Murder by the Sea - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘She’s been there all the time,’ said the staff nurse pulling a face. ‘Can’t get her to go home. His parents tried to persuade her, but she wouldn’t go.’

  ‘Do you think she would come out and see me?’ asked Libby. ‘Tell her it’s Libby.’

  A few minutes later Jane emerged from a room further down the corridor. Libby was shocked at her appearance.

  ‘My God, Jane. When did you last sleep?’ asked Libby, taking her hands and sitting her down on the bench.

  ‘I dozed by the bed last night,’ said Jane in an exhausted voice. ‘And the night before. I have to be here when he wakes up.’

  Hasn’t he woken up yet?’ Libby felt her heart sink.

  ‘Oh, yes, but only for a little while at a time.’ She brightened. ‘The doctors are very impressed with him.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Libby, thinking that Terry must be almost superhuman to have survived both attacks so well. ‘Has he damaged his ribs any further?’

  ‘I don’t know. Apparently they don’t X-ray ribs these days, but they have to be careful of fluid collecting in the lungs because people don’t cough with broken ribs.’

  Libby correctly interpreted this to mean it hurt too much to cough.

  ‘Does he remember what happened this time?’ she said. ‘Although the rest of you know, so I suppose it doesn’t matter that much.’

  ‘I haven’t asked him,’ said Jane. ‘I just can’t believe that all this has happened just after we got together.’

  ‘It was the body, really, wasn’t it?’ said Libby cheerfully. ‘If it wasn’t for that, you wouldn’t have met Fran and me.’

  ‘I suppose it was.’ Jane nodded. ‘Have the police made any more progress on that? I’d forgotten all about it.’

  ‘They know who it is,’ said Libby. She watched Jane’s tired face carefully. ‘Your Rosa lent her passport to Lena, his sister. Fran told you about that when you saw Rosa’s passport.’

  ‘It’s him?’ If possible, Jane’s face lost even more colour. ‘It’s Lena’s brother?’

  ‘You didn’t realise when Fran told you the story?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘His name was Andrei,’ said Libby gently, ‘but they still don’t know who killed him, or why.’

  ‘No.’ Jane’s voice was hardly above a whisper. Libby watched her for a moment.

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to take you home for a bit of rest?’ she asked. ‘You’re absolutely wrecked aren’t you?’

  ‘I’ve got my car,’ said Jane, rousing herself slightly, ‘but, no, I don’t want to go home.’

  ‘Well, how about coming back with me for an hour or so? The spare bed’s still made up.’

  Jane seemed to focus on her properly for the first time. ‘Yes … perhaps that would be better.’

  ‘Better?’ Libby frowned.

  Jane shook her head. ‘Closer. Sorry. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Libby. ‘Go on, get your coat, or your bag, or whatever and let the staff know where you’ll be.’

  ‘No need to do that,’ said Jane quickly. ‘They’ve got my mobile number. I’ll get my bag.’

  Still frowning, Libby watched her go back down the corridor and wondered if she was doing the right thing.

  By the time Libby had navigated out of Canterbury, Jane was asleep and Libby was left with her thoughts. She’d been right, Jane hadn’t known who the body on Dragon Island was, and now she did, it was obvious that she knew more than anyone had suspected about Rosa. Certainly more than she and Fran had suspected. She couldn’t wait to speak to Fran.

  As soon as they arrived at Allhallow’s Lane, Libby hustled Jane upstairs into the spare room and went back to put the kettle on. While she waited for it to boil, she called Fran.

  ‘I’ll be right over,’ said Fran. ‘Don’t let her get away.’

  ‘Get away? She’s not a criminal, you know!’ Libby poured water into a mug.

  ‘No,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  When Libby took up the tea she’d made, Jane was already out for the count in the spare bed. Libby smiled and pulled the curtains across the window. With a bit of luck she would sleep for at least a couple of hours.

  Fran arrived half an hour later, and Libby made more tea.

  ‘She knows,’ said Fran, accepting a mug.

  ‘Knows about Lena and Andrei, you mean?’ said Libby.

  Fran nodded. ‘When I told her about Rosa and Lena and the passport, I realised afterwards she said “lending it to her lover’s homeless, displaced sister just to help her”. I’d said nothing about a “lover”. She already knew.’

  ‘She’s a bloody good actress, then,’ said Libby. ‘She’s pulled the wool over all our eyes.’

  ‘But what does she know exactly?’ said Fran. ‘She appeared to be completely up front when she told us about the Rosa who worked in Pietro’s café and lived in a bedsit.’

  ‘But then when you told her about Rosa and Lena, it was obvious she knew about Andrei.’ Libby pursed her lips in thought. ‘And when I told her the body was Andrei, it shook her rigid.’

  ‘It was also after I’d shown her the passport and told her the story that she began to back off. Before then she’d been happy for us to investigate her aunt and Simon Madderling –’

  ‘And Peel House,’ cut in Libby. ‘Exactly. Why?’

  ‘You know what I think,’ said Fran after a moment. ‘I think she probably knew most of it. I think her aunt told her about whatever it was that had happened in the past and about Madderling, and I think she was hoping I could find where whatever it was was hidden.’

  ‘You mean she didn’t know that?’

  ‘It’s the only reason she would be happy for me to trail round looking for something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Or she knew nothing was there, so had nothing to fear.’

  Fran looked startled. ‘But if that was the case, why did I feel there was something there?’

  ‘Perhaps she didn’t know it was,’ suggested Libby. ‘Perhaps she didn’t really believe you could see things.’

  ‘I picked up enough to convince her, then, didn’t I? And do we really believe that a modern young woman, and a reporter at that, wouldn’t have done her own internet research on her aunt and the house to have found out about Madderling? That just didn’t ring true.’

  ‘I wondered about that at the time,’ said Libby. ‘Two old birds like us found it within hours. She owns the house. She must have seen the deeds.’

  ‘Of course!’ Fran slapped her forehead. ‘God, I’m dim. Of course she would have, and Simon’s name would have been there. So she knew all along about the Right Club and the fascist connection.’

  ‘And Aunt Jessica working for MI5.’

  ‘And we thought we were being so clever,’ said Fran. ‘So we come back to the question, why did she encourage us to go ferreting about?’

  ‘Not only that,’ said Libby, aggrieved, ‘all that guff about being lonely, and getting us on her side and Terry –’

  ‘Oh, I think that part of it’s true,’ said Fran. ‘I think she was genuinely lonely and shy. I also think that she met Rosa exactly as she told us, but Rosa probably told her the truth.’

  ‘Why?’ Libby wrinkled her brow. ‘Are we saying Rosa was sent to look for Jane? And then told her why?’

  ‘Perhaps Rosa didn’t realise how serious it all was. But she did make friends with Jane, and she did lie about where she lived – her whole lifestyle, in fact – so it looks as though she was looking for Jane. And she was going to come down here and stay, wasn’t she?’

  ‘And Jane seemed pleased about that,’ said Libby, ‘yet if Rosa had told her the truth about her lifestyle, say, before she had to leave the country …’ she trailed off. ‘I don’t understand any of this.’

  ‘And why is she suddenly scared to go back to Peel House?’ said Fran. ‘Yesterday, she wouldn’t come and stay with me, said she couldn’t leave Mrs Finch, which is
a bit mad.’

  ‘But she did go straight back to the hospital,’ said Libby, ‘and she stayed there all night.’

  ‘But she still would have gone back home at some point,’ said Fran. ‘It was only after you told her about Andrei that she didn’t want to go home.’

  ‘Do you know,’ said Libby, after a pause while they both thought about the situation, ‘right at the beginning, people were asking if Jane had something to do with it all. The body on the island, I mean. Harry did, didn’t he?’

  ‘And now it looks as though she did. But I think it must have gone wrong. Because Jane didn’t know who the body was.’

  ‘You mean it was deliberately left there so she would see it – or get to know about it, anyway?’

  ‘I think that’s what I mean.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘As a warning?’

  Libby frowned. ‘A warning about what?’

  ‘Well, what’s happened since, I suppose.’

  ‘Look out, we’re out to get you?’ Libby snorted.

  Fran cocked an eyebrow at her friend. ‘I did try and say that Peel House and the body were connected didn’t I? Perhaps my inner workings weren’t quite so off-beam as we thought.’

  Libby looked shame-faced. ‘As I thought, you mean.’

  ‘No, I thought the same. So did Guy. I just haven’t learnt how to manage it yet.’

  ‘What about your sea moment?’ said Libby suddenly. ‘What was that about?’

  ‘As I said before, I think that was where he was killed. On the boat. Then he was dumped.’

  ‘They must have been good sailors,’ mused Libby, ‘with all those rocks. And it was at night.’

  ‘But who were they?’ said Fran. ‘And where are they now? They’re obviously the ones who attacked Terry the first time and who broke in on Saturday.’

  ‘How about,’ said Libby, ‘and this is only a guess, mind, that Pietro? He went back to Italy, Jane said. Well, perhaps he didn’t.’

  ‘We’ve already considered him,’ said Fran.

  ‘Before we knew the full story,’ said Libby.

  ‘We don’t know the full story yet, Libby,’ said Fran. ‘All we’ve got is speculation, as usual. I have a feeling the worst is yet to come.’

  ‘And I have a feeling you’re right,’ said Jane.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  FRAN AND LIBBY GASPED simultaneously and turned to the door.

  Jane came into the room looking only slightly less rumpled and weary than she had an hour ago.

  ‘You should still be asleep,’ said Libby, when she’d found her voice. ‘What are you doing up?’

  ‘I woke up when I heard Fran arrive,’ said Jane, sitting on the chair by the table. ‘I decided I ought to listen to what you were saying.’

  Libby risked a glance at Fran, who was sitting staring rigidly ahead. She cleared her throat. ‘Er – would you like a fresh cup of tea?’ she asked. ‘You were asleep when I brought the first one up.’

  Jane nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

  Well, she didn’t look capable of attacking anyone, thought Libby, whatever she’d been concealing. She went into the kitchen, where the kettle was still simmering on the Rayburn and put a teabag into a mug. Her brain was almost in suspended animation, not knowing quite what to think or what to feel. Fran, it appeared, was in the same position.

  ‘So you heard what we were saying,’ Libby said, taking the bull by the horns. ‘And were we right?’

  Jane took a sip of her tea and nodded. ‘I didn’t think for a moment anyone would know what was going on,’ she said wearily, ‘and I didn’t really believe in Fran’s psychic ability at first.’

  ‘But she convinced you?’

  Jane nodded again. ‘And once you’d got on to Aunt Jess and Simon Madderling I got worried.’

  Fran seemed to come awake. ‘So you knew all about it?’

  ‘Aunt Jess told me years ago. Since I was a child she’d shown me pictures of Simon and told me about what they did in the war. She always said someone would come looking one day.’

  ‘Looking? For what?’ said Libby.

  ‘For some documents Simon had left with her. Only he hadn’t.’

  ‘He hadn’t?’ said Fran.

  ‘So she said. But then I met Rosa.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Rosa,’ said Fran.

  ‘What I told you was true,’ said Jane with a sigh. ‘Everything. But then she heard from Andrei that Lena had been arrested. And her family wanted her out of the way quickly. Apparently they were very angry at what she’d done. So she told me all about it.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Libby, when it appeared that Jane had fallen into a trance.

  ‘Her family had kept track of Aunt Jess ever since the war.’

  ‘The Italian visitors,’ said Fran, ‘that Mrs Finch told us about.’

  ‘Yes, them. They were supposed to be friends of Aunt Jess’s. And others, from a distance. She said they thought she would never do anything with these documents because they would ruin her reputation, let alone Simon’s.’

  ‘They didn’t know she and Simon were working for MI5?’ said Libby.

  ‘No, they thought Simon was a traitor.’ Jane made an attempt at a smile. ‘Funny, really, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Then what happened? The fifty year rule?’ asked Fran.

  ‘And they discovered what the real state of affairs was,’ said Libby.

  ‘So what did they do?’ asked Fran.

  ‘It wasn’t until about three years ago that they discovered all this,’ said Jane. ‘Then Aunt Jess went into a home and then she died. They found out that the house had been left to me. They tried to break into the house, but didn’t manage it, perhaps they didn’t realise there were tenants there. So Rosa was sent over to make friends with me.’

  Libby and Fran watched as Jane’s face crumpled. Fran got up and went over to her, putting an arm round her and leading her from the upright chair to the creaky sofa. Libby got up to make room for them and sat down in Fran’s abandoned armchair.

  ‘What happened next?’ asked Fran after a decent interval.

  ‘What I told you. She worked for Pietro and we became friends. Now I know why she didn’t ever invite me home, of course.’ Jane sniffed and sat upright. ‘Anyway, you know the rest. She told me everything and disappeared.’

  ‘Did you meet Andrei?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Once. Rosa gave him my mobile number and he rang me to tell me she’d gone back to Italy. I went to meet him in a bar in London. He said it was safer not to be near either of our places of work.’

  ‘Did he say why?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Her family were dangerous, he said.’ Jane sniffed again. ‘He was nice.’

  ‘Who were they? The family. We know Francini wasn’t her real name.’ said Libby.

  Jane shook her head. ‘I don’t know. And I don’t know why these documents are so important to them, either.’

  ‘Inspector Connell said he couldn’t see why anything would be so important after all this time,’ said Fran. ‘It’s over sixty years since the war ended. Anyone exposed now would either be dead or very old. Would it matter?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Libby. ‘There’ve been at least two fairly high profile cases with very old people being put on trial for war crimes. There was a woman in London and a bloke in Kent, I’m sure.’

  ‘So would Italy put someone on trial if they were exposed now? That’s presumably what they’re worried about,’ said Fran.

  ‘No idea,’ said Libby. ‘What do you think, Jane?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jane with a sigh. ‘And why would they murder poor Andrei? And was it a warning for me?’

  ‘Very clumsy if it was,’ said Fran. ‘You didn’t see it properly and were never told who it was. It took long enough for the police to find out.’

  ‘And that was only because of your suggestion,’ said Libby.

  ‘As for murdering Andrei, I suspect they thought he knew too much as he’d been Ro
sa’s lover,’ said Fran.

  ‘Don’t you think you ought to tell Inspector Connell everything you’ve told us?’ asked Libby.

  Jane looked frightened. ‘They’d find out,’ she said.

  ‘How?’ asked Fran.

  ‘I don’t know. But if I go home they’ll know where I am. If I talk to the police they’ll find out.’

  Libby and Fran looked at one another.

  ‘How about if I ask Ian – Inspector Connell – to come here to Libby’s house? You wouldn’t mind, would you, Lib?’

  ‘Of course not. That’s a really good idea,’ said Libby. ‘Don’t you think, Jane?’

  ‘He’ll be cross with me,’ said Jane, hanging her head. Fran let out a tut of exasperation.

  ‘Yes, I expect he will,’ she said, ‘but what choice do you have? Two of your tenants have already been attacked, your house has been broken into several times – what about old Mrs Finch if you won’t think of yourself?’

  ‘I was,’ she said. ‘That’s what I said yesterday, but when Libby told me about Andrei this morning –’ she let the sentence hang.

  ‘The police are the best people to deal with this sort of situation,’ said Fran decisively. ‘I’m going to phone Connell now.’ She got up and went to her bag. Jane just sat on the sofa looking scared.

  ‘Cheer up, Jane,’ said Libby. ‘Terry’s going to get better, the police can find out who’s been doing this and maybe,’ she paused as a thought struck her, ‘just maybe, they can find some other top secret information about Simon Madderling. Somewhere there must be a record of what he was doing and who his contacts were. Bingo!’

  She looked proudly at Fran and Jane. Fran shook her head before speaking into the phone. Jane looked puzzled. ‘But if there were records,’ she said, ‘why did Simon hide those documents in the first place. Or say he had.’

  ‘Because – oh, I don’t know.’ Libby frowned. ‘MI5 would have known about his contacts, though. He wouldn’t have wanted the Italians, or whoever they were, to know he was MI5.’

  ‘But why,’ said Fran, clicking off her phone, ‘did he say he’d hidden documents when he hadn’t?’

  ‘That’s what Aunt Jess said. She was never given anything to hide, or told where anything was. She thought it was all a bluff on Simon’s part to keep him alive.’