For a fleeting moment, Libby saw the hidden Harry, whose unknown background had left him vulnerable. She knew she wouldn’t find out anything about this unless he chose to tell her, and had purposely never asked, realising that remembering it would upset him. The closest she’d ever come to learning anything was when, at his request, she’d become involved in an investigation into a homophobic attack on his friend Cy.
Harry sat on the sofa next to Ben and swivelled to put his feet up on Peter’s lap. ‘I think Ben’s right,’ he said. ‘And I think that the old Rosie-bird will get you involved again. You see if she doesn’t.’
‘But she’s vanished,’ said Libby. ‘The only way she could get me involved is if I went looking for her.’
‘I seem to remember that happening before,’ said Ben. ‘In the middle of the night, too.’
‘It wasn’t the middle of the night,’ protested Libby. ‘And I remember Ian not being worried about her that time, too, so he hasn’t got a good track record.’
Libby’s basket began to ring.
‘Talk about me buying new mugs,’ said Harry, ‘but shouldn’t you replace that old hay-bag?’
Libby ignored him and took her mobile out of the basket.
‘Libby, it’s me, Rosie.’
Libby nearly upset her mug. ‘Rosie? Good God, where are you?’
The three men suddenly sat upright, exchanging astonished looks.
Rosie giggled. ‘Aha! I’ve been doing some undercover detective work. I’m using a pay as you go mobile and I’ve been only using computers in the library. I knew your Ian and you would have a fit if you knew what I’ve been doing.’
‘But where are you? Rosie, you must tell Ian.’
‘I haven’t got his number, only yours and Fran’s – oh and Andrew’s. I’ve been in touch with him so he knows I’m all right.’
‘Yes, he said that, but we were still worried.’
‘Well,’ said Rosie, ‘you can stop being worried. Why don’t you come and meet me tonight and I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘Rosie, I wish you wouldn’t ask me out on Sunday nights. I’ve always had a drink on Sundays. It will have to wait until tomorrow.’
‘It’ll be too late then,’ said Rosie. ‘Could I come over and pick you up? I think it’s important.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll ask the council.’ She turned to her three listeners. ‘Rosie wants to pick me up tonight and take me somewhere. She’s been detecting on her own.’
‘No!’ said three voices, quite loudly.
‘There,’ said Libby into the phone. ‘You heard that, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I did.’ Rosie sounded offended.
‘Look, Rosie, it’s tantamount to the heroine in the darkened house going blithely into the cellar when she hears a noise. As a matter of fact, we’ve just been talking about the case and you. As a result of the fire –’
‘Fire? What fire?’ Rosie echoed Fran.
‘Oh, yes, sorry. Someone tried to burn down my house last night and Ian thinks it was a warning, so he’s forbidden me to go anywhere near anything to do with the case.’ Slight exaggeration, but forgivable in the circumstances, Libby thought.
‘Oh.’ Rosie was quiet for a moment. ‘But what about the dating site?’
‘Is that what you’ve been doing? Only Ian and his team have been monitoring activity on there since you disappeared, so he’ll know what you’ve been up to anyway.’
‘No, he won’t,’ said Rosie, triumph in her voice. ‘I told you – untraceable mobile and computers, new web-based emails. And both Bruno51 and I came off the site.’
‘Well, you’re quite mad,’ said Libby. ‘And I shall tell Ian and give him this number. Whatever you’re planning, I beg you, don’t do it.’
‘I never thought you’d be such a coward,’ said Rosie. ‘No one would know who you are, after all.’
‘Coward?’ Libby was seething now. ‘And what do you mean, no one would know who I was? Where?’
Rosie was silent again, obviously realising she’d slipped up.
‘Well, go ahead,’ said Libby. ‘And I’ve told you, I shall tell Ian immediately.’ She switched off the phone. ‘Damn!’
‘What?’ said the three voices.
‘She’s got something planned for tonight and she’s been communicating with that bloke from the dating site.’
‘I told you so!’ crowed Harry. ‘I said she’d get you involved and she has.’
‘I’m afraid he’s right, Lib,’ said Ben. ‘She could be walking straight into danger. What exactly did she say?’
‘Hang on a minute, I’m phoning Ian,’ said Libby. Two minutes later, she swore again.
‘Yes, we heard,’ said Peter. ‘You’ve left messages on both his phones. Now what?’
‘Tell us what she said, Lib,’ repeated Ben. ‘See if we can work out what she’s planning to do.’
Libby recounted as much of Rosie’s conversation as she could verbatim.
‘No one would know who you were,’ said Ben slowly. ‘That either means you would be somewhere you weren’t known, or –’
‘I would be in disguise of some sort,’ said Libby, ‘which sounds much more likely to me. No one would know sounds as though normally they would know me.’
‘Something is making me think of our dear old moustachioed witch,’ said Harry. ‘The one you had tea with in the caff.’
‘Oh, dear, back to the Black Mass again,’ said Libby.
‘Not necessarily a Black Mass,’ said Peter. ‘Just a coven meeting. A set-up to cover – as you’ve said yourself – a multitude of sins.’
‘Do you think that’s what Rosie’s got herself involved in?’ Libby turned to Ben.
‘Could be.’
Libby picked up her mug and sipped while she thought.
‘Do you suppose,’ she said at length, ‘that Bruno51, whoever he is, was in touch with Marion Longfellow and encouraged her to join this coven, or whatever it is? And that’s why the feathers and pentagram were left with her body. She stepped out of line?’
‘Possible,’ said Peter, ‘but what about the other woman? She wasn’t on the dating site, was she?’
‘Oh, yes. That’s the stumbling block. Perhaps she found out about it?’
‘The witchcraft or the dating site?’ asked Harry. ‘Which would she be most shocked about?’
‘The witchcraft, I suppose,’ said Libby. ‘She was very churchy.’
‘But so was the other one according to what you’d heard,’ said Ben.
‘That was why the first one was so shocked. The other one pretended to be churchy and was a secret witch,’ said Harry. ‘So, if this theory is true, where will Rosie be going tonight? S’obvious, innit?’
‘The Willoughby Oak!’ gasped Libby.
‘Our Fran thinks it all goes off there, doesn’t she. Bet that’s it.’
The other three stared at him admiringly.
‘You’ve been practising,’ said Peter, patting his leg. ‘For that, I shall make more tea. Unless anyone wants something stronger?’
Ben sighed. ‘Better not. I have a feeling we might be going out tonight.’
‘No,’ said Libby firmly. ‘We’re not. You’ve already had your share of Hetty’s lovely Shiraz, so have I, and we are not going to risk being breathalyzed. So yes, please, Pete. I’d like a glass of wine.’
Ben laughed. ‘All right, so would I. Thanks, Pete.’
‘So what will you do when the Rosie-bird calls you in a panic later on?’ asked Harry. ‘Call a taxi?’
‘Dial 999, I expect,’ said Libby. ‘The police are slightly better able to deal with a possibly dangerous situation than we are.’
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ said Peter, coming in with a bottle and glasses.
‘I’m just being a good girl,’ beamed Libby. ‘I’m not saying I won’t get involved in things in the future, because I think life would be very boring if I didn’t have something to do with my time, but in this case I
think Rosie’s put herself in a very dangerous situation, even if it isn’t the whole witchy thing, and I think us going in would make it worse.’
Ben, Peter and Harry looked at each other in amazement.
‘I never thought I’d see the day,’ said Harry. ‘Someone’s taken our old trout away and put a ringer in her place.’
Between them, they finished Peter’s bottle of wine, then Ben and Libby walked home along the dark high street. On Sunday evening, even the eight-til-late was closed, and only the yellow light from the small pub windows spilled out on to the pavement.
‘Do you think Harry’s right about Rosie?’ Libby asked as they turned the corner into Allhallow’s Lane. ‘That she’s going to some kind of Black Magic ritual?’
‘It’s a feasible theory, but it is all built on sand and speculation,’ said Ben. ‘I still think you might get a panic call later, as Harry does.’
Despite Libby’s intention to keep out of the whole business, she found herself restless, her thoughts constantly turning to Rosie and the possible identity of Bruno51. If, of course, he was the murderer. Eventually, she left Ben in solitary charge of the sofa and the television, and took the laptop into the kitchen.
First, she tried to find significant dates for the celebration of Black Masses, or rituals, but nothing, not even the phases of the moon coincided with today’s date. But then, she decided, if there was a coven meeting at the Willoughby Oak, it appeared to be simply for nefarious purposes, just as those she and Fran had learned about years ago, so the date didn’t actually matter.
So, were they right in the assumption that the Willoughby Oak was somehow connected to the murders of Marion Longfellow and Joan Bidwell? Only, Libby realised, because of the very obvious pointers that seemed to draw attention to the involvement of Black Magic, or Satanism. And that argued someone seeking to divert attention towards it and away from someone else. Away from what? Drugs? But then drugs were likely to be involved with the coven. Libby scowled at the screen. It was all so confusing.
And what about Felling? Where did that come in? Just the knowledge that there was a police observation operation based on the quay? Then of course, there was the Rupert Bear theory, with drugs being landed at the inlet and smuggled up a tunnel to – oh, yes, to the Willoughby Oak.
And the possibility of Bruno51 being Marion Longfellow’s killer. Now, why had they thought that? Libby frowned. Oh, yes, it had been Rosie’s original suggestion. And now Rosie was presumably testing the theory. Libby sighed with frustration just as her phone rang.
Chapter Thirty-two
‘Lib, something’s happening.’ Fran’s voice was quavery, and Libby felt a rush of adrenalin.
‘What? What did you see?’
‘You remember those horrible suffocating feelings I used to get?’
‘Oh, God. When you knew someone was dead.’
‘Yes. All I could see was a face. I don’t know whose it was. But it’s to do with this.’
‘Have you called Ian?’
‘No. How can I say?’
‘Call him,’ said Libby. ‘I’ve left two messages about Rosie today, and he’ll need to know. If he’s not answering, leave a message.’
‘What about Rosie?’ Fran’s voice rose higher.
Libby explained. ‘Now, go on, call him and come back to me.’
‘What was that all about?’ asked Ben, coming into the kitchen. Libby told him.
‘What did I tell you?’ said Ben. ‘Panic phone call. You’re not going to be able to get out of this one.’
‘But it wasn’t Rosie.’
‘No, but how do you know it isn’t about Rosie?’
The phone rang again.
‘I’ve left messages on both his phones,’ said Fran. ‘What shall I do?’
‘Oh, lord. I said if I heard from Rosie I’d call 999, but we can’t phone with your sort of information.’
‘Where did you say you thought Rosie might have gone/’
‘Harry suggested the Willoughby Oak.’
‘Then we must go there.’
‘Hang on, Fran, Ben and I have both been drinking. We can’t go out there.’
‘I haven’t. I’ll come and get you. We’ve got to go.’
‘That’ll take ages,’ said Libby. ‘Much quicker if you go straight there and take Guy with you.’
‘I can’t!’ Fran’s voice was almost hysterical now, which was most unlike her. ‘He’s gone up to London for some exhibition.’
‘Is Adam there?’
‘No, he and Sophie are out somewhere.’
Libby looked helplessly at Ben, who was taking his own phone out of his pocket.
‘Well, you’re not going anywhere on your own,’ she said. ‘Hang on, Ben’s thought of something.’
He was already talking. ‘I know it’s unconventional, but – yes, exactly. Will you? Thank you so much. You know? Yes, of course you do. Thank you.’ He turned to Libby. ‘Our fresh-faced Sergeant Maiden. He’s going to come by and pick us up. Fran can meet us there. Tell her not to get out of her car.’
Libby repeated the instructions to Fran. ‘And don’t go right up to the tree, either. Maiden’s going out on a limb for us here, we don’t want to make things more difficult for him.’
Sergeant Maiden found Libby and Ben waiting for him on the corner of Allhallow’s Lane.
‘Not sure I should be doing this,’ he said cheerfully, ‘but I know DCI Connell trusts Mrs Wolfe’s instincts, and as he’s not here –’
‘Yes, where is he?’ asked Libby as she settled into the back of the car. ‘I’ve left messages for him on both his mobiles today, and so has Fran. Mind you he probably thinks we’re pestering him for the sake of it.’
‘He’s gone up to Scotland to see family,’ said Maiden. ‘A wedding or something. He went at lunchtime.’
‘Oh, dear, no wonder he wasn’t answering his phone,’ said Libby.
‘Oh, the wedding’s tomorrow. He’ll be back on Tuesday. He flew up.’
‘Oh.’ Libby felt an immediate let-down. No Ian as back-up.
‘So Mrs Wolfe thinks someone’s died?’ continued Maiden swinging off down a high-sided lane that led into complete blackness.
‘She’s not sure, but she had the same feeling that she had before, when somebody actually had. If that makes sense.’ Libby sighed. None of this was making any sense, really.
Suddenly, Libby realised they were slowing down just before the lane that led to the Willoughby Oak and the woods on the Dunton Estate. And there was Fran’s car. Maiden switched off his lights. As they got out of his car, Fran got out of hers.
‘Is there anybody there?’ whispered Maiden, pulling up a hood to cover his bright hair.
‘I’ve seen a few small lights, and I think there’s a fire, but I can’t hear anything.’ Fran was shivering.
‘Let me go first,’ said Maiden. ‘I don’t want to use my torch if possible.’ He looked at Ben, who nodded.
‘Stay here, girls,’ he said, and set off slowly behind the disappearing figure of the sergeant.
Fran and Libby stood huddled together in silence, peering into the darkness. Suddenly, Libby heard a sound behind her. Heart leaping into her mouth she turned, in time to see a shadowy figure slip into the trees.
‘We’ll have to go after the men and tell them,’ whispered Fran, who’d also seen it. ‘Come on.’
They began to pick their way along the rutted path, with nothing but a couple of pinpricks of light ahead of them. Not knowing what they might find, Libby felt as frightened as she ever had in her life. At last, she could make out the crouching shapes of Ben and Sergeant Maiden ahead.
‘I told you to stay where you were,’ whispered Ben.
‘No, but Sergeant, someone was back there! They went into the woods,’ Libby whispered urgently.
Maiden stood up. ‘I don’t think there’s anyone here now,’ he said, ‘although there has been. Did you see just one person?’
‘Think so,’ said Libby, and Fran
nodded.
‘It looks as though they were all going then. However many of them there were.’ He turned to Fran. ‘Do you think they heard or saw you?’
‘They might have heard the car engine, but I’d turned off my lights.’
‘Well, I’ll never find whoever went into the woods, but I’d better go and check this site out. Stay here.’ Libby saw him take something out of his pocket and realised it was a telescopic baton. He wasn’t taking any chances.
He moved very slowly round the perimeter of the site, and now Libby could see the remains of a fire just the other side of the tree. Suddenly he straightened up and disappeared behind it. Reappearing a moment later, they all saw he had his phone to his ear.
He came back to them. ‘Well, Mrs Wolfe,’ he said in a normal voice, ‘you’ve done it again. We’ve found a body.’
Ben and Libby caught Fran as she began to sag.
‘Who is it?’ asked Libby in a tight voice. ‘Is it Rosie?’
‘Is that Mrs George? I don’t think so,’ said Maiden. ‘I haven’t touched anything yet, and there’s a cloak over the body. I’m waiting for back up-now.’ He looked from one to the other of them. ‘I don’t know quite what to do with you all.’
‘We’d go home if we could. I’m not sure how you’re going to explain why you were here,’ said Libby.
‘Me neither.’ Maiden heaved a deep sigh. ‘Mr Connell would choose this weekend to go away. It’ll have to be the super. Meanwhile, how are you going to get home?’
‘Could we all squeeze into Fran’s Smart car?’ Ben asked dubiously. ‘If she’s fit to drive.’
‘Of course I am,’ said Fran from her place seated on the floor. ‘I’m fine now.’ And indeed, thought Libby, she sounded much stronger. She helped her friend to her feet.
‘I think we can squeeze in, somehow.’ Fran brushed herself down. ‘And I don’t think it’s Rosie. Did you actually check that the – the -person was dead, Sergeant?’
Maiden jumped. ‘Bollocks! No I didn’t.’ He turned and almost ran back behind the tree, and as he did, they heard vehicles approaching and saw blue lights sending their eerie intermittent warning through the night. Maiden appeared again.
‘There’s a faint pulse,’ he said. ‘Can you direct them to me?’ He disappeared and Fran followed him.
Murder by Magic Page 23
