Murder in Midwinter

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘If you can’t manage that run on we’ll think of something different,’ she said with a tired sigh. ‘Meanwhile, let’s have a tea break.’

  Outside the auditorium in the foyer bar, the cast were queuing at the coffee machine.

  ‘I hear you and Fran have got another case?’ Ben handed Libby a hot chocolate and pushed her into one of the little white-painted iron chairs.

  ‘No, we haven’t.’ Libby took a sip and pulled a face. ‘And who told you?’

  ‘Pete. He got it from Harry.’

  ‘Can’t keep anything to yourself in this place,’ said Libby.

  ‘Would you have told me?’

  ‘Of course. Anyway, it’s nothing to do with us personally. This came via Inspector Connell. Someone’s found a body.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Ben threw his head back and laughed. ‘He’s not asked for your help to find a murderer?’

  ‘No,’ said Libby, irritated. ‘He’s asked Fran’s help on behalf of the woman who found the body.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll probably know tomorrow.’ Libby stood up and picked up her mug. ‘I’m going back. Drag the others through as soon as you can.’

  Fran and Libby had no chance to do more than say goodnight to one another after the ritual drink in the pub, and Libby was uncharacteristically reserved with Ben when they went back to Allhallow’s Lane.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked after she’d served him with a glass of the whisky he’d bought her.

  ‘Nothing.’ She took her own glass to the creaky cane sofa and put it down before giving the fire a good poke.

  ‘Come on, Lib, don’t try and pull the wool over my eyes.’ Ben sat down in the armchair and shifted his feet to avoid Sidney, who gave him a look.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Libby curled her feet under her and looked longingly at the packet of cigarettes on the table beside her.

  ‘Go on, have one,’ said Ben. ‘You know I don’t mind. Then you can tell me what I’ve done.’

  ‘You haven’t done anything,’ said Libby, lighting the cigarette with relish.

  Ben looked at her in silence for a long moment. ‘I know what it is,’ he said. ‘You thought I was making fun of you.’

  Libby looked at the fire.

  ‘I knew it. Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Tell me all about it.’

  ‘I don’t actually know any more than I told you,’ said Libby. ‘This woman’s inherited a theatre and she found a body. I think Fran said she wants to find out about the relations who left her the theatre.’

  ‘She doesn’t know them?’

  ‘I suppose not. I’ve told you, that’s all I know.’

  ‘And Harry’s giving you all tea tomorrow?’

  ‘Oh, you know that, too, do you?’

  ‘I told you, Pete told me. Harry tells him everything.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Libby.

  Ben stood up, stepped delicately across Sidney and moved Libby’s feet before squeezing onto the sofa. ‘Now I’ve apologised, be nice to me,’ he said.

  Libby smiled reluctantly. ‘How nice?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, this’ll do to begin with,’ said Ben, and kissed her.

  Bella Morleigh phoned Fran the following morning and Fran invited her to tea at The Pink Geranium.

  ‘Is three o’clock all right?’ she asked.

  ‘I think so. I have to go and see my solicitor and then I can take a taxi.’

  ‘Is he in Nethergate? That’ll be an expensive taxi ride. It’s a long way.’

  ‘The solicitor will advance me money from the estate,’ said Bella, ‘he told me he would. And I’ve got to find out if the cottage is habitable. He was arranging to have the services switched on.’

  ‘Right,’ said Fran. ‘Well, we’ll see you around three?’

  ‘We?’ said Bella, sounding apprehensive.

  ‘My colleague, Libby Sarjeant,’ said Fran airily, ‘see you later.’

  When she phoned Libby she warned her that Bella might baulk at her presence, but Libby was confident. ‘I’m the down-to-earth one,’ she said, ‘she’ll trust me.’

  Fran wasn’t so sure, but nevertheless arranged to meet Libby just before three in The Pink Geranium.

  Harry had set their favourite table with a cloth, cups and plates of carrot cake and banana bread.

  ‘Kettle’s on the boil,’ he said, turning the door sign to open. ‘Shout when you’re ready.’

  ‘Well, here goes,’ said Libby, as he went back to the kitchen. ‘There’s a taxi pulling up now.’

  They both watched as Bella Morleigh paid the driver. She looked to be around their own age, middle-fifties, although, in Libby’s opinion, she could have been at least ten years older, judging by her clothes. True, she was wearing jeans, but they looked more like slacks made in imitation denim, and her shoes were sensible and worn with white socks. Fran caught Libby’s eye and frowned. ‘Don’t say a word,’ she said as the door opened. ‘Bella? Come and sit down. I’m Fran and this is Libby.’

  Bella sat down with a nervous smile.

  ‘I’ll ask Harry for the tea,’ said Libby, with rare tact. ‘Tea for you Bella? Or coffee?’

  ‘Oh, tea, please.’ Bella cleared her throat.

  ‘Right,’ said Libby, and made off towards the kitchen.

  ‘So.’ Fran sat back and looked at Bella. ‘Inspector Connell recommended you speak to me.’

  ‘Yes.’ Bella was obviously ill-at-ease.

  ‘Why, exactly?’

  Bella’s fingers played jerkily with the strap of handbag. ‘I – I’m not sure.’

  ‘You wanted to speak to me, though, or you wouldn’t have phoned and arranged to meet me.’

  ‘Yes.’ Bella looked up as Libby came back to the table. Fran made a face.

  ‘Tell us how we can help you,’ said Libby, leaning forward and smiling warmly. ‘Fran’s awfully good at finding things out, you know.’

  Fran hid a smile. Libby was good at this, when she managed not to be too outspoken.

  ‘Well,’ began Bella, ‘it all began with a letter from a solicitor in Nethergate, a Robert Grimshaw. Do you know him?’

  Libby and Fran shook their heads.

  Bella went on to recount her visit to Nethergate and March Cottage, and the surprising letter from Maria Alexander. Harry brought the tea.

  ‘So then,’ she went on, as Libby poured tea, ‘the following day I just couldn’t forget it, so after Andr– after the children had gone to school and I’d done the shopping, I just rushed off to the station and came down again. This time, I went straight to the theatre.’ She paused, looking down into her cup. ‘At first, I couldn’t get in, the locks and padlocks were so rusted, but eventually I found a door at the back where the lock turned easily.’

  ‘Had it been oiled recently?’ asked Libby.

  ‘That’s what the police asked. I don’t know, but I think they thought it had.’

  ‘So when it opened, what happened?’ asked Fran.

  ‘I pushed it open, and oh, the smell!’ Bella wrinkled her nose. ‘I was in some sort of passage, and it was dark. I could see rubbish ahead of me, but it didn’t look as though I’d get very far. I just took a step or so inside, to see if I could see any more, and that was when I saw it.’

  Libby and Fran waited.

  ‘I thought it was more rubbish at first, old clothes, or something, and – and then I realised.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I sort of backed out and after a bit I found my mobile and rang the police.’

  ‘Horrible for you,’ said Libby. ‘Drink your tea.’

  ‘What happened next?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Well, I rang Mr Grimshaw after the police got there, and he took me to the police station to make a statement. After that, the Inspector suggested I talk to you.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Because I inherited the theatre and I didn’t even know I had an aunt to inherit from. He thought you might help me find out about the family.’ Bel
la looked up and Fran saw the appeal in her eyes. ‘I don’t know how, though.’

  ‘Fran can sometimes sense things about places, you see,’ said Libby, when it looked as though Fran had no intention of answering. ‘She works for a big London estate agents who ask her to go and look at places and find out if any murders have been committed there, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Then you can help,’ Bella said slowly.

  ‘Well, only in a way,’ said Fran, ‘and you already know a murder’s been committed at your theatre.’

  ‘But Aunt Maria left me the cottage, too. She and Dorinda – her mother – lived there almost all their lives. Could you come there?’

  Libby looked at Fran. ‘A good start, Fran,’ she said. ‘Are there any of their things still there, Bella?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Bella, ‘and somewhere there’s a collection of memorabilia and costumes. Maria told me in the letter she left. I don’t know where, exactly, but she wouldn’t have left it in the theatre, so perhaps it’s in the loft at the cottage.’

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Libby. ‘When shall we come?’

  ‘I’m moving into the cottage tomorrow morning. Mr Grimshaw says the electricity will be on then. I’ve got to give it a thorough cleaning, but I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘So where are you staying tonight? You’re not going back to London again, are you?’ said Fran.

  ‘No, I’m staying at the pub – here, actually,’ said Bella with a smile.

  ‘Oh, well, that’s good,’ said Libby, ‘because we both live here.’

  ‘Yes, George at the pub in Heronsbourne mentioned you when I asked about rooms,’ said Bella. ‘He said you ran the theatre here.’

  ‘Well, I’m involved,’ said Libby, modestly. ‘Coincidence, then, George mentioning me, wasn’t it?’

  Bella nodded and finished her tea. ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘Vaguely. Nice pub, if I remember.’

  ‘He said you might know something about the Alexandria.’

  ‘Not really. Fran and I both remember it being active when we were children. I was taken to summer shows there when I was on holiday. It was a lovely little theatre.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘I remember coming out at the end of the evening on to the promenade, with all the coloured lights strung between the lamp-posts, and walking along to the other end to where we used to stay. It was all so exciting.’

  ‘My father never took me to a theatre,’ said Bella. ‘Or even a cinema. Looking back on it, we had nothing to do with any sort of entertainment. He would never have variety or music shows on the television either.’

  Libby cut a slice of banana bread and handed it to her. ‘That really is sad. Have you made up for it since?’

  ‘Oh, I love the theatre,’ said Bella. ‘I belong to an amateur company near where I live in London. I don’t act, or anything, you understand, but I help out backstage wherever I can.’

  ‘Then I can see two reasons why Inspector Connell recommended you talk to Fran,’ said Libby. ‘One because we’ve done investigations together before and he knows about our involvement with theatre, and two, because of Fran’s psychic abilities.’

  ‘Is that what they are?’ said Bella, looking slightly scared.

  ‘I don’t honestly know,’ said Fran, ‘but whatever they are, they’ve had some success, even with the police.’

  Bella nodded, and turned her attention to the banana bread.

  ‘So, you’re staying here tonight?’ said Libby. ‘Where are you eating?’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought,’ said Bella. ‘Does the pub do food?’

  ‘Hang on a minute. Harry,’ Libby called, turning towards the kitchen, where she could see Harry hovering in the doorway. ‘Have you got room for us to eat early tonight?’

  ‘How many?’ Harry emerged.

  ‘Fran?’ said Libby.

  ‘Yes, sure.’

  ‘Bella? Do you like vegetarian food?’

  ‘Oh – yes,’ said Bella.

  ‘Three,’ said Libby.

  ‘OK. You might be squeezed into the corner. About six-thirty?’

  ‘Great,’ said Libby. ‘All right with you, Bella?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Bella, looking bewildered.

  ‘And then, if you wanted to, you could come to our panto rehearsal with us.’ Libby beamed round the table.

  Bella beamed back. ‘I’d love that,’ she said.

  Chapter Four

  THEY SAW BELLA INTO the pub and left her to it.

  ‘What was she going to say?’ said Fran. ‘When she said “after and – after the children had gone to school”. After and what?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Libby frowned. ‘She’s obviously younger than we are if she’s got school-age children. Perhaps they don’t know anything about all this.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she tell them? And what’s she done with them now? She can’t have left them all on their own.’

  ‘Her husband must be at home. Perhaps that’s who she hasn’t told.’

  ‘Well, she must have told him she’s coming here, or he’d have put out a missing person call. Very odd,’ said Fran.

  ‘As odd as being left a house and a theatre by someone you didn’t know existed,’ said Libby, looking thoughtful.

  ‘That’s not her fault,’ said Fran.

  ‘What did you make of her?’ asked Libby.

  ‘I couldn’t sense anything wrong with her, if that’s what you mean,’ said Fran, ‘but she’s dreadfully nervous.’

  ‘Finding a body couldn’t have helped,’ said Libby. ‘You and I haven’t even done that.’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘Not a new one.’

  ‘Are we going to the house with her tomorrow?’ said Fran, putting her key into the lock.

  ‘To help her scrub and polish? I thought we’d offer,’ said Libby, with a grin.

  ‘Yes, I thought you would,’ said Fran, grinning back. ‘See you at six-thirty.’

  Bella, looking a lot more relaxed than she had in the afternoon, and wearing a long black skirt and matching jumper which looked much more up to date than her previous outfit, joined them at just after half-past six and gratefully accepted a glass of red wine.

  ‘Fran and I seem to spend a lot of our time eating and drinking,’ explained Libby. ‘We exchange most of our best ideas over food and drink.’

  Bella smiled. ‘What better way is there?’ she said.

  ‘So, who have you got at home?’ Libby went on.

  Bella jumped visibly.

  ‘You said children,’ prompted Fran.

  ‘Anthony and Amanda,’ said Bella.

  ‘At school?’

  ‘Tony’s doing A levels and Manda’s doing GCSEs.’

  ‘Ours are all older than that,’ said Libby. ‘Fran’s even got grandchildren.’

  ‘I started a bit late,’ said Bella. ‘Andrew and I didn’t meet until I was over thirty.’

  ‘Well, that’s the way of it, now, isn’t it?’ said Libby. ‘They all start late. So what do yours think about this theatre business?’

  ‘The children were excited at first. But I haven’t really talked to them much about it since – well, since the murder.’

  ‘And your husband?’

  ‘Andrew – well, he – er – he’s not really into theatre.’ Bella buried her face in her wine glass and Libby and Fran exchanged looks.

  ‘Ready to order, ladies?’ Harry appeared beside them with pad and pencil at the ready. ‘I hate to hurry you, but I have the hungry hordes descending in about an hour.’

  ‘Oh, right, sorry, Harry.’ Libby handed Bella a menu. ‘We’ll be a minute while we tell Bella what’s best.’ She smiled winningly. Harry scowled.

  During the meal, Libby and Fran told Bella about the Oast House Theatre and their own involvement, only lightly touching on the murder that had brought them together. Bella, however, picked up on it.

  ‘So you’ve been involved with a murder enquiry before?’ she said, her eyes going from one to
the other.

  Fran looked at Libby and shrugged.

  ‘Er – two, actually,’ said Libby.

  ‘Two?’ Bella gasped.

  ‘Complete coincidence,’ said Fran.

  ‘I don’t believe it.’ Bella slowly shook her head. ‘That doesn’t happen in real life.’

  ‘I know, that’s what we thought,’ said Libby. ‘I just hate those books where some innocent member of the public just keeps falling over murders, don’t you?’

  ‘Well,’ said Bella, ‘you’ve just fallen over another one, haven’t you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Fran. ‘Inspector Connell put us in touch. That’s quite different.’

  ‘Did he do it because you’ve – er – been involved?’

  ‘I think it was because of Fran’s peculiar abilities,’ grinned Libby.

  ‘Who are you calling peculiar?’ said Fran.

  ‘Peculiar in the Oxford dictionary definition,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh,’ said Fran.

  ‘So those were the investigations you mentioned this afternoon,’ said Bella. ‘I thought you meant family investigations – you know, like genealogy searches.’

  ‘Well, funnily enough,’ said Libby, chasing her last morsel of refried beans round the plate, ‘they have been family investigations, haven’t they, Fran?’

  ‘Both of them,’ agreed Fran, ‘so I suppose it makes us qualified to look into yours.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Hadn’t you better get going, Lib? You need to be at the theatre before I do.’

  Libby stood up. ‘Let me know what I owe you later,’ she said. ‘See you later, Bella.’

  ‘She seems nice,’ said Bella, watching Libby struggle through the door in a flurry of basket and cape.

  ‘She is. A bit impulsive at times, but a good friend.’ Fran waved at Donna and asked for the bill. ‘Do you mind if we go now? I don’t want to be late. I missed a rehearsal on Monday.’

  Bella obediently pushed back her chair and picked up her handbag. ‘Can I take care of the bill?’ she asked tentatively. ‘I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.’

  ‘We haven’t done anything yet,’ said Fran, ‘but if you insist. My turn next.’

  ‘How far is the theatre?’ asked Bella, as they left The Pink Geranium.

  ‘Just up there,’ said Fran, indicating the drive to The Manor, now resplendent with its swinging sign, carved locally.