‘And they were scared,’ said Libby, and went on to describe the moment she and Alicia had locked eyes at the memorial service. ‘Oh, and they aren’t DeLaxleys any more. They all married.’
‘What are their surnames?’ asked Ian, pen poised.
‘I don’t know.’ Libby looked at Harry. ‘Do you?’
‘No.’ He looked surprised. ‘When they forwarded the first letter, it was signed “Alicia, Amelia, and Honoria, Matthew’s cousins”. Nothing else.’
‘They were DeLaxleys by birth, though?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Harry.
‘I’ll look up the report of the other sister’s death,’ said Ian. ‘It’ll be a starting point. And Matthew’s obituary in the local paper.’ He looked round at them all and poured more coffee. ‘It has occurred to you that the reason they wanted to find out who killed Celia – if she was killed – is probably because of whatever they’re scared of.’
‘Because it might have got out, you mean?’ said Ben.
‘Yes, it had,’ said Libby. ‘And I think all the people we’ve come into contact with know about whatever it was – or is. The Clippings, and Lady Bligh – although we’ve never met her – and the Dougans. We’ve never met them, either.’
‘They were at Matthew’s funeral,’ said Peter, ‘even if we didn’t meet them. Don’t forget we’re sure it was someone there who then knew who Harry was and left the note at Ship House.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ said Guy, ‘why Harry is such a threat.’
‘Because obviously someone thinks he knows more than he does,’ said Ben.
‘Except that I don’t know anything at all,’ said Harry, thumping the table with a large fist.
‘You know the names of your parents,’ said Ian, ‘and you know that your father was adopted, being the result of a rape.’
‘Can you follow that up?’ asked Libby hopefully. ‘You must have better resources than we have.’
‘Only if I’m investigating an actual crime,’ said Ian. ‘I don’t know yet whether I am.’
‘What about the Malicious Communications Act?’ asked Peter. ‘That covers indecent, offensive, and threatening letters, doesn’t it?’
‘It does. What I meant was, I don’t know if I shall be allowed to act. I shall ask the top brass and see what happens. Meanwhile –’ he took an evidence bag from his pocket and carefully slid the letter and envelope inside using tweezers. ‘We’ll get these finger-printed, but I doubt there’ll be any. And the envelope, as you saw, was a self-sealer.’
‘It’s quite mad,’ said Harry. ‘There I was, leading a perfectly happy and normal life, and suddenly I’m in the centre of some bad third-rate melodrama.’
Ian looked amused. ‘You should be used to that. You’ve known Libby long enough.’
The mood was broken and everyone laughed, including Libby.
‘Tell me how you enjoyed the Isle of Wight apart from the melodrama,’ said Ian, leaning back in his chair with his mug of coffee. ‘I used to go there regularly.’
‘Did you?’ Libby leant forward eagerly. None of them knew anything about Ian’s past, except that he obviously had Scottish ancestry, even Fran, whom he had briefly dated.
‘With my parents,’ he elaborated, giving her a look that said he knew what she was up to.
They described their impressions of the Island and Harry finished up by surprising everyone and saying, ‘Well, if probate comes through and I really do own Ship House, you can go over and stay there, Ian.’
Ian looked as surprised as everyone else felt. ‘I’d love that, thank you, Harry.’
Libby opened her mouth and was silenced by Ben’s well-aimed foot.
‘There’s no doubt that you own it, surely?’ said Guy.
‘No, but Mr Deakin has to wait for probate. It’s only a few weeks since Matthew died.’
‘And you don’t think the bequest is a cause for someone to send anonymous letters?’ asked Ian.
‘Well, we did sort of wonder …’ said Libby.
‘But who would?’ asked Ben.
‘His cousins are the obvious people,’ said Ian. ‘They might resent the fact that Harry’s walked in and taken over what they’ve always thought of as theirs.’
‘Hang on,’ Libby tapped the table with a spoon. ‘Ian’s just made the same mistake as the writer of that first letter did. He said the Misses DeLaxley.’
They all looked at her, and Harry tipped his chair forward with a bang.
‘Of course! They were cousins on his mother’s side – they weren’t DeLaxleys at all!’
‘So, no claim on the estate, then?’ said Ian.
‘There was something about them all growing up at Overcliffe Castle,’ said Fran.
‘Probably staying in the holidays, something like that,’ said Guy.
Ian sighed. ‘It’s complex, isn’t it? But when wasn’t it, when you lot are mixed up in something?’
There was a chorus of indignation, but Libby and Fran both saw the twinkle in Ian’s dark eyes. He stood up.
‘Now I’m going to go home and get some sleep before I tackle the powers that be about investigating any further. Harry, I’ll be in touch.’ He laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder and was gone.
‘He’ll do his best, Hal,’ Fran said into the silence that followed his departure. ‘He always does.’
Harry nodded, and Libby saw Peter grip his hand under the table.
‘He didn’t say anything about who might have put that letter through the letter box,’ said Guy.
‘No, but he’s having it finger-printed,’ said Peter.
‘That won’t help if the writer’s not a criminal,’ said Libby. ‘No fingerprints or DNA on record.’
‘So whoever it is could still be in Steeple Martin – even know we’ve been visited by the police tonight?’ said Harry, eyes widening. ‘Reprisals, here we come!’
‘That would be a bit too obvious, wouldn’t it?’ said Fran.
‘I won’t go an inch from his side,’ said Peter. ‘I shall be a human – er – bodyguard.’
‘But, seriously,’ said Libby later, as she and Ben walked home, ‘the only way whoever this is could stop Harry inheriting or finding out about this secret, is to … to …’
‘To harm him.’ Ben gave her arm a squeeze. ‘I know. Don’t think about it. Peter’s right there with him, and, if I know Pete, he’ll be a human limpet until this is sorted out.’
To Libby’s annoyance, Ian didn’t get in touch with Harry over the next few days, and, luckily, neither did anyone else. The weather was getting warmer, and the school holidays were getting nearer. Libby took the chance to spend as much time on the beach at Nethergate as she could before it became overrun with holiday-makers, spending far too much on Lizzie’s ice creams and Mavis’s lunches. Occasionally she took her materials with her and did a little desultory painting, sometimes borrowing the top room at Peel House, Jane and Terry Baker’s home, with its commanding view of the bay. She tried a few new positions, the most ambitious of which was on Dragon Island itself, when George took her out on the Dolphin and Bert picked her up an hour later on the Sparkler. This gave her a new view of Nethergate Bay, which, although she’d seen it from the boats before, appeared quite different when stationary.
It was on the Monday following Ian’s visit that Harry called.
‘I’ve just heard from Alicia,’ he said.
‘Did she ring you?’
‘No, it’s a letter. Want to see?’
‘Yes. Shall I come round?’
‘No, I’ll come to you. It’s Monday – I’m closed.’
‘Where’s Peter?’
Harry chuckled. ‘I’ll unzip him before I come round. He’s been stuck like a fly to flypaper since last week.’
Libby put on proper coffee, and went to unearth biscuits. Luckily, Nella from the garden centre made wonderful home-made ginger biscuits, to which Ben was addicted, so there were always plenty of those.
Harry arrived and the
y took their coffee into the garden to sit under the cherry tree. Harry took a letter from his pocket and handed it over.
‘Wouldn’t you rather tell me what it says,’ said Libby, before opening it.
‘Much easier if you read it yourself.’ Harry helped himself to a biscuit.
“Dear Harry,” the letter began. “We, my sisters and I, have heard from Mr Deakin, the solicitor, that you are now sole owner of Ship House and the Beach House. As we have been keeping the keys here, shall we send them to you? I’m afraid we have let Ship House for a couple of weeks in August, but we will send the rental money on to you, if you tell us where.
“We saw you at Matthew’s memorial, and I would like you to apologise to dear Libby. I am so very sorry we caused you all so much trouble when you came to the Island. I can only say we were not thinking very clearly, and were deeply upset by both Celia’s and Matthew’s deaths. We understand now, of course, that without knowing the background of any event, it is not possible to find out the truth.
“I hope, that now you are the owner of Ship House, we see you on the Island again at some time in the future.
“Very best wishes
“Alicia Hope-Fenwick.”
Libby looked up. ‘Well, that tells you precisely nothing.’
‘Except her surname,’ said Harry. ‘I called Ian this morning and told him that. Well, left a message, anyway.’
‘Apologise to me?’ Libby ruminated over the letter. ‘What for? Lying? Looking horrified when she saw me at the memorial?’
‘That, yes. And just a blanket apology, I think. For messing you about.’
‘Well, you did a bit of that, too, remember,’ said Libby.
‘All right, all right. I’ve already said I’m sorry.’
Libby shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter now. So what do you think Alicia wants you to do? It doesn’t sound as though they’re bothered about you getting Ship House, or the Beach House.’
‘No, but they’ve got the keys.’ Harry looked up. ‘Do you think they’ll go and strip everything before I get there?’
‘Not if they’ve let it for August.’
‘No, but the Beach House. They know we found the address book there. They might think there’s something else there to find.’
‘They could have done that at any time.’
‘Well, they hadn’t when we got there, had they?’
‘It hadn’t occurred to them,’ said Libby.
‘But it has now,’ said Harry. ‘I think I’d better get out there, fast.’
Chapter Twenty-two
Libby’s mouth dropped open.
‘But you said …’
‘I know what I said before,’ said Harry impatiently. ‘I now own property on the Island. I’ve got a responsibility. And I don’t want those women confusing the issue.’
‘Confusing …? How do you mean?’
‘What I said. They’ll go through both properties now like they never have before. They were content to leave you to do it, because they thought you could find something better than they could and they needn’t tell you anything they didn’t want to. They didn’t realise what a serpents’ nest they’d stir up, and now they want to protect whatever it is.’
‘Yes,’ said Libby doubtfully, ‘but Alicia appears to be quite honest and up-front in this letter.’
‘To lull me,’ said Harry triumphantly. ‘That’s what that is.’ He sat forward and peered at Libby. ‘Are you coming with me?’
Libby stared nervously at this new fierce Harry. She’d seen him up in arms over the plight of friends in the past, but this was a new side of him.
‘I don’t know how either of us could,’ she said. ‘You can’t very well close the caff again, not so close to the summer holidays, and I don’t like to leave Ben –’
‘Oh, come on, Lib! He coped on his own before he moved in with you. And I can leave the caff in the staff’s hands for once. Donna will come in and crack the whip if necessary.’
‘Donna? What about the baby?’
‘She can sort that out.’ Harry was impatient again. ‘Don’t make difficulties. If you won’t come with me, you can run the bloody caff.’
Libby looked horrified. ‘If that’s a choice – it’s Hobson’s,’ she said. ‘And what about Pete?’
‘He worries too much. We work well together.’
‘We do?’
‘Course we do.’ Harry grinned at her. ‘My favourite old trout.’
‘We – ell,’ said Libby, ‘you ask Pete and I’ll ask Ben. We owe them both consideration, at least.’
Harry fished his mobile from his pocket. ‘Ring them now.’
But Libby was adamant. ‘No. I shall talk to Ben in person. And I think you should do the same.’
‘Oh, all right.’ Harry stood up. ‘When will you talk to Ben?’
Libby sighed. ‘I’ll pop up to the Manor and see him now.’
‘Good.’ Harry kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll let you know what’s been arranged.’
Libby watched him go back down Allhallow’s Lane, then turned up it with another sigh, to make her way across the fields to the Manor.
‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ said Ben, after she’d sat in the estate office and told him about the letter and Harry’s determination to drop everything and go back to the Island. ‘And I don’t blame him. Do you want to go?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t really, but I don’t think I can let him down. I wish he’d take Peter.’
At the moment the phone on Ben’s desk rang.
‘Yes, Pete. Yes, Libby’s here, she just told me. What do you think?’
Ben listened, his eyes on Libby. When they widened, she opened her mouth, but he shook his head.
‘Why doesn’t he want you to go?’ he said. ‘Nannying? Good God. And Libby wouldn’t?’
He listened again, then turned from the handset. ‘Pete suggests we all go again. What do you think?’
‘Overkill?’ said Libby doubtfully. ‘What about the caff? And will your mum take Sidney again?’
‘Did you hear that, Pete? Yes, OK. We’ll wait to hear from you.’
Ben switched off the phone. ‘Let’s go and talk to Hetty. Pete’s threatening Harry with all sorts of recriminations if he goes without him. I do hope it doesn’t upset their relationship permanently.’
Libby trailed behind Ben as he made for the kitchen, wondering exactly the same thing.
Hetty was only too pleased to have Sidney again, and Libby was sure Sidney, too, would be pleased. Peter called while they were still drinking coffee in the Manor kitchen, saying that Harry had been persuaded to let them all go with him, and had called Ronald Deakin, who told him there was no problem with Harry staying at Ship House and asked if he should warn the sisters of his impending arrival. Harry had given a firm no to this, fudging the issue slightly by saying he would be in touch himself. Which he would. In person.
‘There are ferry crossings every half an hour up until about ten o’clock, so which should we aim for?’ Ben asked.
Peter obviously answered, so Ben ended the call and told Hetty and Libby they were aiming for the five thirty or six o’clock ferry from Portsmouth. Libby sighed and stood up. ‘Better get packing, then.’
By two thirty they were on the road, once more in Ben’s car.
‘What’s the plan, then, Hal?’ asked Ben, filtering into the A2 traffic.
‘I though we could pick up a take-away on the way,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t want to go out again after we’ve arrived.’
‘They aren’t likely to creep down after dark, surely,’ said Libby. ‘They’re old ladies.’
‘We can eat on the ferry,’ said Peter.
‘Only sandwiches,’ said Libby.
‘Let’s pre-order an Indian to pick up as we drive through Ventnor,’ said Ben.
‘How do we do that? We haven’t got any menus or anything,’ said Libby.
The three men groaned.
‘What?’ Libby turned round to look at Pet
er and Harry in the back. Harry was grinning at her, while Peter tapped away at his phone.
‘Oh,’ said Libby. ‘Is there an app for it?’
Curry duly ordered, they spent the rest of the drive to Portsmouth assiduously avoiding the reason for their journey, but speculating on what they could all do on the Island with the free run of Ship House.
‘I shan’t let it out,’ said Harry. ‘I shall keep it just for us. And if any other friends want to use it.’
Libby and Ben exchanged smiles.
‘Don’t let Fran’s girls know. They’ll be demanding free holidays all year round,’ said Libby. Fran’s daughters, Lucy and Chrissie, both felt they had a claim on Fran’s life, and, since she had inherited money, that, too. Her son Jeremy lived in America and was no problem at all, but Fran fought a constant battle with guilt over her girls, whom she claimed to have neglected during their formative years while pursuing her career as an actor. Libby understood this, having done the same, but she had given up on the stage a long time before Fran did. Now she helped manage a delightful small theatre and was able to pick and choose parts she’d never have played in the professional world.
‘Do you think Hetty would like it?’ asked Peter.
‘Ship House or the Island?’ said Ben. ‘I’m not sure. She’s hardly been away from Steeple Martin since she first married Greg. London a few times in the early years, because she still had family there.’
Ben’s mother had first gone to Steeple Martin as a hop-picker with her mother, Lillian, and younger sister Millie, Peter’s mother. Flo Carpenter had also been a regular, and eventually after the war all of them had moved there permanently.
‘We can ask her, but I think she’d rather stay at home,’ said Libby. ‘I, on the other hand, would have loved to have the run of the place.’
‘Would have?’ said Harry.
‘Well, you said yourself …’
‘So did I,’ said Peter, ‘but once this is all cleared up, and it will be, everything will be fine.’
A phone call when they arrived at Fishbourne ensured that their curry was ready to be picked up in Ventnor, before driving the short distance to Overcliffe, which was accomplished in silence.
LS 13 - Murder in a Different Place Page 15
