LS 13 - Murder in a Different Place

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Now,’ said Harry, when Ben had parked the car and switched off the engine. ‘It’s still daylight, so they can see us coming.’

  ‘Only if they’re on this side of the building, and the main rooms are the other side,’ said Libby.

  ‘We’ll stay here and you go and knock. No need to overwhelm them,’ said Ben.

  Harry got out of the car, stood with his hand on the door for a moment, then, with a determined look on his face, strode round the corner to the front door of the sisters’ house. The other three craned to see.

  After a minute, Harry stepped back and they could see Alicia’s bewildered face staring at him. She began to shake her head and Libby was out of the car like a shot.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Hope-Fenwick,’ she said. ‘Aren’t we lucky? Harry’s brought us over to his new home for a few days.’

  Alicia’s horrified gaze took in Libby, Ben, and Peter, as they all ranged themselves beside Harry.

  ‘Mr Deakin said it’s perfectly all right,’ said Harry. ‘Just waiting for the final documentation to come to me, now. So perhaps I could have the keys?’

  Honoria and Amelia appeared behind Alicia’s shoulders.

  ‘No,’ growled Honoria.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ said Ben pleasantly, ‘that it isn’t in your power to refuse.’ He got out his phone. ‘Perhaps I should call Mr Deakin again –’

  ‘No, no,’ said Alicia hastily. ‘Amelia, dear, get the keys.’

  Amelia frowned at her sister. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘In – in the usual place,’ said Alicia.

  ‘We’ll come in while you find them, shall we?’ beamed Libby, and virtually pushed her way into the house. Harry attached himself to Amelia and Ben and Peter flanked Honoria, who was looking even more like an enraged bulldog. Chewing on a wasp, thought Libby.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ snapped Amelia, as they all came to a halt in the kitchen.

  ‘Waiting for the keys to Ship House, and whatever is left of the Beach House,’ said Harry.

  ‘All the keys,’ added Libby.

  ‘Yes,’ said Peter. ‘We know there are more sets than one, we had three. So all of them, please.’

  For a long moment it looked as if there would be a stand-off, until Alicia crumpled into a chair at the kitchen table.

  ‘They’re on that hook.’ She waved towards a large dresser. Honoria went to grab the large bunch of keys that hung there, but Peter was too quick for her.

  ‘Four sets,’ he said, ‘and one large brass key.’

  ‘The Beach House,’ said Harry, taking it. ‘There were two.’

  ‘Celia took the other one, the day she …’ Alicia’s voice trailed off.

  Libby sat down beside her. ‘Now, what was all that about?’ she asked. ‘Why didn’t you want Harry to have what’s rightfully his?’

  Alicia rallied. Her sisters remained silent.

  ‘I offered to send him the keys. Ask him.’

  ‘I know. And how many sets would you have sent?’ Libby looked at all three sisters and saw their faces change according to their personalities. Alicia’s became pale, Amelia’s red, and Honoria’s practically purple.

  ‘Presumably,’ said Peter, assuming his most noble and arrogant stance and tone, ‘you wished to search the property thoroughly before Harry took possession. And since we found something in the Beach House, you wished to have another look there, in case we missed something. So what is so important?’

  The sisters remained silent.

  Harry took the keys from Peter and left the room. ‘No doubt we’ll see you in the morning,’ he said over his shoulder.

  Peter, Ben and Libby followed him out. They collected their bags from the car and began to make their way down the path, their progress followed by three pairs of eyes behind a window.

  ‘Well,’ said Libby, as Harry let them into Ship House. ‘That was illuminating.’

  ‘Almost as if they were covering up a murder,’ said Peter, taken the curry bags into the kitchen.

  ‘I wonder if that’s it,’ said Harry, throwing his and Peter’s bags into the room they’d occupied so recently. ‘Huh – they haven’t even changed the beds.’

  ‘If what’s it?’ asked Ben.

  ‘If they’re covering up for a murder. A murder that happened when they were all suddenly away from the Island?’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Peter reappeared with plates and they all stood looking at Harry.

  ‘Well, you must admit, it would fit the facts,’ he said, taking the plates from Peter and distributing them round the table. ‘Whatever this secret is, it’s a bad one. And they don’t get worse than murder.’

  ‘But murder of who?’ said Libby.

  Ben went to fetch the foil dishes and Peter put out table mats.

  ‘The man who got Granny in the family way?’ suggested Harry. ‘That’s the most likely, isn’t it?’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Peter. ‘It makes sense.’

  ‘It almost does,’ said Libby frowning, ‘but then we come up against the person who killed Celia and who wrote to the sisters about you, Hal.’

  ‘If they’re the same person,’ said Ben.

  ‘They must be,’ said Libby. ‘And that was what they wanted to find out, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Who killed Celia?’ said Ben.

  ‘And who knew the secret. That’s what they were trying to find out, not just Celia’s killer.’

  Harry was ladling chicken dhansak on top of pilau rice. ‘It all makes sense except for my anonymous letters.’

  ‘Yes.’ Libby was frowning again. ‘I can’t see where that fits in.’

  ‘Someone thinks Hal holds the key to the secret?’ suggested Peter, fastidiously wiping his fingers after tearing off a piece of puree.

  ‘It was a good job you did insist on coming over.’ Peter patted Hal’s arm. ‘They could have stripped the place.’

  ‘They certainly weren’t going to give up without a fight,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder what they’ll do next.’

  ‘Come down and say some of their stuff is here and could they fetch it, I expect,’ said Ben.

  ‘That’s easy,’ said Libby. ‘There’s an inventory for renters, so if we go through that we’ll soon find out if anything doesn’t belong.’

  ‘But that also means that there can’t be anything here that Matthew needed to keep secret,’ said Peter.

  ‘There are always locked spaces in holiday lets,’ said Libby. ‘I know, I’ve been in loads. Whole rooms, sometimes.’

  ‘And that’s where the sisters will say their belongings are,’ said Peter. ‘We’ll have to check all the keys, see if there is a locked drawer or cupboard.’

  ‘But,’ said Ben, ‘Matthew knew the sisters were in and out of here. He couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t see it.’

  ‘No, but it wouldn’t matter. That’s why they must be so sure there is something. They all knew this secret. It’s the possibility of it becoming known that is worrying them so much.’ Libby turned her attention to her jalfrezi.

  ‘What I can’t make out,’ said Harry, ‘is when they wanted you to find out who killed Celia, why they thought if you did, the murderer would keep quiet about his reason.’

  ‘And where you come into it,’ said Libby. ‘Still complicated, isn’t it?’

  Libby was up early the following morning, and out on the deck with her tea to watch the sun rise over the sea, when she noticed a movement on the path down the cliff. Keeping still, she watched as a figure moved down on to the beach and slowly towards Candle Cove.

  Honoria. It had to be. The figure was too tall and bulky to be either of the other sisters, and, besides, Libby could not imagine either of them creeping around a ruined building in the dawn. She wondered whether to wake Harry, and as she did, so Ben appeared by her side.

  ‘What is it?’ he whispered. Libby told him.

  ‘I’ll wake Harry,’ he said and disappeared inside.

  ‘What do you think she’s up to
?’ Harry loomed up before her, struggling into his towelling robe.

  ‘She’s going to search the Beach House,’ said Libby. ‘You were dead right to come out here. Are we going to challenge her?’

  ‘It’s a tricky legal problem, isn’t it?’ said Ben. ‘After all, until probate’s been granted, whose property is it?’

  ‘Certainly not hers,’ said Libby, ‘and any minute now it’ll be Harry’s. Whatever she takes from there, it will be theft.’

  ‘We took the address book,’ said Harry. ‘But I suppose, technically, that’s mine, too.’

  ‘Follow her?’ suggested Libby.

  ‘All of us?’ Harry looked surprised.

  ‘Just you and me, then. Ben can keep watch here, in case one of the others comes down.’

  ‘Are we being sidelined again?’ drawled Peter, joining them.

  ‘ʼFraid so,’ said Ben with a grin. ‘Go on, then, you two. Follow the scary monster.’

  Libby tucked her feet into her sandals and followed Harry down the steps to the beach. Honoria had disappeared from view by now, so they hurried across the sand and climbed over the rocks into Candle Cove.

  ‘She’ll see us!’ hissed Libby.

  ‘So?’ Harry was now striding purposefully across to the ruins of the Beach House, where Honoria could be made out almost bent double in front of the wall.

  ‘Good morning.’ He stopped a yard or so away, and Honoria snapped upright, almost losing her balance. Her hand went to her heart and Libby wondered for the moment if they’d scared her into a heart attack.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped.

  Harry glanced at Libby, amused. ‘I think I should ask you that, don’t you?’

  Honoria looked confused.

  ‘I must say,’ said Libby, stepping forward, ‘I would have thought you’d have the sense to look for whatever you wanted to find before Harry took over. You’ve had plenty of time.’

  ‘We didn’t think you’d come over.’ Honoria leaned against the crumbling brickwork. ‘How could we know?’

  ‘So what is it you’re looking for?’ said Harry, folding his arms and looking, Libby thought, like an avenging Greek god.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then why are you here? Come on, Honoria. You must think there’s something here, but for the life of me I can’t work out why you didn’t search here before we came over for Matthew’s funeral. You were so convinced Celia was murdered, you must have thought there was a clue here.’

  ‘We –’ Honoria glanced at Libby. ‘We thought you would solve her murder.’

  ‘Yes, you said.’ Libby moved closer. ‘But as we’ve also said, how could we do that when you wouldn’t even tell us the truth? So are you going to now?’

  Honoria straightened her back. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, and started to walk round Harry, who put out an arm to stop her.

  ‘Honoria, please understand we wouldn’t do anything to hurt or upset you, but you can’t start poking around here and expect me not to wonder why.’

  Honoria gave him a scathing look and shook her arm free, before trudging back to the rocks and clambering awkwardly over them.

  ‘Well,’ said Libby. ‘What about that then?’

  Harry shook his head, watching as the older woman disappeared from view. ‘No idea. Come on, I want a cuppa.’

  Peter and Ben had made fresh tea and were waiting on the deck.

  ‘We saw her go past,’ said Ben. ‘She didn’t look at us.’

  ‘She wouldn’t say anything,’ said Harry. ‘Except that they didn’t realise we would be coming over so soon.’

  ‘This is all so stupid,’ said Libby. ‘I’d wash my hands of them, but we can’t very well, now Harry’s inherited this place.’

  ‘And don’t forget someone’s after Harry,’ reminded Peter. ‘It might be all tied together.’

  ‘I know.’ Libby sighed. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Have a thorough search of this place and the Beach House. We can’t lock the Beach House, so anything loose we ought to remove,’ said Ben. ‘After breakfast.’

  By the time the four of them made their way back to the Beach House, the day was threatening to turn very hot, and Peter was complaining that his white linen trousers were going to get filthy.

  ‘Should have worn something more practical then,’ said Harry, in shorts and a tee shirt. ‘We are.’

  Peter looked them over and tipped his wide-brimmed hat to a rakish angle. ‘But you don’t look as good as I do,’ he grinned.

  The search of the Beach House was less perfunctory than before. The area where Ben had found the address book was pulled apart, planks were torn off the walls and every nook and cranny prodded and poked. After two hours, Libby sat back on her heels and wiped her damp forehead.

  ‘Nothing. I don’t think there’s anything to find.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Harry, straightening up from the pile of bricks he’d been sorting through.

  ‘Rotting fabric.’ Peter held it up. Libby peered at it.

  ‘Tea towel?’ she guessed. ‘Not useful, anyway.’

  ‘Let’s leave it,’ said Harry. ‘And I’ll ring the old ladies and tell them there’s nothing to find here. In fact,’ he eyed the ruin thoughtfully, ‘I’m inclined to tell them I’m going to have it knocked down.’

  ‘Really? I mean, really? Or just tell them that?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Really. It hasn’t any sentimental value, has it? I wonder if I could rebuild it?’

  Ben straightened up holding a vicious-looking length of barbed wire. ‘Ask the planning officer. If Matthew had title to a property here, then you own the land and could probably put up a similar building.’ He looked down at the wire. ‘I don’t suppose this is relevant?’

  Harry frowned. ‘I never saw any barbed wire here. Where did you find it?’

  ‘Over there.’ Ben gestured. ‘Near where I found the address book.’

  ‘Must be the architect’s eye,’ said Peter, going to look over the remains of the wall Ben had indicated.

  ‘By the way, where is the address book now?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Guy’s still got it,’ said Harry. ‘I think he was going to have another go at it, or get someone else to look at it.’

  ‘This wire looks like the stuff they put up on beaches during the war,’ said Ben. ‘They did that here, too, didn’t they?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Libby. ‘They would have been on the front line for invasion.’

  ‘As much as we were,’ said Peter. ‘More so, because I bet if they were invaded, the Germans would have thought they could capture an island easily, as they did with the Channel Islands.’

  ‘Perhaps we ought to try and find out more about it,’ said Libby.

  ‘There are some local history books at the house,’ said Harry. ‘I noticed. I was thinking of trying to see if there was anything in them that could … well, might …’

  ‘Be useful.’ Peter slipped his arm round Harry’s shoulders. ‘Come along then. I’ve had enough grubbing round in the dirt.’

  Back at Ship House, Harry called the sisters, not mentioning the barbed wire or suggestions of invasion. He was brief and firm, and when he ended the call, shook his head. ‘That was Amelia. I don’t think she believed me.’

  Peter and Ben were bent over the local history books Harry had pointed out to them while Libby made coffee in the kitchen.

  ‘There’s quite a bit here about PLUTO,’ said Ben.

  ‘The what?’ said Harry.

  ‘Pipeline under the ocean,’ said Libby coming in with the coffee. ‘It was to take fuel to the troops after the D-Day landings. Very hush-hush. Went from Shanklin, I think, or somewhere nearby. And I’ve just remembered something else. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Operation Sea Lion.’

  Three puzzled faces turned towards her.

  ‘It was Hitler’s plan to invade Britain. T
he Battle of Britain was part of it. I read all about it when I was doing some research after we got back last time, Ventnor was to be targeted by the Ninth Army from Le Havre.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘I don’t see what that has to do with anything,’ said Harry.

  ‘Perhaps the Beach House was used by the military during the war?’ suggested Ben. ‘That was why I found the wire there?’

  ‘Suppose so,’ said Harry, sounding dubious. ‘But still …’

  ‘Suppose …’ said Peter, who had been frowning at his coffee mug, ‘just suppose there was something going on here.’

  ‘Spying, do you mean?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Possibly. When was PLUTO started? And Sea Lion? Oh – Sea Lion was early if the Battle of Britain was part of it, and PLUTO later.’

  ‘Yes, but suppose people had got wind of this possible invasion,’ said Libby. ‘Could they have been – I don’t know – signalling to the Germans from here somehow?’

  ‘Possible, but only with dedicated radio,’ said Ben. ‘Let’s see if there’s anything about Sea Lion in any of these books.’

  At the end of an hour of reading through the small collection of books and further internet research – ‘Thank goodness for laptops and tablets,’ said Libby – they all knew a lot more about the Island’s military defences, Operation Sea Lion, and the trial for treachery of a local woman.

  ‘So she was making detailed maps of the defences.’ said Libby. ‘Could she have been something to do with Matthew’s family?’

  ‘Not likely,’ said Peter, reading his screen. ‘She came from London and was what it says here was a “thoroughly bad lot”. And after her imprisonment she said it was all a joke anyway.’

  ‘But there’s the book which says she was mentally disturbed,’ said Ben, also still reading.

  ‘And the row about the lost case files,’ added Harry.

  ‘But none of it to do with us,’ said Libby.

  ‘Suppose,’ said Peter, getting up and pacing out on to the deck, ‘suppose someone from Matthew’s family was also a traitor? They’d want that kept secret, wouldn’t they?’