‘Come on, Lib, what are you thinking?’ Peter came round the bar and began to dry glasses. ‘Don’t start being nosy just for the sake of it.’
‘I know,’ sighed Libby. ‘I just want to get to the bottom of it. Don’t you?’
‘No. I don’t want anything more to do with it,’ said Peter. ‘I just want my life to go back to normal. And so should you.’
There was no more opportunity for conversation after that, as Stephen and several members of the back-stage crew drifted in wanting to hear about James’s ordeal. Ben appeared during the interval, and after being introduced to Belinda, Dominic and Adam, took them in charge and gave them as much of a guided tour as was possible. To Libby’s surprise, just as the audience was going back into the auditorium, David turned up, looking even more harassed than usual.
‘David!’ said Libby, surprised. ‘Are you all right? Can I get you a drink?’
Ben and Peter appeared either side of him.
‘Oh, a beer, please,’ said David. ‘Whatever you’ve got. What does everybody else want?’
‘Give the man a pint, Lib,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll get it. And whatever Pete’s having.’
‘How’s Mum?’ said Peter. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Fine, fine,’ said David, taking a grateful swig of his beer. ‘James phoned her, but I don’t think she realises what’s been going on. Very relieved about James, Pete, goes without saying.’
‘Thanks,’ said Peter, gruffly.
‘Libby, sorry I was a bit – er –’
‘Grumpy?’ suggested Libby.
‘Rude,’ said David with a wry grin. ‘I can’t stand this police attitude that they can question anybody with impunity.’
‘But they can,’ said Ben. ‘They have to. I know they can seem rather insensitive …’
‘Look at the way they hauled poor old James in,’ continued David, as if Ben hadn’t spoken. ‘Just because she was supposed to be expecting his baby.’
‘Supposed to be?’ said Peter.
There was a short silence. ‘I don’t know, do I?’ said David eventually. ‘I only know what’s been said. I thought that was the general idea?’
‘Do you know the results of the post-mortem, David?’ asked Libby. ‘Wouldn’t they tell you, as a doctor and the person who discovered the body?’
‘I haven’t asked,’ said David huffily. ‘I didn’t even pronounce her dead. The police surgeon did that.’
‘Come on, Lib, it doesn’t matter any more,’ said Peter. ‘Leave it alone.’
Libby sighed and smiled and returned to her washing up. Ben and Peter took David over to one of the tables by the window.
It was just before the end of the play when he came back to Libby at the bar.
‘Libby, I think there’s something you ought to know,’ he said, leaning forward almost conspiratorially.
‘Oh? What about?’
‘This isn’t really the place to talk about it.’ He looked briefly over his shoulder to where Ben and Peter still sat at the table.
‘Is it Millie?’
‘Not exactly. Look, Libby, if I could pop by just to have a word later, perhaps?’
‘Sorry David, but later would be about midnight by the time I’ve closed the bar and the theatre, and I’ve got my children staying this weekend. They’re in there watching now.’ Libby didn’t mention the planned visit to The Pink Geranium in case David decided to gate-crash.
‘Oh, right.’ He frowned. ‘I really am sorry, but I think it might be – well – urgent. I just don’t want to say anything …’ Once again, he looked towards Ben and Peter. Which of them he was worried about Libby couldn’t tell.
‘Shall I pop in to the surgery tomorrow morning?’ she asked. ‘Or don’t you have a surgery on Saturdays?’
‘Emergencies only,’ said David, ‘but I’m often in there catching up on paper-work. If you’re sure you don’t mind? Only it’s been worrying me.’
Intrigued, Libby confirmed that she wouldn’t mind at all, and looking more or less satisfied, David said goodbye, waved at Ben and Peter and left.
‘What was all that about?’ asked Peter, bringing their empty glasses over just as a burst of clapping heralded the end of the play.
‘He was still apologising,’ said Libby. ‘He’s very concerned about Millie, you know, Pete.’
‘I know he is,’ sighed Peter. ‘He’s a good bloke, David. Just a bit dull.’
‘What an indictment!’ said Ben, coming up behind. ‘My poor brother-in-law.’
‘Well, he is. Whoops – here we go. Prepare for more compliments, Lib.’
The doors to the auditorium were hooked back and the audience began to emerge. First to appear were Belinda, Dominic and Adam, who made a concerted rush towards their mother. Peter shooed her out from behind the bar and took her place, and for ten minutes she basked in the admiration of her family, while fielding more compliments from other members of the public.
To her surprise, DCI Murray appeared with a pretty, plump woman clinging to his arm.
‘Des Cole said how good it was,’ said Murray, holding out a hand and looking embarrassed. ‘We were lucky to get tickets.’
‘I’m glad you did,’ said Libby, delighted. ‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘Oh, it was lovely,’ said the woman, ‘much better than the telly.’
‘My wife,’ introduced DCI Murray. ‘Loves the theatre. Always going to the one in Canterbury.’
‘The Marlowe, you know. I like the musicals,’ confided Mrs Murray.
‘Well, I’m really pleased you came to see us,’ said Libby. ‘Do you like our theatre?’
‘It’s really sweet,’ said Mrs Murray. ‘Just like a real one.’
Libby heard a variety of smothered snorts from her assembled children and hurried on.
‘We’ll have to put you on the mailing list, then,’ she said, guiding the Murrays to the other end of the bar where a perspex container held the newly printed forms. ‘Just fill one of these in and we’ll let you know what’s coming up. We’re hoping to do a pantomime in January.’
‘Oh, lovely!’ exclaimed Mrs Murray. ‘I do love panto. We could bring the grandchildren, Donnie.’
Donnie, glaring at his oblivious wife, muttered what could have been an agreement.
‘And I’m so glad you didn’t have to question Mrs Parker,’ said Libby, turning to him. ‘And so are her sons.’
‘Ah, well, yes,’ mumbled Murray. ‘Can’t really talk about it, now, of course.’
‘No, of course not,’ soothed Libby. ‘But we’re all so grateful that we’re out of the picture.’
DCI Murray looked startled. ‘I wouldn’t quite say that, Mrs Sarjeant.’
‘Oh.’ Libby felt her stomach sink. So it wasn’t over, and now she really would worry about what David was going to tell her. She wished she could talk it over with someone, but it was obviously connected to a member of the family, which precluded everybody as far as she was concerned. Harry, with whom she would normally discuss things, was far too intimately involved. She fleetingly wondered whether to phone Fran, but Fran’s rather odd behaviour over the last couple of days decided her against that.
As she said goodbye to the Murrays and began to clear tables, Belinda came up behind her.
‘What’s up, Mum?’ she said, picking up a couple of glasses.
‘Nothing, darling.’ Libby gave her a bright smile. ‘And you don’t have to do that. I’ll just give Pete a hand and we’ll go. Or you can go to Harry’s on your own. I won’t be long.’
‘I’ll wait for you. I can dry up or something. The boys can go on. Harry’ll love to see them.’
Libby grinned. ‘He’ll flirt madly with them, you mean. Good job they don’t take him seriously.’
As they walked back down the drive a little later, Belinda asked again.
‘Something’s wrong, Mum. What is it? I thought everything was all right now James was home again?’
‘I don’t think it’ll ever be all right,
Bel,’ said Libby. ‘Murder this close to home is cataclysmic. You question everything and everybody you’ve held dear, and it leaves this awful sick feeling in your stomach and your head. You feel you want to clap your hands over your ears and run away, like a child.’
Belinda was silent.
‘Sorry, that was a bit of an outburst, wasn’t it?’ Libby tried a laugh, but it didn’t sound convincing, even to her.
‘It’s fine, Mum. You needed to say it to someone, and I guess you can’t say it to any of your friends here because they’re involved.’
‘That’s it exactly, Bel. I’m so glad you understand. And now David wants to talk to me about something and won’t say what.’
‘David? Oh, Doctor David. Wants to talk to you?’
‘Yes. He came in this evening and had a drink with Ben and Peter. Then he asked if he could talk to me, but said he couldn’t do it then, in front of them. I’m scared, now. I mean, he was the one who found the body. He said earlier he didn’t know anything, but he obviously does.’
‘Do you think it’s something the police don’t know?’ asked Belinda.
‘No idea. The inspector who was here this evening said we weren’t all in the clear, so probably not.’
‘So, are you going to talk to him?’
‘I’m going down to the surgery tomorrow morning. Don’t worry, I won’t wake you before I go.’
Belinda laughed. ‘I’m not so bad now, Mum. I do actually get up before lunchtime. You’ll be back before then, won’t you? The boys’ll want a pint in the pub before we all shoot off.’
‘You don’t have to go tomorrow, you know,’ said Libby. ‘You could always come to the after-show party.’
‘What, with all the luvvies and in-jokes?’ Belinda gave her mother a friendly nudge. ‘And who knows who you might get off with?’
‘Highly unlikely,’ said Libby as they arrived at the door of The Pink Geranium, which was flung open at their approach. ‘Oh, hello, Ben.’
By common consent, and partly because Belinda, Dominic and Adam were present, the subject of murder was avoided for the rest of the evening. Occasionally, Libby caught Ben looking at her speculatively, but he made no move to single her out, and she was forced to the conclusion that his attentions on Tuesday night had been, as she suspected, simply to comfort. Not, she reflected moodily as she and the children walked home, that anything much had happened then. Just a couple of cuddles, that’s all. In fact, David’s revelations could concern Ben, which frightened her even more and made his previous advances slightly sinister.
For once, on going downstairs in the morning, Sidney wasn’t lying in wait on the bottom step, but lay squashed blissfully between the two sleeping bags that were all Libby could see of her sons. She picked her way across them and into the kitchen, where Sidney immediately joined her, loudly demanding breakfast.
‘Shut up, idiot,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll wake them up. And leave the bread bin alone.’
She took her tea and Sidney’s breakfast through to the conservatory and lit the heater. Sidney abandoned her for the great outdoors as soon as he’d cleaned his saucer, and she sat alone, staring into the garden and worrying about what David was going to tell her.
A night’s sleep hadn’t made her feel any better about things. In fact, if anything, she felt worse. There had been a moment, on waking up, when she felt almost normal, then events crowded in on her, her stomach sank and the black cloud descended, like a fall of coal dust, impossible to clear up.
She managed to have breakfast, shower, dress and leave the house without waking her family, and once again walked down Allhallow’s Lane resenting the cheerfulness of spring. The surgery was conveniently placed just round the corner from Maltby Close and the senior citizens who might need it most. Libby found the door unlocked, although the sign said closed, and David behind the reception desk with a pile of buff folders and a gloomy expression.
‘Oh, hi,’ he said. ‘Have you come to save me from all this?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘Have I?’
David sighed. ‘I hate it. I’m trying to put all my notes on to the computer. Let’s have a cup of coffee.’
‘I thought you’d have a secretary to do that?’ said Libby, following him into a little room at the back with a kettle, a sink and a couple of chairs either side of a battered table.
‘I have, and mostly I input as I go along,’ said David, filling the kettle, ‘but on home visits I have to resort to old-fashioned pen and paper. So it all has to be typed up afterwards, and if I leave it for Sally she gets snowed under.’
‘That’s very considerate of you. Perhaps you could have a little laptop? Wouldn’t that make it easier?’ asked Libby, sitting down at the table. ‘So what did you want to talk to me about that you couldn’t say in front of Ben and Peter?’
David didn’t answer until he’d put two mugs of coffee on the table between them.
‘Two things, really,’ he said, not looking at her. ‘The first one – well, I did know Paula.’
‘Well, yes,’ said Libby, surprised. ‘We know you did. Everybody did.’
‘Yes, but I knew her better than I let you think.’ David wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Libby gasped. ‘David! You didn’t?’
‘What?’ He looked up, startled. ‘Oh, no, of course not. No, but er – when she went away – you know, she – er, well, she sort of – made a pass at me.’
‘Really? It doesn’t surprise me. How did it come about?’
David’s shoulders relaxed. ‘She was registered with me then. I wouldn’t take her on the list when she came back to the village.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Libby tried not to smile, but the thought of the upright David being seduced by Paula was really quite funny. ‘So what was the other thing?’
‘About Millie.’
‘Millie? Last night you said it wasn’t about Millie.’
‘I said not exactly,’ said David, pulling at his tie. ‘Not actually Millie.’
Libby frowned at the tasteful “Sights of Sussex” tea towel draped artistically over the sink. ‘What, then?’
‘I’ve had a chance to have a really good look at her over the last few days.’
‘I know. That’s why you were being so protective of her. You think she’s going senile, don’t you?’
David winced. ‘She’s showing signs of early dementia, yes, but basically she’s had a sort of minor breakdown. In layman’s terms. She’ll probably recover, and she might even be able to go back home and live on her own for a while longer.’
‘That’ll be a relief for the boys,’ said Libby. ‘So what’s the problem?’
‘Arthritis.’
‘Arthritis?’ Libby was surprised. ‘She doesn’t look as though she’s got arthritis.’
‘All arthritis doesn’t present as bent and crippled,’ said David, loftily. ‘But if you’ve got it – ordinary osteo-arthritis, that is – which you probably have, at your age, it does curtail your activities somewhat.’
‘Which means?’ said Libby, with a sense of foreboding.
‘Millie couldn’t have cut that steel wire.’
Chapter Thirty-one
I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED this, thought Libby, still staring at David as though he’d suddenly grown another head. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable.
‘And the bridge?’ she said finally.
‘No way.’ He shook his head. ‘Climbing down there and sawing through those planks. Honestly, can you see it?’
‘No. I always said I couldn’t see her cutting that steel wire. Climbing up into the flies – ridiculous. I think I always knew.’
‘Flies?’
‘The top of the stage. Where the lighting bars are – that sort of thing. That’s where the roof hung before we had the accident.’ Libby remembered her coffee and took a sip. It wasn’t very good. ‘So what did she do?’
‘The fire. The other incidents gave her the idea.’
‘But how much did she know abo
ut the other incidents? I can’t see Peter rushing off to tell her.’
‘Hetty knew. And Lenny. They were bound to tell her.’
‘Or someone else,’ said Libby, a horrible fear taking hold of her.
‘What do you mean, someone else?’
‘The murderer.’
They sat looking at one another in silence. David had gone pale, Libby noticed, and wondered exactly who he was worried about. She was just worried about everybody.
‘Oh, God, this is awful,’ she burst out. ‘I’ve got to get back to the children.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘David, what are we going to do?’
‘Do?’ He looked surprised. ‘Why?’
‘Well, the police don’t think the incidents at the theatre are connected to Paula’s death. I’m sure now they are.’
He nodded, still looking bewildered.
‘So that means the murderer is someone we know, because no one outside would know about the theatre and the bridge, would they?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Oh, God, I feel sick.’
‘But you’d thought of all this before, hadn’t you?’ said David. ‘When you thought Millie had caused the accidents.’
‘Yes, but this is worse, somehow. It’s confirmed.’ She walked to the door. ‘Fran knew. She told me it wasn’t Millie. Oh, I don’t know.’
‘Take it easy,’ said David, standing up and reaching out a large hand to pat her on the shoulder.
‘Tell me,’ she said, turning back to face him, ‘why did you tell me this? What good’s it done? And why didn’t you tell the police?’
David looked horrified. ‘Why would I do that? It might put someone we know in danger. Besides, they didn’t know about Millie in the first place. They only wanted to question her because she was James’s mother.’
‘So why were you getting in such a state about it?’
‘I told you, she’s a sick woman, and I don’t like the way the police ride roughshod over everybody.’
Murder in Steeple Martin - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series Page 26
