Murder Imperfect

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Ian seems to know something about everything,’ said Libby. ‘What was he doing back at Steeple Farm?’

  ‘I don’t know, I left him there,’ said Ben. ‘So, you’re coming to the pub at eleven?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Libby. ‘I’ve just been checking the online bookings. It seems to have been worth that exorbitant amount of money for the system.’

  ‘I said it would be.’ Ben sounded smug. ‘See you at eleven.’

  The pub was empty when Libby arrived, just after they’d opened the doors. The fire was blazing nicely, so after ordering herself a hot chocolate, she sat down at the table beside it. Ben came in a few minutes later, ordered beer, and came to sit next to her.

  ‘No Ian yet?’ he said, as the long-legged ensemble member brought their drinks over.

  Libby shook her head. ‘I wonder what he wants to tell us.’

  ‘And why,’ said Ben, sipping beer.

  ‘Here he is,’ said Libby, as the door opened once more. ‘I think we’re about to find out.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  ‘TELL ME AGAIN WHY you were interested in the Burton and Taylor case,’ said Ian sipping black coffee.

  Libby sighed heavily. ‘I told you yesterday,’ she said, and repeated the story.

  ‘And you hadn’t found any connection with Cy Strange or his family before then?’

  Ben and Libby looked at one another. ‘No,’ said Libby, ‘there wasn’t one. It came up completely by accident.’

  ‘But you then found a connection through Mrs Webley?’

  ‘Who?’ said Ben.

  ‘Aunt Dolly,’ said Libby. ‘Well, yes. I said. She told us the Red Cross woman who gave Josephine away was Maud Burton.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Ben. ‘She didn’t actually say “Maud”, did she? She said “Butcher Burton”, or something like that.’

  ‘Not at first, but she knew it was the same woman. She moved here at just about the time of the scandal. So is there a connection?’ asked Libby. ‘Apart from the one we now know about?’

  ‘There is.’ Ian nodded. ‘I made some enquiries last night after I’d seen you because I thought I remembered something.’

  ‘How could you remember?’ said Libby. ‘I doubt if you were even born in the fifties.’

  Ian cocked an eye at her. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere, Mrs Sarjeant,’ he said, and Libby blushed. ‘Anyway, I remembered because it’s one of the open cases. They’ve all been reviewed recently because of the new Cold Case units. Here in Kent we’re reviewing every cold case back to the sixties.’

  ‘Really? Every one?’

  ‘Most. There are some where evidence has been kept in such a way that DNA can be recovered from it now, whereas it wouldn’t have been possible in the past.’

  ‘Not at all in the fifties or early sixties, I would have thought,’ said Ben.

  ‘No, but it has been possible over the last ten years,’ said Ian. ‘Except now we can get it from a much smaller sample and much quicker.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Libby impatiently, ‘what has this to do with the Burton and Taylor case? Did Amy Taylor not commit suicide?’

  ‘That I don’t know,’ said Ian. ‘What is thought is that Maud Burton was murdered.’

  ‘Murdered?’ said Libby and Ben.

  ‘But how? The reports from the time simply said she moved away straight after the inquest on Amy,’ said Libby.

  ‘Did it say she was thought to have a sister in the area?’ asked Ian.

  ‘Oh, yes, come to think of it.’

  ‘She was reported missing a couple of days after the inquest because a neighbour noticed her milk hadn’t been taken in and couldn’t get an answer at the door.’

  ‘Sad loss, the community milkman,’ commented Ben.

  ‘Some people still have one,’ said Libby. ‘We’ve got one here, but he’s so expensive, I –’

  ‘May I go on?’ said Ian.

  ‘Oh, sorry, yes.’ Libby folded her hands in her lap and subsided.

  ‘She was discovered to be missing and her house looked as though it had been ransacked. There was also a small amount of blood discovered in her sitting room. The police didn’t release this information for a variety of reasons, no doubt hoping she would turn up. She did indeed have a sister, who hadn’t seen her for some time, although she did provide some valuable information.’ Ian paused to drink more coffee.

  ‘And what was that?’ prompted Libby.

  ‘That she had strong links with the village where Norma Fleetwood had been found.’

  ‘Well, we know she was the one who handed Josephine over,’ said Libby.

  ‘We know that now. The police didn’t know it then.’

  ‘So what were these links?’ said Ben.

  ‘For a start, she lived there.’

  ‘Well, that’s hardly news, is it? Dolly told us she was the Red Cross woman for that hop garden, so she must have lived in the area,’ said Libby.

  ‘No, half the family lived there. Maud Burton, her sister and their brother. Their parents lived here in Steeple Martin. Her father was in business of some kind, the brother was in the army and the sister married. According to the sister, there had been some kind of unpleasantness at the end of the war and Maud had left the village.’

  ‘Well, I expect she got into trouble about giving Josephine away,’ said Libby.

  ‘There isn’t any record of that, but with hindsight, yes, that’s what could have happened, except that it’s rather odd that she – the baby – wasn’t taken back from the Robinsons if it was illegal.’

  ‘I expect it was because everything was in such chaos just after the war,’ said Ben.

  ‘I doubt if we’ll ever know,’ said Ian, ‘but what is interesting is that Maud came from an involvement with the Norma Fleetwood case, marginal, but an involvement, nevertheless, and then caused trouble here in Steeple Martin. And one of the things they found in her house was all her equipment for writing the letters.’

  ‘Yes, it said that in the report on the internet,’ said Libby.

  ‘And a list of initials and locations. And two of the locations were her old village near Maidstone.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Ben, ‘but no one’s ever mentioned the name of this village. Do we know it?’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Curtishill.’ Ian fished out his notebook and checked. ‘Yes, Curtishill. Ring any bells?’

  Libby and Ben shook their heads. ‘Should it?’ asked Libby.

  ‘I wondered if Mr Strange or Mrs Blake had mentioned it.’

  ‘No, because I doubt if Cy knew it. It’s a bit odd that Sheila didn’t. She mentioned “the village” but not its name.’

  ‘We do the same,’ said Ben. ‘We talk about “the village” because we assume everyone knows we’re talking about Steeple Martin.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Libby. ‘So part of the Burton family lived in Curtishill, and Maud was sending anonymous letters to people there, too, as well as here. Was it just anonymous letters, or was there blackmail involved, too?’

  Ian looked surprised. ‘Why should you ask that?’

  ‘Because there frequently is, isn’t there? Well, in books there is. And kidnappers always get in touch anonymously.’

  ‘Confused thinking there, Lib,’ said Ben, with a grin.

  ‘But actually, you’re right,’ said Ian. ‘The police didn’t look into it very thoroughly at the time, presumably too few clues had been left and no one, not even her sister, seemed particularly grief-stricken at her disappearance.’

  ‘You said cold cases back to the sixties, though,’ said Libby. ‘This one was fifties, surely?’

  ‘A few have slipped through the net,’ said Ian, ‘and this is one of them. Some DNA has been picked up from the stored evidence and they’re going to have a look into it, especially since you’ve turned up this new link.’

  ‘It isn’t down to me,’ said Libby, perturbed. ‘I didn’t do anything. It was Aun
t Dolly who told us about Maud.’

  ‘And you reported it. Or Mr Strange did.’

  ‘Well, don’t lay it at my door,’ said Libby. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Not curious, Libby?’ Ian and Ben shared complicit grins.

  ‘Well, of course I am,’ said Libby, ‘but not to the extent of getting involved. Anyway, you wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘That’s true, but I did ask for your opinion, so I’m perfectly willing to let you in on whatever comes up. As long as you don’t go investigating on your own.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Libby. ‘Are you feeling quite well?’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Ian. ‘I expect I’m having some sort of brain storm. And there might not be anything to find out, but I shall be working with the Cold Case unit on this one as I’ve been the one to bring in this information. One of their people will be interviewing Mrs Webley and Mrs Blake.’

  ‘Dolly won’t like that,’ said Libby.

  ‘We must try and see who in Curtishill Maud Burton was trying to blackmail and what about, so anyone who lived there at that time will be interviewed if they can be traced. Thanks to you, we know these two already.’

  ‘Hang on, you haven’t told us how you know there was blackmail involved,’ said Libby.

  ‘She’d written amounts beside the initials. It was like an old-fashioned accounts book.’

  ‘Like the ones you used to buy in Woolworths?’ said Libby.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Ian. ‘It’s red.’

  ‘I know the sort,’ said Libby. ‘Well, try the Hop Hall Players. They were formed at the hop gardens during the war and apparently there are still a couple of founder members still alive.’

  Ian nodded and made a note. ‘Right. Anything else you remember that might help, just let me know. Has Fran had anything to do with it?’

  ‘No. Both Colin and Cy said they wouldn’t mind her coming in on it, but I didn’t want to turn it into a full-scale Castle and Sarjeant adventure just before Christmas and the pantomime.’

  ‘Well, maybe you should ask her now,’ said Ian. ‘She might come up with something.’

  Libby looked dubious. ‘I haven’t really got the time any more to be showing her everything and filling her in,’ she said.

  ‘That’s true,’ said Ben. ‘If Libby has any more to fit in I won’t see her except on stage.’

  ‘OK.’ Ian nodded. ‘Another drink?’

  They both declined, and Ian left.

  ‘What about that, then?’ said Ben as they left the pub.

  ‘Bit of a turn-up for the books,’ said Libby. ‘It was all kept very quiet back in the day, wasn’t it? That’s surprising in a village like this. Especially then, when they relied on each other to pass along the news. I can just see all the housewives gossiping about it in the high street with their headscarves on and their baskets over their arms.’

  ‘And I wonder how she afforded a house in Lendle Lane,’ mused Ben. ‘It sounds as though she was a spinster, and the family don’t sound as though they were that well off.’

  ‘That must have been the blackmail profits,’ said Libby. ‘And she wouldn’t have bought the cottage, would she? They were all rented then.’

  ‘I wonder who her landlord was?’ Ben was looking thoughtful. ‘It wasn’t us, I’m pretty sure of that.’

  ‘Who else were big land or property owners back then?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Ben, ‘I’ll have to ask Dad.’

  ‘Why were you wondering, though?’

  ‘Well, it would still be difficult to afford the rent on a cottage for all that time – must have been at least ten years. She could have been putting the black on a landlord, couldn’t she?’

  ‘Joe mentioned someone,’ said Libby. ‘Sounds as though he came out of an Agatha Christie – Colonel something?’

  ‘Colonel Feathers who lived at Old Hall. Yes, I vaguely remember him. I don’t know that he owned any property in the village, though.’

  ‘That whole story’s straight out of Agatha Christie, actually, isn’t it?’ said Libby. ‘Or Georgette Heyer.’

  ‘Regency romance?’ Ben looked at her in surprise.

  ‘No, she wrote some detective stories, too. A bit like her Regencies simply transported to the thirties – although she wrote them into the fifties, I believe. All full of top-drawer caricatures and comic lower classes.’

  ‘I thought you liked Georgette Heyer,’ said Ben.

  ‘I love the Regencies,’ said Libby, ‘but I’m highly critical of the detective stories. Probably wouldn’t have been if I’d read them when they were written. Anyway, I still think the whole Burton and Taylor epic is just like a detective story in the fifties.’

  ‘I wonder if Ian will go and see Sheila himself?’ said Ben.

  ‘I doubt it. One of the cold case people will, I should think. He might go and see Aunt Dolly, as she’s on his patch. Although he’s not actually anything to do with the enquiry, is he?’

  ‘Not on Cy’s attack and Patrick’s murder, no, but he said he’d be working with the Cold Case unit, didn’t he?’

  ‘Oh well, good,’ said Libby. ‘I expect he’ll find out enough to keep us interested.’

  Later that afternoon Colin phoned.

  ‘Sheila just called,’ he said. ‘Apparently the police have been to see her and they’ve been into the bungalow again.’

  ‘Were they asking about the village in the war, did she say?’ asked Libby.

  ‘That’s right, they were,’ said Colin. ‘Fancy you knowing that!’

  ‘It’s an anonymous letter connection,’ said Libby vaguely. ‘She wasn’t worried by it, was she?’

  ‘No, just surprised, I think. She said she didn’t know what they were talking about at first.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she did,’ said Libby. ‘When I spoke to her she didn’t know much about Josephine’s background, except that she came from the village, although I suppose she might have known Maud Burton.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘We told you about Burton and Taylor,’ said Libby.

  ‘I’m sure you have,’ said Colin, ‘but give us an update.’

  ‘Very bad memory you have,’ said Libby, and gave him a brief resume, concluding with the most recent findings.

  ‘So you see there’s a connection with Josephine,’ she said. ‘Not that it would appear to have anything to do with the attack on Cy, or the anonymous letters, but there’s a cold case review going on now, so they’re looking into everything and joining up the dots.’

  ‘It’s very complicated,’ said Colin doubtfully. ‘What do you think they’re looking for in the bungalow, now? I thought they’d finished with it.’

  ‘No idea,’ said Libby. ‘Something hidden? Something Josephine put there that Cy’s never found?’

  ‘Either that or they think Cy’s hidden something there,’ said Colin.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Libby. ‘I assume he hasn’t?’

  ‘Well, of course he hasn’t.’ Colin was testy. ‘Look dear, do you think your nice policeman will let us go back home soon? I mean, Steeple Farm is lovely, but we would like to get back.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with my nice policeman,’ said Libby. ‘He was only doing a favour for Maidstone, wasn’t he? If I speak to him again I’ll ask him, but I think perhaps Cy should call the Maidstone police. You must have a contact for someone there?’

  ‘Oh, that scary woman, I suppose.’

  ‘Scary woman? Not Big Bertha?’ Libby felt her heart sink.

  ‘Who?’ said Colin. ‘Big Bertha?’

  ‘Sorry – Superintendent Bertram. Slim, blonde woman.’

  ‘No,’ said Colin and Libby let out a sigh of relief. Why, she didn’t know, after all she was hardly likely to come across anyone from the Maidstone police force.

  ‘A sergeant in the CID,’ said Colin. ‘Big woman. Do you know all the police in Kent?’

  ‘No, of course not. I’ve just come across a few of them.’ Libby now fel
t uncomfortable.

  ‘While solving murders?’

  ‘Well, no. I haven’t solved them. They’ve sort of been solved around me.’

  Colin tutted. ‘Anyway, dear, Sheila wanted me to ask you what it was all about.’

  ‘What what was all about?’

  ‘Why they were asking her questions.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, I’ve told you now, so you can tell her,’ said Libby.

  ‘I think she’d rather speak to you, dear,’ said Colin apologetically.

  ‘Oh.’ Libby made a face at Sidney. ‘All right, give me her number. Oh, Harry gave it to me, didn’t he? Sorry. By the way, Harry said you’d like to come to a rehearsal this week before you go home. When did you want to come?’

  ‘Oh, no, dear,’ said Colin. ‘We’ve booked tickets for next week! Wouldn’t dream of missing it.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Libby, surprised. ‘How nice of you. But what about your work? Won’t you have to go back?’

  ‘I’ve taken compassionate leave.’ Colin sounded smug. So has Cy. We can’t be expected to work in the middle of a police investigation, can we?’ He giggled.

  ‘Good – as long as you can get away with it,’ said Libby. ‘Right, now I’ll go and give Sheila a ring.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  ‘SHEILA? IT’S LIBBY SARJEANT. You know, Cy’s friend?’

  ‘Oh, hello.’ The whispery voice was back to how Libby had first heard it.

  ‘Colin told me you’d had a visit from the police.’

  ‘Yes.’ Sheila cleared her throat and came back stronger. ‘They were asking me about where I lived during the war.’

  ‘Curtishill, is that right?’

  ‘Yes – did I tell you that?’

  ‘No, the police did,’ said Libby.

  ‘The police? So you know what this is all about, then?’

  ‘Yes. Colin said that was why you wanted to talk to me. But why me?’

  ‘Because you were asking about Cyril’s mother and dear Patrick’s family. Then when the police came round they were, too. I wondered if you were something to do with the police. Or if you could tell me what it’s about.’

  Libby sighed. ‘Well, I can tell you a little bit, but not everything. I’m nothing to do with the police, but in a way it was because of me that the police came to you.’