‘Actually –’ Carol stood up. ‘I wonder if you’d do me a huge favour? I know you didn’t know Sally, but would you take the key to this house? If the police want to see over it or anything, it would be easier to get the key from you.’
‘Of course,’ said Libby. ‘We don’t mind, do we Fran?’
Chapter Seventeen
‘I don’t think I fancy eating at the Ashton Arms now,’ said Libby, as they walked back to their cars.
‘Nor do I. Shall we go home, or do you want to go somewhere else?’ said Fran.
‘George,’ they said together.
Fran led the way to The Red Lion in Heronsbourne, where they parked in Pedlar’s Row.
The bar was almost empty, and George was, as he often was, found at the bar reading a newspaper.
‘Ladies!’ he said as they came in. ‘Pleasure to see you.’
Libby hoisted herself on to a bar stool. ‘Nice to see you, too, George. How’s the posh coffee machine?’
‘Doing well, thanks, Libby. Coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘I’ll have one, too,’ said Fran, ‘and have you got anything on for lunch?’
‘My missus’s meat pies. How does that sound?’
‘Brilliant. I’ll have one of those, thank you.’
‘So – you off investigating again?’ asked George as he served coffee.
‘Now, why would you think that?’ said Fran with a smile.
‘Because you usually are. Especially if you come over here.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Libby. ‘And yes – in a way.’
‘Not really,’ said Fran. ‘There were two murders while we were on holiday, and someone connected with one of them lives near here. We’ve just paid a courtesy visit.’
‘Murders on holiday, eh?’ George shook his head. ‘Can’t trust you anywhere, can we? Nobody’d believe it if you put it on telly.’
‘Not sure I believe it myself,’ said Libby.
‘So where does this person live? Here in Heronsbourne?’
‘No, actually, she used to live in Cherry Ashton. Doesn’t any more, though.’ Libby sipped coffee and licked froth off her upper lip.
‘So why was you over there, then?’
‘Her mother came down to collect things.’ Fran also sipped coffee, although more delicately.
‘Ah.’ George surveyed them both shrewdly. ‘Wouldn’t be nothing to do that White Lodge business?’
‘No,’ said Fran firmly. ‘This was a young woman who used to live there and moved to Turkey.’
‘Ah,’ said George again, looking disappointed. ‘What happened to the White Lodge then? And that there barn?’
‘It was put up for sale,’ said Libby, ‘but as far as we know, it hasn’t sold. The only people interested were a development company, and the Lodge and the barn are both listed, so you can’t pull them down.’
‘Best thing to happen to them, in my view,’ said George. ‘Nothing but unhappiness in them buildings.’
‘Well, not our business,’ said Fran. ‘We just came in for lunch.’
‘Point taken,’ said George cheerfully. ‘I’ll go and see how them pies are coming on.’
‘Did we put him off enough?’ Libby asked, when they were settled at a table.
‘I think so,’ said Fran. ‘Not that it really matters, but I suppose the police would want as little gossip as possible.’
‘I wonder who it was Justin was coming to see? Or even if he was coming to see someone. We don’t even know that.’
‘Well, someone knew he was in the country, unless it really was some kind of mugging. I think both Ian and Smith are going to keep an eye on us because we could lead them to possible suspects.’
‘But what possible suspects? We only knew the people who were staying in the hotel, and they didn’t know Alec or Sally.’
‘Yes, they did. It was Greta who told us about Sally.’
‘They didn’t know Alec, though.’
‘They all said they didn’t. Suppose they did?’
‘Betty and Walter didn’t, I’m sure of it,’ said Libby. ‘And Walter didn’t move enough to murder anyone.’
‘We haven’t heard back from any of them, have we?’ said Fran. ‘do you think the police will have been in touch with them?’
‘I expect so.’
‘Even though Alec had no connection with Jimmy’s hotel?’
‘But it was a visitor to the hotel who first identified his body, and we were on the boat that found him. That’s enough of a connection in the minds of the police.’ Libby looked up as George brought over their steaming pies.
‘Missus says hello.’ he said, placing their plates carefully in front of them. ‘Tuck in.’
‘Well,’ said Fran, when he’d gone, ‘we’d better let Ian know about Carol, whatever happens. Now I’m going to concentrate on this pie. God bless my waistline.’
To Libby’s surprise, when she arrived home there were three emails in her inbox, from Martha, Greta, and Neal, all of them concerning Justin Newcombe’s murder. Greta’s and Neal’s both contained telephone numbers, with requests to send hers if she would prefer it. Martha’s was simply a request for information, as she had only been informed because her number was in Justin’s phone.
Libby called Greta and sent Neal an email with her own number.
‘How did you hear about it?’ asked Libby when Greta answered.
‘Martha called me because the police had told her. She said she was going to contact you.’
‘She has. Everything seems to be a terrible muddle. Did she tell you about the Turkish policeman who’s now investigating?’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure what he’s doing. I thought that Johnny Smith’s people were investigating?’
‘They are – but they’re not on home soil. And the Turkish policeman may well be a bit suspicious.’ Libby didn’t want to go into the theories of Alec’s witness protection status, nor tell Greta anything about Sally Weston’s mother.
‘Will you let me know if you hear anything else?’ asked Greta. ‘It’s very worrying, all this.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Libby, mentally crossing her fingers. She would if she could, of course.
She had barely ended the conversation with Greta when the phone began ringing.
‘Libby? Is that you? It’s Neal here – Neal Parnham.’
‘Hello, Neal. How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, but what’s all this about Justin? Do you know anything?’
‘Only that he was found on Sunday in a London hotel. How did you find out?’
‘Oh, the police. He had my number in his phone. They apparently wondered if he’d arranged to meet me.’
‘Yes, they thought the same about Harry,’ Libby felt safe in replying.
‘Harry?’
‘Oh, yes. They turned up to question him on Monday morning. Quite nasty with it, too.’
‘Fuck!’ Libby was quite surprised as swearing didn’t seem to fit Neal’s rather quiet personality.
‘Did they come and see you?’ she asked.
‘No, they just phoned. I got the impression they were going through all the British numbers in his phone.’
‘Whatever did they do before mobile phones,’ said Libby.
‘So why did they go and see Harry?’
‘Justin called him on Friday night to tell him about the Turkish policeman.’
‘What Turkish policeman?’
‘I told you in the group email I sent. I sent it to you, Greta and Tom, and Betty, and Harry emailed Justin.’
‘Oh, I didn’t realise it was – er – serious. And you said Commander Smith had turned up, too? Here?’
‘Yes, on my doorstep, but it seems as if Smith’s team are working on one theory and the Turkish policeman on another. They don’t appear to like each other very much. But none of them like the crowd at the Istanbul Palace.’
‘Oh, them. I didn’t go there more than once.’
‘What did
you think of them?’
Neal was silent for a moment. ‘I didn’t think much of them at all,’ he said eventually. ‘They seemed very cliquey.’
‘Did you go with Alec?’
‘Yes. He was very good about taking me to places …’ His voice trailed off.
‘And he introduced you to people like Justin and Sally.’
‘And Martha. He even introduced me to the owner of that hotel and his awful wife.’
‘Geoff and Christine Croker.’
‘Is that who they are? I can’t remember. I thought they seemed as if they should be on the Costa del Sol, not Erzugan.’
‘Fran and I thought that, too. We thought they were all lotus-eaters in that place.’
‘They were what?’
‘Lotus-eaters. From Homer’s Odyssey. The island where the sailors were given lotus to eat and forgot all about going home and stopped caring about their homes and families.’
‘Ah.’
Libby decided Neal now thought she’d been showing off. ‘It’s quite a common expression,’ she explained. ‘Means people who run away from obligations and hide.’
‘Like criminals in Spain.’
‘Well, that’s what you meant about the Costa del Sol, isn’t it?’
‘Exactly. So are the police looking into those people?’
‘I believe so,’ said Libby cautiously.
There was a short silence.
‘Who’s looking into the boat?’ Neal said suddenly. ‘The Turkish police or the English?’
‘His boat? I don’t know – the Turkish, I think. It was in its normal place the day he was found, wasn’t it?’
‘I think so. I can’t remember. Don’t forget I didn’t know anything about it until the Jandarma came to talk to you in the evening.’
‘Of course. I’d forgotten about that. Someone said it was still beached.’
‘But if someone had used the boat the night before they would have been careful to beach it again, wouldn’t they?’
‘But wouldn’t it have been damp? Or would it have dried out by the time they had a look at it?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Neal. ‘It’s very hot out there, isn’t it? It could have dried. Someone must be looking into it.’
‘I expect they are. Infuriating, isn’t it, that we can’t just pop over and see what they’re doing.’
‘Couldn’t we?’ said Neal hopefully.
‘No. Both police forces would find that very suspicious. Anyway,’ added Libby cruelly, ‘your two best friends out there …’
‘Are dead. I know. That’s why I want to know.’ Neal sighed. ‘Honestly, I feel as if it’s my fault.’
‘Why on earth do you feel that? You said that while we were out there.’
‘It all happened after I got there and made friends with them.’
‘Unless it was you that killed them, I can’t see the connection,’ said Libby, wondering, all the same.
‘But perhaps it was something I said? You know, something I didn’t realise …’
‘Like talking about something in the past that struck a chord?’ Libby saw a glimmering of light.
‘Exactly! I can’t think what it could be at the moment, but I could have done, couldn’t I? In general conversation.’
‘Think back,’ said Libby. ‘Who was there when you were in company with Alec? Was Justin always there?’
‘Ye-es,’ said Neal slowly. ‘Sometimes we ate at Martha’s, sometimes at The Red Bar, and there were always several people around. Justin and Alec, Sally sometimes, a couple of others who I don’t remember very well.’
‘So a lot of conversations could have been overheard?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘But if that was it, wouldn’t you have been the victim? If someone thought you knew something you shouldn’t?”
‘Oh.’ Neal sounded miserable. ‘I suppose so. Oh, God!’
‘What?’
‘If that is the case, someone might be after me!’
The thought had occurred to Libby, too. ‘It’s unlikely, though,’ she said. ‘If all three deaths are connected, the reason is surely more likely to be out in Erzugan than here.’
‘I suppose so.’ Neal sounded reluctant to agree. ‘Do you know any more about the investigation?’
‘Not really. Just that we’ve been questioned again by the police, as I told you.’ Libby paused ‘Neal, I don’t suppose Alec or Justin ever said they knew one another in this country before they went to Turkey?’
‘No.’ Neal now sounded surprised. ‘That’s a thought though, isn’t it? I wonder …’
‘Nor Sally?’
‘I didn’t talk to Sally much. She wasn’t always around.’
‘Only –’ Libby hesitated. ‘Only Fran and I met her mother this morning.’
‘Her mother?’
‘Yes. Turns out she used to live near us. We didn’t know her, though.’
‘I suppose they all would have had relations here,’ said Neal. ‘I just hadn’t thought about it. How did you find out?’
‘It was in our local paper. It does make you wonder about Alec’s long-lost mother, doesn’t it?’
‘Poor woman. I don’t suppose she even knows.’ Neal sighed. ‘Oh, well, unless the police come knocking on my door I don’t suppose I’ll hear any more about it.’
‘Are you on Facebook?’ asked Libby.
‘Yes, why?’
‘If you join Martha’s page, and Jimmy’s, we’re all keeping in touch on those.’
‘Great idea. Thanks, Libby. And I’ll send you a friend request, if I may.’
‘Of course,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll check it out later. Nice to talk to you, Neal.’
‘If only it wasn’t for such an awful reason. Bye, Libby.’
And that’s that, thought Libby, switching off her phone. Now we just have to wait until someone sees fit to tell us what’s going on.
And then someone did.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Is that Libby Sarjeant?’
‘Yes – who’s calling?’ asked Libby, suspecting a cold caller of some sort.
‘Geoff Croker here – from the Istanbul Palace in Erzugan. I don’t know whether you remember?’
Libby’s heart gave an uncomfortable thump. ‘Yes, I remember. Why are you calling?’
‘I was wondering if you could tell me why my friends and I are being harassed by the British police.’
There was no doubt of the aggression in Geoff Croker’s voice.
‘Are you? What about?’
‘Mrs Sarjeant, you and your friend were seen in the company of that commander from the Met, and we know he consulted you about the murders. So why are we all being investigated?’
Libby sighed. ‘Look, Mr Croker. Mrs Wolfe and I were being questioned because we were the people who found the first body. I have no idea why you are being investigated. The police aren’t still there, are they?’
‘I’m sure you know that they are.’
‘I’d heard that it was being investigated by the Turkish police now,’ said Libby disingenuously.
‘And where did you hear that?’
‘On one of the social media pages,’ said Libby glibly.
‘Oh.’ There was a short silence. ‘So you don’t know?’
‘Look,’ said Libby, suddenly exasperated. ‘How can I know what’s going on over there? I’m in England, for heaven’s sake, and I only went to Erzugan once, I’m not even a regular visitor.’ She wondered if the Crokers knew about Justin and decided not to ask. ‘And how did you get my number, by the way?’
‘You can find anything on the internet.’
‘I didn’t think my telephone number was on there,’ said Libby frostily.
Croker grunted.
‘Why are you bothered about being investigated by the police anyway? Unless you’ve got something to hide, of course.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Croker’s voice now was more shocked than aggressive.
‘What I s
aid. They’ve been investigating us, too. Proper in depth police checks to see if we’ve got any connection to any – either – of the victims. So it stands to reason they’d investigate friends from their own home village.’
‘They weren’t friends of ours.’
Libby just stopped herself in time from saying ‘So we’d heard’. ‘Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you,’ she said instead. ‘What are the Jandarma doing now?’
‘We’ve got some inspector or something from Antalya and his sidekick. He’s at least up front.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Asks us all where we were on the night in question, that sort of thing.’
‘Sensible,’ said Libby. ‘Have they found out anything about the boat?’
‘The boat?’ Croker snapped.
‘Yes. Whether Alec Wilson’s own boat was used to take him out to sea.’
‘No idea. If you talk to the police any more, tell ’em to lay off.’ And the call was abruptly ended.
‘Now that was interesting,’ Libby said to Sidney, as she replaced the handset into its cradle. Sidney, sitting on the third step of the staircase, chirruped. The front door opened and Ben grinned at her.
‘What was interesting?’
‘Guess who just rang?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ He went through the sitting room into the kitchen. ‘Are you ready for a drink?’
‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it? I haven’t started dinner yet.’
‘Well, let’s have one anyway, and you can tell me all about your day.’
Armed with a glass of red wine, Libby recounted the day’s events and conversations.
‘And what’s so interesting is that Croker actually bothered to track me down and call me,’ she concluded. ‘Does he really think that I have any influence?’
‘It must have got around about you helping Smith search the houses,’ said Ben, ‘but, yes, it is significant. I think you ought to tell Ian.’
‘Not Smith? It’s his team on the ground out there.’
‘You don’t really want to speak to Smith, do you? Ian can pass it on.’
‘OK.’ Libby sighed. ‘Fran was going to tell him about Carol Oxford. He’ll be moaning at us again.’
Ian called back in response to Libby’s message just as she and Ben were sitting down to a hastily constructed meal.
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