Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series)

by Cookman, Lesley

  ‘All of us and the cast of the play,’ said Libby, ‘Fran and Guy, Patti and Anne, the nuns and – I say – do the nuns have servants?’

  ‘They have oblates, or alongsiders, women who live and work with them, some for a short period, some for longer,’ said Peter. ‘I met a couple of them when I went to meet Sister Catherine.’

  ‘So there’s them, too,’ said Libby. ‘Do they live in or out?’

  ‘In. And there are occasionally guests who are on retreat. They have guest accommodation.’ Peter fetched a dish of roast potatoes and carrots to the table.

  ‘Most of those are mine,’ said Harry. ‘To make up for the meat.’ He cackled and drew the dish towards him.

  ‘There’s more,’ said Hetty.

  The subject of the reliquary was abandoned until after the beef had been finished and the treacle sponge demolished.

  ‘Pouff,’ said Libby, leaning back in her chair. ‘The Maidenhaye Arms couldn’t hold a candle to that.’

  Hetty looked pleased, but said nothing.

  ‘Speaking of Maidenhaye,’ said Ben, ‘you ought to let Ian know what happened, Lib. After all, he wasn’t altogether pleased about us going down there.’

  ‘It can wait until tomorrow,’ said Libby. ‘If Ian’s got a Sunday off he won’t appreciate a call from me.’

  But on Monday morning it was Ian who called Libby.

  ‘I’ve just been speaking to Alastair Beaumont. He tells me he’d like to buy the reliquary.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Libby, surprised. ‘He told us, too. I was going to ring you to report.’

  ‘Of course you were.’ Libby could almost hear him grinning. ‘Anyway, it appears that there’s no knowing when or from where those documents were stolen. I described them to Mr Beaumont and he confirms that they sound genuine, but he doesn’t have a clue where they might have come from, except that to him they sound later than the document of sale he showed you.’

  ‘Dear old Bartholomew Tollybar? Really?’ Libby frowned.

  ‘Which argues that, if our provenance documents are genuine, the reliquary must have been back in the possession of the Beaumonts after Tollybar bought it.’

  ‘Suggesting that yet another renegade member of the family pinched it back?’

  ‘Another?’

  Libby explained about the previous thefts of the reliquary.

  ‘It forms a pattern,’ said Ian. ‘For some reason, some members of the family think the reliquary should always be in their possession, and others use it for personal gain.’

  Libby tried to think this through. ‘I think I understand,’ she said. ‘So what you’re saying is Bernard Evans was left the thing by a family member and it was pinched by another one. Bit convoluted, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not sure about who left it to Evans. I think that was probably someone who’d bought it from a family member, and someone else wanted it back.’

  ‘I’ve got a picture of all these little Beaumont figures throwing the reliquary around like a football,’ said Libby. ‘You need to see Alastair’s family tree. It’s vast.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. You see, there will always be offshoots of a family who resent the main branch. Wouldn’t you say it could have been one of those who played fast and loose with this thing?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Libby doubtfully. ‘It all sounds a bit far-fetched to me. In fact, why are you so interested?’

  ‘Because,’ said Ian, ‘the item was stolen from a murder victim within living memory, and it has now shown up. That means we have to investigate. You know that. You told us about it.’

  ‘But the history …’

  ‘Libby, you’re always the one who wants to look into the history. Now, did you hear that the estate is to loan the reliquary to the Abbey for the duration of the play?’

  ‘Yes, Patti told me yesterday. How did that come about. Was it you?’

  ‘How did you know?’ asked Ian, after a pause.

  ‘I couldn’t think that anyone else requesting it would have been indulged,’ said Libby. ‘Is it bait?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ said Ian, sounding uncomfortable.

  ‘But you want to see if it draws anyone out.’

  ‘In a way. We thought if it was publicised –’

  ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

  ‘It will be well guarded, and only on view during performances. The rest of the time it will be in secure custody.’

  ‘Police, or a security company?’

  ‘Whatever resources can stretch to. There has been interest from a Kent museum since the news leaked out –’

  ‘Leaked out?’

  ‘You couldn’t expect this to stay under wraps, and, as I say, this museum might undertake to keep it temporarily.’

  ‘Hmm. I suppose it will be all right, as long as the nuns aren’t put in danger.’

  ‘We’d never do that. So you carry on with your rehearsals, and we’ll make all the arrangements. We’ll let you know if any developments occur.’

  ‘So that’s that,’ said Libby to Sidney, as she switched off the phone. ‘Thank you and good night.’

  She called Fran, then Patti, Ben and Peter and relayed the news.

  ‘I expect Ian will tell Sister Catherine himself,’ she said to Patti, ‘so there’s no need for me to bother her.’

  ‘I expect so,’ said Patti, ‘but he’ll have a fight on his hands.’

  ‘He will?’

  ‘The nuns want to keep the reliquary in the Abbey for the duration. They don’t want it going anywhere else. They feel it’s their right, even though they won’t keep it afterwards.’

  ‘Right. This should be interesting, then, but as I said to Ian we don’t want to put the nuns in danger.’

  ‘Not many people break into an abbey,’ said Patti. ‘Especially one with a good security system!’

  The subject of the reliquary gradually disappeared from daily conversation over the next couple of weeks, until the first rehearsal took place at the Abbey in the ruins of the monastery.

  ‘Apparently,’ said Peter, as he drove Ben and Libby to the Abbey, ‘the reliquary is already there, in a special glass case and they’ve appointed a private security company to look after it at night.’

  ‘Only at night?’ said Libby.

  ‘There’ll be people around it all the rest of the time,’ said Peter, ‘and it’s a high-security case.’

  ‘Are they opening it to the public?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Only the public who come to the play. And since there’s been a bit about it in the local press ticket sales have shot up.’

  ‘Really?’ Libby was interested. ‘Has our Campbell been on to you yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I doubt if it’s quite TV news-worthy.’

  Campbell McLean was a reporter for the Kent and Coast television network.

  ‘Jane ran it in the Mercury,’ said Peter. ‘I sent her the press release myself.’

  Jane Baker was assistant editor at the Nethergate Mercury and was a long-standing friend.

  ‘In that case Campbell won’t be far behind,’ said Libby. ‘He picks all Jane’s stories apart.’

  When they arrived at the Abbey, Peter parked on the gravel sweep in front of the modern building as Sister Catherine and a woman in a blue pinafore dress came out on to the steps.

  Sister Catherine seemed delighted to see them, and very excited about both the play and the reliquary.

  ‘Oh you must come and see where we’ve put it,’ she enthused, ‘but I forget myself! This is Martha, our resident alongsider.’

  The woman in the pinafore dress stepped forward and held out her hand.

  ‘I’m so pleased to meet you,’ she said with a smile. ‘Of course, I’ve already met Mr Parker.

  ‘Peter, please,’ said Peter. ‘And this is Libby and Ben.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Libby taking the outstretched hand. ‘Lovely to meet you. I must say, I’m curious.’

  Martha’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘Most people are.’
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  ‘Come on then,’ urged Sister Catherine. ‘I want you to see the reliquary at last.’

  She led the way through the Abbey, from a wide entrance hall along a corridor to a modern glass-enclosed cloister. Double doors at the end of this opened into an atrium which, in turn, looked out on the ruins of the monastery, and in the centre of which stood a glass case on a high wooden plinth.

  ‘Not too close,’ said Martha, ‘as we’ve got the lasers switched on.’

  ‘Lasers?’ Libby stopped short.

  ‘If no one’s around we switch them on. The security patrol checks it at night. They have access through the monastery grounds, not through the Abbey of course,’ said Sister Catherine.

  ‘And it’s not lit at night, of course,’ added Martha, her head on one side appreciatively. ‘It looks wonderful there, doesn’t it? As though it belongs.’

  And it did. The reliquary itself was worked gold, set with coloured stones which Libby assumed were real emeralds, rubies and sapphires. It was small, only about six inches long by about two inches deep, and mounted on what looked like a battered piece of wood.

  ‘I’ll turn off the lasers, shall I, Sister?’ asked Martha. ‘After all, I shall be here with the actors.’

  ‘Thank you, Martha.’ Sister Catherine smiled gratefully. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without Martha, really I don’t. She’s volunteered to give up Compline every night you’re here to act as – well, as hostess, I suppose.’

  ‘The other oblates will help,’ said Martha. ‘We have two living here at the moment and three who are part of the family but live in their own homes. We aren’t constrained to the life of daily prayers as the sisters are.’

  ‘I must go to prepare for Compline now, so I’ll leave you in Martha’s hands,’ said Sister Catherine. ‘Good night and God bless.’

  They all watched her go back through to the cloister, a tall, gliding black figure suddenly lit by a shaft of late sun through the cloister glass.

  ‘I don’t know how they do it,’ murmured Libby.

  ‘To tell you the truth,’ said Martha, coming back from where she’d deactivated a concealed switch, ‘neither do I.’

  ‘But you live with them, you share in their daily life,’ said Ben.

  ‘But only as much as I want to,’ said Martha. ‘Yes, I’m devout, but I need a certain amount of freedom.’ She smiled round at them. ‘I’m so looking forward to this play. It’ll be exciting to meet so many different people.’

  ‘I just hope you don’t regret it,’ said Peter.

  Libby looked at him sharply, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘So where do we go?’ asked Ben. ‘We’d better start setting up shop.’

  ‘I know the way,’ said Peter. ‘I’ve got it all mapped out.’

  ‘Our garden store has been cleared for you,’ said Martha. ‘There won’t be much privacy, but it’s the best we could do. We do have another building a bit further away which we use – or rather – is used – for weddings.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I heard you had weddings here,’ said Libby.

  ‘We don’t, exactly, they are civil ceremonies because the monastery is actually owned by a Heritage Trust, not the Abbey. But the land is still ours. It’s a very complicated situation.’ Martha opened the glass doors of the atrium. ‘We’ll keep these locked while the public are here, but the reliquary will be spotlit so they’ll be able to come and look at it. It’s quite a centre piece, isn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly is.’ Libby went out through the doors and turned back. ‘Thank you so much, Martha. Will you be around if we need to ask anything?’

  ‘Yes, of course. We’ve put our public toilets at your disposal, which are also used by visitors to the monastery, and they’re over there.’ She pointed.

  ‘She’s nice,’ said Libby to Peter as they strolled slowly towards the monastery ruins and their performance area. ‘What did you mean when you said you hoped they don’t regret it?’

  Peter stopped and stared up at the grey stone arches.

  ‘I just hope nothing goes wrong. I’ve got a rather nasty feeling that something might.’

  Chapter Nine

  The other actors, including Fran, began to arrive. They all drifted over to look at the reliquary, exclaiming or shuddering, according to temperament. When they had all assembled, Peter called them to order and showed them the layout of the performance area.

  ‘The only place you will be able to go to when off-stage is behind the Abbey building over there.’ He pointed beyond the atrium. ‘The gardener’s shed has been cleared for our use, but there isn’t much in there except a couple of benches. That’s where we’ll have to change, so don’t bring masses of belongings and make up – there just isn’t room. Right, now, everybody ready?’

  ‘It’s going quite well, isn’t it?’

  Dominic’s voice in her ear made Libby turn sharply.

  ‘Yes. Although we’ll have to stop soon because the light’s going.’ Libby peered through the grey ruins to where Peter stood on the far side. ‘I hope he’s organised the floodlights.’

  Dominic turned towards the atrium. ‘Makes the thing stand out though, doesn’t it? The dusk.’

  Libby looked across. The reliquary in its glass case glowed under the spotlight. ‘Certainly does.’

  ‘Doesn’t look very safe there, though.’

  ‘Oh, it’s very well guarded,’ said Libby. ‘Lasers and all sorts. And a security patrol.’

  ‘Just as well,’ said Dominic. ‘It looks valuable. Oh, hey, that’s me. I’m on.’

  Libby watched him stride on to the “stage” and declaim his lines. He was a pest in a lot of ways, but she supposed his heart was in the right place.

  Peter called a halt ten minutes later.

  ‘No use rehearsing in the dark,’ he said. ‘Luckily, the ruins have floodlighting, which we may have permission to turn on early, and we’ve also got more lights being loaned to us by the theatre’s lighting people. We won’t have those until the week of the performance, though, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the early floodlighting. Off you go.’

  ‘I’ll go and find Martha and tell her to lock up the reliquary,’ said Libby. ‘And someone’s got to lock the gates to the grounds.’

  She went into the atrium and called. Martha appeared immediately from a door to the left.

  ‘I’ve been watching out of the window,’ she said ‘It’s fascinating, isn’t it? I shall ask if we can put the floodlighting on as soon as you come for your next rehearsal.’

  ‘That’s just what Peter was hoping for! Who do we have to ask?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out,’ said Martha. ‘Are you ready for me to lock the gates?’

  ‘You do that, too, do you?’ Libby watched Martha switch off the spotlight and switch on the security.

  ‘When the heritage people aren’t here, yes. The whole site has to be kept secure. It’s not like Whitby Abbey where you can just wander in.’

  The main car park for the ruins was empty by the time Martha and Libby arrived, and Libby marvelled as the huge electronic gates swung slowly shut.

  ‘Your car’s in front of the Abbey, isn’t it?’ said Martha. ‘Come on, we can cut through here.’

  ‘The grounds are beautiful, aren’t they?’ said Libby, peering around her through the dusk.

  ‘Glorious. As long as the rain keeps off you’ll have a lovely week. Here we are.’

  They emerged on to the forecourt, where Peter and Ben were waiting by the car.

  ‘Thanks for everything, Martha,’ said Peter. ‘We hope we won’t be too much trouble.’

  She beamed. ‘Of course you won’t. We’re delighted to have you and the reliquary here.’

  ‘It’s going to work, isn’t it?’ said Libby, as Peter drove them out on to the main road. ‘It’s a lovely setting. And Martha’s going to ask for the floodlighting to be switched on early for us.’

  ‘Great. All I need to do now is finalise the paperwork with the heritag
e people,’ said Peter.

  ‘I was wondering about insurance,’ said Ben. ‘The Abbey surely can’t afford it for the reliquary?’

  ‘Apparently the estate are funding that. The main beneficiary has agreed that, and is actually coming to see the play.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said Libby. ‘So why haven’t we heard anything about this beneficiary before?’

  ‘I don’t know, but apparently he or she thinks it’s good exposure for the pesky thing, and will increase the chances of a good price. It’s going up for auction, now, rather than a private sale.’

  ‘Alastair Beaumont might not be able to afford it, then,’ said Ben. ‘Pity.’

  Rehearsals rolled on and were often blighted by rain. Final preparations were made, hundreds of yards of cabling were hidden among the ruins, and several large padlocks bought for the gardener’s shed, where all the lights were kept overnight. The security company patrolled the outside walls twice a night, and inside, using a side entrance at random times.

  ‘Wouldn’t want any Tom, Dick or Harry learning our routines, would we?’ said one of the security guards to Libby one evening as they packed up to go.

  ‘Must be costing a fortune,’ said Fran, as they arrived back at the pub in Steeple Martin, where Guy was meeting them.

  ‘It’s the beneficiary who’s paying again,’ said Libby. ‘He doesn’t want his precious bauble nicked before it makes a fortune at auction.’

  ‘Have you heard any more from Ian?’

  Libby shook her head. ‘Nothing. It’s as though he’s dropped the case.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he has, but it’s very different looking into a forty-year-old murder to one committed yesterday,’ said Fran. ‘He’s probably trying to track down whoever left the thing to – what was his name?’

  ‘Bernard Evans. Yes, I expect so. I hope he remembers to tell us what he finds out.’

  As Libby had predicted, Campbell McLean had been in touch and had already done a piece on the local news about the reliquary and the play, and on the first night was to bring a camera crew and interview Peter before the play began. However, he wasn’t allowed to film the reliquary, only to show the auction catalogue photograph.