Murder in the Dark - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series)

by Cookman, Lesley

  ‘Give us a chance,’ she grumbled, as Sidney streaked through her legs and out the front door.

  Finally unloaded, and having found places for most of her purchases, Libby made herself a cup of tea and listened to the message.

  ‘It’s Edward Hall, here, Mrs Sarjeant. I’d like to talk to you – and your friend. Mrs Wolfe, is it? Would you ring me back?’

  Libby punched in the number he gave.

  ‘We’d like to talk to you, too, Mr Hall,’ she said, after pleasantries had been exchanged. ‘When would suit you?’

  ‘I’m staying in the area, so anytime. This afternoon? Tomorrow?’

  ‘Not tomorrow, Mrs Wolfe is busy on Saturdays. I could probably get her to come here this afternoon.’

  ‘Could you? I’m in Canterbury, so how long would it take me to get to you?’

  ‘Half an hour or less. I’ll call you back when I’ve spoken to Fran.’

  Five minutes later the meeting was set up and Libby did a quick tidy of the sitting room, Sidney sitting on the table in the window with his ears back in disapproval. Fran arrived minutes before Edward Hall and made Libby go into the kitchen and stop flapping while she remained as the welcoming committee.

  ‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about?’ Edward Hall sat in the armchair on one side of the fire, while Libby and Fran sat side by side on the sofa.

  ‘The whole situation, really,’ said Fran. ‘Ramani, and how much she told you of what she knew about Dark House. Whether she had any enemies.’

  ‘She had a trail of ex-lovers, if that’s what you mean.’ Edward Hall looked amused.

  ‘Ah,’ said Libby. ‘So did she tell you about the affair with Roland Watson?’

  ‘No, I knew nothing about that. She just said it was a house belonging to a friend.’

  ‘Mr Hall, why do you think it’s important?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Please call me Edward.’ He smiled at them both. ‘Then I won’t feel as though I’m in the headmaster’s office.’

  ‘Then I’m Libby, and this is Fran.’ Libby stood up. ‘Would you like tea? Or coffee?’

  When all three were supplied with tea, Libby began again.

  ‘So Ramani rang you and told you – what exactly?’

  ‘She said a friend of hers and her husband’s had an old house which dated back to the mid seventeenth century, and that in an old document held at the local church there was reference to a treasure hidden in the house.’

  ‘And you got excited about it,’ said Fran with a smile.

  ‘Well, the dates fitted. I told you about the Battle of Maidstone, didn’t I? You see, it was quite a ragbag of people who tried to stand against Parliament and the trained army under General Fairfax. Country squires, some of the landed gentry and some of the labourers and farm workers. Completely unfitted for warfare, and it wasn’t like previous battles, it was man against man, up and down the streets of Maidstone. It’s thought that many of the men left hidden gold to look after their families if they didn’t return.’ He looked solemn. ‘And of course, many of them didn’t.’

  ‘How do you know it was Dark House?’ asked Libby.

  ‘She told me,’ said Edward, looking surprised. ‘Dark House, Dark Lane. I asked her exactly where it was, you see, to see if it could be linked to my research. I checked it out on the British Listed Buildings website, and as it happens, it’s not far off the route that General Rich took to recapture the castle at Dover – ’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Libby. ‘General Rich? Don’t forget neither Fran nor I are history scholars.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Edward looked sheepish. ‘I tend to get carried away.’ He sipped gingerly at his tea. ‘Oh, that’s good. I usually get dusty teabag stuff.’

  Libby grinned. ‘You go to the wrong places. Well, go on. Who was General Rich?’

  ‘He was a Parliamentarian under General Fairfax, but I’m not really interested in him. You see, there is very little known about the people involved in the battle, and I’m trying to put some flesh on their bones. Archaeology hasn’t helped much so far, and we don’t know where to look except for the few obvious places. We have some names: Sir William Brockman, Sir John Mayney and Sir Gamaliel Dudley, but that’s about all.’

  ‘And you think Dark House could have been owned by one of the rebels?’ said Fran.

  ‘That’s what Ramani thought.’

  ‘I wonder which church holds the document?’ mused Libby.

  ‘Is there one at Steeple Cross?’ asked Edward.

  ‘I’ve not seen one, but that doesn’t mean to say there isn’t,’ said Libby, and went to fetch her laptop. ‘Here, look.’ She turned the screen towards Edward. ‘St Mary’s.’

  ‘Where exactly?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Well!’ Libby looked triumphant. ‘About five minutes from Carl Oxenford’s house. No wonder Ramani found out about it!

  Chapter Ten

  ‘How do you make that out?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Well, she was bored, wasn’t she? I bet she just wandered in and …’ Libby stopped.

  ‘And just happened across a document about Roland’s house?’ Fran shook her head.

  ‘What religion was she, Edward?’ Libby turned to her guest.

  ‘She was an atheist,’ said Edward. ‘She broke with her family in Birmingham and more or less ran away to go to university. When I met her, she was determined to throw off all the shackles, as she put it. And she did.’ He smiled with reminiscent fondness.

  ‘Might she have gone to St Mary’s with Carl?’ asked Fran.

  ‘I’ve no idea, but I don’t think it’s so silly to think she would have gone to St Mary’s to see if she could find any trace of Dark House or its owners. She was a historian, and she’d been a researcher for a firm of heir hunters at one time, so she knew the value of church records.’

  ‘So, can we go?’ asked Libby.

  ‘What, now?’ Fran’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘No, not now. But can we go – perhaps Monday? Not a good idea to go at the weekend is it, with weddings on Saturdays and services on Sundays.’

  ‘I’m sure we could,’ said Edward. ‘Are you sure you want to be involved in this?’

  ‘Adelaide has asked us,’ said Libby, conveniently forgetting to mention that so had the police. ‘Anyway, before we go any further along that route, you said you wanted to see us. What about?’

  Edward looked uncomfortable. ‘This is going to sound weird,’ he said. ‘Adelaide said you were friendly with the police in charge of the investigation.’

  ‘Yes?’ Libby was wary.

  ‘I wonder if you could find out if I’m a serious suspect?’

  Fran and Libby looked at each other.

  ‘I’m not sure the police would divulge that sort of information,’ said Fran. ‘It’s not as if we’re involved in the case, we simply came in to it by accident.’

  ‘But Adelaide told us she’d asked you to tell the police something – after we’d seen you at Carl’s house.’

  ‘Yes, because she couldn’t face it,’ said Libby, ‘and because the DCI will accept what we say even if it is hearsay. That’s all. Why are you worried?’

  Edward sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘It’s difficult.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘It’s being black, you see.’

  Libby and Fran exchanged looks.

  ‘Go on,’ said Fran. ‘Are you talking about discrimination?’

  ‘Yes.’ Edward looked up. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but I got so used to the stop and search routine when I was younger, and even now, occasionally, I will be pulled over by traffic cops who don’t believe that a black man would be driving an expensive car.’

  Libby gasped. ‘That can’t be true!’

  Edward gave a wry smile. ‘Oh, it is, believe me. And I’m afraid I was convinced that was why I was pulled in so quickly when I arrived on Carl’s doorstep. I didn’t even know Ramani was dead.’

  Libby was pink with outrage. ‘Ian would never behave like that!’

  ‘Who’s
Ian?’ asked Edward.

  ‘DCI Connell,’ said Fran. ‘No I’m sure he wouldn’t. At least not for a racially-motivated reason.’

  ‘It was a uniformed sergeant and a detective constable who took me in,’ said Edward. ‘I was questioned by the DC – Robinson, I think he said.’

  ‘Robertson,’ said Libby. ‘Surely he didn’t bring you in off his own bat?’

  ‘The sergeant did, but the DC called someone.’

  ‘So what happened when he questioned you?’

  Edward shrugged. ‘Not a lot. He just asked me what I was doing there, how I knew Ramani, where I’d been for the last week and asked me to sign a statement. Oh, and to inform the police of any change of address.’

  ‘And where had you been?’ asked Fran.

  ‘At home.’ He grinned suddenly, teeth startlingly white against the dark skin. ‘And I have plenty of people to vouch for me – even overnight.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Libby, clearing her throat.

  ‘So why do you think you might be a suspect?’ asked Fran.

  Edward shrugged again. ‘Because I’m used to it. I would have sworn that the sergeant wanted to get at me, and I’d bet anything that my face is up there on their incident room white board.’

  ‘It sounds ridiculous to me,’ said Libby, ‘but I suppose we could ask, Fran?’

  Fran, remembering that Ian had already asked if they didn’t think Edward turning up was “odd”, slowly nodded. ‘We could.’

  ‘There,’ said Libby. ‘We’ll ask Ian – carefully – and we’ll pay a visit to St Mary’s on Monday.’ She turned to Fran. ‘Shall we ask Patti if she’s got an in with the vicar?’

  ‘Who’s Patti?’ Edward looked from one to the other.

  ‘A vicar friend of ours. The thing is, most village churches round here are served by one vicar to three or four churches, so sometimes access is dificult. There are usually churchwardens one can apply to, but Patti might guarantee us entry, and a look at any documents there might be.’

  ‘Did Ramani actually say “document”?’ asked Fran. ‘Might it be something else?’

  Edward frowned. ‘Come to think of it, I’m not sure she said. She’d found something in the church, so I suppose I assumed it was a document.’

  ‘It could be something else, then,’ said Fran. ‘I think asking Patti’s a good idea, Lib.’ She turned back to Edward. ‘We’ll give her a ring and let you know what happens.’ She smiled. ‘And try not to worry.’

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Libby as soon as their guest had taken his leave.

  ‘I don’t think he’s guilty,’ said Fran. ‘Selfish, yes, but not guilty. I’d love to know exactly what Ramani told him, though.’

  ‘And I’d like to know exactly what it was Roland told Ramani,’ said Libby.

  ‘Quite. And he isn’t likely to tell us, is he?’

  ‘No, but he might tell the police. We ought to tell Ian what Edward’s told us anyway, and they may be able to persuade Roland to let Edward search the house.’

  ‘If Adelaide doesn’t,’ said Fran.

  ‘I don’t think she’s that brave yet,’ said Libby. ‘Come on, who’s calling who?’

  ‘I’ll call Ian and you call Patti. Friday afternoon – is she busy?’

  ‘Oh, I can’t remember. I’ll risk it anyway.’

  To Fran’s surprise, Ian answered his official mobile immediately and listened carefully to Fran’s story.

  ‘That’s more or less what he told us in brief. He didn’t say anything about the string of lovers, though.’

  ‘Will you ask Roland Watson if Edward can search the house? With us, preferably? We’re going to see if we can find this document Ramani told Edward about.’

  ‘I already have. I think I told you I wanted you to be there if the search went ahead, didn’t I? Well, very reluctantly, he agreed. We laid on thick that we had to find out if this story had anything to do with Ramani’s death.’

  ‘Well,’ said Fran, ‘that’s true, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ian, ‘but I’m damned if I can see why.’

  ‘So do we make an appointment with him?’

  ‘I will,’ said Ian. ‘Or rather, I’ll get Robertson to liaise between you, Libby, Hall, and Watson. Anytime that isn’t convenient?’

  ‘Not Saturdays. I help in the gallery. And we were going to try and look at the church on Monday, but that isn’t certain yet.’

  ‘Right. Robertson or I will come back to you as soon as possible.’

  Libby had finished her own call to Patti and was waiting eagerly for news.

  ‘So, Ian’s setting up the search,’ Fran concluded, ‘but he didn’t say anything about Edward except that his story tallied with the one he told the police. What about Patti?’

  ‘She only knows the vicar of St Mary’s vaguely, and we were right, it is a shared parish, but she’s agreed to look up the churchwardens and give one of them a ring to see if we can go along and have a look. She also said that the churchwardens might know what we’re looking for, to save us a journey.’

  ‘Oh, we’d have to go ourselves, wouldn’t we?’

  Libby laughed. ‘I knew you’d say that. Patti said she’ll ring as soon as she’s got any news.’

  Neither DC Robertson nor Patti called back that day, nor did they on Saturday. Libby restlessly and erratically cleaned number 17 from top to bottom and began to make Christmas lists. Ben escaped to visit the timber yard on the estate and collect fresh eggs from one of the tenant farmers.

  On Saturday evening they went to The Pink Geranium for dinner and found Adam in his long white apron being head waiter and watching a nervous young woman with a benevolent eye.

  ‘New girl?’ murmured Libby, as he presented her with a menu.

  ‘PhD student,’ he muttered back. ‘Very nice girl.’

  Libby grinned. ‘I’ll have the quesadillas de hongos, please.’

  ‘And a bottle of red?’

  ‘Of course. Is Pete coming in?’

  ‘No, apparently he’s gone to Canterbury to see James.’

  Peter’s younger brother James lived and worked in Canterbury and was rarely seen in Steeple Martin other than for occasional Sunday lunches at The Manor.

  At the end of their meal, Harry joined them bringing another bottle of red wine with him.

  ‘I had your pollo verde all ready,’ he told Libby accusingly. ‘Now it’ll have to go in Adam’s freezer upstairs.’

  Harry cooked mainly Mexican vegetarian food, but he made an exception in order to cook Libby’s favourite chicken dish, for which he kept separate utensils, chopping boards and pans.

  ‘Sorry, Hal, but it’ll keep, won’t it?’

  ‘Not for too long. Now tell me how Ad’s case is going?’

  ‘It isn’t Ad’s case,’ said Libby. ‘Or ours, really.’

  ‘But Ian’s asked you to help.’ Harry grinned. ‘I have little birds all over the place keeping me informed.’

  ‘I think Ian’s stuck. They’ve talked to the owner of the house who was having an affair with the victim, his wife and an ex-lover. All of them have watertight alibis.’

  ‘They’re the best sort of alibis,’ said Harry. ‘One of them will be the murderer.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ said Libby. ‘One of them was in France – or Brussels or something – one of them in Hertfordshire and the other at home somewhere. All alibied up.’

  ‘No other leads?’

  ‘Not unless you count the historical aspect.’ Libby explained about the “treasure”.

  ‘There you are then,’ said Harry. ‘Somebody thought this woman knew where it was and after getting it out of her, killed her to keep her quiet. Simple.’

  Libby and Ben looked at him with wide eyes.

  ‘Bloody hell, Harry! You could be right!’ said Libby.

  ‘I often am.’ Harry preened.

  ‘Now you know why Ian wanted you to be on the search team,’ said Ben.

  ‘To keep an eye out for someone w
ho looks as though they know what they’re looking for?’ said Libby. ‘But that wouldn’t be Edward.’

  ‘No?’ said Harry and Ben together.

  ‘He’s a historian and accomplished researcher. What’s the betting he already knows what he’s looking for?’ said Ben.

  ‘But not because he murdered Ramani,’ objected Libby.

  ‘Just watch him when you go to visit that church on Monday,’ said Ben.

  ‘If we go,’ said Libby. ‘I haven’t heard yet.’

  ‘If you do,’ said Harry, ‘remember Monday’s my day off. I’ll come and provide the escort.’

  ‘I remember what happened last time you provided me with an escort on a Monday,’ said Libby darkly.

  Ben laughed. ‘The girls’ll be fine, Hal. They’re going to visit a church in broad daylight. Don’t worry. Patti might not even be able to set it up.’

  But she did. And on Monday morning, Libby, Fran, Edward Hall and Patti herself met at the lychgate of St Mary’s, Steeple Cross to inspect the memorial tablet of Sir Godfrey Wyghtham.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘A tablet?’ exclaimed Libby.

  ‘Yes.’ The Reverend Toby Morley looked surprised. Patti grinned.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Morley,’ she said. ‘Mrs Sarjeant was expecting something more spectacular, I think.’

  The Reverend took off his glasses and smiled at Patti. ‘Please call me Toby. And there is the Parish Register, even though the date was problematic.’ He looked round at the puzzled circle of faces. ‘Civil War, you see. All the upheaval within the church – there were gaps between 1642 and 1660.’

  ‘How did you know who we were looking for?’ asked Fran. ‘We didn’t.’

  ‘Patti, here – may I call you Patti? – told me why you were looking, and I remembered the young lady immediately. Very striking.’

  ‘Ramani?’ Libby looked questioningly at Patti.

  ‘It would appear so. She came asking for information about previous owners of Dark House,’ said the Reverend Toby. ‘Of course it wasn’t Dark House then, but Wyghtham Hall. That was how I knew what I was looking for. And of course she had a date – 1648.’

  ‘May we see?’ Edward Hall spoke for the first time. ‘I’m the historian of the party, Edward Hall.’ He held out a hand, which the Reverend Toby shook warmly.