Murder in Bloom

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Hands off,’ said Adam.

  ‘Yeah, I know he’s spoken for, but a fella can look, can’t he?’ Lewis gave a tired grin. ‘Well, here goes. I was up at the London flat, see, and Katie was at hers. I been talking to my producer, and they want to firm up ideas for the next series. It’s been a bit delayed, so they’re keen to get on with it. Anyway, this morning these coppers turn up on my doorstep with a warrant for my arrest.’ He paused, looking down at the table. ‘It was … well, I dunno how to describe it.’ He looked up. ‘I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t have a chance.’

  ‘That was when you sent the text to Mog?’ asked Adam.

  ‘Yeah. His was the first memory button, and I thought he’d tell you.’ He grinned at Libby. ‘And you. And I knew you’d make a guess at what was going on.’

  ‘And Fran saw your carver’s mallet,’ said Libby. Fran went pink.

  ‘You what?’ Lewis gaped.

  Libby explained. ‘Then she told Ian Connell, the inspector down here, and he relayed the info to London.’

  ‘What, that she’d seen it?’

  ‘No, that Cindy Dale’s prints might be on it,’ said Fran.

  There was an astonished silence round the table. Lewis and Adam looked at each other, stupefied, and Guy and Ben looked bewildered. Fran told them what she had suspected.

  ‘So Ian must have persuaded them to check for the prints and look into the possibility that Cindy was in the country before Sunday,’ said Libby. ‘Brilliant, Fran.’

  ‘They must have found the prints,’ said Fran, ‘or they’d never have let Lewis go.’

  ‘They were quick about it, then,’ said Lewis.

  ‘They let me go late afternoon.’

  ‘I asked Ian if he’d tell me what happened, but I doubt if he will,’ said Fran. ‘He opened up to me more than he should have at lunchtime.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ said Guy.

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ said Fran, giving him an affectionate nudge.

  ‘Well, congratulations, Lewis,’ said Ben, raising his glass. ‘I’m really pleased. That means you can get on with the next series as soon as possible, I suppose?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Lewis, ‘and guess what, Ad? We’re going to do a whole programme on the garden at Creekmarsh, with updates through the rest of the series.’

  ‘Blimey!’ said Adam. ‘Have you told Mog?’

  ‘Not yet. And we can’t do it until the police say we can, so I guess we need to clear all this up quick.’

  ‘We?’ said Libby, amused.

  ‘Well, you and the cops,’ said Lewis, looking from her to Fran. ‘So what do you think the whole story is, then?’

  Libby and Fran looked at each other.

  ‘I’ll start,’ said Fran, ‘and you butt in if I miss anything.’ She sipped her wine and put the glass back on the table. ‘Here goes. We think, based on our own assumptions and information received, that Cindy Dale killed her husband Kenneth, and Tony West helped her disappear and got Gerald Shepherd into a nursing home as he was already going downhill with Alzheimer’s disease.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Why what? Why did he help her disappear, or why did she kill Kenneth?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Not sure about why she killed Kenneth, except she does seem to have wanted to inherit Creekmarsh, or Gerald’s estate, in any case, and as to why Tony helped her, we don’t know. Coming up to date, once she’d heard about the skeleton being discovered, she was scared that the whole thing would come out. She didn’t at this stage, remember, know that Lewis had bought Creekmarsh. Anyway, she came into the country somehow – I expect the police have found out when by now – went straight to Tony’s house and killed him with the carver’s mallet he gave Lewis.’

  ‘What was it doing at Tony’s house?’ asked Adam.

  ‘I was over there a few weeks ago doing a little job for him and I’d taken it with the rest of me tools. I left it there by accident.’ Lewis shook his head. ‘Teach me to be more careful, won’t it.’

  ‘So she didn’t use it to implicate you on purpose?’ said Guy.

  ‘I don’t think she knew of Lewis’s existence at that time,’ said Fran. ‘All she was keen to do was shut Tony up. She then decided to reappear as the grieving widow and daughter-in-law, to reclaim the estate.’

  ‘Did she think Gerald was dead?’ asked Libby.

  ‘I think she would have known if Gerald was dead, wouldn’t she?’ said Fran.

  ‘Maybe, but she didn’t know Lewis owned the property, so Tony hadn’t kept her up to date with events at all, had he?’ said Adam.

  ‘No, and that’s why we’re concerned that Cindy might go after Gerald,’ said Libby.

  ‘And what’s all this you’ve found out about him?’ asked Ben. ‘And smugglers’ tunnels?’

  Fran and Libby told them of their discoveries with the two landlords.

  ‘Trust my mother to be on those sorts of terms with pub landlords,’ said Adam with a snort.

  ‘So will the police confirm all these theories?’ said Guy.

  ‘Well, one seems to be confirmed,’ said Libby. ‘They’ve let Lewis go. Let joy be unconfined.’

  At the end of the meal, Lewis gave a little speech and became slightly emotional, to Fran and Libby’s delight and Ben and Guy’s embarrassment. He then sat down, blew his nose and drank a whole glass of water.

  ‘Hope Katie’s come back to look after you,’ said Adam, patting him on the arm.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said Lewis. ‘She had a few things to clear up, she said, because I’d told her we were going to be in London for weeks. She’ll be down in the morning.’

  ‘She won’t lose any sleep over Cindy’s fate,’ said Libby. ‘She couldn’t stand her, could she?’

  ‘Hated her,’ said Lewis. ‘I should have realised they’d met before, you know. There was such a – oh, I dunno, a feeling between them. Why didn’t she tell me before, though?’

  ‘Perhaps she didn’t think she had to?’ said Fran. ‘Did you know she’d known Tony and Gerald that far back?’

  ‘I didn’t know she knew Gerald at all,’ said Lewis, ‘and I didn’t realise she knew Tony as well as she did, either.’

  ‘I can see why that was,’ said Libby. ‘She was probably scared you’d think she’d got the job with you through undue influence or something.’

  ‘We’ve already talked about whose idea it was that she came to work for you, haven’t we?’ said Fran. ‘It was Tony’s, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Think so,’ said Lewis. He stood up. ‘Listen. Thanks for being such a support, everybody, but I gotta go. I promised me mum I’d phone her this evening. I talked to her earlier, but she’s a bit jumpy. I’ve asked Katie to drive her down here tomorrow, so she needs to start packing.’

  ‘Typical male,’ said Libby, watching Lewis leave the restaurant. ‘Not bothering to tell his mum until eleven o’clock at night that someone’s picking her up tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Perhaps she’ll say no,’ said Fran.

  ‘That’ll larn him,’ said Libby.

  The next morning Lewis rang Libby to invite her and Fran to lunch at Creekmarsh to meet his mother, who would be arriving with Katie around eleven.

  ‘She said yes, then?’ said Libby.

  ‘’Course,’ said Lewis in surprise. ‘Why shouldn’t she?’

  Fran and Libby arrived in their separate vehicles just before one. They were greeted at the door by a beaming Katie, who led them into the kitchen, where a small brown-haired woman sat at the table in front of a large mug of tea.

  ‘This is Edith,’ said Katie, ‘Lewis’s mum. Edie, this is Mrs Sarjeant and Mrs Castle who’ve been helping Lewis.’

  Edie pushed back the chair and stood up unsteadily, holding out a hand to Libby.


  ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,’ she said. ‘You done a lot for my boy.’

  ‘Nothing really,’ said Libby, ‘just stood by. Fran

  – Mrs Castle – is the clever one.’

  ‘Never had no truck with all that nonsense before,’ said Edie, gripping Fran’s hand with both of hers, ‘but blessed if it weren’t right as rain this time.’

  ‘I’m really glad for you,’ said Fran, looking uncomfortable. ‘How is Lewis this morning?’

  ‘Full of plans, he is,’ said Katie. ‘Down talking to that Mog and Adam about his show. Police have been and gone, and you wouldn’t believe how they’ve changed.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ said Libby, pulling out a chair.

  ‘That nice detective inspector, the dark one –’

  ‘Connell?’ said Libby, with a sideways look at Fran, who ignored her.

  ‘That’s the one. So polite, he was. They were here when Edie and I arrived, and he couldn’t have been nicer. Looks like they’ll have finished here, unless that Cindy turns up again.’ Her face darkened. ‘Which she won’t, if she’s got any sense. I always knew she was a bad’n.’

  ‘You knew her when Gerald lived here, didn’t you?’ said Libby.

  ‘Not to say knew,’ said Katie. ‘Met her. She was a little – well. I’d best not say. Glad she’s gone, that’s all. Now, anyone for tea? Shall I freshen that, Edie?’

  Lewis came in a little while later, during which time Fran and Libby had heard all about Lewis as a little boy, Lewis as a tearaway teenager, Lewis as an apprentice chippy and Lewis as a joiner, before going on to the great heights of Lewis as a TV personality.

  ‘I liked that Housey Housey,’ said Edie. ‘Better than his own show.’

  ‘Really? Why?’ said Fran.

  ‘Because she don’t like watching a half hour of me without the other presenters,’ said Lewis, giving his mother a kiss. ‘Everyone all right this morning?’

  ‘Yes, thanks, and Katie tells us the police are going to be leaving you alone soon,’ said Libby.

  ‘They certainly are,’ said Lewis, looking his bright and perky self. ‘And we can start filming as soon as we can set it up. Have to get on to it quick, though, or we’ll lose the best of the season.’

  ‘Right,’ said Libby, raising questioning eyebrows. ‘’Course you will.’

  They had lunch in the kitchen, as usual, and Adam and Mog joined them. By the end of the meal Adam was complaining that he’d always assumed he had one mother, but now it seemed he had three.

  ‘Not counting me, eh, Ad?’ smiled Fran.

  ‘You don’t mother me,’ said Adam. ‘I don’t think you’re the motherly sort.’

  ‘Out of the mouths of babes,’ said Fran with a wry smile at Libby.

  ‘Anyone who’s a friend to my boy’s like a son to me,’ said Edie, complacently. ‘Aren’t you going to eat up that spinach, boy?’

  Libby snorted and Lewis roared. ‘Now you see what I had to put up with,’ he said.

  Later, he saw Libby and Fran to their cars.

  ‘That it, then?’ he said. ‘Have we finished with the mystery of Creekmarsh?’

  ‘As far as you’re concerned,’ said Fran, ‘but there’s still the mystery of Cindy Dale and Gerald Shepherd.’

  ‘But it’s nothing to do with me any more, or Creekmarsh, so we can relax, can’t we?’ Lewis put an arm round each of their shoulders and gave them a squeeze. ‘And you can get on with your wedding. Not long now, eh? Am I still coming to the evening do?’

  ‘Of course you are,’ said Fran. ‘You’re welcome to come to the whole day, if you like.’

  ‘I’ll hitch a lift with Inspector Connell, shall I?’ he said with a wink. ‘Go on. I’ll see you both then, if not before.’

  Chapter Thirty

  THE SUN NOW SEEMED to shine in earnest every day. For Fran, it was a time of anticipation and joy, only slightly marred by the occasional phone calls from her children, still complaining. In the end Guy took the receiver from her in mid-conversation with Lucy.

  ‘Lucy, I’m very sorry both your mother’s and your first marriages went wrong, but they’re both over now and I’m going to make sure that your mother, at least, spends the rest of her life happy and secure. She does not need your constant whining that things are not fair. It’s quite true that neither you nor your sister are being fair to her, but she hasn’t complained. So I suggest you leave her alone, or you’ll find you’re cut off from her altogether. I’ll make sure of that. And you can pass that on to your sister.’

  There was a confused spluttering at the other end of the line. ‘You can’t do that!’ gasped Lucy.

  ‘Oh, I can, and I will. I don’t want to, because it would upset your mother,’ said Guy, ‘but you’re upsetting her now, so it would be the lesser of two evils. We’ll look forward to seeing you at the wedding. We’ve booked you into a little hotel a mile away where several of the other guests are staying and if you wish you can stay there the night before as well.’

  ‘I can’t afford that!’ snapped Lucy.

  ‘I didn’t say you had to, did I?’ said Guy wearily. ‘It’s your mother’s treat.’

  He switched off the phone and handed it back to Fran. ‘And that’s the end of that,’ he said. ‘Presumably she’ll phone Chrissie and they’ll tear me to pieces, but it may give them pause.’

  ‘You wouldn’t really cut me off from them, would you?’ said Fran.

  ‘If they were upsetting you, yes,’ said Guy. ‘I can be ruthless, you know.’ And he twirled imaginary moustaches.

  While Fran had plenty to keep her occupied, Libby was bored. Lewis had asked to be excused from the Steeple Farm project as he was so busy with his new series, in which Adam and Mog were heavily involved, to Adam’s delight, and Ben was waiting for a builder friend of his to come over and give them a quote. So there was nothing to do on that front. Early summer kept Ben at The Manor for longer than usual and Fran was unavailable for long chats or girlie evenings.

  Twice she went to The Pink Geranium for lunch and hovered around the kitchen getting in Harry’s way, once she went to visit old Jim Butler and his dog Lady, who lived on the outskirts of Nethergate, and once she went to see Flo and Lenny in their sheltered accommodation down by the church.

  Eventually she realised she was putting off finishing the paintings Guy had requested and made a determined effort. However, this kept her inside and the weather was beautiful, so the Friday of the week before Fran’s wedding, she borrowed the Land Rover and drove to Creekmarsh.

  A large lorry was parked on the drive, with several attendant cars. Libby left the Land Rover near the gates and walked up to the front door, which was open.

  ‘Hello, dear.’ Edie came out of the kitchen. ‘Did you want Adam?’

  ‘I was bored, Edie,’ confessed Libby, ‘so I came over to see how things were going. Are they filming?’

  ‘Not sure, dear. I go down and have a look now and then, but I don’t understand what’s going on, so I leave ’em to it. They’ll be down by that there party garden, I think.’

  ‘Thanks, Edie. I’ll take a wander down there,’ said Libby. ‘See you before I leave.’

  Sure enough, there was a crowd of people round the parterre garden, where Lewis was on his haunches with Adam’s string in his hand, while Mog and Adam stood at the back looking bored.

  ‘Hi, Ma,’ said Adam, his face brightening. ‘Come to have a look?’

  ‘Yes, but it doesn’t look as though much is happening.’

  ‘Nothing is,’ said Mog. ‘They’re planning everything out and holding us up into the bargain.’

  ‘Ah, but that means it’ll take you longer and that means more money,’ said Libby.

  ‘Hmph,’ said Mog, scowling at a young woman with tied-back hair and collapsing trousers.


  ‘Will you appear in the show?’ Libby asked Adam.

  ‘In the background doing the heavy work,’ said Adam. ‘The peasants, you know.’

  ‘No more police?’

  ‘I haven’t seen any,’ said Adam. ‘I would have told you if I had.’

  ‘Did they investigate the ice-house?’

  ‘Ice house?’ Adam wrinkled his brow. ‘N-no. Where is it?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ said Libby cheerfully. ‘Perhaps I’ll go and look for it if I won’t get in the way.’

  ‘Where do you think it is?’

  ‘Somewhere down by the river,’ said Libby. ‘Do you know where they found that little boat?’

  ‘Just round from the sailing club, I think,’ said Adam. ‘Do you think it’s there? What is it exactly, anyway?’

  Libby explained, then set off, circling the walled parterre garden and setting off towards the ha-ha. She passed the bench where she had sat with Lewis, and branched off to the right without going down to the sailing club and the pontoon. The inlet reached like a hand from the river into the Creekmarsh estate, the thumb towards the sailing club and the other fingers just round a bend. Libby went towards these, but discovered a mass of brambles and vegetation that made it almost impossible to reach, especially for a slightly overweight, vertically challenged person in sandals.

  Trees overhung the sloping ground and police tape fluttered in the breeze. No boat was thrust into the bank now, but Libby could see where it had been. Above it, roots from the overhanging trees formed an archway, almost an entrance …

  Libby’s heart thumped. An entrance. She tried leaning forward to see if there was, indeed, a tunnel, but from her vantage point she couldn’t. Besides, she thought, if there was a tunnel, the police would have found it, surely. From down there, where the boat had been, they would have been able to see. Nevertheless, she started up the slope to see if she couldn’t work her way round and come out above the inlet.

  It was a scramble, and after five minutes Libby was red in the face, with bits of vegetation in her hair, feeling very glad she was wearing jeans. Suddenly, to her surprise, she came up against what appeared to be wire netting. She sat back on her heels and looked at it. It ran uphill through the bushes and downhill to disappear over a slight mound.