Murder in Bloom - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series

by Lesley Cookman

  Frank, Libby and Fran all showed varying degrees of astonishment.

  ‘Good idea. You never know – it might bring him out of himself a bit,’ said Brenda.

  ‘Well,’ said Libby, as they climbed into Frank’s huge SUV five minutes later, ‘I hope it doesn’t do any harm, but suppose we don’t get anything from him and only succeed in upsetting him?’

  ‘We’ll get something from him,’ said Fran. ‘I only hope it’s what I want.’

  Chapter Thirty-three

  BROOKMEAD HOUSE, LIKE SO many other houses in their present incarnations, sat at the end of a gravelled drive surrounded by manicured lawns and well tended flowerbeds. No discreet sign gave any indication of the nature of its inhabitants, although there were metal hand-rails on both sides of the shallow steps to the front door. A ramp led up separately, for wheelchairs, Libby supposed and, she thought with a shudder, stretchers.

  Frank led the way into the hall which contained a row of uncomfortable looking plastic chairs and a long, high desk, behind which sat a woman with grey hair and an intimidating expression.

  ‘Hi, Sal,’ said Frank. Blimey, thought Libby.

  Sal’s expression changed to coy. Libby blinked.

  ‘Frank! You back again?’

  Libby looked at Fran and made a face.

  ‘Brought some more visitors, if that’s OK,’ said Frank. ‘Do you need to give them badges or anything?’

  ‘If you’d just sign in,’ said Sal. ‘Health and Safety, you know.’

  ‘Huh?’ said Libby.

  ‘So that they know who’s in the building in case of a fire,’ said Fran.

  ‘Oh.’ Libby took the proffered pen and signed the book Sal pushed towards her. Fran followed suit.

  ‘Come on then,’ said Frank and turned to a corridor on his left leading to an open French window, where a white voile curtain fluttered like a bridal veil. Libby and Fran followed him to the end, where he knocked briefly on a door and, without waiting for a reply, opened it.

  Gerald Shepherd sat in the inevitable high backed hospital armchair gazing at nothing in particular. The room, with its window too high to gaze from, contained a high bed, a plethora of small tables and what looked like a door to an en-suite bathroom. There were no photographs. He didn’t look up as his three visitors entered.

  ‘Hey, mate.’ Frank sat down on an upright chair opposite Gerald and motioned Fran and Libby to pull up similar chairs which stood against the wall. Gerald looked at him vaguely and put out a tentative hand. Libby felt a lump in her throat. Fran cleared hers and handed Frank the folder.

  ‘Gerry, these ladies have come to see you.’ Frank waited for a response, then opened the folder. ‘They’ve brought you pictures to look at.’

  Gerald’s eyes dropped to the folder. He understood that much, Libby realised.

  ‘Look, here.’ Frank pointed out the picture of Kenneth. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Kenny.’ The voice was a whisper. Frank beamed.

  ‘That’s it! That’s Kenny. And who’s this?’

  Gerald took all the photographs with a shaking hand and dropped most of them. Fran dropped to her knees and helped to pick them up. Gerald snatched one from her, the one of young people on a beach.

  ‘Amanda,’ he whispered. Libby and Fran looked enquiringly at Frank.

  ‘His wife,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Ken’s mother. Died years ago.’

  ‘Kenny,’ said Gerald again, with a frown, looking at the photograph with a blurred Cindy Dale behind him.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Fran, pointing to Cindy.

  ‘Amanda,’ said Gerald.

  ‘He’s muddled,’ said Frank, stating the obvious. Fran shuffled the photographs and showed one of Tony West.

  ‘Tony,’ said Gerald in a firmer voice. Then he pulled out the one taken in the seventies and pointed to the young man with the moustache. ‘My son,’ he said.

  The other three looked at each other.

  ‘No, that’s your son, Kenny,’ said Frank, showing the one of Kenneth. Gerald shook his head and pointed again. ‘My son,’ he said, and, shockingly, smiled. He picked up the one of Tony West. ‘My son,’ he said again.

  ‘Tony?’ said Libby. ‘Tony’s your son?’

  ‘Where’s Tony?’ Gerald looked up at Frank. ‘Where’s Tony?’

  Frank was looking stunned. Libby gave him a nudge. ‘Don’t tell him,’ she whispered. He shook his head slightly and leant forward.

  ‘Away, Gerry,’ he said. ‘Tony’s away.’

  ‘Look after Kenny,’ said Gerald, and turned his head to the window.

  Nothing more could be got from him, but he held on to the photograph of himself and the moustachioed young man, stroking it gently. Eventually, Frank jerked his head and stood up. He gripped Gerald’s shoulder, and with a soft ‘Bye, mate,’ to which he received no answer, left the room. Libby and Fran followed him. Outside, he leant against the wall and pulled out a large handkerchief to wipe his face.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he said.

  ‘You never knew?’ asked Fran. He shook his head.

  ‘Did Kenneth know?’ said Libby.

  ‘No idea,’ said Frank. ‘I’d say no. I was as close to Gerry as anyone, and if I didn’t know, no one knew.’

  ‘But Kenneth was his son. Wouldn’t Gerald have told him if Tony was his older brother?’ said Libby.

  ‘Gawd knows,’ said Frank, pushing himself away from the wall and starting back down the corridor. ‘You going to tell the police?’

  ‘I expect so,’ said Fran. ‘It gives someone the motive for murdering West.’

  ‘But we know Cindy did it,’ said Libby.

  ‘Yes, but now we know he was Gerald’s son, which was why, presumably, he was given power of attorney –’

  ‘Of course!’ breathed Libby. ‘I never could work out why that was.’

  ‘As I was saying,’ said Fran, ‘as he was Gerald’s son, perhaps Cindy thought he stood in the way of her inheritance.’

  ‘Hang on, though,’ said Libby, scurrying to catch up with Frank, who had reached the entrance hall, ‘how could it be her inheritance? Kenneth was dead. So whatever happened the money, or the estate, whatever, wouldn’t go to her as Kenneth’s widow. He pre-deceased his father.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Fran frowned at Frank’s back, where he was bending over the high counter to speak to Sally, who looked shocked.

  ‘You shouldn’t have said anything to her,’ said Fran, when he rejoined them.

  ‘She’s got a right to know,’ he said, striding down the steps to the SUV. ‘Tony paid her.’

  ‘Paid the fees, you mean?’ said Libby.

  ‘And paid her a bit extra to keep shtum.’ He looked back up the steps. ‘Good rottweiler, that one. She’s the only one on the staff there that knows who he was.’

  ‘So where did you come into the picture, then?’ asked Libby, clambering up into the high vehicle.

  ‘Told you. I knew Gerry in London. He come down to visit, saw old Creekmarsh and bought it. Tony was part of the crowd. Told you that, an’ all.’

  ‘Yes, you did.’ Fran settled herself comfortably. ‘So his mother can’t have been Amanda?’

  Frank frowned over the steering wheel. ‘We-ell,’ he said. ‘See, I don’t know. Bit funny, ain’t it? Both of them keeping quiet about it if it was all legal like.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Libby. ‘So do you think he fathered Tony before he was married to Amanda?’

  ‘Must have done,’ said Fran. ‘It looks as though he was very young when Tony was born. Perhaps he didn’t know about Tony until he was grown up.’

  ‘You mean Tony traced his real father, sort of thing?’ said Libby.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Fran. ‘In which case it might have been bad publicity if it came out. Things weren’t quite as enlightened as they are now.’

  They arrived back at the pub and thanked Frank for taking them. He shook hands with them both, still looking stunned.

  ‘I’m going to tell them about
this,’ said Libby. ‘Coming?’

  ‘No, I’d better get back and play at being a bride-to-be,’ said Fran.

  ‘You’d guessed, hadn’t you?’ said Libby, watching her friend unlock her car.

  Fran nodded.

  ‘That was why you kept asking how old Tony was?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fran. ‘Just one of those things.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Libby frowned at her. ‘But I still don’t quite see what difference it makes.’

  ‘Tony is probably Gerald’s heir. If the police have got to the will by now they’ll know that.’

  ‘So Cindy killed him to remove the obstacle to her inheritance? I said before, that doesn’t make sense. Gerald was still alive and she thought he still owned the house.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fran, ‘Gerald was still alive. I think she had expected to come home and find Gerald dead, so would walk into Creekmarsh as Kenneth’s wife – or widow. I don’t suppose she thought much further than that. Then she found out about Tony.’

  ‘How? She went and killed him after she heard about the skeleton. She must have known already that he was Gerald’s son.’

  ‘I expect she went to see him to ask what she should do before she turned up officially. Then he would have told her Creekmarsh had been sold and, anyway, it was all his. I don’t suppose she thought about what she was doing. Probably just lashed out.’

  ‘With Lewis’s mallet.’ Libby nodded. ‘But then, who killed her?’

  Fran shivered. ‘That’s the worrying part, isn’t it?’

  Libby let herself into the kitchen and called out. Katie appeared and went straight to the kettle.

  ‘Tea, lovey?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, yes please, Katie,’ said Libby. ‘Do you know where Lewis is?’

  ‘Out there with his telly mates somewhere,’ said Katie. ‘Did you want him for anything?’

  ‘No, not really,’ lied Libby. ‘What about Adam? I’ve got to give him a lift home tonight. I mean, I know he won’t be ready yet, but I thought I’d let him know I’m here.’

  ‘Him and that Mog were over towards the wood last time I saw them,’ said Katie.

  ‘How’s Edie?’ asked Libby. ‘Is she still here?’

  ‘Having a lie down,’ said Katie, pouring tea. ‘She’s bit frail, poor thing. Seemed really shook up when that Cindy died.’

  ‘Well, it can’t be very nice knowing someone’s been found dead in your son’s garden,’ said Libby, taking her mug.

  ‘No, and she was already worried about him.’ Katie tutted. ‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to, I really don’t. Murders and skeletons. I’m not so sure I want to stay down here, meself, now.’

  ‘Oh, Katie, you can’t leave him,’ said Libby. ‘He really needs you.’

  Katie looked doubtful. ‘I dunno,’ she said. ‘He can get other staff if he needs them. I’m getting on a bit, after all. I should think about retiring. I’m not as strong as I was.’

  ‘But he relies on you,’ said Libby.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Katie, and sat down with her mug looking thoughtful.

  ‘I’m going to find Adam and Mog,’ said Libby after a moment. ‘Can I take my mug with me?’

  ‘Long as you bring it back,’ said Katie with a smile. ‘Those boys are always leaving them places.’

  ‘I’ll tell them off,’ said Libby and went out into the grounds.

  Adam and Mog weren’t far away. In fact, they were at the back of the house, very carefully loosening turf away from the wall.

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Libby.

  ‘Told you, didn’t we?’ said Adam. ‘Look!’

  And sure enough, a curved row of bricks was showing in the wall just above the ground.

  ‘That’s what Fran and I were looking for the other day,’ said Libby.

  ‘Where?’ asked Mog.

  ‘At the church and on the other side of the house. Near that little side door no one uses.’

  Mog looked dubious. ‘Newer part of the house,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you won’t be able to break in from here,’ said Libby, bending down to get a closer look. ‘Can you work out where it is on the garden plan?’

  ‘It doesn’t show the interior of the house, Ma,’ said Adam scornfully.

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Libby. ‘But I bet I know where it is.’ She straightened up and looked up at the building. ‘See that window? The tall one?’

  Mog and Adam looked up.

  ‘Yes,’ said Adam.

  ‘That’s over the staircase in the other part of the house. What’s the betting that there’s a staircase down as well?’

  Mog nodded slowly. ‘But how would you find it? It’s almost derelict in there isn’t it?’

  ‘There was loads of rubble at the foot of the staircase, yes,’ said Libby.

  ‘In which case, Mother, Cindy wouldn’t have been able to get down there, let alone you.’ Adam was triumphant. Libby gave him a look.

  ‘If we could get down there we could find out where tunnel came out. Where else the tunnel came out,’ she insisted.

  ‘We’ll have to tell Lewis,’ said Mog. ‘And it’s getting a bit late to do it today.’

  ‘OK. I’ll see if I can find him and have a quick chat,’ said Libby. ‘By the time I’ve done that you’ll be ready to leave, won’t you, Ad?’

  Adam and Mog agreed and returned to their self-imposed task, although Libby wasn’t quite sure why, if they weren’t going to be able to knock it through. Just boys’ curiosity, she supposed.

  She met Lewis on the drive waving off a car load of “telly people”.

  ‘Got a minute?’ she asked him.

  He looked nervous. ‘What for?’ he said.

  ‘Oh, Lewis, what’s the matter?’ Libby tucked her arm through his and turned him back towards the house. ‘Come on. It’s almost over, all this, and you’ve got your new series on the way, and the original garden designs. What’s the problem?’

  ‘You,’ said Lewis. ‘I’m beginning to get nervous about you. Something always seems to happen around you.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ said Libby, shocked. ‘And you asked me into it in the first place, after all.’

  ‘I know,’ sighed Lewis, ‘but that was before Tony was killed and I was worried.’

  ‘And you’re not worried now?’

  ‘’Course I bloody am. I don’t understand any of it. What did you want, anyway?’

  ‘Can Adam and Mog and I do a bit of excavating in the old part of the house tomorrow?’ Libby led the way into the kitchen and put her mug on the table with a wink at Katie.

  ‘Excavating? What d’you mean?’

  ‘Where the old staircase is, you know? There’s a lot of rubble there. We thought there may be an entrance to the cellars of the tunnels there. Mog and Adam have found signs of an old window bricked up below ground level.’

  ‘Have they?’ Lewis’s expression brightened. ‘Where’s that then? Are they there now?’

  ‘Yes, or they were. They’ll be finished soon. Do you want to go and see?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Lewis grabbed her arm. ‘Come on, nuisance. You always get your way, don’t you?’

  Libby looked back at Katie and raised her eyebrows. Katie shook her head and picked up her magazine.

  Adam was carefully rolling the turf they’d removed while Mog watered it thoroughly. They showed Lewis the window and the indications that there were others along the same wall.

  ‘Do you think they are cellars?’ Lewis asked.

  ‘Sure of it. We’ll probably find stashes of brandy and baccy down there,’ said Libby with a grin.

  ‘What?’ Lewis looked puzzled.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of her,’ said Adam. ‘Can we look in the house tomorrow, Lewis?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll come with you.’ He straightened up and gave Libby a squeeze. ‘Sorry I called you a nuisance.’

  ‘Why are you sorry?’ asked Adam. ‘She is!’

  ‘Come back to the house while they finis
h up,’ said Libby, ‘I’ve got something else to tell you. I think Fran will have told the police by now, but don’t mention it to anyone else.’

  Adam and Mog looked interested, but Libby pulled a puzzled Lewis away towards the house.

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘You’re never going to believe this, but –’

  Chapter Thirty-four

  ‘I DIDN’T TELL THE police,’ Fran said on the phone. ‘I’ll talk it over with Frank first, I think. He seems to be the only one left who cares about Gerald, and he might not want him bothered.’

  ‘But we’ve got to tell the police! You said yourself it gives a motive for Tony’s murder.’

  ‘But you said it’s a pretty shaky one,’ said Fran.

  ‘I know, but it explains such a lot, doesn’t it? You’ll have to tell them.’

  ‘All right, all right. So what did they say up at the house?’

  ‘I only told Lewis. I didn’t think it was right to tell the others. But they’ve found windows to what could be cellars. We’re going exploring tomorrow. Want to come?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Fran wistfully, ‘but I really can’t. I’m picking up the dress tomorrow – yours as well, I might add – and doing all sorts of last-minute things. You’ll have to ring me later.’

  ‘OK. I’ll have the others there, so I won’t do anything stupid,’ said Libby crossing her fingers.

  The following morning Libby drove Adam to Creekmarsh in the Renault and left him to find Mog while she went in search of Lewis.

  ‘He had to pop out, lovey,’ said Katie, when Libby put her head round the kitchen door after looking in the solar. ‘Don’t know where he’s gone. Said he wouldn’t be long though.’

  ‘OK, thanks,’ said Libby, and wandered off to find Mog and Adam, who now seemed to have disappeared. They weren’t standing over the pile of turf near the uncovered window, nor were they at the parterre. Libby scowled and began to walk towards the ha-ha. But the view down to the little sailing club’s boathouse was clear – no one was down there either. Heaving an irritated sigh, she retraced her steps and went back into the house. This time even Katie wasn’t there, so, with a shrug, she went through to the uninhabited part of the house and came to the blocked staircase.