Murder in Steeple Martin - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Well, no. It’s all this – you know – business.’

  ‘Paula business, or accidents business?’

  ‘Both,’ Libby sighed. ‘Pete’s mum didn’t cause the incidents, and I can’t think why we even considered that she had, really, so someone else did, and that person could well be the murderer. Unless it was the passing tramp theory.’

  ‘I’ve always hated that,’ said Stephen, perching on the edge of one of the little iron tables. ‘You always get it in TV mysteries, where the family and friends say it must have been an escaped convict or something.’

  ‘When it couldn’t possibly have been,’ Libby nodded, ‘absolutely. Anyway …’ Her voice trailed off as she realised what she was about to let slip.

  ‘Anyway? What? Don’t tell me you know who this person is?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Libby swallowed hard and tried another smile. ‘Oh, God, look at the time. I’d better get on.’

  Quelling the now familiar churning in her stomach, Libby opened up the bar, wondering how she’d get on without a float, and fielded questions from the company as to the whereabouts of Peter. It was with relief that she saw Harry come through the glass doors just as the audience were going in to the auditorium, and then she saw his face.

  She waited until the foyer was clear, went round the bar and put her arms round him.

  ‘Are they all right?’ she asked.

  Harry held her away from him. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I don’t really. I just saw your face,’ she said.

  He sat down on a bar stool. ‘What a bloody mess,’ he said tiredly. ‘I can’t believe he’d do it.’

  Libby stepped back and took a deep breath.

  ‘David,’ she said.

  Harry looked up and nodded.

  ‘I worked it out,’ said Libby. ‘And he was the one who found the body – that’s always suspect, isn’t it?’

  Harry rubbed a hand over his face and frowned. ‘You don’t know, then?’

  ‘Don’t know what, Harry? Has he been arrested?’

  Harry’s face crumpled. ‘No, Lib. He’s dead.’

  Libby felt the room spinning and sat down abruptly on a stool, gripping tightly to the edge of the bar counter.

  ‘Susan found him in the surgery,’ Harry went on. ‘He’d taken some kind of massive overdose. He didn’t go home for lunch, so she went looking for him.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Libby put her hand to her mouth. ‘Was it after I saw him this morning?’

  ‘I don’t know. We knew you’d been there, so we all rang you this afternoon to see if he’d said where he might be. We thought he’d been called out to an emergency.’

  ‘My God, poor Susan. And Millie? Where’s Millie?’

  ‘James has taken her back to Steeple Farm. Susan’s gone to Hetty’s.’

  ‘Did he leave a note?’

  ‘I think so. Pete and Ben are at The Manor. I left Donna in charge at the caff.’ He stood up with an effort. ‘Come on, we’ve got a bar to run.’

  Somehow, they got through the evening. To Libby’s surprise, Hetty’s food had been delivered, and once they had set it out and served the over-exuberant last night crowd, Libby quietly handed over the bar and theatre keys to Stephen, who took one look at her face and asked no questions.

  ‘Come back to ours,’ said Harry. ‘Pete’ll come back there, and at least we’ll know what’s going on. Unless you want to go home?’

  ‘No, I’ll come back with you,’ said Libby, shivering. ‘I couldn’t bear to be on my own and not know.’

  It was after two o’clock when Peter came home, surprisingly followed by Ben. Harry poured them all large whiskies and when Libby offered to leave them, Ben came and sat on the arm of her chair.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘you’ve been in on this since the beginning. It’s only right you should know all about it.’

  ‘She knew,’ said Harry. ‘She worked it out.’

  ‘Oh, not about the suicide,’ said Libby hastily, ‘but about David causing the accidents and – you know – Paula.’

  Peter hadn’t said a word. Now he looked up, his face haggard. ‘He didn’t cause the accidents,’ he said.

  Libby looked from Ben to Peter, then at Harry, who shrugged imperceptibly.

  ‘David was Paula’s father.’

  Libby knew her mouth was hanging open, but didn’t seem to have the ability to shut it.

  ‘You remember we said there had been a rumour about him coming to the country to get away from a woman?’ Harry and Libby nodded. ‘Well, he did. Paula’s mum. Then, several years later, after he’d married Susan, she tracked him down.’

  ‘And moved here? What did she hope to gain by that? Did she think he would leave Susan for her?’ asked Libby, at last finding her voice.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. She merely wanted support for herself and her daughter. She wasn’t terribly healthy.’

  ‘Flo said she was delicate,’ murmured Libby.

  ‘So why did he kill himself?’ asked Harry. ‘Because she was pregnant? Did he know that?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he knew.’ Peter sounded grim.

  ‘Oh, God,’ gasped Libby. ‘It wasn’t his?’

  ‘No, that’s one sin he seems not to have committed,’ said Ben.

  ‘Eh?’ said Harry.

  ‘Incest,’ said Peter.

  The silence hummed around them as the truth began to dawn on Libby and Harry.

  ‘James,’ said Harry at last.

  Peter nodded. ‘Apparently my little brother is only my half-brother.’

  ‘Millie and he …’ Libby gulped. ‘And we joked.’

  ‘We were right. Remember I said my mum wasn’t too pleased when Susan married David? Well, when he first arrived they started an affair.’

  ‘David and Millie?’ Harry said disbelievingly.

  Peter nodded. ‘Then he broke it off because he wanted to get married and settle down, but they resumed it later. It seems just as young Jamie turned up, so did Paula and her mother.’

  ‘But Paula didn’t know he was her father?’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh, she already knew he was her father. He told her that before she moved to London, after her mother died.’

  ‘He said she made a pass at him,’ said Libby.

  ‘I expect that’s why he told her,’ said Ben. ‘And from then on she had a hold over him.’

  ‘Is that why he killed her?’

  They all looked at her with varying expressions of shock on their faces.

  ‘He didn’t kill her,’ said Ben.

  Libby looked from one to another in confusion. ‘Then why did he kill himself? I thought …’

  ‘You got it wrong again, dearheart,’ said Peter, ‘or is this your friend Fran’s idea?’

  ‘No.’ Libby was blushing furiously now. ‘She said she didn’t feel it was entirely right.’

  ‘Well, bully for her.’ Peter swallowed the remainder of his whisky in one gulp and held it out to Harry, who took it silently and refilled it.

  Ben put his arm round her shoulders. ‘David was an honourable man, and the thought of the pain he’d caused was eating away at him. She told him she was pregnant, and when he found her body he was convinced it would all come out.’

  ‘Well, he made sure of that, didn’t he?’

  ‘Why didn’t he tell James?’ asked Harry. ‘He had a right to know, if anyone did.’

  ‘Can you imagine going up to someone and saying “You know that girl you’ve just got pregnant? Well she’s your sister.” It’s like that old song,’ said Ben.

  “That girl is your sister but your mummy don’t know,” muttered Libby.

  ‘Something like that. David was too ashamed, and I suppose when he found her dead he was relieved and worried all at once. He said in his note he couldn’t bear the pain he would cause those he loved when the truth was known.’

  Peter laughed. ‘Silly sod. No one would have known about it if he’d kept quiet. Except Milady Snoop over there putting two and two toget
her and making five.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Libby couldn’t think of anything else to say. She’d never felt so humiliated or ashamed in her life.

  Peter leaned over and patted her on the knee. ‘Don’t worry about it, you old trout. He wanted to talk to you this morning because he genuinely thought someone else was behind the accidents and Paula’s death. You just misinterpreted it.’

  ‘I feel awful,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘Join the club,’ said Peter.

  ‘So we still don’t know who …?’ said Harry.

  ‘Apparently not. When they get all the DNA analysis back they might know who killed her, but whether that’s the same person behind the accidents is another matter.’

  ‘And whether they’ve got a sample of the murderer’s DNA, presumably,’ said Libby.

  ‘They haven’t got mine,’ said Peter, ‘or Harry’s, have they?’

  ‘They’ve never asked me,’ said Harry. ‘Did they ask you, Ben?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘Does that mean we’ve never been serious suspects?’

  They looked at one another.

  ‘Probably not, then,’ said Libby. ‘We really don’t know much about police investigations, do we?’

  Ben was frowning. ‘Pete, did your dad think James was his?’

  ‘Yes, apparently he did. Well, at least, I never heard anything …’

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you?’ said Ben reasonably.

  ‘And what about Susan?’ asked Libby. ‘Did she know?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Ben frowned. ‘David didn’t think she did, in any event. That was one of the things in his note. How much it would hurt her when she found out.’

  ‘Pity they didn’t think of that thirty-five years ago,’ said Peter.

  Ben looked at Harry. ‘Can I leave him with you, now?’ he said quietly.

  Harry nodded. ‘I’ll look after him.’

  Ben stood up. ‘Come on, then, Libby. I’ll see you home.’

  ‘Will they be all right, do you think?’ asked Libby, as they walked down the High Street, her arm tucked protectively into Ben’s.

  ‘Harry’ll look after Pete, and Peter will look after James and his mother. He might not like what she did, but she’s still his mother.’

  ‘And your poor sister. What about her?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Ben sighed. ‘She’ll stay with my parents, I suppose, but she’s hardly going to want to see any of the Parkers, is she?’

  ‘What I can’t understand is why, after talking to me this morning, he suddenly decided to kill himself. Was it something I said?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Lib, but don’t start blaming yourself. He obviously wanted to talk to you particularly, and I would guess he already had it in mind to – well, to do what he did, but wanted to make sure we knew about Millie.’

  ‘Then why tell me?’ asked Libby. ‘Why not tell Pete, or even you? Why me?’

  ‘Perhaps he thought we’d see through him – perhaps we were too close.’

  ‘God what a mess,’ said Libby, unconsciously echoing Harry.

  Ben squeezed her arm. ‘Don’t have nightmares, Lib. We’ll get over it.’

  She looked at him as they turned into Allhallow’s Lane. ‘I can’t help the nightmares, Ben. I just hope the rest of you don’t get them.’

  He stopped, and Libby was aware of the silence of the night around them. He ran a finger down the side of her face and she shivered.

  ‘Are we all right again, now?’ he asked.

  Libby looked at him for a long time without saying anything. Finally, she said, ‘If I knew why we haven’t been all right, I might say yes. But I don’t.’

  Ben looked down. ‘My fault. I got so muddled about the family, and I felt you were interfering.’

  ‘Oh, yes, that came over loud and clear. What I couldn’t understand is why you brought Fran in. If I was interfering, what was she doing?’

  ‘I suppose I thought, as a complete outsider, she might be able to clear a few things up so we could forget about them, then she could just disappear back where she came from.’

  ‘But you see her for work. How could she disappear? Anyway, I thought you fancied her.’

  Ben looked up and grinned. ‘Yes, I thought you did. Well, I don’t. Tell you who does, though,’ he added, looking thoughtful.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your Stephen. You’ll have to watch him.’

  ‘Stephen? Really? How do you know?’

  ‘He asked about her. Seemed very interested. And he’s left you alone, hasn’t he?’

  Libby sighed. ‘Yes, he has. In fact, when he walked me home the other night he told me he knew I wasn’t interested, but hoped we could stay friends, sort of thing.’

  ‘There you are. He’s transferred his affections.’

  ‘Just as well, although I don’t see much future in it, with her in London and him down here.’

  ‘I did offer to pass on his phone number. I wouldn’t give out hers, obviously.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Oh, he was all for it. Land line and mobile. He really is a nice bloke, you know, Lib.’

  Libby sighed again. ‘I know. Just terribly boring. I feel bad about bringing him over here now. He must have taken it as a sign that I fancied him.’

  ‘You’d think by the time we reached our age we’d have grown out of all that sort of behaviour, wouldn’t you?’ said Ben.

  ‘That was exactly what I’ve been thinking these last two weeks,’ exclaimed Libby.

  ‘Have you? Why?’ Ben moved a fraction closer.

  ‘Oh, you know.’ Libby felt the now familiar blush creeping up her neck. ‘Well, you do know, you annoying man. Perfectly well.’ She turned and began to walk up Allhallow’s Lane. ‘And I’m not going to ask you in tonight, either. I think you need to get back to the bosom of your family. You’re going to have an absolutely bloody time over the next few weeks, and Susan’s got to live with it for the rest of her life. Your poor sister.’

  It was Ben’s turn to sigh. ‘I know. But I think Pete’s going to have a bad time, too. I blame Millie more than David in all this, and he’s going to have live with that. Mind you, so’s James.’

  ‘I wonder if they will put her in a home, now?’

  ‘David said he thought she might be able to live on her own for a while longer.’

  ‘Sheltered housing, then?’

  ‘But not here. Not in Maltby Close.’

  ‘No, that would be a bit much, wouldn’t it?’

  They stopped outside Libby’s door.

  ‘I’m sorry if anything I’ve done or said contributed to any of this,’ said Libby in a muffled voice, as Ben pulled her close to him.

  ‘Don’t be daft. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Pete for the play and me for the theatre. And now, shut up.’

  He shut her up more effectively than ever before, and, by the time he let her go, Libby’s legs were threatening to give way completely.

  ‘I’ll ring you in the morning,’ he said. ‘Sorry the last night turned out so badly.’

  ‘I’d forgotten about that,’ said Libby, surprised. ‘Good lord!’

  But when she got in to bed a little later, she remembered. Remembered the cast, high on success, wondering why she’d left them in their hour of glory. Thank God for Stephen, who had so obviously understood and who would have smoothed things over as he had done throughout the last difficult weeks. You never had to tell him twice, and he had used his initiative more than once on her behalf. So he got a little annoyed with her sometimes? Well, you couldn’t blame him, thought Libby sleepily. Just hope Fran doesn’t find him as boring as I do …

  Chapter Thirty-three

  ON SUNDAY MORNING LIBBY woke to an overcast sky and a sense of foreboding. As she hadn’t been at the after-show party she had no idea what arrangements had been made for the “get out” at the theatre, or whether Stephen had arranged to strike the set that day or leave it until everyone had got their breath back. S
he assumed the cast would arrive at some time to collect personal items, and she had told them at the start they would be required to pack up costumes and props and clean the dressing rooms, so she only hoped someone had thought fit to remind them of it last night. Stephen would have, she was sure.

  She decided ten o’clock seemed an appropriate time to go, but when she phoned Stephen at nine-thirty to check, there was no reply. Either he had already left, or he’d stayed over last night with someone in the village, which seemed a likelier explanation. Wrapping her cloak around her and jamming an ancient sou’wester on her head, she said goodbye to Sidney and plunged out into the rain. Damp flakes of blossom blew into her face and made the path slippery and, despite the rain, she soon became overheated inside the cape. All of which had the effect of keeping her mind off the events of yesterday, so when she finally made it up the drive to the theatre and saw Stephen coming towards her with an expression of the utmost compassion on his face, it all hit her with renewed force and she was hard put to it not to burst into tears.

  ‘Don’t worry, Lib,’ he said, putting an arm round her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. ‘I told them all to be here as early as possible this morning, and we did some of it last night, so there’s hardly anything to do.’

  ‘How much do you know?’ Libby asked, turning to face him.

  ‘Only that David’s dead. Harry told me last night. None of the family will be here today. I’m surprised to see you, frankly.’

  Libby sighed. ‘One of us had to be here,’ she said, ‘and I’m not family, after all.’

  ‘As good as,’ said Stephen wryly.

  Libby turned to go in to the theatre. ‘Not at all,’ she said.

  Emma, coming out with an armful of costumes, stopped in front of them.

  ‘We’re so sorry to hear about David, Lib,’ she said. ‘Is it – I mean, we wondered …’

  ‘Anything to do with Paula’s death, she means,’ said Stephen.

  ‘Not as far as I know,’ said Libby, ‘but I don’t really know anything. Thanks, anyway.’

  Emma’s sentiments were repeated by almost everybody as Libby wandered round the building feeling redundant. The small back-stage crew just smiled at her and carried on taking down flats, and wrenching nails out of wood. She stood staring up into the flies, wondering yet again how anyone could have got up there and cut the steel wire. And why. All the speculation about the family, and which of them wanted the play to be stopped was at an end with Hetty’s revelations, and the tragedy of David’s death was really nothing to do with it at all. The accidents were a complete mystery, now, just as they had been from the first. Libby just wanted to forget it all and move on. Which reminded her, she was going to try and get up to London to see Fran and stay with Belinda. She was just reaching into her basket for her mobile, having remembered it for once, when it began to ring.