Murder and the Glovemaker's Son

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Edward!’

  By the time the interval came round, Libby and Ben were sitting at one of the little white wrought iron tables in the foyer bar. Two members of the semi-permanent Oast Theatre Company were manning the bar, and Libby had to restrain herself from telling them how to do the job. Edward came through the auditorium doors and was waved towards Libby and Ben by the bar staff. He greeted Libby with a kiss and shook Ben’s hand.

  ‘Here I am then!’ he said, sitting down. ‘I heard Libby’s Loonies were in need of help, so I came along.’

  Edward had been delighted when Harry included him in what he called Libby’s Loonies, after helping to solve a mystery.

  ‘Did Andrew call you?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Yes, he did. Although I don’t know that I shall be any use. The house isn’t my period, and I’m certainly not a Shakespeare buff.’

  ‘But you were interested anyway?’ said Ben. ‘Do you want a drink, by the way?’

  ‘No thanks, I’ve got to sit through the second half yet.’ Edward grinned at them both. ‘Well, it is nice to see you again. Will you have time to see me afterwards?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ben, ‘won’t we, Lib? Why don’t we wait for you in the pub? Perhaps Harry can come in after he’s finished service.’ Harry had taken a distinct shine to Edward.

  ‘Great. Trinity term’s just finished, so I’m off the hook for a while. Going back to Leicester to see friends, but I don’t have to get up in the mornings.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Libby. ‘We can see a bit more of you, then.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Edward. ‘And now tell me more about the current mystery.’

  Between them, they told him the story of the fake letter, Nathan Vine, Duncan Lucas and Ben’s family.

  ‘And Gideon Law, don’t forget,’ said Libby. ‘Although we have no idea how he fits in.’

  Edward was frowning into the distance.

  ‘Have you thought of something?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Edward slowly. ‘Probably means nothing. But we come across it in our side of the business. Remember the things we found in Dark House?’

  ‘The Celtic cross and the ring? What was it? A gunnel ring?’

  ‘Ginnel ring,’ corrected Edward. ‘Well, as you found out, they were valuable, and there is a huge market in antique jewellery. An illegal one. And the same goes for paintings and documents. Your policeman must have told you this?’

  ‘He has. And even I thought maybe our forgers might be trying to create some kind of provenance for themselves in order to gain some traction in the underground market,’ said Ben.

  ‘We both did,’ said Libby.

  The five-minute bell rang.

  ‘We’ll continue this in the pub,’ said Ben. ‘Will you have a drink when you get there, Edward?’

  ‘Just coffee.’ Edward pulled a face. ‘I have to drive back to my digs in Medway.’

  Libby and Ben helped clear the bar area and wash up glasses, then strolled down the drive towards the pub.

  ‘Edward’s thinking of a scam, isn’t he?’ said Libby.

  ‘A scam gone wrong,’ said Ben. ‘Do you think it was originally? When Nathan got hold of the stuff from Russell?’

  ‘Or Russell got hold of it from Dad? Is that how it started? To make money?’

  ‘We have thought of that before,’ said Libby.

  ‘But not seriously. If Russell had the idea -’

  ‘But it looks as if Nathan was on the trail of the archive material before Russell,’ said Libby.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Ben. ‘I think possibly Russell wanted the stuff, and when he couldn’t get it, set Nathan onto Dad. He found the forger, Nathan I mean, but when the V&A rejected it, they decided it was too risky to carry on.’

  ‘Which of them paid for the forgery, then, do you think?’ asked Libby.

  ‘No idea. Share of the profits, maybe?’

  ‘Heaven knows. And where does Gideon Law come in?’

  ‘Well, Edward’s hardly going to speculate on that, is he? He doesn’t know anything about Gideon.’

  ‘Come to that, neither do we,’ said Libby gloomily.

  ‘Do you think your visit to Sandra Farrow will help? Have you rung her, by the way?’

  ‘No – do you think I ought to?’

  ‘Of course you should. As I remember her, she was a very proper lady.’

  ‘Who played the ukulele and was a whizz at darts,’ said Libby, with a grin.

  ‘You’re spending a lot of time in here at the moment,’ said Tim as they arrived at the bar. ‘Fed up with Allhallow’s Lane?’

  ‘No, we’re meeting someone,’ said Ben. ‘A university professor who’s here to see the play.’

  ‘Another one?’ said Tim. ‘You know an awful lot of clever blokes, don’t you?’

  ‘We just stumble across them,’ said Libby. ‘They litter the ground round here.’

  Tim’s eyes did widen a fraction when Edward entered the bar some half an hour later, but he smilingly produced a cup of coffee and brought it to the table.

  ‘Never knew such people for having tee-total friends,’ he said.

  Edward laughed. ‘Not me! I’ve just got to drive back to Medway tonight. I really should think about moving to Steeple Martin, shouldn’t I?’

  His three listeners chorused agreement.

  ‘Didn’t you mention something about that before?’ said Libby.

  ‘I think I might have done.’ Edward flashed his brilliant smile. ‘But when I actually started at the University, I realised how much further away it was than I’d realised. If I’d been based on the Canterbury campus it would have been different.’

  ‘Don’t they shunt you around between the two?’ asked Ben. ‘I rather thought they would.’

  ‘Occasionally,’ said Edward. ‘But we’re not here to talk about that. Tell me more about your Shakespeare Mystery. You see, the more I thought about it, the more I thought the Arts and Antiquities squad at Scotland Yard should be involved.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ‘I agree,’ said Libby. ‘In fact, they are.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Ben frowned into his beer. ‘They should have been from the beginning, shouldn’t they?’

  ‘Ian said he’d been on to them,’ said Libby. ‘He told us.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Edward thoughtfully, ‘when the original approach was made to the V&A, to – what was his name?’

  ‘Gilbert Harrison,’ supplied Libby.

  ‘To Professor Harrison, then, there was no suggestion of any fraud taking place, as the article was withdrawn as soon as doubt was expressed.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Libby, ‘which is why I’m disinclined to blame Nathan Vine for anything illegal.’

  ‘Except,’ said Ben, ‘that he deliberately came down here, rented a cottage and hung around.’

  ‘So did your Uncle Russell,’ said Libby.

  ‘And they were in collusion,’ said Ben.

  ‘And it looks like a scam,’ said Edward. ‘I don’t know whether the original plan was to palm it off on an organisation like National Shakespeare – I doubt it – but certainly to sell it to the highest bidder. Don’t you think so?’

  ‘It looks like it,’ said Ben despondently.

  ‘You can’t find out anything more about this Nathan Vine?’

  ‘We can’t, although I’m hoping to talk to someone who might have known him over the weekend,’ said Libby. ‘Although I doubt if they’d know about anything dodgy in his background.’

  ‘And even if it was a scam,’ said Ben, ‘it would then have to be carried on by Duncan Lucas, who said he was Vine’s nephew, although we have no proof.’

  ‘Well, surely you know that he was a criminal?’ said Edward. ‘He was murdered, for goodness’ sake!’

  ‘Every murder victim isn’t a criminal,’ said Libby. ‘But he was. Ian said he had various aliases – aliae? – and operated on a large scale. He was surprised that hadn�
�t come up before.’

  ‘But everything points to him being involved in something – well -’

  ‘Dodgy?’ suggested Libby. ‘Yes, it does. But then we’ve got Gideon Law being done in, too. And on Ben’s land.’

  ‘Well, I must say I can’t see how he fits in,’ said Edward with a frown, ‘but then, I don’t know anything about the National Shakespeare set-up. You said he was part of their board?’

  ‘A money man, apparently,’ said Ben.

  ‘So concerned with any potential loss of revenue?’

  ‘Suppose so,’ said Libby, ‘but when he was found, all that had been ironed out. They’d not lost any money, and were capitalising on the Titus Watt connection.’

  ‘Explain that to me again, please?’ said Edward. ‘Briefly!’

  ‘Titus Watt was an Elizabethan apothecary like John Dee,’ said Ben, before Libby could launch into the story, ‘and probably, like him, a member of Elizabeth’s spy network. There is a genuine reference in the archives to Shakespeare’s company coming to the house to perform on one of their tours.’

  ‘And we think,’ interrupted Libby, ‘that this is the basis for the forged letter. No one could have known about it, because it was in the private archive of Ben’s family home until his Dad let his cousin Russell have it, as he was much more interested in the history.’

  ‘And your father didn’t want it?’ Edward turned horrified eyes on Ben.

  ‘Because it wasn’t our family house. We only bought it in the mid-eighteen hundreds,’ said Ben, amused.

  ‘Ah.’ Edward lapsed into silence.

  ‘And that’s why we’re uncomfortable,’ said Libby. ‘Because this Russell might have turned criminal, and not just been interested in the history.’

  ‘Well.’ Edward roused himself. ‘I can see why Andrew got on to me.’

  ‘You can? But you said it wasn’t your period and you weren’t a Shakespeare buff,’ said Libby.

  ‘Ah.’ Edward grinned. ‘But I am one of the Arts and Antiquities special advisors.’

  Ben and Libby gaped at him.

  ‘Why didn’t you say?’ said Libby at last.

  ‘Can I get you another drink?’ asked Edward standing up. ‘You look as though you need it.’

  Ben and Libby agreed to another drink, and waited, slightly bemused, for Edward to resume his story.

  ‘I’d already been approached when we looked into the Dark House business,’ he continued after setting down the glasses, ‘and by the time of the Hellfire tunnels I was on the list. They have resident experts, as it were, but they need a fleet of us who specialise in certain areas. Obviously.’

  ‘So Andrew got in touch with you because he knew you were an Arts and Antiquities advisor. Why?’ asked Ben.

  ‘He thought it should have been brought in to Arts and Antiques, and he thought I could find out if it had, and what the findings were.’

  ‘Well, yes, I can see that, but it’s not your field,’ said Libby.

  ‘Ah, but I know the people to ask,’ said Edward, flashing his beautiful smile once more. ‘However,’ he said, suddenly serious, ‘I shall have to tread very delicately, or I might upset your handsome Detective Connell.’

  Libby frowned. ‘That’s a point.’

  ‘And we don’t want to do that,’ said Ben,

  Libby frowned at her drink. ‘Should we ask him?’

  ‘No!’ said Ben and Edward together.

  ‘That’s just what might annoy him,’ said Ben.

  ‘Oh.’ Libby gave a disconsolate sigh. ‘Well, it’s all down to talking to Sandra Thingy, then.’

  ‘Apart from Edward going in to bat on our behalf,’ said Ben.

  ‘Well, yes, but there’s nothing I can do about that.’ Libby picked up her drink, thought about it, and put it down again. ‘What are you going to ask?’

  ‘I shall ask if they’ve been approached by the Kent Constabulary, and if so, what the outcome was.’ Edward looked at his watch. ‘And now I’d better go.’ He stood up and looked round the bar. ‘Such a nice place. Sorry I won’t see Harry and Peter, but I’ll arrange to come over next week some time. Will Hetty have room at the Manor by then, Ben?’

  ‘Yes, the actors will have gone by Monday – I hope.’ He and Libby both stood up and Libby kissed the smooth black cheek.

  ‘See you next week, then,’ she said. ‘And thanks for agreeing to look into it.’

  Tim had called time before Harry and Peter skittered in, Harry looking dishevelled and Peter his immaculate self.

  ‘Gawd, what an evening!’ said Harry, collapsing into a chair. ‘Don’t throw us out yet, love. I need sustenance.’

  He waved a languid hand at Tim, and Peter, with a rolling of the eyes, went to fetch drinks.

  ‘You’ve just missed Edward,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh – my black beauty!’ said Harry, sitting upright and beaming. ‘Why didn’t he wait?’

  ‘He had to drive back to Medway. But he said he’d be back next week.’

  ‘He’s working down here now, then? I remember he said he was going to be.’

  ‘Yes, one of the Medway campuses. Shame he’s not in Canterbury.’

  ‘Who isn’t?’ asked Peter, coming up with drinks.

  ‘Edward – you remember him? The magnificent professor?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ said Peter, amused. ‘You do a good line in magnificent professors, Libby, don’t you?’

  ‘Only Edward and Michael. Gilbert and Andrew are a bit long in the tooth,’ said Libby.

  ‘And there’s my cousin,’ said Ben. ‘Although I wouldn’t call him magnificent. More bear-like.’

  ‘And they’re all hanging around,’ said Peter. ‘Like a symposium.’

  ‘Are they hoping for cultural crumbs?’ asked Harry. ‘Attracted by the whiff of scholarship?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Libby frowned. ‘Michael’s attracted more by a whiff of Belinda, if you ask me.’

  ‘And Gilbert wants to see justice done,’ said Ben.

  ‘And Andrew and Richard are just curious.’ Libby nodded. ‘So are we all.’

  ‘And Edward? What attracts him?’ asked Harry. ‘Not me, I suppose.’

  ‘Sadly no,’ said Libby. ‘Much the same as Gilbert, really. An interest in justice. Andrew asked him.’

  ‘So where, if one may ask, are you à ce moment-là?’ asked Harry. ‘En investigation?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Ben. ‘Nobody seems to know why the fake letter was made, or by whom.’

  ‘Or why the two murders were committed. And by whom,’ added Libby. ‘Oh, and do you remember Sandra Thingy?’

  ‘Thingy?’ repeated Harry and Peter.

  ‘Oh, you know. Used to live up in Steeple Lane.’

  ‘My ma knew her quite well. Didn’t she remarry?’ said Peter.

  ‘Yes, and used to belong to the ukulele group.’

  ‘Farrow,’ said Ben with a sigh.

  ‘Yes, her. Lives over in Itching now. You remember she got quite involved over the ukulele murder. Apparently, she and her Elliot also knew Nathan Vine quite well.’

  ‘The original fakery person?’ said Harry. ‘Well, well, well!’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ said Peter. ‘Sandra and Elliot were always dashing off to concerts and theatre in London. A nice Shakespearean collector, or whatever he said he was, would have appealed to them.’

  ‘That’s a point,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder what he said he was? Why he wanted the archive?’

  ‘I don’t believe he would have asked Dad for it,’ said Ben. ‘He might have asked for a look at it...’

  ‘So he asked Russell to ask for it,’ said Libby.

  ‘We’ve been over this before,’ said Ben. ‘Either Nathan asked Russell to get it, or Russell asked Nathan to fake the letter. We’re no nearer knowing which way round it was.’

  ‘Well, if Mrs Thingy knew Nathan, she might be able to tell you,’ said Harry. ‘And now tell me what Edward said.’

  The following mornin
g, Libby searched her contact list for Sandra Farrow’s number. When she found it, she called Fran.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, for heavens’ sake! Tell her the truth. She knows perfectly well what sort of situations you get into, she won’t be surprised.’

  ‘This isn’t my situation!’ said Libby, indignant. ‘It’s landed on me!’

  Fran sighed. ‘Yes, Lib. They always do.’

  ‘So what do I say?’

  ‘Do you remember a man called Nathan Vine who used to live in – what was it called?’

  ‘Farm Cottage, was it?’

  ‘Farm Cottage, then, in Steeple Lane.’

  ‘Hmm. A bit bald.’

  ‘Well, elaborate then. But not too much, or she’ll get confused. She must be getting on now.’

  ‘Oh, like Flo and Hetty get confused, you mean?’ said Libby scornfully. ‘Some hopes!’

  ‘Not all old people are like them, Lib, and, as I remember, she was younger than the rest of them so I suppose she isn’t likely to get confused. She might refuse to help after the last time, though,’ said Fran. ‘Well, go on, ring her then. Might as well give it a go.’

  ‘Are you coming with me?’

  ‘Depends when it is.’

  ‘OK.’ Libby heaved a huge sigh.

  ‘You were hoping I’d volunteer to ring her, weren’t you?’

  Libby stifled a snort.

  ‘Well, I’m not. Go on. Off you go.’

  Libby wandered round the house for a while finding jobs to do, and eventually took the phone into the garden and made the call.

  ‘Good lord, Libby! Yes, of course I remember. Have you got another murder?’

  Libby choked.

  ‘Er – yes!’ she gasped. ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Is it to do with the Shakespeare letter?’

  Libby spluttered.

  ‘You see, we’re coming over tonight to see the play – really looking forward to it – so we were following all the reports about the forgery. And there was a murder connected to that, wasn’t there?’

  ‘Yes, there was,’ said Libby, recovering. ‘And I did want to ask you something connected to that. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Heavens above! What could we have to do with it?’

  ‘When you lived in Steeple Lane, you knew a man called Nathan Vine, Una said.’