Murder in Bloom

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘I’m going to ring him now,’ said Katie and went to the house phone on the wall. He won’t answer, thought Libby, and sure enough, after a few minutes Katie tutted and put the phone back on its rest.

  ‘He’s got his blasted phone turned off,’ she said, going to pour boiling water into the teapot. ‘Where’s the perishing boy got to?’

  Libby’s mind was racing like a hamster in a wheel. If only Fran was there.

  ‘Katie,’ she said carefully, ‘where’s Edie?’

  ‘Upstairs,’ said Katie, stirring the pot. ‘I was with her when we heard your crash. I’ll take her a cup of this.’ ‘I would,’ said Libby, thinking, with a sinking

  feeling, of the small woman who adored her son.

  ‘Or do you want to take it up to her? Make a change from me?’ said Katie pouring tea into three mugs.

  ‘No, thanks, she knows you better,’ said Libby. Katie gave her an odd look, shrugged and picked up a mug. ‘Won’t be a mo,’ she said. ‘Help yourself to biscuits.’ She waved at the plate on the table and disappeared towards the main stairs.

  Libby sat very still, wondering if she should call Fran, or the police, or even Adam again. She realised with some surprise she hadn’t once thought of calling Ben.

  The house was very quiet. She wondered what would happen about the ruined staircase and whether it would be worth restoring it. And of course, the cellars below. If they were intact. Her mind began to wander to the other putative tunnels and the business of smuggling. Had Gerald known about the tunnels? And what if he had? Had Tony? Had he told Lewis?

  Libby shivered again and sat up straighter, clasping both hands round her mug and wishing Katie would come back. Then, to her relief, the sound of a car on the gravelled drive. Mog and Adam had arrived.

  But there were no voices. Only footsteps on the gravel, coming towards the door. They paused, and Libby bit her lip. Perspiration sprung out on along her hairline and her upper lip and her heart was beating so fast she thought she might faint. And then the footstep behind her and the hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Hello, Lib,’ said Lewis.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  ‘LEWIS,’ SAID LIBBY FROM a dry mouth. ‘Where have you been?’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t Katie tell you?’

  Libby shook her head, afraid she would never be able to speak again. She remembered Ben telling Lewis about how much trouble she’d been in during other investigations and how horrified he’d seemed. And how fond of him she’d become. She closed her eyes for a moment to try and calm her brain, but it was no good. The hamster wheel was back.

  ‘Libby, you look awful.’ Lewis moved round the table and sat down in Katie’s chair, feeling the teapot. ‘Still warm. Where’s Katie?’

  No point in not telling him, thought Libby. ‘With your mum,’ she said.

  ‘Right. Well, I’ll pop up and see them,’ he said, ‘unless I can do anything for you? You look buggered, girl. What’ve you been doing?’

  ‘Nothing,’ croaked Libby, hoping against hope to hear the sounds of another car on the drive.

  ‘OK.’ Lewis shrugged. ‘I’ll just pop upstairs, then.’ And he was gone.

  Libby realised she was covered in cold perspiration and that she’d been holding her breath. Even her shoulders ached with tension. She tried to relax and attempted a sip of her rapidly cooling tea. She spilt it. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs. Swallowing hard, she turned towards the door, repeating in her head like a mantra “Adam and Mog will be here soon, Adam and Mog will be here soon.”

  Her shoulders sagged with relief as Katie came back into the kitchen.

  ‘You all right?’ Libby asked through still dry lips.

  Katie sat down and shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Lewis?’ whispered Libby.

  ‘He’s back,’ said Katie. She stood up again. ‘Come with me. I’ve got something to show you.’

  Libby stood up. ‘Will he – he’s with his mum?’

  ‘They’re fine,’ said Katie wearily. ‘Come on. You might as well see this.’

  Libby followed her out of the kitchen and across to the door, still slightly ajar as Libby had seen it earlier.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Katie, going to a cupboard by the side of the small fireplace, which held an equally small gas fire. She took out a large scrapbook and what looked like a photograph album. ‘I hoped no one would ever have to see these,’ she said, ‘but there’s no hope for it now.’

  Libby watched as Katie pulled up a small table and sat down beside it. ‘There,’ she said. ‘Now you’ll know all about it.’

  ‘About Lewis?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Lewis?’ Katie frowned. ‘Why should it be about Lewis?’

  ‘Because –’ Libby stopped as her heart once again performed a somersault. ‘Who, then?’

  ‘Who? Gerald, of course,’ said Katie.

  Libby looked down at the album and tried to sort out her thoughts. She was staring at a family group: a young man, hardly more than a boy, a girl of the same age and a baby, about six months old. They were a happy, laughing group, the baby wearing a brimmed hat which could have denoted either sex. Not wanting to comment, she turned the page. And now the picture was similar to the group of young people on a beach Fran had found in the solar. Libby kept her eyes on the page and tried to think of something to say.

  A movement from Katie made her look up. As she did so, Katie’s hand came up to cover her mouth, while her eyes stared over Libby’s shoulder.

  ‘That’s where it was after all, then, Katie,’ said Lewis. Libby didn’t turn round but heard him come round the table. He looked down at Katie. ‘Look, Lib,’ he said. ‘Just look.’

  ‘At what?’ said Libby.

  ‘Behind you.’

  Libby half turned in her chair and found herself staring into a black void where a section of panelling had swung open revealing stout locks on the inside. Libby turned back to Katie, bewildered.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked. She looked up at Lewis. ‘Is it the strong room?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ he said, still looking at Katie. ‘It is, isn’t it, Katie?’

  Katie took her hands from her mouth and nodded.

  ‘And this?’ Libby turned the page back to the photograph of the little family. ‘Is this you?’

  Katie nodded again.

  ‘With Gerald,’ said Libby.

  ‘And our son,’ said Katie. ‘Tony.’

  Silence fell in the little room. Both Lewis and Libby watched as Katie took the album and began turning the pages. Eventually she looked up.

  ‘You guessed, didn’t you?’ she said to Lewis. ‘Just now, upstairs with your mum.’

  Lewis nodded. ‘And then I had a message on my phone from Adam,’ he said, ‘telling me that there was an opening at the end of the tunnel that Libby had found. If I got here before he did I should check if you were all right. So I came along the tunnel and here I am.’

  ‘Cindy?’ Libby’s voice cracked.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He turned back to Katie. ‘Tell us, Katie.’

  ‘I was going to tell Libby. That’s why I got these out.’ She gestured towards the album and scrapbook.

  ‘I was only seventeen,’ she said, addressing Libby. ‘Gerry was twenty and still at his acting school.’

  ‘RADA,’ put in Lewis.

  ‘Yes. Well, these things happen, and I had a little boy. Anthony we called him. But we talked about it and decided it wouldn’t be good for Gerry to saddle himself with a wife and family then. It was at the beginning of the sixties, see, and there were all sorts of opportunities, he felt.’

  ‘What about you, though? It was really hard for an unmarried mother in those days,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh, I was
all right. My old mum was a good sort and my dad had long since gone, so we all stayed together and faced down the neighbours. Gerry sent what money he could and I trained to be a shorthand typist. Tony grew up with me and my mum and I don’t think he wanted for nothing. Gerry stayed in touch but didn’t come to see us.’ She paused, looking again at the photographs. ‘Then one day he phones and says would Tony like to meet him. Tony’s about twenty himself now. So off he goes and from then on Gerry introduces him to people – not as his son, of course – who can help him in his career.’

  She shrugged. ‘Well, you know the rest. Tony made himself into a businessman and he helped me get into the outside catering business, Gerry helped me get into the OB business and then – well, then young Kenneth married that little tart.’

  ‘She didn’t look like a tart,’ ventured Libby.

  ‘Huh! You should have seen her a few years ago. Showed everything she’d got and that much make-up you wouldn’t believe. This time, she comes round looking like butter wouldn’t melt. I could hardly believe it myself.’ Katie stopped, a brooding expression on her face.

  ‘When did you first see her?’ asked Libby.

  ‘This time? When I got back here and she was in the kitchen. Gawd, I was livid.’

  ‘Why were you so livid?’

  ‘Because I knew what had happened three years ago, and I’d kept quiet for Gerry and Tony. And here she was going to stir it all up again.’

  ‘But they’d already dug up the skeleton,’ said Lewis. ‘It was already stirred up.’

  ‘And I’d said nothing, had I? Nothing to be gained, I thought. Then I gave the police Gerry’s scarf. I thought it would just prove the skeleton wasn’t him, I didn’t realise it would prove it was Kenneth.’

  ‘So what really happened when Kenneth was killed?’ asked Libby gently. ‘And why did Tony help cover it up?’

  ‘It was when Kenny went into that Dungeon Trial. Gerry was beginning to show signs of dementia, so he came down here and signed for Tony to have power of attorney. And he made his will. Then down comes Miss Glamour Puss to “look after him” she says. Huh.’ Katie paused and pushed a hand through her short hair. ‘Making up to him she was, really. So Kenny comes out of the show and Tony drives him down here. With me.’

  ‘With you?’ gasped Libby.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Katie. ‘Miss Cindy Dale wasn’t pleased to see me last week, I can tell you.’

  ‘So then what?’ asked Lewis, leaning forward.

  ‘We find Cindy trying to – well – get into bed with Gerald. At least Kenny did. He went a bit mental, I think; well, you would, wouldn’t you? And she lashed out and killed him. Tony and me came in and Tony tried to calm things down. Cindy was hysterical and Gerry was upset. He didn’t really understand what was going on.’

  ‘So Tony arranged to get Cindy and Gerry away and bury Kenneth in the grounds?’ said Libby.

  ‘It seemed best all round,’ said Katie. ‘Then we could forget it ever happened. Trouble was it was expensive to keep Gerry in those homes, especially with extra security.’

  Sally, thought Libby.

  ‘So Tony sold Creekmarsh to me?’ said Lewis.

  Katie looked slightly ashamed. ‘Yes. He said you wouldn’t ask questions.’

  ‘Bloody idiot, I was, wasn’t I?’ Lewis snorted.

  ‘And then the skeleton turned up,’ said Libby. ‘And after that, Cindy. When did she tell you she’d killed Tony?’

  Katie’s eyes flew to Libby’s face. ‘You knew?’

  ‘Well, the police found evidence,’ said Libby.

  ‘After they’d had her in for questioning, when she came back here. Lewis had gone to call you and she came down here wanting this tea Lewis had asked me to make. She told me then. She and Kenneth hadn’t known Tony was my son before. So I told her then and I think she was a bit well – shocked. She said she’d found out Tony was Gerry’s son and mentioned in the will.’

  ‘Was he?’

  Katie nodded. ‘Divided between me and Tony, Gerry’s estate. Me now, for all the good it’ll do me.’

  ‘Are you actually saying you killed her? But how? She completely disappeared.’ Libby frowned.

  Katie nodded towards the strong room. ‘Gerry, Tony and me always knew that was there and where it led to. I told Cindy to hide down there and I’d put everyone off the scent.’

  ‘So she was in here while we were searching and you were sitting at the kitchen table?’ said Lewis.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But why? She’d just been released by the police,’ said Libby.

  ‘I told her they’d got new evidence. And of course, they had, although I didn’t know it. She believed me. Then I went down the passage and left a little ring on the landing stage for them to find, and set a dinghy loose. The police thought she’d done a runner.’

  ‘So did we,’ said Libby. ‘It was very clever.’

  ‘Libby!’ Lewis gave her a disgusted look.

  ‘Then I went back and said to go down to the icehouse, I’d see her later.’ Katie looked down at her hands. ‘And I did.’

  ‘And the dinghy?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Oh, it drifted in on its own.’ Katie laughed humourlessly. ‘Funny that.’

  ‘Why have you told us now?’ said Libby.

  ‘You were getting so close.’ Katie sighed. ‘And I’m so tired.’

  ‘What were you going to do in the end?’ asked Libby.

  Katie sighed. ‘Wait for it to go away. I was going to give notice,’ she nodded at Lewis, ‘and go back to London. Maybe retire. Go travelling.’ She shook her head. ‘Somehow I didn’t believe it.’ She put her hands on the little table and pushed herself to her feet. ‘Come on then. Time to go for the police.’

  Lewis looked shamefaced. ‘I think they might be here,’ he said. Libby looked a question. ‘Adam said you sounded frightened, so I called them.’

  ‘What were you frightened of?’ asked Katie, who by this time was putting on an outdoor coat.

  ‘I wasn’t sure,’ said Libby, avoiding Lewis’s eye.

  ‘Not me?’ His voice rose several notches. ‘Why, for Gawd’s sake?’

  ‘I’m really not sure,’ said Libby. ‘Can we talk about it later?’

  They followed Katie into the kitchen where, to Libby’s astonishment, Adam, Mog, Ian Connell, Sergeant Maiden and Ben were grouped round the kitchen table. Adam rushed at Libby, while Ian gently took Katie’s arm and escorted her outside, murmuring the official warning to her as he did so. Libby saw her nodding as she left the house, and suddenly burst into tears.

  ‘My mum!’ said Lewis, and shot upstairs, while Ben and Adam offered hugs and handkerchiefs to the weeping woman at the table.

  Five minutes later Edie appeared in the kitchen with Lewis, her eyes suspiciously bright, but looking upright and determined. She came over to Libby and gave her shoulder a pat.

  ‘You bin a help to my boy,’ she said. ‘Now I’m goin’ to look after him. You pop off home, like, and we’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Thank you, Edie,’ said Libby, ‘but I think the police will want to speak to us before we go.’

  Ian, having returned to the kitchen, nodded apologetically and asked if there was somewhere comfortable they could go. Lewis said they could use the solar and led the way back upstairs.

  ‘Funny,’ he said, standing and looking out of the large window down to the river and the sea. ‘I remember sitting here right at the beginning of all this and being scared.’ He turned and smiled sadly at Libby. ‘I didn’t know what I was scared of then, did I?’

  She came to his side and put an arm round him. ‘You had nothing to be scared of,’ she said. ‘Katie loved you.’

  ‘That was the trouble,’ said Ian from behind them. ‘She loved so many people, particularly her own s
on. Frightening thing, mother love.’

  Epilogue

  AND SO FRAN AND Guy were married a few days later. Libby once again found herself in the role of first attendant, and Ben was a proud and handsome best man. Adam and Dominic appointed themselves groomsmen and kept an eye on Fran’s unpredictable children, the fretful Lucy and her unruly offspring, the social-climbing Chrissie and her husband Bruce, who both looked as though they’d sucked lemons, and the placid Jeremy, charming American girlfriend in tow, both of them still suffering from jet lag.

  Later, in the marquee, where an extremely good jazz quartet were playing, Libby and Fran sat together with glasses of champagne while Libby brought Fran up to date on the unhappy finale to the Creekmarsh mystery.

  ‘So we were almost right,’ said Fran, sipping thoughtfully. ‘Cindy really did kill Tony because of Gerald’s will.’

  ‘Yes, but she can’t have thought she had any way of getting back into it,’ said Libby. ‘I think the crunch came when Katie told her she’d done it for nothing because she was now the only beneficiary. Then she would have panicked.’

  ‘And Katie pretended to help her.’ Fran twirled her new wedding ring round her finger and held it up to admire it. ‘Why on earth did the silly girl believe that?’

  ‘Because she realised she would have left traces and because Katie said they’d found new evidence.

  She just wanted to get away.’

  ‘So she walked into her own death.’ Fran shook her head and looked across to where Guy was attempting to charm her daughters.

  Libby nodded and looked for her own children in another corner of the marquee, laughing and talking with Harry and Peter, and then Ben, sitting quietly with Lewis and Edie, watching her.

  ‘As Ian said,’ she whispered, ‘a terrible thing, mother love.’

  About The Author

  Born in Guildford, Surrey, Lesley spent her early life in south London, before marrying and moving all over the south-east of England. Lesley fell into feature writing by accident, then went on to reviewing for both magazines and radio. She writes for the stage, she has written short fiction for women’s weekly magazines and is a former editor of The Call Boy, the British Music Hall Society journal. Her first Libby Sarjeant novel, Murder In Steeple Martin, was published to much acclaim in 2006, followed in 2007 by Murder At The Laurels and Murder In Midwinter. In 2008, Lesley’s ever-increasing number of fans welcomed the publication of Murder By The Sea. Her passion for the theatre is reflected in her first nonfiction work, How To Write A Pantomime, also published by Accent Press.