didn’t know her, either, really,’ said Sophie. ‘I don’t think anyone did. She just turned up and ran.’

  ‘Well, it’s nothing to do with you, so I really would try and forget about it,’ said Libby. ‘We all know what police investigations are like and they aren’t pleasant for anybody.’

  ‘I can hardly believe I’m hearing that,’ said Ben. ‘From you of all people.’

  ‘Well, they’re not,’ said Libby, ignoring the laughter. ‘Don’t forget there’s usually tragedy of one sort or another involved.’

  The laughter stopped.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Guy. ‘Let’s remember that and hope the police find Lisa safe and sound.’

  Libby was unusually quiet as she and Ben drove home to Steeple Martin. Eventually, Ben gave her a sideways glance and a tap on the knee. ‘What’s up, Lib?’

  ‘I was just thinking about that poor woman. I do hope nothing’s happened to her.’

  Ben sighed. ‘Loo
k, you were the one who said to stay out of it. Don’t start dwelling on it now.’

  ‘I know.’ Libby shifted in her seat. ‘But we’ve been involved in so many murders now I can’t help feeling that this is one, too.’

  ‘That’s because you’ve been mixed up in them. It’s your default position. But it really is nothing to do with any of us, so just treat it as you would a news report.’

  Libby nodded and returned to a contemplation of the countryside, which soon gave way to the hill that led into the village.

  ‘Where do you suppose they run here?’ she said. ‘There isn’t a circular route to follow.’

  ‘I expect they start at a certain point, turn at another point and run back again,’ said Ben. ‘It’s not a serious thing, is it? Not like yesterday’s.’

  ‘I don’t think that was all that serious,’ said Libby. ‘It was a very short run compared to most. People do more than that every morning, apparently.’

  ‘So I believe,’ said Ben. ‘I can understand people wanting to keep fit …’

  ‘Adam says it can get addictive and give you an adrenalin high. Regular runners actually feel bad if they don’t run every day.’

  ‘Bad?’

  ‘Ill and grumpy.’ She shivered. ‘It all sounds most unpleasant.’

  ‘Let’s hope Ad and Sophie don’t get that addicted, then.’ Ben turned into Allhallow’s Lane. ‘Bugger. I meant to collect Sidney.’

  Sidney often went to stay with Hetty, Ben’s mother, at the Manor, the Wilde family home. Hetty had lived there alone since the death of her husband Greg, although Ben still had the Manor Farm Estate office there and went in most days. It was also next door to the oast house, which had once been a working one. Ben, a former architect, had converted it into a theatre, which he, Libby and Ben’s cousin Peter ran between them.

  ‘We’re going up to lunch, aren’t we?’ said Libby. ‘We can collect him then. I’ll take the cat basket.’

  ‘And I suppose I can carry it back?’ said Ben with some amusement.

  ‘Or,’ said Libby, ignoring him, ‘we could leave him there overnight and go and get him in the morning.’

  ‘Or, I could drop you off, turn round and go and get him now,’ said Ben. ‘Go on, hop out.’

  Libby let herself into number 17 and tripped down the step even though Sidney wasn’t there. The landline was ringing.

  ‘Libby! I tried your mobile number, but you didn’t answer.’

  ‘I was in the car,’ Libby replied cautiously. ‘Is that Campbell?

  ‘Of course it is. You were there, weren’t you?’

  ‘I – what? Where?’

  ‘At the Nethergate 5K. I saw in the list of runners that your son and Fran’s step-daughter were there, so I guessed you would be.’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘What you know about Lisa Harwood’s disappearance, of course! And the poisoned cup.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘Poisoned –? Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, Campbell. Poisoned cup indeed!’

  ‘Well, it was. One of those plastic drinking cups. The stewards were handing out cups of water if anyone wanted one.’

  ‘So?’ Libby’s heart was sinking.

  ‘The police have found one somewhere on the cliff path. At least,’ Campbell hesitated, ‘I think that’s where they found it.’

  ‘And you know how?’

  ‘They’ve issued a missing person alert. I thought you’d know more about it.’

  ‘Why on earth should I?’ Libby found herself growing exasperated, as she often was with Campbell.

  ‘Because you usually do, you and Fran.’

  ‘Well, this time, we don’t,’ said Libby. ‘Yes, I knew Lisa Harwood had not completed the run because some of the other runners went to look for her, but that’s about all.’

  ‘Oh.’ Campbell sounded disappointed. ‘Oh. Well, if you do hear anything …’

  ‘I know,’ said Libby. ‘But I won’t.’

  ‘Won’t hear anything, or won’t tell me?’

  ‘Both,’ said Libby with a grin.

  Campbell chuckled. ‘I should have known. Bye, Libby.’

  Libby’s grin faded as she ended the call. Poisoned cup?She called Fran.

  ‘I’ve just had Campbell on the phone. The police have put out a statement about Lisa Harwood, and he said something about a poisoned plastic cup being found.’

  ‘How did he know that? The police wouldn’t mention that in a statement to the media.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Do you think he was just fishing?’

  ‘He usually is,’ said Fran. ‘You didn’t tell him anything, did you?’

  ‘I never do,’ said Libby. ‘Let me know if you hear anything.’

  Ben appeared, looking flustered and carrying a struggling Sidney, who shot off in a blur of fur as soon as he was put down. Libby repeated Campbell’s phone call.

  Ben frowned. ‘Just trying to stir things up, I should think. You know what he’s like. And where did he get the poisoned cup from?’

  ‘No idea. I thought he might have made it up.’

  ‘Odd thing to make up,’ said Ben. ‘Now I’d better go and change. I seem to have Sidney all over me.’

  Hetty cooked a traditional English Sunday lunch every week, to which Ben, Libby and Peter were bidden regularly. If Harry hadn’t opened the Pink Geranium, he was invited, if Fran and Guy were up for the weekend, they came too, and any of Libby’s, Fran’s or Guy’s offspring were included if they were around. Flo Carpenter, Hetty’s best friend, and Flo’s partner Lenny, Hetty’s brother, occasionally turned up, especially if anything was going on that Flo might be interested in.

  Today, it was only Libby, Ben and Peter.

  ‘So,’ said Hetty, basting potatoes, ‘you ain’t going to look into this missing woman, gal?’

  Peter raised his eyebrows.

  ‘A runner went missing yesterday,’ explained Ben.

  ‘Yes, Adam told us.’ Peter stretched his elegant legs in front of him, neatly crossed at the ankles.

  ‘Oh, he turned up at the caff, did he?’

  ‘Yes. I was merely surprised that you aren’t going to look into it,’ said Peter, looking innocent.

  ‘Oh, stop it.’ Libby laughed. ‘It’s nothing to do with me, is it? Even that blasted television journalist phoned me thinking I’d know all about it.’

  ‘You’ve got a reputation,’ said Peter. ‘Shall I fetch the claret? Or will you make do with my offering?’

  Since Peter’s offering was a very decent Rioja, they all voted for that, although Ben fetched a bottle of claret in case they ran out.

  It was just as Hetty was offering brandy at the end of the meal that Adam came in.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, Hetty,’ he said, ‘but I wanted to see Mum.’

  ‘What’s up, darling?’ Libby was aware of a feeling of foreboding.

  ‘Sophie just rang. They’ve found one of those energy drink shot things.’

  ‘So? Don’t a lot of runners use those?’ said Libby.

  ‘They seem to think it’s important, so –’ Adam began.

  ‘At least it wasn’t a poisoned cup. That’s what that TV reporter told me it was. I hoped it wasn’t true. How does Sophie know?’

  ‘It was one of the running club who found it. They all went out looking again this morning.’

  ‘I bet the police were pleased with them tramping over the scene,’ said Libby.

  ‘It’s not exactly the scene,’ said Adam. ‘They don’t know where that was, do they.’

  ‘Where was it, then?’ asked Peter.

  ‘On the cliff side, but away from the path, apparently.’

  ‘And how did he know it was Lisa’s?’ asked Libby.

  ‘He didn’t. He just picked it up because it was the sort of drink that had been given out. He gave it to the police and I suppose they’ll do some tests on it.’

  ‘I wonder how Campbell knew?’ mused Libby.

  ‘At a guess, he was pr
obably hanging around just to see what he could pick up,’ said Ben.

  ‘Hmm.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think he’s supposed to know. This isn’t general knowledge, and if the can, or bottle or whatever it was, was only found this morning, they couldn’t have analysed it before they sent out the statement to the media.’

  Ben and Peter were frowning. Hetty gave a deep sigh.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked a bewildered Adam.

  ‘She’s starting again,’ said Peter. ‘Look at her face.’

  Everyone looked at Libby’s face, which began to turn a delicate pink. ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Just don’t, Lib,’ said Ben. ‘Remember? It’s nothing to do with us, and you were never going to get involved again.’

  ‘I wasn’t!’ Libby sounded indignant.

  Her phone began to ring.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, looking at the screen. ‘It’s Fran.’ She stood up and walked out into the hall.

  ‘Libby? Ian’s just been to speak to me.’

  ‘Ian? Why?’

  ‘He’s been put on to the Lisa Harwood case. He saw Adam’s and Sophie’s names on the list of runners and came to ask me if I knew anything about it.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told him exactly what happened yesterday, and what Ad and Sophie had told us.’

  ‘Did you tell him about Campbell?’

  ‘No, should I have?’

  ‘Adam just arrived here at Hetty’s –’

  ‘Oh!’ said Fran, ‘I forgot. Did I interrupt lunch?’

  ‘No, we’d finished. But Ad said Sophie phoned him to tell him a similar story.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound right,’ said Fran. ‘How would he have known?’

  ‘Exactly what I said.’ Libby beamed in triumph. ‘And they all had a go at me about getting involved.’

  ‘Well, they would. To save you the embarrassment, I shall call Ian now and tell him. It just may be relevant.’

  Libby went back into the kitchen.

  ‘Ian’s been put in charge of the case,’ she informed the others casually, ‘and he’s just been to see Fran.’

  A collective groan went up from those gathered around the table.

  ‘It was because he saw your name and Sophie’s on the list of runners,’ Libby said to Adam. ‘I think he leapt to the same conclusion that Campbell did – we must know something about it.’ She sighed. ‘And we don’t. All the same, I could bear to know how anyone – runner, police or TV reporter – knew that drink was relevant.’