Murder on the Run

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘This was where Lisa lived,’ said Libby, looking round with interest.

  ‘It was,’ said Ian. ‘As keeper of the gate.’

  ‘Keeper …?’

  ‘We think this is the other end of our tunnel.’ He opened what looked like a pantry door.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ asked Fran.

  ‘We have our suspicions. I came over to have a sniff around. We don’t want to stir up any interest if we can help it, so we’re hoping to get into it from the other end.’

  ‘What have you found so far?’ asked Libby. ‘Or aren’t you allowed to tell us?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ Ian held the pantry door wide open. ‘Fran, see if you can notice anything in here, would you?’

  Fran threw him a suspicious look, but stepped forward gingerly, then stopped.

  ‘There’s earth on the floor.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Fran knelt down by the back wall of the pantry, which, oddly, only had shelves on the side walls.

  ‘This is a false back, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘There’s a very slight draught.’

  ‘That’s what I think,’ said Ian. ‘If we can’t come at it from the other side, we’ll have to get the experts in to get it open.’

  ‘Does it matter, if you’ve already found the tunnel?’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh, yes, it matters,’ said Ian.

  ‘There are scrape marks on the floor here, too.’ Fran was still peering down. ‘Something heavy’s been dragged.’

  Libby shuddered. ‘Oh, please, not a body.’

  ‘No, something stone … I know!’ Fran looked up. ‘Those pots!’

  Ian squatted to look at the marks. ‘Yes, you could be right. We really have to get behind this door.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to bring in your experts,’ said Fran. ‘I don’t think you’ll get into it from the other end.’

  Ian and Libby looked at each other, then back at Fran.

  ‘Did you –’

  ‘Was that –’ they said together.

  Fran looked surprised. ‘Yes, I think so.’ She stood up. ‘So Lisa was guarding the entrance to whatever this is. On behalf of who, though? Not Rowena.’

  Ian was frowning. ‘We’re looking into that. We’ve got a team at Maple Cottage as well as in the main tunnel. Which, I can tell you,looks as though it hasn’t been used for some time.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ said Libby.

  Ian laughed. ‘Quite!’

  Fran looked up at Ian. ‘I’m sorry if we were being intrusive, Ian. And you were right. We were seeing shadows where there were none.’

  ‘Some of your shadows have been helpful,’ said Ian, ushering them out of the back door.

  Libby and Fran were silent as they walked back to The Poacher.

  ‘I suppose he was right,’ said Libby eventually.

  ‘Yes.’ Fran kept her eyes on the ground.

  ‘And it was nice of him to show us the – um –entrance.’

  ‘A sop,’ said Fran. ‘He already knew. He didn’t need me to look at it.’

  Libby sighed. ‘Oh, well. At least they’ve nearly wrapped it up.’

  ‘Have they?’ Fran stopped beside her car. ‘Do they know what’s been going on? Who put Lisa into Chestnut Cottage? And why? And why Rowena Samuels was killed?’

  Libby frowned. ‘I suppose that was because she was the real owner, and …’ she shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I’m going home,’ said Fran. ‘I shall go and cook something really complicated to take my mind off this.’

  ‘I think you should go back to writing,’ said Libby. ‘Think what a good story this would make.’

  Fran had once toyed with writing a novel and taken classes with Amanda George.

  ‘One with no ending,’ said Fran, climbing into the car. She gave Libby a small smile. ‘Thanks, though.’

  Libby drove slowly back to Steeple Martin, trying to work out the story of Lisa Harwood, Rowena Samuels and the mystery of Notbourne Court.

  ‘Unless,’ she said to herself, ‘it’s nothing to do with the Court at all, but the people. But there’s one big hole in the middle. One person missing. The killer.’

  She was almost back at number 17 when her phone rang. She let it go to voicemail while pulling in to her parking space on the other side of Allhallow’s Lane, then pulled the phone out to see who had called.

  “Unknown Number” it told her, but also that there was a message. As she pressed the button to listen, her heart gave a thump.

  ‘Libby, it’s Roly. You went to see Chestnut Cottage today, didn’t you? Well – listen –’ his voice broke, ‘I’ve found a body.’ The message cut off abruptly, and Libby frantically called back.

  ‘Answer, answer!’ she pleaded silently, and at last, he did.

  ‘Roly, I was driving! Where are you? How did you know –’

  ‘I saw you.’ He sounded as if he was in tears. ‘I wanted to call out, but you had that policeman with you.’

  ‘You found a body?’

  ‘Yes. It’s – it’s horrible. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Tell the police. You must, Roly, please.’

  ‘I can’t!’ He was practically screaming now. ‘You do it! Please, Libby. You do it.’

  Libby took a deep, shaky breath. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘At Chestnut Cottage. Where do you think? Will you come? Please?’

  ‘Will you stay there?’

  ‘Yes. I promise.’ The phone clicked off.

  Libby got out of the car, and realised that her whole body was shaking.

  She found Ian’s work number, and was patched through.

  ‘Libby – what is it? You know I’m busy.’

  ‘I know, but Roly just called me.’

  ‘Roly?’ Ian’s voice sharpened. ‘What is it? Are you all right?’

  ‘You’ll never believe it!’ She tried a shaky and unsuccessful laugh. ‘He’s found a body.’

  ‘Where is he? Where? Quickly!’

  ‘He wants me to go. He told me to call you, too.’

  ‘Youstay where you are. Where’s Ben?’

  ‘At work – I don’t know. Look, Ian, I don’t think you’ll see Roly unless I’m there. He sounded very on the edge.’

  ‘All right. Are you safe to drive? You sound upset.’

  ‘I am upset. But I’m safe, it isn’t far.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Chestnut Cottage.’

  There was a muffled expletive at the other end.

  ‘I’m at Maple still. I’ll meet you.’

  Libby got back in the car and managed to turn it round. Several times on the journey back to Shott she questioned her ability to drive safely, but by keeping well below the speed limit she arrived outside Chestnut Cottage in one piece and parked, rather drunkenly, on the opposite side of the lane. No other cars were in sight.

  She climbed out and looked round, suddenly scared.

  ‘I’m here, don’t worry.’ Ian’s voice spoke softly in her ear. ‘I moved everyone down here, very quietly. Now let’s go into Chestnut Cottage.’

  Now that she knew, Libby could see signs of movement in the undergrowth along the sides of the lane. Ian led the way across the lane and up the path to Chestnut Cottage’s front door. As he opened it, they heard a sound from inside, and Ian pushed Libby behind him, pausing before proceeding.

  ‘Do you think he’s armed?’ Ian whispered.

  ‘Roly? No, of course not! He’s scared stiff,’ Libby whispered back.

  ‘Speak to him, then. Quietly.’

  ‘Roly? Are you here? It’s Libby. Where are you?’

  There was silence for a long minute, then a scraping sound.

  ‘Libby? Are you on your own?’

  ‘No, I called the police, like you told me. I’ve got DCI Connell with me.’

  ‘Just him?’

  ‘Yes, just him and me.’

  Libby’s heart was thumping so hard she thought she might black out, but Ian took hold of her arm in a fi
rm grip and moved her slightly forward into the kitchen.

  There was another scraping sound, and slowly, the pantry door opened. Roly almost fell through it and stayed on the floor. Ian was down beside him immediately.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No.’ Roly’s voice was a thread. ‘Passage.’

  Ian stood up, turned away and spoke into his phone. Turning back, he said ‘I’ve called for an ambulance and a couple of my men are coming in as well. Will you be all right, Libby?’

  Libby, now down on her knees by Roly’s head, nodded. Ian went into the pantry.

  ‘Libby?’

  ‘Yes, Roly. I’m here.’ Libby tentatively stroked the dirty and matted hair. ‘Don’t talk yet.’

  Two uniformed police officers came into the cottage, followed by DC Tomlinson, looking nervous.

  ‘DCI Connell went in there,’ said Libby pointing at the open pantry door. Showing no surprise, the two uniforms, wearing, Libby noticed, body armour, went straight into the pantry and disappeared. Tomlinson came down on his haunches beside her.

  ‘Ambulance is on its way,’ he said, in hushed tones.

  Roly began to push himself upwards, and Tomlinson tensed. Libby smiled. ‘He’s not going anywhere, are you, Roly?’

  Roly shook his head and leant against Libby. ‘Awful,’ he whispered, and fainted. Between them, Libby and Tomlinson prevented his head from crashing down on the stone-flagged floor.

  The paramedics arrived and took over.

  ‘Should I go with him?’ Libby asked doubtfully.

  ‘I should stay here. I expect DCI Connell will want to speak to you,’ said Tomlinson. ‘I’ve got to go to hospital with him.’

  ‘Can I sit outside, then?’ Libby asked.

  ‘I suppose so.’ Tomlinson sounded doubtful himself now, but led the way outside. Shortly, the paramedics carried Roly out and loaded him into an ambulance. Several more officers went into the cottage.

  Libby called Ben, to let him know where she was.

  ‘Oh, Lib!’ Ben sounded exasperated. ‘Why can’t you stay out of things?’

  ‘That’s not fair. Roly called me, I told Ian and Ian asked me to come over. And everything’s all right. I’m just waiting to be told I can go home.’

  ‘You don’t want me to come and get you?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. But you might scout around for something for dinner. We can’t even go to Hal’s – it’s Monday.’

  ‘All right. Oh – before you go, someone called Janet Dory just came looking for you.’

  ‘What, to the Manor?’

  ‘Yes. She didn’t know our address, so she came here.’

  ‘What did she want?’

  ‘She said it was a terrific coincidence, but yesterday you were talking about Derek Samuels and today she saw his sister in the village getting into a car.

  ‘She what?’ Libby experienced a surge of adrenalin.

  ‘Yes. She said she hadn’t seen her for years, thought she’d moved away, but there she was in the high street.’

  ‘Oh, golly.’ Libby was frowning. ‘Was she driving?’

  ‘No, she said it was driven by a man. Is it important?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Libby, pulling pieces together in her mind. ‘Look I’d better go and tell Ian. Would you do me a favour and call Fran to tell her what’s been going on?’

  ‘This is serious,’ said Ben. ‘All right. Look after yourself.’

  Libby switched off the phone and walked back towards Chestnut Cottage. The uniformed officer on the door looked at her suspiciously.

  ‘I know I can’t go in, officer, but could you get an urgent message to DCI Connell, please?’

  ‘What is it, madam?’

  Libby repeated what Ben had told her, and the officer, looking bemused, disappeared inside the cottage. Libby returned to the bench in the front garden where she’d been sitting. Ten minutes later, Ian reappeared and sat down beside her, looking weary and slightly dishevelled.

  ‘Find anything?’ Libby asked.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Ian’s mouth turned down in distaste. ‘We’ve found the body of what used to be the real Faith Conway.’

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Libby gaped. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Passport and driving licence. They were still with the body.’

  Libby fell silent.

  ‘And we found the tubs.’

  ‘The tubs? Oh, the tubs. What did they have to do with anything?’

  ‘As far as we can tell, they were simply decoration.’

  Libby nodded. ‘And did you get my message?’

  ‘That Denise Samuels had been seen in Steeple Martin? Yes.’

  ‘Er – would that be the woman we know as Faith?’

  ‘Until we speak to her we can’t be sure. And did you recognise the description of the man with her?’

  ‘It sounded like the historian – Nick Heap.’

  Ian stood up. ‘We’d better start looking for them, then.’

  ‘Do you think any of the story she told us was true? About the family?’

  ‘I think it probably was – it’s too easy to check. After all, we’re in touch with the solicitors, and they’ve confirmed that Rowena had set in train the process of returning the estate to the Hays family.’

  Libby frowned. ‘So it looks as though the Samuels sister didn’t want it returned. But why? It can’t be worth that much.’

  ‘There are two highly desirable cottages and a sizeable chunk of land that could probably be redeveloped.’

  ‘Hold on, though.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘If the Samuels sister didn’t want it returned to the Hays family, all she has to do is continue to pretend to be Faith. Then everything will be handed over to her.’

  ‘But the solicitors would require proof. And believe me, there was no way Denise Samuels could have persuaded anyone she was Faith Conway.’

  ‘Were they so different?’

  ‘Difficult to tell,’ said Ian. ‘But from the passport photograph, yes. The woman we know as Faith is small, with greying hair. The real Faith is a bigger woman altogether, and has – had – pure white hair.’

  ‘And was it the chapel?’

  ‘Look, Libby, I’m grateful to you for bringing me out here, but I really can’t discuss it with you at the moment. If you’re all right to drive, I suggest you go home. I’ll let you know as much as I can when I can.’

  Libby nodded, and watched him go back towards the cottage, his phone already to his ear. Just as she turned to go back to the car, Detective Constable Turnbull appeared.

  ‘Mrs Sarjeant,’ she said, ‘DCI Connell though you might like an escort back home.’

  ‘That was kind of him,’ said Libby, ‘but he probably wants to make sure I don’t to get into any trouble.’

  DC Turnbull offered an ice maiden smile. ‘I couldn’t say, ma’am.’

  ‘I think I’m safe to drive,’ said Libby.

  ‘How about I follow you home, just in case?’ suggested DC Turnbull.

  ‘Seems a bit excessive.’

  ‘You’re a valuable witness. I’ll stay back.’

  Libby shrugged. ‘All right. Kind of you.’

  Another wintry smile. ‘Part of the job, ma’am.’

  Libby turned the car round and drove back towards The Poacher, noting the unobtrusive black saloon in her mirror. What was Ian really worried about, she wondered?

  She drew in to the side of the road just before the turn into Allhallow’s Lane and got out of the car.

  ‘That’s my road over there,’ she told DC Turnbull, who had pulled in behind her and let down her window. ‘I stopped here because it’s a cul-de-sac and you’d have to turn round to come out again.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said the officer, ‘but DCI Connell said I was to make sure you got safely inside.’

  ‘Oh, OK.’ Libby straightened up and stopped dead. ‘DC Turnbull,’ she said quietly. ‘Over there. That man outside the pub.’

  ‘The tall dark one?’
<
br />   ‘Yes. It’s someone DCI Connell wants to speak to.’

  DC Turnbull was already speaking into a radio. Libby stood irresolute, wondering what she should do, when out of the pub came the woman she knew as Faith Conway.

  ‘That’s the fake Faith!’ she whispered to DC Turnbull. ‘What do I do if she sees me?’

  ‘I’m going over,’ said Turnbull, opening the door. ‘Stay here.’

  Nick Heap and Denise Samuels were now walking towards them on the other side of the high street. DC Turnbull approached casually then stopped right in front of them. Libby saw both Heap and Samuels shake their heads and make as if to move on.

  ‘She can’t stop them,’ muttered Libby to herself, and set off across the road just as Nick Heap was ushering Denise Samuels round DC Turnbull.

  ‘Hello, Faith!’ called Libby, in what she hoped wasn’t a shaky voice. ‘I see you’ve met our local historian. Hello, Nick.’

  Denise Samuels looked horrified and Nick Heap furious. Libby wondered if he was going to just charge straight through her, when he jerked to a halt, surprise written all over his face.

  ‘Mr Heap, I must ask you to accompany me to the station.’ Turnbull’s voice was as icy as her smile. ‘And you, Miss Samuels.’

  Denise screamed and lashed out. Libby caught a blow on her arm, and made a grab for the woman.

  ‘It’s OK – I’ve got her.’ An unruffled Harry peered between Samuels and Heap. ‘And anyway, here comes the cavalry.’

  Looking relieved, DC Turnbull lifted her free hand to the uniformed officers who were coming towards them. By this time Denise Samuels was sobbing.

  Nick Heap swore at Harry. ‘Let go of my mother.’

  Libby and Harry both looked astonished, as officers relieved Turnbull of her charges and led them towards waiting police cars. She turned to Libby with a much warmer smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t have done it, but I don’t know how I’d have stopped them walking away.’

  ‘As Harry said, the cavalry were coming.’ Libby returned the smile. ‘Now what happens? Do I need to make a statement?’

  ‘I think you go home, Mrs Sarjeant,’ said the officer. ‘And I’m sorry sir, I should thank you, too.’

  ‘Harry Price,’ said Harry holding out a hand, ‘and I don’t suppose I should have done it, either. You know, Lib, I never did trust that woman.’