Murder at the Bridge: An Exham on Sea Cosy Murder Mystery (Exham on Sea Mysteries Book 5)

by Frances Evesham

  She stole a glance at Max's face. A small smile crinkled his eyes. At once, the tension in Libby's muscles seeped away. There was no need to panic while Max was there, sensible and down to earth.

  Some of the other attendees leaned forwards, hands on their knees, faces alert, as if expecting something exciting to happen, but others seemed drowsy, as though in a daze. The man in a business suit had his chin tucked into his chest, and Libby could almost believe he was dozing. Maybe he'd had a liquid lunch.

  The urge to giggle took her by surprise. It must be a nervous reaction. Desperate not to draw attention, she sucked in both cheeks and held her breath. She felt rather than saw Max look her way, but dare not meet his eye for fear of bursting into wild laughter.

  Xavier Papadopoulos clapped his hands, shocking Libby back to reality. Under cover of the noise, she coughed and regained control. The two women who'd been leaning forward, apparently entranced, rose and stood one on either side of Olivia. One wore a red kaftan, the other an everyday black jumper and trousers.

  In the flickering candlelight, Olivia's face glowed. She closed her eyes and intoned in a deep voice, "I feel someone near." She reached out to the two women, taking their hands. "One of your departed loved ones wishes to contact you." She paused. The women's eyes never left her face as she raised their hands high above her head. "His name," she intoned, "begins with F." She paused, but no one spoke. "Or S."

  The woman in black shook her head, but the red kaftan cried out, "My father's name was Stephen."

  Olivia Papadopoulos dropped the other woman's hand. "My dear, your father says you're not to worry. He's happy and reunited with his long-time love, who crossed over before him."

  The woman was nodding. "My stepmother died a year ago."

  "That's right."

  "Can you a-ask him about my real mother. She died when I was a child, before Father remarried."

  Olivia gave a deep sigh. "Wait, he's talking. He says your mother is there and all is well."

  "But which one is he with?" The woman was trembling, agitated. "Which one is his true love? He can't be with both."

  Max whispered, "Good question."

  Xavier Papadopoulos stepped forward. "My dear, things are different in the Other Dimension." His voice awarded the two words audible capital letters. "On earth, we are bound by convention. Yet even here, people live happily with more than one partner. Your father is in a state of perpetual joy, his soul entwined with everyone he's ever loved."

  The woman's smile illuminated her face. Libby wanted to jump up and shout at the man. How could these people be so gullible?

  Perhaps she'd made a sudden movement. Papadopoulos was suddenly watching, his face expressionless. He held Libby's gaze for a long moment. Defiant, she returned the stare as he dropped a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Do you have messages for others in the room?"

  Olivia was silent for a long time, breathing heavily. At last, "Ah," she moaned in a quiet, sing-song voice. "I hear another. A husband who needs to connect. He wants to make amends." She rose from her seat and paced round the room. Every head turned to follow her progress. "He needs to contact his wife. He's been searching, longing to let her know how he feels. Is there anyone here whose name begins with B or E?"

  The audience looked at each other, but no one spoke. Olivia returned to her seat. She swayed, gently. "He tells me his wife uses a shortened name. Wait. It grows clearer. The full name is…" she paused. The room lay silent, her watchers holding their breath, waiting. "The name is Elizabeth."

  The words hit Libby like a punch in the stomach. She stifled a gasp. The businessman further along the horseshoe jerked awake at the sound, turning to stare. Libby's chest felt squeezed tight, as though encased in steel.

  Olivia intoned, "He tells me he was a bad husband. He did wrong. He wants to tell Elizabeth he's sorry and he is watching over her."

  Libby could hardly breathe for the pain in her chest. She swallowed, tasting bile. The room closed in around her, and she could stand it no longer. One hand pressed to her mouth, she scrambled past Max and ran from the room, clattering down the stairs and out through the front door into the blessed fresh air.

  ***

  Libby wheezed, dragging air into her lungs, her head fuzzy, while the ground seemed to sway under her feet. Someone was at her elbow. She recognised Mandy's voice. "Mrs F. Whatever's the matter?" Sturdy in a pair of heavy boots, hands on hips, face creased in a worried frown, Mandy demanded, "What are you doing here?"

  It took all Libby's self-control to resist throwing both arms around her young friend. She tried a smile. "N-nothing. It's nothing to worry about." The wobbly voice sounded ridiculous, as though it belonged to someone else. Libby cleared her throat, aware she'd made an exhibition of herself. "I had a shock, that's all."

  She'd let that woman's nonsense upset her, but it was all a sham. Olivia Papadopoulos had been playing a mean trick. Well, if she'd wanted to frighten Libby away from investigating the Pathway to Health, she was going to be disappointed. Nevertheless, the shock of a message supposed to be from her dead husband, sickened Libby. How did the woman know so much about her? It couldn't just be luck.

  She thought back over the séance. Olivia's spiel was well practised. Her husband's hand on her shoulder had been a signal. They'd probably used the trick with dozens of other vulnerable people. Most likely, everyone in the room was hoping for a message from a lost relative or friend. Why else would they put up with the Papadopoulos pair's mumbo-jumbo?

  Libby had fallen for a cheap fairground trick. Furious, she waved an angry finger at Mandy. "You're not going near those con artists and their phony séance."

  Mandy giggled. "Good to see you're back to normal. Had me worried for a moment, there."

  "Sorry." As Libby spoke, Max appeared, his face creased with concern. He drew her close but she caught sight of Kate close behind, stiffened and pulled away. "I'm fine. It was hot in there and I can't stand the smell of incense. That's all."

  Kate looked at Libby with soulful brown eyes. "It's the emotion in the room. It can be overwhelming at first, but so many people find it helpful on their journey."

  Libby ignored her.

  Max sounded anxious. "Well, if you're OK." He peered into Libby's face, but she was too angry to read whatever message he was trying to communicate. He gave the ghost of a shrug and turned away. "Mandy, fancy meeting you here."

  "I said I'd pick Kate up after the Pathway meeting. We're having another session today and it's an excuse to drive out here in my swanky new car."

  Max and Kate admired Mandy's new wheels, while Libby fought to control her feelings. Max was on the warmest of terms with Kate. He didn't seem to notice anything strange about the woman, but it was obvious she was close to the Papadopoulos couple and their Pathway cult. Was he blind?

  An unpleasant thought struck Libby. She'd wondered how Olivia Papadopoulos had known about her late husband. Perhaps Max had talked about him with Kate.

  Surely Max would never betray Libby like that. Or would he? She bit her lip. Perhaps she didn't know him as well as she'd imagined. When they'd first met, he'd warned her he was difficult to know. Maybe she'd taken his feelings for granted…

  Mandy and Kate were about to get into the car. Libby would think about Max later. For now, she wanted to extricate Mandy from the alternative therapist's tentacles and that wasn't going to be easy. "Mandy," she began. "Don't forget we planned to work on those new flavours today."

  Mandy waved a hand. "Don't give it a thought, Mrs F. I'll be there in plenty of time. And I'll tell you about Kate's wonder treatment for my phobia while we work."

  Kate, one foot already in the passenger side of Mandy's car, turned to wave. Her bag slid from her shoulder and fell to the floor at Libby's feet, contents spilling onto the grass verge. With a muttered exclamation, Kate bent to scoop the pile of belongings back into the bag. She grabbed a blue coin-purse, a couple of pens, a tube of extra-strong mints, and several crumpled pieces of paper, pr
obably receipts for petrol or meals. But it was another object, twinkling in the June sun, that caught Libby's attention. A key, just like the one near Liam's body.

  A second later, the key had disappeared back into Kate's bag, leaving Libby wondering if she was mistaken. It could have been an everyday front-door key.

  Max waved the two women off and ushered Libby into the Land Rover. "I can see you've got something to say."

  Libby shook her head in silence. Her eyes filled with tears and she dashed the back of her hand across her face, wishing she kept a clean tissue in her handbag like sensible people did. Her head was full of questions, but for the first time since they'd met, she wondered if she could trust Max. Her feelings were a mess. She wouldn't mention Kate. Better to stick to the Papadopoulos couple.

  She took a long breath. "Those two are the biggest pair of frauds I've seen for a long time." It was a relief to let her anger have an outlet. "Do you think they're charging those people for coming to their Pathway?"

  "I saw a collection plate on my way out. I presume it's there for contributions, but I didn't stop to give them anything, and neither did Kate. I'm sorry it took a while for me to follow you outside. I wanted to catch the end of that little interlude."

  Intrigued despite her anger, Libby asked, "What happened after I left?"

  "You mean, after that very dramatic storming out?"

  Libby was not yet ready to be persuaded to smile. "They frightened me. I know it was stupid, but that monotonous, ticking clock was like water dripping on my head. I couldn't stay for another moment."

  "You haven't got over the whole Trevor thing yet, have you?"

  Libby tried a little laugh. "I thought I had. I'd almost forgiven Trevor for the way he treated me like a doormat, but when that woman told everyone in the room what a fool I'd been, I was ashamed."

  Max took her hand and, without lifting his eyes from the road, touched it to his lips. Despite the turmoil in her head, she didn't bother to pull away. Max sounded angrier than she'd ever heard him. "Trevor, far from floating happily in whatever other dimension the Papadopoulos couple describe, deserves to suffer for what he did."

  Libby took a moment. "No, I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even Trevor. I don't know what happens after death, but maybe there's a reckoning. Who knows? Anyway, my husband's gone and I'm not going to let him back into my life."

  "Good for you." Max let go of her hand to change gear. They drove for a while in something that passed for companionable silence.

  "By the way," Max sounded business-like. "I took a call from Joe as I was leaving the séance. He wants to talk to us and it sounds important."

  ***

  Constable Evans met Max and Libby at the police station. She knew him well. A big, florid man, overweight and sadly lacking in social graces, he'd probably remain a constable his entire career. He shook Max's hand, and grunted at Libby. She sighed. Max always seemed to be accepted as one of the boys, while most of the police seemed determined to resent her.

  The interview room, where they were to meet Joe, was a plain cube. It held a coffee table, with a small two-seater settee arranged next to it, opposite a couple of armchairs. Two hard wooden chairs leaned against the walls and a camera was fixed high on the wall. Joe nodded towards the lens. "We won't need to record our interview. You're not a suspect, this time." Libby opened her mouth, saw the twinkle in Joe's eye and let her jaw snap shut as she realised he was teasing.

  A police constable arrived with three coffee cups, all with the battered look of office mugs more used to a quick rinse under the tap than a thorough cycle in the dishwasher. Libby struggled with a small carton of long-life milk. As ever, a few drops scattered across her shirt. She'd never learned the knack of opening those things. She took a careful sip from the mug, tried not to wince, and placed it back on the table.

  "Sorry about the coffee." Joe grinned. "Not up to your standards, I'm afraid, but I wanted to show you this as soon as possible." From a cardboard carton, he drew out a couple of plastic zip-lock bags and placed them on the table. "This is evidence, so I can't take it out of the bag, but I wondered what you made of it."

  Max said, "That's the key you found near Liam's body, I suppose?"

  Joe nodded. "It is, but what I really wanted to show you was this." He pointed to the other bag. "We found a box in Liam's bedsit that the key fitted. These were inside."

  Libby and Max leaned forward to look at the slips of paper inside the bag. There were half a dozen lines of printed letters and numbers on the paper. Libby squinted. "Those aren't real words."

  "Afraid not. I wondered if they meant anything to you."

  Libby shrugged.

  Joe said, "Do you remember that business of the body at the lighthouse?"

  She smiled. "Of course I do. It was the first time we'd met and you thought I was an interfering old woman."

  Joe side-stepped that. "You solved that crime by working out a code."

  Libby guessed what was coming. "That was a bit of a fluke, to be honest. It's not as though I'm a crossword puzzler."

  Max was frowning at the letters. "These look like passwords, to me."

  Joe said, "That's what we thought. Funny thing is, Liam doesn't seem to have a computer. Just his phone. We tried to find something the passwords fitted, but so far, we've hit a wall. Maybe they're not passwords at all, but some kind of code. Any chance of you helping crack it?"

  Max pointed at the cardboard box. "Is there anything else to point us in the right direction?"

  Joe pulled out one more bag. "Just these candles. As you can see, they're already half burned."

  Libby leaned forward until her nose was almost on the plastic bag. "I can smell something, but it's faint, through the plastic. Max, can you smell it? Is it incense?"

  Joe nodded. "That's what we thought. Now, why would a young chap like Liam burn incense candles? We wondered if he used them with girlfriends. You know, to set the tone for a romantic evening, but if that's the case, why hide them away?"

  Max told him about the Papadopoulos couple, the séance they'd attended, and the smell of incense in the room. Joe beamed. "Great stuff. Could be a link between this Pathway affair and Liam. Can I get you another cup of coffee to celebrate?"

  "Not likely," Libby answered without thinking. "Are there any fingerprints or anything-er-forensic?"

  "Well, apart from Liam's fingerprints and bits of fibres that match bedding and so on from his bedsit, there's half a thumbprint on one of the candles that we haven't been able to match. With a bit of luck we'll find it belongs to one of your Papadopoulos friends."

  Lunch

  Glad to be back at the bakery next day, far away from séances, missing women, and dead farmhands, Libby slid a small loaf into a strong paper bag, for the flower shop lady. "Anything else I can get for you? Your usual cream meringues?"

  The woman shook her head. "Can't stop. Too much to do." She hurried to the door, almost colliding with Max, and scampered down the street, heading to the right, away from her own shop.

  Max grinned and spoke to Libby, "Can I whisk you away for lunch, later?"

  They'd hardly spoken since returning from the police station. Libby, still on edge and longing for a quiet evening, had pleaded a headache and the need to talk to Robert, and returned home alone. She'd hoped a good night's sleep would improve her mood, but Robert and she had talked far into the night. He'd heard nothing from Sarah. He'd been calling and texting her all day, but either she'd switched off her mobile phone or it had run out of battery. "I can't decide which is worse – is she running away from me, or has something terrible happened?" He'd lifted Fuzzy and buried his face in the cat's fur. "You were right about the police. They say there's no reason to worry, yet."

  Joe had said the same thing to Libby. A missing adult driving away in their own car, even a newly-wed, wouldn't trigger a major police search for several days.

  Robert had continued, "I've spoken to everyone I can think of. All her friends and work c
olleagues. Nobody knows what's going on."

  Libby, sick at heart, had struggled to think of something to comfort him. "Look, Belinda's gone as well. They must be together. That's good, isn't it? I'm sure they won't come to any harm." She hoped she was right. She hated to see Robert in such a state of despair. In just a day, he'd gone from a besotted new husband to a nail-biting wreck. If only she could mother him with ice cream, as she had in the old days when he fell off his bike. "If she's not back in a couple of days, I'm sure the police will start searching in earnest."

  After persuading Robert to get some sleep, and falling into her own bed in the small hours, Libby had woken tired and despondent. Robert had still been asleep when she'd left the house.

  Now, Libby frowned at Max. She stammered, "I-I suppose so." She checked no one was around to hear. "What did you want to talk about? I had a thought about Liam's notes—" She broke off as two schoolboys crashed through the door, fighting to be first to the counter, jostling each other and howling with laughter.

  Max leaned against the glass showcase, admiring Libby's chocolates. "What if I just want the pleasure of your company?"

  Libby served the boys with blueberry muffins, their sniggers fading under Max's icy stare. "We'll have to eat fast. I promised to do the afternoon shift and Frank's in a spin about this new patisserie. He's worried about business, and judging by that woman's shifty behaviour, I've a feeling he may be right. Could we go somewhere close?"

  "Midday, then. At the Lighthouse?"

  Once at the pub, they settled at a table in the corner and studied the menu. "Sometimes, pub food is just what I need," Max said. "Not that it's ever as good as yours, of course."

  Libby took a breath, ready to bring up the subject of Kate Stephenson. She changed her mind. She didn't want to quarrel in public. "Why did you want to meet?"

  Max didn't answer. Instead, he glanced round the room, nodding to a couple of acquaintances at another table. Libby realised he'd deliberately picked a table at a fair distance from anyone else. His expression was grim.