‘Yes, I know. Charles doesn’t remember anything about it.’
‘Charles never saw them. He and his parents lived in Steeple Mount. Thought they were a cut above the rest of us.’ Barbara looked mean for a moment, until a smug expression crossed her face. Fran correctly read it to mean “I showed ’em.”
‘I didn’t know that,’ she said aloud. ‘Was Charles’s father well-off, then?’
‘I don’t know about that, but they lived in a nice house, and he was in business of some kind.’
‘Charles didn’t follow him into the business, then?’
Barbara looked surprised, as well she might, thought Fran.
‘Considering I don’t know what the business was, I have no idea. I didn’t see Charles for years after we’d grown up. Not until Eleanor came down here to The Laurels, in fact.’ Barbara was beginning to look restless now. ‘And I don’t really see what it’s got to do with you. She wasn’t your relative.’
‘No, that’s true. But she wanted to see me, didn’t she? At least, that’s what Charles said.’
‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said Barbara huffily. ‘I don’t think you had any claim on the estate, did you?’
‘If most of it came from my Uncle Frank, I probably did, actually,’ said Fran, not knowing whether this was true or not, but it startled Barbara again. ‘However,’ Fran continued, herself feeling rather smug now, ‘as Frank left me a trust fund, I don’t suppose it matters.’
Barbara gaped. ‘A trust fund? What for?’
‘Because I was his niece, I suppose.’ Fran looked Barbara squarely in the eye. ‘I have to tell you, Barbara, that your aunt was a most unpleasant woman who came between me and my mother and my Uncle Frank. So that she couldn’t touch this money, he had it put into a trust fund for me.’ Fran knew she was assuming, but she agreed with Libby, it seemed right.
‘But that money should have gone to his wife!’
‘No, it should have come to me. It’s a good job she didn’t know about it before he died, isn’t it? Perhaps, after all, a good job he died when he did.’ Fran didn’t believe this for one second, as she was sure Frank would have come back to her and Margaret if he had lived.
‘And what right have you to tell me Aunt Eleanor was an unpleasant woman?’ Barbara was working herself up, now, thought Fran, probably at the thought of being deprived of a half share of all that money in the trust fund.
‘None.’ Fran shrugged. ‘But she was. I saw her being more than unpleasant.’ She stood up. ‘Well, as you don’t remember anything more, I’ll leave you in peace.’
Barbara didn’t say another word as she followed Fran into the hall, but at the door, Fran turned to her.
‘What happened about Mrs Headlam?’ she asked. ‘I heard she was arrested?’
Colour came swiftly into Barbara’s face. ‘Of course she wasn’t. She was merely helping with enquiries. I believe the police thought she was lying about this other will, or whatever it was.’
‘I see.’ Fran nodded. ‘Well, thank you, Barbara. I expect I shall see you at the funeral – whenever that is.’
On impulse, as she drove Romeo out of the Blagstock House drive, Fran turned towards The Laurels. Pushing down the thought that she was turning into Libby, she decided it was time to ask Marion Headlam a few more questions.
There were a few dry leaves blowing across the lawns as Fran drove up towards the house. She had an even more vivid picture of the little old ladies flitting across the gardens, this time with their hair blowing behind them like an Arthur Rackham drawing.
‘Oh, Mrs Castle, I’m so pleased to see you!’ Marion Headlam appeared like a genie almost as soon as Fran set foot inside the hall. ‘Come into my sitting room.’
She looked a lot better than the last time Libby and she had visited. Perhaps police interrogation suited her.
Sitting Fran down on a comfortable sofa, she sat down opposite, perching on the edge of a chair with her hands clasped in her lap.
‘Mrs Castle,’ she said, ‘you’ll never believe it. We’ve found it!’
Chapter Thirty-one
FRAN SAT OPEN-MOUTHED for a long moment. ‘Found it?’ she said. ‘The will?’
Marion Headlam nodded, excitement shining out of her face. ‘The will andthe codicil!’
‘Good heavens.’ Fran was astounded, and all sorts of new scenarios chased themselves through her mind.
‘It was amazing.’ Mrs Headlam was still nodding, then looked doubtful. ‘I’m sorry, did you want something particular?’
‘No, I just wanted to see how you were after – well, you know.’ Well, that was fairly truthful.
‘Would you like some tea?’ Mrs Headlam half rose.
‘No, no thanks, I’m on my way to lunch with someone,’ said Fran, wondering whether she should phone Guy and warn him she might be late. But it would look rude if she interrupted Mrs Headlam, so she just smiled. ‘Please, go on.’
‘Well, apparently,’ the woman began, at last leaning back in her chair, ‘the police were very suspicious about the whole business of the lost will and the codicil. I was the only person who had seen it, and the two witnesses were both killed in road accidents.’
‘Yes, I know that,’ said Fran. ‘You gave us their addresses, and when we tried to get in touch we found out.’
‘Oh, right.’ Marion Headlam nodded again. ‘Well, anyway, I can’t quite work out whether they thought I was lying about the codicil, or that I’d killed poor Mrs Bridges to inherit.’ She shook her head. ‘As if I would. And it would be stupid, wouldn’t it, to kill her if I was lying about the codicil?’
‘Yes, but perhaps they thought you’d fakedthe codicil.’
Marion looked bewildered. ‘But we couldn’t find it. How would anyone know?’
‘I expect that’s what they thought,’ said Fran. ‘Anyway, they sent you home. What happened next?’
‘That inspector – what’s his name?’
‘DCI Murray.’
‘That’s him. He rang me and said someone had found the original will, which had been verified.’
‘Yes, Mr Wade and I found the original will at Mrs Bridges’ old home.’
‘Well, that was it, I thought, especially as I wouldn’t have expected there to be more than one copy, but she definitely had a copy here, because we added the codicil to it. And I know Mr and Mrs Denver had looked for it.’
‘Yes – in the bureau.’
‘They took it away the very next morning, you know.’
‘I know they did, and it was empty. It’s arrived at her old home now.’
‘Well, I didn’t think to look for it anywhere but in her room. The police searched, too.’ Marion Headlam sighed. ‘It was very upsetting, especially for the other residents.’
‘OK,’ said Fran, beginning to get impatient, ‘so where was it found?’
‘That’s the funny thing,’ said Marion. ‘Our Nurse Redding – you remember Nurse Redding? Oh, of course you do. Weren’t you trying to get in touch with her? Or your – er – colleague was, anyway.’
‘Oh, yes, we know Nurse Redding,’ said Fran.
‘Well, Nurse Redding found it. Wasn’t that amazing? And somewhere where we sure we’d searched, and the police, too.’
‘Oh?’ said Fran, already knowing the answer to her next question as clearly as if she’d been there. ‘Where was it?’
‘Where she used to like to sit in the day room. She’d tucked it down the side of an armchair. I just can’t understand why it wasn’t found before. The chairs are checked daily for – er –’ Marion looked uncomfortable.
‘Leakages?’ suggested Fran.
‘Exactly. Anyway, there it was.’
‘When was this?’ asked Fran. ‘I would have thought Mr Wade would have been told, as executor.’
‘Oh, only yesterday. I phoned the police immediately. I think they were rather suspicious that it had turned up, but I’m just relieved. Of course, they can’t confirm it with the witnesses, but they’ve
contacted the solicitor, apparently.’
‘Well, congratulations,’ said Fran. ‘And did it confirm that she’d left money to The Laurels?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Marion, her colour rising. ‘A proportion of her estate.’
That won’t please Barbara and Paul, thought Fran. ‘Well, good luck,’ she said, standing up. ‘I hope the police don’t make any more trouble for you.’
They will, though, she thought, as she went back to the car.
Guy took her to The Sloop for lunch and she gave him an abbreviated version of her morning’s visits.
‘So, you’re investigating again, are you?’ Guy’s brown eyes twinkled at her.
‘No, I’m not at all. I merely went to see Barbara to see if she knew anything about my childhood, and I went to see Mrs Headlam –’
‘Yes?’ prompted Guy.
‘Because I was curious,’ admitted Fran.
‘And now things have changed, haven’t they?’
‘Well, of course they have. This will business changes everything,’ said Fran.
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Nothing much I can do,’ said Fran, ‘but I’ll phone Charles and ask what he’s heard. The police must have notified him, surely, as executor?’
‘I would have thought so.’ Guy looked down at the table and smoothed his discarded napkin. ‘Are you very close? You and Charles?’
‘Eh?’ Fran was shocked. ‘We’ve only just met. I told you, didn’t I?’
‘But you’ve seen a lot of him in the last couple of weeks.’
‘Well, yes, but only because of this whole business. He’s a bit of a wimp.’
Guy looked up. ‘Good,’ he said.
Fran felt suddenly breathless, and bent down to retrieve her bag.
‘I must get going,’ she said.
‘So soon?’
‘I’ve got to get Romeo back.’
‘Romeo?’
‘Libby’s car.’
‘Don’t tell me she’s actually got a name for her car?’ Guy threw his head back and laughed. ‘Well, I’d never have thought it.’
‘I must admit I was surprised. It seems a bit twee for Libby, doesn’t it?’
‘I suppose you never know with old Lib,’ said Guy. ‘She’s a bit –’
‘Mad?’ suggested Fran.
‘Impulsive. Liable to do exactly what she wants without thinking of the consequences.’
‘Oh, I think she does think about the consequences, but her thinking’s slightly skewed.’ Fran stood up. ‘But I’m being disloyal. She’s been an amazing friend to me since I met her.’
‘And to me. Especially now you’re here.’ Guy stood and twinkled at her. Fran felt breathless again.
‘I must go,’ she reiterated. He nodded and stood back for her to go past him towards the door. He paused at the bar to pay their bill, and Fran wondered if she should offer her share.
‘You must come and have dinner at The Pink Geranium,’ she said as he joined her. ‘My treat. As I only live upstairs.’
‘I’d love to,’ he said. ‘When?’
‘Oh,’ said Fran, flustered, ‘I don’t know. What’s today?’
‘Friday. What are you doing tonight?’
‘Um – nothing.’
‘Eight o’clock? Shall I ring on your doorbell?’
Fran swallowed. ‘I’ll meet you in the restaurant,’ she said.
She related most of this to Libby, leaving out the conversations with Guy.
‘That’s a turn-up for the books, isn’t it?’ said Libby. ‘Very suspicious, that will turning up like that.’
‘I really don’t think Marion Headlam had anything to do with it. She was almost girlishly excited.’
‘Yuck,’ said Libby.
‘Anyway, I knew before she told me it was Redding. She took it out of a pocket and pretended to find it down the side of a chair.’
‘You saw her?’
‘In my head, yes. Just like the cellar steps. I wonder why?’
‘Why you saw her, or why did she do it? I can’t think. She’s not affected by the will one way or another, is she?’ Libby got down stiffly from her perch on the kitchen table.
‘Perhaps she is,’ said Fran thoughtfully, ‘if The Laurels can’t keep going she loses her job.’
‘Oh, yes. But she’d easily get another job, wouldn’t she? Nurses are in such demand.’
‘Perhaps she doesn’t think she can, for some reason.’
‘This really needs talking through, Fran,’ said Libby. ‘Why don’t you come over for a drink tonight?’
‘Guy’s coming over for dinner at Harry’s tonight,’ said Fran, after a pause.
‘Hey!’ Libby was delighted. ‘Way to go, Franny.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ said Fran.
‘Sorry. Well, OK, then, how about now?’
‘Libby, I’ve been out practically all day. I want to relax a bit before having to doll myself up for tonight.’
‘OK.’ Libby looked over at Ben. ‘Can I tell Ben?’
‘Yes, of course. Talk it through with him.’
‘I will. Have a lovely evening.’
Libby went and peered over Ben’s shoulder. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Fine. There’s actually another wireless user near here, and I’ve asked permission to use it while yours is being set up.’
‘What does that mean?’
Ben explained. Libby understood that she could, at least some of the time, use the internet, but beyond that the finer details escaped her.
‘Are you staying for supper?’ she asked.
‘I did ask if I could come round tonight, remember.’ Ben peered over his glasses at her.
‘You didn’t mention food, though.’
Ben leered at her. ‘Oh, no?’
‘Stop it!’ Libby laughed. ‘So I’ll throw something together, shall I? I want to talk to you, anyway.’
Ben groaned. ‘This would be to do with the marathon conversation you’ve just had with Fran, I take it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fine. You cook, I’ll play with the computer, we’ll light the fire, and you can talk me to death.’
Libby grinned. ‘Done,’ she said.
Chapter Thirty-two
HARRY LEERED SUGGESTIVELY AT Fran when Guy appeared to join her at the restaurant. He settled them on the sofa in the window to wait for their table, and raised an eyebrow at Guy’s request for mineral water.
‘I’ve got to drive back to Nethergate tonight,’ said Guy.
‘Pity,’ said Harry.
Fran, with flaming cheeks, asked for a glass of red wine.
‘I think Harry wants to promote my cause,’ said Guy, as he watched the tall elegant figure weaving its way through the other tables.
Fran opened her mouth to ask what cause, then thought better of it.
‘So, what did Libby have to say about your revelations?’
‘She wanted to talk it through. I told her to discuss it with Ben. Not that it’s got anything to do with her.’
Guy smiled. ‘That doesn’t usually stop her,’ he said.
‘No, and it’s been good to have someone to talk things over with, but the police are on the case, and we mustn’t interfere.’
‘Even if you know something they don’t?’
Fran shook her head. ‘They wouldn’t believe what I know.’
Guy looked thoughtful. ‘I let it go at the time, and you haven’t brought it up since, but you mentioned something about “seeing” something which you couldn’t have seen, and Libby referred to it as one of your “moments”.’ He looked at her. ‘Can I ask now what it was about?’
Fran sighed. ‘I suppose so. It’s how I earn a meagre living, and the police know about it, so there’s no reason for you not to, but I quite understand if you’re sceptical.’
‘Who am I to doubt the word of the police?’ Guy covered her hand with his and squeezed. ‘Tell away.’
Fran explained briefly about her jo
b with Goodall and Smythe and DCI Murray’s interest. ‘I think quite a lot of police forces use people like me occasionally,’ she finished. ‘Not very openly, it’s true, but if something helps it’s worth trying, isn’t it?’
‘And what is it you’ve seen that he won’t believe now?’
‘Nurse Redding concealing the new will. Or rather, planting it. Which means she had been concealing it before.’
‘Well, you’ve got to tell the police,’ said Guy. ‘It puts a whole new complexion on the matter.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Fran sighed again, ‘but they can hardly go and charge her with something because I’ve had some sort of a vision, can they? And then there’s Eleanor and the cellar steps.’
Guy looked slightly bemused by the time Donna came to take them to their table.
‘I think you should have talked it over with Libby,’ he said. ‘I’m having difficulty following it all.’
‘But you were coming over,’ said Fran. ‘She wanted me to go for a drink this evening.’
‘We could go round after dinner,’ suggested Guy.
‘Oh,’ said Fran, trying not to sound disappointed.
‘If you really wanted to, that is. I’d prefer to have you to myself, but this sounds urgent.’
Fran smiled with relief. ‘Oh, no. It’ll keep. After all, now the police know the will’s been found, they’ll look again at Mrs Headlam and Nurse Redding, I should think. They’ll find anything there is to find.’
‘Oh, I meant to tell you,’ said Guy, as Donna set their first courses in front of them, ‘Sophie said she saw her old school friend, the other nurse, yesterday with her boyfriend.’
‘Really? I think Libby gave up on trying to talk to her. I expect the police will, though.’
‘Will they?’
‘Oh, yes. Now the will’s turned up, they’ll ask everything all over again.’
‘God, how boring.’ Guy turned his attention to his food. ‘This is good, Fran. Why have I never been here before?’
Fran realised she was getting used to dining with Guy by the ease with which they maintained both conversation and comfortable silences throughout the meal. Harry was on hand – far too frequently – to top up glasses and enquire about the food, until Guy gave him a charming smile and an explicit instruction. Harry roared with laughter and took himself off to the kitchen.
Murder at the Laurels - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series Page 24
