Murder in Midwinter - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘If you noticed,’ said Fran, buckling herself in to the slightly unsteady passenger seat, ‘he didn’t drink more than a glass of wine yesterday, so he drove home. He was spending the evening with his mother.’

  ‘I didn’t know he had a mother,’ said Libby, pulling out into the High Street with an alarming jerk.

  ‘She’s quite old,’ said Fran. ‘He and Sophie had lunch with her on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Is she in a home?’ asked Libby, thinking of The Laurels, where Fran’s aunt had died last summer.

  ‘No, she lives alone. Quite independent, apparently.’

  ‘Is he going to take you to meet her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Fran testily. ‘Just leave it, Libby.’

  Libby pulled a face and concentrated on driving.

  March Cottage was cold, and the room at the back even colder. Libby put on the heater while Fran turned on the computer.

  ‘Why are you doing that?’ asked Libby. ‘I thought we were only coming to put the stuff back?’

  ‘Just wanted to update the folders on the computer to clarify it for Bella, whenever she wants to look at it. Easier than going through all that stuff.’

  They carried all the folders and newspapers back inside and began to put them back in date order.

  ‘Hey! Look!’ said Libby suddenly, as she opened a folder to check the date it started.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why didn’t we see this before?’ Libby held out a letter written in a spidery, brownish ink on thin paper.

  Fran came over to look.

  ‘My God,’ she whispered, as she read it. ‘It’s from Ivy.’

  Libby was reading over her shoulder. ‘And if only we’d found it first.’

  Fran frowned up at her. ‘Why didn’t we?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ Libby shrugged. ‘We didn’t look in this folder.’

  ‘Why didn’t we?’

  ‘Because – oh, for goodness’ sake, I don’t remember! You tell me.’

  Fran returned to the folder. ‘Look. It’s out of order. There’s more leaflets here, and a cutting advertising piano lessons. They’re dated before this letter.’

  They looked at each other in silence.

  ‘Perhaps Bella’s been down,’ suggested Libby. ‘Without telling us. Perhaps she wanted to get away from Orrible Andrew.’

  ‘She told me she couldn’t get away until after Christmas,’ said Fran.

  ‘Well –’ Libby frowned in concentration, ‘perhaps he came down –’ She stopped as the thought struck them both at the same time.

  ‘Oh, God,’ said Fran, as the door opened.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  ‘OH, IT’S YOU,’ SAID Libby weakly.

  ‘Who did you think it would be?’ Bella came in and perched on the counter by the side of the computer.

  ‘No one,’ said Fran, ‘it’s just that we didn’t expect you.’ She peered into Bella’s face. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ said Bella, pulling off her gloves. ‘Did you both have a nice Christmas?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. Did you? Oh …’ Libby looked nervously at Fran.

  ‘Yes, well, as good as can be expected,’ said Bella, with a slight smile. ‘You know.’

  ‘Yes.’ Fran put the letter back into the folder. ‘I was going to ring you today. We brought all the stuff back. I don’t think there’s anything more we can tell you.’

  Bella sighed. ‘Oh, well, never mind. I thought about it all over Christmas and talked it over with Andrew.’

  Libby and Fran exchanged a furtive look.

  ‘I think he’s right, actually. I wouldn’t really know what to do with the Alexandria, so I’m going to ask Mr Grimshaw to go ahead with the sale of the site after all. I don’t feel the same really, after that man was found there.’

  ‘We found out who he was,’ said Libby gently.

  ‘I know. Laurence Cooper. You told me.’

  Fran glanced at Libby. ‘No, what Libby means – and I was going to break it to you more gently – is that Laurence was actually your cousin.’

  ‘My –’ Bella’s face was completely blank.

  ‘Shall I go and make some tea?’ asked Libby, scrambling to her feet. ‘It must be a shock.’

  ‘No, no.’ Bella seemed to pull herself together. ‘Please – tell me.’

  Fran embarked on the story of Laurence Cooper, his father Colin, and the receipt for fifty pounds. Libby filled in all the extra details, including Anderson Place, the diamond necklace and finally, Ivy.

  ‘And this is the letter we’ve just found,’ said Fran, holding it out.

  ‘Could you – could you read it?’ Bella was pale, and Libby hovered from one foot to the other wondering whether to make a dash for the kitchen and a glass of water, or simply position herself to catch her if she fell.

  ‘Here goes, then,’ said Fran, and adjusted her reading glasses.

  ‘“Dorinda dear, it was good of you to let us all know how you go on. You know dear, my old Sir Freddie is as good as his word and we are to be married next month. How we would like you to be with us, but I daresay you wouldn’t like it. May and Ellen still don’t like it much, either, but we’re all going off to the new place together, so that’s all right. Mrs S and Julia will come too, and the boys in the holidays of course, and Sir Freddie’s having it done up lovely and calling it Anderson Place. And I shall be Lady Ivy! Fancy that, dear.

  ‘“We was so sorry about the little boy. It must have hurt you terrible to have to give him away, although he was such a reminder of that terrible time, dear. Mrs S wishes she could have done more, I know, and won’t have Mr S’s name mentioned. Well, you can hardly blame her, can you. No blame at all to you, though, dear. And to tell everyone you took my necklace. He was no good, dear. No good at all.

  ‘“May says to tell you she knows Albert Cooper and his wife and they are good people. Your little boy won’t want for nothing.

  ‘“Keep in touch won’t you, dear, and let us know if we can help you and Peter in any way.

  ‘“With love from all here, your affectionate Lady Ivy!!!”’

  Fran looked up to see Bella swaying in her chair. Libby leapt forward and put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Shall I go and make that tea?’ asked Libby.

  ‘I’d rather have a drink,’ said Bella, in a strangled voice.

  ‘Let’s go into the cottage, then,’ said Fran. ‘Have you got anything to drink in there?’

  ‘Let’s go to the pub,’ said Bella. ‘I don’t want to be here.’

  Fran looked at Libby. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Come on, Lib, let’s lock up here.’

  Five minutes later they were walking up the road to the pub. George welcomed them delightedly from behind some dangling tinsel and flashing lights.

  ‘Going to move in then, are you?’ he asked Bella, as he put a double whisky in front of her.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

  ‘Oh.’ George looked disappointed. ‘Not even as a weekend cottage? We’d keep an eye on it for you?’

  ‘No.’ Libby could have sworn Bella looked frightened. Fran was staring at her intently.

  ‘What about tonight?’ Libby said. ‘Were you going to stay here tonight?’

  Bella swallowed some whisky. ‘Yes. Yes, I was. I – I suppose I still can.’

  ‘Shall I pop back and light the fire? Warm it up for you?’ said Libby.

  ‘No – I’ll be fine, thank you, Libby.’ Bella sat up straight on her bar stool. ‘It was a bit of a shock that’s all. To find out that there was a connection after all. That it was true.’

  ‘Well, that’s what we wanted to find out, wasn’t it?’ said Fran. ‘That’s why Inspector Connell asked me to help.’

  ‘Yes.’ Bella looked close to tears. ‘And now it’s all over.’

  ‘You’ve still got the cottage,’ said Libby. ‘I bet your kids would love to come down here during the holidays.’ Might take their minds off
their father, she thought.

  Bella just shook her head. ‘Thanks all the same,’ she said and finished her whisky. ‘I’d better get back there. I’ll switch on the storage heaters and light the fire. Then I’ll be warm enough.’ She slid down from her bar stool.

  ‘What did you come down for today?’ asked Fran.

  Bella looked startled. ‘I told you,’ she said. ‘I’m going to see Mr Grimshaw and sort out the sale.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have done that over the phone?’

  ‘Fran!’ said Libby in a scandalized undertone.

  ‘Yes, I could,’ said Bella wearily, ‘but I wanted to sort a few things out before people come tramping all over the cottage.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Fran. ‘Well, if you need any help, just call us.’

  ‘No, thanks, Fran. You’ve done enough.’ Bella lifted a vague hand. ‘Bye.’

  ‘I didn’t like the way she said that,’ said Libby. ‘You were only doing what she asked you to.’

  ‘She’s scared,’ said Fran, taking out her mobile.

  ‘Was she trying to get away from Andrew?’ said Libby. ‘Who are you calling?’

  ‘Ian.’ Fran punched in the number.

  ‘We should have gone with her,’ said Libby, sliding inelegantly off her bar stool.

  ‘I don’t think we could have done anything up against Andrew, do you?’ said Fran. ‘Oh, Ian, yes, I’m sorry to call you so late, but I think this is an emergency.’ She wandered off towards the door, still talking, while Libby fidgeted by the bar.

  ‘We should go after her.’

  ‘Ian was already on it,’ said Fran. ‘Andrew left home just after she did.’

  ‘They’ve been following him, then?’ Libby’s eyes were wide.

  ‘Yes. They knew we were there.’

  ‘They watched us?’ Libby sounded outraged.

  ‘Only because they were watching the cottage waiting for Andrew to arrive. Come on, Lib, you know how it works.’

  ‘Yes. So what happens now?’

  ‘We wait,’ said Fran.

  ‘Here?’

  ‘In case Bella needs us.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Ian sounded a bit put out.’

  ‘Wouldn’t they move us on?’ said Libby. ‘If they’re expecting trouble, I mean.’

  ‘They might. I think Ian wanted us to go home.’

  ‘I think that’s very sensible,’ said Libby, making for the door. ‘Bella’s got the police. She doesn’t need us.’

  ‘I think she does,’ said a new voice.

  Libby stopped short as Ian Connell appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Can we go to her?’ asked Fran.

  ‘I’ll take you,’ said Connell.

  They found Bella sitting in the front room of March Cottage wrapped in a blanket and accompanied by a female police officer. Libby looked over her shoulder nervously, as if expecting Andrew to appear wielding a blunt instrument.

  ‘What happened?’ Fran asked Connell.

  Bella looked up and held out a hand. ‘Please – let me talk to Fran.’ Her voice sounded rusty.

  Connell nodded and indicated that the police officer should step out of the way. Libby and Fran took chairs either side of Bella and Fran took her hand. Libby noticed from the corner of her eye the police officer taking a notebook out of her pocket.

  ‘Did Andrew come?’ Fran asked in a gentle voice.

  Bella nodded.

  ‘I said we should have gone after her,’ muttered Libby. Fran shook her head.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Fran.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Libby looked at Fran.

  ‘So am I,’ said Fran. ‘I didn’t see Andrew until it was too late.’

  Bella sighed. ‘It was all my fault.’

  ‘No it wasn’t,’ said Libby. ‘Andrew –’

  ‘Shut up, Libby,’ said Fran.

  Bella shook her head. ‘Andrew only wanted to help,’ she said.

  ‘Help?’

  ‘I’ve never been any good at doing things on my own, and I ended up telling him everything. He’s always annoyed me, taking things over, never letting me do what I want, but in the end I told him.’

  ‘About the cottage and the Alexandria,’ nodded Libby. ‘We know.’

  ‘No,’ said Bella, leaning forward. ‘About Laurence Cooper. I killed him.’

  Chapter Thirty-four

  ‘SO THAT’S WHY SHE wanted you to find out about the family?’ said Ben later. At Libby’s request, he had driven over to pick up the two shell-shocked women from March Cottage and bring them back to number 17. Guy, Peter and Harry had all arrived carrying various aids to recovery such as champagne and whisky. Libby opted for whisky, saying this was hardly an occasion for celebration.

  ‘Yes,’ said Fran. ‘Apparently, Laurence rang her the day after her first visit to March Cottage and said he was Dorinda’s grandson and should have inherited half the estate. Bella said she didn’t believe him, there was no mention of him in her aunt’s letter, but he said he had proof.’

  ‘And did he?’ asked Peter.

  ‘If he did, Bella didn’t see it. She agreed to go down and meet him at the Alexandria, where he said he would show her the proof.’

  ‘And she hit him over the head? Just like that?’ Guy looked incredulous.

  ‘According to Bella, who wanted to tell us everything because, she said, she felt so guilty about using us, he wanted to go and see the solicitor with her and got very aggressive. It was self-defence. She picked up something heavy – she wasn’t sure what and hit him with it.’

  ‘What did she do with the weapon?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Dropped it in one of the flowerbeds on the promenade. She was wearing gloves. I think the police found it – I can’t remember.’

  ‘So why bring you into it? And what about Dorothy? That was premeditated.’ Ben topped up their glasses.

  ‘She went home and confessed all to Andrew. It was he who went to Laurence’s flat. Connell was furious with the London policeman who went to interview Bella and Andrew, although how he could have put two and two together I don’t know.’ Libby shivered.

  ‘And it was Andrew who went up to Richmond,’ said Fran. ‘Meanwhile, he said Bella ought to take up Connell’s suggestion about me looking into her family in case there was some proof about Laurence being Maria’s brother. He said it would point to her.’

  ‘Well, it would have done,’ said Libby, ‘except we never actually found concrete proof of it. But there was enough for us to realise Andrew was the only one who could have broken into Eric’s flat, because he and Bella were the only ones connected to the case who knew about the photofit.’

  ‘I can’t believe that little mouse Bella was a killer,’ said Ben, shaking his head.

  ‘It really was accidental,’ said Fran, ‘but after she’d told Andrew he terrified her into doing whatever he said, and once he’d deliberately killed Dorothy, she was scared that he would turn on her, too.’

  ‘Those poor children,’ said Libby. ‘What will happen to them?’

  ‘Children?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Amanda and Anthony, GCSEs and A levels respectively. I can’t bear to think of them.’

  ‘Well, don’t start. Or you’ll be inviting them down here to keep an eye on them,’ said Ben.

  ‘Why did Andrew follow Bella down here?’ asked Peter.

  ‘She ran away from him, although why the silly bugger didn’t realise he would follow her I can’t think,’ said Libby.

  ‘I think she was going to go to the police,’ said Fran. ‘But the police got to her, just in time. Andrew was hammering on the door when they arrived. He went mad, apparently.’

  ‘We didn’t see that bit,’ said Libby, ‘we were in the pub.’

  ‘It was nice of Ian to let her see us, wasn’t it?’ said Fran. ‘He could have just hauled her off to the station.’

  Guy gave her a sideways look.

  ‘So that’s that, then, is it?’ said Harry. ‘I
can tell Danny all about it?’

  ‘Yes, and Connell says we can tell old Jonathan. Poor old Laurence. His father must have brought him up to think he had a stake in Anderson Place and the Alexandria,’ said Libby.

  ‘So why didn’t he make a move earlier?’ asked Peter.

  ‘Apparently he waited until Maria died because his father had tried it on with her and with Jonathan’s mother and got nowhere. I suppose he thought Bella would be a softer touch.’ Fran sighed. ‘What a mess.’

  ‘Well, it’s over now,’ said Guy. ‘All you’ve got to worry about is moving in to your lovely cottage.’

  ‘And the panto,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Guy, pulling a face, ‘the panto.’

  ‘Just what we need,’ said Ben. ‘Cheer us all up.’

  ‘I wasn’t un-cheerful,’ said Harry, flinging an arm round Peter. ‘I’ve just got married.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Libby. ‘So let’s drink to that.’

  They all lifted their glasses. ‘Peter and Harry,’ they chorused.

  ‘And Jack And The Beanstalk,’ said Libby.

  ‘And Coastguard Cottage,’ said Guy.

  Fran smiled. ‘And no more murders.’

  First Chapter of Murder by the Sea

  THEY DID BOAT TRIPS around the bay. George took the Dolphin chugging round the uninhabited island in the centre every other day and Bert took the Sparkler to the little cove round the point. The next day they changed over. Tourists asked them if they didn’t get bored doing the same thing all summer from Easter to September, but they just shrugged and smiled. The sea was always different, they said, the people were always different and the weather – well, the weather could be even more different. Sometimes they couldn’t go out for a week; one year they hadn’t gone out for the whole of August. Then they would sit in the Blue Anchor by the jetty, drinking tea and smoking, until the government forced them outside, where Mavis supplied them with a cheap canvas gazebo and an environmentally unfriendly heater.

  But this year the weather was good. This year the regulars came back with smiles on their faces and the odd present of a bottle of whisky, which George and Bert would share on board the Dolphin or the Sparkler when the tourists went back to their hotels and apartments.