‘I’d better go, hadn’t I?’ she said. ‘I’ll make coffee. Do you want anyone else yet?’
‘No, thank you,’ he said. ‘I think this might take both of us.’ And he went across to the two figures facing one another at the other end of the room.
Chapter Five
LIBBY, WARNED NOT TO say anything to anyone, went straight to the kitchen and began assembling tea and coffee trays again.
‘A police investigation runs on tea,’ she said out loud, before carrying the first tray back to the sitting room.
‘They called Hetty in, but Lily Cooper hasn’t come out,’ Ben murmured as he came to help her, ‘but then the young DC went off towards the office. I guess they’ve gone to get the SIO. What happened in there?’
Libby told him. ‘But I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,’ she said under her breath, ‘so don’t let on. And now I’ll go and fetch the other tray. We really should invest in a trolley.’
When she got back, Ben was over in a corner with Sharif; Wallingford was in another with Nick Forrest.
‘Has Lily Cooper still not come out?’ she asked Fran when she came to fetch her coffee. ‘And what about Hetty?’
‘Hetty’s still in there with another officer and Lily was taken off to the office.’ Fran looked round the room. ‘I don’t know what to make of all this. We haven’t actually been involved in a murder case like this, have we?’
‘Ben and I were, and the family. When he first brought you down here.’
‘I suppose so. And I was, a bit, when my aunt died.’
‘Hetty’s not going to be happy.’ Libby handed a cup of tea to a white-haired woman in a padded gilet and pearls.
‘She’ll be fine.’ Ben appeared at her shoulder. ‘I don’t think it’s the SIO who’s in there talking to her. I didn’t recognise him.’
‘I wonder who’s talking to Lily, then?’ said Fran.
‘Don’t know. All I know is I’ve just been grilled thoroughly.’ Ben accepted a cup of coffee.
‘By young Sharif?’ Libby laughed. ‘He was very mild with me.’
‘I think what you told him has made a difference. He asked me a lot about the house and the huts.’
The door to the dining room opened and Hetty came out followed by a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit. He went straight out of the room towards the office and Ben and Libby converged on Hetty.
‘Who was that?’ asked Ben.
‘What did they want to know?’ asked Libby.
‘Come and sit down,’ said Fran.
Hetty sat down and accepted a cup of tea.
‘Where I’d seen that Lily Cooper, who I was, what I was doing. Cor, you’d think I was the bloody murderer.’
‘But you put them straight?’ said Ben.
‘Bloody right. I don’t know who he is, another sergeant, I think, not too pleased at having to talk to me.’
At that moment, the rumpled officer reappeared followed by a harassed-looking, balding man with the vestiges of violently red hair lurking over his ears.
‘Murray,’ whispered Libby.
‘I remember,’ said Hetty grimly.
‘He’s got even less hair now,’ said Ben.
‘Well, it was several years ago now,’ said Libby.
DCI Murray was coming across the room towards them.
‘We meet again, Mrs Sarjeant, Mrs Wilde, Mr Wilde.’
‘Indeed, Mr Murray,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t believe you met Mrs Wolfe last – oh, yes, you did, didn’t you?’
‘When my aunt died,’ confirmed Fran, holding out a hand. ‘But I was Mrs Castle then.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Murray peered at her, eyes narrowed. ‘I must say you manage to get yourselves involved in far too many murder investigations.’
‘We hardly mean to,’ said Libby. ‘And we’re always ready to help if ever we’re asked.’
‘Well, the only help we need right now,’ said Murray, ‘is anything you’ve heard or seen that might help us.’
‘Where’s Lily Cooper?’ asked Fran, realising that she hadn’t come back into the room.
‘In her room, why?’
‘I just wondered,’ said Fran, with a tiny shrug.
‘I take it the dead woman is Patrick Joseph’s wife?’ said Libby.
DCI Murray sighed. ‘You can take what you like, Mrs Sarjeant, but don’t expect me to start giving away information like some others I know. Now, what is supposed to be happening for the rest of this weekend? I gather you’re in charge?’
‘We own the Manor,’ said Ben, ‘and we’re starting to run it as a conference centre. The organiser of this group is actually Mrs Cooper. We’re just providing the premises and the food. Oh, and the guest author.’
‘Patrick Joseph?’
‘No, he was simply one of the guests. It was a reunion, apparently, from a writers’ holiday last year,’ said Libby.
‘So I’ve been told. So what had been set up for the rest of the day?’
‘Well –’ Libby looked at Hetty ‘we were going to serve a cold buffet lunch, but we haven’t got any of the casual staff who we’d booked to come in. And this evening Harry from the restaurant – remember him? – is bringing up a Mexican Feast. Or was.’ She frowned anxiously at DCI Murray. ‘Will he be able to?’
Murray looked thoughtful. ‘If the rest of the guests want to carry on with your plans it would suit me very well,’ he said. ‘And I’ll arrange a police escort for the Mexican Feast. Let me know what time.’
Libby was surprised. ‘Well, thank you,’ she said. ‘Harry was going to bring the food up around seven. It’s another buffet, which is lucky, with no staff, but I expect his partner Peter Parker will help.’
‘I remember Mr Parker and Mr Price perfectly well,’ said Murray, ‘I’m sure I can trust them. And now, Mrs Sarjeant, if I could have a word?’ He held out an arm indicating the dining room once more. Libby sighed.
‘I’m told Mrs Joseph booked in under a false name?’ Murray wasted no time.
‘Yes, and paid by credit card over the phone, so she must have had an account in that name.’
‘And she doesn’t appear on Mrs Cooper’s list?’
‘No, but all the guests booked individually, so the bookings all came in at different times. It never occurred to me that this one wasn’t genuine.’
‘Why do you think she did it?’
Libby was taken aback. ‘I don’t know! I assumed she didn’t want her husband to know she was coming. There was a take-away carton in her room so she planned to keep out of sight.’
‘And you never saw her?’ Now Murray was frowning. ‘How did she check in?’
‘I’ve no idea. I just found her name ticked off on my clipboard and her key gone. How she would have known about the keys I don’t know. Her room number was beside her name on the list, but how did she find the Hoppers’ Huts?’
‘And you’d never met her husband before?’
‘No.’ Libby was getting exasperated. ‘Look, Mr Murray, I’ve told all this to DS Wallingford and DC Sharif already –’
‘But you also told DC Sharif a very important fact,’ interrupted Murray. ‘I’m hoping you might remember another one.’
‘When I first spoke to DS Wallingford I didn’t know Hetty – Mrs Wilde – had seen Mrs Cooper this morning. Or last night, or whenever it was. She only told me when we came back after showing Wallingford the Hoppers’ Huts.’
‘And nobody’s told you anything else since?’
‘No! I’ve only spoken to Ben, Hetty and Fran. None of us know any of the others.’
‘You said you arranged the guest author?’
‘You must have been told all this by now,’ said Libby.
‘I’d like you to tell me again. How do you know her?’
Libby narrowed her eyes at him. ‘DCI Murray,’ she said. ‘I’m quite sure you know all about our little escapade at White Lodge that Inspector Connell investigated, so you know perfectly well how I know Amanda George.’
If this answer discomfited hi
m, DCI Murray didn’t show it, he just grinned.
‘Look,’ said Libby, ‘you know I’ll do everything I can to help, we all will. It’s not as if we don’t know the drill. I won’t interfere –’ Murray’s grin grew broader ‘– and if we find anything out we’ll tell you immediately.’
‘Just don’t get yourself into trouble.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll tell the guests they’re free to carry on with the weekend as planned. I’ve still got to question most of them again, so they couldn’t go, anyway.’
‘How’s Mrs Murray?’ asked Libby as they went to the door.
‘Very well, thank you. She comes to all your productions now.’
‘Does she?’ Libby smiled smugly. ‘Excellent. Tell her we’re doing Cinderella this year.’
Murray made his announcement and then carted Rosie off for questioning. Libby stood and clapped her hands.
‘Mrs George won’t be long, then you can resume the session you were having earlier. We’ll be having a cold buffet lunch as we have no staff, but the Chief Inspector has said there will be no problem with our Mexican meal tonight – in fact he’s going to give it a police escort.’
This raised a ripple of laughter, then one of the women said:
‘Do we know who it is? And how she died? It is a woman, isn’t it?’
Libby, shocked, looked at Ben and Fran. She hadn’t realised that the rest of the guests wouldn’t necessarily have been told who the victim was.
‘Yes, it’s a woman, but I’m afraid I don’t know anything else about her.’ She looked round the room, ‘And, by the way, did any of you meet her yesterday? A woman you haven’t seen since? Only she was ticked off on my clipboard and she’d got hold of her key, so someone must have seen her, or helped her.’
‘The police asked that,’ said Nick Forrest. ‘I don’t think anyone did. And where’s Patrick? He hasn’t come back.’
‘Gone to his room I expect,’ said Libby, feeling a bit hot under the collar. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to help prepare lunch.’
‘Phew!’ she said as she went back into the kitchen. ‘That was close. And I think they all deserve alcohol with their lunch. Have we got enough wine?’
‘If we haven’t I’ll get Harry to bring more when he brings dinner,’ said Ben. ‘What did Murray say to you?’
After ascertaining that no police were occupying the dining room, Libby, Ben and Hetty laid out the buffet, and set wine and beers on the chiffonier as the night before. Libby crept in at the back of the small sitting room, saw Rosie acknowledge her by the slightest move of her head, and slunk out again.
‘There,’ she said to Ben. ‘I’ve done all I can. Now I’d like a drink.’
‘What about them bedrooms,’ said Hetty when they got back to the kitchen. ‘We need to do the bedrooms.’
‘I don’t suppose they’ll let us,’ said Libby. ‘Thank goodness.’
‘Why?’ Hetty raised her eyebrows.
‘The police will want to search the rooms, I expect,’ said Ben.
‘She weren’t killed here,’ said Hetty. ‘She was outside. Anybody coulda done it.’
‘But she was part of this group – even if the rest of them didn’t know, and she was Patrick Joseph’s wife. They’re all suspects, particularly Patrick himself and Lily Cooper.’ Libby sighed. ‘I shall have to get them talking.’
‘Libby!’ warned Ben. ‘You are not to get involved.’
‘I told Donnie Murray I’d help all I could and tell him everything,’ said Libby, her eyes wide. ‘And anyway, I expect Fran will have talked to several of them by now.’
Ben sighed and shook his head.
Libby decided to eat with the guests and when she’d loaded her plate managed to find a chair which she dragged over to where Fran and Rosie were sitting with three of the guests, the lady with the gilet and pearls, whose name was Jennifer Alderton, a younger woman with very long fair hair and a huge smile, who was introduced as Nina Etherington and one of the only other men in the group, apart from Nick Forrest and Patrick Joseph, Daniel Hill, a round man with the grumpy face of a bulldog and a scattering of ash down his knitted waistcoat.
‘So are you all writers?’ asked Libby ingenuously. ‘Sorry, that’s silly, of course you are, or you wouldn’t be here.’
‘We’re all here because we want to write novels,’ said Fran, ‘but some people are already writers in other genres.’
‘Oh?’ Libby smiled round brightly.
‘I write features for the womags,’ said Jennifer, smiling back.
‘The what?’
‘Sorry – the women’s magazine market. We call them the womags.’
‘I write for Scriptus.’ Daniel Hill took a large swallow of his white wine.
‘Ah.’ Libby looked round for help. Jennifer smiled again.
‘Scriptus is a quarterly literary magazine. Daniel’s a contributor.’
‘I see,’ said Libby, thinking that he couldn’t exactly live on an income from that.
‘And you, Nina? What do you write?’
‘I’m trying to write a romantic novel,’ she said. ‘I was really pleased that Amanda was coming to talk to us.’
Rosie smiled. ‘And what I’ve seen of your writing you’re doing very well,’ she said. ‘Pity you live too far away to come to my classes.’
‘So you don’t write for magazines or anything like that?’ said Fran.
‘Oh, no! I work for a vet.’ Nina gave her lovely wide smile again.
‘And you all met at the writers’ holiday and kept in touch? That’s great.’
Daniel Hill grunted and finished his wine, before standing up and waddling over to the chiffonier.
‘What did I say?’ said Libby.
‘He only came because he was trying to get Patrick Joseph to get him in with his publisher,’ said Nina. ‘He’s a horrible old man.’
Jennifer shook her head. ‘I’m afraid that’s right. Last time he just attached himself to Patrick as though he was on an equal footing with him, boasting about what he’d done. Patrick was too nice to slap him down, which he should have done, but he tried to avoid him as much as possible.’
‘Not only him,’ muttered Nina, looking down at her plate.
‘Writers do get lionised a bit, Nina,’ said Rosie, ‘although usually only by other writers.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean –’ Nina looked, looking confused. ‘But some writers are jealous, aren’t they? They think they should have been published, or sold more or something and they resent the successful ones.’
Rosie looked quickly at Libby and Fran. ‘Yes, that does happen sometimes. But no one here’s like that are they?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ said Nina, but they all knew that she probably could.
Chapter Six
‘SO WHAT’S REALLY GOING on here?’ said Libby as Fran helped her carry dirty plates into the kitchen. ‘Somebody’s jealous? Resentful? Nina thinks so, and that Daniel Hill, revolting though he is, obviously does too.’
‘More likely he’s the jealous resentful one,’ said Fran.
‘And when I saw Nick Forrest with Patrick this morning it didn’t look much like a friendly chat, either,’ said Libby. ‘Although maybe I’m thinking that with hindsight.’
‘Anyway,’ said Fran, beginning to load plates into the dishwasher, Hetty having finally conceded that washing up for this many people was best left to others, ‘whoever’s resentful or jealous the target of that resentment and jealousy is surely Patrick. So why wasn’t he murdered?’
Libby frowned. ‘His wife was murdered to get at him?’
‘I can’t see that being the case,’ said Fran. ‘Do we know how she was killed?’
‘No. And she was out in the open, too. Could you mistake her for someone else in the dark? Perhaps the killer thought it was Patrick?’
‘He’s quite a big man. I don’t see how, unless she was a very big woman.’
‘I wish we could ask someone,’ said Libby, viciously scrubbing a serving
dish too big for the dishwasher. ‘We’ve always been able to before. People have known.’
‘We’ll just have to talk to all the guests,’ said Fran. ‘Perhaps you ought to stay over tonight? There’s room isn’t there?’
‘Ben’s still got his old room.’ Libby looked up from the sink. ‘That’s a good idea, actually, Fran.’
‘The police will probably let everyone go tomorrow, and I can’t see anyone wanting to stay on longer than necessary, so we’ve only got tonight.’
‘To do what?’ Libby grinned at her. ‘Solve the crime?’
Fran went faintly pink. ‘Well, yes, actually. I mean, we can’t go charging off all over the country to talk to these people. The police can, but we can’t.’
‘That’s true.’ Libby looked thoughtfully out of the window over the fields. ‘Perhaps we’re just going to have to let it go. I can’t see how we can get involved with this one after today.’
‘That’s not like you,’ said Fran.
‘I know. Perhaps I’m getting sensible in my old age.’ Libby perched on the edge of the table. ‘When do you think the police will let the others know it was Patrick’s wife who was murdered?’
‘No idea. He didn’t come in for lunch, did he?’
‘That young uniformed constable came and fetched plates of food for Patrick and Lily Cooper.’ Libby stopped, struck. ‘Goodness. Do you suppose that means they’ve arrested Lily Cooper?’
‘Well, she was wandering about at night – or was it early morning? And we think she was having an affair with Patrick.’
‘A fling, we thought,’ said Libby. ‘A one-night stand last time they met which she wants to turn into a full-blown relationship.’
‘We don’t know that for certain.’
‘We could ask young Nina. She knows more than she’s letting on.’
‘Or thinks she does,’ said Fran. ‘She’s much younger than all the others. She may not have been taken into their confidence.’
‘That’s a thought,’ said Libby. ‘If he’s such a womaniser, why didn’t he go for Nina instead of settling for Lily?’
‘What was it Rosie said last night? Lily was the only one who responded? Some of the younger ones didn’t take his celebrity status seriously?’
Murder at the Manor - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series Page 4