Murder Imperfect

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘No, nothing. She’d been doing Red Cross work all through the war, but folk said it was because she didn’t want to do nothing like proper work. You know, working on the farms, or in munitions or something.’

  ‘Did she think it was beneath her?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Maybe she did.’ Dolly shrugged, massively. ‘She talked quite posh. Don’t think she was local. I wasn’t much more’n a kid, though. I wouldn’t have known.’

  ‘So she was the one who arranged Josephine’s adoption,’ said Libby slowly. ‘I wonder if earlier in the war she’d arranged Amy’s, and that was how she knew?’

  ‘That doesn’t work,’ said Colin, shaking his head. ‘Amy would have known her, then, and known Maud knew. She’d know who’d written the anonymous letter.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Libby. ‘Amy could have been behind the scenes.’

  ‘Did you know them?’ Dolly asked Libby.

  ‘No, but my partner, Ben, did. Hetty’s son, you know.’

  ‘Course he would’ve done. But he was only a boy, then, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He went to Sunday School and Amy Taylor ran it.’ Libby turned to Colin. ‘I can’t believe what a coincidence this is. Two coincidences. Dolly living here, and now Maud Burton. What’s happening that I’m not seeing?’

  ‘Eh? What do you mean?’ Colin looked puzzled.

  Dolly chuckled. ‘You want to get your mate onto it, love,’ she said.

  ‘My mate?’ Colin said.

  ‘No, hers. Libby’s.’ Dolly pointed. ‘Her mate what helps the police.’

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Libby.

  ‘I read the papers, don’t I? Told you I knew who you was.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Colin.

  ‘My friend Fran,’ said Libby. ‘She’s a bit of a – well, a psychic. She’s helped the police a couple of times.’

  ‘Couldn’t she –’ Colin began, but Libby cut him off.

  ‘When I told Cy about her, he said the same thing, but she’d have to see all the people, and where things happened. The snow’s put paid to that.’

  ‘Oh.’ Colin subsided.

  ‘Do you remember what Josephine’s foster parents’ name was?’ Libby turned back to Dolly, who frowned.

  ‘Harrison?’ she said. ‘No, not Harrison. Something like that.’

  ‘Did you call them “aunt” and “uncle”? People used to in those days,’ said Libby.

  ‘No, I didn’t call them anything.’

  ‘Don’t you remember your mother saying “We’re going to see the somebodies”, anything like that?’

  ‘No. We’re going to see little Josie, that was about it.’ Dolly shrugged again. ‘Sorry about that.’

  Libby sighed. ‘That’s all right.’ She stood up. ‘We’d better get back before it gets dark and starts snowing again.’ She bent over and kissed Dolly’s cheek. ‘Thank you so much, and it was lovely to meet you. I’ll tell Flo I’ve seen you.’

  Dolly beamed. ‘And I’m coming to your panto,’ she said, struggling to get out of her chair. ‘Tell Flo I’ll come and have a drink with her.’

  ‘Well, what about that?’ said Colin, as he took the car carefully on to New Barton Lane. The sky was indeed darkening over the snow-covered fields, and in the distance bare trees stood like cut out silhouettes.

  Libby shook her head. ‘It’s all too pat,’ she said. ‘Too many coincidences.’

  ‘Do you think she’s lying, then?’ Colin was leaning forward, concentrating on the road. ‘A nice old girl like that?’

  ‘No, I don’t, and I can truly see that her living where I do is a perfectly believable coincidence. It’s just that now you’re here, too. Or rather, Cy is.’

  ‘There’s nothing in it, you know, dear,’ said Colin. ‘I doubt if she’s covering up for the murderer.’

  Libby looked at him quickly. ‘So you still think that Paddy’s murderer and Cy’s attacker were one and the same?’

  ‘Well, of course. Don’t you?’

  ‘I just don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘Shall we see what Cy thinks? Anyway, we’ll have to inform the police now, won’t we? About this Larry Barkiss.’

  ‘And ask Sheila if she remembers him,’ said Colin.

  ‘And if she remembers anything about this Cliona and Norma thing. Can’t believe she didn’t.’

  Colin dropped Libby off at Allhallow’s Lane.

  ‘I suppose you couldn’t come round tonight for a council of war?’ he said, as she opened the door.

  ‘Rehearsing, sorry,’ she said, turning back to him. ‘That is, if anyone comes. Bloody snow. If the lane from Steeple Farm wasn’t so dodgy I’d say meet us in the pub for a drink, but even so, Cy’s probably not feeling up to that, is he?’

  ‘Not in public,’ sighed Colin.

  ‘They can use the lane from the farm to the Manor.’ Ben appeared behind Libby’s shoulder and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Then we can have a drink in the theatre bar.’

  ‘Would Cy be up for that?’ asked Libby. ‘Or do you think he’s still a bit too fragile?’

  ‘I’ll see when I get back,’ said Colin, putting the car in gear. ‘I’ll ring you.’

  ‘So what happened?’ said Ben, as Libby followed him into the sitting room, where the lights on the Christmas tree joined the orange glow from the fire and created a welcoming, seasonal picture.

  ‘You’ll never guess what we found out,’ said Libby, peeling herself out of Ben’s old anorak. ‘Just you wait!’

  ‘I will,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll make some tea.’

  ‘Strong stuff, please,’ said Libby. ‘I just had to drink a mug of hot water and milk. You’d think someone of Dolly’s vintage would produce something a bit stronger, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Come on, then,’ said Ben, passing her a mug a couple of minutes later. ‘Tell all.’

  So Libby did. Ben didn’t interrupt, but his expression grew more and more stunned as she went on. Eventually, when she’d finished, he shook his head and blew out a long breath.

  ‘Coincidence doesn’t come into it,’ he said.

  ‘No, I know.’ Libby finished off her tea. ‘There’s something I’m not seeing. Colin wanted to know what I meant by that, but you know, don’t you?’

  Ben wrinkled his brow. ‘That there’s something logical that’s linking these two stories that we haven’t seen?’

  ‘Yes. Except that the logical thing is anonymous letters and Maud Burton, but there’s no way anyone attacking Cy or Patrick would know a) that I was going to get involved, or b) that Joe at Cattlegreen would mention Maud Burton.’

  ‘And you don’t want to ask Fran?’

  ‘Well, I don’t see what she could do,’ said Libby. ‘She couldn’t get over here, not in this weather, and without some kind of physical connection it just wouldn’t work.’

  ‘Would it be worth just asking her?’

  ‘I could,’ said Libby doubtfully, ‘but I’d better ask Cy first. If he agrees to come to the theatre tonight I’ll ask him then.’

  ‘I’d suggest us walking from the theatre to Steeple Farm,’ said Ben, ‘but that would mean having to walk all the way back here afterwards. No fun at that time of night and in this weather.’

  ‘No. Pity the lane from Steeple Farm is so dodgy. If it wasn’t so steep it’d be OK.’

  ‘Colin got down it this afternoon?’

  ‘Yes – just hope he got back up it,’ said Libby. ‘Perhaps I’d better phone.’

  But she didn’t have to. Within a few minutes, Cy had called her, saying he was feeling perfectly able to walk down to the village and Harry had said they could all meet in The Pink Geranium after rehearsal.

  ‘In that case,’ said Ben, ‘why don’t we see if he can keep some post-theatre supper for us? Then we needn’t cook this evening.’

  Appealed to, Harry said he was bound to have leftovers, as he’d already had several weather-related cancellations.

  ‘We’ll pay, of course,’ said Ben.

>   ‘Of course you bloody will,’ said Harry. ‘I’ve got Adam’s wages to pay, or he’ll have no money to buy his mother a Christmas present.’

  The rehearsal that evening was scrappy. The musical director and the front half of the cow were still at loggerheads, neither the Queen nor one half of the comedy duo had made it again, and although some of the ensemble were there, it was obvious that the gaps in their ranks had thrown them completely, and as the choreographer was yet another victim of the snow, Libby gave up after an hour and told them all to go home. Ben called Harry and Cy and said they would be earlier at The Pink Geranium than they’d imagined.

  ‘I can’t wait to hear what’s been going on,’ said Peter, winding his long scarf round his neck as he went up the spiral staircase to lock the sound and lighting box.

  ‘It’s interesting,’ said Libby, struggling into the anorak. ‘But terribly confusing.’

  ‘When are you going to buy yourself a proper coat?’ Peter looked over the rail at the top of the staircase. ‘You look like a bag lady.’

  ‘You’ve always told me I look as though I’ve been dressed by Oxfam,’ said Libby, ‘so what’s the difference?’

  Ben arrived from doing the rounds of the theatre and they let themselves out into the frozen night.

  ‘Do you remember Maud Burton and Amy Taylor, Pete?’ Libby asked as she walked down the Manor drive between Peter and Ben.

  ‘I’m not as ancient as my revered cousin, or you, come to that,’ said Peter, linking his arm with hers. ‘So, no, I don’t.’

  ‘And I don’t remember them well, either, Lib, so we’re lost causes, really.’ Ben linked with the other arm.

  ‘I wish I could get to the bottom of this link with the Amy Taylor case and Cy’s.’ Libby did a gentle glide for a few feet before regaining her footing.

  ‘You’ve only just found out about the link,’ said Ben. ‘Give it time.’

  ‘What link?’ said Peter, steadying Libby as she slipped again. ‘Oh, all right. I’ll contain my soul in patience.’

  When they arrived at the restaurant, it was to find Cy and Colin ensconced on the sofa in the window, a bottle of red wine and five glasses in front of them. Adam hobbled up to take coats and gave his mother a kiss.

  ‘I found some money in my account today,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘How did that get there?’

  Libby grinned. ‘Magic.’

  ‘Internet magic,’ said Adam, and gave her another kiss. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Harry can’t join us just yet,’ said Colin, his wispy moustache tickling Libby’s other cheek as he kissed her. ‘Shall we start without him?’

  ‘I want to know what’s going on first,’ said Peter, pouring wine. ‘What have I missed?’

  Between them, Colin and Libby gave him a précis of the afternoon’s revelations. ‘You’ll have to fill Harry in,’ said Libby when they’d finished. ‘I can’t go through it all again.’

  ‘He’ll pick it up as he goes along,’ said Peter, ‘he’s good at that. So, where do you go from here?’

  ‘We need to inform the police about Larry Barkiss,’ said Libby. ‘And you ought to do that, Cy. You do remember him don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember him,’ said Cy, looking uncomfortable, ‘but I’m not sure about telling the police.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Ben. ‘He had a grudge against you and Patrick.’

  ‘It’s a long time ago,’ said Cy. ‘I’m sure he’s changed now.’

  ‘Do you know where he is?’ asked Peter. Cy shook his head.

  ‘He thinks the family moved away,’ said Colin, shooting a nervous look at Cy, who frowned.

  ‘Look, Cy,’ said Libby, ‘if you want to find out who did this to you, and to Patrick, then you have to tell the police everything you know. And that includes anyone who might have threatened you in the past. If you won’t do it, we will and they’ll come and question you anyway.’

  ‘Why can’t Dolly tell them?’ asked Cy. ‘She’s the one who remembered.’

  ‘Because she’s scared,’ said Colin bluntly. ‘She doesn’t want him to come after her.’

  ‘Well, suppose he comes after me again?’ said Cy, turning frightened eyes on his partner.

  ‘Well, he’s unlikely to find you in Steeple Martin, is he?’ said Ben.

  ‘If he’s tracked down me and Paddy’s family and found out I’m not in Maidstone, he could find out where Dolly lived. Then he could find me. He’d connect it up. None of you had thought of that, had you?’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  COLIN, BEN, LIBBY AND Peter looked at each other. Then Peter shook his head.

  ‘Why on earth would he connect you and Dolly?’ he said. ‘The only connection between you and Paddy was that you stood up for him at school. Why on earth would you go running to his auntie in time of trouble?’

  ‘If he even knew that Dolly lived here,’ said Libby. ‘Peter’s right. And besides, even though he’s a viable suspect, I just don’t believe it. I still think the original attack and murder are separate from the later one.’

  ‘You know,’ said Colin, ‘there were a couple of things we didn’t ask this afternoon, Libby.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The name of the farmer.’ He looked at Cy and patted his hand. ‘The one who turns out to be Cy’s granddad.’

  Cy made a face. ‘Fancy my grandmother turning out to be a murderer,’ he said.

  ‘I think you’ve taken it very well,’ said Libby.

  ‘I didn’t when Col first told me,’ he said with wry smile. ‘I was all over the place. Do you think we should tell the police about that, too?

  ‘I suppose you should,’ said Libby, ‘and Colin’s right. We should find out the name of the farmer. I can’t think why we didn’t ask this afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll call Sheila in the morning,’ said Colin. ‘See if she remembers anything more about Josephine’s mother.’

  ‘I don’t think she does,’ said Libby, ‘but she’ll remember the farmer’s name, won’t she?’

  ‘Do you think it’s something to do with my grandmother?’ said Cy, twirling his wineglass nervously in his fingers. ‘Do you think she perhaps left another child, somewhere?’

  They all looked at one another again.

  ‘I never thought of that,’ said Libby.

  ‘What was it Dolly said this afternoon?’ said Colin. ‘There’s another suspect for you?’

  ‘You see,’ said Harry, who had come up behind Ben, unnoticed, ‘this is why we have to have Loopy Libby, the Super Snout, on the trail. She has an unerring nose for sniffing out the nasty little background details.’

  ‘But I didn’t,’ said Libby. ‘Colin’s just thought of it.’

  ‘But you were the one who thought there might be something in the background,’ said Harry.

  ‘I know,’ wailed Libby, ‘but I had nothing to do with this! It was handed to us on a plate.’

  ‘Have you come to join us, dear heart?’ said Peter pushing his chair back.

  ‘Nearly,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll just go and check on the kitchen and see if all the punters have paid. What there are of them,’ he added gloomily, looking round at the half empty restaurant. ‘Then I’ll get Ad to bring out some food. Come with me and tell me what’s been going on.’

  So Peter accompanied Harry back to the kitchen, Donna brought another bottle of red wine and Adam appeared with a tray of food.

  ‘You don’t think, do you,’ said Ben a little later, with his mouth full of quesedillas de hongos ‘that this Larry Barkiss is also one of Norma Cherry’s descendants?’

  There was another silence.

  ‘Heavens,’ said Colin.

  ‘It’s possible,’ said Peter. ‘Far-fetched, but possible.’

  ‘It’s what Cy said, she could have had other children. We don’t know. And I don’t suppose anyone knows,’ said Libby.

  ‘Just a thought,’ said Harry, pulling up another chair and sitting astride it, ‘but have none of you looked her up yet?
’

  ‘Oh God, no!’ Libby laughed. ‘How stupid. Did you?’ she said to Colin and Cy.

  ‘Only got the posh phone,’ said Colin, ‘no laptop.’

  ‘There’s no broadband up at Steeple Farm,’ said Ben, ‘but if that’s a smart phone, you can get internet on it, can’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not good for looking things up, really,’ said Cy. ‘Too small.’

  ‘We’ll have a look,’ said Libby and Harry together. ‘Great minds,’ said Harry.

  ‘Have I already looked up Cliona Masters?’ Libby asked Ben. ‘I don’t think I have, have I?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. You looked up Amy Taylor and Maud Burton, though.’

  ‘And how weird is that?’ said Harry. ‘Fancy old Maudie being mixed up in Cy’s case, too.’

  ‘Now I want to know if Maud had a hand in Amy’s baby’s adoption, too,’ said Libby. ‘Don’t you, Ben?’

  ‘Not sure,’ he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. ‘It looks as though what Maud did with Josephine was illegal, although to be fair, it was motivated by the best possible intentions. It got the baby out of a situation where it would almost certainly have gone to an orphanage, and gave a couple who were obviously desperate for children the chance to have one.’

  ‘True,’ nodded Harry, ‘but I bet the old bitch did it for money. No one’s ever had a good word to say about her here.’

  ‘I can’t see what that would have to do with anything,’ said Peter. ‘You’ve got Burton and Taylor mixed up in this by accident. If you hadn’t spoken to Joe at Cattlegreen about anonymous letters you would have never known about them, and the case has nothing whatsoever to do with Cy.’

  Silenced, Libby concentrated hard on her plate, feeling the heat creep up her neck. Ben patted her leg under the table.

  ‘Cruel, love,’ said Harry. ‘Cruel, but fair. Don’t mind him, petal. Have another drink.’

  Libby squeezed Ben’s hand and smiled gratefully at Harry.

  ‘Putting two and two together and making five again, aren’t I?’ she said. ‘Sorry Cy. That’s me all over.’

  Cy smiled back at her, somewhat nervously. ‘But you didn’t stir up all these new things,’ he said. ‘That was Dolly.’