Murder by Magic

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Maybe some of them gave in to her?’

  Maurice’s expression turned even darker. ‘Silly buggers, then,’ he said and stomped off, leaving Libby with further food for thought.

  After the rehearsal, she buttonholed Alice before she hurried off to deliver Nathaniel to his parents.

  ‘Alice, did Bob refuse to have his DNA taken because he thought it would be found in Marion Longfellow’s house?’

  Alice turned white, then red and gasped. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Something Maurice said.’

  Alice looked furious. ‘What’s he said, the old bugger?’

  ‘All he said was that half the men in the area would have left DNA in the house because she was always asking people to help her. He said she even asked the wives to ask their husbands.’

  The relief was obvious as Alice’s shoulders slumped and she loosed her grip on Nathaniel’s hand.

  ‘I told him,’ she said. ‘I said there were loads of others, but he wouldn’t have it. He was sure if they found his DNA there he’d be arrested.’

  ‘Him and half the men in the village,’ said Libby. ‘I expect those that gave their DNA freely would have explained that to the police. Why didn’t he?’

  ‘I don’t know. And I think Sheila’s husband must have felt the same.’

  ‘Have you and Sheila talked about it?’

  Alice shook her head. ‘No. I haven’t said anything to anybody.’

  ‘I think you should,’ said Libby. ‘And I think you should tell Bob he’s an idiot.’

  ‘I will,’ said Alice, squaring the slumped shoulders. ‘And I’ll tell Sheila to do the same.’

  ‘I think I might have helped,’ Libby said quietly to Patti as she left the church hall. ‘Let me know if there are any developments.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And could you ask around and see if anyone can remember anything about the wheelchair? It seems to have been completely overlooked.’

  Patti looked surprised. ‘Of course. And I won’t ask what the new police lead is, although I’m dying to.’

  Libby grinned. ‘It was something on her computer, that’s all. And no, not porn!’

  Patti laughed. ‘That wouldn’t surprise me, either.’

  There was a phone message from Rosie when Libby got home in time to eat a quick meal before her second rehearsal of the day.

  ‘Your Ian sent a very nice young man to collect my laptop, and Andrew took me to collect my office computer, so I’m up and running again. The house is almost ready, but covered in dust. I shall report tomorrow.’

  ‘Report what?’ Libby said to Ben. ‘I hope she’s not gone back on that dating site again.’

  ‘It would be just like her to set herself up as bait,’ agreed Ben. ‘You’d better tell Ian.’

  ‘I can’t keep bothering him. With any luck they’ve already shut the bloke’s account down, then she won’t be able to get in touch with him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put anything past Rosie,’ said Ben. ‘Pass the mustard.’

  After two hours of rehearsing being asleep in a castle, Libby was ready for a drink, and, as usual now, found Patti and Anne already in the pub.

  ‘I hope your friend Harry won’t be upset, but we didn’t eat in The Pink Geranium tonight,’ said Anne. ‘I cooked for us at home.’

  ‘Course he won’t be upset,’ said Libby, sitting down at their table, while Ben went to buy drinks. ‘At least Ian isn’t in here tonight.’

  ‘I thought he was a friend of yours?’ Patti said.

  ‘He is, more or less, but we did actually meet him as a policeman in one of the earlier cases we got involved with. And then he got interested in Fran, and somehow we became friends. He asks us – or Fran, actually – if he thinks there’s an aspect she can help with, and sometimes we get him involved with cases. Like this one, although he already was involved, we just didn’t know it.’

  ‘So what other cases have you been involved in?’ asked Anne. ‘I know I’ve seen occasional references in the local paper – there was something up at Anderson Place, wasn’t there?’

  Libby nodded, and by the time Ben and Peter arrived was deep in the details of the Anderson Place mystery.

  ‘I have particular reason to remember that,’ Peter broke in. ‘It was immediately before Hal and I had our civil partnership there.’

  ‘Oh, you did it properly?’ Patti turned to him.

  Peter inclined his head. ‘We did. I have family, although Hal hasn’t, and I didn’t want any property going anywhere but to Hal. Civil partnership gets certain rights, not least to call yourself next of kin in the event of a hospital stay.’

  ‘See.’ Anne nudged Patti, who turned very pink. Libby smiled sympathetically.

  ‘Not something you can do, or even talk about, is it?’ she said.

  Patti looked at her with a certain relief, and the pink faded. ‘I guessed you’d realise,’ she said.

  ‘No, it wasn’t me. It was Fran. It wouldn’t have occurred to me.’

  Patti nodded. ‘We don’t even let Anne come to visit me at St Aldeberge,’ she said.

  ‘In fact,’ said Anne firmly, ‘I’m trying to persuade her that a church which doesn’t allow certain forms of love isn’t a church worth bothering with.’

  ‘But I don’t see it that way,’ said Patti. ‘I’m really sorry, but I knew my vocation long before I met you.’ She patted Anne’s hand. ‘I suppose I’m betraying you and the church.’

  Peter leant forward and put a hand over both theirs. ‘I can’t say I don’t agree with Anne, because I do, but I’m really sorry about the situation you’re in.’ He leant back. ‘Harry and I are lucky. We are accepted as completely normal among our friends and relations, no one thinks twice about it. We have come across some quite vicious homophobia in our time, though.’ He looked at Libby with a half smile. ‘And that’s yet another case.’

  ‘And one I’m not going into now,’ said Libby firmly. ‘We are now all going to cheer up – and look, here comes Harry to help us.’

  But Harry looked gloomy as he swung his long legs across a chair.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Donna’s only gone and got herself pregnant.’ He looked up at Peter. ‘I’m gutted.’

  Libby and Ben burst out laughing.

  ‘That’s much like your reaction when she said she was getting married,’ said Libby.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ said Harry sulkily. ‘I said this would happen, didn’t I?’

  ‘It was fairly inevitable,’ grinned Peter. ‘I’ll go and get you a drink.’

  Libby and Ben explained to Patti and Anne that Donna had been Harry’s right-hand woman since he’d opened the restaurant, how she’d met and subsequently married a young house surgeon from Canterbury.

  ‘Oh, he’s gone up in the world now,’ said Harry, accepting his drink from Peter. ‘He’s a registrar now.’

  ‘I expect that’s why they’ve decided to have a family,’ said Ben. ‘More money and better hours.’

  ‘Do registrars have better hours?’ asked Libby doubtfully. ‘I thought only the top bods got away with nine to five.’

  ‘Well, congratulations to Donna,’ said Peter. ‘I shall come and give her a hug tomorrow.’

  Harry sighed. ‘I know, but who’s going to look after the accounts for me? And sort out the bookings? And she knows all the regulars …’

  ‘Someone else will have to learn, Harry,’ said Libby. ‘I should try and get somebody before Donna leaves so she can train them up.’

  ‘And perhaps she could do some of the accounts and bookings from home?’ suggested Ben. ‘She could probably do with the money.’

  Harry brightened. ‘That’s an idea. I’ll suggest it tomorrow.’

  ‘And don’t pressure her,’ warned Libby, ‘or she’ll get stubborn.’

  The following day Libby invited Fran to lunch for a catch-up and case conference.

  ‘Soup and bread and cheese,’ said Libby. ‘Is that OK?’
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  ‘Lovely,’ said Fran, sniffing appreciatively. ‘Leek and potato?’

  ‘My speciality,’ said Libby. ‘Will you risk a glass of wine?’

  They sat before the fire in the sitting room and Libby went through all the recent Rosie-related events and finished up with confirmation of Fran’s feelings about Patti and Anne’s relationship.

  ‘Poor dears,’ she said. ‘Patti’s obviously very torn and Anne doesn’t share her beliefs.’

  ‘That I can understand,’ said Fran, frowning. ‘I’ve told you–’

  ‘Yes, you have,’ said Libby hastily, ‘but it doesn’t help them. Anyway, back to the murders.’

  ‘You said someone told you something at the church yesterday.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Libby repeated the conversations she’d had with Maurice and Alice. ‘So it’s not as suspicious as it looked.’

  ‘I wonder how many of those she lured over her threshold succumbed?’ said Fran.

  ‘Do you think any of them would have?’

  ‘You know men,’ said Fran. ‘And she was attractive from her photo on the dating site, you said?’

  ‘Well, yes, in a mature sort of way, but by all accounts she was a bit snooty, and the men in the village aren’t exactly pin-ups. Very ordinary elderly and middle-aged men, as far as I’ve seen.’

  ‘You’ve also got the evidence of the lady from the shop. A younger man, she said. Yet she didn’t mention a stream of lusty lads in and out of the cottage.’

  ‘No, but she was relying on hearsay and gossip, I gather. I just haven’t tracked any of that down yet. I wonder if Ian has?’

  ‘Pity you can’t ask him.’

  ‘I can’t though,’ said Libby. ‘Ben thought I ought to warn him about Rosie, but I couldn’t.’

  ‘About Rosie? Why?’

  ‘Oh, she said she’d report today and she’d collected her office computer to use at Andrew’s.’

  ‘Why would you need to tell Ian that?’

  ‘Because he’d already told me to warn Rosie off, which I’d done, and she still suggested she set up a meeting with this Bruno51. I told her not to, obviously, and hopefully the police have pulled his details from the site, but, as Ben said, you wouldn’t put anything past Rosie.’

  ‘So do you think she might still manage it?’ Fran looked worried.

  ‘I don’t know what to think. But the stupid woman actually asked the man if he knew “her friend Marion from St Aldeberge”. Can you believe it? He’s probably tracking her down as we speak.’

  ‘If the police can’t track him down, he won’t have much luck with Rosie, surely?’

  ‘No, if she wasn’t standing up waving a flag over her head and shouting “Here I am!” As it is, she’s a sitting duck.’ Libby sighed. ‘Do you think I ought to tell Ian?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think he might get a bit shirty about being interrupted for something as trivial as that.’

  Libby stood up. ‘It wouldn’t be trivial if something happened to her,’ she said gloomily.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  After lunch Libby suggested visiting Hetty at the Manor, as she and Fran hadn’t seen each other for several weeks. Harry waved from inside the restaurant as they passed, and Flo Carpenter waved from across the street where she was buying greengrocery from the Cattlegreen Nursery’s farm shop.

  ‘This is such a friendly village,’ said Fran, as they turned into the Manor drive. ‘I hardly know anyone in Nethergate.’

  ‘Oh, you do!’ Libby looked at her in surprise. ‘Jane and Terry, for a start, then there’s George and Bert and Mavis –’

  ‘I don’t exactly socialise with two seasonal boat owners and an equally seasonal café owner.’

  ‘No, I suppose not. Perhaps it’s because you don’t belong to anything over there. We’ve got the theatre, here.’

  ‘But you knew people before you had the theatre. All the shopkeepers talk to you. The only one I know is Lizzie in the ice cream shop, and she isn’t open in the winter, either.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Libby sneaked another look at her friend out of the corner of her eyes. ‘You’re not – er – not thinking of –’

  ‘No, of course not!’ Fran turned to her laughing. ‘After all the hard work I put in finding Coastguard Cottage?’

  ‘So you are happy there?’

  ‘Blissfully,’ said Fran. ‘I was simply commenting on how friendly everyone is here. And how all your friends happily include anyone new who is introduced.’

  ‘Like you, you mean?’

  ‘Yes, me, and Rosie, to an extent, and Patti and her friend.’

  ‘I think everyone would be quite happy without Rosie,’ said Libby with feeling.

  Hetty was delighted to see Fran and, settling down for a chat in the kitchen, directed Libby to the estate office where Ben was wrestling with a tenant farmer’s paperwork.

  ‘I still haven’t heard from Rosie.’

  Ben looked up from his desk. ‘Were you expecting to?’

  ‘Yes, you knew. She said she’d report today. That was what was worrying me.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Well, if you haven’t heard, she’s probably decided to leave it alone, wouldn’t you say?’

  Libby sighed. ‘That’s the sensible way to look at it, yes.’

  ‘And Rosie’s anything but sensible,’ said Ben. ‘I know.’

  ‘I’ll ring her. May I use the landline?’ Libby perched on the edge of Ben’s desk. He handed her the phone.

  ‘No reply from her mobile. Goes straight to voicemail. Have we got Andrew’s number?’

  ‘You’ve got it in your phone,’ said Ben.

  ‘He’s not there either,’ said Libby after a moment.

  ‘I gathered that from your message,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t you think that might have alarmed him?’

  ‘I only said I was trying to find Rosie and did he know where she was. It could have been about anything. She could have left something behind at Steeple Farm, for instance.’

  ‘I seem to remember Andrew getting quite het up about anything Rosie-related in the past,’ said Ben. ‘I hope he doesn’t turn up here raving.’

  ‘I’m sure he won’t,’ said Libby, pressing another number on her phone. ‘I’ll try her home number in case she’s just gone to check on the builders. You never know.’

  But there was no reply there, either, and Libby went gloomily back to the kitchen to collect Fran.

  ‘I feel I ought to go looking for her,’ she said, on the way back down the drive. ‘Where do you think she might have gone?’

  ‘Look, Libby, she’s an adult. She also has all sorts of things she has to do connected with her work. Perhaps today’s a day she teaches a creative writing course.’

  ‘I thought she’d stopped those? You don’t go any more.’

  ‘She stopped doing them at the Nethergate Institute, but she might take some somewhere else. Then, she might have to go and meet her agent, or editor. Or be off on a research trip.’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ said Libby, as they turned the corner into the High Street. ‘She’s thinking of this whole thing as research and forgetting it’s real. She was so excited at flushing out this bloke on the dating site.’

  ‘If she went to look for him, where would she go?’ asked Fran.

  ‘She wouldn’t. She would have had to arrange to meet him. He would have suggested the place, but I really can’t think she’d be that stupid.’

  ‘Then why are you worried?’

  Libby sighed. ‘I can’t think anyone would be that stupid, but Rosie isn’t just anyone.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I want to phone Ian, but I can see that he’d dismiss it.’

  ‘Send him a text again. Then he can choose whether to respond or not.’

  Libby stopped outside the eight-til-late and pulled out her phone.

  ‘He’ll be sick of me by now,’ she said putting her phone back in her pocket. ‘Come on, we’ve got time for a cup of tea before you go home.’r />
  To both their surprise, Libby’s phone buzzed in her pocket before they reached number 17.

  ‘Tell me what’s happened,’ said Ian brusquely.

  ‘We-ell,’ Libby faltered, handing her door key to Fran, ‘it isn’t my fault. Just as she went yesterday she said she’d report today, and she hasn’t. There’s no reply from her landline, mobile or Andrew Wylie’s landline. And it sounded to me yesterday as if she was thinking of setting up a meeting with this Bruno51. I told her not to, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ian dryly. ‘As it happens, we found a message from her to him on the dating site yesterday, but nothing since. We left both their profiles up in order not to frighten him off.’

  ‘But you’re monitoring them?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What about their emails?’

  ‘Email addresses are not encouraged – in fact a bot picks them up if they appear and the message isn’t sent.’

  ‘So they couldn’t have been in email contact?’

  ‘Of course they could,’ said Ian. ‘There are other ways of doing that. A coded message will get through the dating site system.’

  ‘And of course,’ said Libby, almost to herself, ‘Rosie is quite a famous author.’

  ‘She wasn’t there under her pen name, though,’ said Ian.

  ‘No, but she used her publicity picture. And said she wrote books. He could have found her through her website.’

  ‘Well, if they did get in touch, I don’t know where or when they would have met, if meet they did,’ said Ian. ‘I haven’t got the time to waste on the stupid woman now, we’re still trying to track Bruno51. He’s registered as being near Canterbury, which doesn’t help much. The experts are on it now.’

  ‘I could go and look for Rosie?’ suggested Libby.

  ‘Where? She could be anywhere. No,’ said Ian, ‘leave it alone and get on with your panto.’

  ‘I bet if she went anywhere to meet him,’ said Libby, switching off the phone and going kettle-wards, ‘it would be the inlet. Both those houses are empty now, there’d be nobody to see.’

  ‘Rosie doesn’t know where the inlet is,’ said Fran.