Murder on the Run

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘And that was me,’ said Faith. ‘When my father died, or rather, just before, he told me all about the row his father had had with the rest of his family. Apparently old Lord Cheveley had run through all the money – or his father had, anyway – and he couldn’t afford the house.’

  ‘We read about that,’ said Fran.

  ‘So he tried to give it away, sell what he could and pull the rest down. He had wanted my grandfather to stay there and try and put the family fortune back together, but my grandfather could see it was hopeless and left, eventually ending up in Ireland after the First World War. He never looked back, and never heard from the Cheveley family – or the Hays, as was their family name – again. My father had tried to find out a bit about them, but there was no internet back in the mid-eighties, so he gave up. But then …’ she paused and looked at Andrew ‘– this is the odd part – a few years ago, I received a letter from someone called Rowena Harris.’

  ‘Related to Christobel and Robert Harris?’ said Libby.

  ‘How did she find you?’ asked Fran.

  Faith gave a soft laugh. ‘She was doing genealogical research, she said, and she’d traced the line back from Stephanie – who was the daughter of my grandfather’s brother – and discovered that the Notbourne Estate should have gone to our line as she died childless. Or that’s what she thought.’

  ‘Like a fairy story,’ said Libby.

  ‘Except that there’s not exactly much value to the estate,’ said Andrew.

  ‘So what happened next? You said this was a few years ago,’ said Fran.

  ‘We kept in touch, and I couldn’t see that there could be any gain for anybody by me trying to claim the estate. It would cost a fortune in legal fees, anyway. Then, quite suddenly, I stopped hearing from her. I tried to find her – we’d got friendly enough to connect on social media, and we emailed regularly – but I couldn’t.’

  ‘In other words,’ said Andrew, ‘she’d disappeared.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ‘Not another one!’ said Libby.

  ‘Eh?’ said Andrew, startled.

  ‘This is the third disappearance we’ve heard about in the last two weeks,’ said Fran. ‘Although I must say this sounds rather different.’

  ‘Who were the others?’ asked Faith, leaning forward.

  ‘We’ll tell you all about it when you’ve finished your story,’ said Libby. ‘If there is more, of course.’

  ‘Only a little,’ said Faith. ‘I was quite worried about her. She was a widow – Harris was her maiden name, of course –and I searched every letter and email I’d had from her for her married name, but she seemed to use Harris for everything.Her social media page has gone, and there’s been no other activity, though her email address is still live.We had no mutual friends, so there was no one to ask. I knew where she lived, so in the end I decided to come over for a holiday. I’m a widow, too, you see, and the children are all flown, so …’ She looked down at her lap.

  ‘And were you able to find out anything?’ Fran asked gently, after a moment.

  ‘I went to the address I had, but there was nobody there. She never mentioned any children, so I didn’t know what to do. Which was why I’d been to the archive office, but I hadn’t found out anything relevant, except that what Rowena said about the inheritance was true.’

  ‘So I thought,’ said Andrew, ‘you would be bound to know more than I do about what’s going on in the present, if you bothered to ask me to do some research.’ He sat back looking smug.

  ‘So your obliging archives contact just handed over Faith’s contact details?’ said Fran doubtfully.

  ‘No, she phoned Faith’s hotel and then handed me the phone. All very proper.’

  ‘And you came here? That was trusting of you,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh, the lady at the museum said she knew him well,’ said Faith, smiling at Andrew. ‘So he came over to the hotel and we had a drink at the bar yesterday evening. And he told me all about his own research and,’ she looked a bit confused, ‘quite a lot about you two, I’m afraid.’

  Libby let out a hoot of laughter. ‘I bet he did! He did tell you how much he’s been mixed up in our adventures, I hope?’

  ‘I touched on it.’ Andrew’s cheeks were reddening. ‘Now tell us what your interest in all this is.’

  Libby looked at Fran, who nodded, and embarked on an explanation, starting with the disappearance of Lisa Harwood on the Nethergate 5K, and finishing with the disappearance of Roly Johnson on Saturday.

  ‘And you aren’t involved?’ Andrew looked sceptical.

  ‘No, we’re really not. We’re just collateral damage,’ said Libby.

  ‘It’s because people expect us to be involved if anything like this happens. Hell, the Nethergate Harriers even asked us to investigate,’ said Fran.

  ‘You said that the police found out that a trust administered the estate,’ said Faith with a frown. ‘Rowena never mentioned that.’

  ‘That is odd, isn’t it?’ said Andrew. ‘And I found no mention of it anywhere in the archives, either.’

  ‘Do you think she set it up herself quite recently?’ asked Libby.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I would have thought, under the circumstances, she would have told me,’ said Faith.

  ‘What do we do now, then, ladies?’ asked Andrew, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘I think,’ said Libby, after a moment, ‘that with Faith’s permission, the police ought to be told.’

  Faith nodded. ‘Rowena’s missing. And we don’t know how long she’s been missing. I agree.’

  ‘But it hasn’t got anything to do with Lisa Harwood’s death,’ said Andrew, ‘other than the fact that she lived in a cottage rented from Rowena.’

  ‘Or the trust,’ said Libby. ‘I still think that’s very odd. But perhaps with Faith’s extra knowledge, the police can get through to the snotty lawyers.’

  ‘What do I do next, then?’ asked Faith. ‘Could you do it for me?’

  Fran and Libby looked at each other.

  ‘In this case,’ said Fran, ‘even if we don’t report it direct to Ian, I think it would carry more weight if one of us does it. If we say we’ve found out that the owner of Notbourne Court has gone missing, it’ll be taken more seriously than if a member of the public does it.’

  ‘Good.’ Andrew beamed round at the three women. ‘More cake, anyone?’

  Fran stood up. ‘I’m going to call the police now,’ she said. ‘Then, if they need to, they can set up a meeting with Faith on the spot.’

  She went out on to the balcony, where Talbot joined her, rubbing round her ankles. Andrew watched him for a moment.

  ‘I sometimes wonder if he misses Rosie, you know,’ he said.

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Libby. ‘She was always going off and leaving him, wasn’t she?’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Andrew. He turned to Faith. ‘I adopted Talbot, you see, from a mutual friend of ours. He used to be an outdoor cat, but he seems to have adapted to living inside.’

  Libby regarded the big cat with affection. ‘He’s too fat and lazy to rush about outside these days, Andrew. He’s fine.’

  Fran came in through the French windows.

  ‘DCI Connell would like a word with you, Faith,’ she said, holding out the phone.

  Faith stared at it nervously for a moment, then took it very gingerly from Fran’s hand. ‘Hello?’ she said. Fran gestured for her to go out on the balcony and she edged round the table. Fran sat down again, and she, Andrew and Libby all looked at each other.

  ‘Did you call Ian direct?’ asked Libby.

  ‘No, I called the police station. When I said who I was and what information I had, I was patched straight through. I don’t even know where he is.’

  ‘Wasn’t he cross?’

  ‘No, because the station had put me through. He was interested, but didn’t say a lot to me.’

  Faith came back through the door looking a little shell-shocked.

  ‘What did
he say?’ asked Andrew.

  ‘He wants to meet me. A statement, or something.’

  ‘Does that mean the police station?’ said Libby.

  ‘Well – no. Actually, he seemed to think I was staying with you. One of you.’ She shared a smile between Libby and Fran. ‘Seemed surprised when I said I wasn’t. Anyway, he said he would interview me at my hotel later today. Which is a nuisance.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Fran.

  ‘I was going to check out and find somewhere a bit cheaper. And I don’t feel at home in those big anonymous hotels.’

  ‘The pub,’ said Fran, Libby and Andrew together.

  ‘The pub?’ echoed Faith.

  ‘In Steeple Martin,’ said Libby, ‘where I live. Comes highly recommended. Shall I give them a ring now?’

  Faith was still looking bewildered.

  ‘It’s probably best,’ said Fran. ‘You’ll be nearer the Notbourne Estate. And if it should become part of the investigation …’

  ‘I don’t see how I could be part of it,’ said Faith.

  ‘But are you planning on staying around for a little while?’ asked Andrew.

  ‘Well, yes …’

  ‘It’s nice and quiet, it’s only got three rooms and I’m round the corner,’ said Libby.

  ‘All right,’ said Faith. ‘I suppose it makes sense.’ She gave Fran back her phone. ‘I’d better go and check out of the hotel, hadn’t I? Will you let me know how to get to your village?’

  ‘Are you driving?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Yes – I hired a car.’

  ‘Satnav?’

  ‘That’s how I got here.’

  ‘Right, give me your mobile number and I’ll send you the postcode,’ said Libby. ‘Mind you, you’ll go through the village on your way back to Maidstone.’

  Numbers were exchanged, Andrew was thanked by all parties who then left to go their separate ways. Andrew leant over his balcony, waving as they all drove off. Fran was following Libby back to Steeple Martin, where they both intended to wait for Faith to relocate.

  As they parked opposite number 17 Allhallow’s Lane, they were both taken aback to see Ian Connell just turning away from Libby’s front door.

  ‘You were together this morning?’ Ian said as they crossed the road.

  ‘Yes.’ Fran said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I suppose I assumed that you were with this Mrs Conway in Nethergate and Libby was here.’

  ‘And?’ prompted Libby as she unlocked the front door.

  ‘I wanted to ask a few questions before I met her, and I thought you’d know.’

  ‘Were you in the area?’ asked Fran.

  ‘I was.’

  They both waited for more, but Ian wasn’t saying.

  ‘Well, go and sit down, then,’ said Libby. ‘Do you want tea or anything?’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Ian. ‘What can you tell me about this lady?’

  ‘I told you when I rang,’ said Fran. ‘She came over from Ireland because she waslooking for Rowena Harris, who it appears is – or was – the owner of Notbourne Court.’

  ‘And it was your friend Professor Wyliewho found her? Tell me how.’

  Fran looked at Libby. Libby sighed. ‘We asked him if he knew anything about Notbourne Court. He knew about the seventh-century building that had been there, but said he’d enjoy going and looking through the archives at Maidstone.’ Libby went on to tell the story of how Andrew had then found Faith. ‘Terrific coincidence,’ she finished.

  ‘Too much of a coincidence?’ suggested Ian.

  ‘How could that be?’ gasped Libby.

  ‘Nonsense, Ian,’ said Fran.

  ‘Anyway, she’s moving from Maidstone to the pub here this afternoon, so you can talk to her there,’ said Libby.

  ‘I knew it. I thought she must already be holed up with one of you,’ said Ian. ‘Please don’t interfere any more. I’m sure you feel she needs protecting, but I repeat: don’t interfere.’

  He stood up. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’

  ‘He can’t honestly suspect Faith!’ Libby said, as she shut the door behind him.

  ‘It does look odd her turning up right at this time, you must admit,’ said Fran. ‘Although what she could have to do with Lisa I don’t know.’

  ‘At least we know who owns the Court now.’ Libby went through to the kitchen to see if she had anything for lunch hidden away in the fridge.

  ‘It makes what Roly told you even more suspect, though, doesn’t it?’ Fran followed her. ‘Rowena certainly wasn’t the person Roly was referring to.’

  ‘So either Lisa was lying when she told the tale to Roly, or Roly was lying when he talked to me.’ Libby shut the fridge door. ‘I could make soup again?’

  ‘Why did Roly ring you up, then, if he was lying?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s all beyond me. Ian’s got everything we know, now, so it’s up to him.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Fran was frowning. ‘Come on, let’s go and have a sandwich for lunch at the pub.’

  ‘Then we could wait for Faith to book in,’ said Libby.

  ‘If she does,’ said Fran. ‘She might have changed her mind by the time she gets back to Maidstone. She’d never met us before, after all.’

  ‘Shall I ring her? I’ve got her number.’

  ‘No, that’s pushy. If she arrives at the pub, we’ll see her, but we don’t want her to feel uncomfortable.’

  But just as they finished their sandwiches and Fran was ordering a lemonade for herself and a half of lager for Libby, Faith appeared in the bar.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Libby asked her.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ Faith sat down at their table. ‘The manager told me you were here. I’ve ordered a sandwich, but you’ve finished yours. Don’t let me keep you.’

  ‘We’ve got drinks to finish,’ said Libby. ‘And it’s horrible eating on your own in a place like this.’

  ‘Faith,’ Fran said, sitting down beside her, ‘you didn’t tell us where Rowena was living. Presumably not anywhere near the Court? And when exactly did she go missing?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, exactly, I only know when I received her last email. She lived in London, and she’d been talking about coming down to Kent to make an inspection visit, which she did every now and then, although the running of the estate, or what was left of it, was left to someone else. A firm of lawyers, I think she said.’

  ‘Yes, the police found that out, although they were told it was some kind of trust. We told you that, and you said she’d said nothing about a trust, but that must have been the posse of snotty lawyers.’ said Libby. ‘And you say she was coming down for an inspection? When had she last done that?’

  ‘A few years,she said,’ said Faith. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because somebody definitely didn’t want her to come down again.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘You must tell Ian that when he talks to you,’ said Fran. ‘It’s very important.’

  ‘Is it?’ Faith was looking bewildered again.

  ‘Somebody – Lisa Harwood – was staying in Chestnut Cottage, and she shouldn’t have been there. Somebody else had let her in. If your Rowena had come down, the game would’ve been up, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ said Faith tiredly. ‘I can’t follow all this really. I think I just ought to go back to Ireland and forget all about it.’

  ‘If you think so,’ said Libby doubtfully, ‘but talk to Ian first – the policeman, you know –and let us show you what’s left of the Court. You can have a quiet few days’ holiday, and then go home.’

  ‘All right.’ Faith gave them a tired smile. ‘Will you be here when the policeman comes to talk to me?’

  ‘I don’t suppose he’d let us stay,’ said Fran, ‘but he really isn’t frightening at all.’

  Faith’s sandwich arrived, and by mutual and tacit consent, they changed the subject, until a shadow fell across their table.

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ said Ian. ‘May we join
you? This is DC Turnbull.’

  The woman standing just behind Ian nodded her sleek blonde head.

  Libby raised her eyebrows, eyes wide.

  ‘Shall we leave you?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Ian, holding out a hand to Faith. ‘Mrs Conway, I presume?’

  He pulled up two more chairs for himself and Turnbull, and they all shuffled round to make room. Faith looked scared.

  ‘Now, Mrs Conway, perhaps you could tell me again what you told me on the phone? And anything else you can remember? DC Turnbull will make notes if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Um – Ian,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t think Fran and I should be here, really.’

  Ian gave her a wry smile. ‘It’s unorthodox, I know, but I have the feeling Mrs Conway will feel a lot happier if you stay.’

  Faith nodded and Libby subsided.

  Faith’s story coincided exactly with what she’d told Ian before, and included the information Libby and Fran had just heard.

  ‘And you thought what?’ Ian turned to Fran and Libby. They looked at each other.

  ‘Lisa wasn’t supposed to be in Chestnut Cottage and Rowena was coming down to have a look round,’ said Fran.

  ‘Which means we must start looking for Mrs Harris, now,’ said Ian. He let out a frustrated breath. ‘I don’t know how it is, but you two manage to make every case more complicated than it was at the start.’

  Fran and Libby simultaneously gasped in outrage.

  ‘It isn’t us!’ said Libby. ‘We had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I put it badly.’ Ian nodded to DC Turnbull and she closed her notebook. ‘I’m grateful that you brought this to my attention.’

  ‘It links the cases, doesn’t it?’ said Fran. ‘And makes Lisa’s death slightly easier to understand.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Ian. ‘I can understand that Mrs Harris might have had to disappear, but that was well before Mrs Harwood’s death, so why was she killed?’

  DC Turnbull was looking faintly shocked. Libby leant towards her. ‘Don’t worry about it. We’ve known each other for a long time.’

  Turnbull coloured and Ian smiled at her. ‘Yes, I’m afraid these two are known to the police. And occasionally, known to be useful.’