‘He’s a friend of Mog’s,’ said Ben, ‘and comes with excellent credentials.’
‘It’s more telling him what to do than his ability to do it,’ said Libby.
‘It’s easy in this room,’ said Ben. ‘Strip everything.’
‘I know,’ said Libby, ‘but what about the kitchen?’
She continued to worry about it all through Sunday until Ben told her he’d change his mind about going to live there if this was what she was going to be like.
‘Sorry,’ she said, sinking down on the sofa and gathering Sidney onto her lap. ‘I know I’m being a pain.’
‘You don’t really want to move, that’s what it’s really about, isn’t it?’ said Ben, coming to sit beside her.
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Libby. ‘I would love to live there, but I still love this cottage. I can’t have both.’
‘Perhaps you could sign this over to the children?’
‘Adam would be the only one to use it,’ said Libby. ‘Mind you, he’d probably be delighted.’
‘Let’s leave it on the back burner for a while,’ said Ben. ‘It’s the wedding of the year on Friday, after all. Fran might have things she’d like help with.’
‘Nothing,’ said Libby. ‘She’s so organised. All we’ve got to do is take the bride and groom to the venue.’
‘Separately,’ said Ben. ‘They won’t have a car the next day, then.’
‘I think Guy’s got a taxi booked to the airport. He’s giving her a traditional surprise honeymoon.’
‘Great! Where?’
‘Wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it?’
But Libby’s real problem was that the Creekmarsh mystery was still churning away in the back of her mind. She wanted to know what Cindy was after, why she’d killed Tony West and if she’d killed Kenneth.
After Ben had left for The Manor on Monday morning, she rang Fran and asked in which library it was she’d located the documents relating to Creekmarsh.
‘Here in Nethergate,’ said Fran. ‘Why?’
‘I’d just like to have a look at them,’ said Libby. ‘I know you’ve seen them and there isn’t anything useful, but I was curious. I thought I might ask Frank for a look at those maps he’s got, too.’
She could almost hear Fran shrugging. ‘Go on, then,’ she said, ‘but I don’t know what you hope to find.’
‘Nothing probably,’ said Libby.
Once again, she trudged up to The Manor to borrow the Land Rover. Neither Hetty nor Greg were to be seen, but Ben waved from the stable yard, now used as a machinery store.
On an impulse, she drove up to Steeple Farm and walked right round the house before making a circuit of the paddock and the garden. It was a beautiful place, no doubt about it, but was it really her? Niggling away in the back of her mind was Fran’s assurance that she could not see Libby living there, even though Fran had tried to say she was probably losing her grip. Libby sighed, went back to the Land Rover and climbed in.
The Nethergate library was in part of the old civic hall and the reference section was right at the back in a modern extension. The librarian, intrigued that she’d been asked for the same documents twice in a short time, fetched them immediately.
‘Do I have to wear white gloves?’ asked Libby.
‘Oh, no,’ said the librarian earnestly. ‘They aren’t very valuable.’
Libby raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
Sure enough the only pages of interest were the same ones Fran had been allowed to copy, but Libby was soon immersed in the day-to-day minutiae of Creekmarsh in the mid-nineteenth century, marvelling at the amounts of food, servants and animals recorded. It was while reading the faded writing detailing expenditure in July 1843 that she came across an item that caused an adrenalin-fuelled tingle up the back of her neck.
It seemed to be payment to a blacksmith for the creation of an iron door, locks and keys.
‘The strong room,’ whispered Libby. ‘Now where did Fran find mention of it in the papers she copied?’
But in those papers, it was merely a passing reference to buildings as part of the estate, including ‘an ice-house and a strong room’. Libby sat back and looked at the two references. Why had the ice-house and the strong room been coupled together? Was it because they’d been created at the same time? Was the strong room outside the house as the ice-house was? She began to look backwards through the accounts books to see if she could find anything else, but there was nothing. The library held no original architectural drawings, but the librarian did volunteer that the original garden designs were kept at the central library in Maidstone as they were thought to be very old and valuable.
Libby rushed outside and rang Lewis. His phone went straight to voicemail, so she tried Adam.
‘Has Mog had sight of the original garden designs?’ she said breathlessly.
‘The – what? Whose designs?’ said Adam sharply.
‘Old ones. Very old.’ She heard him call Mog and ask him the same question.
‘No, he didn’t know there were any. Where are they?’
Libby explained and asked if he knew where Lewis was.
‘Closeted with his TV people in the house,’ said Adam. ‘Is it important?’
‘Well,’ said Libby, thinking quickly, ‘if the garden there is going to feature in the series, what better than to have the original designs to work from?’
Excitedly, Adam relayed this to Mog, who then grabbed the phone.
‘Libby? I’m going to interrupt Lewis right now. Where are these drawings?’
‘Maidstone Central Library,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t know whether we need permission to see them. The librarian at Nethergate didn’t think so. I suppose technically they belong to Lewis now, anyway.’
‘Unless they were donated to the library by a former owner,’ said Mog. ‘I’ve known that to happen. Anyway, I’ll go and interrupt Lewis and call you back.’
Would the original designs show the strong room, though, wondered Libby, as she sat on a low wall near the library and waited for Mog’s call. Probably not, if the work was being paid for in 1843. The designs for the garden would date back much further than that. On the other hand, it might show the ice-house, and maybe the strong room without its sophisticated iron door.
Libby was sure in some way that the strong room, like the ice-house, had a role in the Creekmarsh mystery. Was Cindy hidden there before she was killed? Is that where she ran to when she disappeared?
Her phone rang.
‘Libby? Lewis said he didn’t know anything about them, but that we should go and have a look. Do you think we should phone them first?’
‘The library? Perhaps we should. When do you want to go?’
‘Now?’
‘Don’t be daft. We’d not get there in time to have a good look. Tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh.’ Mog sounded deflated. ‘OK. Will you and Ad meet me there?’
‘Yes,’ said Libby, sliding off the wall. ‘I’ll call them when I get home, then I’ll let you know what time.’
Fran rang when Libby reached home.
‘Have we ever seen a photograph of Tony West?’ she asked.
‘Don’t think so,’ said Libby, dumping her basket on the table. ‘Why?’
‘Just a thought,’ said Fran. ‘Would Lewis have one?’
‘Maybe. I know he’s busy at the moment.’ She explained what had happened about the garden design.
‘That’s odd,’ said Fran. ‘That sort of thing’s usually held at the house, isn’t it?’
‘That’s what I thought, but it seems as though either Gerald or someone else cleared it of everything historical.’
‘It was almost derelict when Gerald bought it, wasn’t it? Hadn’t it been used by the military or something during the war?’
‘Yes, so maybe it was cleared of relevant documents then,’ said Libby. ‘What we need is an old portrait or something, like we found at Anderson Place.’
‘There would hardly be port
raits of the people we want to find out about,’ said Fran. ‘Will you ask Lewis about a photo of West?’
‘Later on, I will. When I’m sure he’s free. Why won’t you tell me why you want it?’
‘I’d prejudice you,’ said Fran. ‘This is only a thought.’
As it happened, Libby didn’t have to call Lewis, as he called her about the original garden designs. She explained her theory about the strong room, but he was more interested in the garden.
‘But I thought you must have had the original designs,’ she said, ‘because Adam and Mog are restoring the parterre.’
‘Mog unearthed the layout of that,’ said Lewis, ‘and the whatjer-call-’em fruit trees in the walled garden. Them ones up against a wall.’
‘Espalier?’ suggested Libby.
‘That’s them. All sorts he found, although some are too far gone, but they’re replacing them.’
‘Good,’ said Libby. ‘Now, Lewis, Fran wants to know if you’ve got any pictures of Tony West.’
‘Pictures? Photos? No, ’course I haven’t. What for?’
‘I don’t know, she won’t tell me. Oh, well, I’ll see if I come up with one on the Internet. What did we do without it?’
‘Dunno. Can’t see how anyone can live without it these days. Though I’m not much good at it, but it ain’t half useful.’
‘Certainly is,’ said Libby. ‘Right. Mog and Ad are coming with me tomorrow morning to Maidstone to look at the designs. We’ll find out whether they belong to the library or you. If they belong to you, I expect you’ll have to go and collect them, but at least we’ll be able to have a look tomorrow. Mog’s very excited.’
After Lewis had rung off, Libby made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the computer. Once again she searched for Tony West and came up with the sites she’d found before, augmented by many news sites reporting his murder. She checked all of these to see how much had been released to the public, but apart from mention of Gerald Shepherd and Cindy Dale allegedly running off together, there was no further news of them. Even more odd, thought Libby, there was no mention of Lewis being called in for questioning. It was all being kept very dark.
She found three photographs of West, all taken at media events where he smiled toothily at the camera above a black tie. She emailed Fran the results and then called her to tell her.
‘Do you think Frank would take us to see Gerald?’ asked Fran, after looking at the pictures.
‘What on earth for?’ said Libby. ‘If the police can’t get anything out of him with trained officers what chance would we stand?’
‘I’ve got a theory,’ said Fran stubbornly. ‘I’m going to call Frank.’
‘Fran, you can’t!’ wailed Libby. ‘You’re getting married in a few days’ time. You’ve got things to do.’
‘It’s all done,’ said Fran. ‘If I can organise it, will you come with me?’
‘Well, OK,’ said Libby unwillingly, ‘but not tomorrow morning. I’m going to Maidstone Library to see these garden designs.’
‘Right. I’ll call you when I’ve made arrangements,’ said Fran.
‘You’re quite sure you can, then?’ said Libby.
‘Trust me,’ said Fran and rang off.
By the time Libby and Adam met Mog at Maidstone Central Library she hadn’t heard from Fran, who was now merely days away from her wedding. They were directed to the County Archives section and finally given the fragile plans. Libby asked how the library had got hold of them, which seemed to be an impossible question to answer, judging by the bewildered look on the librarian’s face, but when Mog explained that the current owner of the property would like them back, the expression changed to outrage. He was, however, allowed to copy them and told to write to the archives department for further information.
Libby left them to enthuse over the plans and went outside to wait, punching in Fran’s number on speed dial as she went.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ she said. ‘How did you get on with Frank?’
‘I’m still waiting for an answer,’ said Fran. ‘I left a message with Bren yesterday, but he hasn’t got back to me.’
‘Shall I pop in there after I’ve finished here?’
‘I don’t see what good it would do, but you might as well. I’ll meet you there unless I hear in the meantime. Then I’ll ring you.’
‘OK. Is Guy all right with you galloping around sleuthing?’
‘As long as I’m there on Saturday I don’t think he cares,’ said Fran with a laugh.
Adam came out of the library with large folders and an excited expression.
‘Something that’ll interest you, Ma,’ said Adam. ‘Look.’ He spread one of the plans out on the bonnet of Mog’s van.
Sure enough, once Libby had worked out which way was up, she could see the ice-house and one passage leading from the house. She frowned at it.
‘Only one passage,’ she said. ‘Nothing towards the church or the inn.’
‘Well, there wouldn’t be, would there?’ said Adam reasonably. ‘They would be secret smuggling passages. This one would be official, like.’
‘Hmm.’ Libby peered at the faint markings. ‘No sign of a strong room, either.’
‘Too early, according to what you saw in Nethergate library,’ said Adam.
‘Yes,’ sighed Libby. ‘I just thought there might be something marked that might have been turned into a strong room later – you know with the addition of that iron door, or whatever it was.’
‘Where does the passage to the ice-house come out?’ asked Mog, turning the plan towards him.
‘Under the house,’ said Adam.
‘But it wouldn’t have been under the house, would it? It was a legitimate passage, so needn’t have been hidden.’
‘Is the ha-ha marked?’ said Libby suddenly.
‘No,’ said Mog, peering. ‘No, it isn’t. Why?’
‘Do we know when that was created?’
‘After these designs, presumably,’ said Mog, looking puzzled.
‘Well, the passage was created at this time, and once the ha-ha was formed it would have been exposed, wouldn’t it?’ said Libby. ‘It runs along the edge of the ha-ha where I fell in.’
‘So?’ said Adam, frowning.
‘Actually, I don’t know,’ said Libby, sighing. ‘I wish we could find out where it entered the house, though.’
‘It would have been the kitchens, wouldn’t it?’ said Mog, carefully gathering up the plan.
‘The kitchen’s been checked thoroughly,’ Adam said.
‘But that’s the modern kitchen,’ said Mog. ‘Edwardian, by the look of it.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Libby, turning a look of undisguised admiration on him.
‘There must be cellars where the kitchens were. There are signs of built-up ground round the outside walls.’ He turned to Adam. ‘You remember where it looked as though there was the shape of a lintel on the side facing the wood?’
‘F – blimey, yes!’ said Adam. ‘Have the police looked there?’
‘No, I bet they haven’t,’ said Libby, excited. ‘They’ve been looking in the inhabited part of the house.’
‘We’ll have a look when we get back,’ said Mog. ‘Coming, Mrs S?’
‘I’ve got to meet Fran at The Fox,’ said Libby, ‘but let me know if you find anything.’
Adam went back in the van with Mog and Libby followed slowly in Romeo the Renault. She hadn’t thought of old kitchens, and of course she should have done. The house had been there for centuries and had probably been subject to subsidence, which would mean there were quite likely to be rooms below the present ground floor. In which case, there should be an entrance to them.
Round and round the garden, thought Libby. They’d been here before.
There had been no phone call from Fran by the time she reached The Fox, but the Roller Skate was in the car park. Libby locked the Renault and went in through the back door.
Fran was standing by the bar facing a red-faced
and truculent Frank.
‘Libby,’ she said with relief, turning towards her friend. ‘I’ve been trying to tell Frank –’
‘And I’m saying he’s had enough.’
Libby looked from one to another. ‘Have you told him what you want to ask Gerald?’ she said.
‘No,’ said Fran, looking surprised. ‘Sorry, Frank. I just want to show him some photographs. See if it jogs his memory.’
Frank looked suspicious. ‘What photographs?’
‘Some we found at Creekmarsh and a couple from the Internet.’
‘Show me,’ said Frank.
‘I don’t think –’
‘Or I won’t even think about taking you,’ he said.
Reluctantly, Fran took a buff manila folder from her bag and opened it. ‘There,’ she said, handing over a few pictures. Libby recognised some from the collection at Creekmarsh, and the others as printouts from the Internet. Surprised, she peered over Fran’s shoulder at two pictures of Kenneth, both looking sullen. Cindy Dale was in one of them as a blurred and shadowy figure behind Kenneth’s left shoulder.
‘Can’t see as how he’ll remember any of them,’ said Frank, pushing the photographs about on the bar, ‘but I suppose it can’t hurt, neither.’ He heaved a huge sigh. ‘It’s been a bugger these last years, keeping him quiet.’
‘Keeping him quiet?’ asked Libby.
‘Not him,’ said Frank. ‘Keeping quiet about him.’
‘Why did you?’
‘Not my place to go spilling the beans, is it?’
‘Do you recognise anyone in these pictures?’ asked Fran.
Frank pulled them towards him. ‘Gerald, Tony West and Ken, And that’ll be that little cow Cindy, I s’pose.’ He pointed. ‘Don’t know any of these. Looks like the seventies, doesn’t it? I didn’t know him that far back.’
‘So will you take us to see him?’ Fran gathered up the pictures. Frank looked uneasily towards the kitchen hatch. ‘Bren,’ he called.
Brenda appeared and stuck her head through the hatch with a friendly grin at Fran and Libby.
‘Could you cope without me for an hour?’ Frank reached out a hand to pat her on the arm. She covered his hand with her own.
‘’Course I can,’ she said. ‘Hardly a rush on, is there? Going to take the ladies to see Gerald, are you?’
Murder in Bloom - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series Page 24
