‘Pacemaker,’ corrected Sophie. ‘We don’t use them at this level. But I think Lisa ran on her own mostly. She was a bit obsessive. Posted her mileage every day on social media, you know?’
‘Could we look that up?’ asked Libby.
‘You wouldn’t be able to see it,’ said Sophie. ‘You aren’t friends with her.’
‘But you are,’ said Fran.
‘We’re both in the Harriers’ group,’ said Sophie, ‘so, yes. I could try.’
She pulled her laptop towards her. ‘Don’t stand over me,’ she said as both older women stood up. They sat down again.
‘Here you are. We’re not actually friends on here, and her profile is heavily protected, but I can see some of her friends.’
She read and scrolled for a moment.‘Yes – she seems to be friends with a couple of the Harriers – Davy Long and Kirsty Trent.’ She looked up. ‘Do you want to meet them?’
Libby looked at Fran. ‘Do we?’
‘If we can do it without triggering suspicion,’ said Fran.
‘I think that’s going to happen however you do it,’ said Sophie. ‘I think the best thing you can do is to come to the pub with me this evening.’
‘Which pub? Why?’ asked Libby.
‘The Sergeant At Arms. It’s in one of the backstreets and it’s the Harriers’ regular meeting place. Stevecalled an extra meeting tonight about Lisa.’
‘Who’s Steve?’
‘Our chair, Steve Reid.You know – the ogre.’
‘Ogre? Oh, yes, the one who was having the Indian meal the other day.’ Libby looked back at Fran. ‘So, do we go?’
‘I think so. I’m not going to rest until we’ve looked into this.’
Libby and Sophie looked at each other.
‘That’s a first,’ said Libby. ‘It’s usually me saying that.’
‘And then saying you want nothing to do with it,’ said Fran with a smile. She stood up. ‘Thanks for your help, Sophie. What time tonight?’
‘Eight-ish. It won’t be formal. Bring Dad and Ben, if you like.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Libby, when they were outside.
‘It’ll give us a chance to meet them,’ said Fran, pushing open the door of Guy’s shop and gallery. ‘Let’s ask Guy.’
But Guy was wary. ‘By all means bring Ben down and we can go for a pint at The Sloop, but I’m not going sleuthing with you in this – what did you say it was called?’
‘The Sergeant At Arms. Funny name for a pub,’ said Libby.
‘No sillier than “I Am The Only Running Footman”, or “The Case Is Altered”,’ said Fran. ‘So do you think Libby and I should go, Guy?’
‘Are you really asking my opinion?’ Guy looked closely at his wife.
‘Yes. I do take your advice, you know.’
‘Sometimes,’ he said and gave her a quick hug. ‘What do you think, Libby?’
‘I’m not sure. It’ll feel like barging in. And they won’t want to talk to us.’
Sophie appeared from the back stairs which led between the flat and the shop.
‘I’ve just thought,’ she said. ‘What about GPS?’
The other three stared at her blankly.
‘Eh?’ said Libby.
‘GPS,’ repeated Sophie. ‘We all use it. Well, most of us who are serious do. We have tracker watches, or the app on our phones. Some of us even have trackers in our trainers.’
Fran frowned. ‘What for?’
‘To see how far we’ve run, how fast we did a section – all sorts of things. Sometimes we post the map on social media. There are lots of apps, and we can find out our own stats. Like muscle use, speed –’
‘Whoa!’ said Libby. ‘What on earth do you need all that for?’
It was Sophie’s turn to frown. ‘We have to keep on top of our bodies. Know what we can and can’t do.’
Libby looked helplessly at Fran and shook her head. Guy merely looked amused.
‘What use would it be in finding her?’ asked Fran.
Sophie looked surprised. ‘You could find out where she was, of course.’
‘But – she’d have her tracking device – whatever it was – on her. How would anyone know how to access that?’ asked Libby.
‘It would be synced –’ Sophie narrowed her eyes at her stepmother ‘– you do know what that means, don’t you?’ Fran nodded. ‘Well, it’s all synced up. And probably uploaded to the cloud as well.’
Guy, Fran and Libby all stared.
‘I suppose,’ said Libby, pulling herself together, ‘the police probably know all this and will be looking at it.’
‘It depends where it was uploaded,’ said Sophie. ‘If she only had it on her phone or her watch, no one would be able to get at it, as Libby just said.’
‘Should we mention it to anyone?’ asked Fran. ‘And do we know Lisa definitely used one of these systems?’
‘Oh, yes, she was fanatical about detailing her routes, calories burned – all that stuff.’
‘Calories?’ said Libby faintly.
Sophie grinned. ‘You wouldn’t believe it!’
‘I don’t,’ said Libby. ‘But I suppose it’s like any obsession.’
‘Except that this one is supposed tobe for the sake of a healthy body,’ said Guy. ‘If I were you, I’d leave it unless Ian or someone else asks you. You’ve tried to tell him things before only to find he already knew them. And this is one of those things he’s almost bound to know.’
‘They’ll have taken her computer away by now,’ said Libby, ‘so if there was anything there, they’ll have found it.’
‘Exactly,’ said Guy. ‘And you can ask the club members tonight if they’ve been asked about their own systems, can’t you.’
‘I haven’t yet,’ said Sophie. ‘I don’t know about the others.’
‘Why would they ask the other members?’ asked Libby.
‘To see if any of them had deviated from the route and made off with Lisa, of course,’ said Guy.
Libby, Fran and Sophie gasped.
‘Dad! You’re so devious!’ said Sophie.
‘I never thought of that,’ said Fran. ‘But in that case, why did he take me up to the cliff path this morning?’
‘He might see a strange route on paper – or screen – but you might be able to tell him why,’ said Guy. ‘Anyway, it looks as though he hasn’t got round to that yet.’
‘So we’ll go,’ said Libby to Fran. ‘Shall I pick you up here?’
‘We’ll walk,’ said Sophie firmly. ‘You can leave the car here.
When Libby got home she called Ben at the Manor estate office to ask if he wanted a trip to Nethergate that night.
‘I’ve only just come back!’ he said. ‘I’ll give it a miss, if you don’t mind. What is it you want to do?’
Libby explained, adding Sophie’s explanations about GPS systems and Guy’s surprising deductions.
‘He’s been rubbing shoulders with you two too much,’ said Ben, laughing. ‘Where’s Adam at the moment? If he’s got a system on his phone he could show you.’
‘I’ll call him,’ said Libby. ‘See you later.’
However, Adam was out on his other job, working with his friend Mog the garden designer at a minor stately home the other side of Ashford.
‘No,’ he said, in answer to his mother’s query, ‘I haven’t got any kind of app. I only started doing this recently – I haven’t really got into it yet. Good idea of Sophie’s, though.’
‘Oh, very,’ said Libby dryly.
When Ben arrived late in the afternoon, they had an early supper and Libby was back on the road by seven. Harbour Street was full, so once again, Libby had to use the Blue Anchor’s car park. Sophie and Fran were waiting for her at Coastguard Cottage.
‘It’s not far,’ said Sophie. ‘Just up the high street and turn left.’
‘It would be up the high street,’ said Libby gloomily. ‘Your high street is far too steep for comfort.’
‘Just think what i
t’s like to run up it!’ said Sophie with a grin.
‘Ooh, don’t.’ Libby shuddered.
Sophie moderated her pace to Libby’s amble and they set off towards the high street.
‘Did you tell anyone we were coming?’ asked Fran.
‘I told Steve. And I asked him about the GPS apps. He seemed to think we should tell the DCI about them.’
‘I can’t believe the police haven’t thought of it,’ said Libby. ‘I looked them up online this afternoon and they’re all over the place. And the police themselves use tracking devices, so they’re bound to know.’
‘If he decides to do it, we’re off the hook.’ said Fran. ‘Hurry up, Libby, it’s nearly eight.’
The Sergeant At Arms was a narrow-fronted pub that listed slightly to one side and looked as if it belonged to a century before Nethergate had grown into a seaside resort.
‘They’ll be upstairs,’ said Sophie, making for a worn staircase in the corner of the crowded bar.
Upstairs, a coat rack stood in the tiny hallway, which opened out into a reasonable sized room with a bar at the other end. A large table stood in the middle, around which sat about twenty people.
‘This is my stepmother, Fran Wolfe,’ began Sophie, ‘and this is Libby Sarjeant. Steve said they could come along. They –’
‘We know who they are,’ said a large, unsmiling woman at the end of the table.
‘I thought they might help find Lisa.’ Sophie started again.
‘And I agreed.’ A balding, fit-looking man stood up. ‘I’m Steve,’ he said with a non-ogre-like smile. ‘And this afternoon, I got in touch with that Detective – Connell, is his name? –and told him I thought they ought to look through all our GPS apps after Sophie mentioned it.’ He laughed and sat down again. ‘I think he thought I was being naive.’
‘Why?’ asked Fran.
‘He said they’d already started.’
Chapter Six
‘Told you so,’ Libby muttered under her breath.
Various comments were being thrown about among the Harriers, some indignant, some approving.
‘But how?’ One voice rose above the others. ‘We haven’t given them our phones.’
‘Social media, bet you, Davy.’ A young woman with a fresh complexion and a pint glass spoke up.
‘The Harriers’ page,’ said Steve. ‘Quite right, Kirsty. You all post your runs on there, don’t you?’
‘I shall think twice about that in future,’ said Davy, sounding grumpy.
‘What do you want to drink?’ asked Sophie, under cover of the burst of chatter this remark provoked.
‘Tonic, please,’ said Libby gloomily.
‘Dry white, please,’ said Fran, with a smug glance at her friend.
They found seats near Steve, who beamed at them.
‘So you thought of checking the trackers?’
‘No, it was Sophie,’ said Fran. ‘I’m afraid we knew nothing about them.’
‘Oh.’ Steve looked slightly bewildered, as if he couldn’t believe there were people in the world who knew nothing about the running community.
‘But you’re involved in looking for her?’ he continued after a moment.
‘Only peripherally,’ said Fran, standing on Libby’s foot.
‘But you’ve looked into things before, haven’t you? That body on the island? And the people trafficking? And that body over at Creekmarsh?’
‘Er – yes.’ Libby cleared her throat and accepted her tonic water from Sophie.
‘Have the police asked you to help?’ The woman named Kirsty leant forward. ‘They’ve asked you before, haven’t they?’
‘It isn’t normally the police who ask,’ began Libby.
‘But you’ve got this special gift, haven’t you?’ Davy now butted in, looking somewhat belligerent.
Fran turned pink, shrugged and sipped her wine.
‘Well, we’d like you to look into it, wouldn’t we?’ Steve looked round the table at his members, some of whom nodded, some said ‘Hear, hear’ and some looked blank.
‘We don’t really know much about Lisa,’ Libby said hastily, before any arguments could break out. ‘Kirsty and Davy, Sophie thought you were friends with her.’
Davy shook his head, looking wary.
‘Only on social media, really,’ said Kirsty. ‘She didn’t seem to socialise much. Obsessed with the sport, it seemed to me.’
‘So no one knew if she had other friends?’ asked Fran, now recovered.
Kirsty shook her head. ‘Even on social media she had so many privacy settings you never saw anyone else. I only ever saw her interact with members here.’ She turned to the rest of her table companions. ‘Anyone else friends with Lisa outside of the Harriers?’
Everyone shook their heads.
‘Anyone live near her? Share lifts?’ Libby asked.
‘I did, once.’ A man of about fifty at the other end of the table lifted his hand. ‘I live in Bishops Bottom and she lives in Shott. My car wouldn’t start one evening and I had to ask her for a lift.’ He grinned. ‘You would have thought I was asking her to sell herself. But she didn’t have much choice in front of everybody.’
‘No one went to her house, then?’ said Fran.
‘I delivered something to her a few months ago,’ said Kirsty. ‘Newsletter, was it, Steve?’
‘Race lanyards,’ said Steve.
‘You didn’t go in?’
‘No. I didn’t even see her. I had to push them through the letterbox.’
‘Nice house?’ asked Libby.
‘Charming, actually,’ said Kirsty with a grin. ‘I was really surprised. A detached cottage, with a really pretty front garden. At least, it looked as though it would be in the summer.’
‘And she lives alone? What about the husband? Apparently there is one,’ said Fran.
‘Really?’ Eyebrows were raised all around the table. This had obviously come as a surprise.
‘How long has she been a member?’ asked Libby.
The committee members looked at each other.
‘A year?’ said Steve.
‘More like eighteen months,’ said Sophie.
‘And you knew nothing about her private life? Nobody ever came to watch her run?’
‘The only thing we knew about was when she moved,’ said Sophie. ‘She had to give us her change of address.’
‘When was that?’ asked Fran.
‘Where from?’ asked Libby.
‘She was in Canterbury. It must have been late last summer when she moved.’
‘I wonder if she left the husband behind in Canterbury,’ Libby said to Fran.
Steve was frowning. ‘I must say, I’m surprised,’ he said. ‘She seemed to run every day. I don’t know how she had time for a husband. She worked, as well.’
‘What at?’ asked Libby.
Steve looked vague. ‘Office, somewhere?’
‘I think she worked from home,’ said Davy. ‘We had a rare chat one day about broadband connection in the villages, and she was saying how difficult it was for work.’
‘Did she only run with the Harriers?’ asked Fran.
‘No.’ Kirsty shook her head. ‘She ran every weekend with us, and sometimes during the week, but she ran her own routes nearer to home. I suppose I assumed that was why she’d moved, because there are more places to run in the country than on city pavements.’
‘She told you that, did she?’ said Libby.
‘Not that that was why she’d moved, she just said it was much better running round the villages than in Canterbury.’
‘So, a woman of mystery,’ said Libby. ‘Funny, isn’t it, in this day and age when all our details are available for practically everyone to find out.’
‘It looks deliberate,’ said Fran.
‘Well, of course it’s deliberate – you don’t hide yourself away by accident, do you?’
‘I meant there must be a reason, not just a dislike of other people. If it was that, she would hardly have join
ed a running club, would she? It’s a sport you can most definitely do on your own.’
‘Although it’s more fun with someone,’ said Sophie. ‘That’s why Ad’s been running with me for the last few months.’
Steve leant forward and looked round the table again. ‘Anyone else got anything to tell these ladies about Lisa? Something you haven’t told the police?’
‘They haven’t spoken to all of us,’ said someone.
‘They will,’ said Libby. ‘Give them time.’
The talk turned to the merits of various tracking systems, and Sophie sat back in her chair.
‘That wasn’t much help, was it?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘We know where she lives, now. Ian wouldn’t have told us.’
‘You can hardly go poking around there,’ said Fran, ‘and there wouldn’t be anything to see anyway.’
‘Such a pity no one really became friends with her,’ said Libby.
‘I thought so, too,’ said a voice behind her.
Everyone turned to look at the young man hovering diffidently beside the bar.
‘Did you know her better than the others, then?’ asked Libby.
He went faintly pink. ‘No, not really. We occasionally ran together. She was always nice to me.’
Out of the corner of her eye Libby saw Sophie’s eyebrows shoot up.
‘Well, it’s nice to hear someone saying something good about her,’ said Fran. ‘I’m Fran.’ She held out a hand.
‘Roly,’ said the young man, turning pinker and taking the proffered hand.
‘Hello, Roly, I’m Libby.’ Libby in turn held out her hand. ‘Did you live near her like Davy?’
‘Itching,’ said Roly, ‘the other side of Shott. We used to do a circuit of the two villages.’
‘I wonder why she didn’t do it with Davy?’ said Sophie.
‘I don’t know.’ Roly shrugged. ‘We just happened to meet one morning on the road between our two villagesand fell into the habit. She never seemed stand-offish to me, like she did to the others.’
‘Did you ever go to her house?’ asked Libby.
‘Oh, no!’ Roly looked shocked. ‘We always ran in the morning, you see, and never at weekends because we came here, then. So we always had to go to work.’
Libby opened her mouth to say “But she worked from home,” and thought better of it.
Murder on the Run Page 4