Ian was already closeted in the estate office with Ben when Libby arrived at nine forty-five the next morning.
‘Shall I go and get coffee?’ she asked.
‘Mum’s on the case,’ said Ben.
‘I’ll go and give her a hand, then.’
‘No, Libby, please sit down,’ said Ian, ‘it’ll give me a chance to talk to you without Fran.’
Libby looked alarmed.
‘Nothing serious,’ Ian soothed, ‘I just wanted to know if Fran had any of her – what is it you call them? Moments? – Since I last saw you. She’s sometimes not inclined to tell me.’
‘Because she still thinks you might not believe her.’ Libby pulled a chair up to the desk and sat down.
‘You know I take her seriously,’ said Ian. ‘So, did she?’
Libby frowned. ‘Well, she thought she saw Melanie drinking something. That was before we went away. I don’t know how she knew it was Melanie, because she’d never seen her. Then, she thought something had happened at this place in Rising Parva.’
‘The monument?’ said Ian.
‘Oh, you know about that?’ said Libby. ‘Actually, it’s a henge, and a recently discovered standing stone. Melanie was making a bit of a fuss about it.’
‘Yes, we know about that. And the fact that one of your guests had demonstrated there. Against Melanie.’
‘Not so much against her personally, I don’t think,’ said Libby.’
‘But she was the personification of what they were up against,’ said Ian.
‘Yes, perhaps. Anyway, there were two groups against her for that. The druids, or whoever they were, and the archaeologists.’
‘So Fran was feeling something of that?’ asked Ian.
‘She didn’t say so. She said something nasty had happened, I think, but she didn’t explain. Then she felt there was something emanating from Patrick when we saw him on Saturday. But I said that was probably because his wife had been murdered.’
‘And how did you think he seemed?’
‘A bit – diminished. He certainly appears devastated. We were very surprised that he should have asked to see us. In fact –’ Libby stopped and looked at Ben.
‘Yes? In fact what?’ Ian leant forward.
‘We were wondering if it wasn’t a put-up job. Asking us there.’
Ian leant back again. ‘I would have wondered that too. So he did actually ask you?’
‘We’d already met Jennifer, who had suggested we go down to Rising Parva.’
‘Why?’ Ian was frowning.
‘She seemed convinced that Melanie’s death was something to do with the henge, or the standing stone, or both. She knew somehow about Fran’s – um – gift, and she thought she – Fran – would pick up something that would help.’ Libby looked at Ben again. ‘I’m afraid we’ve begun to get suspicious about her, though.’
Ian sighed. ‘Start at the beginning. No, wait. We’ll have coffee and you can tell me when Fran’s here.’
On cue, the door opened and Fran ushered Hetty and a large tray into the room.
‘And now,’ said Ian, when coffee had been poured and distributed and Hetty had retired to her kitchen, ‘you can start with Jennifer’s invitation, why you went and what you found. And don’t,’ he said with a warning look, ‘leave anything out.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
IT TOOK HALF AN hour for Fran and Libby to relate the events of three days in Dorset, especially as each of them spent some time correcting the other.
‘So who complained about us?’ Libby finished up.
‘No one. Patrick told me he’d seen you when I called him to ask for another interview.’
‘He said he’d wondered why nobody had been in touch,’ said Fran.
‘Scotland Yard were too busy chasing their tails over a political motive,’ said Ian.
‘And have they given up on that?’ asked Libby.
‘I doubt it. They’ll be trawling through all the suspects they questioned or suspected when the bomb incident happened.’
‘And the death threats?’ said Ben.
‘And the death threats.’ Ian picked up the coffee pot hopefully, and put it down again.
‘I’ll get some more,’ said Libby.
‘In a minute,’ said Ian. ‘One of the things Scotland Yard have been doing is looking into links any of last weekend’s guests might have had to the previous events.’
‘Well, we knew that.’ said Libby. ‘Some of them received phone calls.’
‘But what about the business of the protestors at the henge?’ asked Fran. ‘Weren’t Scotland Yard interested in that?’
‘You think that had something to do with the murder?’ Ian looked interested.
‘I don’t know. Jennifer seems to think so.’
‘You thought something nasty had happened up on the henge, didn’t you?’ said Libby. ‘Could it be that?’
Fran shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘The other thing is how Melanie got here,’ said Libby, turning back to Ian.
‘We have thought of that, Libby,’ said Ian with a smile. ‘We’ve now set in motion a forensic check on all the cars. Should have been done before, but not realising that she’d been dead longer than we thought didn’t help. That’s why I called Patrick yesterday. All the local forces will be contacting the guests.’
‘So nothing we did is going to hinder or help?’ said Fran.
‘If you’d mentioned Melanie drinking something earlier it might have done. Tox screen came back finally.’
‘And?’ prompted Libby.
‘Was she poisoned?’ said Fran.
‘No, she was suffocated as far as the scientists can tell. I’m sure you remember, Fran, the difficulties there.’
‘Aunt Eleanor, yes.’ Fran stared into the past. ‘But why would my mentioning drinking helped?’
‘Because she was given ketamine first.’
‘Oh, God.’ Libby shook her head. ‘This gets worse.’
‘So our murderer really planned this,’ said Fran. ‘It wasn’t a spur of the moment thing where the body had to be dumped somewhere.’
‘No. So it was someone who knew her quite well,’ said Ian.
‘But that’s only Patrick and Jennifer,’ said Libby. ‘No one else knew her. That’s what we’ve been trying to find out.’
‘Either someone’s lying or it’s someone who wasn’t here as a guest last weekend,’ said Ben.
‘Well, obviously someone’s lying – the murderer is for a start, if he or she was here,’ said Ian, ‘but finding someone who could have planned this and knew enough about this venue who wasn’t here will be frankly Herculean.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ asked Libby.
‘I had hoped you might have come up with something,’ said Ian, ‘but as you haven’t, I’m afraid it’s going to be a descent on Dorset to dig up all her friends and acquaintances.’
‘Patrick’s dinner party circuit,’ said Libby.
‘What?’ asked Ian and Ben together. Libby explained.
‘He almost seemed to despise them,’ said Fran.
‘Jennifer was part of the same circle we think,’ Libby said, ‘so she’ll be able to give you names and addresses if Patrick doesn’t.’
‘She’ll probably know more of them than Patrick anyway,’ said Fran. ‘Pity we didn’t ask while we were down there.’
‘I don’t see how you could,’ said Ian. ‘You aren’t the police.’
‘No, we know.’ Libby sighed. ‘I do find it so frustrating.’
‘I daresay.’ Ian gave her a wry smile. ‘Now, did you say something about more coffee?’
Libby took the tray back to the kitchen where Hetty shooed her out and promised to bring fresh coffee in five minutes.
‘So will you go down there yourself?’ she asked on returning to the office.
‘I shall have to. I’m taking DS Wallingford with me, but we can’t afford to take anyone else. I’ll have to rely on good relations
with the local force and hope they can spare me a couple of people.’
‘I was going to call Jennifer today because I wanted information about the museum,’ said Fran. ‘I assume I don’t say anything about this?’
‘If she’s in touch with Patrick she’ll know,’ said Ian. ‘I’ve already booked in to see him tomorrow morning. We’re going down this afternoon.’
‘Couldn’t you have seen him sooner? He’s got longer to get his story right, or hide the evidence if you don’t see him until tomorrow,’ said Libby.
Ian laughed. ‘As I spoke to him yesterday he’s already had plenty of time, and I’m pretty sure he’ll have told Jennifer.’
‘Unless he’s avoiding her,’ said Fran. ‘He looked rather as though he was getting a bit fed up with being mothered when we saw him Saturday morning.’
‘That’s true,’ Libby agreed, ‘and she’s not as much in his confidence as she thinks she is. Will you try and see Daniel Hill?’
‘I certainly shall.’ Ian grinned. ‘I shall encourage him to make a complaint about you.’
Hetty appeared with a refreshed tray, interrupting Libby’s indignant response.
‘Who will do the forensic examination on the cars?’ asked Fran, bringing them back to the subject. ‘You or the Dorset force?’
‘Dorset, but we’ll have to have it on our budget, probably,’ said Ian. ‘If one of the cars turns anything up then it will be brought back to Kent for further tests.’
‘Surely something will turn up,’ said Libby. ‘Melanie had to get here somehow, especially as she couldn’t do it under her own steam.’ She thought for a moment. ‘And what about that credit card? Did you find out about that?’
‘Yes, and it was hers, issued by the MOD.’
‘Ministry of Defence?’ said Fran. ‘Why them?’
‘I don’t know. Spooks keep themselves to themselves. She was once a person of considerable interest to certain sections of society and had a few aliases. That’s where Scotland Yard are snooping around now. The MOD are keeping an eye on them.’
‘Heavens above!’ said Libby. ‘A crime of national importance.’
‘It does seem more likely, then,’ said Fran, ‘that the murderer is somehow connected to that part of her life.’
‘Certainly, rather than being murdered because she was someone’s wife,’ said Ian.
‘That’s what we’ve said all along,’ said Libby. ‘At first glance it looked as if the only people with a motive were Patrick himself and Lily Cooper. Now it looks as though it’s only Patrick and Jennifer Alderton.’
‘Let’s hope we can find a link somewhere, then,’ said Ian.
‘Preferably a car with traces of her in the boot,’ said Libby.
Ian finished his second cup of coffee and stood up. ‘Sorry to bother you even further, but can I have another look round the hut where Melanie stayed?’
‘Help yourself,’ said Ben. ‘Have you still got a key?’
Ian produced it out of his pocket. ‘I’ll have to get SOCOs in to have another go at the ground, too, if that’s all right. Now we know she must have been transported we need to find traces of the vehicle, although that’ll be nigh impossible after over a week.’
‘And we’ve had rain,’ said Fran.
‘And I’ve never believed in the sort of detective who finds a thread of cotton on a twig and immediately recognises it as coming from the victim’s coat,’ sniffed Libby.
‘But she does believe in a batty woman who has visions,’ smiled Fran. Ian smiled back at her.
‘Can we come?’ asked Libby, as Ian made to leave the office.
‘I suppose so, but keep out of the way.’
Libby turned to Ben and gave him a quick kiss. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
He patted her hand. ‘Course not. Should I be expecting you to disappear back to Dorset tonight?’
‘I’d love to – apart from leaving you, of course – but I don’t think Ian would be very pleased!’
Fran and Libby plodded behind Ian as he made his way slowly towards the Hoppers’ Huts, his eyes on the ground.
‘Ben wanted to know if we were going back to Dorset,’ said Libby. ‘I said Ian wouldn’t like it.’
‘I was thinking that myself,’ said Fran. ‘I’d like to go to the museum and see what I can find out about the henge.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
They stopped and looked at one another.
‘And do we tell Ian?’ asked Libby.
‘I think we have to,’ said Fran. ‘And I think it would be better if we stayed somewhere nearer to the museum so we can be right out of his way.’
‘Or even in that nice hotel in Wimborne?’ said Libby.
They both turned to look at Ian who was by now a long way ahead.
‘Come on,’ said Fran. ‘Let’s go and tell him.’
Chapter Twenty-nine
UNSURPRISINGLY, IAN DIDN’T SEEM enthusiastic about the return to Dorset.
‘I suppose I can’t stop you,’ he said, ‘but don’t come near me or anyone I’m talking to. Museum – fine. If you want to investigate that henge, ask me first.’
‘As we don’t know exactly where he’ll be, we can’t get near him, can we?’ muttered Libby as she and Fran went back to the Manor.
‘You know what he means,’ said Fran. ‘Now we’d better break the news to our better halves that we’re going away again.’
‘And find somewhere to stay. Remember Mrs Rush said she was full up from Saturday? It’s summer holiday time, so I doubt there’ll be much available.’
Leaving Ian to ferret about around the Hoppers’ Huts until his SOCOs arrived, there was very little available, they discovered on the internet in the estate office, but strangely, the Barley Mow in Ebbesdean had two rooms.
‘Had a cancellation, dear,’ said the female voice on the other end of the phone. ‘Family’s got measles. Poor sods. Do you know where we are?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Libby. ‘We had fish and chips with you last Friday.’
‘Did you?’ The voice sounded pleased. ‘You’ll know we do good food then. So, when are you coming?’
Guy, less sanguine about the repeat visit than Ben, had asked that they didn’t go until the following day. Fran went back to Nethergate to soothe her spouse and Libby promised Ben an extra-special meal that evening to compensate for her further absence.
‘Not that it does, of course,’ he said several hours later, sitting down to a selection of home-made curries. ‘If I had to make a choice, I’d have you over the curry.’
‘That sounds uncomfortable,’ said Libby.
The following morning, Fran parked her little car behind Libby’s Romeo the Renault and transferred her luggage into Ben’s four by four.
‘He says it’s much more comfortable for a long journey,’ said Libby. ‘And we can take more.’
‘You can,’ said Fran. ‘I’ve only got what I was taking anyway.’
‘It does mean I’ll be doing all the driving,’ said Libby, ‘so we won’t be going out much in the evenings.’
Fran laughed. ‘Of course we won’t! Anyway, we’re staying in a pub this time. Shall we tell young Nick we’re going to be there?’
‘We’d better, because I think the Barley Mow may be his local and he might be peeved if we show up without warning him.’
‘And he said he’d like to help, didn’t he?’ said Fran. ‘Although I don’t know how.’
‘He knows the area,’ said Libby. ‘Come on, let’s go and say goodbye to Ben and then we can be on our way.’
The journey this time was accomplished in better time and in sunshine. Libby did take a wrong turning once they left the main road, but found her way back fairly quickly, and soon they were approaching Ebbesdean in its little hollow once again.
They were in time for a late lunch at the Barley Mow, which was much quieter than it had been the previous Friday. The landlady, a voluptuous blonde, was pleased to see them.
‘Can’t be doing with losing bookings these days, dear,’ she said. ‘Manna from heaven, you two.’
‘Thank you,’ said Libby. ‘Mrs – er?’
‘Just call me Yvonne. Now the kitchen’s not closed, so what will you have?’
Settled outside with sandwiches and drinks, Libby and Fran reviewed their plans.
‘I think we should tell Ian where we’re staying,’ said Fran. ‘Just so he knows we’re doing as we’re told.’
‘OK, and leave a message for Nick Forrest. Then what?’
‘Ask Yvonne about the museum. Then, if it’s open, we can go there.’
Yvonne herself came out to collect their plates. There was no sign of last Friday’s handmaiden.
‘Museum?’ she said. ‘Well, there’s the one in Salisbury, or there’s ours, look.’ And she nodded across the road.
‘Chancery House?’ Fran said in surprise. ‘We saw something about that on the internet. I didn’t realise it was a museum.’
‘Oh, it’s more than a museum.’ Yvonne perched herself on a bench beside them and fished out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Don’t mind, do you? Don’t get much of a chance.’
‘No, I’ll join you,’ said Libby. ‘Go on, what about Chancery House?’
‘It’s what they call a living museum,’ said Yvonne, settling down more comfortably. ‘You know, places all set up and working just like it used to be in the old days. They got what they call “rescued” buildings and they teach things like woodwork. Very popular.’
‘Is it open today?’ Libby looked across at the closed gates.
‘Yeah, every day. But that’s not the main entrance. You have to go along the lane here and round the bend.’
‘Do they have any prehistoric stuff?’ said Libby.
‘Stone age, you mean?’ Yvonne wrinkled her pencilled eyebrows.
‘Well, yes. You know, like –’ Libby frowned.
‘Flint weapons,’ supplied Fran. ‘That sort of thing.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t know about that, dear. I’ve only been in there when they do village events. They have a fête and a Christmas fair, see?’
‘Do they have any local history exhibits?’ asked Fran. ‘About the area? Or would we have to go to Salisbury for that?’
Murder at the Manor - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series Page 20