‘Well, of course not,’ said Libby. ‘You scared whoever it was off.’
‘You don’t think she was hiding inside and was just breaking out, realising she’d been locked in?’
Libby and Hetty looked incredulous.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Libby asked.
‘I was just thinking what a stupid place it was to try and hide out, that’s all,’ said Ben. ‘If that’s what it was. After all, there’s nothing to steal in the theatre, is there?’
‘Our tech equipment and lights,’ said Libby, ‘but that would need a van to take it away. No, I don’t think the theatre was being burgled.’
‘No.’ Ben sighed.
‘I went and had a look at the yard this afternoon,’ said Libby. ‘I couldn’t tell if anything was missing.’
‘Did the police look at it?’
‘Fran reckoned the police would have been all over the grounds this morning.’
‘They were,’ said Hetty. ‘Come and ask permission. Don’t know where they went. Left ’em to it.’
‘Just have to wait until we hear from Ian, then,’ said Libby. ‘If we ever do.’
The three of them ate Hetty’s stew sitting round the kitchen table, with Sidney perched hopefully next to the Rayburn. Ben heroically refused wine and consumed most of his bunch of grapes instead. Libby refused Hetty’s offer of help to wash up and Ben declared his aim of escorting his mother home.
‘Don’t be daft,’ she said. ‘Supposed to rest. It’s still light, ain’t it?’
As soon as she’d left, Ben called Peter and asked him to watch out for her.
‘He told me not to be an old woman, that my mother was walking home in broad daylight in her home village in full sight of people she’d known most of her life,’ said Ben with a grin. ‘I think that bump on the head must have affected me after all!’
Libby left him on the sofa while she went to tackle the washing-up and heard the phone ring again. Ben appeared in the doorway frowning, the phone still to his ear.
‘Yes,’ he was saying, ‘but honestly, I think you’d better talk to Libby. She’s right here.’
‘David Fletcher,’ he mouthed, holding out the receiver. ‘He wants to talk about his wife.’
Chapter Thirty-four
‘David?’
‘Yes, Libby. Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but I know something’s been going on with my wife, but I can’t get anyone to talk about it. You’re all blocking me every time I try and find out.’
Libby thought for a moment. ‘If you’d been honest from the first it might have been different, but we were warned about you by the police.’
‘The police?’ David’s voice rose several notches. ‘What on earth for?’
‘To find out that a person’s estranged husband is making enquiries about her immediately after a murder and a vicious attack, seemingly under cover, is enough to make anyone suspicious,’ said Libby. ‘Have you spoken to the police now?’
‘No, of course not. They wouldn’t tell me anything the first time I asked.’
‘Well, I should, if I were you,’ said Libby, ‘because whatever you tell me I shall pass on, and it would be better coming from you.’
There was a short silence. Then:
‘All right. I’ll call them now. Do I use 999?’
‘No, I’ll give you the number to use, just hold on a moment.’ Libby reached for her mobile to look up Ian’s official number. ‘He wants to talk,’ she whispered to Ben. ‘What shall I do?’
‘Ask him here,’ said Ben, ‘and I’ll make sure Pete knows he’s coming in case of trouble.’
‘Here you are,’ said Libby into the phone, and gave David the number. ‘I expect you’ll have to leave a message. Meanwhile, if you’re not doing anything, do you want to come over here and talk about it? I can’t guarantee that we’ve got any answers, but we might have.’
‘Would you mind? I don’t seem to have endeared myself to any of you over the last couple of weeks.’
Libby sighed. ‘No. Blame our suspicious minds. But do come over. We might be able to sort a few things out. Do you know where we are?’
‘Aren’t you at the Manor?’
‘No, Ben’s mother lives there. We live at number 17, Allhallow’s Lane. Come down the hill from Nethergate, pass the Manor and theatre drive and it’s the next on the left.’
‘Half an hour, he said,’ said Libby, switching off the phone. ‘How much do we tell him?’
‘I think we’ll have to let him talk and just confirm where we can,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve called Pete.’
‘We won’t even know if he really has called Ian, either,’ said Libby, turning back to the sink.
‘Oh, I think he will have done, because he knows you will,’ said Ben. ‘And this, if I mistake not, Watson, will be our client now.’ He answered the phone. ‘Hello, Ian. We were just talking about you. Yes, we know, he’s coming here to talk to us about it. What do we say? Oh, right. Half an hour – yes, that’ll be fine. He’ll be spooked, though.’ He switched off the phone. ‘Yes, David left a message and Ian’s coming here, too.’
‘You’re right, he will be spooked. What do we say in the meantime?’
‘Play it by ear,’ said Ben with a grin. ‘As if that isn’t what you do all the time.’
By the time David knocked at the door, the washing-up was done and the big kettle was whispering to itself on the Rayburn.
‘Coffee?’ Libby offered, as he sat down in the chair opposite the sofa. ‘I thought you wouldn’t want a drink as you’ve got to drive home.’
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ David looked round. ‘Lovely cottage.’
‘Thank you,’ said Libby. ‘I won’t be a minute.’
She made coffee in a jug and put it on the tray with milk and mugs.
‘So, what is it you want to tell us?’ asked Ben, when they were settled.
‘It’s more what you can tell me,’ said David. ‘I read – or heard, I can’t now remember – that my wife, Cornelia, had been hurt in an attack at St Eldreda’s Abbey, and there was also a murder. I called the Abbey, but they wouldn’t comment, neither would the police, so I decided to come down here and find out myself. I called Susannah because we’ve worked together several times and it was pure coincidence that you’d just asked her into your show.’
‘Why did you want to find out about Cornelia?’ asked Libby.
David looked surprised. ‘Wouldn’t you? If it was your husband?’
‘But you no longer live together. She’s cut all ties, she told me so herself.’
‘So you do know her!’ said David in triumph.
‘Yes, I do, but as I said, she told me you’d cut all ties.’
‘She did. Nothing to do with me. I wasn’t surprised to hear that the attack had been in an Abbey, though.’
‘Oh? Why?’ said Ben.
‘One of the reasons for the split. She had become more and more – well, religious, I suppose. And St Eldreda’s, of all places. I knew there must be something up.’
Libby and Ben looked at each other.
‘Because?’ asked Libby.
‘Oh, something to do with her ancestors. There was a casket, or something.’
Libby sighed. ‘Yes, we know all about that. Didn’t you see it mentioned in the paper?’
‘No.’ David looked from one to the other in apparent bewilderment.
‘What did you see, then?’ said Ben.
‘That an actor who’d been performing in a play in the Monastery had been murdered and my wife had been the victim of a brutal attack.’
‘You didn’t go back to find out what the play had been about?’ said Libby.
‘No. It mentioned you, which was how I was able to track you down.’
‘Me?’ said Libby. ‘Or the Oast House Theatre?’
‘The Oast,’ said David.
There was a sharp rap on the door. Libby got up.
‘I’m sorry,’ she heard David say, ‘I didn’t ask about
your head. What happened?’
‘Ian, come in.’ Libby held the door open and allowed Ian to pass her.
‘David, I don’t think you’ve met Detective Chief Inspector Connell, have you?’ said Ben.
David looked pole-axed.
‘Mr Fletcher.’ Ian pulled out one of the upright chairs and sat down.
‘Coffee?’ asked Libby. ‘I’ll fetch a mug.’
‘Look,’ David stood up. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted. I’ll –’
‘Sit down, Mr Fletcher. You obviously wanted to talk to me, so I’ve come here for you to do just that.’
David looked round at the three expectant faces and sat down again. Libby poured a mug of coffee for Ian and handed it over.
‘David has just been telling us how he came to be looking for his wife, Ian. Would you like him to repeat it?’
David gave a précis of what he’d said and when he’d finished, looked anxiously at Ian.
‘And I’m sure Mrs Sarjeant has told you she knows about your wife’s ancestry? And the links to the reliquary?’
‘The what?’
‘Come, Mr Fletcher. I’m sure you know exactly what I mean. After all, it must have come up when you were talking to Mrs Butcher last Sunday.’
David’s jaw dropped.
‘And did she stay with you?’ asked Libby. Ian frowned at her.
‘Yes, she did.’ David sighed heavily. ‘If you know about Estelle, I’d better tell you everything that happened.’
‘It would be best, sir,’ said Ian.
‘Cornelia and Estelle are cousins,’ began David.
‘We know,’ chorused Ben and Libby.
‘Is there anything you don’t know?’ snapped David.
‘Yes. Why you met Estelle,’ said Libby, equally waspish.
‘When I saw the murdered man’s name, I knew it was Estelle’s husband. I couldn’t believe it was a coincidence, I thought they must have patched up their differences and become friends again – Estelle and Cornelia, I mean.’
‘Had there been a family argument?’ asked Ian.
‘I believe the cousins had been quite close when they were children, but there was some kind of – I don’t really know – a difference of opinion. They’d kept in touch, though. Anyway, I thought I’d call Estelle.’ He fell silent.
Ian put down his mug. ‘And then?’
‘Well, she was in a state. I couldn’t quite make out what she was going on about, but she said she was down here already and they wouldn’t let her into Dom’s house. She also said she knew nothing about Cornelia being attacked.’
‘So you met her at Creekmarsh Place?’ said Ben.
‘Yes. How do you know?’
‘Sheer coincidence,’ said Libby. ‘We know the owner. We were there raiding the vegetable beds.’
‘Oh.’ David shrugged. ‘Well, we drove miles away and had a pub lunch, which Estelle spent complaining that the police and the theatre company were being obstructive, and why couldn’t she go into Dom’s house. I said all the right things about Dom, I think, although I’d never liked him. Never liked her, much, either. I said all I wanted to find out about was Cornelia, but she just wouldn’t talk about that. Anyway, I said she could stay in the cottage that night.’
‘And the next night?’ asked Ian.
‘No, but she did turn up on Tuesday. I let her use the washing machine.’
‘Ah,’ said Libby. Ian frowned at her again.
‘And the next time you saw her?’ said Ian.
‘I haven’t seen her since.’ David looked round at them all. ‘Look, what is this all about?’
‘It’s rather complicated,’ said Libby. ‘Much of it is about Cornelia’s family history.’
‘Really?’ He looked puzzled.
‘Do you really not know the history of the reliquary?’ said Ben.
‘I know it was a jewelled casket that had belonged to the family years ago and was something to do with St Eldreda.’
‘Which family?’ asked Libby.
David looked surprised. ‘The Glovers, I suppose.’
‘It’s far more complicated than that,’ said Ian. ‘Did you get any hint from Mrs Butcher that the item featured in her husband’s murder?’
‘She said she thought it had been stolen, and it was family property anyway. It didn’t seem to be her main worry, though.’
‘Oh.’ It was Libby’s turn to look surprised.
‘So you don’t know where Mrs Butcher’s been since Tuesday?’ said Ian.
‘No.’
‘Not last night, for instance?’
‘Last night? No!’
‘You didn’t go to the theatre?’
‘No!’ David looked from Ian to Libby. ‘You told Susannah I wasn’t needed last night.’
‘We did.’ Libby nodded. ‘And Estelle didn’t turn up on your doorstep last night?’
‘I’ve already said, no. And why? Why do you need to know about her last night? What’s happened.’
‘This,’ said Ben, pointing to his dressing.
‘You said –’
‘It happened at the theatre,’ said Ben. ‘It did. Someone was trying to break in and I interrupted.’
‘But why should it have been Estelle?’ asked David, now looking thoroughly confused.
Ian calmly explained how Estelle was suspected of breaking into Dominic’s house and the Hoppers’ Hut and the reasons.
‘Why haven’t you asked Cornelia about her?’ said David when Ian had finished.
‘We’ve been protecting Mrs Fletcher since the attack in case someone decided to finish the job,’ said Ian.
‘Oh, I see! That was why you wouldn’t let me near her!’
Ian inclined his head.
‘So can I see her now? Where is she?’
‘We’ve only got your word so far that all you want to do is find out how she is, Mr Fletcher, so until we find her attacker and Mr Butcher’s murderer, she’s staying just where she is.’
Libby broke the awkward silence.
‘So, did Cornelia tell you much about the family? She and Estelle weren’t first cousins, were they?’
‘No, their mothers were,’ said David. ‘They were close when the girls were born. And they both used to talk about their favourite uncle.’
‘Oh?’ said three voices.
‘Yes, Edgar. Uncle Edgar.’
Chapter Thirty-five
‘So does that leave us any further on?’ asked Libby, when David had gone, with assurances that they would tell him anything they thought he ought to know in the future.
‘It’s become a possibility that both Cornelia and Estelle knew about the stolen reliquary from Uncle Edgar,’ said Ian.
‘But they were only little girls! He wouldn’t have told them,’ said Libby.
‘Simply because of that,’ said Ian. ‘Can’t you see a slightly disreputable uncle showing his little nieces a secret? They’d have loved that. And when he sold it he disappeared off to the Caribbean and became even more romantic in their eyes.’
‘Hmm. And when they grew up they realised what had really happened?’
‘Maybe not until the reliquary came on the market,’ said Ian.
‘So it begins to look as if Estelle is the murderer?’ said Ben.
‘Except that David said Estelle didn’t seem interested in Cornelia. Wouldn’t she be worried that Cornelia would point the finger if she recovered?’ said Libby.
‘She was wearing the missing robe, we think,’ said Ian. ‘Perhaps she was sure she wouldn’t be recognised.’ He frowned. ‘It doesn’t ring true to me, though.’
‘Who else could it be, though?’ said Libby. ‘Are there any other suspects you haven’t told us about?’
‘Yes, there are,’ said Ian with a laugh. ‘But all boring ones as far as you’re concerened.’
‘What do you mean, boring?’
‘Debtors, mainly. He was in with some very nasty people.’
‘But could they have got down here and into the monas
tery?’ said Ben. ‘Unlikely, surely?’
‘Very,’ said Ian. ‘But there is one other, of course.’
‘Who?’
‘David himself.’
Libby’s mouth dropped open.
‘Didn’t you believe him?’ asked Ben.
‘I think a lot of what he said was true. But don’t you wonder just a little about his rather urgent wish to see his estranged wife?’
‘The recognition thing, again,’ said Libby. ‘So what did he lie about?’
‘Only hearing about the case after it had happened,’ said Ian. ‘Everything else is substantially correct, I expect. It still doesn’t explain Estelle’s actions, though.’
‘Oh, but it does!’ said Libby. ‘She’s discovered what’s going on and is in hiding from him. That’s why she didn’t go back to his cottage to collect her washing!’
‘Possible,’ said Ian. ‘We just need to find her – not least because she may have put you in hospital, Ben.’
‘Couldn’t that have been David, too?’ said Libby.
‘Why would he need to get into the theatre? He’s been perfectly safe in his cottage.’
‘Oh – yes.’ Libby’s face fell. ‘Still, it’s a good theory about Estelle, isn’t it?’
‘It is.’ Ian smiled and got to his feet. ‘Thanks for arranging this evening. If we’ve started a hare, so much the better.’
‘I’ve just realised,’ said Libby, as she accompanied him to the door, ‘we all referred to her as Cornelia. No one mentioned Martha. Does he still not know?’
‘If he does, he was being very careful not to admit it. Now don’t worry about it any more, Libby. Go and look after Ben. Not that he looks as if he needs it.’
‘He doesn’t,’ said Libby. ‘I’d say he was a fraud if it wasn’t for how much he worried me last night.’
‘I heard that,’ said Ben, as she went back into the living room. ‘I shall now demand a whisky.’
‘Should you?’ said Libby doubtfully.
‘Yes, I should, and so should you. And after that, we should have an early night.’
On Saturday morning, Libby decided to go to the Abbey during their open hours and see if it would be possible to see Martha.
‘Don’t tell her anything, though,’ said Ben. ‘You don’t want to upset any apple carts.’
Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) Page 25