‘Well, don’t say it in front of them,’ said Harry, suddenly appearing beside her, as a clatter of stones on the wooden steps announced the arrival of three ladies looking remarkably like characters from an Agatha Christie novel, complete with long strings of beads hanging over their long floral frocks.
‘Hoo hoo!’ said the first one. ‘Here we are at last! Come on Honoria, sit over there. Amelia, you can go next to Libby – Harry, dear boy, sit next to me.’
‘Do stop organising us, Alicia,’ said the one referred to as Honoria, in a deep, thundery rumble. ‘We’re not in the classroom now.’
‘No, dear, I know,’ said Alicia, ‘but I’m sure these good people have been wondering why we asked them to Matthew’s funeral in the first place. And I want to get on with it.’
‘We all liked Matthew,’ said Libby, unsure what she was expected to say.
‘Yes, dear, we know. He used to tell us all about the plays and pantomimes you put on in Kent, and he was terribly excited about your lovely theatre. He came to the opening, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did, although that was rather overshadowed –’
‘By a murder. Yes, we know.’ The third member of the trio, Amelia, spoke in a soft, fluttery voice that Libby was certain contained a hint of steel.
‘Um.’ Harry’s voice, unnaturally hesitant, broke in. ‘I hope I’m not going to upset anyone, but Matthew always spoke about four of you.’ He looked questioningly at the three sisters.
They all nodded.
‘Go on, dear,’ said Amelia.
‘That’s just it, you see,’ said Alicia. ‘Celia was our youngest sister. And we think she was murdered.’
There was a moment of shocked silence. Libby thought Honoria was going to burst out with something, but she changed her mind and kept quiet.
Then Alicia spoke again, ‘It’s hard to know where to begin.’ She sighed. ‘But Celia was always the one of us closest to Matthew.’
‘Why is that relevant?’ asked Libby softly, when Alicia seemed unable to go on.
‘Because we’re sure it had something to do with him,’ said Amelia, the harsh note of steel now stronger in her voice.
‘And she never would have gone to the Beach House otherwise,’ added Honoria.
Now thoroughly confused, Libby looked from one to the other of the sisters and frowned. ‘You’re not making this at all clear. Why the Beach House? And why Matthew?’
Alicia sighed again.
‘When we were children, Celia and Matthew were the youngest and closest in age. We know he used to confide in her, and she probably shared things with him she didn’t share with us.’ She glanced at her sisters. ‘Some of us were disapproving.’
Amelia snorted.
‘Anyway, his parents owned the Beach House –’ she gestured vaguely ‘– and Matthew used to go there on his own. We thought it was when he was worried about something. We know he went there if he was in trouble.’
‘What sort of trouble?’ asked Peter.
‘Boys,’ said Honoria. ‘Opened all the lobster pots. Tipped over a tray of crabs. That sort of thing.’
‘And Celia used to go with him,’ said Amelia, with a sniff. ‘He never asked us.’
‘Well, we were older, dear, weren’t we?’ said Alicia gently.
‘When he came back to the island to live,’ continued Honoria, ‘he started going down there again. He’d built that lovely place up there,’ she pointed to the cliff top, ‘near our house, but he still used to go down there, even though it was practically falling down.’
‘He said he ought to do it up, it would be perfect for holiday makers.’ Alicia shook her head. ‘But of course, it wouldn’t.’
‘Why was that?’ asked Ben.
‘Because that’s where Celia was killed,’ said Alicia.
‘Drowned,’ said Amelia.
‘In the storm,’ finished Honoria.
‘How awful!’ Libby was aghast.
‘And she wouldn’t have gone there if it wasn’t for Matthew,’ said Amelia.
‘Did she tell you she was going?’ Peter looked intently at Amelia, who looked away.
‘No,’ said Honoria. ‘We were all too busy looking after Matthew. He’d collapsed, you see.’
‘I’d better tell you about that day,’ said Alicia. ‘It’s beginning to sound muddled even to me. It was a horribly windy day and there was a storm warning. Matthew had seemed very frail over the last few weeks, and when the wind began to get quite violent, I decided to go over to see that he was all right.’
‘Told us not to come,’ said Honoria.
‘You were out in the garden anyway, and Celia … well, Celia had gone out.’ Alicia shook her head. ‘But when I got there, I found Matthew collapsed on the floor by the French windows.’ She paused, no doubt seeing the scene all over again. ‘So I dialled 999 and called the girls over on my mobile phone. Lucky I had one, really, because I had to stay on the line with the operator until the paramedics got here. Well, you know how difficult this place is to get to.’
‘Thank goodness Matthew’s house is at the top of the cove near the road,’ said Ben.
‘Yes, and it was a good job we called then rather than later, because once the storm really hit the Island the poor emergency services were overwhelmed.’
‘So, was it a heart attack?’ asked Peter.
‘Yes – the first. Second one killed him,’ said Amelia.
‘I went with him in the ambulance,’ said Alicia, ‘and then the girls realised that Celia still hadn’t come back.’
‘We knew she had popped out for something,,’ said Honoria, ‘but the car was still there.’
‘Only one between us.’ Amelia shook her head. ‘Stupid idea.’
‘So we tried her mobile phone, we all have one of those,’ continued Honoria with a grim look at Amelia, ‘but she didn’t answer. Couldn’t have gone for a walk, not in that weather, and we didn’t know what to do. Police won’t look for someone who’s only been missing for half an hour.’
‘And then the storm broke. We battened down the hatches and watched.’ Amelia’s voice lost its hard edge. ‘And we watched our lovely cove battered and flooded.’
‘Including the Beach House?’ asked Libby softly.
The three sisters nodded with tears in their eyes.
‘Tea,’ said Harry suddenly, and Libby jumped. It was the first they’d heard from Harry since the story began.
‘God, yes! You came for tea! I’ll put the kettle on. Boys, will you carry out the cakes?’
Alicia gave a trembly laugh. ‘You call them boys, the same as we call each other the girls.’
Libby smiled and patted her on the shoulder. ‘Well, they never grow up, do they?’
When tea had been provided and cake shared, the sisters had recovered their equilibrium.
‘Can you tell us what happened after the storm?’ said Libby.
Alicia put down her cup. ‘Of course, the telephone lines were down, the mobile signals were lost and I was stuck in the hospital at Newport. They wanted to transfer Matthew to the mainland, but the weather was too bad. The ferries were all cancelled and the helicopter couldn’t fly.’
‘And we were stuck in the house,’ said Honoria. ‘It was one of the worst times of our lives. We tried to eat although we couldn’t, the power went off, and we couldn’t sleep.’
‘Especially with all the noise going on,’ said Amelia.
‘As the night went on the storm began to die down, and we both slept a little in our armchairs,’ said Honoria. ‘And when we woke up it was because my mobile phone was ringing.’
‘And that was me,’ said Alicia. ‘Matthew was hooked up to just about everything, but I couldn’t get home because someone at the hospital told me our road was blocked. So I was just letting the girls know. And then they told me Celia was missing.’
‘So then we reported it,’ said Honoria. ‘And later that day, when the clear-up of the cove started, they found her.’
They
fell silent again.
‘And she’d been drowned when the cottage flooded?’ asked Peter.
‘Because she’d been knocked unconscious and left there,’ said Amelia. ‘She’d have got out if she’d been conscious.’
‘Was that proved?’ asked Libby.
‘Oh, yes.’ Amelia was scathing. ‘However incompetent our Island police are, they did at least prove that.’
‘Amelia, they are not incompetent.’ Alicia’s voice was sharp. ‘They did everything they could.’
‘When did you tell Matthew about Celia?’ asked Harry suddenly. They all looked at him.
‘Ah – you’re thinking that was what killed him?’ Alicia smiled at him. ‘Yes, in a way, I suppose it did, although not immediately. We couldn’t tell him until he was well enough, and there was all the business of the post-mortem so he didn’t miss the funeral – or at least, he wouldn’t have if he’d been well enough to attend – but he just seemed to be sunk in a sort of depression. He hardly spoke, he wouldn’t eat, nothing.’ She shook her head.
‘So we brought him home,’ said Honoria, ‘and put him in Celia’s room. We looked after him as much as we could, but the nurses came in, too. And then, two weeks ago, he had the second attack. He had written some letters, though. He asked the nurse to post them.’ She looked enquiringly at Harry, who shook his head.
‘How terribly sad for you all,’ said Libby after a moment.
‘I’m sorry to ask,’ said Harry, ‘but you said you thought Celia had been murdered. That sounds as though the police don’t, yet you said they’d proved she’d been knocked on the head.’
‘They think she slipped and hit her head trying to escape,’ said Alicia.
‘Rubbish,’ said Amelia.
‘But –’ began Libby, with a glance at Harry, ‘– why would you think she was murdered? Had somebody threatened her?’
‘And you said she wouldn’t have gone down there if it hadn’t been for Matthew. Don’t you know why she went? Didn’t he tell you?’ Harry was leaning forward in his chair.
All three shook their heads.
‘Does that mean nobody threatened her? Or Matthew didn’t tell you? Or both?’ asked Libby.
‘Both,’ they said together.
Libby, Peter, Ben, and Harry exchanged glances. Harry gave a slight shrug. Libby took a deep breath.
‘Then I can’t see why you think she was murdered, except that she had a bump on her head which caused her to lose consciousness and drown,’ she said.
‘It didn’t seem –’ began Alicia, but Amelia broke in.
‘Don’t beat about the bush, Alicia.’ She turned to Libby. ‘Matthew was becoming very frail and had seemed quite depressed in the last month before he collapsed.’
Amelia nodded. ‘We all asked him if anything was wrong, and he wouldn’t tell us.’
‘But we’re sure he did tell Celia,’ said Alicia. ‘She’d been to see him the previous evening and spent a long time over there. She was very vague about it when she got back.’
Ben frowned. ‘I still don’t see what she would have gone down there for, though.’
‘To find something?’ suggested Peter.
‘To meet someone,’ said Libby. ‘That’s what you think, don’t you?’
‘Well, yes,’ said Alicia. ‘Not just to find something.’
‘Unless,’ said Harry, ‘she was to find something and hand it over to someone.’
‘Something Matthew had hidden there?’ said Peter.
‘That could be it!’ Amelia sounded excited. ‘Something – I don’t know – damaging.’
‘But damaging to who?’ said Harry.
‘Whom,’ corrected Peter. They all glared at him.
‘To the person, of course,’ said Amelia. ‘And then they killed Celia because she knew about it.’
‘It makes sense,’ said Libby, frowning. ‘Who did Matthew see over the few weeks before Celia died?’
The sisters looked at each other. ‘Only us.’
‘You didn’t know of anyone unusual who was in touch with him?’
‘No.’ Alicia shook her head. ‘But we wouldn’t know anything about who might have phoned him, or been in touch by email. We don’t have a computer.’
‘Did the police look at his?’ asked Peter.
‘His what?’ Honoria frowned.
‘His computer. Look at his emails.’
‘No, why would they?’ Alicia looked bewildered.
‘His wasn’t a suspicious death,’ said Libby, ‘so there was no reason to look at his computer.’
‘We could, though,’ said Ben.
They all looked at him. Peter turned to the sisters. ‘Yes, we could. Would you let us?’
‘Oh – I don’t know –’ began Alicia.
‘No,’ said Honoria.
‘Oh, yes!’ said Amelia. ‘And then I think we should start using it. We could start doing the shopping on it.’
‘You did ask us to look into Celia’s death,’ said Libby gently to Alicia. ‘This could be the only clue if it really was murder.’
Alicia looked at her sisters, then nodded slowly. ‘All right. Will you come up to look at it?’
‘This evening?’ suggested Peter. ‘After you’ve eaten, perhaps?’
‘That’s fine. Meet you at Matthew’s,’ said Alicia, standing up. ‘You know where it is, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Libby. ‘We’ll see you there. Half past eight?’
The sisters gathered themselves together and with a flurry of goodbyes set off up the path to the top of the cliff.
‘Well!’ said Libby. ‘What do you think of that?’
Chapter Three
‘It explains why they asked us to the funeral,’ said Ben.
Harry was once more standing at the edge of the deck staring out to sea. Libby looked at Peter and raised her eyebrows. He shook his head.
‘Have you been here before, Harry?’ Libby went and stood beside Harry, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. He didn’t look at her.
‘Yes. Years ago. Before I met Pete.’
‘Did something happen? Something – unpleasant?’
Then he did look at her. ‘No. Not in the way you mean.’
Libby, who didn’t know quite what she meant, nodded anyway. ‘Did you meet the sisters?’
‘No. I don’t know if they know he was gay even now.’
‘But you’ve been here?’ Libby frowned. ‘How did you avoid them? Or weren’t they here then?’
‘Oh, yes, they were here.’
Peter came and stood on the other side Harry and leant on the balustrade. ‘Hal, love, you’re not exactly telling us much, are you? What’s the problem? And why didn’t you tell us any of this before?’
Harry shook his head and looked down at the beach below, where a small clinker boat was drawn up next to some crabbing pots.
‘I stayed at the Beach House with Matthew. He’d collect me from the ferry at Fishbourne, then we’d drive somewhere – can’t remember what it’s called – where he had a little boat. Then we’d come round to the cove by sea.’
Ben had joined them at the rail. ‘And why was it so important you couldn’t tell us?’
‘I’d never told Pete.’ Harry looked up then, straight at Peter, who smiled.
‘Daft bugger,’ he said. ‘What you did before we met is nothing to do with me. And Matthew introduced us, so he did right by us, didn’t he?’
Harry nodded. Libby decided to change the course of the conversation. ‘In that case, you can tell us a bit more about the beach hut.’
‘House,’ corrected Harry. A wistful look came over his face. ‘It was lovely. It was only a painted wooden place, like that –’ he pointed to the little cafe a little further along the beach, ‘but it was perfect. All polished wooden walls and floor, and the windows looked out to sea, away from the cove. He had a huge telescope in there, too.’
‘Did he let it out?’ asked Ben.
‘No, I don’t think so.’ H
arry pushed himself upright. ‘I’ll take you to see where it was if you like.’
‘Now?’ Libby asked, startled.
‘Why not?’ said Peter. ‘It would be a good idea before we go up and start looking through Matthew’s computer.’
‘Right.’ Libby collected the used tea things and locked the big sliding doors from the deck, and they went down the small wooden steps to the beach. Turning left, they passed the little clinker boat, a boathouse, more crab pots and two more cottages, before clambering over rocks into what was effectively a separate little bay. In the middle, well away from the wooded cliff, stood what were obviously the ruins of the Beach House.
‘You can’t see it from the cove,’ murmured Peter, as they approached.
‘No.’ Harry’s eyes slid away from his partner’s.
‘How did he get here apart from by boat?’ asked Libby. ‘Did he have to come down the cliff path through the cove?’
Harry sighed. ‘Yes. That was why we used to come by boat.’
‘Can you see it from the top of the cliff?’ Libby looked up.
‘Not from the car park, but there’s a path through the woodland. You can see it from there. It’s part of the Coastal Path, but it isn’t used much because of the landslips.’
‘Landslips?’ said Ben.
‘All this coast is prone to them,’ said Libby. ‘Blackgang Chine loses a bit more every year, and sometimes even the main road has to be shut.’
‘So actually, the position of the Beach House was quite good,’ said Peter. ‘It isn’t near the cliff, so probably wouldn’t suffer if there was a fall. What was it originally?’
‘Matthew thought it was a fisherman’s hut. Or used for smuggling. As much smuggling here as there used to be at home.’
‘Could that be it?’ said Libby, memories of last winter’s discoveries about the smuggling fraternity in Kent springing to mind. ‘Modern-day smuggling? Nowhere overlooks this side of the Island.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Modern-day smuggling would mean drugs or people. You couldn’t get people out of here, and Matthew would never touch drugs.’ He turned away and walked down to where the wavelets bustled among the seaweed.
‘There’s something going on here,’ said Libby to Peter in a low voice. ‘Not just distress at Matthew’s death.’
LS 13 - Murder in a Different Place Page 2
