Murder on the Run

by Lesley Cookman

  They found somewhere towards the centre of town, and picked a table outside. Libby went in to order coffee, while Andrew sat outside with his list of phone numbers. By the time she returned, he was talking animatedly into the phone.

  ‘Yes, of course. I took some pictures. No, you wouldn’t be able to take any of them away. No, I haven’t told Mrs Conway. Libby’s here with me, though. She saw them, too.’ He paused, listening, and smiled at Libby. ‘I know, but she thought I ought to tell you too, even though she’s dying to find those tunnels herself. No, I’ll tell her.’ He paused again, then nodded. ‘Right. We’ll wait to hear from you.’

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Libby. ‘Was he annoyed at me being here?’

  ‘Amused, I think. But in general, rather pleased. He’s getting a warrant to search the grounds.’

  ‘Goodness! I wonder if Roly’s been hiding in the tunnels?’

  Andrew frowned. ‘Didn’t you say he was frightened of someone? If that someone was the person who killed your first body, and she was involved in sex parties, it’s quite likely the tunnels are still in use – that’s what you think, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes – oh, I see. So Roly wouldn’t hide there. No, not if he knows what’s been going on – and he told me he did.’

  ‘Well, now, I don’t think there’s anything more you or I can do except to wait until the police have searched the tunnels. If they’re still there.’

  ‘No. I’m surprised, if they are still there, that they weren’t used in the Second World War, though. Lots of others were, weren’t they?’

  ‘Certainly were,’ said Andrew, looking interested. ‘I don’t think that would have come up within the parameters I’d set for research. I’ll have to look into it when I get home.’

  ‘I can’t believe the last couple of days,’ said Libby, leaning back in her chair. ‘So much has happened. How was Faith last night?’

  ‘Shocked,’ said Andrew. ‘Yet not as much, somehow, as I would have thought. I don’t really know why she wanted to see me.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Libby grinned at him. ‘Perhaps you’re a candidate for husband number three! Take care, Andrew.’

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Libby called Fran, then drove straight from Maidstone to Nethergate. Fran greeted her at the door of Coastguard Cottage.

  ‘Shall we go and get a sandwich at Mavis’s?’ she suggested.

  ‘Good idea – I’ve parked behind there, anyway,’ said Libby.

  ‘Come on, then, tell me all about these amazing discoveries,’ said Fran as they walked back towards the cafe.

  By the time Libby had finished, they were seated at one of the outside tables and the current waitress had taken their order.

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ said Fran with a frown, ‘is why this hasn’t come up anywhere before. Rowena must have known about the tunnels. I mean, when her parents inherited the estate from Stephanie Hays, there must have been title deeds that mention them. After all, they’re mentioned in the auction catalogue, so they’d be on the deeds.’

  ‘How do we know they weren’t sold, though?’ said Libby. ‘I can’t remember if they were in a separate lot. The cottages were, I seem to remember.’

  ‘And they weren’t sold. In fact, it doesn’t look as if much of the estate was sold. We know the Court was knocked down.’

  ‘Oh, well, we’ll soon know. Ian will have got his search warrant by now, so they’ll go over the place with a toothcomb. They might even find Roly in the process.’

  ‘That’s another thing I don’t understand,’ said Fran. ‘If Roly’s scared of someone connected to Lisa’s death, why is he hanging around so close to Chestnut Cottage?’

  ‘That’s what Andrew said.’ Libby rested her chin on her hand. ‘Roly said he knew who the owner was, didn’t he?’

  ‘No – you said he didn’t know. Just that it was the owner of Chestnut Cottage who had her working for him. Which it patently wasn’t.’

  ‘No. Poor Rowena.’

  ‘But he had connected Chestnut Cottage to the whole scenario, which was why he made the phone calls to you, so it seems odd that he should still be around, as I said.’

  ‘Perhaps he isn’t,’ said Libby. ‘Perhaps he was just paying a flying visit? Oh, here are our sandwiches.’

  ‘Have you had a look at the Harriers’ page this morning?’ she asked a little later, her mouth full of tuna sandwich.

  ‘Briefly,’ said Fran. ‘No new postings or comments. But I suppose they’re all at work.’

  ‘Do you really think it’s one of the members?’

  ‘Ian does. Mind you, he probably knows a lot more about them all than we do.’

  ‘And the reasoning is that Lisa started running when she was in Canterbury, then joined the Harriers – why, I wonder? –and was offered Chestnut Cottage. By one of the members?’

  ‘I think that’s it. No one’s been able to say why she joined the Harriers when she lived in Canterbury, have they?’

  ‘No.’Libby finished her sandwich and wiped her mouth. ‘We don’t know where she worked, either, do we? Again, none of the members knew, and assumed she worked in an office – Roly did, didn’t he? But she couldn’t have been working from home – at least not at the same sort of thing – when she lived at home with her husband and children. I wonder if the husband’s been asked.’

  ‘Bound to have been,’ said Fran. ‘I should think his whole life has been turned inside out by the police.’

  ‘Of course. The things we don’t know about an investigation.’

  ‘That’s as it should be.’ Fran pushed back her chair. ‘Do you want anything else? Only I ought to get back and relieve Guy for lunch.’

  ‘No, I’ll pootle off home. I’ve got some stuff to sort out for tonight. You are coming, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m giving Susannah a lift.’

  They paid their bill and wandered back down the street. Libby bought an ice cream from the kiosk and sat on the wall to eat it while Fran went into the shop.A few minutes later, Guy joined her on the wall.

  ‘I hear you’ve been busy.’

  Libby finished her ice cream and nodded.

  ‘I don’t know how it happened. We’re not connected to this at all.’

  ‘In a way by Sophie and Adam.’ Guy looked out to sea. ‘And Fran’s had a feeling about it from the start.’

  ‘She did seem interested at first,’ said Libby cautiously. Guy could be even more unhappy about his other half’sexploits than Ben could with hers.

  ‘She still is. She won’t – or can’t – explain why.’

  ‘I expect she can’t,’ said Libby. ‘She still doesn’t understand her strange brain after all these years.’

  Guy swung himself off the wall. ‘I know. It makes married life difficult sometimes.’

  ‘Oh, dear, does it?’ Libby looked up at him, worried.

  He grinned. ‘Interesting, let’s say. I’m off to get some lunch.’

  Libby watched him let himself into Coastguard Cottage, then stood up and walked slowly back down Harbour Street to fetch her car from behind The Blue Anchor.

  Back in Steeple Martin, she made herself tea, then satdown with piles of musicand sheaves of paper to work on the programme for The End Of The Pier Show. She was quite surprised when the phone rang to find that a couple of hours had passed without her even thinking about Lisa, Roly or the Notbourne Estate.

  ‘It’s me, Andrew!’ said a breathless voice. ‘I’m over in Shott – and we’ve found the tunnels!’

  ‘You’ve what? How?’

  ‘Your Ian got a warrant and various other bits of information and invited me over with my copies of the documents I showed you this morning. Somehow, they worked out where the tunnels were most likely to be – and here they are!’

  ‘That’s quick work,’ said Libby. ‘I can’t quite believe it.’

  ‘I think the urgency was in case your missing young man was there,’ said Andrew. ‘But the ironic thing is, now that we’
ve located them, no one can go inside. They’ve got to be inspected by a specialist team first.’

  ‘I suppose they would,’ said Libby. ‘But when you see archaeologists’ digs and they find tunnels, they don’t have anyone go in and inspect them first, do they?’

  ‘But this is the police. I expect they might need an archaeologist to go in first. I don’t know. I just thought I’d tell you. I knew you’d want to know.’

  ‘It’s brilliant, Andrew. Do you think there’ll be anything left?’

  ‘I doubt it. We don’t know when they wound it up, do we?’

  ‘I wish we could find out more,’ said Libby. ‘I think it’s odd that there isn’t more information out there.’

  ‘There are probably specialist local historians who know more. There usually are.’

  ‘I wonder how we could find one?’

  ‘I’ll ask at the university. They usually know these people. Right, I’m being moved on. I’ll keep you informed.’

  Libby went into the kitchen to find something for supper, taking the phone with her. While she investigated the fridge she rang Fran.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s so quick! Everything seems to bemoving at lightning speed.’

  ‘When will they be able to get in there?’ asked Fran.

  ‘I don’t know. I expect Ian will be agitating for it to be as soon as possible, don’t you? But they won’t do it tonight.’

  ‘No. First thing in the morning then, when they’ve got the equipment.’

  ‘I expect so. I wonder if they’ll find Roly there?’

  ‘They won’t,’ said Fran. ‘If he is there, he will have heard them and he’ll make a bolt during the night.’

  ‘But they’ll have left a copper on duty overnight, surely?’

  ‘I think that might be stretching their resources.’

  ‘Hmm. But suppose the tunnels are being used – perhaps something’s stored there – the murderer or whoever could come back tonight to get rid of the evidence,’ Libby argued.

  ‘There is that,’ Fran conceded. ‘But they won’t find Roly, anyway. Not there.’

  Libby didn’t bother to ask how she knew.

  ‘Right, I’ve got to go and rustle up supper,’ she said instead. ‘I’ll see you at the theatre later.’

  Ben was gratifyingly impressed with her day of surprises.

  ‘And now you’d better get off to the theatre,’ he said, when they’d finished their meal. ‘I’ll come up a bit later, if you need me to.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Libby. ‘I probably will.’

  Fran and Susannah arrived first.

  ‘Fran’s been telling me all about the murders and Notbourne Court. Have you asked Jane about it?’

  ‘Jane?’ repeated Libby.

  ‘She could have a look in the archives of the paper,’ said Susannah. ‘I don’t suppose everything goes online.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll ring her tomorrow.’

  ‘Andrew said what we need is a local historian – you know, one of those people who study the area and appear on documentary shows on TV,’ said Libby.

  ‘Where would we find one of those?’ asked Fran.

  ‘That’s what I said. Andrew said he’d ask at the university.’

  ‘I know one,’ said Susannah surprisingly. ‘So does your Sophie, Fran. He’s one of her Harriers.’

  ‘Really?’ said Fran and Libby together.

  ‘Who?’ said Libby.

  ‘Fellow called Nick. Nick Heap. He went to Imogen’s school once for a history event. Immie was too young for it, but we went along anyway.’

  ‘What was the event about?’ asked Fran.

  ‘The history of the area, right back to pre-Roman. Very simplified, obviously for primary school kids, but there were an astonishing number in the higher classes who were really interested. I think it was called something like “Marks we leave behind us” – something like that.’

  ‘So, do we speak to him ourselves or tell Ian?’ said Libby. ‘Thanks, Susannah, that’s really great.’

  ‘I suggest we tell Andrew,’ said Fran. ‘Ian seems to be treating him as an expert witness, and it would come better from him.’

  Libby pulled out her mobile.

  ‘Not now!’ said Susannah and Fran together.

  The meeting went as well as could be expected. Most of the cast had done the show before and much of the material was recycled, although Libby tried to find new things to put in each year. Susannah took them through a few of the chorus numbers, and a few people were allotted a new solo piece. Ben came in and had a discussion with Bob the butcher about the seaside set they built between them, which had to be portable, as the show itself was staged at The Alexandria in Nethergate. One of Libby’s fantasies was to come true this year, of having a “live” Punch and Judy show acted out – rather, over-acted – in a huge Punch and Judy booth on stage. There seemed to her to be limitless comedy opportunities in having real people playing dog Toby, the sausages and the Crocodile, as well as an oversized Baby.

  By ten o’clock Libby declared herself satisfied.

  ‘Drink?’ suggested Ben.

  Several people including Libby and Bob agreed, but Fran and Susannah declined.

  ‘Susannah has to get back and I have to drive,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

  In the pub, Libby asked if anyone knew anything about Notbourne Court, as it appeared to lie at the heart of the whole Lisa Harwood/Rowena Samuels/Roly Johnson mystery.

  Most people who had lived in the area all their lives had heard of it, but not much more than that.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ piped up a voice from the back. ‘I’ve heard something about it. You remember that bloke that came and stayed here when you were mixed up in that murder over at – where was it? – Keeper’s Cob, that’s it.’

  All eyes turned to look at Olivia, former principal boy and now concert party soubrette.

  ‘You mean that black bloke?’ said someone.

  ‘Edward Hall?’ said Libby. ‘You talked to him?’

  ‘Yes.’Olivia blushed. ‘He was nice.’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ said Libby. ‘But what did he say? He wasn’t from around here.’

  ‘No, but you know he was interested in the Civil War period? He was telling me about some of the other places locally that were involved. And one of them was Notbourne Court.Apparently they built themselves escape tunnels.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Libby turned to Ben. ‘That’s amazing. Who shall we tell?’

  ‘Andrew again,’ said Ben. ‘Olivia, that’s really interesting news. Thank you for remembering it.’

  ‘’s OK,’ said Olivia, and blushed again.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Libby, ‘I’m just going to have to send Andrew a text. I can’t believe so much is coming together.’

  ‘Don’t count your chickens,’ said Ben. ‘Neither this Nick person nor Edward Hall may have anything for us.’

  ‘But they might,’ said Libby, laboriously sending Andrew a text message. ‘Andrew’s got Edward’s number, hasn’t he? They got on quite well last time he was here.’She pressed send. ‘Done now. Either he’ll phone back now or in the morning.’

  But Andrew was obviously too impatient to wait until morning, and a few moments later Libby’s phone warbled. She excused herself and left the table.

  ‘Sorry – am I interrupting anything?’

  ‘No, we’re in the pub with some of the theatre people.’

  ‘Tell me what’s happened.’

  Libby related the conversations with both Susannah and Olivia. ‘And I assume you still have Edward’s number?’ she concluded.

  ‘Yes, I have. Good sort, Edward. But what about this other person? What’s his number?’

  ‘Not the faintest. We can ask Fran’s step-daughter Sophie, but I think she’d be wary of giving out members’details to anyone else. The dreaded Data Protection

  Act.’

  ‘I expect Ian will have a way of tracking him d
own,’ said Andrew. ‘I hope I can meet him.’

  ‘And you’ll tell Ian, will you? And get in touch with Edward?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I think I’m supposed to be accompanying them in the morning.’

  ‘As an expert witness?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Sounds silly, doesn’t it? But yes. I’ll keep you informed.’

  Libby went back to the table. ‘Your news has gone down well,’ she said to Olivia. ‘Thank you.’

  Olivia mumbled something and took refuge in her drink.

  Libby wasn’t surprised to receive an early phone call from Edward Hall, a historian they had met while looking into possible treasure from the Civil Wars.

  ‘Lovely to hear from you, Edward, but I suspect you’ve heard from Andrew?’

  ‘He left me a text message quite early this morning. Presumably didn’t want to wake me on a Saturday.’ Edward laughed.

  ‘Kind of him. How much did he say?’

  ‘I’ll read it. “Do you know anything about Notbourne Court and tunnels?” So, yes, I do, and what’s it all about?’

  Libby went back over the whole story, from Lisa Harwood’s disappearance to the discovery of Rowena Samuels’ body.

  ‘I think I got most of that,’ said Edward. ‘How do you come into it this time?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Fran’s stepdaughter Sophie and my son Adam – do you remember him? – were running with Lisa Harwood when she disappeared, and they are – were – all members of the same running club. So was the boy who’s disappeared, but we don’t think he’s dead.’

  ‘So it’s this club that’s under suspicion?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Libby. ‘Anyway, you apparently told one of our theatre company all about the tunnels when you were staying here.’

  ‘Ah, the pretty, tall girl who was in the pantomime? Yes, I remember. She seemed very interested.’

  ‘She was,’ said Libby, with a grin.

  ‘Right, so what do you want me to do? Will I meet your handsome detective again?’

  ‘If you could give Andrew a quick ring on his mobile, I think they – he and the police – are at the site now. And how did you know about Notbourne Court and the tunnels in the first place? No one here seems to know anything about them.’