Murder in Bloom

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘KATIE DID?’ SQUEAKED LIBBY.

  ‘Unbelievable, ain’t it?’ Lewis was breathing heavily. ‘Seems she knew Tony better than I thought. She come down here with him when he come to see German Shepherd and he – Shepherd – gave her some mem – mem – memory thing.’

  ‘Memento?’ suggested Libby.

  ‘That’s it. Anyway, that’s what she gave the police.’

  ‘Other people would have touched it, though,’ said Libby dubiously. ‘How did they isolate it?’

  Lewis made an explosive sound. ‘You ask the most fucking awful questions,’ he said. ‘How do I know, for fuck’s sake?’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Libby soothed. ‘Look, I’m sitting in Fran’s car at the moment. I’ll phone you back when I get indoors.’

  She explained as she got out of the car. ‘So, do you want to come in and hear what’s going on?’

  Fran looked torn. ‘So much for non-involvement again,’ she said. ‘Oh, go on. You can make me some tea. I didn’t get one at Lewis’s.’

  ‘No,’ said Libby, ‘I didn’t fancy that stewed tea Katie made for Cindy.’

  In the kitchen, she removed Sidney from the bread bin and put the kettle on the Rayburn. ‘One day,’ she said, ‘I shall buy an electric kettle. So much quicker.’

  ‘Only when you come in like we have now,’ said Fran. ‘When you’re at home you keep it simmering just off the hotplate, don’t you?’

  ‘Mmm. S’pose.’ Libby went in search of the phone and punched in Lewis’s number. ‘Lewis? Now, tell me the whole story.’

  ‘I’ve told you,’ said Lewis with a sigh. ‘It turns out Katie knew Tony before I came on the scene. He helped her get in to the outside catering thing.’

  ‘How did they meet?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Libby could almost see Lewis frowning. ‘She didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘What did she actually say? Was it something like “he was a great help to me when I first started out”?’

  ‘Could have been,’ said Lewis slowly. ‘Anyway she knew him then, and German Shepherd had a couple of dos down here and Tony brought her down to help out. So she met ’em all.’

  ‘I’m surprised she’s never told you.’

  ‘She says she assumed I knew.’

  ‘But what about when the skeleton turned up? Surely she would have said something then?’

  ‘Well, she didn’t know anything about Kenneth being killed, did she? If it is Kenneth.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Libby. ‘But why did she give the police this memento, whatever it was?’

  ‘They’d found out the house used to belong to Shepherd, and they wanted to find out if the body was him, didn’t they? And when they interviewed her it all came out, so she gave them the – thing.’

  ‘What is it? The thing?’

  ‘A scarf of some sort, she said.’

  ‘Well.’ Libby looked over at Fran. ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘How do you mean? I don’t do nothing. I just sit here until the police have finished with it all. Then maybe I can get back to real life.’ He sighed again. ‘Although I don’t know whether I want to stay here, now.’

  ‘I bet.’ Libby nodded sympathetically.

  ‘Anyway, I just thought you’d like to know.’ He sounded wistful.

  ‘Thanks, Lewis. Chin up. I’ll call you tomorrow. Is Adam on his way home?’

  ‘Dunno. I’ll go and find out and give him a nudge.’

  ‘He’s fed up,’ Libby told Fran, when she’d finished relating Katie’s story, ‘and I don’t wonder. I still think it’s odd Katie didn’t tell him all this when she first worked for him.’

  ‘Sounds as though she was hiding something,’ said Fran, accepting a mug of tea. ‘And she definitely knew Cindy before.’

  ‘That was why she was so mad at finding her there,’ said Libby, sitting down at the table. ‘I wondered why she was so anti.’

  ‘Cindy was treating her like the help.’

  ‘Which is explained by the fact that the last time they’d met, Katie was the help.’ Libby frowned down at her mug. ‘But it doesn’t explain her loyalty to Shepherd.’

  ‘How do we know about that?’

  ‘She was so sure he didn’t do it, wasn’t she? When we were there earlier.’

  ‘And she still wasn’t admitting she’d known him.’ Fran shook her head. ‘Curiouser and curiouser.’

  ‘She did say she’d met him.’

  ‘Yes. And she had told the police. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised she hadn’t told us. We’re nothing to do with it, really.’

  ‘Although when I first came over to talk to Lewis she was trying to convince me to come back and support him.’

  ‘She probably didn’t realise then how far it was going to go,’ said Fran. ‘And don’t forget, West wasn’t dead then.’

  ‘Hadn’t been found, anyway,’ said Libby. ‘No, you’re right. I expect she’s as annoyed as Lewis about getting involved. Perhaps they should both go back to London.’

  ‘Does Lewis keep a home in London?’

  ‘Oh – I don’t know.’ Libby looked up, surprised. ‘Never thought to ask.’

  ‘Well, if you speak to him tomorrow ask him and suggest he goes back to it for a bit. He was in London when the skeleton was first found, wasn’t he? Adam told you.’

  ‘Well, perhaps that means he’s got somewhere to go back to,’ said Libby, pushing her mug away. ‘I suppose I’d better get on with feeding the hungry hordes.’

  ‘And I’d better get back.’ Fran stood up. ‘I’m surprised Guy hasn’t phoned to find out where I am.’

  Later, over dinner, Libby told Adam and Ben about Pickering House, and then about the latest episode in the Creekmarsh mystery.

  ‘Yeah, I saw the police,’ said Adam. ‘They didn’t come near me, though, which is odd, if you think about it.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Well, if they were looking for Cindy, who had skipped, by all accounts, then surely they would have searched the grounds and asked me – or anyone else working there – if they’d seen her.’

  ‘Perhaps they found her, then,’ said Libby.

  ‘Lewis would have let you know,’ said Adam with a grin. ‘You’re his mother confessor.’

  ‘He’s quite rude to his mother confessor, then,’ said Libby.

  ‘Well, you are a bit pushy,’ said Adam.

  ‘I’m not!’ gasped Libby.

  ‘Inquisitive, then,’ said Ben, patting her hand. Libby scowled and went to fetch cheese and biscuits.

  Lewis did call in the morning.

  ‘Adam said the police didn’t question him yesterday,’ said Libby. ‘We wondered why.’

  ‘They didn’t need to,’ said Lewis. ‘They know what happened.’

  ‘What?’ asked Libby, her stomach sinking in anticipation.

  ‘It was what your mate said. The sailing club.’

  ‘I suggested the sailing club in the first place,’ said Libby, indignation momentarily overcoming apprehension.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Lewis. ‘Anyway, they went to have a look.’

  ‘We know that,’ said Libby, exasperated. ‘We were there.’

  ‘They found something.’

  ‘Oh, God, what?’

  ‘A boat was missing.’

  Relief whooshed through Libby and she sat down abruptly. ‘I thought you were going to say they’d found her body.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Anyway, they reckon she must have collected her bags, shot down there and taken off.’

  ‘To where, though? Have they managed to trace her?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. I don’t understand any of it.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Lib
by. ‘How do they know she took the boat?’

  ‘They found something of hers, I think. Something she dropped?’

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Libby. ‘Not a cigarette end, I suppose? With a distinctive lipstick colour on the end?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ Lewis sounded bewildered. ‘Anyway, she didn’t smoke.’

  Libby sighed. ‘It was a joke, Lewis,’ she said. ‘You know, like in detective stories.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘So you’ve got no idea what it was?’

  ‘I’ve told you, no. Look, I gotta go. Katie and me are going shopping this morning, and I might pop back up to London for a few days. Ad and Mog can carry on here. They know what to do – at least Mog does.’

  ‘Right,’ said Libby. ‘Will Katie go to London, too?’

  ‘Yeah. She can go back to her flat and come to me during the days.’

  ‘Have you got a flat in London, then?’

  ‘’Course I have! Only rented, see, I took it on when I first went on to Housey Housey, and I was going to buy something else when Creekmarsh came up.’

  ‘Right. Well, keep your mobile on so we can ring you if anything comes up.’

  ‘The police will let me know soon enough,’ said Lewis gloomily.

  ‘If anything else comes up, I meant,’ said Libby.

  ‘Ad’ll let me know about the garden. They’re going to plant up that little back bit next week so’s it looks pretty.’

  ‘Bit late in the year, isn’t it?’ said Libby.

  ‘How would I know?’ said Lewis. ‘Mog says they can do it, and they did it loads of times on Housey Housey, didn’t matter what time of year it was. And we’ve done it on my show, too.’

  ‘Right. I’ll talk to you soon, then, and see you when you come back,’ said Libby.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Lewis, sounded unconvinced. Libby was rather afraid he’d had enough of the Sarjeant and Castle investigating team.

  She reported all of this to Fran in another telephone call. ‘What do you think?’ she asked finally. ‘Is it a con? Has she really disappeared on a rowing boat?’

  ‘There was certainly the feeling that she’d been there, although I didn’t see anything you might call evidence. It’s a pity Lewis didn’t know what they found.’

  ‘Could you ask Ian?’

  Fran snorted. ‘Don’t be daft, Lib. Of course I can’t. Oh, and by the way, Guy invited him to the wedding. Seemed to think it was a good idea. And Jane and Terry are coming.’

  ‘Great,’ said Libby. ‘So it’s all organised, is it?’

  ‘Not the outfits. How about you and me going shopping tomorrow?’

  ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow! It’ll be horribly crowded.’

  ‘Don’t be a spoilsport,’ said Fran. ‘Go on. We could even go up to London.’

  Libby thought about it, tempted. ‘OK,’ she said eventually. ‘You’re on. I’ll get Ben to take me to Canterbury to catch the train.’

  ‘I’ll tell you which one I’m catching from Nethergate then,’ said Fran. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’

  ‘She sounded really excited,’ Libby told Ben later. ‘I didn’t have the heart to tell her I hate shopping in London.’

  ‘Well, I think it’ll be good for you to get away from all the murder and mayhem,’ said Ben, pouring her a whisky.

  ‘I think it’s got away from us,’ said Libby with a sigh. ‘We’d decided it wasn’t any of our business before Lewis called us back in, but now I think he’s had enough of it and has gone back to London. Apart from Ad still working over there, it would appear that our connection to it all has stopped.’

  ‘We’ll have to find you something else to keep you interested,’ said Ben, coming to sit next to her on the sofa.

  ‘There’s Steeple Farm,’ said Libby, ‘if Lewis is still going to take it on, or I suppose I could project manage myself if it came to it.’

  ‘There is,’ said Ben, ‘and there’s also your painting. You’ve been neglecting that a bit lately, haven’t you?’

  ‘I took some in to Guy only a week or so ago,’ said Libby, ‘but yes. I need to get going again with those. Pity it feels like churning out a production line.’

  ‘Just be grateful you can do it,’ said Ben. ‘It pays for all your little necessities.’

  Libby raised her glass. ‘Like this, you mean?’

  ‘And those,’ said Ben, retrieving the battered packet of cigarettes from the log basket.

  Libby sighed. ‘I will try and give them up,’ she said, ‘but I still feel resentful.’

  ‘Don’t do it for the government,’ said Ben, patting her hand. ‘Do it for me.’

  She laughed. ‘I’ll see,’ she said. ‘And now I’d better get some supper. Adam’s gone into Canterbury with Mog, so he won’t be here.’

  ‘House to ourselves, have we?’ Ben leant over and blew on her neck. ‘Ought to make the most of it, then, shouldn’t we?’

  So they did.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  FRAN AND LIBBY SPENT a tiring but ultimately successful day in London. Libby’s daughter Belinda met them for lunch, but Fran could not be persuaded to invite her own daughter Lucy.

  ‘She’d whine about bringing the children and then try and insist I went out to Tulse Hill to see them instead,’ she said. ‘I can do without that.’

  On Sunday the weather went back to being late spring-like and stayed like it for the next few days. Adam went back to work at Creekmarsh, Mog joined him for a few hours a day and Lewis and Katie apparently stayed in London. Adam reported that no police had been seen and everything seemed to have returned to normal. Ben and Libby had another look round Steeple Farm and decided that Lewis’s interest had been fleeting and born of the circumstances at the time. They would have to go it alone. Luckily, Mog had contacts with reliable local builders, one of whom was a qualified lime plasterer and had been employed by English Heritage on restoration work in the area. He was able to make a start on the odd bits of refurbishment that would be needed, but before that Libby and Ben had to decide what extremities of bad taste would have to be ripped out.

  Libby regularly pushed down the uncomfortable feeling that she was doing the wrong thing, and found herself going round her cottage talking to it. She kept reminding herself that she wasn’t selling it, and only moving into Steeple Farm as a sort of caretaker, but it didn’t make any difference.

  Ben, usually sensitive to her moods, had happily accepted what he saw as the new situation and spent the evenings talking renovations. He had also thrown himself into the role of Guy’s best man, and was helping move some of Guy’s belongings and furniture into Fran’s still sparsely furnished Coastguard Cottage.

  ‘Don’t you mind?’ asked Libby curiously. ‘You so wanted to be on your own at first.’

  ‘That was at first,’ said Fran. ‘And I had a lot to work through, didn’t I? All those memories and discoveries from the past.’

  ‘And Ian didn’t help, did he?’

  ‘It wasn’t Ian’s fault,’ sighed Fran. ‘It was me. It was the novelty of having a younger man fancying me. It confused me for a bit.’

  ‘And he is very attractive,’ said Libby slyly.

  ‘Yes, he is.’ There was a short silence. ‘But not as attractive as Guy,’ Fran said eventually, and Libby smiled.

  The Skeleton in the Garden case, as the media referred to it, slipped to the inside pages of the newspapers and wasn’t mentioned at all on the television news. Neither was Tony West’s murder, although the press hadn’t been told of the link between the two cases. If they had been, thought Libby, it might still have been at least page two news.

  On Thursday, two weeks before Fran and Guy’s wedding and two weeks since Libby first met Lewis, Fran called Libby.

  ‘I know this
sounds silly,’ she said, ‘but I had a dream last night.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes. And I’m pretty sure it meant Cindy was in England before Sunday.’

  ‘Oh, Fran, that doesn’t seem very –’

  ‘I know what you’re going to say, Lib,’ interrupted Fran, ‘but it is based on something concrete.’

  ‘Her reaction when she found out he was dead, though. Lewis said she was hysterical.’

  ‘Yet she didn’t say anything about going to see him when she arrived at Creekmarsh, did she? Wouldn’t you have thought she would have asked if she could at least call him after Lewis told her the whole story?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Libby slowly. ‘And she didn’t, did she? You would have thought she would want to know where the money was, as it was due to be hers eventually. And the other thing was, she actually told Lewis all about knowing Tony, and him covering up the murder.’

  ‘Why didn’t Lewis mention it to her then?’

  ‘I think he thought he had, or that she already knew.’

  ‘Her behaviour doesn’t ring true. I’m going to try and find out a bit more.’

  ‘Fran! We’re out of it,’ said Libby. ‘Why do you want to do this?’

  ‘Because I can’t get it out of my mind. I’m going to see if I can track down any historical references to Creekmarsh.’

  ‘What good will that do?’ asked Libby, bewildered.

  ‘Hiding places,’ said Fran crisply. ‘I’ll let you know if I find anything.’

  ‘I’m going to look too,’ said Libby, and switching off the phone went straight to the computer.

  At first, it looked as though there was little on the Internet about Creekmarsh, but by dint of following seemingly insignificant clues, she eventually chanced on a local website about villages in the area with a whole page about the village, the church and the house.

  Creekmarsh Place had been built towards the end of the sixteenth century, and most of the history concerned the families through whose hands it had passed. Part of the house had been destroyed by fire in the eighteenth century and there were rumours of passages running between the church, the house and the inn, although none of these had been found, and both the church and the inn had been rebuilt during the nineteenth century, so it was unlikely that, if they ever had existed, they continued to do so now.