Murder and the Glovemaker's Son

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘He was a very nice man. Single, like me, and, like me, inclined to become obsessed by hobbies.’

  ‘And one of his was Shakespeare?’

  ‘It was. He spent most of his spare time researching him, or what’s known about him, I swear he knew all the plays and most of the sonnets off by heart and he eventually became certain of the theory that Shakespeare was a spy.’

  Libby, Ben, Peter and Harry all registered astonishment in different ways.

  ‘Well, bugger me,’ said Harry.

  ‘Hal!’ reproved Peter.

  Philip looked innocently round the table. ‘It’s not an unknown theory, you know. There’ve been books written about it. And in fact, that was one of the reasons I suggested he might come down here.’ He turned to Ben. ‘I suppose you know all about Titus Watt owning your house?’

  ‘We do now,’ said Ben. ‘We didn’t before all this started.’

  ‘Oh?’ Philip looked as though he couldn’t believe anyone would remain ignorant of this. ‘Well, I expect you know now that he was an Elizabethan spy?’

  ‘Like John Dee,’ said Libby.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Philip, ‘only not as well-known, either then or now. I had the fanciful idea that the spying connection might link somehow to Shakespeare. It was very tenuous, but when Nathan started to look into it, he thought there might have been a link as The Lord Chamberlain’s Men toured the area in 1597. He worked out that this was after Shakespeare had reappeared in London, and after he stopped being mentioned by Dee.’

  ‘He was mentioned by Dee?’ Now Peter was frowning.

  ‘Not exactly. There’s a theory that someone Dee talks about was, in fact, Shakespeare, but, as I said, that person disappears from Dee’s diaries in the mid-nineties, or thereabouts. It fits in with Shakespeare’s rise to fame in London.’ Philip laughed. ‘Don’t take me for an expert! I just had to sit and listen to Nathan raving on about it.’

  ‘So that was why he wanted to see any archive documents,’ said Libby.

  ‘Yes. I suggested he tried to get in to meet the owner – your father, Ben – and Elliot Brown took him up to the Manor and introduced him. I’m afraid he wasn’t very complimentary about your dad, Ben.’

  ‘No, I’m not surprised,’ said Ben. ‘Dad thought he was a nuisance, I think. And he wasn’t interested in the history of the house.’

  ‘So he said. But then your uncle came down. And I don’t know exactly what happened, of course, but Nathan brought him to the pub one night and said he was celebrating being “fobbed off”. That was how he put it.’

  ‘Yes, Sandra said the same thing,’ said Libby. ‘So what had happened? Greg unloaded all the archive stuff on to Russell and told him to go and deal with Nathan?’

  ‘That’s how I read it,’ said Philip. ‘Anyway, the next thing I knew was that Russell had rented a room somewhere in the village, and Nathan brought him to the Chess Club.’

  ‘Well!’ said Ben, sitting back in his chair.

  ‘Blow me down,’ said Harry.

  ‘Good Lord,’ said Peter.

  Libby didn’t say anything.

  ‘Come on, Lib! What have you got to say?’ said Harry.

  Libby seemed to come back from a long way away. ‘Why didn’t more people know him, then?’

  ‘That’s a point,’ said Ben. ‘And why doesn’t my mum remember Nathan, at least?’

  ‘She probably would if she tried hard enough,’ said Peter. ‘And she does remember Richard’s dad. But if both Nathan and Russell were living in the village for a while, it does seem odd that they aren’t remembered.’

  ‘Had Nathan retired by then?’ asked Libby. ‘Did he and Russell spend a lot of time going over the documents?’

  ‘I think so.’ Philip looked doubtful. ‘Although they didn’t exactly take me into their confidence. They appeared to have got very close, and I only saw them at the pub.’

  ‘Was Russell retired by then, too?’ asked Harry.

  ‘I don’t know, but I assumed he was. I don’t even know what he did for a living.’

  ‘We were also told that Nathan spent a lot of time at the library – in Canterbury, or Maidstone I suppose – and used the photo shop a lot,’ said Ben.

  Philip nodded. ‘He did. I think he was photographing documents. No phone cameras then. Funny, isn’t it? It wasn’t that long ago, yet it seems like centuries away. And I think he was looking at the Maidstone archives. Russell used to go with him.’

  ‘I expect that was why the villagers didn’t know much about him if he was always away,’ said Libby. ‘They don’t always know much about the commuters.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Philip. ‘I’ve never understood why people commute from here to London. It’s not exactly close to the station, is it?’

  ‘Where did Russell rent his room?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Somewhere down Lendle Lane.’ Philip stood up. ‘And now I must go. It was lovely to meet you all. Perhaps we could have a meal together at Harry’s restaurant soon?’

  There was general assent to this suggestion, and they parted with expressions of mutual esteem.

  ‘Well, that was a turn-up,’ said Harry, leaning back and crossing his ankles.

  ‘Didn’t tell us much that was new, though,’ said Libby.

  ‘But we got confirmation of a lot of things we suspected,’ said Ben. ‘And it looks as if Nathan wasn’t the bad guy, as you hoped.’

  ‘I wonder why they didn’t come into the restaurant,’ said Peter.

  ‘Perhaps you weren’t open then,’ said Libby. ‘We still haven’t pinned down when all this happened.’

  ‘And what we still don’t know,’ said Ben, ‘is how Lucas got hold of the letter.’

  ‘And why, when they were both apparently staying in the village, neither of your parents came across them. Nathan seems to have been known, if only vaguely, but Russell’s even vaguer.’

  ‘If you ask me,’ said Peter, ‘they were avoiding your parents. And probably my mother, too. She was obviously still up at Steeple Farm then.’

  ‘And Susan,’ said Libby, looking at Ben. ‘Have you called her?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Ben, looking uncomfortable.

  ‘Susan?’ Peter looked horrified. ‘Oh, you can’t – poor Susan!’

  ‘I’ll be tactful,’ said Ben. ‘And I’ve seen her since she got settled in London, don’t forget.’ He glanced across at Libby. ‘Even Mum has.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that!’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Ben nodded. ‘Susan didn’t feel she could come here, for obvious reasons, so I’ve taken Mum up once or twice. And they speak on the phone at least once a week.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ said Peter. ‘I always felt bad about Susan.’

  ‘So did I,’ said Libby. ‘In fact, I felt bad about the whole thing.’

  ‘Just think though, petal,’ said Harry, ‘it set you off on your adventures and got you together with the lovely Ben.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Libby.

  ‘Mixed blessing,’ said Ben.

  ‘Shut up, Hal,’ said Peter.

  They sat in a silence for a moment or two, then Ben said ‘Come on, Lib, it’s early yet. Let’s go and give the youngsters a hand. The cast may want to let their hair down tonight.’

  ‘God forbid,’ said Peter. ‘Rather you than me.’

  But Belinda and Michael didn’t want any help.

  ‘They’re a bit subdued tonight,’ said Bel. ‘We haven’t even got any orders for after the show. We offered, but they said they’re going back to the Manor for an early night. And their company manager locks up, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, and he’s been very good about it,’ said Ben.

  ‘So we might as well go home?’ said Libby. ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘Oh go on, do!’ said Bel. ‘We wouldn’t have offered in the first place if we weren’t sure!’

  So Libby and Ben strolled back to Allhallow’s Lane.

  ‘And do we do anything now?’ asked Libby. ‘Do we te
ll Ian? Is there anything there he doesn’t know?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Ben. ‘He’s been going through their lives, hasn’t he? Lucas, Russell and Law. He probably knows it all, now.’

  ‘Not necessarily about the locals in the village. You remember he said the village ladies would be helpful? I don’t suppose Lucas, Vine and Law – or Russell – made notes in their diaries of meeting neighbours.’

  ‘Unless they were useful to them,’ said Ben. ‘But honestly, I don’t see how we can find out anything else. We know now about where they lived and at least some of the people they knew, and it doesn’t seem as though either Russell or Nathan talked to anyone else about the archive documents.’

  ‘No.’ Libby shook her head sadly. ‘And Gideon Law doesn’t seem to have had any involvement in the village.’

  ‘Except being killed here,’ said Ben, unlocking the door of number seventeen.

  On Monday morning Ben went straight to the theatre after a breakfast of tea and toast to help with the get-out, and Bel appeared moodily downstairs with her little case.

  ‘Oh – you off?’ Libby raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘I’ve stayed longer than I intended to,’ said Bel, picking at a slice of toast Ben had left on his plate.

  ‘And you were prepared to stay longer.’

  Bel sent her a sideways look. ‘Yes, well...’

  ‘So, he’s going back to London?’

  Bel nodded.

  ‘And what’s the problem?’ said Libby, sitting down at the table. ‘Don’t you think he’ll want to see you in London?’

  ‘I don’t know. It won’t be the same.’

  ‘No.’ Libby looked thoughtful. ‘And no one can do anything to force the issue. I’d help if I could.’

  ‘God, no, Ma!’ exclaimed Bel in horror. ‘Don’t help!’

  Libby grinned. ‘No, dear.’

  She did, however, accompany Belinda up to the Manor to say goodbye to Michael.

  ‘Of course I’m taking her back!’ he said, in answer to Libby question. ‘And I’ll bring her back down when we’re required.’

  Belinda brightened considerably at this, and gave Hetty an enthusiastic hug.

  ‘Just as well we’re out of your way before all the actors start milling about,’ she said.

  Hetty gruffly agreed.

  ‘Do you think we ought to wait and say goodbye to Richard?’ asked Michael.

  ‘We’ll do that for you,’ said Ben, appearing from across the courtyard. ‘You get off. We’ll be overrun with traffic soon. You don’t want to get caught up in it.’

  ‘Say goodbye to Andrew and Gilbert for us,’ said Bel, giving her mother a hearty kiss. ‘See you soon.’

  ‘Should we go and winkle out Richard?’ asked Libby, as they stood in the courtyard waving Bel and Michael off.

  ‘Why, though?’ asked Ben. ‘He doesn’t have to go, as long as he caters for himself and doesn’t get in the way.’

  ‘That’s just what he might do,’ said Libby. ‘If he carries on investigating.’

  ‘Oho! Pots and kettles, there, don’t you think?’ Ben gave her a friendly buffet on the arm.

  Libby smiled reluctantly. ‘I suppose so. And quite honestly, it does look as though we’ve come to the end of the line, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does. Come on, let’s walk down to the high street and see how the incident room’s doing.’

  ‘Eh? Why?’

  ‘Well, if it’s winding down we know there’ll be nothing more to do.’

  ‘And what about the stuff we found out last night?’ asked Libby.

  Ben shrugged. ‘We’ll test the water.’

  As they crossed over the high street, someone hailed Ben from Maltby Close.

  ‘Johnny!’ Ben smiled and put out a hand. ‘Do you know Libby?’

  ‘Oh, aye.’ Johnny, a friendly looking middle-aged man wearing overalls, held out a hand to Libby. ‘Friend of young Harry’s.’

  ‘Among other things,’ said Libby with a grin. ‘Are you the Johnny who did the flat and the spiral staircase?’

  ‘That was me.’

  ‘We were only talking about you last night,’ said Ben. ‘Or the Chess Club actually.’

  ‘Oh?’ Johnny raised his eyebrows in interrogation.

  ‘We were asking Philip about Nathan Vine,’ said Libby.

  ‘Him!’ Johnny Darling’s face darkened ominously. ‘Bastard!’

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.’ Johnny bobbed his head towards Libby who was temporarily deprived of speech.

  ‘Didn’t like him, eh?’ said Ben. ‘We haven’t heard anything bad about him.’

  ‘No?’ Johnny pulled a face. ‘Well, I’ll tell you. A right chiseller, ’e was.’

  ‘Why? What did he do?’ asked Libby, finally finding her voice.

  ‘Got me to do a load of work on that Farm Cottage and then wouldn’t pay me.’

  ‘Really?’ said Ben. ‘I thought it belonged to Terrance and he let it fall down in the end?’

  ‘Old Terrance,’ said Johnny, settling comfortably on one hip, ‘didn’t know his ar – er – bum from his elbow. Thought he was going to build posh houses, when everyone else knew he’d never get planning permission. So he wouldn’t sell Farm Cottage.’

  ‘So Nathan Vine got it on a repairing lease?’ said Libby.

  ‘Aye, and got me to do the repairin’!’

  ‘And why wouldn’t he pay?’ asked Ben.

  ‘He just didn’t want to,’ said Johnny. ‘Made all sorts of excuses, said it wasn’t worth it because Terrance would let it fall down. Then in the end he did a flit.’

  ‘Really?’ gasped Libby. ‘Left without even paying his rent?’

  ‘Nor me neither. Tried to find him in London. Never did.’

  ‘What work were you doing?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Patching up at first. Bit of plumbing. Then he had me build this shed in the garden. More like a – I dunno – a security shed. No windows,’

  ‘What did he want it for?’ asked Libby.

  Johnny shrugged.

  ‘And Terrance wouldn’t pay you, either?’ said Ben.

  ‘Him! Never.’ Johnny hitched his bag on to his shoulder. ‘Well, good luck if you’re trying to find him.’

  ‘Oh, Vine’s dead,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh?’ The eyebrows went up again. ‘Well, good riddance. I’ll be seein’ you.’

  ‘Well, that was a surprise,’ said Libby, watching the stocky figure disappear into the eight-til-late.

  ‘And what did he want that shed for?’ murmured Ben.

  ‘Locking something up,’ said Libby. ‘Something he couldn’t hide in the house?’

  ‘But, surely, a brand new security shed would look suspicious?’ said Ben. ‘And even odder that no one mentioned him.’

  ‘Yes – you’d think someone would have said: “you know, the bloke with the shiny new shed”, wouldn’t you? It would stick out like a sore thumb. And Johnny wouldn’t have kept quiet about it, would he?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Sandra and Una if they know anything about it?’ suggested Ben. ‘They might.’

  ‘I bet Pete’s mum would have done, too, living up there.’ Libby tucked her hands in her pockets and turned to face the church. ‘Come on, let’s go and see if Ian’s in residence.’

  But Ian wasn’t in the incident room, which was, as Ben suspected, winding down.

  ‘I’m sure I can’t tell you,’ said nice DC Trent. ‘I think most of the investigation’s going on in London.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ said Libby with a sigh. ‘Well, we just thought we ought to tell him that Belinda – you know, who found the body? – and Michael Allen have gone back to London, and ask if the rest of the visitors could go home.’

  DC Trent looked confused. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I suppose it’s all right if we have their addresses. Are they material witnesses?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ asked Libby. Ben dug her in the ribs.<
br />
  ‘Not all of them,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about it, we’ll send him a text.’

  DC Trent opened her mouth and then obviously didn’t know what to say, so smiled weakly. Libby and Ben left.

  ‘That went well,’ said Libby.

  ‘You were rude,’ said Ben. ‘It isn’t up to us to criticise.’

  ‘Well, she should have immediately said that they would rather not have their witnesses leave, shouldn’t she? Or at least ask someone.’

  ‘You could have been more polite about your reply,’ said Ben.

  ‘Oh, how?’ Libby stood still, hands on hips.

  Ben turned and looked her up and down. ‘Do you genuinely not know?’

  Libby lifted her chin. ‘No.’

  Ben regarded her solemnly for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘sometimes I really don’t like you.’ He turned and walked off down Maltby Close, hands in pockets.

  Libby felt as if she’d been punched in the solar plexus and the heart simultaneously. She felt colour seeping up her neck and into her face and took a deep, if shaky, breath.

  ‘’Ere, gal!’ Flo appeared at her door. ‘You all right?’

  Libby turned slowly and cleared her throat.

  ‘Yes, fine,’ she said, then remembered. ‘Flo, do you know if Una’s at home today?’

  ‘Bound to be, gal. Monday’s wash day, see?’

  ‘What? Even now?’

  ‘Things don’t change much at our age,’ said Flo. ‘Sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Yes, I said, I’m fine. I must get off now, I need to see Una.’

  Flo raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything else, and Libby hurried on down Maltby Close, her head still feeling like a badly balanced washing machine.

  What had happened? Why had Ben turned on her? Why now?’

  Because that’s what you’re like, whispered a voice in her head. You’re rude, nosy and you like your own way. And so far you’ve got away with it.

  She came to the end of Maltby Close and couldn’t see Ben anywhere. She hesitated, then decided to do what she’d said she would to Flo – go and see Una. She turned left and went towards Steeple Lane, glancing across the road to the Pink Geranium, closed today as it was Monday, and relieved to see no one in there. She couldn’t go in there for refuge today. Today she wasn’t lovable, scatty, nosy Libby, the version of herself she’d been accepting for over ten years now. Today, she was quite a different person.