Murder in Bloom - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Retainer.’

  ‘One of them, yeah. Anyway, the faithful old retainer’s got lunch ready. Going to stay?’

  ‘No, I won’t, thanks, Lewis. I can’t say I took to Miss Cindy Dale, either. But she’s so different from what I imagined.’

  ‘Yeah, no tits and teeth, eh? Me and all. You’d better say hello to Adam, though, hadn’t you, or he’ll be miffed with me for not letting him know you’ve been here.’

  They walked up to the house through the parterre and found Adam coming to meet them.

  ‘Hi, Ma,’ he said. ‘Lewis, I think you’d better go in. Cindy’s looking as sick as a parrot. Big Bertha’s back.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  WITH AN EXPRESSION OF horror on his face, Lewis shot into the house. Adam made a face at his mother and began to walk her towards the Land Rover.

  ‘So, you met her?’

  Libby nodded.

  ‘What did you make of her, then?’

  ‘She’s obviously very different from how we all thought she’d be, and she’s telling a very strange, and, frankly, unbelievable story.’

  ‘I thought Lewis believed it.’

  ‘Well, I’ve put some doubts in his mind now. What does Big Bertha want?’

  ‘Goodness knows. To talk to Cindy, I expect.’

  ‘What I can’t understand,’ said Libby, turning round with her hand on the driver’s door, ‘is why a superintendent is out on the ground, so to speak.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘They’re usually sitting behind a desk directing operations.’

  ‘Not on telly, they’re not.’

  ‘If you think about it, most of the TV detectives are inspectors,’ said Libby. ‘Like Ian, or Donnie Murray.’

  ‘Donnie?’

  ‘Don’t you remember? When DCI Murray came to see The Hop Pickers, his wife called him Donnie. You were all there.’

  ‘God, Ma, that was years ago.’

  ‘Two years, that’s all. Anyway, that’s all beside the point. Superintendent Bertram is coming out and questioning suspects. I wonder why?’

  ‘You have the strangest mind,’ said Adam, frowning at his mother. ‘That isn’t important, surely? You said Cindy’s story was unbelievable, so that’s the strangest thing.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Libby turned and climbed into the Land Rover. ‘See you later. Ben’s booked a table at Harry’s for eight.’

  ‘I’ll be home before that,’ said Adam, ‘unless you’re throwing me out.’

  ‘Stoopid,’ said Libby, and ruffled his hair. ‘See you.’

  But Cindy’s truly was an unbelievable story, she thought as she drove past Steeple Mount without even thinking about the grisly chapel. Especially when you remembered that Fran wasn’t certain the skeleton was Kenneth. Libby pulled the Land Rover into a gateway and thought. Then, carefully, she turned back the way she had come and drove down into Nethergate.

  Fran was in the gallery with Sophie and professed herself ready for a cup of tea. Sophie happily agreed to shop-sit, and Libby walked purposefully down Harbour Street to The Blue Anchor.

  ‘We could have had a cup of tea at home,’ said Fran.

  ‘But I can smoke here,’ said Libby, pulling a battered packet out of her basket. ‘I still haven’t quite given up.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  While Mavis went to fetch their tea, Libby told her Cindy’s story.

  ‘And I thought, well, if it wasn’t Kenneth in the wood, the girl must be lying. And if she’s lying about that, what else is she lying about?’

  ‘Look, I know I said I didn’t think it was Kenneth, but I’m not infallible. It seems most likely it is him, after all.’

  ‘Yes, I know, that’s why even I managed to work it out. If it’s got Shepherd’s DNA it seems there’s only two people it could be, Shepherd himself or Kenneth.’

  ‘It’s not Shepherd.’ Fran shook her head. ‘But I’m concerned about why I thought it wasn’t Kenneth. As you said, who else could it be?’

  ‘How is DNA extracted from a skeleton?’ asked Libby after a moment.

  ‘I don’t know!’ Fran looked startled.

  ‘And the other question,’ said Libby, looking excited, ‘is how did they get Shepherd’s DNA?’

  Fran paused in the act of raising her mug to her lips, an arrested expression on her face.

  ‘I mean, he’s not around now, and Lewis has cleared out most of the stuff that was left behind.’

  ‘Except those albums, but they couldn’t get DNA off those, could they?’

  ‘Did they find something in the attic, do you think?’ Libby squinted against cigarette smoke.

  ‘Even if they did, they couldn’t be sure it was Shepherd’s.’ Fran frowned. ‘This is very peculiar. It could be anybody.’

  ‘I wonder if Lewis knows how they got the DNA? They asked him if he’d ever met Shepherd, didn’t they?’

  ‘Did they? I suppose if they asked him if there had been anything of Shepherd’s left in the house … they would have wanted to rule him out, wouldn’t they?’

  Libby nodded. ‘Exactly what I was thinking.’ She stubbed out her cigarette in Mavis’s tin ashtray. ‘I shall ask him tonight.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘He’s coming over and Adam, Ben and I are taking him to The Pink Geranium.’

  ‘You’ve got very friendly with him.’

  Libby grinned. ‘He fancies Ad, so he’s treating me like a mother-substitute.’

  ‘Don’t you mind him fancying Ad?’

  ‘No, why should I? Ad’s over twenty-one, and if he decides he wants to try something different, who am I to stand in his way?’

  Fran looked uncertain.

  ‘Anyway, he’s coming over tonight so I’ll ask him about the DNA. He’s also coming to talk about something else.’ Libby stopped and looked down at the table.

  ‘Oh?’

  Libby fidgeted. ‘Well, I suppose I can tell you about it, but you’re not to say anything to anyone else.’

  ‘Not even Guy?’

  ‘Oh, I suppose he’s all right. But no one else.’

  Fran made a comical face. ‘Cross my heart,’ she said.

  So Libby told her all about Steeple Farm and Ben’s suggestion.

  ‘I thought you didn’t like it,’ said Fran.

  ‘I didn’t when Millie lived there, but it’s the cosmetics I didn’t like, not the building. And if Lewis oversees the prettification it’ll be back to a real old Kentish farmhouse.’

  ‘You’re happy at number 17, though.’

  ‘I always have been, but if Ben and I live together Steeple Farm would be more practical. And there’ll be more room for the children to come and stay.’

  The corners of Fran’s mouth were turned down, and now Libby was worried. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I can’t see it, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Oh.’ Libby was nonplussed. ‘What does that mean if we go ahead with it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Fran sighed. ‘Oh, don’t take any notice. I expect I’ve started being wrong again. I haven’t had any practice recently.’

  ‘All right,’ said Libby slowly.

  ‘And now I’d better get back to the shop,’ said Fran, standing up. ‘Sophie’s very good about taking over, but she’s only been back from uni a week or so, and all we’ve had her doing is working.’

  Libby stood up and picked up her basket. ‘What about your lot? Told the girls yet?’

  Fran laughed. ‘I sent them an email invitation. So far there’s been a stony silence. I’m waiting for one or both of them to turn up on my doorstep in high dudgeon.’

  Libby arrived back in Steeple Martin at about half past two and drove the Land Rover up to The Manor. Popping her head round the door she called for Hetty, who looked out from the kitchen.

  ‘Just leaving the Land Rover for Ben,’ she said.

  ‘Righto, gal. D’you want a cuppa?’

  ‘No, thanks, Het, I won’t,’ said Libby,
reflecting that she’d been drinking tea all day. ‘I’ll get off home. Got some catching up to do.’

  ‘Oh, ah.’ Hetty nodded. ‘Two men in the house now. Makes a difference.’

  Libby smiled ruefully. ‘Certainly does,’ she said.

  In fact, it was the washing she was finding hardest to cope with, she thought as she walked back down The Manor drive, never having mastered Ben’s shortcut through The Manor woods. Adam seemed to generate five times more washing than she did herself, and the thought of having to take on Ben’s as well was daunting. She took a deep breath and put her shoulders back. No quitting now, she told herself. You’ve more or less committed to this new life. The one thing she wasn’t going to do though, she thought, fitting the key into the lock of number 17, was sell her cottage.

  Ben and she were happily ensconced on the sofa in the window of The Pink Geranium while Adam bothered Harry in the kitchen when Lewis arrived. Adam brought Harry out to be introduced and Libby, amused, watched them size one another up.

  ‘Nice bloke,’ said Lewis after Harry had left them with menus. ‘Does his own cooking?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Adam. ‘I’ve helped in the kitchen sometimes.’

  ‘Jack of all trades, you are, mate,’ said Lewis, giving him an affectionate thump on the arm. Adam grinned and buried his face in the menu.

  Over pre-dinner drinks, Ben asked Lewis if he’d had any thoughts on Steeple Farm.

  ‘A few,’ he said, ‘but we’ve had the cops over again today, and I’ve not had much time to think about anything.’

  ‘What did they want?’ asked Libby. ‘Ad said he hadn’t heard anything.’

  ‘More questions for Cindy,’ said Lewis. ‘I don’t think they believe her story either.’

  ‘Why? They didn’t let you stay while they talked to her, did they?’

  ‘No, ’course not, but she didn’t look very happy when they left.’

  ‘Do you know why the superintendent is taking such an active role?’ asked Libby. ‘It’s not normal.’

  ‘How should I know? Perhaps she’s one of these people who can’t delegate.’

  ‘I didn’t think they had a choice in the police force,’ said Ben.

  ‘I didn’t either,’ said Libby. ‘Now, Lewis, the other thing I wanted to ask you –’

  ‘Was what?’ said Lewis, looking resigned.

  ‘Are you wishing you hadn’t asked me to look into this?’ Libby frowned at him.

  ‘Was that the other question?’ asked Lewis, and Ben and Adam burst out laughing.

  ‘No! Honestly, men,’ said Libby, picking up her menu.

  ‘Oh, go on, Lib.’ Lewis leant across and patted her hand. ‘I was joking. What was the question?’

  ‘How did they get Gerald Shepherd’s DNA?’

  A silence fell.

  ‘What the hell do you want to know that for?’ asked Ben finally.

  ‘A theory,’ said Libby stubbornly.

  ‘Oh, God, here we go again,’ said Ben and picked up his own menu.

  Lewis shot a worried look at Adam, then turned to Libby. ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘I wondered how they knew the skeleton had the same DNA as Gerald Shepherd if he’s disappeared. Could be dead for all we know.’

  ‘He is if he is the skeleton.’

  ‘Wrong age group,’ said Libby. ‘But somehow, they got hold of his DNA because they would have thought first of all that the body was his and they needed to know if it was.’

  ‘I told you, they came and searched the house –’ began Lewis.

  ‘I was there. They hadn’t searched it before, had they?’

  ‘No. But I remember you saying they’d check his DNA the first time we had a chat about it.’ Lewis was now looking very puzzled.

  ‘Well, I didn’t know much about it all, then, did I? But now, I wonder how they got it? It couldn’t be from a hairbrush, or a toothbrush, because all of that had gone.’ Libby turned again to Lewis. ‘Was any of that sort of personal stuff still there when you moved in?’

  ‘No.’ Lewis frowned. ‘There wasn’t much the first time I saw it, either. So it had been cleaned out by then.’

  ‘When Tony West took you to see it?’

  ‘Yes! You know all this, Lib.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Libby sighed. ‘It’s just so annoying when you can’t get to the bottom of something and there are no helpful police to ask.’

  Ben patted her hand. ‘Just as well,’ he said. ‘You’d only go blundering in and get yourself hit over the head again.’

  Lewis looked horrified. ‘Hit over the head?’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ said Libby. ‘I was sort of kidnapped.’

  Lewis goggled.

  ‘Nothing would have happened to us,’ Libby continued, ‘we just had to be got out of the way.’

  ‘Us?’ Lewis’s voice went up an octave.

  ‘Fran was with me,’ said Libby. ‘But we were OK. You can see that, can’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Lewis, looking depressed. Adam gave him a nudge.

  ‘Come on, mate, don’t let it get you down. I told you Ma was mad. Just ignore her and choose your food. I can recommend the Quesadillas de Hongos.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Mushrooms,’ chorused the other three, as Donna came up to take their order.

  Lewis cheered up during the meal, despite only drinking fizzy water. The conversation turned to Steeple Farm and, finally, Ben confessed to Lewis and Adam his thoughts on moving into it with Libby.

  ‘I guessed as much,’ said Adam triumphantly. ‘When Ma was standing there looking all moony at that paddock.’

  Libby sighed. ‘I wasn’t moony.’

  ‘You’ll love it, Ma. You always wanted a country cottage.’

  ‘I’ve got one,’ said Libby. ‘Number 17 is a cottage in the country, isn’t it?’

  ‘In a village, yes,’ said Adam.

  ‘Exactly. I didn’t want to be isolated.’

  ‘Steeple Farm isn’t isolated,’ said Ben.

  ‘I know.’ Libby turned to him. ‘It’s a lovely house, Ben. And when Lewis has finished with it, it’ll be even better.’

  ‘Hey! That’s great,’ said Lewis, scooping up the last of his refried beans. ‘I’d love to do it for you, Lib. You wouldn’t like it to be a project on the prog, would you?’

  Ben and Libby looked at each other.

  ‘I thought you were worried about that? Doing another series, I mean?’ said Libby.

  ‘No one’s said I’m not,’ said Lewis with a grin. ‘If I got in touch with the producer and suggested Steeple Farm I’d know, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Ben. ‘I don’t know that Peter would be comfortable with it.’

  ‘And there’s the privacy aspect,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh, right.’ Lewis looked disappointed. ‘Well, if you change your minds –’

  ‘We’ll tell you,’ said Libby. ‘But you’re still happy to oversee the project?’

  Lewis brightened. ‘Oh, yeah. Give me something to do apart from worrying meself sick over all this murder stuff.’

  Harry came out to join them for a drink at the end of the meal, and Libby was amused at his avuncular treatment of both Adam and Lewis, who was plainly fascinated.

  ‘Quite the father figure, isn’t he?’ murmured Ben. ‘Is that what marriage does for you?’

  ‘Makes you into a father?’ Libby twinkled at him. ‘It did for you!’

  Later, over a nightcap in the sitting room of number 17 Ben returned to the subject of Steeple Farm.

  ‘You’re still not convinced, are you?’ he said.

  Libby looked uncomfortable. ‘It’s such a big step.’

  ‘But you like the house, now?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Libby smiled. ‘Adam’s right, it is a dream place.’

  ‘But you still like this house.’

  ‘I love this house,’ admitted Libby. ‘Although I’ve still got a rubbishy cane sofa and odd chairs round the kitchen table it’s
exactly how I want it, and I’ve even got the conservatory for my painting. Not,’ she added guiltily, ‘that I’m doing much of that at the moment.’

  Ben looked at her with his head on one side. ‘Then had we better give Steeple Farm a miss?’ he said. ‘I’d hate to drag you away from here and have you resent me for it.’

  ‘You said I could keep this place anyway,’ said Libby, prevaricating.

  Ben nodded. ‘So what do you want to do?’

  Libby sighed heavily. ‘This is so sudden,’ she said.

  ‘Hardly sudden,’ laughed Ben. ‘I’ve been suggesting we live together properly for ages.’

  ‘I know, but moving. That’s what’s so sudden.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Ben, ‘we’ll let Lewis carry on with the project anyway, and make a decision at the end.’

  ‘Who’s going to pay?’ asked Libby. ‘Peter doesn’t want to.’

  ‘I will. I’ll get it back when Pete eventually sells it, or if we do decide to live in it, all well and good.’

  Libby flung her arms round him. ‘Oh, Ben,’ she said. ‘I do love you.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Ben.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘WHAT WAS THAT PROGRAMME Gerald Shepherd did in the nineties?’ asked Fran.

  Libby frowned at the telephone. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘I thought I’d see if it was on DVD.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I want to know what he looked like in later life.’

  ‘There’s sure to be photographs on the Internet,’ said Libby.

  ‘No, I want to see him in action,’ insisted Fran. ‘So, what was it?’

  ‘It comes up if you Google him,’ said Libby. ‘It was a political thriller.’

  ‘Got it,’ said Fran. ‘Collateral Damage. That’s what it was. Thanks, Lib. I’ll get on to it.’

  Still frowning, Libby switched off the phone. Fran was obviously getting interested in the Creekmarsh murder, which wasn’t, possibly, A Good Thing. Guy would be expecting her to concentrate on their rapidly approaching wedding, his attitude to the women’s shared investigations being much like Ben’s.

  But Fran’s interest would only be piqued if she thought there was something to be uncovered. If her mind had told her something was wrong. Otherwise, she would back away from any involvement, unsure of her own gift, if that’s what it was. To Fran it often appeared more of a curse. Libby sighed and went to fetch a duster. Last night, after Ben had made his suggestion about staying put for the time being, she’d taken a critical look round this cottage she loved so much and noticed the dust and hidden cobwebs. Time for a bit of a clean-up.