Murder Repeated

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘We’ve been expecting you,’ she said, ‘but I didn’t realise you were both coming.’

  ‘We thought it best,’ said Fran, neutrally.

  It didn’t take very long. When they’d both finished, Rachel sat back and looked them both curiously.

  ‘You do seem to have a way with you,’ she said. ‘How do you do it?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Find things out?’

  ‘A mixture of nosiness and contacts,’ said Fran.

  ‘Nothing to do with your – er – abilities?’

  Nothing at all,’ said Fran firmly. ‘We know Jane Baker at the Nethergate Mercury, and a lot of friends in the area.’

  ‘Like the local vicars,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Vicars hear a lot of what goes on,’ said Libby.

  Rachel nodded. ‘The one here knew Ossie Whitelaw.’

  ‘The Reverend Cole,’ said Fran. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So what are you going to do next?’ asked Rachel.

  They both looked surprised.

  ‘Next?’ said Libby.

  ‘I just wondered if you were going to find anything else out for us.’

  ‘We wouldn’t dare,’ said Libby. ‘Your DCI would be most unhappy.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Rachel, with a sly smile.

  ‘But,’ said Libby, as they left the church hall, ‘what are we going to do next?’

  Fran looked at her watch. ‘Lunch time. Let’s go and see Hal.’

  There were already lunchtime customers in the Pink Geranium, and Libby was surprised to see Donna standing behind the counter.

  ‘What have you done with the baby?’ she asked.

  ‘Not exactly a baby any more,’ said Donna, ‘but she’s at playgroup, here in the village.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Fran in surprise. ‘Have you moved already?’

  ‘No, but I had to take the place while it was available. We’re acclimatising.’ She beamed. ‘I love it here. Are you eating?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Libby. ‘Just soup and bread for me.’

  ‘And me,’ said Fran. ‘Where can we sit?’

  ‘Window table,’ said Donna. ‘I expect Harry will join you when he can.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Libby, when they were seated, ‘That reminds me. I said to Ian last night they weren’t investigating Ossie’s death anymore, but he said they were. Which of course, they would be, it’s just got a bit sidelined, I suppose.’

  ‘They’ll be trying to tie the two murders together,’ said Fran. ‘I’m glad it’s not me.’

  Donna arrived with two bowls of soup and a basket of fresh bread on a tray.

  ‘Oh, I meant to tell you,’ she said. ‘Yesterday I popped in to introduce myself to that friend of yours.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ said Libby. ‘She’s not exactly a friend – just an acquaintance.’

  ‘Well we’ve met. Actually, it was a bit awkward, so I said I’d come back another time.’

  ‘Awkward? How?’ asked Fran.

  ‘She had someone with her. Looked a bit like that black detective on the TV.’

  ‘Not our friend Edward?’

  ‘Oh, no. Not as nice-looking. No, apparently he used to live in her house.’

  ‘Whitelaw!’ gasped Libby.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  ‘But I thought she told you she didn’t know him?’ said Fran.

  ‘She did.’ Libby frowned. ‘I suppose he could have come down to see her because she found the body. Would make sense, wouldn’t it?’

  Donna looked from one to the other. ‘Is this to do with your murders?’

  ‘Um, sort of,’ said Libby. ‘If it is Mr Whitelaw, he’s the father of the first body, the one Fiona Darling found at the Garden Hotel.’

  ‘Oh, well, there’s no mystery, is there?’ said Donna. ‘He’d naturally want to find out all he could.’

  ‘About what?’ Harry came up to the table.

  Donna told him, and took herself off.

  ‘And naturally, you two think there is a mystery.’ Harry sat down.

  ‘Well, no. It’s like Donna said,’ said Libby.

  ‘Exactly. No need to rush off to the police with it.’

  ‘No.’ Fran took a mouthful of soup. ‘Nice. What is it?’ Harry shook his head at her. ‘Fancy not recognising vegetable soup.’

  ‘It’s just different,’ said Fran.

  ‘OK – fill me in with all the goss.’ Harry sat back in his chair. ‘I hear you’ve been up to your tricks again.’

  ‘We were only trying to look into things,’ said Libby.

  ‘Surprise, surprise. So what did you find out?’

  Once more, they repeated the events of yesterday between them.

  ‘And the police know all this?’

  ‘We’ve done an official report,’ said Libby. ‘And been warned off Sir Nigel Preece.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Harry. ‘A nasty piece of work, so I’ve heard.’

  ‘Yes.’ Fran nodded. ‘All the same, I don’t see how he could have killed the singer and got her body here.’

  ‘Got someone else to do it?’ suggested Harry.

  ‘Maybe. It’s all very confused,’ said Libby. ‘We’ve no way of knowing who he knew well enough. We don’t know anyone who was at that party except Colin, John, and Emma.’

  ‘We’re just going over old ground,’ said Fran. ‘Much as I hate to say it, I think we ought to give it a rest.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Harry. ‘It’s a complicated case and the police have many more resources than you have.’

  They finished their lunch, said goodbye to Donna, and walked slowly back to Allhallow’s Lane, where Fran had left her car. As they passed the vicarage, Beth appeared at the door.

  ‘Hey! Guess who came to see me yesterday?’

  Fran and Libby stopped.

  ‘Ossie’s dad?’ said Libby.

  ‘Yes! How did you know?’

  ‘Lucky guess!’ said Fran.

  ‘Got a minute? I’ll tell you all about it.’

  They followed Beth into her kitchen and sat down at the table.

  ‘We guessed because he also went to see Fiona Darling,’ said Libby. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He wanted to know what I’d told the police.’ Beth frowned. ‘I thought he would want to know how well I knew Ossie and what I thought of him, but he only asked what Ossie had told me, and if I’d told everything to the police.’

  ‘You couldn’t very well tell him Ossie felt his dad didn’t understand him,’ said Fran.

  ‘No, I rather glossed over it. I told him I liked Ossie. I also told him the school hadn’t been right for him.’

  ‘Oh, I bet he didn’t like that!’ Libby said.

  ‘No, he did poker up a bit at that. But I couldn’t tell him anything else. He just said he wanted to find out as much as he could and would talk to someone else.’

  ‘That would be Fiona,’ said Fran. ‘I wonder why he didn’t go to her first?’

  ‘Perhaps she was out. But he did go and see her. Not that she could tell him any more – even less, probably.’ Libby was puzzled. ‘Unless there was some other connection.’

  ‘Ted Sachs,’ said Fran. ‘He did work for the Whitelaws, didn’t he? They recommended him to the Darlings.’

  ‘I do wish he wouldn’t keep cropping up,’ said Libby testily. ‘He’s too tempting.’

  ‘Tempting? What do you mean?’ asked Beth.

  ‘As a villain,’ explained Libby. ‘See – he gave Fiona the keys. He’d been asked by Colin to do the renovations to the Garden. He turns out to have been at the party where the girl singer disappeared – who turned out to be the other body.’

  ‘But it’s all quite logical,’ said Fran. ‘He lived in Felling, where Emma lived, and was one of the crowd at the party. It looks as though half the young people in the town were there. Then, he worked for a builder in the town who did some work for John and Emma, so when Colin asked John if he could recommend someone to do the w
ork, John recommended Ted, who had recently set up on his own. He’d already done work for the Whitelaws, who recommended him to the Darlings. Then he got a bit too close to Fiona and there you are!’

  ‘It does seem logical,’ said Beth. ‘And you know what it’s like in a village – or a small area – you could probably trace connections with dozens of people one way or another.’

  Libby sighed. ‘I guess you’re right. I’m making bricks without straw, as usual.’

  ‘Did you know the origin of that saying?’ said Beth. ‘Apropos of nothing.’

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Libby. ‘The bible, I suppose.’

  ‘Actually, yes! Exodus 5 – Pharaoh telling the Israelites off. Tells them to go and gather the straw themselves.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s we should do,’ said Fran. ‘Tell the police to gather their own straw.’

  ‘I think they already do,’ said Libby. ‘With no help from us.’

  They left Beth and carried on down the lane. As they reached the door of number seventeen, Mrs Mardle put her head round her door.

  ‘Have you heard from Colin today, dear?’ she said. ‘I don’t like to bother him.’

  Libby smiled. ‘I’ll try him now. I’d like to make sure he’s all right, too.’

  This time, she got through.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get your calls yesterday,’ he said in a subdued voice.

  ‘It’s all right, Ian explained. But Mrs Mardle and I both wanted to know if you were all right.’

  ‘Yes.’ Colin didn’t sound sure.

  ‘Do you want to talk?’

  ‘Are you at home?’

  ‘Yes. Fran’s here, too. Come round. I’ll make tea.’

  She switched off the phone. ‘He’s fine,’ she told Mrs Mardle. ‘He’s coming round for a cup of tea. Would you -?’

  ‘No, that’s all right, dear. Just ask him to give me a knock on the way past. Thank you.’ She withdrew and closed the door.

  ‘You will stay?’ Libby said to Fran as she opened the door.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Fran sighed. ‘Seems we can’t give it a rest after all.’

  Colin arrived just as Libby was filling the brown teapot.

  ‘Do you know what’s happened?’ he asked, slumping in to the armchair. Fran sat beside Libby on the sofa.

  ‘We know the police had you in for questioning and took your phone from you,’ said Libby. ‘Ian told me last night and said you were back at the pub. Fran and I had to go to incident room this morning to make a report.’

  ‘What about? Me?’

  ‘No. About what we were doing in Felling yesterday.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’ Fran smiled. ‘And it turned out you’d given the police almost the same information we had.’

  ‘Oh?’ Colin accepted a large mug of tea. ‘Do you mind telling me...’

  So they did.

  ‘That was me,’ said Colin miserably, when they reached the part about the singer making a play for an unnamed guest.

  ‘We thought it must be,’ said Fran. ‘Was she – unpleasant?’

  Colin winced. ‘Very.’

  ‘Just her?’ asked Libby gently.

  ‘How did you guess?’ Colin tried a shaky smile.

  ‘Something Fed Barrett said. About gay baiting.’

  Yes.’ Colin sighed. ‘Her, and a group of the boys – men. Trying to force me to – to – well -’

  ‘No need to explain,’ said Fran. ‘But they left you alone in the end?’

  ‘Only because one of them told the others to clear off, and then tried it on me himself.’ He shuddered.

  ‘Did you tell the police all this?’

  ‘Yes. I think they thought it gave me even more of a motive.’

  ‘Did you have any names?’ asked Fran.

  Colin shook his head. ‘I only knew John. I didn’t even really know Emma, then.’

  ‘John said Ted Sachs was there. Didn’t you recognise him the other day when you met him?’ said Libby.

  ‘No, but I don’t suppose I would. It was twenty years ago and we were all much younger. We’re middle-aged now.’

  ‘Golly, what does that make us?’ muttered Libby.

  ‘What about Sir Nigel?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Sir Nigel?’ Colin frowned. ‘Sir Nigel Preece? What’s he got to do with it?’

  They didn’t tell him, thought Libby. To try and trip him up?

  ‘We think he might have been at the party,’ she said non-committally.

  ‘Wasn’t he a local MP at one time?’ said Colin.

  ‘Until he got the sack,’ said Fran.

  ‘I wouldn’t have known who he was, anyway.’ Colin finished his tea. ‘What else did you find out?’

  Libby told him about the couple who had met Shareen on the Bishop’s Bottom Road.

  ‘And that Emma was jealous of Shareen,’ said Fran. Libby scowled at her, but Colin gave a short laugh.

  ‘Yes, that was very obvious! Whenever she was in our vicinity, you should have seen Emma’s face! I don’t know why she was worried, John was obviously besotted with her. Emma, I mean.’

  ‘Because Emma was a singer too,’ said Libby.

  ‘Was she? I didn’t know that!’

  ‘They both sang in pubs, and Shareen was picked up for the TV and Emma wasn’t.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  So that was it, was it?’ asked Fran. ‘You kept out of the way after... after...’

  ‘Yes. I went outside, and eventually got hold of John and asked if we could go. He didn’t want to, because of Emma, but I said he could always go back – oh!’

  The three of them looked at each other in shock.

  ‘But I’m sure he didn’t,’ said Colin. ‘Anyway, if he had, he would have gone straight to Emma, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘And,’ said Libby slowly, ‘I don’t think the timing fits. What time did he drop you home?’

  ‘Early, as far as parties go. Somewhere between eleven and half past, I think.’

  ‘So if he’d gone back he wouldn’t have got there until just before twelve?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Oh.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘I suppose he would have had time, if she didn’t leave until then...’

  ‘John wouldn’t have killed anyone!’

  Libby and Fran didn’t say they’d heard that before, but they both thought it.

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t,’ said Libby in a robust voice, ‘and I’m sure you didn’t either. But was the – let’s say attack – on you the reason you left the area?’

  Colin looked uncomfortable, but nodded. ‘It was vicious. The things they said. And did. I decided that if that was what people were like in the sticks, I was going. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Fran, amused. ‘We are a bit out in the sticks. Certainly Felling is. And things are a bit better these days.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Colin smiled. ‘I never gave Steeple Martin a real chance, did I?’

  ‘Well, you can now,’ said Libby. ‘Was that all you told them?’

  ‘There wasn’t any more to tell.’ He sighed. ‘They just said not to leave the area.’

  ‘Oh, that’s standard,’ said Libby blithely. ‘Don’t worry about it. Oh, and Mrs Mardle said would you give her a knock on your way past, just to let her know you’re all right.’

  ‘OK.’ Colin stood up. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time. Will you let me know if you hear anything else?’

  Libby let him out and came back to the sofa.

  ‘You know, I’m sure he didn’t do it,’ she said.

  Fran nodded. ‘But who on earth did?’

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  After Fran had gone, Libby decided to do some research on Sir Nigel Preece. She was very vague about the details of his life and career, and thought it might bear looking into. Although, she acknowledged to herself, the police would know all about it, and what bearing it had on the case she had no idea.

 
The internet threw up many pages of information, through which she dutifully ploughed, but apart from some would-be sensational headlines in the news from several years ago, learnt very little. He was unmarried, had stood for parliament and been selected, and following a much publicised affair with a married celebrity, had resigned, not, as rumour would have it, been sacked. After all, thought Libby, MPs had survived that sort of thing many times before. Some of his public comments were in very dubious taste, and revealed a distinctly elitist, arrogant, and patronising turn of mind. Libby suspected him of being both homophobic and racist, and decided he typified the public perception of the privileged upper classes.

  She found few mentions of Felling, mostly concerning his father, Sir Reginald Preece, the heir to the family fortune, which stemmed from an engineering Preece in the nineteenth century, who had built Hawley House, named, apparently for his wife’s family, the influential Hawleys, who appeared to have a finger in every local pie imaginable.

  Fascinating though all this was, she resisted falling down the rabbit hole of internet research, and turned instead to Ted Sachs, who appeared to have nothing more than a very basic web page advertising his building services. Hardcastle Holdings, however, had a professional and bland website which gave very little away. Libby wondered about Colin’s assistant – what had John said her name was? Carina? Colin had never mentioned her, which was odd, come to think of it.

  She checked her watch to see if Fran would have had time to get back to Nethergate, decided she had, and called.

  ‘I’ve only just left you! What’s the matter?’

  ‘I was just doing some internet research,’ said Libby. ‘Mainly on Nigel Preece.’ She gave Fran the details. ‘Then I looked up Ted Sachs – nothing – and finally Hardcastle Holdings. And it struck me – why hasn’t Colin been in touch with them since he’s been here? And he’s never mentioned his assistant. I told you about her, didn’t I? John Newman said she was called Carina.’

  ‘No reason he should mention her,’ said Fran. ‘And we don’t know he hasn’t been in touch. He doesn’t have to tell us who he’s called when he isn’t with us. He could be giving them hourly updates for all we know.’