Murder in the Dark - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series)
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‘Oh, right. Anyway, Adelaide told us that the police have been asking about her son Julian, and she seems to think – well, the police think – that Julian knew Ramani in London. Yet she says Carl’s practice was up north before they moved to Steeple Cross.’
‘Leicester,’ said Edward. ‘Where they met. Then she moved to London and he followed her.’
‘Really? How long ago was that?’
‘Let me see … Ramani wasn’t brilliant at keeping in touch, but we’d meet up if I had to go to London, and the last time was – oh, must have been four, five years ago.’
‘They weren’t married then? I assumed they’d been married longer than that.’
‘They were about to get married. I assumed she wouldn’t want to see me without Carl, but –. Well, let’s just say I was wrong.’
‘Why did she marry him? Although I never met her, it seems such an unlikely partnership.’
‘She was a chameleon. When Carl met her, she was being a serious PhD student, with a serious part-time job. He never saw the other side of her, which was a little wild, to say the least. And when she realised how wealthy he was – ’
‘Wealthy? I didn’t know that.’
‘Oh, yes. Apart from a GP’s salary, which is comfortable, he had money behind him. Beautiful house, up-to-the-minute surgery. We used to tease her about him. You know, the upright, uptight Doctor Oxenford.’
‘So why did she leave him and go to London?’
‘As far as I can tell,’ said Edward slowly, ‘to have a bit of fun and to test him. See if he really wanted to marry her. Which he did. But he wouldn’t move the practice to London, I think because, although she never showed her other side to him, he was probably aware of it, and wanted to get her away from temptation. So he set up down here.’
‘Right.’ Libby was frowning. ‘So you think she might have met Julian in London?’
‘It’s entirely possible. She was very much into the wine bar culture, if that’s what he’s into, too.’
‘He’s in the city,’ said Libby, ‘so yes, he would be. So is he a suspect, do you think?’
‘Obviously, he is, if the police think so.’
‘He said he didn’t recognise the photograph.’
‘Which was of a dead woman in her doctor’s wife persona.’
‘That’s true.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘I wonder if he knew about her and his father?’
‘And if his father knew about him?’
‘Blimey, yes! Well, I suppose that’s a more credible motive than some mythical buried treasure.’
‘So you don’t think there is any?’
Libby sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m still rather inclined to think Roland invented it to grab Ramani’s attention. After all, she was a young woman and he was – well, certainly middle-aged, despite thinking himself irresistible to women.’
It was Edward’s turn to sigh. ‘A wild goose chase, then?’
‘My favourite sort,’ said Libby. ‘I’ve chased more wild geese than you’ve had hot dinners.’
Edward laughed. ‘Talking about dinner, can I take you dinner tonight? You and your – Ben, isn’t it?’
‘Sadly not, Edward. Tonight’s a rehearsal night. Panto, you know.’
‘Did you say “panto”? I love panto.’
‘Really? You don’t strike me as a panto type.’
‘I’ll have you know I was the best baddie in our uni drama society. I was a loathsome King Rat.’
‘Would you like to come and sit in on our rehearsal? It’s a bit rough and ready at the moment, but you’d be welcome if you’re still getting bored in Canterbury.’
‘I’d love to! Shall I come to you first?’
‘No!’ said Libby in alarm. ‘Let me warn them they’ve got a visitor first. Anyway, there’s more parking at the theatre.’
She gave directions, rang off and then called Fran to tell her about the conversation.
‘So Julian’s in the running after all,’ said Fran. ‘He didn’t strike me as the murderous type.’
‘No, but if the police found out he had known Ramani and then lied about it – which he did – he’s bound to be a suspect.’
‘But why would he kill her? She’d already married someone else.’
‘Because he was disgusted about her affair with his father? And then killed his father?’
‘I suppose it’s possible.’ Fran sounded doubtful. ‘And slightly more feasible than buried treasure.’
‘That’s exactly what I said to Edward. Who, by the way, turns out to be a panto fan. He’s coming to watch rehearsal tonight.’
Fran laughed. ‘That I’d like to see!’
‘Well, you can come, if you want.’
‘No, I can’t leave poor Guy on his own yet again. Tell me about it tomorrow.’
The pantomime cast weren’t noticeably enthusiastic about having a guest in the auditorium, especially on hearing he was a top-flight academic, which automatically made him the enemy of some of the younger members.
However, he slipped in so quietly that no one saw or heard him until his spontaneous applause at the end of one the comedy set pieces. Libby turned and gave him a thumbs-up, then waved at her performers to carry on.
‘It’s excellent,’ he said when they broke for coffee. ‘Even now. How many of them are professional?’
‘Lots of ex-pros,’ said Libby, ‘including me. The dancers aren’t in yet. They’re senior students from a local stage school.’
‘And I love your theatre. Is it council-owned?’
Libby grinned. ‘No, it’s ours.’
‘Yours?’
‘It’s owned by Ben and his mother. Ben is – or was – an architect, so he turned it into a theatre, and Peter – that’s Peter, over there – is his cousin, so he and I became directors of the company. We put on what we like, but have to keep it solvent, so we hire out to other companies. We’re lucky that we have a good deal of local talent to draw on, and our sound and lighting people are all professional.’
‘I’m impressed, for the second time today,’ said Edward, turning on the spot to look up at the sound and lighting box at the top of its spiral staircase.
‘Well, while you’re in a good mood,’ said Libby, ‘can I ask you something?’
Edward looked down at her, his white smile splitting his face.
‘Yes, you can, yes, I know what it is, and yes.’
Libby smiled doubtfully. ‘You really know what I was going to say?’
‘Our conversation earlier surely gave you the answer?’
‘In a way,’ said Libby in confusion. ‘But I didn’t want to speculate …’
‘At university, I was one of Ramani’s sexual partners. When she moved to London it continued when I visited. But it was always very casual, because Ramani was like that. Nothing serious.’
‘Except for Carl.’
‘Even that wasn’t serious for her. Yes, she married him, but that was for his money. She had no intention, as far as I could see, of being faithful to him. In fact, I’d be very surprised if there weren’t more men to crawl out of the woodwork.’
‘Really?’ Libby’s eyes widened. ‘So there could be loads of new suspects?’
‘I don’t know about loads.’ Edward put his coffee mug down. ‘Or any that would have killed Roland Watson, too.’
Edward was introduced to Peter and Harry in the pub, and Harry flirted outrageously.
‘Don’t take any notice,’ said Libby, ‘he only does it to draw attention to himself.’
‘I must say, I like your friends.’ Edward leant back in his chair and stretched long legs out in front of him, looking a little like a black Peter. ‘I wish I’d stayed here instead of Canterbury.’
‘You could always move from the hotel into the pub,’ said Harry.
‘No,’ said Edward with a sigh. ‘I’ve got to get back home. There’s no reason for me to stay down here any more, unless the police really have got me on their radar.’
&nbs
p; ‘They’ve not come near you apart from to ask your advice,’ said Libby, ‘so I don’t think they have. Must you go?’
‘I must. Life goes on, although it’s now the Christmas vacation, I still have work to do. And then, there’s Christmas.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ groaned Libby.
‘But you will keep in touch and let me know what happens, won’t you? I’m still going to look into Godfrey Wyghtham. He’s going into the book.’
‘The book?’ several voices echoed in surprise.
‘Didn’t I tell you? That was why Ramani told me about the house. I’m writing a book on the lesser known figures and aspects of the civil wars.’
‘So you see,’ said Libby, on the phone to Fran the following morning, ‘there’s every reason to keep in touch with Edward, and every reason to look into Ramani’s private life to see if any more men creep out, as Edward put it, of the woodwork.’
‘I rather suspect the police are already doing that,’ said Fran, ‘especially since they’ve turned up Julian Watson.’
‘Oh, dear, poor old Carl.’
‘Unless he killed her.’
‘Oh, well, that, of course. But it must be hell, having your dead wife’s lovers dragged out in front of you.’
‘It must, yes. But I think we’ve gone as far as we can at the moment, don’t you? There’s no one else we can talk to – or no one who would talk to us, anyway.’
‘S’pose so. Pity though.’
‘I know, you’ll be bored. I bet you, though, that something will turn up and set you off again.’
‘Is that a feeling in your water?’
‘You could say that,’ said Fran, and rang off.
In fact, two things turned up that very afternoon, while Libby was making a first effort with the Christmas cards, helped at intervals by Sidney.
Libby snatched up the phone as soon as it began to ring.
‘Libby, you said you’d help me pack up some things at the house?’ said Adelaide.
‘Yes,’ said Libby cautiously.
‘Well, they’re letting me go back in tomorrow. Could you come with me?’
‘Does that mean it’s no longer a crime scene?’
‘I don’t know, do I? They just said I could go back and collect stuff, and they’re letting me go back to London.’
‘Oh, you will be relieved,’ said Libby. ‘And can you put the house on the market yet?’
‘I don’t know that, either, all I know is I can get out. Will you come?’
‘Yes, of course. What time?’
They settled on meeting at Dark House at ten thirty. Libby had just gone to put on the kettle to aid concentration on the Christmas cards, when the phone rang again.
‘Libby? It’s Edward.’
‘You sound excited. Have you left yet?’
‘No, I haven’t, and yes, I’m excited. I checked out of the hotel this morning, and decided as a courtesy I ought to let the police know I was going, and where. And your Inspector Connell asked to see me.’
‘Golly, did he? Did he clap on the irons?’
‘What? No, of course not! No, he invited me to go and see the tunnel under the grotto!’
‘He did what?’ said Libby, stunned.
‘The tunnel! Under the grotto. He’s asking Lewis, too, and he also said he supposed you and Fran would have to come along.’
‘Oh, nice! But it’s great news. Did you get anything out of him about the actual investigation?’
‘No, but I guess the tunnel’s been cleared, or they wouldn’t let us down there.’
‘True. So when is this supposed to be happening?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Ah.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘Well, I shall be there from half past ten anyway, as Adelaide wants me to help her pack up her things. I don’t actually think that will take that long, as she doesn’t seem to want much out of the house, just her clothes and personal belongings. All this sounds as though they’ve cleared the whole place, doesn’t it?’
‘It does, but that’s a bit odd, isn’t it? After all, the grotto was where both the bodies were found.’
‘But perhaps not where they were killed,’ said Libby.
Leaving Edward to make arrangements about the tunnel tour, she booked him a room , at his request, at the pub, and a table at The Pink Geranium.
‘So he hasn’t gone after all,’ said Harry. ‘I knew my charms would have an effect.’
‘You leave him alone. He’s as straight as – well, a straight thing. And very sexy.’
‘Ooh, I know dear.’ Libby heard Harry’s artistic shudder. ‘Shall you allow him to eat here alone at my mercy, or are you going to join him?’
‘No, I can’t do Pink Geranium twice in a few days.’
‘I don’t see why not. I have to.’
Libby laughed. ‘I’ll see what Ben says.’
Fran rang a little later.
‘So we’re all going back to Dark House tomorrow, then? See, I told you something would turn up.’
‘I think they’re going to need your particular expertise,’ said Libby.
‘In the grotto? I agree,’ said Fran. ‘In fact, I’m almost sure that’s why Ian’s suggested this trip.’
‘Are you? You mean, sure, sure? As in you absolutely know?’
‘I think Ian wants to know where they were killed. And it wasn’t in the grotto.’
Chapter Twenty
Ben was only too happy to eat at The Pink Geranium again, and at eight o’clock he and Libby joined Edward on the sofa in the window.
‘Fran says she thinks Ian – Chief Inspector Connell – is hoping she’ll come up with something tomorrow.’ Libby helped herself to wine.
‘What – you mean using her – um …’ Edward trailed off.
‘Yes,’ said Libby bending on him a minatory look.
‘It’s absolutely true,’ said Ben, looking amused. ‘I first met her when she was actually employed by a company of prestigious estate agents –’
‘Goodall and Smythe,’ put in Libby, and saw Edward’s eyebrows go up.
‘– to scope out properties for anything that might have occurred in the past that would affect a sale.’
‘I’ve never heard of that,’ said Edward.
‘I hadn’t, either, but in fact, Fran nosed out a body for them in one place. And there were a couple of other instances where she was successful.’
‘So now she helps the police as an expert witness,’ said Libby. ‘And you can scoff all you like, but it’s worked several times. I mean, she’s even discovered murder where a natural death had occurred.’
‘The trouble is,’ said Ben, ‘she can’t do it to order. And she’s out of practice. When she worked for Goodall and Smythe it was routine to go into properties with an open mind regularly, but she’s not required to do that now, so that part of her brain stays switched off.’
‘Except when it breaks through with something startling, like it did with the St Aldeberge murders,’ said Libby.
‘The – what?’ Edward was looking, horrified, between the two of them.
Libby grinned and patted his hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. We’re used to it. I ought to write all the cases up one day, I suppose. People might want to read about them.’
Edward took a large gulp of wine. ‘I know I said I liked your friends, but if you keep getting mixed up in murders, I’m not sure any more!’
‘But that’s why we’re involved this time,’ said Libby. ‘It’s because it’s happened before that we get asked to look into things. Adelaide asked us, although I’m not sure she’s pleased about that, now.’
‘To be fair, you were already on the periphery,’ said Ben, ‘with Adam being on the spot when the first body was found.’
‘Adam?’ said Edward.
‘That’s Adam,’ said Libby.
‘Hello,’ said Adam. ‘I’m Libby’s son. How do you do?’
Edward, bemused, reached out to shake Adam’s hand. ‘And how –?’
‘Well,’ said Edward when she’d finished. He looked at Ben. ‘Did you know all this would happen when you first met Libby?
Ben laughed. ‘Oh, we met years and years ago when we were both married to other people. We hadn’t seen one another for a long time until the theatre brought us together. With a murder, of course.’
Edward shook his head. ‘I’m not sure it’s safe being friends with you.’
‘Oh, you’re safe enough,’ said Libby. ‘It’s when we don’t like you that the problems start.’
Harry and Peter joined them at the end of the meal and Harry offered brandies on the house.
‘I can see that you’re well on the way to becoming one of our happy band,’ he said, handing Edward a brandy balloon. ‘Waifs, strays and misfits, the lot of us.’
‘And what, exactly, does that mean?’ asked Libby.
‘Libby’s Loonies,’ grinned Harry. ‘Think about it. Pete and me, your mate Patti and her Anne, Fran, all Ben and Pete’s mad family …’
‘Don’t take any notice, Edward,’ said Libby. ‘I told you yesterday, he’s just trying to attract attention.’
Edward laughed. ‘I don’t think I’d mind being one of Libby’s Loonies. In fact, I might be honoured.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ said Libby darkly. ‘We haven’t seen the end of this investigation. You’ll probably be glad to scuttle off back to – actually, I don’t know where you’ll scuttle off to.’
‘Oh, I’m still in Leicester at the moment, but I’m a visiting lecturer. I need to find a proper home.’
‘Aren’t you a proper professor, then?’ asked Libby. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit ignorant about academia.’
‘I’m an assistant professor. I need tenure – that is, as I said, a proper home. I’ve already published a fair body of work, and this book – if it ever gets published – should be the finishing touch, and I can apply for full professorships.’
‘Just like an ordinary job, then?’ said Libby.
‘Except that it takes rather longer to qualify,’ said Edward.
‘Well,’ said Libby, ‘here’s to you finding a full professorship in Kent. Then we could borrow you whenever we like.’