Murder by the Sea

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Oh, I only organised Terry’s sister, and that was by accident,’ said Libby.

  ‘You helped with the set and the wardrobe, though, didn’t you?’ asked Fran.

  ‘A bit,’ said Libby honestly, ‘but most of it was the others. Peter and Ben, mainly.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘So, have you heard anything from Jane since Thursday?’

  Fran shook her head. ‘Ian phoned and said he’d talked to her and got the same result as I did, but he’d decided anyway to have a look a bit deeper. He said a grudging thank you.’ She grinned. ‘I do annoy him!’

  ‘So he’s going to look into Terry’s attack, is he?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but he intends to follow up on Rosa.’ Fran sighed. ‘Nothing more for us to do, though, Lib.’

  ‘No.’ Libby chewed her lip. ‘Do you think we ought to have asked Mike a bit more about that evening?’

  ‘When he found Terry? He was questioned by the police, wasn’t he? I don’t think he’d have responded very well to us poking about. Look at how he was when we went in last Monday.’

  ‘I just can’t help feeling …’ Libby tailed off. ‘Especially after Bruce said he saw that Italian again …’

  Fran’s eyes widened. ‘You think Mike Charteris is the disappearing Italian?’

  ‘He could be, couldn’t he?’

  ‘What on earth does a business contact of Bruce’s have to with Terry?’ asked Guy.

  ‘Oh, that was me in the first place,’ said Fran uncomfortably. ‘I was busy making connections all over the place, most of which had no relevance to each other at all.’

  ‘I said you were under too much pressure,’ said Guy, giving her a squeeze. ‘Oh, thanks, Harry.’ He handed one laden plate to Fran.

  ‘What about the old trout?’ asked Harry.

  ‘I’ll have mine later,’ said Libby, ‘on the FKO principal.’

  ‘FKO?’ asked Guy.

  ‘Family Keep Off,’ said Libby. ‘If you had guests that’s what you said to the children, to allow the guests to have what they wanted before the family got their mitts on it.’

  ‘I thought everyone knew that,’ said Fran, pouring brown sauce on top of her mashed potatoes, while Libby looked on with disfavour.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’m still suspicious of Mike. I was from the start. Especially when he kept trying to get into Jane’s apartment.’

  ‘Well, don’t say anything to Jane,’ said Fran. ‘She’s busy blanking it out at the moment. She’ll go to pieces if she starts worrying about Mike as well.’

  ‘Ah, but Terry’s there to look after her,’ said Libby. ‘I bet they move into the one flat, soon.’

  ‘When he’s strong enough,’ said Guy, with a wink.

  ‘Cheeky,’ said Libby and left them to their sausages.

  A little while later, the family tucked into their own meals, while Terry’s sister took a break.

  ‘Good stuff, gal,’ said Hetty. ‘Your idea, the music, was it?’

  Libby nodded modestly.

  ‘Lenny’s idea to have the party,’ said Flo, who’d joined them. Hetty raised her glass to him.

  ‘That gal’s good, too. Knows all the songs better’n I do.’

  ‘She sent us her set list and I downloaded all the words,’ said Peter.

  ‘That’s these, is it?’ asked Greg, lifting his song sheets. ‘Very clever. Not sure I’d know how, but Ben is teaching me his computer slowly, aren’t you boy?’

  Libby hid a grin at Ben being called “boy”.

  ‘It’s helping find some of the old army buddies, isn’t it, Dad?’ He smiled over at his father.

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Greg, pushing his plate aside. ‘Do you know, there are more of them still alive than I would have believed.’

  ‘There’s even talk of a reunion next year,’ said Ben.

  ‘Later this year,’ corrected Greg. ‘More chance of getting there.’ He twinkled across at Hetty who patted his arm.

  When Terry’s sister returned to the piano, the lights in the auditorium were lowered and a spotlight picked up Harry, who carried an enormous birthday cake down the central aisle to a deafening chorus of “Happy Birthday To You”. Hetty was persuaded to say a few gruff words of thanks, and the party resumed.

  By eleven o’clock people were beginning to leave and Terry’s sister, with the effusive thanks of most of Steeple Martin, drove back to her babysitter. Terry and Jane came up to thank Libby and Ben for the party.

  ‘It was so good to get out,’ said Jane, ‘and do something completely different.’

  ‘Yeah, really took our minds off things,’ added Terry.

  Fran and Guy were soon after them, as Guy had been chauffeur for all four of them, and as Libby and Ben waved them off, Libby yawned widely.

  ‘Have we got to do all the clearing up tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘No, tomorrow will do. Harry, bless him, is paying Donna and the current boy-in-the-kitchen to collect all the glasses and empties, so all we’ve got to do is strike the set, so to speak, and clean up.’

  ‘Good,’ said Libby. ‘Then if you don’t mind, I shall say goodbye to your mum and dad and go home.’

  ‘I’ll have to wait until everyone’s gone,’ said Ben. Libby sighed.

  ‘OK, I’ll wait too,’ she said, ‘but I’m still going to say goodnight to your parents. They must be whacked.’

  Hetty pronounced herself delighted with the whole affair and shepherded a quite perky Greg off to The Manor. ‘Done ’im good, too,’ she told Libby, as they trundled off.

  ‘All those people who it done good to,’ Libby said to Ben, as they finally walked down the Manor drive a little later. ‘Hetty, Greg, Jane, Terry – did it do you good, too?’

  ‘It made me very proud of my family and friends,’ said Ben, squeezing her arm, ‘and very pleased that, for a few days at least, we haven’t got anything to do at all.’

  Guy drew up in front of Peel House and switched off the engine.

  ‘Would you like a nightcap?’ offered Jane shyly. ‘It’s only half past eleven.’

  ‘That’s very kind,’ said Fran, ‘if you don’t mind, Guy?’

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ he said, and stretched. ‘I can leave the car here and collect it in the morning.’

  ‘Thanks for taking us,’ said Terry, as he clambered awkwardly out of the back seat. ‘Great party.’

  ‘Terry!’ Jane’s voice was suddenly sharp.

  ‘What?’ They all swung round.

  ‘Did you leave my lights on?’

  ‘No.’ Terry looked up. ‘It was daylight when we left.’

  ‘They’re on now.’

  Fran felt her heart thump hard in her chest, and reached out for Guy’s hand.

  ‘Don’t go in,’ she whispered.

  Terry looked back at her. ‘Got to,’ he said, and took the key from Jane.

  The four of them crowded silently into the hall, and Terry began slowly to climb the stairs, the other three following reluctantly. He paused outside his own front door and carefully unlocked it, peering inside. Shaking his head, he waved a hand at the others, indicating they shouldn’t follow, but Guy pushed past Jane and began to climb the final flight behind him.

  The light went out. Blackness descended on them all, and Fran felt herself suffocating. The silence was absolute. She wanted to call out, but couldn’t. Instead, she found Jane’s hand and hung on tight. For a long moment nothing happened. Then came a crash from somewhere above them and a deep groan.

  Something brushed past Fran and she screamed. ‘Stay there.’ Guy’s voice was muffled. Fran found the light switch and they stood looking down at the unconscious form of Mike Charteris on the lower landing.

  ‘Christ,’ said Guy.

  ‘Where did he come from? Why didn’t we see him on the way up?’ said Jane. ‘And where’s Terry?’

  ‘He went on up,’ said Guy.

  ‘So who did we hear?’ said Fran, the icy cold invading her again.

  ‘Terry!’ screamed J
ane and leapt up the stairs with Fran after her. They rounded the last bend and something loomed over them. A black shape that slowly moved to block their way, then, almost in slow motion, toppled towards them.

  Fran pulled Jane back against the wall as Terry slid gracefully down the stairs on his front.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  ‘BLOODY HELL,’ SAID GUY as he knelt to look at the back of Terry’s head. Fran squeezed past and pulling her mobile out of her bag went down to check on Mike, who still lay on the landing. She punched in 999 and called for police and an ambulance, by which time Guy had joined her.

  ‘Mike must have been here when we came up in the dark,’ said Fran, switching off the phone. ‘I felt something go past me.’ She frowned. ‘But I didn’t hear anything after that. I don’t get it. Oh, God.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘That means they’re still there.’

  ‘Jane!’ Guy ran quickly to pull the weeping girl down on to the landing. ‘There might still be someone here.’

  Fran crept past Mike, who, she noticed, seemed to be breathing quite normally, and down the stairs. The front door was open. She caught her breath again, then with relief saw the blue light of a police car coming along Cliff Terrace.

  The next half an hour was pandemonium. The police herded them all into Terry’s flat, and while the paramedics attended to and subsequently removed Mike and Terry, searched Jane’s flat. Then they began to take brief statements.

  ‘Are you in trouble again?’

  Fran looked up with relief. ‘Ian!’ she said.

  ‘Sir,’ said both the policemen.

  Constable Maiden bounded into the room and beamed at Fran and Jane.

  ‘I suppose we couldn’t go up to Jane’s flat now they’ve searched it, could we?’ asked Fran. ‘They’ll want to search in here and Mike’s flat, too, won’t they?’

  ‘Crime scene, sir,’ said one of the uniforms.

  ‘Well, where can we go?’ said Fran.

  ‘It’s all right, Constable,’ said Connell. ‘I’ll take the responsibility.’ He shepherded them all out.

  In the top flat, Fran went into Jane’s kitchen and put the kettle on, more because she needed something to do than any real desire for tea or coffee.

  ‘I need to see Terry,’ Jane was sobbing into Guy’s shoulder. Connell was looking exasperated.

  ‘We’ll run you to the hospital as soon as we can,’ he said. ‘We’ve just got to establish whether anything’s missing or there’s any damage.’

  Reluctantly, Jane got to her feet and allowed Fran to lead her round the flat.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, when they came back to the living room.

  ‘Nothing missing?’ Connell frowned. ‘You didn’t look very hard.’

  ‘I haven’t got very much,’ said Jane.

  ‘Were they disturbed, do you think?’ asked Guy.

  ‘They?’

  ‘We think there were two of them,’ said Fran, and explained.

  ‘So, you think Mr Charteris heard them and came to investigate? Then when you came in they knocked Mr Baker on the head and escaped?’

  ‘Seems like it,’ said Guy.

  ‘So – what happened?’ asked Jane, who had (temporarily, Fran was sure) stopped crying.

  ‘We haven’t had much time to work it out, but you said the lights came on again, which was when you saw Mr Charteris?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jane.

  ‘I switched them on,’ said Fran.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, it would appear that Mr Baker came up the stairs, whoever was here switched off the lights and hit him from behind, then ran down the stairs. You felt him go past, Mrs Castle. He must have put Mr Charteris out of action earlier.’ Connell frowned. ‘Very quick thinking.’

  ‘Will this be your case now?’ asked Fran after a moment while they all took this in.

  ‘I’ll liaise with the team who investigated the first attack,’ said Connell, standing up. ‘Now, we’ll get Miss Maurice to hospital and you and Mr Wolfe can go home, Mrs Castle. And please don’t even think of poking your nose into this investigation.’

  Fran bit her lip, and nodded. ‘Will you be all right, Jane?’ she asked. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘Miss Maurice will be fine,’ said Connell. ‘Thank you, Mrs Castle. I shall want to talk to you again tomorrow, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Guy and Fran together.

  Outside, they had to convince the officers on guard duty that they had permission to drive Guy’s car away, then run the gauntlet of interested bystanders and one persistent young man with a camera and a tape recorder.

  ‘I wonder if that was Jane’s boss?’ said Fran as they finally made it into Victoria Terrace and down to the square.

  Guy grunted.

  Once inside Coastguard Cottage, he found Fran’s bottle of gin and poured them both large measures topped up with tonic.

  ‘So will you?’ he said, leaning back in his armchair and watching her quizzically.

  ‘Will I what?’ Fran leant her head against the cushion and closed her eyes.

  ‘Poke your nose into this investigation?’

  Fran opened her eyes again. ‘Not if I can help it,’ she said.

  ‘Libby will.’

  ‘Not without me, she can’t,’ said Fran. ‘And I bet you anything you like Ian will be asking me for “any thoughts” within a day or so, whatever he says now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He asked me about Andrei’s body – the body on the island – in the first place. He allowed the Kent and Coast investigation with me along. And he got his identification of Andrei’s body through me. He’ll ask.’ She closed her eyes again.

  ‘But this time you’re too closely involved,’ said Guy, leaning forward and grasping her hand. ‘We all could have been hurt tonight. You’re actually a witness.’

  ‘I don’t think that will make any difference,’ said Fran tiredly. ‘Rather the reverse.’

  Guy sighed.

  Libby and Ben, bidden to Sunday lunch at Flo’s little house, along with Hetty and Greg, wandered in a desultory fashion round The Oast House Theatre on the following morning. Harry’s minions had already done most of the clearing up, and Ben said he refused to dismantle “Hetty’s Bar” without the help of his cousins.

  At twelve thirty, Flo being insistent that lunch was not lunch unless served at one o’clock, they collected Hetty and Greg from the Manor and strolled down to Maltby Close.

  ‘Hear the news this mornin’?’ asked Flo, having provided them all with drinks, and an ashtray for Libby.

  ‘Local, she means,’ said Lenny. ‘Radio Kent.’

  ‘Don’t listen to it,’ said Ben.

  ‘Some bloke got ’is ’ead bashed in for a second time down in Nethergate,’ said Flo. ‘That’s where your Fran lives, ain’t it?’

  ‘What?’ said Ben and Libby together. Libby dabbed at the red wine she’d splashed onto her jeans. ‘Did it say who? Where?’

  ‘’Is own ’ome,’ said Lenny. ‘Wasn’t takin’ that much notice till they said Nethergate.’

  ‘Terry,’ said Ben and Libby, looking at each other.

  ‘Not that young feller whose sister played last night?’ said Hetty.

  ‘Oh, my gawd,’ said Flo.

  ‘I’d better ring Fran,’ said Libby. ‘She might not know.’

  Outside in Flo’s tiny garden, Libby punched in Fran’s number.

  Five minutes later she was back inside.

  ‘She was there,’ she announced dramatically. ‘They all were. Inside Jane’s house.’

  Everyone started speaking at once, but eventually Hetty called order and told Libby to tell her story.

  ‘Are you going down there?’ asked Greg.

  ‘No.’ Libby shook her head. ‘She and Guy are spending the day quietly. Connell had them into the station this morning to sign statements, and Jane is still at the hospital, apparently.’

  ‘How are Terry and Mike now, does she know?’ asked
Ben.

  ‘Only what Ian told them this morning. Mike was going to be allowed home, he wasn’t badly hurt, apparently, but Terry was being kept in. I don’t know what state he’s in, poor bloke.’

  ‘It could be serious, couldn’t it?’ asked Greg. ‘If he’s only just come out of hospital after a bad bang on the head?’

  ‘And he fell on his front.’ Libby winced. ‘That won’t have done his ribs any good.’

  ‘Nothing we can do at the moment, then?’ said Ben.

  ‘No.’ Libby sighed. ‘Nothing.’

  Flo provided, as usual, a splendid traditional roast and wouldn’t let anyone help her clear up, especially Hetty. Ben and Libby left the four older people dozing in armchairs and decided to pop in to the pub on the way home.

  The afternoon was mild, if cloudy, and they took their drinks into the garden, where children and smokers made an unlikely amalgamation.

  ‘Fran says Mike was already unconscious when Terry was hit, so it couldn’t have been him,’ said Libby.

  ‘Mike? Did you think it could have been him?’

  ‘I told you I was suspicious of him, didn’t? Turning up all pat as soon as Jane advertised the flat. And then being the one to find Terry, when nobody else saw him.’

  ‘But I thought he’d been ruled out anyway?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ sighed Libby. ‘He’s just an ordinary bloke down here on a contract. His references all checked out. He just seemed very keen on getting into Jane’s flat.’

  ‘Single bloke – attractive girl – can’t see anything suspicious in that,’ laughed Ben.

  ‘No, I know. Pity, though. At least we would have known who the attacker was then. Now it’s just some complete stranger.’

  ‘What about this connection with the Italian girl?’ asked Ben. ‘Is it anything to do with her?’

  ‘I can’t see how,’ said Libby. ‘Although there was the piece of paper. I’m sure Fran will have given Ian all the information by now, so he’ll be looking into it thoroughly. Bet he asks for Fran’s help.’

  ‘Hasn’t he already?’

  ‘No.’ Libby giggled. ‘Apparently he told her not to poke her nose in!’

  Ben laughed. ‘Doesn’t sound like Ian.’

  ‘No, but I reckon he’s a bit confused at the moment, like the rest of us. Fran’s been blowing hot and cold for weeks, and he doesn’t know where he is.’