Murder by the Sea - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Ben and Pete are coming in,’ he told her, polishing glasses on his apron. ‘Lunch trade was pretty non-existent, so I sent Donna off. She’s off tonight anyway, so she might as well have a nice long afternoon.’

  Libby sat down at the table in the window and reached behind her to pull down the blind.

  ‘Is this a council of war, or just a warn Libby to stop ferreting party?’ she asked.

  ‘Just a get-together.’ Harry brought a bottle of wine and the glasses over to the table. ‘The old gang. Also, I think there’s something Pete wants to talk to us about.’

  ‘That sounds alarming,’ said Libby, accepting her wine.

  When Peter arrived, Libby was surprised to see him followed closely by Lenny, Hetty’s brother, and his partner Flo Carpenter, with Ben bringing up the rear.

  ‘Me, it was actually,’ said Lenny, when they were all settled round the table, and Peter had supplemented the wine with some from his own stock. ‘My idea.’ He looked proudly round the table.

  ‘What was?’ asked Libby, when nothing else seemed forthcoming.

  ‘The party.’ He raised a triumphant glass. ‘For Het.’

  Ben smiled. ‘Birthday party.’

  ‘Blimey,’ said Harry.

  ‘Golly,’ said Libby.

  ‘She’ll kick up,’ said Peter.

  Ben nodded. ‘That’s why Lenny’s going to do it,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Libby. ‘Won’t she like it?’

  ‘You know my mum,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t hold with no fuss.’

  ‘But she always does the tenants’ party,’ said Libby, ‘and she loves having loads of us to entertain.’

  ‘That’s different, gal,’ said Flo. ‘It’s not for her, is it. She feeds us all, looks after old Greg, loves it. Not when it’s her, though.’

  ‘So how did this come about?’ asked Harry, tipping back on his chair until Peter told him off.

  ‘I arst Len what we was doin’, and he arst Ben,’ said Flo.

  ‘And he says she don’t want no party. So I says, that’s what she thinks.’ He beamed round the table. ‘And I says to young Pete, what about the theatre? Then we could do it for a surprise, like.’

  ‘And I says yes,’ said Peter, ‘but I still say she’ll kick up.’

  ‘No, she won’t,’ said Ben. ‘She’ll be thrilled to bits. Nobody ever does anything for my mum, and she’s had a lot to put up with over the last eighteen months.’

  Everyone looked solemn and sipped their drinks in silence.

  ‘So when is it?’ asked Libby, after a decent interval.

  ‘Saturday week,’ said Ben. ‘Not much notice, I know, but Lenny’s only just thought of it. I asked mum ages ago, and she said I could take her and Greg to the pub for a meal.’

  ‘Not The Pink Geranium?’ said Libby, laughing. ‘How dare she!’

  ‘Doesn’t like veggie food,’ said Harry.

  ‘Bet you’re doing the food, though,’ grinned Libby.

  ‘If I’m arst,’ he said, looking down his nose.

  ‘I thought,’ said Peter, ‘we could do up the stage like a marquee.’

  ‘What, with chairs and tables?’ Libby was alarmed. ‘There won’t be much room.’

  ‘A couple of tables with a few chairs and a long table at the back with the food and booze. People can go and sit in the auditorium.’

  ‘We’ll get food all over the seats.’ Libby wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Don’t be a kill joy,’ said Peter. ‘If we don’t mind, why should you?’

  ‘Oh, OK.’ Libby finished her wine. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Think of some entertainment,’ said Flo. ‘You know, songs, an’ that.’

  ‘Ooo!’ A smile spread across Libby’s face. ‘Yes!’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Harry.

  ‘Shut up.’ Libby gave him a poke. ‘A piano. That’s what we need. Well, we’ve got a piano, haven’t we? What we need is a pianist.’

  ‘Piano?’ Puzzled looks were exchanged, but Flo and Lenny looked delighted.

  ‘That’s it, gel,’ said Lenny. ‘You ’it the nail on the ’ead!’

  ‘A joanna! A pianna player,’ said Libby. ‘Real pub piano, with all the old songs.’

  ‘War-time songs,’ said Flo, ‘like we used to sing down hoppin.’

  ‘We could do a proper set, too,’ said Libby, warming to her theme. ‘An old pub.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ Ben slapped her on the back and made her splutter. ‘Fantastic idea. I could get on to the brewers –’

  ‘I’ll download lyrics,’ said Peter. ‘We can have song sheets for those who are too young to remember.’

  ‘’Ave you got that old hoppers’ hut you had for that play?’ asked Lenny.

  ‘No, that’s all broken up, now,’ said Ben, ‘and anyway, I don’t think Mum would be too pleased with that, one way and another.’

  Lenny looked crestfallen. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Spose yer right.’

  ‘We’ll stick with the pub,’ said Peter. ‘Now, Lib, all you’ve got to do is find your proper pianna player.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Libby.

  Chapter Seventeen

  LIFE FOR BOTH LIBBY and Fran slipped slowly back into routine. Libby called everybody in her phone book trying to locate a suitable pianist and came up with no one. By the end of the week, she was panicking.

  They had both visited Jane a couple of times to keep her spirits up, as Terry was still in hospital. Libby was smug about her role in bringing them together, but Fran pointed out that living in the same house they probably would have done anyway.

  ‘What, like you and Guy?’ scoffed Libby. ‘I know you said you would have got the cottage regardless of me and therefore met Guy, but you didn’t even know it was there, did you?’

  ‘I’d have worked it out,’ said Fran, looking grumpy. ‘And you don’t know that Terry and Jane have got it together, do you?’

  ‘Well, look at how this has affected her. I’d say it was a safe bet.’ Libby grinned and jabbed Fran in the shoulder. ‘I’m going to set up as a dating agency. Just call me Dolly.’

  Saturday morning saw a meeting at the theatre to discuss progress on the party so far. The “pub” set was coming on nicely under the aegis of Ben, with considerable input from Lenny and Flo, Harry had decided on bangers and mash as being appropriate food, with a quantity of vegetarian sausages for those who wanted them.

  ‘Then it isn’t too complicated,’ he told Libby. ‘We can’t have authentic deserts as what there were during the war and just after were horrible, so it’s jelly and ice cream as a suitably nostalgic substitute, and a big birthday cake.’

  ‘So what about the pianist?’ asked Peter, as they all admired the piano decked in red white and blue bunting.

  ‘I can’t find one,’ muttered Libby.

  ‘Oh, hell,’ said Ben.

  ‘If anyone takes up the piano these days it’s classical or Elton John,’ Libby said. ‘No one knows the old stuff. Why would they?’

  ‘But they could read the music, surely?’ said Peter.

  ‘I’m not sure I could afford to download about a hundred songs,’ said Libby, ‘and there would be bound to be at least a dozen you’d forget.’

  ‘I thought you could download songs free from the internet?’ said Harry.

  ‘Lyrics, yes, but not music.’ Ben sat down on one of the benches. ‘I don’t know why, but I thought it would be easy.’

  ‘I wonder if any of the other drama societies could come up with a pianist? They’d be the best bet,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.’

  ‘Have you got any contacts with other societies?’ asked Peter.

  ‘I can try,’ said Libby, ‘but it will have to wait until I get home and get my phone book.’

  But the next call on her mobile put pianists right out of Libby’s head.

  ‘It’s Jane,’ said a breathless voice as Libby was walking back down The Manor Drive.

  ‘Hello, Jane,’
said Libby. ‘How’s Terry?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing, Libby. He’s coming home.’

  ‘Blimey, that was quick,’ said Libby. ‘I thought head injuries were kept in for much longer than that.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, I wasn’t told everything. His parents came down and the doctors talked to them.’

  ‘Were they nice?’

  ‘The parents?’ Jane hesitated. ‘Oh, yes. Very grateful, you know.’

  ‘So did you want to ask me something?’

  ‘Well, yes. This is a bit awkward.’

  Libby stopped walking and waited. ‘Well, go on, then,’ she said. ‘What’s awkward and what do you want me to do?’

  ‘I wondered if you were doing anything later on this afternoon?’

  ‘Nothing I can’t put off,’ said Libby.

  ‘Only, you see, Terry’s coming home in an ambulance, and I said I’d be there to, er, look after him.’

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Libby. ‘Why do you need me?’

  ‘Because of Mike.’

  ‘Mike?’

  ‘Charteris. My new tenant.’

  ‘Oh?’ Libby’s ears pricked up.

  ‘You see, he’s been coming up to see me all week and he said he’d help me with Terry today.’

  ‘Ah.’ Libby smiled to herself. ‘I see. So you want me to come along so you can say, no thanks I’ve already got help?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Libby heard Jane’s sigh of relief. ‘You seemed the right person to ask.’

  ‘OK.’ Libby made a fast decision. ‘What time do you want me?’

  ‘Whenever you can come. I don’t know what time Terry will get here.’

  Interpreting this to mean “come as soon as you can”, Libby said, ‘When I’ve had some lunch I’ll be on my way.’

  She called Ben as she continued her walk home, telling him she would be back that evening as soon as she could. As they had no plans to do anything other than watch television and perhaps pop out to the pub for last orders, this wasn’t a problem.

  Ali at the eight-til-late had started making fresh sandwiches, and Libby called in on her way past to pick up a ham and mustard on brown. When she’d eaten this, washed down with a glass of water, she cleaned her teeth, dragged a brush through her hair and left the cottage.

  On the way to Nethergate, she pondered the situation. Fran, who had seen Mike Charteris, reported that he was slightly older than Terry, but good-looking nonetheless. A good-looking, single (presumably) man exhibiting concern for his young attractive landlady was not notably peculiar, but if the landlady had already fallen for one of her other tenants who was temporarily incapacitated, it would undoubtedly be unwelcome, unless, of course, the landlady had femme fatale leanings. Which, obviously, Jane didn’t.

  It being Saturday in high season, Libby eventually had to park in the car park at the end of The Tops rather than in the street outside Jane’s house. By the time she rang the door bell, she was hot and sticky.

  ‘Lead me to a glass of water,’ she said as Jane opened the door.

  ‘Sorry, Libby.’ Jane shut the door. ‘Did you have to park miles away?’

  ‘Far enough,’ said Libby. ‘Now I just want to get to the top of these stairs and sit down.’

  ‘It’s really kind of you,’ said Jane, after she’d supplied the required glass of water. ‘Only Mike kept coming up to see if I was all right, or if I’d heard any more from the hospital, and – oh, I don’t know – it made me a bit uncomfortable.’

  ‘And he wanted to be here to help today.’

  ‘Yes.’ Jane nodded. ‘I know he’s only trying to be helpful, but I don’t know him, and –’ she broke off.

  ‘And?’ prompted Libby, after a moment.

  ‘I can’t explain it.’ Jane looked down at her hands. ‘He seemed to keep trying to get into the flat. It frightened me a bit.’

  Libby suppressed a smile. ‘You are an attractive young woman, Jane.’

  Colour crept up Jane’s neck. ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ she said, clearing her throat, ‘but it didn’t quite seem like that, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Do you mean he was threatening?’

  ‘No.’ Jane shook her head. ‘I can’t put my finger on it. Perhaps I’m just not very good with men.’

  ‘Except Terry,’ said Libby naughtily.

  ‘Well, I’ve known him a lot longer,’ said Jane, her colour now rising to her hairline.

  ‘But only just got to know him properly,’ said Libby.

  ‘Yes.’ Jane looked up. ‘Thanks to you, actually, Libby.’

  One in the eye for Fran, thought Libby triumphantly.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you would have – um – got together eventually,’ she said aloud.

  ‘Well, I’m really glad you asked him to come up and help. Not,’ she added hastily, ‘that things have gone very far, but we’ve had a couple of meals and been out for a drink.’ She smiled. ‘It’s been lovely.’

  ‘And then this has to happen,’ said Libby.

  Jane’s face fell. ‘I know. And I still can’t understand it.’

  ‘Did you ever find out whether they took his wallet?’

  ‘Oh, yes, apparently, and his cash and keys. That’s why I had to leave the police my pass key that first night.’

  ‘Right,’ said Libby. ‘And no witnesses?’

  ‘No. Mike didn’t see anybody as he came along the road, but it must have only just happened, because Mrs Finch had brought her bin round to the front door only minutes before.’

  ‘Oh, of course, Tuesday was collection day. So this bloke took a real chance, then?’

  ‘No more than normal, I suppose.’ Jane shrugged. ‘The muggings I report on could have been seen by any number of people. They’re just chancers.’

  ‘And Terry was just coming in, too, you thought, because all his lights were off.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then it’s odd that Mrs Finch didn’t see him, too.’

  ‘If she didn’t see the mugger, why would she have seen Terry?’

  ‘True. But the other funny thing is, if Mike was walking home, presumably from the direction of the town, why didn’t he see them ahead of him?’

  ‘The mugger must have gone, and he wouldn’t have seen Terry until he got right up to the steps, would he?’

  ‘No.’ Libby shook her head regretfully.

  ‘What are you getting at, Libby?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Libby stood up and went to look out of the window, just as Jane’s front door bell rang.

  ‘Is it the ambulance?’ Jane sprang up from her chair.

  ‘No, I can’t see who it is,’ said Libby craning her neck.

  ‘Oh, God, it’ll be Mike again.’ Jane’s shoulders drooped.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Libby briskly and started out of the door before Jane could stop her, hoping it was Mike, and not some perfectly innocent visitor.

  Just outside the door of Jane’s flat, stood a good-looking man with greying dark hair.

  ‘Oh!’ he said, looking surprised.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Libby with a quizzical look. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I just came to ask if Jane was all right. I believe Terry’s coming home today. I’m one of the tenants.’ His voice was deep, with a hint of a London accent.

  ‘Yes, she’s fine, thank you,’ said Libby. ‘I’m here to help with Terry. But thank you for offering.’

  ‘Are you Jane’s mother?’ He peered at her.

  Libby suppressed indignation and simply smiled. ‘No, I’m a friend,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’ And, still smiling, she gently closed the door.

  ‘Thanks, Libby,’ said Jane, when Libby returned to the sitting room. ‘Did he seem angry?’

  ‘Angry?’ Libby raised her eyebrows. ‘No. Why on earth should he have been?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Jane shook her head again. ‘That’s part of the feeling I always get. That he’s angry that I don’t let him in.’

  ‘Just a
determined suitor,’ said Libby, although she privately wondered if Jane would be safe alone after she’d gone. Silly, she apostrophized herself. Jane had been alone here all week, except for Mrs Finch in the basement. ‘What else do you know about him? The agents checked his references, didn’t they?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He’s staying down here doing some sort of contract work. He has a flat in London, but didn’t want to commute. He’ll only be here for a few weeks, but I thought, you know –’

  ‘A bird in the hand,’ Libby finished for her.

  ‘Exactly. And the agents are trying to find me a permanent tenant. Unless –’ she broke off again.

  ‘Unless what?’

  ‘I sell the house.’

  Libby was surprised. She hadn’t expected that.

  ‘Why would you want to sell it?’

  ‘If things don’t work out for me in Nethergate I’d be silly to stay here. I wouldn’t get much for the house with sitting tenants, but it would be enough for a reasonable deposit for a flat back in London.’

  ‘When you say, work out for you in Nethergate, what do you mean?’

  ‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘as I told you, I haven’t exactly made many friends here, have I? And the job really hasn’t got any prospects of promotion. So if things stay as they are, there isn’t much to keep me.’

  ‘What about Terry?’

  Jane’s colour returned in a rush. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

  As Libby heard a vehicle drawing up outside, Jane was saved the embarrassment of continuing the conversation. The door bell rang, and the next twenty minutes were taken up with getting Terry into his flat, after which Libby tactfully left while Jane fussed around him, and once more managed to divert Mike Charteris from his obvious intention to help.

  Chapter Eighteen

  TERRY WAS PERSUADED TO eat the fish and chips Libby fetched for them all, and perked up enough for her to feel comfortable about asking a few questions.

  ‘I don’t know much,’ he said, prodding a chip into a puddle of tomato sauce.

  ‘You didn’t see anyone, obviously?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He frowned underneath the bandages. ‘I can’t remember anything except walking up the road towards the house. The doc said that was normal.’