Murder at the Laurels - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series

by Lesley Cookman

  Libby had a very good time. Peter and his brother James arrived, and at the end of the meal Harry staggered in with left-over desserts from the restaurant. As she had done before, Libby helped Ben load the dishwasher, leaving the “pots” as Hetty called them, to Hetty herself. While they worked, Libby brought Ben up to date on Fran’s sudden co-option onto the police force.

  ‘So all your investigations turned out to be unnecessary,’ said Ben. ‘The police found it all out, too.’

  Libby flicked a tea towel at him. ‘Yes, but we didfind out. Which is much cleverer of us, because we haven’t got their resources. And this could be a very good thing for us.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘When we go into business,’ said Libby, and told him about Harry’s hare-brained suggestion. ‘Fran’s not keen, but I think it could work,’ she finished defiantly.

  Ben roared with laughter.

  Libby bristled. ‘I don’t see what’s so funny,’ she said, banging the dishwasher door shut.

  ‘Oh, my darling, no, you wouldn’t,’ said Ben, wrapping his arms round her and resting his cheek against hers. ‘That’s why I love you.’

  Libby held her breath. Ben, too, had gone still, as though he belatedly realised what he’d said. Then, he eased her away from him.

  ‘Sorry, Lib. That wasn’t the way to do it, was it?’ He kissed her nose and sighed. ‘But I’m afraid I do.’

  Libby tried to speak and discovered there was something in her throat. Swallowing hard, she nodded, and found her eyes were smarting, too.

  ‘Hey, don’t cry!’ Ben pulled her back against him. ‘Is it so terrible?’

  ‘Eyeuffoo,’ said Libby against his chest.

  ‘Pardon?’

  She pulled away and wiped her eyes. ‘I love you, too,’ she said.

  After that, they forgot the dishwasher, the family and Fran’s elevation to police informer. Much later, in bed at Number 17 Allhallow’s Lane, Libby remembered her mobile, and reaching across Ben, fished it out of her basket.

  ‘Oh, dear, I forgot,’ she said, switching it on. ‘And there’s a message from Fran, too. Bother.’

  ‘cn I brro car in morn see Warner?’ said the message.

  ‘I’ll drive u,’ replied Libby.

  ‘Fran’s thought of something,’ she told Ben. ‘See? I bet we could be detectives.’

  The phone woke Libby just before seven o’clock.

  ‘Why don’t you get an upstairs phone?’ grumbled Ben, as she stumbled out of the bedroom and fell down the first two steps. Sidney, delighted to see her so early, wound himself round her legs and nearly caused further disaster. The answerphone cut in, and she had to yell over the top of herself to make sure she was heard.

  ‘All right, all right, I can hear you.’

  ‘Fran. You’re a bit early.’

  ‘You said you’d drive me. I want to get to Sue Warner’s before Paul leaves.’

  ‘Paul?’

  ‘Presumably he takes her home every morning, like he did yesterday.’

  ‘OK, why?’

  ‘I’ve thought of something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  ‘Oh, all right. I’ll get dressed. See you in about half an hour.’

  ‘I’ll walk round to you. I’m up and dressed already,’ said Fran.

  ‘Hmph,’ said Libby.

  By the time Fran arrived, Libby was showered and dressed, eating a slice of toast, and Ben was in the shower. She shouted goodbye, received a gargled reply and went out to the car.

  ‘So what’s all this about?’ she asked, as she set off on the now all-too-familiar road to Nethergate.

  ‘Something’s not right. It’s Sue Warner. I want to see on her home ground and see if anything happens.’

  ‘Warner?’

  ‘She’s lying. Trouble is, I don’t know what about.’

  ‘But you haven’t even spoken to her. How on earth do you know that she’s lying?’

  Fran sighed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I just know. Look, lets go over it again. Barbara and Paul both told us Paul left his mother to pick up Sue Warner after the book club people arrived at Blagstock House.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Libby, ‘and Sue Warner confirmed it, apparently.’

  ‘But how did she know when he left Blagstock House?’

  ‘Oh.’ Libby glanced sideways, startled. ‘Well, I suppose by knowing how long it took to get to her place from there.’

  ‘We know it only takes five minutes in a car, we did it yesterday,’ said Fran, ‘so he must have arrived at about – what? – twenty to or twenty-five to eight?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he got home just before nine. That’s a long time.’

  ‘Well, perhaps they didn’t go straight to The Laurels. Perhaps they – er – well, you know.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Fran. ‘I just think there’s something wrong somewhere.’

  Libby sighed. ‘I really don’t know why. Paul left his mum with her book group, drove to get his girlfriend, spent some time with her, took her to work and went straight back to Mum and the book group. Mum’s got an alibi, he’s got an alibi, girlfriend’s got an alibi. Headlam hasn’t.’

  ‘How do we know she hasn’t?’ asked Fran. ‘For all we know, she’d gone off duty and was in the company of several unimpeachable witnesses.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Libby grumpily. ‘I still don’t know why you think Warner’s lying. About what, for goodness’ sake?’

  ‘I’ll find out,’ said Fran, and turned her face to the window.

  They drove the rest of the way in silence and parked a little way from the red brick villa in a resident’s parking place. ‘If we get done, I’ll make Murray pay the fine,’ muttered Libby, locking Romeo and given him an encouraging pat.

  ‘That’s Paul’s car,’ said Fran. ‘I saw it at Blagstock House.’

  Libby eyed the low-slung silver sports car with distaste. ‘Think how difficult they are to get out of,’ she said.

  Fran gave her a look, and rang the bell marked Warner.

  Paul’s face was a study as he opened the door.

  ‘Sorry, Paul, but I need to ask your young lady a few questions,’ said Fran, pushing past him, Libby gamely trundling behind. Too surprised to stop them, Paul followed them up the stairs, to where Sue Warner, still in uniform, stood looking terrified.

  ‘Now, what’s all this about?’ said Paul, recovering and going to put an arm round her.

  ‘Just a couple of questions,’ said Fran.

  ‘Who do you think you are?’ said Paul, beginning to look angry. Libby noticed Nurse Warner flinch as his hand tightened on her shoulder. ‘You’re not the police!’

  ‘All right, Paul, all right,’ said Fran, showing remarkable composure under the circumstances, Libby thought. ‘I just wanted to know what time you got here on Saturday night?’

  ‘Well, why don’t you ask me? What’s it got to do with her?’ Libby could swear Paul’s eyes were glittering now.

  ‘All right, I’m asking you. What time did you get here?’

  ‘About twenty to eight,’ said Paul.

  ‘Half past seven,’ said Nurse Warner.

  They looked at each other.

  ‘Somewhere around there, anyway,’ said Paul.

  Libby felt a horrible sinking sensation in her stomach and nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice behind her said: ‘Not half past seven.’

  Libby and Fran turned to see Barbara coming up the stairs behind them.

  ‘Mum!’ Paul let go of Nurse Warner and pushed between Libby and Fran to grasp his mother’s arm.

  ‘Silly little bitch,’ said Barbara, conversationally. ‘I knew what you’d been up to, you know.’

  ‘What?’ Fran stood between Barbara and Sue Warner and Libby tried to blend in with the wallpaper.

  ‘She was with him in Eleanor’s room, you know. The day she died.’

  ‘I know,’ said Fran, ‘and Nurse Redding
found them.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ asked Barbara.

  ‘She told me,’ said Fran. ‘So, why couldn’t it have been half past seven?’

  ‘He was with me.’ Barbara’s eyes were looking a little wild.

  ‘Yes, Nurse Warner, he was,’ said Fran. ‘All the other ladies confirm it.’

  Nurse Warner looked as if she were going to faint. Libby thoughtfully pushed a chair towards her and she collapsed onto it.

  ‘So, twenty to eight, Paul?’ said Fran, watching him as He nodded. ‘Did you go straight to The Laurels?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nurse Warner.

  ‘No,’ said Paul, and looked at Sue Warner as though he’d never seen her before. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

  ‘That would appear to be that, then, Mrs Castle,’ said a new voice, and DCI Murray now appeared on the stairs, followed by Inspector Connell. Libby caught a glimpse of uniform boots outside the front door and felt her breathing return to normal.

  ‘Well, well. Not quite the same story then, eh, Miss Warner?’ Murray bent over her solicitously. ‘What time did you go on duty? Quarter to nine, wasn’t it?’

  Slowly, Sue Warner nodded.

  ‘Took a long time to get to work, then, didn’t it?’

  He turned to Fran. ‘Well, Mrs Castle?’

  ‘If you could get someone to look in the wheelie bin, Mr Murray,’ she said.

  ‘They were checked,’ growled Inspector Connell. Libby gazed at him admiringly.

  ‘Near a hedge. A few doors down,’ said Fran calmly.

  DCI Murray frowned as Inspector Connell clattered down the stairs. ‘Should have been more thorough,’ he said.

  Fran shook her head. ‘It wasn’t there before,’ she said.

  ‘Where was it?’

  ‘I’m not absolutely sure,’ said Fran. ‘Perhaps Barbara could tell us?’

  Libby gaped. Barbara began to make noises like a stranded fish. She certainly looked like one. Behind them, Inspector Connell came clattering back up the stairs.

  ‘Here,’ he said, holding out a grubby black object.

  Barbara screamed.

  ‘It wasn’t half past seven, was it Mrs Denver?’ said Murray quietly. ‘Your ladies arrived at seven.’

  Libby looked at Paul, who now stared at his mother, his face grey.

  ‘And you arrived hereat nearly half past eight, Paul,’ said Fran. ‘Where were you all that time?’

  A silence that seemed to stretch the nerves was finally broken by another scream from Barbara, Nurse Warner slumping to the floor and Paul trying to run through the flat and out on to the fire escape. Fran moved over to Libby and collapsed against her friend. Libby gave her a hug and discovered that she was trembling.

  Paul was brought back through the flat in handcuffs, Barbara and Nurse Warner were attended to by kind and sensible-looking police constables, and Fran and Libby were escorted downstairs by Murray and Connell.

  ‘Told you so,’ said Murray to Connell, triumphantly. ‘I said she’d come up trumps.’

  Connell looked at Fran and suddenly held out his hand. He’s really quite attractive, thought Libby.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Castle,’ he said.

  ‘So what exactly did you do and how did you do it,’ said Libby, driving Romeo carefully out of Nethergate and feeling rather light-headed.

  ‘I wondered if there was a discrepancy between the time Paul left Blagstock House and arrived at Sue Warner’s. Then I wondered if Warner was lying to save her own skin. It was terribly confusing. And I kept seeing this cloak. That was the only thing I actually saw, in the way Murray wanted me to, and then, when I was asleep, I had that dream again, the one I had in the train, where I saw a face over Eleanor’s shoulder. Remember, I told you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And it was Paul.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘He was searching for the will, I suppose, and Eleanor had to be kept quiet.’

  ‘And last night?’

  ‘I expect he called Redding after I’d seen her on Saturday, or she called him, and he seduced her into taking him along. I don’t know. Murray’ll tell us. Now, just let’s go home. I could sleep for a week.’

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  FRAN HELD A LITTLE drinks party on the Tuesday night. She had refused to talk to anyone, except briefly to Guy and Libby to say she would tell them all about it together, as it would save breath, and anyway, she would be out most of Tuesday. Harry left Donna in charge of the restaurant, and he and Peter gave everyone champagne and then sat on the floor. Ben sat on the arm of Libby’s chair, Guy sat next to Fran on the sofa and Libby was given dispensation to smoke.

  ‘Later,’ said Libby. ‘Go on, Fran, tell us what happened.’

  ‘This is pieced together from what Barbara, Paul, Warner and Headlam have said to the police. Murray seems to have got it more or less right.’ She took a deep breath and a sip of champagne. ‘Apparently, what happened was that Paul learnt from Sue Warner that Eleanor had made this codicil. He and his mother decided they would have to find it, and either get Eleanor to change her mind or destroy it. As far as anyone knew, there wasn’t another copy. And there wasn’t, by the way, but it was quite legal.

  ‘Paul’s habit was to push Eleanor outside the french windows “for a breath of air” and then search her room. According to Warner, Redding found him doing this, and he charmed her into submission. He wasn’t above actually using Eleanor’s bed if the need arose.’

  Harry snorted. Everyone looked at him.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So she began to pursue him, and because he still wanted her on his side, he went along with it, at the same time carrying on his affair with Warner. On Eleanor’s birthday, Redding actually found the will and the codicil and took it, intending to give it to Paul, which is why she burst in on him with Warner, not knowing Warner was there. Furious, she ordered Warner out, then the bell rang and she went off to let Barbara in. Paul, still not knowing the will had been found, brought Eleanor back in and started a hasty search, but Eleanor must have kicked up a fuss. So he smothered her. Then left through the french windows, doubled back and was seen entering as if for the first time by the gardener.

  ‘Neither of the nurses said anything about him being there because of the circumstances.’

  ‘What about the two witnesses?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Warner had their names, so he tracked them down not long after the codicil was written.’

  ‘How did the police connect him to their deaths?’ asked Peter.

  ‘Murray told me they’d done all the forensics and knew what sort of car had been used, but no one connected to the case had a car like it, and nothing had been reported as stolen. Once they decided Paul was the murderer (before we did, Libby) they started to go through people he might have known who had that sort of car.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have borrowed a car, surely?’ said Harry.

  ‘No, but he did hire one,’ said Fran.

  ‘How bloody stupid,’ said Peter. ‘He must have known he’d be caught.’

  ‘Apparently, there are some dubious car-hire operations who don’t ask to see driving licences, but ask for huge deposits. He used one of those in London.’

  ‘So how did the police find it? The hire firm, I mean?’ said Libby.

  ‘The indispensable police computer, I gather,’ grinned Fran. ‘When leant on, the owner didn’t know nuffink, just tried to help people out, like.’

  ‘So did they get DNA off it?’ asked Harry.

  ‘I think so. That sort of clinched it.’

  ‘So the will was valid, was it?’ said Libby, returning to the main theme.

  ‘Oh, yes. The handwriting was Marion Headlam’s, by the way, but signed properly by Eleanor.’

  ‘Why couldn’t anyone find it?’ asked Guy.

  ‘She’d hidden it down the side of a drawer, much like she’d hidden the will in London. Redding took it home with her after the murder. She put it back because she was
still angry with Paul and suspected he and his mother might inherit. Her job was important to her after her disgrace at the hospital.’

  ‘What disgrace?’ asked Harry, looking interested.

  Everyone looked at him again.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ he said, and sank back against the wall. Peter patted him on the leg.

  ‘When I went to see her on Saturday morning – God, it seems a lifetime away – she decided on a bit of blackmail, Murray says. So she phoned him up, and he then went round to her flat, seduced her all over again, and asked if he could go to the meeting with her that night.’

  ‘If he was in her flat, why didn’t he kill her there?’ asked Peter.

  ‘It was daylight, he could have been seen going in or out, and he’d leave DNA.’ Fran shrugged. ‘That’s what I think, anyway. So he left his mother’s just after seven, when her ladies came – and why she thought they’d all agree that they didn’t arrive until seven thirty, I don’t know – went to pick Redding and the cloaks up, and off they went. They were naked under the cloaks, you know.’

  Harry’s face brightened and he opened his mouth. Everyone looked at him again.

  ‘So, after he’d garrotted her –’ Fran’s audience shifted uncomfortably, ‘– he threw her clothes into the woods, put his own clothes on, and went off to pick up Nurse Warner and take her to work. Then home to Mummy, where he hid the cloak.’

  ‘Did Mummy know any of this?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Murray thinks she knew most of it, which was why she was so scared.’

  ‘So Warner was lying about him getting there at seven thirty?’ asked Peter, with the air of one manfully trying to keep up.

  ‘Yes. That was what I’d picked up on, obviously, although I didn’t actually know. After the police had asked Paul about his movements, they rang Nurse Warner at The Laurels.’

  ‘On Saturday night?’ asked Guy.

  ‘Yes. But Paul got in first and asked her to lie for him.’

  ‘Why on earth did she? She must have known then what was going on,’ said Libby.

  ‘Search me. I think she was frightened of him. And she was infatuated, of course. Oh – and she thought he was going to be rich.’

  ‘So,’ said Peter, frowning, ‘let’s get this straight. He left Mummy just after seven, picked up Nurse Redding, took her to the woods, killed her and went to Nurse Warner’s by twenty past eight, then back home just before nine. So both Barbara and Nurse Warner were lying to protect him.’