Murder on the Run

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘I find that odd, too. I mean – why all this confiding in Roly, when the rest of the Harriers knew next to nothing about her, and she kept herself to herself so much.’

  ‘I expect we’re over-thinking this now,’ said Libby. ‘Let’s just forget it for today, then we can see if Prof Andrew knows anything about the Court tomorrow. I’ve got to go and get ready for lunch at Hetty’s now.’

  ‘Already?’ said Fran. ‘I thought you didn’t have to be there until one?’

  ‘Half past twelve today, as she wants us all to have a drink together first. It would have been Greg’s birthday.’

  ‘Ah.’ The late Greg Wilde was sadly missed.

  ‘So I’ll hear from you tomorrow, shall I?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll call you after I’ve spoken to him. Give my love to Hetty.’

  ‘Goodness, Fran’s got the bit between her teeth on this one,’ Libby said to Ben on her way through the sitting room.

  ‘And of course, you aren’t encouraging her, are you?’ Ben didn’t look up from his newspaper.

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Libby paused. ‘Well, no more than I can help.’

  As well as Ben and Libby, Peter and his brother James, sons of Hetty’s sister Millie (now resident in a luxury home for the bewildered), and Lenny and Flo were also gathered in the large sitting room at the Manor. Hetty brought out champagne and they all toasted Greg, who, said Ben, was the whole reason most of them were here in Steeple Martin.

  ‘Hetty came down here because of him, Flo followed and married Frank Carpenter, Millie grew up here and married Dr David, and Pete and I just gravitated back.’

  ‘I’m not, though,’ said Libby.

  ‘You are in a way,’ said Peter. ‘Harry and I bought the cottage and the caff because it was my home village and then we brought you here.’

  ‘The search for Bide-A-Wee,’ said Ben with a grin.‘I’ve heard all about it.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Lenny squinted at them all. ‘Whatcher sayin?’

  ‘When I had to move,’ said Libby, ‘I needed to find an affordable house, so Peter and Harry, who I’d met through the theatre company I was working with, said they would help me find something.’

  ‘Did they actually find anything for you that wasn’t in Steeple Martin?’ asked James, amused.

  ‘A couple,’ said Libby. ‘A ghastly sixties bungalow and a brand new terraced house on an estate. They knew perfectly well neither of them were suitable. Then they turned up with three gorgeous cottages in Steeple Martin. They said I needed to be near them as I got older.’

  ‘In case she fell,’ agreed Peter solemnly.

  Hetty snorted.

  ‘Well I’m glad you brought her here, anyway,’ said Ben, patting Libby’s arm.

  Hetty lifted her glass to Libby. ‘Cheers, gal.’

  They finished dinner and Hetty demanded they stay for port or brandy, according to taste, back in the sitting room. Libby stretched out on one of the sofas just as Harry came through from the hall.

  ‘Finished with my lot so I thought I’d come up and see you all,’ he said, beaming at Hetty. ‘By the way, Libby, your phone was singing away to itself in the kitchen, so I rescued it and brought it in.’ He tossed her the phone.

  ‘One missed call,’ she said. ‘Oh, and a text message.’ She sighed. ‘Remember what it was like when people couldn’t get hold of you?’

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Ben suspiciously.

  ‘Ian.’ Libby’s face fell.

  ‘What does he say?’

  ‘Did Roly tell me yesterday where he was going when he left me?’

  ‘And did he?’ said Ben.

  Libby shook her head. ‘Of course not.’ She looked up. ‘Oh, Lord. It sounds as though he’s disappeared now, doesn’t it?’

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Harry. ‘I thought you were staying out of this murder?’

  Flo and Lenny woke up and James said ‘What?’

  ‘She is,’ defended Ben. ‘This really isn’t her fault.’

  ‘What isn’t? Who’s Roly?’ asked James.

  Ben gave them a potted version of events since Lisa Harwood’s disappearance.

  ‘You’re not talking about Roly Johnson, are you?’ said James when Ben had come to a stop.

  ‘I don’t know –’ began Ben.

  ‘Yes! That’s him!’ said Libby. ‘They told me at the police station. Do you know him?’

  ‘Not very well.’ James was frowning. ‘He lives in Itching, doesn’t he? With his parents.’

  ‘With his parents?’ said Libby. ‘Oh, poor people.’

  ‘Look, we’re jumping to conclusions, here,’ said Ben. ‘He may not have disappeared, and to be honest, if he’s still at home with his parents, it makes sense that he would take off every now and then.’

  ‘That’s true, Lib,’ said Peter. ‘You haven’t actually spoken to Ian. You don’t know what’s happened.’

  ‘It’s the investigative nose,’ said Harry. ‘Twitching like mad.’ He gave Hetty a kiss and sat down next to Peter. ‘Turn off the phone, love, and pretend to be normal.’

  Libby smiled weakly and did as he suggested.

  ‘Come on,’ said Ben, ‘let’s load the dishwasher before we go.’ He stood up and pulled Libby to her feet.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ she whispered as she followed him into the kitchen. ‘Hetty obviously doesn’t want us to go yet.’

  ‘Well, we won’t go, but the dishwasher’s still got to be loaded, even if we leave her to do her pots as usual. But you want to return Ian’s call, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh!’ Libby’s face cleared. ‘You’re clever. I’ll send him a text.’

  She switched her phone back on and replied to Ian’s text.

  Ian replied almost immediately. Sorry – forgot you’d be at Hetty’s!

  ‘Well, it obviously isn’t that serious, then,’ said Ben.

  ‘How can you tell?’ Libby began scraping leftovers into the bin.

  ‘You wouldn’t have got a light-hearted apologetic answer if it was.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I hope so.’ Libby concentrated on the plates.

  ‘You’re not convinced.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll wait and see.’

  Ben sighed and began collecting glasses.

  It wasn’t until they arrived home that Libby’s curiosity could be assuaged. As well as the original message from Ian that duplicated the one on her mobile, there was another.

  ‘Just to let you know, as you will be consumed with curiosity,’ Ian said, ‘young Roly Johnson didn’t return home on Saturday, but his mother said he’s frequently away at weekends. He runs with the Harriers and spends the rest of the weekend with some of them. We’ll catch up with him on Monday.’

  ‘But,’ said Libby to Ben as she deleted the message, ‘he wasn’t running yesterday. Fran and I wondered why. And another thing – Sophie said he was a loner like Lisa.’

  ‘He still might have had a couple of friends among the Harriers,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t be suspicious of everything, Lib.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Libby sighed. ‘It’s a habit, I suppose.’

  ‘As Hal said, the investigative nose. Go and sit down and I’ll make us a cuppa.’

  After Ben had gone to the estate office on Monday morning, Libby called Fran and told her about Ian’s phone calls.

  ‘Everyone thought I was over-reacting when I said it looked as though he’d disappeared too.’

  ‘That was the conclusion I would have jumped to,’ said Fran. ‘And you say James knows him?’

  ‘Not well, he said. He knew he lived in Itching with his parents.’

  ‘Nothing else?’

  ‘I didn’t dare ask. They were all shutting me up.’

  ‘Oh, well, I expect we’ll hear eventually. Now, do you want to hear what Andrew said?’

  ‘Oh! You’ve already called him?’ said Libby in surprise.

  ‘Yes. I remembered he gets up early. Anyway, he knew Notbourne Court.’

  ‘Really? How well?
Does he know who owns it?’

  ‘Slow down, Lib.’ Fran laughed. ‘He knows it because – get this – it’s a listed ancient monument!’

  ‘No! But there was no mention of that online anywhere, I’m sure of it! And it isn’t that old, surely?’

  ‘The old Court was built on the site of an earlier burial place, or possibly a fort. Andrew said he would go off to Maidstone and start digging – if you’ll pardon the pun. His, not mine.’

  ‘What, today?’

  ‘Yes, today. You know what he’s like. I think he’s bored again. He’ll let us know as soon as he’s got anything.’

  ‘So the chase is on,’ said Libby.

  ‘Yes, I rather think it is,’ said Fran.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  ‘Have you heard anything about Roly, Ma?’

  ‘Oh, hello, darling. How nice to hear from you.’ Libby regarded the phone with disfavour.

  ‘Sorry, Ma, but one of Ian’s minions has just been round to question Sophie.’

  ‘What?’ Libby sat down on the stair.

  ‘He’s gone missing, apparently. I thought you might know something about it.’

  Libby’s stomach performed a somersault.

  ‘I might. But I didn’t know he was officially missing.’

  ‘What, then? Only it rather upset Sophie. I think the whole club’s getting jittery.’

  Libby sighed. ‘I don’t blame them. As far as Roly’s concerned, I saw him by accident in Canterbury on Saturday and he told me a few things I then reported to Ian.’

  ‘So it’s your fault he’s gone?’

  Libby’s stomach performed another loop. ‘How can it be my fault?’

  ‘He’s run from the police.’

  ‘No. He left me and never arrived home. He had no idea the police wanted to see him.’

  This probably wasn’t true, she realised. Roly would have guessed she would go straight to the police with his information.

  ‘How do you know he never arrived home?’ Adam sounded positively accusatory.

  ‘Ian called me yesterday to ask if he’d said where he was going when he left me.’

  Adam let out a gusty sigh. ‘Oh, Ma! Why can’t you leave things alone?’

  Libby felt her cheeks heat up. ‘Adam, that is totally unfair! I bumped into Roly by accident, and, as it happened, he confessed to being the person who’d made those threatening phone calls.’

  ‘He – what? What phone calls?’

  ‘Look, this is nothing to do with you.’ Libby fought to keep her temper.‘I’m sorry Sophie’s been questioned again, but it isn’t my fault, or Fran’s. I’m also sorry young Roly’s disappeared, he seems a nice lad, if misguided, and I’m even sorrier that Lisa Harwood is dead. I did not ask to be mixed up in any of it, and next time you or Sophie consider asking Fran or I if we could approach the police for you, you’d better think again. You now know why we said no.’

  There was silence at the other end of the line. Determined not to be the one who broke it, Libby concentrated ferociously on her feet.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ma.’ Adam spoke quietly. ‘I didn’t – well, realise, I suppose. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s all right. If I hear anything from Ian, I’ll let you know, but I’m unlikely to.’

  ‘OK, thanks. Sorry.’

  ‘Oh, stop it. Shall I see you at the caff on Wednesday?’

  ‘I think so. I’ll let you know.’

  Libby was still sitting on the stairs when Ben came in from the estate office.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I had a row with Adam.’

  ‘You what?’ Ben’s eyebrows flew upwards. ‘You never row with your children.’

  ‘Well, I did.’ Libby let out a shaky breath and stood up. ‘Is the sun over the yard-arm? I could do with a drink.’

  Over a comfortingly large gin and tonic, Libby regaled Ben with the telephone conversations of the day.

  ‘And have you heard from Andrew Wylie yet?’ he asked when she’d finished.

  ‘No, but I’d hardly expect him to dash over to Maidstone, find everything they have on Notbourne Court and phone us back about it in one day.’ Libby leant back against the cushions.

  ‘Worrying about young Roly, though,’ said Ben. ‘Looks as though you were right yesterday.’

  ‘Do you really think it’s my fault he’s gone missing?’ Libby asked. ‘I mean, although he didn’t know the police were going to come after him, he would have guessed I’d tell them.’

  ‘He told you about Lisa and the owner of Notbourne Court. It’s his own fault, not yours. He should have told the police all this in the first place.’

  ‘I know. But I can’t help wondering if any of it was true. I mean, I’m sure she told him, as he said, but it sounds like romancing, to me. Why would she tell Roly?’

  ‘Because he would be easily impressed?’ Ben came and sat next to her on the sofa. ‘Shall we watch the news?’

  ‘I’d better start dinner,’ said Libby. ‘Call me if there’s anything interesting.’

  ‘Report on Kent and Coast about Lisa Harwood,’ Ben called ten minutes later.

  Libby looked round the doorway in time to see Campbell McLean doing a piece to camera in front of the Canterbury Police Station.

  ‘… no news on the investigation so far,’ he was saying. ‘Police say they are pursuing various lines of enquiry. Back to you …’

  ‘What had he said before that?’ Libby asked.

  ‘Just a shot of the place her body was found, then it went to him – saying nothing, really.’

  ‘Nothing about Roly, then?’

  ‘No. Perhaps they’ve found him?’

  ‘Perhaps. I hope so.’ Libby went back to the kitchen.

  Half way through the evening, Fran called.

  ‘Andrew’s back from Maidstone full of himself. He says would we like to go over tomorrow morning to see the results.’

  ‘And you said yes?’

  ‘Of course. I said, unless you said no, we’d see him at eleven in the morning.’

  ‘Oh, good. Did he give you any clues?’

  ‘Only that it had been very interesting. Let’s hope it’s interesting for us, too.’

  Libby related the story of her phone call with Adam.

  ‘It upset me, you know,’ she concluded.

  ‘The youngsters don’t think,’ said Fran gently. ‘Sophie told Guy earlier, but she didn’t blame anyone. She was a bit shaky about it, Guy said.’

  ‘Adam said the whole group were jittery.’

  ‘I expect they are,’ said Fran with a sigh. ‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about it.’

  ‘No.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘Tell me, why are we investigating Notbourne Court?’

  ‘To find the owner,’ said Fran, sounding surprised.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Libby. ‘Sure it’s not just being nosy?’

  ‘Perhaps it is, a bit,’ said Fran after a pause. ‘Do you want to stop?’

  ‘No.’ Libby sighed. ‘We might as well see what Andrew’s found out.’

  Andrew lived in a small block of apartments at one end of Canongate Drive in Nethergate. It had views over the roofs of the town to the sea, and, as usual, Andrew had opened the doors to the balcony when Libby and Fran arrived the following morning. On the big dining table in front of the open doors,the cat Talbot lay across a pile of papers in somnolent ecstasy.

  As they came into the room, a slight woman with greying dark hair rose from a chair in the corner.

  ‘Libby, Fran – I’d like you to meet Faith Conway,’ said Andrew.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Libby, sticking out a hand.

  ‘Hello,’ said Fran, doing the same.

  ‘Hello,’ said Faith, in a soft Irish accent. ‘I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here …’

  ‘I’ll explain when we’ve all sat down with our coffee,’ said a beaming Andrew. ‘Now you sit at the table, Libby and Fran, and I’ll bring the coffee. And cake, of course!’

  Andrew
brought in a tray containing the coffee pot, milk jug, cups and saucers and cake.

  ‘Lemon drizzle this morning,’ he said. ‘Faith, come up here and join us.’

  When they were all seated round the table and Talbot had been shooed off, Andrew drew his notebook towards him.

  ‘This was absolutely fascinating,’ he began.‘I already knew about the site, as I explained to Fran yesterday, as there have been one or two exploratory digs there. Late Roman and Romano-British finds have been made there, and although it’s difficult to say, it is thought that a sixth or seventh-century hall stood on the site. What’s remaining is part of the eighteenth-century house.’

  He paused and pulled more papers towards him.

  ‘I began searching the archives and managed to find out quite a lot about the Hays family. You know about them?’

  ‘Lord Cheveley?’ said Libby. ‘Yes, I know about him, and the fact that Stephanie was the last of the direct line and died childless. She left the estate, such as it was, to Christobel and Robert Harris in 1985.’

  ‘Ah!’ Andrew held up a finger. ‘But what she didn’t know, and for some reason hadn’t bothered to find out, was that there was another direct descendant, from a different line.’

  ‘So she should have left it to them?’said Fran.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Andrew, grinning at Faith. ‘It should have gone straight to the other descendant.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ Libby looked from Andrew to Faith. ‘You?’

  Faith smiled. ‘My father, who knew nothing about it at the time. We lived in Ireland then, and I knew nothing about the family, or why I didn’t seem to have any grandparents on my father’s side. My children hadn’t been born, either, so I didn’t worry about it.’ She picked up her coffee cup and looked at Andrew. He gave a quick nod, and carried on.

  ‘I expect it seems odd that after having looked into it only yesterday, I should suddenly be able to produce the missing heir today, as it were.’

  ‘It does, rather,’ said Libby.

  ‘I promise you, it’s not as odd as it seems. When I was asking for access to all these old documents, my friend at the archive centre happened to remark that it was odd, but she’d had a request for the same material from someone else very recently.’