‘Only came and asked me some general questions, like,’ said Frank.
‘And you didn’t tell them you knew Gerald Shepherd.’
There was complete silence while Frank stared at Fran as though mesmerized.
‘Or,’ Fran continued with her fingers crossed, ‘that you still visited him in a home because he has Alzheimer’s disease.’
‘How do you know?’ Frank’s voice was almost a whisper and he leant forward so that Libby could see the veins standing out on his neck. She pushed herself back in her chair.
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ said Fran. ‘And you’ve been doing it to protect him, haven’t you?’
‘He was my mate,’ said Frank truculently.
‘Still is, obviously,’ said Fran. ‘But don’t you see you could have helped the police find out the truth? They thought that skeleton was him at first.’
‘I could have told them it wasn’t,’ said Frank scornfully.
‘Then why on earth didn’t you?’
He looked awkward. ‘I promised.’
‘Promised who?’ Libby said in surprise.
‘Gerry. Him and me was mates years ago, see, in London, and when he went into this home he didn’t want everyone to know. He wasn’t that far gone, then, see.’
‘So you knew all about him going missing, supposedly?’ Fran looked astonished.
‘Oh, yeah. It fitted with Ken’s wife going off and the papers put two and two together. That’s when I promised, see. Ken said he’d look for her –’
‘Ken said?’ echoed Libby.
‘Yeah. It was Tony who organised the home, see, while Ken was in that telly thing.’
‘Tony West?’ said Libby faintly. Why on earth hadn’t the police been to see this man?
‘Yeah. Another old mate, he was. Can’t believe he’s gone.’ Frank shook his head. ‘Anyway, when Ken come out, he went straight down to see Gerald, and when he got back to the house Cindy was gone.’
‘So he started looking for her?’
‘He made a show of it,’ said Frank. ‘He couldn’t have cared less, really, she was a grasping little bitch. Anyway, then he goes off, and that was it. Didn’t think any more about it. I just kept visiting Gerry. I asked Tony why Ken didn’t come any more and he said he didn’t know where he was.’
‘So when they put out that the skeleton was probably Kenneth, and Tony West had been murdered, you didn’t come forward?’
Frank’s cheeks became pink. ‘I didn’t want to get involved,’ he said. ‘Poor old Gerry. Don’t know what’s going on these days.’
‘What about the people who look after him?’ asked Fran. ‘Why haven’t they said anything?’
‘They don’t know who he is,’ said Frank.
‘But they’d need all his medical records,’ said Libby, ‘how can they not? You can’t go into a home under a false name.’
‘He didn’t,’ said Frank, surprisingly. ‘We just said it was the same name as the actor and they believed us. ’Course, poor bugger was looking old then, not even like he was in that Collateral Damage.’
‘Well.’ Fran sat back. ‘You’re going to have to talk to the police now, Frank.’
‘Why?’ The truculent manner was back.
‘Because Cindy Dale came back.’
‘That cow?’ Frank’s fists bunched. ‘You wait till I see her.’
‘But now she’s gone again.’
‘Gone?’ Frank looked bewildered.
‘They questioned her about Kenneth’s murder – or supposed murder – then let her go and she vanished. We don’t know where she’s gone.’
Frank pulled at his lower lip. ‘I reckon I’ll have to think about this,’ he said.
Libby leant forward. ‘Frank,’ she said, ‘Cindy told them Gerry killed Kenneth.’
‘What?’ Frank looked, eyes blazing. ‘Fuck’s sake. I’ll soon put that right.’ He stood up. ‘All right, ladies. I don’t know how you managed to get on to me when no one else has, but you’re right. I’ll go to the police. Who should I speak to?’
‘Superintendent Bertram,’ said Libby, with a grin, ‘and don’t forget to tell her we sent you!’
Chapter Twenty-eight
THE FOLLOWING MORNING LIBBY remembered she hadn’t asked Frank where Gerald Shepherd was. He answered the phone on the first ring.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said.
‘Who were you expecting?’ asked Libby.
‘The police,’ said Frank. ‘I phoned ’em this morning. Yes, I know I said I’d get on to them straight away, but I didn’t think one more day would hurt, and I wanted to talk it over with Bren. So I phoned this morning.’
‘And they said they’d phone you back?’
‘I asked for that Bertram, and they said she was in London. So I left a message that it was about Gerald Shepherd and they said someone would call me back straight away.’
‘So I’d better get off the line,’ said Libby, ‘but before I do, where’s the home Gerald’s in?’ ‘Why should I tell you that?’ Frank was cautious. ‘You’re not to go and see him, now.’ ‘I just wondered how far away it was,’ said Libby.
‘Not far. He used to be in a place called The Laurels, but they had a murder there a coupla years ago, so we moved him.’
‘Hmm,’ said Libby. She knew all about The Laurels. ‘So where is he now?’
‘What do you want to know for?’
‘I wondered if Cindy would go after him,’ said Libby.
‘Why? She wouldn’t know where he was, anyway.’
‘Oh, I think she might,’ said Libby, with a sigh.
‘I’ll tell the police. He’ll be safe enough.’
Libby had to give in. Frank was probably right to keep the secret for that bit longer, although how the police were going to see it was another matter. She hoped they didn’t charge him with obstruction. Then she called Adam.
‘Any news from Lewis?’
‘Not sure,’ said Adam, sounding puzzled. ‘We had the police round here again this morning, although they didn’t talk to us. They were going over the inside of the house again. Then Mog got a text from Lewis saying he’s delayed.’
‘By what?’ said Libby.
‘Didn’t say. The message just said “Delayed”. Mog texted back and so did I, but nothing else and now his phone’s switched off.’
‘Have you tried Katie?’
‘Haven’t got her number,’ said Adam. ‘We thought of that, and we were going to go and look for it in the house, but the police were there.’
‘Were you expecting him back today?’
‘No, which is even funnier. He hadn’t said anything about coming back.’
‘Looks like some kind of message,’ said Libby slowly.
Adam snorted. ‘Yeah, Ma – a text message.’
‘You know what I mean. Something must have happened and he wanted to let you know – or warn you, perhaps – and that was all he had time to do.’
‘You think something’s happened to him?’ Adam sounded alarmed.
‘I was wondering about the police, actually.’
‘The police? Why?’
‘Because Big Bertha’s gone to London.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I have my sources,’ grinned Libby. ‘Let me know if you hear anything.’
Next she called Fran and told her what she had learned so far.
‘West’s murder,’ said Fran. ‘Oh, dear.’
‘You think that’s what it is? But Lewis said they weren’t interested in him for that.’
‘They must have found some new evidence.’ Fran was silent for a moment. ‘Libby, I’m sure there’s a weapon involved.’
‘A weapon?’
‘It look
s like an outsized darning mushroom.’
‘You can see it?’
‘I think so,’ said Fran, sounding doubtful. ‘It popped into my head as soon as you told me about Lewis’s message. I should think he’s being questioned by the police about it.’
‘Heavens,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder what they’ll do next.’
‘Send someone to see Frank, I expect,’ said Fran. ‘I wonder who it’ll be?’
‘I bet I know,’ said Libby.
Ian Connell called Fran at lunchtime.
‘Not that I expect you to tell me,’ he said in a weary voice, ‘but just how did you get on to Frank Cole?’
‘At The Fox?’ said Fran warily.
‘Of course at The Fox.’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Fran.
‘I bet it is,’ said Ian. ‘Are you lunching with your fiancé?’
‘Er – no,’ said Fran, waggling her eyebrows at Guy, who was poring over seating plans.
‘May I take you to lunch then?’
‘Yes, OK. Where? It isn’t going to be an inquisition, is it?’
‘The Sloop,’ said Ian, ‘and of course it’ll be an inquisition.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ asked Guy, when she explained.
‘No,’ sighed Fran. ‘It’ll be awkward enough as it is, without you firing up in my defence all the time.’
‘That’s what I get for being the protective male,’ said Guy, dropping a kiss on her head. ‘Go on, go and tart yourself up and make him see what he’s missing.’
Ian was already in the bar at The Sloop when Fran walked in. He stood up and held a chair for her.
‘Drink?’ he said.
‘Orange juice, please,’ said Fran, much though she would have loved a gin and tonic.
‘So tell me what you and the inestimable Mrs Sarjeant have been up to this time,’ he said, after they had ordered. Fran sat back in her chair and looked at him.
‘You’ll only be angry,’ she said. ‘And we came across Frank completely by accident. We were looking for tunnels.’
‘Tunnels? You found him in a tunnel?’
‘Not quite.’ Fran giggled at the thought. She explained about the ice-house and smuggling tunnels, and the coincidence of Libby talking to George at The Red Lion.
‘I expect the police have been looking for tunnels, too, haven’t they?’ she said innocently. ‘They were there again this morning.’
‘Tunnels, no.’ Ian looked thoughtful. ‘Was this something to do with your – er – thoughts?’
‘Not really,’ said Fran, ‘although there was something else.’ She looked down at the table and played with her glass. ‘I saw a sort of, um, implement when I heard Lewis had been delayed in London.’
‘Delayed? How did you hear that?’ Ian’s voice was sharp.
‘He texted Mog. Libby’s son’s boss.’ Fran looked up at him anxiously. ‘Is there something wrong?’
Ian’s mouth twisted. ‘You could say that,’ he said.
‘Well, tell me, then,’ said Fran.
The waitress arrived with their food and smiled fetchingly at Ian, who scowled.
‘All I can say is that he is helping with enquiries,’ he said, cutting savagely into a sausage.
‘New evidence,’ said Fran, spearing a lettuce leaf. ‘The weapon?’
Ian glared at her. ‘All right, yes, but don’t you dare tell anyone.’
‘Not even Libby?’ said Fran sweetly.
Ian cast his eyes to heaven. ‘I would like to say especially not Libby, but there would be no point.’
Fran nodded and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Did Frank tell you Shepherd used to be at The Laurels?’
‘He did. I was charmed at the coincidence.’
Fran laughed. ‘Poor Ian,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry we’re such a nuisance. We do try not to get involved.’
‘Not hard enough,’ said Ian with a reluctant smile. ‘Come on, tell me what else you’ve been thinking about this business.’
So Fran told him everything she and Libby had thought and done since Adam first told his mother about the skeleton.
‘And I began to wonder about Cindy,’ she concluded, ‘because I think she saw Tony West before she claimed to have arrived on Sunday.’
‘She didn’t claim to, she did arrive on Sunday,’ said Ian. ‘That’s proven.’
‘Then she came over before. Have you checked that?’
‘Why are you so sure?’ asked Ian. ‘Or is that a silly question?’
‘She said nothing about West when she first arrived at Creekmarsh, then flew into hysterics when she first heard he was dead. None of it rang true. I was sure I could see her at West’s. In fact, I was almost certain she was his killer.’
Ian stared. ‘I wish I could tell them all this in London,’ he said. ‘They’re questioning Osbourne-Walker about it now.’
‘Don’t you think that’s a coincidence too far? The current owner of Creekmarsh killing the man who had power of attorney to sell it to him just after the body –’
‘All right, all right,’ said Ian, ‘don’t get so complicated. But the evidence is incontrovertible.’
‘So what is it?’ asked Fran, pushing her plate away.
‘The murder weapon. It belongs to Osbourne-Walker.’
‘They found it?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Where?’
‘Come on, Fran, I’ve already told you more than I should. What was this weapon you – er – saw?’
‘It was like a sort of enlarged darning mushroom,’ said Fran, sketching with her hands.
Ian’s eyes widened. ‘It’s a handmade carver’s mallet, a really unusual one,’ he said. ‘And that’s just what it looks like. It’s an antique.’
Fran nodded. ‘And Tony West gave it to him, didn’t he?’
Ian’s mouth fell open. ‘I give up,’ he said. ‘I’ll call London and ask them to look for Dale’s fingerprints. There were a few there that they couldn’t match.’
‘Suppose you could prove Dale had been there. Could you prove whether or not she killed West?’ asked Fran.
‘We’d have a damn good try.’ Ian pushed his chair back. ‘I don’t want to hurry you, but I think I ought to get on to this straight away.’
Fran stood up. ‘So do I,’ she said.
‘Oh, and Fran, thank you,’ he said as they left The Sloop, ‘but if you ever breathe a word that I’m gullible enough to listen to you, I’ll clap you in jail.’
‘You’ve listened before,’ said Fran, ‘it even got into the papers. If I’m right it won’t matter, but if I’m not, I’ll keep quiet as long as you do.’
Ian kissed her cheek. ‘Deal,’ he said. ‘I’m a very bad policeman.’
‘How did it go?’ asked Guy when Fran went into the gallery to report.
‘All right, I suppose,’ she said, perching on the table he used as a desk. ‘He’s going to follow up a suggestion I made. But I mustn’t talk about it.’
‘Not even to me?’
‘Not even to Libby, according to Ian,’ said Fran.
‘But you will,’ laughed Guy.
‘Of course,’ said Fran, ‘and I’ll tell you, too.’
Later, she called Libby and told her everything Ian had said, including the warning about spreading the glad tidings.
‘Cheek!’ said Libby indignantly. ‘After all we’ve done for him.’
‘Not that much, actually, Lib, but I convinced him with my description of the murder weapon, so he was willing to give it a go. He’ll take a lot of flack if they don’t find any evidence of Cindy being in that house.’
‘Will he let you know if they do?’
‘I don’t know whether he’ll be able to, but I exp
ect he’ll try.’ Fran paused. ‘He’s really very sweet, you know.’
‘Hey!’ said Libby warningly. ‘Wedding day two weeks away, remember.’
‘He’s still sweet,’ said Fran. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘Have they seen Gerald Shepherd yet?’
‘He didn’t say,’ said Fran. ‘They’ll probably need specially trained officers, won’t they?’
‘Well, I suppose we’ll find out all about it soon,’ said Libby with a sigh. ‘If Lewis comes back it means they no longer suspect him. Oh, and you didn’t tell me Tony West gave him the mallet.’
‘It only came to me while I was talking to Ian,’ said Fran. ‘I expect we’ll hear the whole story if Lewis comes back.’
‘And if he isn’t still fed up with us.’
‘If what I told Ian means he’s been released, he’ll be too grateful to ignore us,’ said Fran. ‘Let me know as soon as you hear anything.’
‘And you,’ said Libby, and disconnected. Almost as soon as she had done so, the phone rang again.
‘Hello, Ma, it’s me,’ said Adam unnecessarily. ‘Lewis is on his way back. He wanted to know what everybody was doing this evening.’
Chapter Twenty-nine
HARRY MANAGED TO FIT them all in at The Pink Geranium: Libby and Ben, Fran and Guy, Adam and Lewis. Mog said wistfully he would love to come but thought he might be needed at home.
‘I’m surprised Fiona’s let you come back to work so soon,’ said Libby.
‘So’m I,’ said Mog. ‘But I get under her feet, and her mother’s there almost every day.’
‘Ah,’ said Libby. ‘I see. Better go back home now, then.’
Lewis, looking drawn but relieved, arrived a little after the appointed time of nine o’clock, bearing a large bouquet, which he handed straight to Fran.
‘I don’t know what to say, and I don’t know how you did it, but thanks to you I’m off the hook,’ he said, then leant over to kiss Libby. ‘And you, of course, Lib.’
‘It was nothing to do with me,’ said Libby, ‘only marginally, anyway, so sit down and tell us what’s been going on.’
Donna came over to take their orders and Harry sent out a bottle of champagne on the house.
‘Shame I don’t drink,’ said Lewis, ‘but lovely thought. He’s a dish, isn’t he?’
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