‘And the bridge? I understand that was sabotaged?’
God, he knew everything.
‘Peter – Mr Parker – thought so. He was the one who fell in.’
‘And the fire?’
‘The investigator thought it might be local kids.’ Libby took a deep breath. She could feel panic rising. ‘That was last night. When was Paula – er – found?’
‘This morning, madam. In her car.’
‘Where?’
‘Near her home.’ Libby could almost hear him saying “We’ll ask the questions”, but he didn’t.
‘Who found her?’
‘Dr David Dedham.’
‘Oh, lord. Well, I suppose he was able to do anything necessary.’
‘There wasn’t much anyone could do, madam. Miss Wentworth had been dead some hours by the time she was found.’
‘Oh.’ Libby swallowed hard, trying not to imagine the body of Paula gradually stiffening, and worse, in her little blue car. ‘How was she – I mean, did you …’
‘Could I ask you what you were doing between midnight and six o’clock this morning, Mrs Sarjeant? Just for the record.’ DS Cole’s moustache was virtually twitching with anticipation as he ignored Libby’s question.
‘Oh, golly.’ Libby tried to force her mind back to last night. ‘Well, I went to supper with a Mrs Carpenter in the village, then I went to see Peter Parker and his friend Harry Price, then I came home. Mrs Wilde from the Manor phoned me to tell me about the fire at about seven this morning and woke me up.’
‘And were you alone, madam?’ DS Cole stared at her.
‘Yes.’ Libby suppressed a feeling of indignation. Who did he think he was, asking all these questions?
‘Thank you,’ he said, suddenly standing up. ‘You’ve been most helpful.’ I have? thought Libby. ‘First of all, would you read over the notes DC Burnham has taken and sign them if you think they’re correct? And if you wouldn’t mind coming in to the station at some time over the next couple of days to sign a statement?’
‘Of course.’ Libby stood up, flicked through the proffered notebook and signed at the end of the notes. ‘Does it matter when?’
‘Several of your friends are coming in, so perhaps you could travel together.’ DS Cole ushered DC Burnham to the door, his hand unnecessarily close to her bottom. ‘Thank you, madam.’
Libby closed the door behind them and watched surreptitiously through the window as they got into the dark saloon and reversed too fast down Allhallow’s Lane. She reached for the phone.
‘Pete? They’ve gone.’
‘Meet you in the pub in five minutes, then. Or do you want to come here?’
‘I don’t mind. I just want some answers.’
‘Pub, then. I’ll call Ben and James.’
The pub was packed, and as Libby pushed her way towards Peter standing at the bar, she was aware of curious glances being sent in her direction. Peter turned and put a drink in her hand.
‘Good timing,’ he said. ‘Ben and Harry are over in the corner. We managed to get a table, God knows how.’
‘So what happened?’ Libby squeezed in beside Harry at the small table. She looked from one drawn face to the other. ‘Ben? What happened?’
Ben drew in a deep breath and looked at her briefly. ‘David found her in her car.’
‘I know that. The police told me. But when? Do they think it was to do with the fire?’
Ben looked up quickly. ‘What makes you say that? Did they say something?’
‘No, they didn’t even seem very interested. Just wanted to know where I was during the night. Sidney didn’t provide a reliable alibi.’
The weak joke fell flat, as she’d known it would. Harry still hadn’t looked up. She touched his arm.
‘Harry? I didn’t think you knew her very well?’
‘Well, you can think again, dear heart,’ said Peter, sitting down suddenly between Libby and Ben. ‘I think “very well” covers it, don’t you, Hal?’
Libby stared, her mouth open. Ben caught her eye and gave her a twisted grin. ‘What did I tell you? Female piranha.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Libby looked down in to her glass.
‘There’s no need for any comment, thanks,’ said Harry.
An uncomfortable silence followed, while Libby wiped droplets off her glass with a fingertip, Ben drummed his fingers on the table while gazing off into the distance, Peter stared at Harry and Harry scowled at the table.
Eventually, Libby cleared her throat. ‘I thought you wanted to meet up, Pete? Not much point if we’re not going to talk, is there?’
Everyone shifted in their seats and looked at everyone else.
Peter sighed. ‘You’re right. So,’ he leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, ‘what did the estimable Mr Cole say to you?’
‘Well, he told me David had found – er – her, she’d been dead some hours and he obviously knew all about you and James and the theatre. That’s all.’
‘That’s it, in a nutshell.’ Ben finished the drink in front of him. ‘My poor brother-in-law is very shaken up. He found her when he was on his rounds, tucked into the woods on the side of Lendle Lane.’
‘That was where she lived, wasn’t it?’ asked Libby.
‘Yes. A no-through road. She always parked her car opposite her house under the trees.’
‘So how did David come to see her? Where was he going?’ asked Harry.
‘To see a patient further up the lane, apparently.’ Ben shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me why he stopped and looked in her car.’
‘How did she – I mean, did David say –’
‘How she died? No. The police didn’t say, either, but I suppose there’s no doubt. If it might be an accident they’d be dealing with it differently, surely?’
‘So how come they got on to us?’ Libby asked, after a moment.
‘David told them about James and when they got in touch with Millie, she told them about the theatre and the play and all of us.’
‘Thank you, Mother.’ Peter looked round at the glasses. ‘Anyone ready for another?’
‘I’ll get them,’ said Ben, and began to make his way to the bar.
‘Do they think this is anything to do with the theatre?’ Libby chewed her lip anxiously. ‘I mean, it can’t be, can it?’
‘They were very interested in all our little accidents,’ said Harry. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t grill you about them more.’
‘I told you, they didn’t seem all that interested. Just in my movements.’
‘They’re more interested in our Paula’s relationships, which includes James, Ben – my God, I didn’t know about that one – Harry, and by association, me.’ Peter looked at Harry.
‘You?’ said Libby.
‘In case I was murderously jealous.’
‘Oh.’
Harry looked up under his eyebrows. ‘As if,’ he said.
‘Listen, this is private, between you two,’ said Libby uncomfortably. ‘I shouldn’t be listening.’
‘PC Plod knows, so why not you?’ Peter said reasonably.
‘And how did he find out?’
‘I told him.’ Harry looked away.
‘What?’ Libby gasped. ‘Why?’
‘Because they always find out in the end, and I’m sick of reading those books where some idiot keeps things to himself and makes things worse. And on telly. Stupid.’
Libby looked at Peter, who shrugged.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I told them about Paula being pregnant. Inadvertently. I assumed she’d died because of the baby. But they didn’t know about it. They hadn’t got the post-mortem results yet.’
‘They wouldn’t have. It’s not being done until tomorrow.’ Ben appeared with fresh glasses.
‘I had a message from James as well. Didn’t he tell them?’
‘Obviously not.’ Ben lifted his glass but didn’t drink.
‘Is he coming here?’
‘No.’ Peter looked a
t Harry quickly. ‘He’s with Mum.’
‘Ah.’ Libby looked surreptitiously at them all and decided this whole gathering was a pointless exercise. She took a swallow of her fresh drink and stood up. ‘Let me know what you decide about the play. I’ll have to go along with the rest of you.’
‘You going?’ Harry looked up, surprised.
‘Not much point in staying. None of us is exactly convivial. I’d better go home and phone the cast.’
‘I told you, I’d already cancelled rehearsal,’ said Peter.
‘I know, but they need to know what’s happening in the long term,’ said Libby, and saw his face redden as he looked down at his drink. ‘Oh. You’ve already taken the decision without telling me.’
‘Be fair, Lib. You weren’t there to ask,’ said Ben.
Libby didn’t trust herself to speak and nodded. Peter stood up and kissed her on the cheek.
‘See you tomorrow,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’
Libby nodded again and turned to go, lifting a hand to the table in general. Ben lifted a hand in response, looking bewildered, and Harry winked.
Outside the pub the wind was getting up. It whipped Libby’s cape backwards and brought tears to her eyes – or increased them, at any rate, she thought, feeling foolish as she started to battle up the High Street.
‘Oi, wait up, petal.’ A hand fell on her shoulder and she turned to see Harry grinning down at her.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Thought you might like an escort. You looked a bit upset.’
‘That’s kind, Harry, but I’m OK.’
‘Maybe, but I needed the excuse.’
Despite herself, Libby laughed. ‘Getting a bit heavy in there, was it?’
‘Just a bit. Might be dossing down on your sofa.’
‘I’ve got a perfectly good spare room, and you know it.’ Libby grinned up at him and tucked her arm through his. ‘Nice navy sheets and all.’
Sidney was waiting as usual and, after sniffing at Harry’s feet, led the way to the kitchen complaining loudly that he hadn’t been fed for at least a fortnight. Harry allowed himself to be convinced and rummaged round the kitchen to find some cat food.
‘Don’t believe him,’ said Libby pouring water into mugs. ‘You did want coffee, didn’t you?’
‘Rather have something stronger,’ said Harry, peering over her shoulder. ‘I’m in shock.’
‘So you are.’ Libby raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, have this as well. Scotch? I think I’ve replaced it.’
‘Ben drink the last lot?’
‘Sort of.’ Libby felt herself flushing.
Settled either side of the fire, Libby tucked her feet under her and lit a cigarette. ‘I really should stop this,’ she said.
‘Not right now, ducks. Wrong time altogether.’ Harry stared into the fire, his transient ebullience gone.
Libby let the silence drift for a little longer. Then: ‘I’m supposed to be the one who’s upset. Come on, you wanted a shoulder, didn’t you?’
Harry looked up with a quick grin. ‘Absolutely. Unshockable, that’s you.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’
‘Oh, go on with you. Anyway, I couldn’t cope with all the angst in the family. Sometimes I feel stifled.’
Libby nodded. ‘They can be a bit much.’
‘All for one and one for all. Even when Millie’s as mad as a box of frogs.’
‘That’s why they all turned against me about the play, isn’t it?’
Harry sighed. ‘Yes, I think so. Not that Pete said, actually, but yes, it was.’
‘Left us in the cold, haven’t they?’
Harry sighed again. ‘I deserve it. You don’t.’
Libby stared at his bent head. ‘Come on, then,’ she said. ‘Why?’
Chapter Thirteen
HARRY WAS SILENT FOR so long that Libby thought he wasn’t going to answer, until he looked up, knocked back his whisky and cleared his throat.
‘It was just after you started work on the play. Remember when Pete went off up to Cumbria or somewhere?’
‘Northumbria, yes,’ corrected Libby.
‘Wherever. Only a few months after you moved in, anyway.’
‘Three,’ said Libby.
‘All right, all right, do you want to know or not?’
‘Only if you want to tell me.’
Harry gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I don’t know who’s supposed to be comforting who here.’
‘I know, you’re in shock.’
He had the grace to look abashed. ‘Yeah, I know. So are you. Well, anyway, we’re talking February or something, aren’t we?’
‘I think so. Can’t really remember.’
‘Well, it was cold. And Pete was away.’ Harry paused and stared in to the fire. ‘And one night Paula comes into the caff for dinner – on her own – and says her electricity’s off. So,’ he took a deep breath, ‘after we’d closed up, I walked her home to check it out.’
‘The fuses?’
‘Yeah, and to make sure everything was all right … you know. No intruders, or anything.’
‘Was this her idea or yours?’
‘Well, hers, I suppose. I mean, I said I’d walk her home. After all, she does live right up at the top of the village. And that lane’s very dark.’
‘Yes, all right, Harry, there’s no need for excuses about that. You were being a gentleman.’
Harry crowed. ‘And there’s freaky.’
‘You can still be good mannered AND gay, surely.’
‘Yeah, well.’ Harry stared in to the fire again. ‘Well, anyway, I went in. Flashed the torch about a bit. And then – well, you know.’
Libby smiled at his bent head. ‘I expect I do know, but what I don’t understand is how it came about. You were hardly likely to leap on her, were you?’
‘She thought she heard a noise.’ Harry didn’t look up.
‘Ah.’ Libby smiled again. ‘And threw herself into your arms?’
‘That sort of thing, yeah,’ said Harry looking up. ‘And then she started – well, saying she could turn me. You’ve no idea how many women think that.’
‘And she was obviously right.’
‘Not really.’ Harry leaned back in the chair and waggled his glass. ‘Any more?’
Libby got up to give him a refill. ‘Go on. Why was she not right?’
‘I’ve been a bit ambivalent in the past. Wanted to try it all, just to make sure I wasn’t missing out on anything. And let’s face it, anything’ll do for the stimulation, won’t it?’
Libby raised her eyebrows. ‘Maybe for men. Us women need the mental and emotional aspect, too.’
‘Well, believe me, there was no emotional aspect about this. It was a straightforward shag, no frills. She knew, too. She didn’t come over all peculiar next time she saw me, or anything. Didn’t even think she’d had me on the turn, either.’ Harry sounded morose.
‘And Pete found out?’
‘I bloody told him, didn’t I? How stupid can you get?’
‘Oh, Harry,’ Libby shook her head at him. ‘When did you tell him?’
‘When she and James went away for that weekend. He was moaning about James getting caught up with her again and – well, it just sort of came out.’
‘But you smoothed it over?’
‘Just about. He hated it, on all sorts of levels, but he came round. I had to do a hell of a lot of buttering up.’ Harry paused and looked up. ‘Trouble is, when it happened.’
‘What do you mean, when it happened?’
‘Just before that weekend.’
Libby frowned. ‘I don’t understand …’ she began, and then she did. ‘Oh. Oh, Harry.’
‘Well, it could be mine, couldn’t it? I mean, I don’t carry condoms around with me. And I don’t even have the excuse of thinking we were in a regular relationship. Oh, shit.’
‘And the police know all this?’
‘Not about the baby. You said they d
idn’t know she was pregnant. I mean, she never said anything to me. It was only to James, and we all know why that was. She knew she wouldn’t stand a chance with me.’
‘But the police know that you had a fling? How?’
‘Again, it sort of came out. When that copper came to see us. Pete went all grande dame and somehow it slipped out. And then of course, they started on both of us.’
‘What a mess, Harry.’ Libby stared in to the fire. ‘And what about James? And Ben?’
‘Well, James was obvious, and Ben owned up. Mind you, I don’t think Ben actually did anything with her. He was too drunk, and he never liked her anyway.’
‘According to you,’ said Libby with a scowl, ‘that doesn’t mean anything.’
‘It does as you get older.’ Harry looked uncomfortable.
Libby thought for a moment. ‘I don’t get it,’ she said eventually. ‘David found the – er – the – Paula, he called the police, then what happened? Why did they start talking to everybody?’
‘David said Paula was engaged to James. He didn’t have James’s number, so he gave them Millie’s. It sort of went on from there. Ben came to ours, and PC Plod and the little Plodette came to us after they’d seen Millie. James arrived while they were talking to her. Once she’d started they couldn’t shut her up, apparently.’
‘So did she tell them about the accidents?’
‘Oh, yes. Full of them, she was. It was a judgement and all that.’
‘A judgement? Good God. I knew she wanted to stop us, but I didn’t know it was that serious.’ Libby sighed. ‘Well, she’s got her way now, hasn’t she?’
A nasty little silence fell, and slowly Libby looked up to meet Harry’s eyes.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ she said in a cracked voice.
Harry cleared his throat. ‘I know.’
Another silence fell, until a log settled in the fireplace with a hiss and broke the spell. Libby got up and went to fetch the whisky bottle.
‘I need more of this,’ she said.
‘It wasn’t Millie, Lib. It couldn’t have been Millie.’
‘No, of course not. Why on earth would she do something like that? I don’t even think she did the other things, so why this?’
Harry shook his head. ‘No idea. Well … anyway, if Millie didn’t set up the accidents, who did?’
Murder in Steeple Martin - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series Page 12
