The other women were watching her with open mouths.
‘Very good, Reverend.’ Ian’s amused voice broke the spell. ‘Yes, sorry,’ he said, as Patti looked round embarrassed, ‘we were all spellbound.’
‘It’s clever though, Ian,’ said Ben.
‘It is, and very much what we’ve thought out ourselves, except that we’re all hoping that neither the elderly owner nor young Roly – why does everyone call him “young Roly”? –have been – er – bumped off.’
Patti’s cheeks had turned a delicate shade of pink. ‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘What for?’ Ian grinned at her. ‘It was a logical piece of thinking, and I shall be very surprised if we don’t find that the truth is along those lines. We just have to find the person who let Lisa Harwood have the cottage.’
‘So we assume that this person was also aware of the heart defect?’ said Libby.
‘You can assume what you like, Lib.’
‘Sorry,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll keep out of it.’
‘Don’t get huffy, petal.’ Harry leant across the table and patted her hand. ‘Just because your mate figured it out and you didn’t –’
‘I wasn’t!’ Libby was horrified, and felt colour burning up her neck and into her face. ‘Oh, God, I wasn’t!’She looked at Patti. ‘Oh, God, Patti, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying Oh, God …’
Libby subsided because everyone was laughing.
‘It’s Harry who should be sorry,’ said Patti, standing up and coming round to kiss Libby and give her a hug.
‘Sorry, petal,’ said an unrepentant Harry, with a grin. ‘Now, who wants another drink?’
Chapter Twenty-six
A rather subdued Libby spent Thursday morning finishing a couple of small sketches for Guy, and loading them and the painting finished last week into the silver bullet ready to take to Nethergate. On the way, she planned to call in on Farthing’s Plants and see if Mike had heard anything in the village.
However, when she arrived she was surprised to see her cousin Cassandra’s car parked on the forecourt. Cass-andra herself she found in one of the huge greenhouses, wielding a small paintbrush.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Libby, peering across the bench.
‘Don’t breathe,’ whispered Cass, ‘or you’ll blow the pollen off.’
Libby watched, fascinated, as Cassandra carefully transferred pollen on the tip of the brush to another bloom, then covered that with a small paper bag.
‘Breeding,’ Cass said succinctly. ‘Never quite sure what will emerge, but always a great surprise and sense of achievement. What can I do for you, Lib? Did you come to see Mike?’
‘Yes, I just wondered if he’d heard anything in the village about our latest murder.’
Cass looked amused as she pulled off her plastic gloves. ‘Yes, he said you were in here last week. How you do fall over murders, little coz.’
‘Not my fault,’ said Libby, ‘and we aren’t involved really.’
‘I bet.’ Cass put away her tools. ‘Do you want coffee? Or tea? I’ve got both in the office.’
‘I won’t if you don’t mind, Cass. I’m on my way to deliver a couple of pictures to Guy. I don’t know, sometimes I feel like a production line.’
‘OK, but come in anyway, Mike’s in there going cross-eyed over spreadsheets.’
Mike looked up gratefully when they walked in to the office.
‘Libby! Staying for coffee?’
‘No, she’s delivering paintings,’ said Cass. ‘She just wanted to know if you’d heard anything in the village about the murder.’
Mike stood up and came round the counter.
‘There was a lot of talk about it in The Poacher at the weekend. No one seems to know anything about the owner.’
‘Oh, we know that, now,’ said Libby. ‘Only she’s disappeared, too.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I don’t suppose I should have told you that.’
‘Probably not.’ Cass tucked an escaping grey lock behind her ear. Tall and patrician-looking, she appeared for all the world like the headmistress of a rather up-market school – which, in fact, she had been. ‘Who is she, then?’
Deciding that it was a matter of record, Libby recounted the story of the Hays family, the Harrises and Rowena Samuels. She didn’t mention Faith Conway.
‘Well,’ said Cass when she’d finished. ‘Looks as though someone was doing something at Chestnut Cottage that they shouldn’t and put this Samuels woman out of the way.’
‘That sounds very cold-blooded,’ said Libby.
Cass shrugged. ‘Cold-blooded thing to do.’
‘Yes.’ Libby hitched her bag onto her shoulder and began to turn to the door. ‘Oh – and you know you told me a young man used to run with Lisa? Well – he’s disappeared, too.’
‘Really?’ Mike’s shaggy eyebrows shot up. ‘When was that?’
Libby frowned. ‘Last seen on Saturday afternoon. By me. Why?’
‘Oh, I’ve seen him since then,’ said Mike.
‘What? When? Where?’ said Libby.
‘Um …’ Mike drew his brows together. ‘Tuesday, it must have been. I thought it was odd. I was down at the bottom of the field, where it backs on to the Notbourne land, you know? I keep the compost bins down there. Anyway, I saw him in the field. Running along the hedgeline. That’s how I recognised him – because he was running.’
‘You’re sure?’ gasped Libby, reaching for her phone.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ said Mike, eyeing her phone suspiciously. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Telling the police of course,’ said Cass with some asperity. ‘This is presumably an official missing person, right, Lib?’
Libby nodded, by now already speaking into her phone.
‘I know, I know, Ian, and I’m really sorry to disturb you, but I’ve got news about Roly Johnson.’
‘This had better be good.’ Ian did not sound as though he was in a very good mood. He also sounded as though he was outside in a high wind.
‘You remember Mike Farthing, of Farthing’s Plants?’
‘Yes, yes. Get on with it.’
‘He saw Roly on Tuesday in the field backing onto his property.’
‘Alive?’
‘Yes, running. Along the hedgeline.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘At Mike’s. I came over to see Cass.’ Libby crossed her fingers and grinned at Mike and Cass. ‘I was on my way to Guy’s to –’
‘All right. Stay there. I’ll be with you shortly. Five minutes.’
‘Five –where are you?’
‘Maple Cottage.’ Ian ended the call.
‘Well!’ said Libby. ‘Ian’s on his way.’
Mike looked uncomfortable. ‘Oh.’
‘Look, I know you had a bad experience with the police, but it was all sorted out, wasn’t it? Ian will be really grateful, honestly.’
However, when he arrived, followed by a squad car, he didn’t look grateful.
‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he muttered to Libby as he strode past her. ‘Mr Farthing. Thank you for this information. Now, could you take me to where you saw Mr Johnson?’
‘Roly,’ put in Libby.
‘Roly,’ repeated Ian, sounding as though he was building up a nice head of steam.
Mike led the way out of the office, followed by Ian and two uniformed officers, while Cass and Libby kept a safe distance behind.
At the bottom of the field behind the greenhouses stood the three huge compost bins. Libby wrinkled her nose.
‘It doesn’t smell,’ said Cassandra. ‘You’re imagining it.’
‘Really?’ Libby looked doubtful.
‘If it smells, you’re doing something wrong.Go on, have a sniff.’
Libby sniffed. Nothing assaulted her nostrils other thana whiff of far-away cows.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised, but you’re right. What are they doing?’
Cassandra peered across at the four men, not being challenged, as Lib
by was, in the height department.
‘I think one of the officers is trying to climb into the field. Your Ian is talking into his phone and Mike – well, Mike’s just looking miserable.’
At that moment, Mike turned and shambled back to them.
‘I’m not sure they believe me.’
‘Yes, they do,’ said Libby. ‘Look, that officer’s got over the hedge now. And Ian will be summoning reinforcements.’
‘Come on,’ said Cassandra. ‘Back to the office. We might as well have that coffee now.’
‘I ought to get on to Nethergate,’ said Libby, torn between not wanting to risk Ian’s wrath and wanting to know what was going on.
‘The DCI will want you to stay, I should think,’ said Cass.
‘Oh. Well, OK then.’ Libby followed Mike and Cassandra into the office and perched on the visitor’s chair. Cass had just poured them all coffee when Ian came in.
‘Libby, you don’t have to stay, you know.’ He passed a hand over his face.
‘We didn’t know –’ began Cass.
‘No, of course. This came as a bit of a surprise.’Ian looked hopefully at the coffee machine in the corner. Cass held up a mug in enquiry and he nodded gratefully.
‘I nearly didn’t mention it,’ said Libby suddenly.
‘Mention what?’ said Ian, accepting his coffee mug.
‘Roly. I was just leaving, and I turned round to mention that he was missing, because Mike told me last week that he used to see Lisa and Roly running together. You remember? When we told you about Lisa and the tubs?’
Ian nodded. ‘That was lucky. We’ve got a team inside Chestnut Cottage and a team in the garden, but we haven’t found your tubs,’ he said to Mike. ‘Which is very odd.’
Mike frowned. ‘But they were huge.’
‘Yes. Anyway, we’re now looking at Maple Cottage just further up the lane, and I’ll have to get back there soon. When backup arrives here, I’ll go.’ He took a mouthful of coffee. ‘I’m very grateful, Mr Farthing – and Mrs –’
‘Just call me Cass,’ said Cass. ‘But it’s Libby you should be grateful to.’
‘I know.’ He gave Libby a tired smile. ‘I am.’
Libby beamed.
‘I’d better get off to deliver my paintings,’ she said, and stood up. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Cass. I’ll see you soon. Why don’t we all go to the caff one evening? Haven’t seen you socially for ages.’
They both smiled and agreed, while Ian held the door of the office open for her.
‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ he said.
‘It’s only a couple of yards,’ said Libby.
‘I know, but I needed to say something that I didn’t want Mike and Cass to hear.’
‘You were very formal towards them in there.’
‘Because they – or Mike, at any rate – is a witness. Now, did you see anything more of Mrs Conway yesterday evening after I left?’
‘Not properly. We looked into the other bar to say goodnight, that was it.’
‘And she and Professor Wylie were still there?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Libby was surprised. ‘Why?’
‘Just checking. The reason we’re starting to go over Maple Cottage is that someone reported seeing a light in there last night.
‘Who reported the light?’
‘A shift worker from the hospital coming home. He lives just beyond Maple Cottage and says it’s been locked up for years.’
‘As Chestnut was,’ said Libby.
‘Yes. So is it the same someone who tidied up Chestnut and let Lisa Harwood use it who is now using Maple Cottage?’
‘Odd that a light was seen,’ said Libby with a frown. ‘The electricity would have been switched off for ages, wouldn’t it?’
‘A torch, probably.’
‘So that was why you asked about Faith?’ said Libby. ‘In case it was her over there? What time was this light seen?’
‘About two o’clock,’ said Ian.
‘Well, then, she could have gone over there after the pub closed. Except that she doesn’t know her way, and it would have been pitch black. No street lighting in Itching and Shott.’
Ian nodded slowly. ‘Don’t say anything, will you? I’ll be over to see her later this afternoon.’
‘Can I tell Fran?’
Ian patted her shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
Libby turned the silver bullet round very carefully, avoiding Ian’s sleek saloon, the squad car and Cass’s sensible vehicle. She drove to Nethergate, her mind going over all the surprising things she’d been told in the last hour or so. When she arrived in Harbour Street, she was gratified to find a parking space close to the shop.
‘Libby?’ Guy looked up in surprise. ‘Is Fran expecting you?’
‘No, I’ve brought you that painting I mentioned and a couple of sketches. Shall I fetch them in?’
‘I’ll give Fran a ring and let her know you’re here.’
Libby went back to the car and collected the pieces. She was met at the door of the shop by Fran, also looking surprised.
‘You didn’t say anything about coming over today?’ she said, holding the door open.
‘No, but I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I’m really glad I did.’
‘Oh, why?’
Guy took the painting and the sketches and propped them up behind the counter.
‘Nice,’ he said. ‘The sketches are a bit different. We’ll see how they go, shall we?’
‘Yes, thanks,’ said Libby.
‘Now,’ said Fran. ‘Stop getting distracted and tell us what’s happened.’
Libby recounted her visit to Mike and Cass and how she’d nearly missed the news about Roly.
‘Just think if you hadn’t thought to mention it,’ said Fran.
‘I know. But even stranger than that, when Ian came over …’ She told them about the search of Maple Cottage and the light seen inside.
‘Roly?’ suggested Guy.
‘It would make sense, I suppose,’ said Libby. ‘I’m just surprised that he’s stayed so close to home. If he was that scared of someone, wouldn’t he have gone a long way away?’
‘Shall I make us some tea?’ asked Guy.
‘No, thanks,’ said Libby. ‘I’m awash with Cass’s strong coffee.’ She turned to Fran. ‘You know, Ian was really grateful today. Do you think he might keep us up to date now?’
Half an hour later, Libby was driving back into Steeple Martin. She had just come down the hill when she trod sharply on the brake. Outside the pub was a squad car and Ian’s saloon. And the blue lights were flashing.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Checking traffic, Libby pulled in to the Manor drive and switched off the engine. She didn’t know whether to go into the pub or not. After all, Ian might be after someone else – it might have nothing to do with Faith. But then again …
She got out of the car and trotted down to The Pink Geranium. Harry was standing by the door peering out.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked, when he opened the door.
‘No idea. The squad car arrived and a minute later Ian did. Must be something to do with that Faith, mustn’t it?’
‘I assume so, especially after …’ she trailed off. ‘Well, I had a bit of a surprise this afternoon.’
‘Go on.’ Harry leant against the door frame, arms folded.
Libby told him of her surprising afternoon.
‘And Ian was going off to the other cottage,’ she finished.
‘So you think they found something pointing to Faith as the murderer then?’
‘I don’t know. How could she be?’
Harry shrugged. ‘Have to wait and see, won’t we? But I don’t think you’d better go barging in there now.’
‘No.’ Libby nodded reluctantly. ‘I’d better go home. Or into the eight-til-late, at any rate. I think I’ve forgotten dinner again.’
It was as Libby was returning to the car after provisioning herself from
the eight-til-late and Nella and Joe’s Cattlegreen Nursery shop that she heard someone calling her name.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Ian.
Libby raised her eyebrows. ‘I live here. What are you doing here?’
‘I wondered why you were walking towards the drive.’
Libby held up her two shopping bags. ‘Dinner. I stopped on the way home from Fran’s.’
‘And what did Fran have to say about the revelations of earlier today?’
Libby scowled at him. ‘Surprised. What do you expect? Can I go now?’
Ian sighed and stepped back. ‘Sorry. And you haven’t even asked me a question.’
‘I did. I said “What are you doing here?” And you didn’t answer.’
‘I was speaking to Mrs Conway.’
‘Why the squad car?’
‘Look, if you want to know, come back to the pub and I’ll explain.’
Libby gaped. ‘You’ll what?’
Ian took her elbow. ‘Come on.’
‘What about my food?’
Ian gave her a look.
In the pub, she was unsurprised to be led to the rear of the entrance hall and into the manager’s office.
‘He’s letting me use it while I’m here,’ said Ian, settling himself behind the desk.
‘All right, stop being mysterious and tell me just why you’re here,’ said Libby. ‘Is it Faith?’
Ian looked down at his hands clasped together on the desk.
‘You remember we were going over Maple Cottage when I saw you at Mike Farthing’s place?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m afraid we made a rather unpleasant discovery.’
Libby felt the same rush of adrenalin that comes from a near miss in a car.
‘We found what we believe to be Rowena Samuels.’
Libby swallowed. ‘You believe?’
‘We had no idea what she looked like. We had to ask Mrs Conway.’
Libby looked horrified. ‘But …?’
‘It’s all right – it wasn’t horrific. Mrs Samuels had been kept in a freezer.’
Now Libby felt the blood drain from her face.
‘So Patti was right,’ she whispered.
‘Not quite. Young Roly appears to be still around, if Farthing is to be believed.’
‘It isn’t him,’ said Libby instantly.
Murder on the Run Page 18
