Murder and the Glovemaker's Son

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘That’s bias!’ said Libby with a grin.

  ‘So it is,’ said Ian. ‘Now I’m off home. I can’t keep taking advantage of Hetty, and besides, my emergency wardrobe has run out.’

  ‘And we still don’t know where home is,’ said Libby, as they closed the door after him.

  ‘The fact that we don’t, even after all this time, means he really wants to keep his private life private,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t pry.’

  ‘I thought we were part of his private life,’ said Libby mournfully. ‘He’s part of ours.’

  Flo called just after the news had finished on television.

  ‘Meetin’ set up tomorrow fer eleven. All right with you? Arst Hetty along, even if she don’t remember. It is her family.’

  ‘Can Fran come?’

  ‘Wouldn’t expect otherwise. What about that Ian?’

  ‘He knows about it, but the ladies would feel better without him there, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘All fancy ’im,’ said Flo. ’Still, spect you’re right. Carpenter’s, then. Eleven.’

  Carpenter’s Hall was part of the original barn buildings in Maltby Close, now used as a meeting place and venue for occasional entertainments for the residents of the Close, and sometimes for the wider village.

  ‘What do you think they’ll remember?’ asked Ben.

  ‘No idea, but if Flo remembers him there might be something. Worth a try, anyway.’

  Friday morning, and almost the end of The Glover’s Men’s run of Twelfth Night at the Oast Theatre.

  ‘I’ve just remembered,’ said Libby, when Fran arrived from Nethergate. ‘Nathan Vine lived here, didn’t he? In Steeple Lane. No wonder Una knew him.’

  ‘What I’m wondering,’ said Fran, ‘is when he moved here. From what you’ve told me, he didn’t live here when he first made contact.’

  ‘So he must have moved here afterwards,’ said Libby. ‘To make his search easier? But Greg wouldn’t have been pleased. He didn’t want anything to do with the history.’

  ‘I expect that’s why he handed it all over to Russell,’ said Fran. ‘You know, “here you are, you deal with this madman.” That would make sense.’

  ‘It would,’ said Libby thoughtfully. ‘I can’t think why it slipped my mind.’

  ‘There’s been a lot going into it,’ said Fran.

  ‘Going into what?’

  ‘Your mind.’

  They turned into the high street and crossed the road just as a flotilla of Glover’s Men crossed the other way. A couple greeted Libby.

  ‘Meeting with the suits,’ one explained. ‘I think they want to ask for an extra performance.’

  ‘Really?’ Libby raised her eyebrows. ‘Even after all the problems?’

  ‘People got really interested,’ said another actor. ‘They’ve had more ticket requests than they could cope with, and we were already sold out.’

  ‘Why don’t people go to one of the other venues?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Because this is the one where all the interesting stuff has happened,’ said the first actor, the irrepressible Feste. ‘Will you say yes?’

  ‘It will depend on what we’ve got coming in,’ said Libby. ‘You’ll have to ask Ben in the office.’

  ‘Not us, love,’ said Feste. ‘The suits!’ And with a wave, he was gone.

  ‘They’d better be bloody nice to us after the last time we crossed swords,’ muttered Libby, as she and Fran turned into Maltby Close. As they did so, her mobile began to ring.

  ‘It’s me!’ spluttered Ben.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Libby. ‘The suits have been on.’

  ‘Yes – how did you know? If by that you mean “management”?’

  ‘Fran and I just bumped into the actors. They said they wanted to ask for another day.’

  ‘Yes – and they had the bloody infernal cheek to summon me to their presence in the hall.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘If they wanted to speak to me they could come up to the Manor and wait for me in the theatre foyer.’

  ‘Excellent! And?’

  ‘They blustered and said they’d get back to me. Honestly! Some people.’

  ‘I suppose they think we’ll go for the prestige.’

  ‘Prestige my -! They’ve been nothing but trouble.’

  ‘Well, they haven’t actually, Ben. The acting company have been fine. It’s the trouble they’ve unwittingly caused.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Ben with a sigh. ‘Anyway, what do you think? Do we let them have another day?’

  ‘What’s coming in next week?’

  ‘Nothing until Friday, then it’s a one-nighter.’

  ‘So we’ve got room? Well, why not? Make ’em pay through the nose, though.’

  ‘So what happened?’ asked Fran. Libby told her, and they both arrived at Carpenter’s Hall laughing, just as Tristan Scott came hurtling from behind the church.

  ‘Libby!’

  ‘Here we go,’ whispered Libby, and put on her sternest face. ‘Tristan?’

  ‘I was wondering,’ he panted, skidding to a breathless halt in front of her, ‘if you could pop up to see the committee for a moment?’

  ‘No, Tristan, I couldn’t. I’m just about to go into a meeting, and I believe Ben has already told your management team they will have to go to the theatre and wait until he has time to see them.’

  Tristan opened and closed his mouth in fish-like distress.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Fran kindly. ‘I’m sure if they’re polite and ask nicely Ben will be reasonable. But don’t let them try and browbeat him. It won’t go down well.’

  ‘I told you before, Tristan,’ said Libby. ‘They may be good at making money, but as for people management, forget it. Chocolate teapots spring to mind. Come on, Fran.’

  They opened the door of Carpenter’s Hall and left him standing open mouthed outside.

  ‘Do you think he’ll toughen up eventually?’ said Fran.

  ‘I hope so, for his sake,’ said Libby.

  At one end of the hall, someone had pulled up a tea trolley, set with cups, pot, huge teapot and cakes.

  ‘Come on, gal,’ called Flo. ‘We’re waitin’ for you.’

  Dolly Webley, large and comfortable, sat in the biggest chair, knees wide apart, smiling benignly. Una from Steeple Lane, smaller and brighter, peered over the rim of a cup, while Edie from Creekmarsh sat, waiting to be entertained, next to Hetty, who looked slightly uncomfortable.

  Flo opened proceedings. ‘So, gal, you want to know about this bloke Vine. Well, I told you, he come bothering Hetty and Greg way back, and Greg sent him off with a flea in his ear.’

  ‘Yes, you told me, Flo,’ said Libby. ‘But what I want to know is how come he ended up living in Steeple Lane?’

  This obviously took the wind out of their sails. Hetty sent her best friend a slightly malicious look.

  ‘How did you know that, duck?’ said Una.

  ‘I did tell Flo that Nathan’s address was in Greg’s old book,’ said Libby.

  ‘I thought you meant his address before!’

  ‘No, we’ve no idea where that was,’ said Libby. ‘So what else do you know about him?’

  Flo looked as if she wasn’t about to say another word, but Una spoke again.

  ‘Oh, nice enough bloke. Course, that house has gone now. He only rented it from old Terrance.’

  ‘Who’s old Terrance?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Farmer up beyind Steeple Lane,’ said Dolly. ‘Family knew him. Wanted to build new houses, see, so he wouldn’t sell Farm Cottage, only rent it until he could knock it down. When that Nathan left, that’s what he did. Only they wouldn’t let him build, see?’

  ‘How long was Nathan there, then?’ asked Libby.

  ‘No more’n a coupla years,’ said Dolly. ‘Was he, Una?’

  ‘No. Spent most of ’is time over at the library or with that other chap what used to come down.’

  ‘Russell Wilde?’ suggested Libby.

  ‘Dunn
o, duck. D’you know, Het?’

  Hetty shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. I didn’t even remember him. All I know is whenever Russell came down I got out of the way.’

  ‘He came round one day asking for Nathan,’ said Una. ‘He had all these papers with him. I showed him the way to Farm Cottage and he went off as pleased as punch.’

  ‘Did Greg never say anything about this, Hetty?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Might have done. He got very fed up with Russell. I expect he got fed up with this Nathan Vine as well. Palmed ’em off on one another.’

  ‘That sounds most likely,’ said Libby. ‘And then, when Nathan had all the papers, he moved out of the cottage and went back to London, or wherever he’d come from.’

  ‘You’re assuming the man who went asking for Vine at Una’s was Russell Wilde,’ said Fran.

  ‘Stands to reason,’ said Flo.

  ‘What happened after this man went to find Nathan, Una? Did he go back to London?’

  ‘Stayed round here, didn’t they?’ said Dolly. ‘Went up to the Manor, didn’t he, Het?’

  Hetty nodded. ‘Told you ’is dad came round when Ben was little, didn’t I, gal? Always pokin’ about.’

  ‘But Nathan didn’t?’ said Fran.

  Hetty shook her head.

  ‘And did you see him again?’

  ‘No, gal. Russell went off after a bit. But we forgot about him.’

  ‘Where did he go in the village, Dolly? Do you remember?’ Libby leant forward.

  ‘This Nathan bloke? Didn’t see ’im much. He used to use that photo place a lot.’

  ‘What, the Steeple Martin Studio?’ Libby sat back in surprise.

  Dolly nodded.

  ‘I wonder why.’ Libby frowned.

  ‘To make copies of the documents,’ said Fran. ‘No handy smartphones in those days. When was it, by the way, Dolly?’

  Dolly shrugged and looked at Una and Hetty.

  ‘While Ben was living away,’ said Libby. ‘If the ladies knew, Hetty, why didn’t you?’

  ‘Het didn’t go out in the village much,’ said Flo. ‘Not like us.’

  Hetty nodded, and stood up. ‘Seems to me you’ve got what you need, gal. I’ll take Edie back for a cuppa, now.’

  There was a silence after Hetty and Edie left. Libby looked round at the remaining three and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Always felt on the outside, like,’ said Dolly.

  ‘On account of marrying gentry,’ said Una.

  ‘But that sort of thing doesn’t matter these days,’ said Libby.

  ‘It did when her and Greg got married. Don’t forget she already had Susan. Took a time to live that down,’ said Flo. ‘But then I came down and it was a bit better after that.’

  ‘I’m glad I didn’t live in those days,’ said Libby.

  ‘Gawd, I’d’ve liked to see that!’ said Flo.

  Fran stood up. ‘So would I, Flo. Come on, Libby. Let’s go and think this over. Thank you ladies.’

  ‘Tell you what, duck,’ said Una suddenly, when they were halfway out the door. ‘Sandra might know. Her and Elliot got quite friendly with ’im. That Nathan.’

  ‘Really? Elliot was still alive then? Well, thank you, Una,’ said Libby, surprised.

  ‘Well, what about that!’ she said to Fran once they were outside.

  ‘Sandra Farrow, I take it she meant?’ said Fran.

  ‘That’s the one! Fancy a trip over to Itching?’

  ‘Where was it she lived? Perseverance Row, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose so. Not today, though.’

  ‘No, of course not. Meanwhile, what did you think?’ asked Libby,

  ‘I don’t know. It looks as if Russell and Nathan were in touch and investigating the archive material, and Greg just handed the lot over.’

  ‘But who got hold of who?’ asked Libby ungrammatically. ‘Were either of them crooks? Was one of them planning a scam?’

  ‘Or did they genuinely find the letter and take it to the experts. Then were disappointed when it turned out to be a fake?’

  ‘Do you know,’ said Libby, as they turned into the high street, ‘that’s what it feels like to me. I suppose I don’t want to think that Russell was a crook. And besides, we don’t even know yet that Lucas wasn’t Nathan’s relative.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Libby sent Ian a text about the village ladies’ revelations, then took Fran to the pub for a sandwich.

  ‘Ladies,’ said Tim. ‘What’ll it be?’

  When he delivered their order, Libby asked him to sit down.

  ‘I’ve got work to do, madam,’ he said, sitting, nevertheless. ‘What is it this time?’

  ‘What do you know about previous tenants of the pub?’ asked Libby. ‘In the eighties, for instance.’

  Tim looked suspicious. ‘Not a lot. Why?’

  ‘Not even a name?’

  ‘Oh, I expect I’ve got the names. What do you want them for?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  ‘No? Nothing to do with this fake letter that’s turned up?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Libby, looking at him sideways.

  Tim gave her a knowing look and slid off his stool. ‘I’ll see what I can find.’

  ‘What do you want to know for?’ asked Fran.

  ‘To see if the landlord’s still around. No one like a landlord for knowing the business of the village.’

  ‘But I thought we’d got enough,’ said Fran. ‘We know Nathan was around in the village, and we know he was in touch with Russell -’

  ‘We think it was Russell,’ interrupted Libby.

  ‘Who else would it be?’

  ‘Well, anyway. Now we need to know if Lucas came here. If he met anyone.’

  ‘Like who? He was in touch with National Shakespeare, not the Oast Theatre or the Manor.’

  ‘But he was in Canterbury. He must have been keeping tabs on the progress of the tour.’

  ‘Why, though? The letter was discredited. There was no point in him pursuing it.’

  ‘Well, what about the Law person? He was actually on our ground! Ben’s ground.’

  ‘Look, Lib, the police are looking into both Lucas and Law’s backgrounds. They’ll find whatever evidence there is.’

  Libby made an exasperated sound.

  ‘Oh, eat your sandwich,’ said Fran.

  Fran went home and Libby went up to the Manor, where she found Ben in the estate office.

  ‘We’ll be ready to open in September,’ he said, looking up from the desk. ‘Bought in hops this year, but next year our own. Exciting, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Libby arranged her face into a suitably excited expression.

  Ben lifted an eyebrow. ‘Well, I’m excited. What happened at your meeting?’

  Libby told him.

  ‘So it looks as if Russell was here, got all the stuff from your dad and took it to Nathan up at Farm Cottage.’

  ‘Old Terrance’s place? He was living there?’

  ‘That’s right. Did you know him?’

  ‘Everyone knew him. Dad wanted to buy the cottage, but he wanted to build new houses and wouldn’t sell.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what Una said. But they wouldn’t give him planning permission.’

  ‘Everyone knew that except Terrance. So Nathan was in the village for some time?’

  ‘Until he’d seen all the archive stuff, anyway,’ said Libby. ‘Did the Shakespeare suits ask you for an extension, by the way?’

  ‘They did.’ Ben grinned. ‘I made them pay through the nose. Two performances on Sunday, which means get-out on Monday. Apparently the whole debacle has been extremely fruitful for them. I also pointed out that there was absolutely no reason for us to be accommodating when they had been so rude at the beginning of the run. They had the grace to apologise.’

  ‘So I should think,’ said Libby. ‘Now I’d better go and tell Hetty to mobilise her work force on Tuesday instead of Monday.’

  ‘Already done. She came in to see me when she cam
e back from Flo’s. She remembered things a bit better after talking it over with the others. She’s taken Edie into the kitchen for some lunch now.’

  ‘What has she remembered?’

  ‘She just said she remembered now. She didn’t say what. But it looks as if not only Nathan but Russell actually stayed in the village, doesn’t it? I wonder why I don’t remember?’

  ‘Because Hetty told you that Russell didn’t have much to do with children, even his own. Nathan was obviously the same. And he would have seen your dad in this very office, wouldn’t he? Not in the kitchen or the sitting room.’ Libby looked round the room as if expecting to see something imprinted on the walls.

  ‘He would. And I never came in here unless there was a very special reason.’ Ben pulled a face. ‘Like a punishment.’

  ‘Like the headmaster’s office,’ said Libby with a grin. ‘By the way, did Michael and Bel find anything in the fabric of the building when they were looking?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Except that they took samples for dendro-dating.’

  ‘Which they haven’t had back yet,’ said Libby. ‘So we don’t know, still, who had the knowledge to make that fake.’

  ‘Presumably, Nathan had. I doubt if Russell had, or he wouldn’t have taken the material to Nathan.’

  ‘It’s a shame. Lucas sounds a much nastier type than Nathan. I want it to be him who made the fake,’ said Libby.

  ‘And it can’t be, because Nathan took it to Gilbert.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Libby got up from her perch on the desk and sighed. ‘I can’t think of anything else I can do. I can’t look into the backgrounds of any of these people, so I’ll have to find something else to do.’

  ‘If you’re not going to run the Summer Show this year, you could start planning the pantomime,’ said Ben. ‘You haven’t thought about that yet, have you?’

  ‘Oh, the endless grind,’ groaned Libby. ‘All right, I’ll think about it.’

  That evening, after an afternoon of slogging through old pantomime scripts and falling asleep over them, Libby was just dishing up fish and chips for supper when the phone rang. Ben answered it and came into the kitchen looking surprised.

  ‘That was the theatre. They said they had a friend of ours in the audience tonight who wanted to know if we could go up and meet him for a drink in the interval.’