LS 13 - Murder in a Different Place

by Lesley Cookman

  Harry went and lay down on the couch. ‘How about old-fashioned phone? Safer than email. I bet we wouldn’t find anything on there. Unless we had one of those experts the police use. Pity we can’t get old Ian to give us a hand.’

  Detective Chief Inspector Ian Connell, a sometime friend back in Kent, frequently had to accept help from Libby in various murder cases. Not that he always accepted it willingly, though, to be fair, he had been known to save her bacon when she blundered too far into a case.

  ‘Well, he’s not here now,’ said Peter, ‘and I think you’re right, Hal. We won’t find anything incriminating on here. Who’d keep something where anyone could find it?’

  ‘Not anyone,’ said Ben. ‘We can’t. And you’re our resident computer expert.’

  ‘I think the only thing we’ve got to give us an idea is that little book,’ said Libby. ‘Although if that is what the blackmailer – killer – wanted, why is it still there?’

  ‘And frankly, if there was anything in there that was incriminating, why had Matthew kept it?’ said Peter.

  ‘Perhaps there wasn’t.’ Harry was sounding far more like himself. ‘Perhaps that little book was just in the Beach House and had nothing to do with anything. Perhaps Celia just went down there to tell whoever-it-was to bugger off.’

  They all looked at him in surprise.

  ‘That’s actually the most likely scenario,’ said Peter. ‘We’ve been trying to complicate matters.’

  ‘As usual,’ said Ben, with a look at Libby.

  ‘But there still has to be something that got Celia killed and that Matthew was worried about,’ said Libby obstinately.

  ‘Or maybe – just maybe – Celia went down there to secure something because Matthew knew there was a storm coming. And it wasn’t murder at all, but a simple accident as the police thought,’ said Ben.

  Libby sighed. ‘So we’re simply pandering to the old ladies?’

  Peter looked round at them all. ‘No, I don’t think so. I think Matthew was worried about something. And why send Celia to the Beach House without telling the others. And why had he been looking through the telescope at the Beach House when he collapsed?’

  ‘We don’t know that for sure,’ said Libby.

  ‘It was you who spotted it,’ said Harry.

  ‘I suggest we wait until tomorrow when Fran arrives,’ said Peter. ‘Perhaps she’ll get something from the little book, or the Beach House itself. And if she has the slightest inkling of trouble, then we carry on. All right?’

  Chapter Five

  When Fran and Guy Wolfe drove off the ferry at Fishbourne, Libby and Ben were there to meet them.

  ‘We thought you could follow us across the island, and we’d maybe stop for a late lunch somewhere,’ said Libby.

  ‘That sounds good,’ said Fran. ‘Where are Peter and Harry?’

  ‘Still at Ship House. Harry’s cooking something for this evening’s meal. Says he’s getting withdrawal symptoms.’

  Ben drove across the Island, making sure Guy could keep up. Summer vegetation was obscuring most of the road signs on the narrow roads, not conducive to the visitor’s ease of travel. Somewhere in the middle, they stopped at a pub, where they settled in the large garden. While Guy and Ben went to order drinks and fetch a menu, Fran put her head on one side and gave Libby a long look.

  ‘Well?’

  Libby sighed. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Something to do with Harry. Is that why you wanted to meet us on your own?’

  ‘I shall never get used to you and your moments,’ said Libby.

  ‘Neither shall I,’ came the surprising answer. ‘But that’s what I feel and there’s no getting away from it. So tell me.’

  Libby started the story and then had to go back over it for Guy’s benefit.

  ‘So you see, we’re stuck. The sisters asked us to stay because they think Celia was murdered, and we don’t want to abuse their hospitality, but so far we can’t find any proof. Peter said we should wait for you to pronounce.’

  ‘Nice of him,’ said Fran wryly. Her dark bob fell forward screening her face as she leant forward to pick up her drink.

  ‘Come on, Fran – what?’ said Libby. ‘You’re hiding something.’

  Fran sat back in her chair. ‘Why did you want to tell me this while Harry wasn’t here?’

  ‘Well –’ Libby looked at Ben. ‘Because Harry hasn’t been himself since we got here. And you know he was a bit like that at home, too. And we now know he was much closer to Matthew than we thought. Peter didn’t even know he’d been over here.’

  ‘But not after Pete and Harry met,’ said Ben. ‘And Matthew introduced them.’

  ‘And Harry knew – or guessed – the computer passwords,’ said Libby. ‘Although, to be fair, after we’d had a look at the computer he seemed more himself, didn’t he?’ She looked at Ben.

  ‘Because he knows you won’t find anything on there,’ said Fran.

  The other three looked at her, shocked.

  ‘You think there’s something to find – about Hal?’ said Libby.

  ‘I think Harry thinks there is,’ said Fran. ‘I won’t know until I’ve seen him.’

  ‘In that case, let’s forget about it and order food,’ said Ben. ‘Only remember Harry’s cooking tonight – don’t eat too much.’

  Later, they parked at the top of Overcliffe and Libby led the way past the sisters’ cottage and The Shelf.

  ‘Along there’s a path along the cliff where you can see into the other cove and the Beach House,’ she said, pointing past the sisters’ house. She turned the other way. ‘And look, there’s the telescope in the window. That’s where Matthew was found.’

  Fran stood looking at telescope for a long moment, then turned. ‘Come on, I’m looking forward to seeing Ship House and the boys.’

  Peter and Harry greeted Fran and Guy with kisses and handshakes and offered tea or coffee.

  ‘I want to explore the beach,’ said Fran. ‘It’s simply gorgeous here, isn’t it?’

  ‘A cross between Cornwall and the coast of Turkey,’ said Guy.

  ‘I didn’t know you’d been to Turkey,’ said Libby, surprised.

  Guy grinned. ‘You don’t what I got up to before I met you and Fran. And I know this little coastal village in Turkey that you’d love. I’ll take you all there one day.’

  ‘I thought Turkey was all resorts and high-rise hotels these days,’ said Ben.

  ‘Not this place,’ said Guy. ‘When you go out on a boat, all you can see from the bay is a tiny line of low buildings at the foot of green mountains.’

  ‘Could we go?’ Libby asked, turning to Ben. ‘It sounds wonderful.’

  ‘I shall remind you that we are currently on holiday on the Isle of Wight,’ said Peter, ‘and here to do a job. At least, you are.’

  Libby pulled a face. ‘I wish we weren’t. I almost feel that they got us here on false pretences.’

  ‘If that was the only way they could get you to help, that makes sense,’ said Fran, ever practical. ‘Now, who’s going to show us the beach?’

  Everyone except Harry, who was still pottering in the kitchen, opted to show Fran and Guy the extent of their limited world. The walked along the beach to their right, past the two cafés and the few houses, some of which were holiday lets. At that end of the bay, a few fishing boats were drawn up, with more lobster pots and netting spread out to dry.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ said Fran. ‘And now, can we see the Beach House?’

  They retraced their steps along the beach, past Ship House, the little clinker boat, the boathouse, the crab pots and cottages, before clambering over rocks into the next bay. Fran stopped, looking at the ruined Beach House.

  ‘What about the people at the funeral?’

  The rest of the party looked surprised.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Was there anyone there any of you had known before?’

  ‘There were a couple of journalists,’ said
Peter, ‘but nobody else.’

  ‘Harry might have known someone,’ said Libby, ‘but he didn’t say anything.’

  Fran walked forward until she was right in front of the ruins. The others stayed silent. She walked round to the other side.

  ‘Was this where you found the diary?’ she called.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Ben, going to join her.

  ‘So it was a diary?’ said Libby, following.

  Fran smiled at her. ‘I’ve no idea. I’ll see if I can get anything on it. I’ve been practising.’

  ‘Why did you ask about people at the funeral?’ Guy came round the other way.

  ‘Just a feeling. Don’t murderers turn up at the funerals of their victims?’ said Fran.

  ‘But Matthew wasn’t murdered,’ said Peter.

  ‘Of course he was. Indirectly,’ said Fran.

  They fell silent.

  ‘Well,’ said Libby cautiously after a moment, ‘we did actually say that ourselves after we guessed he’d collapsed at the telescope.’

  ‘Did you ask Harry which of those passwords were his nickname?’ asked Fran.

  ‘I did,’ said Peter, frowning. ‘It was Happydays. Figures.’

  ‘Oh, Pete,’ said Libby. ‘It was all before you even met Hal. And Matthew introduced you.’

  ‘I know.’ Peter sighed. ‘It’s bloody difficult, though. I know there’s more in Hal’s background that I don’t know. He won’t talk about his childhood, just the occasional slip. And I didn’t know he’d kept as closely in touch with Matthew as he had.’

  ‘I think Matthew was more like a father than anything else,’ said Fran firmly. ‘And, however this goes, I think we’re all going to find out more than we might want.’

  Back at Ship House, Harry had made tea and Fran asked for the book.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll ever be able to open it,’ she said, turning it over in her hands. ‘But if I keep holding it I might come up with something.’

  Libby came over and peered at it. ‘It’s blue, isn’t it? And that’s a bit of gold edging on the paper. It looks like an old-fashioned address book.’

  ‘It could still be a diary,’ said Peter, bringing mugs of tea. ‘They still make them like that.’

  ‘With gold on the edges?’ asked Libby.

  ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘Any idea if it might have something to do with Celia’s death?’ asked Ben.

  Fran shook her head. ‘Nothing at all, yet.’ She looked up at them all. ‘I can tell you that I knew there was something wrong, something to do with Harry, before we even set out.’

  Harry looked dubious. Fran smiled at him. ‘Obviously what I was picking up on was your distress, nothing about your friend Matthew or his cousin. So whether we’ll be able to get to the bottom of whatever it is, I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Will you come and meet the sisters?’ asked Peter. ‘They’re quite a triple act.’

  ‘If they want to meet us,’ said Fran. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

  ‘They asked if I – we – would look into Celia’s death. I’m sure they will want to meet you.’

  ‘Have you told them about me?’

  ‘Er –’ Libby looked round at the others. ‘Did I?’

  Harry finished the last of the tea in his mug and stood up. ‘I’m going to go up on my own and tell them. Although I didn’t meet them in the past, they’ve known I was a close friend of Matthew’s for a long time. I told them about you and Libby getting involved with stuff, and they knew about the Oast Theatre from Matthew. I think they’ll be fine with it all, but I want to be the one to tell them.’

  ‘OK.’ Peter stood up and patted his arm. ‘Anything we need to do about dinner while you’re gone?’

  ‘Why did he do that?’ asked Libby, watching through the plate glass doors as Harry began to climb towards the sisters’ house.

  Peter looked surprised. ‘He told you why.’

  Fran joined Libby and pushed the doors open. ‘No, there’s something behind that.’ She squinted at Harry’s disappearing back. ‘There’s something he wants to say to them he doesn’t want us to hear.’

  Peter, Guy, Ben and Libby looked incredulous.

  ‘Fran, my love, that’s ridiculous,’ said Peter. ‘Harry’s nothing if not open.’

  Fran smiled at him. ‘He hasn’t been very open about any of this, has he?’

  Peter looked confused. ‘Well –’

  ‘It’s true, Pete,’ said Libby.

  ‘What hasn’t he told you about?’ asked Guy.

  ‘That he’d been here in the past – in secret,’ said Ben.

  ‘That he knew Matthew better than we thought,’ said Libby.

  ‘No,’ said Peter slowly. ‘I always knew about Matthew. And I did say, remember, what happened before we met didn’t matter.’

  ‘But you got a bit miffed at one point yesterday,’ said Libby.

  ‘It’s just not like him.’ Peter went out on to the deck and leant over the railing to look at the beach.

  ‘No, we’ve already said that.’ Libby went up and patted his arm. ‘But I expect he’ll tell you all about it eventually.’

  ‘I just hope it’s nothing connected to this business of Celia’s death.’ Peter turned round to face the house. ‘It all seems too much of a coincidence.’

  Fran came out to join them. ‘I’m sorry, Peter, but I do think there’s a connection. I don’t mean that Harry is in any trouble, but I think whatever he’s not talking about has a bearing on this whole thing.’

  ‘If it has, why won’t he say?’ Ben appeared beside Libby. ‘Surely nothing’s so bad he can’t share it with us? I mean, I’m practically family.’

  ‘You frequently don’t share stuff with your family,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t mean just you, I mean everybody. I wouldn’t tell Dom, Bel, and Ad stuff I’d tell you lot.’

  ‘Then is he protecting someone?’ Peter frowned.

  ‘That could be it,’ said Fran, ‘and he’s gone to tell the sisters –’

  ‘Because it’s them he’s protecting!’ said Libby triumphantly.

  ‘Well, it could be,’ said Fran cautiously, ‘but we’re clutching at straws.’

  ‘It’s something from the past,’ said Guy suddenly. ‘Something Harry doesn’t really want to remember.’

  They all looked at him in astonishment. He gave a crooked little grin above the neat goatee.

  ‘Fran must be rubbing off on me.’ He put an arm round his wife’s shoulders.

  ‘And something,’ she continued, ‘he wants to warn the sisters not to speak about.’

  Libby looked across at Peter uneasily. ‘But what? Something Harry knows but doesn’t want us to know? Then it can’t have a bearing on Celia’s death or the sisters would want us to know about it.’

  ‘Not if Celia or Matthew, or both together, had done something Harry knew about but mustn’t get out,’ said Fran.

  ‘Then we’d be shut down quicker than a drugs ring,’ said Peter. ‘Much as I hate to think it might be true, I think you could be right, Fran. The question is, what do we do about it?’

  Chapter Six

  When Harry came back to Ship House forty minutes later he announced that the ladies had professed themselves delighted to meet Fran, so he had invited them for an after-dinner drink.

  ‘And now I need a before-dinner drink,’ he said, ‘while I go and attend to the kitchen.’

  ‘Well, whatever he said to them, we aren’t going to be warned off,’ said Peter, as he went to fetch bottles and glasses. ‘That’s something.’

  Libby and Fran were loading the dishwasher and washing glasses when a flurry of activity announced the arrival of the sisters.

  ‘So nice to meet you, dear,’ said Alicia, clasping Fran’s hand in both of hers. ‘We know all about you!’

  ‘You do?’ Fran smiled and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Matthew,’ said Honoria. ‘Kept in touch with Harry.’

  ‘Oh.’ Fran nodded and glanced at Libby.
‘You knew Harry, then?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Amelia sat down in the middle of the couch arranging necklaces and scarves as she did so. ‘Only because Matthew used to talk about him.’

  Harry, looking uncomfortable, came forward with offers of drinks.

  ‘Thank you, dear, there should be some dry sherry in the cupboard,’ said Alicia, seating herself beside her sister. ‘We keep a few bottles of this and that for tenants.’

  Libby poured red wine for herself and Fran and sat down opposite the sisters. ‘If you know about Fran,’ she began, ‘then you know she might be able to make some sense of what happened to Celia that night.’

  ‘We know what happened,’ said Amelia fiercely. ‘She was killed.’

  ‘But you don’t know why,’ said Fran, gently. ‘And Peter and Harry haven’t been able to find anything on Matthew’s computer. The only thing is the little diary.’

  ‘Diary?’ repeated the sisters with one voice. ‘What diary?’

  ‘Oh.’ Fran looked at Libby, who shook her head.

  ‘We found a little book,’ explained Ben, ‘at the Beach House. It looks as if it could be a diary or an address book, but it’s been soaked in sea water of course, and now it’s dried out it’s completely stuck together. Even if we could get it open we wouldn’t be able to read anything inside.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Amelia shouted, beating her hand on the arm of the sofa. ‘You had no right –’

  ‘Ssh, dear,’ said Alicia. ‘I’m sure they were going to tell us.’ She turned to Libby. ‘Weren’t you, Libby?’

  Libby nodded. ‘Of course. We were going to ask you if you recognised it, and Fran was going to see if she could get anything from it. Here.’ She fetched the book from a bookshelf.

  Honoria took it and turned it over, frowning. ‘Never seen it before.’ She handed it to Alicia, but Amelia snatched it. ‘Nor have I,’ she said and almost threw it at Alicia.

  ‘I haven’t either.’ Alicia held the book close to her face and peered at the cover. ‘There’s something on the cover.’

  ‘In gold, yes,’ said Ben. ‘We couldn’t make it out.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ said Fran, ‘and I haven’t been able to feel anything from it, either.’