Murder in Midwinter - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series

by Lesley Cookman

  ‘Why did she leave there to come here?’

  ‘Firstly, I suppose, she lives in the village, and second, she would never have been able to progress up the ladder as quickly.’

  ‘And she has here?’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Lib. She practically runs this place. She wanted to become a fully-fledged restaurant manager, which is what Laurence was. She’d never have taken over from him, would she?’

  ‘She would now,’ said Libby.

  ‘Not even now. His assistant has been deputy RM for at least five years, so he automatically steps into Laurence’s shoes.’

  ‘Did he hate him?’ Libby’s eyes lit up.

  ‘No, Lib, he loved him.’ Harry fixed her with a basilisk stare.

  ‘Oh.’ Abashed, Libby once more resorted to her wine.

  ‘Look, I wanted to talk to you about this, but you’ll have to let me tell it in my own way, without interruptions. Do you want to stay here, or come through to the back?’

  ‘What, the garden? Too bloody cold.’

  ‘Not the garden, fathead. The staff room.’

  ‘Oh, the cupboard? Is there room for two?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Nasty, nasty.’ Harry stood up. ‘We’ll go and have a chat, then you can come back out here and have whatever we’ve got left over in the kitchen.’

  ‘Ooh, thanks a bundle,’ said Libby, following him, nevertheless.

  The staff room, or cupboard, was a small, window-less room at the back of the kitchen, with a table, four chairs, a sink and a kettle. Harry made himself a cup of coffee and sat down next to Libby.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I know they’ve all said leave it alone because it’s nothing to do with you, but I have a very good reason for wanting to know a bit more about this.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Libby. ‘Is this to do with the assistant?’

  ‘Clever clogs. Yes, it is.’ Harry drank some coffee. ‘As you no doubt gathered from my subtle statement just now, said assistant is gay and a mate of mine.’

  ‘Like Terry, the chef?’

  ‘Not at all like Terry the chef. I only met him through Laurence, and as far as I can tell he’s as straight as a telegraph pole, and about as thick. Good chef, though. No, I met Laurence through Danny.’

  ‘Danny being his assistant?’ Libby was on the edge of being confused. ‘But I thought you said you met him at the wholesalers?’

  ‘I did, often. But I first met him with Danny.’

  ‘Where?’

  Harry went faintly pink. ‘In a club.’

  ‘A gay club? Down here?’

  ‘In London.’

  ‘Does Pete go there too?’

  ‘No.’ Harry was a much brighter pink, now. ‘It’s just an occasional jaunt on my own. To catch up with old mates. That sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Libby was dubious. ‘And Danny is an old mate?’

  ‘We’d met a couple of times because we both lived down here. Then he introduced me to Laurence. He was completely smitten, even though he’s so much younger.’

  ‘How old is Danny?’

  ‘About the same age as me,’ said Harry. ‘A really good bloke, and someone to talk to down here in the back of beyond when I feel the need.’

  ‘I thought you talked to me?’ Libby bristled.

  ‘I do, lambkin, but you can’t get away from it, you’re female.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Libby.

  ‘So, what I’m coming to is – guess who’s the chief suspect?’

  ‘Danny?’ Libby’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. ‘But why?’

  ‘Always look for the nearest and dearest, don’t they?’ said Harry, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘But how did they know? The police, I mean. He lived alone, didn’t he?’

  ‘Technically, yes, but Danny stayed over most of the time.’

  ‘So why didn’t he report him missing? Oh, don’t tell me – they’d had a row.’

  ‘On the button. A humdinger, according to Danny. And mostly our fault.’

  ‘Your fault? How?’

  ‘Our Civil Partnership. They were both involved in ours, Laurence had even suggested Anderson Place. And it gave Danny ideas.’

  ‘Oh, dear. He wanted to do it and Laurence didn’t?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Harry rocked back on his chair. ‘No idea why. Danny said all Laurence would say was he was too old.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ nodded Libby. ‘Sensible man, in my opinion. Look how silly Derek was with that Marion over half his age. Or should it be under?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘Well, whether you agree or disagree, that was the root cause of the fight. And then Laurence just disappeared. Danny thought he’d gone off to sulk, but after a while got worried. That was when he phoned sister Dorothy.’

  ‘Why didn’t he tell the management?’

  ‘They didn’t know about the relationship. Wouldn’t have approved, according to Danny. So he phoned sister Dorothy, who didn’t approve either, but at least knew about them. So she reported it to the police. And the rest you know.’

  ‘So why didn’t you tell us all this last night?’ asked Libby.

  ‘I’ll give you three guesses,’ said Harry, looking up at the ceiling.

  ‘Pete. He doesn’t know you knew them.’

  ‘Oh, he knew I knew them, but he assumed, like you, that I’d met them through wholesalers and being in the same business locally.’

  ‘So he didn’t know about the club in town?’

  ‘No. Still doesn’t.’ Harry let his chair crash back on to four legs. ‘Anyway, you see the problem? Danny is in the frame for this murder. So he needs your help.’

  ‘My help? What on earth can I do?’ said Libby, looking interested, nevertheless.

  ‘Well, Fran’s help, I suppose, and your nosiness. Go on, you always said playing detectives was my idea. I’m putting my money where my mouth is.’

  Libby stared into her empty wineglass. It was tempting.

  ‘Yes, but when we tried to find things out about the last two murders it was because we were involved personally and knew things to start off with. This time we’re completely outside, and we can hardly ask Inspector Connell for any more information.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Although, he did ask Fran in the first place …’

  ‘Exactly.’ Harry picked up her glass and refilled it from a bottle next to the kettle.

  ‘But that was because he thought she might connect the body to Bella Morleigh,’ said Libby.

  ‘No, it was because he wanted to find out if Fran could feel anything at all about the body. He suggested Bella should contact Fran because he was being sneaky.’

  ‘Can I talk to Fran about this?’ asked Libby. ‘I’m not sure what she’ll say, because she’s in one of her ambivalent phases, but she did say she felt a connection as soon as I told her you knew him. A familiarity was how she described it.’

  ‘There you are then,’ said Harry. ‘You’ve got to take it on.’

  ‘And what do I say to Ben and Pete?’

  ‘You’ve been asked to look into it,’ said Harry loftily. ‘Come on and I’ll give you some grub. Oh – meant to tell you, someone asked if you were my mother the other day.’ He giggled his way back through the kitchen leaving Libby to grind her teeth in his wake.

  Chapter Ten

  AFTER LUNCH, LIBBY LEFT The Pink Geranium and knocked on the door of Fran’s flat. She heard the window go up.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Fran’s head. ‘Hang on, I’ll come down.’

  ‘I’ve got someone with me, though,’ she said, leading the way back up the stairs. ‘So keep quiet.’

  Libby opened her mouth in indignation and shut it again when she saw Inspector Connell getting politely to his feet.

  ‘Mrs Sarjeant,’ he said.

  ‘Hello,’ said Libby, and went to perch on her usual window sill.

  ‘Inspector Connell was just filling me in on the details about the – er – the body,’ said Fran. I bet he was, thought Libby, looking
at Fran’s tall, voluptuous figure and sleek dark hair. Why can’t she see how attractive she is?

  ‘Well, that’s about it, actually, Mrs Castle,’ he said, remaining on his feet. ‘If you should come up with anything, you won’t forget to let us – me – know, will you? Anything at all.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll see you out.’

  ‘Cor, that was a bit of luck,’ said Libby, who, by the time Fran had returned had pushed up the window again and lit a cigarette.

  ‘It was? Why?’ Fran came back in and sat down.

  ‘You’ll never guess,’ said Libby, and recounted all that Harry had told her before lunch.

  Fran sat in silence after Libby had finished.

  ‘Well, say something,’ said Libby, climbing down from her windowsill.

  ‘That was the connection I saw, wasn’t it?’ said Fran.

  ‘Must have been. All a bit surprising really. What a coincidence.’

  ‘I hate coincidences. What are the odds? Really, I mean? Of me getting involved with a body as a result of Connell, and then the same body turning out to be a friend of Harry’s, with another friend of his as chief suspect?’

  ‘The biggest coincidence in my book is that you and I have been personally involved in two murder cases this year and now Harry is as well. That’s far more coincidental than the Inspector Connell Bella Morleigh connection.’

  Fran sighed. ‘You’re right. But I still don’t trust coincidences. There’s a link somewhere, I know there is. I just can’t see it yet.’

  ‘So do we look into it?’ Libby leant forward.

  ‘I suppose so. But I’ll have to tell Connell what you’ve told me.’

  ‘Well that doesn’t matter, he knows all that already. Just get his blessing.’

  ‘I think I’ve got that already, haven’t I?’

  ‘Oh, please get in touch, Mrs Castle. Anything, anything at all.’ Libby grinned. ‘I should say you have!’

  ‘I don’t know how I look into it, though. What do you suggest?’

  ‘Try and speak to this Danny? Look at Laurence’s flat? Speak to sister Dorothy?’

  ‘We’d never get near his flat,’ said Fran. ‘Ask Harry if he can introduce us to Danny.’

  ‘Unless they’ve got him in jug,’ said Libby.

  ‘Try and be serious, Lib,’ said Fran, standing up. ‘Shall we go down and ask him now? If he’s still there?’

  ‘OK, down the back way,’ said Libby.

  From the courtyard, they could see Harry in the kitchen. He waved, and a moment later came out wiping his hands on a paper towel.

  ‘Will you introduce us to Danny?’ said Libby, before anyone else had a chance to speak.

  ‘Yes,’ said Harry, looking surprised. ‘You’re going to help, then, Fran?’

  ‘I don’t have much of a choice,’ said Fran, with another sigh. ‘Even without you, it would be nagging away at me. When could we speak to him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll try calling his mobile, but if he’s still talking to the police we might not be able to get hold of him.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask your friend Terry the chef?’ said Libby. ‘He’s the one who told you about it in the first place, so he’d probably have up to date info.’

  ‘All right, but it’ll have to be after I’ve finished here. I’ll come up and tell you. Will you still be there, Lib?’

  ‘If you’re not too long and Fran can put up with me,’ said Libby.

  Harry appeared, however, within twenty minutes.

  ‘They’ve let Danny go for the moment, apparently,’ he said, throwing himself into a chair, ‘but he’s not to leave town.’

  ‘Where is he?’ said Libby.

  ‘He’s got one of the staff accommodation places in the grounds, so he’s there, I think. He’s not working. The management don’t quite know what to do for the best, Terry says.’

  ‘Who are the management?’ said Fran.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Harry shook his head. ‘I don’t even know who owns it.’

  ‘Haven’t you got a formal letter from them about the wedding?’ asked Libby. ‘You must have. That would have all the directors and info on it, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I have. It’s at home. I’ll have to see if I can sneak it out without Pete realising what I’m doing.’

  ‘Why does it have to be a secret from Pete?’ asked Fran. ‘I’ve been asked to look into it. He can’t have any objection to it, even if he did tell Lib to leave it alone.’

  ‘Very true, O wise one,’ said Harry, standing up. ‘I’ll go home and look for it. Is it important?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Fran slowly, ‘but first, what are we doing about Danny?’

  ‘I’ll try ringing him when I get back home and as soon as I’ve got anything to report, I’ll ring you both.’

  ‘Can’t do anything tonight, though,’ said Libby. ‘We’re rehearsing again.’

  ‘Bloody panto,’ said Harry. ‘Always getting in the way.’

  After he’d gone, Libby picked up her cape, scarf and basket and wrapped herself up. ‘I bet he is cursing the panto, really,’ she said. ‘He was quite jokey about it the other evening, but Pete’s left all the Civil Partnership stuff to him because he can’t think of anything else but flippin’ Jack and his flippin’ beanstalk.’

  ‘It’s yours, now, anyway,’ said Fran following Libby down the stairs. ‘You’re the director.’

  ‘I know, I know. I keep trying to tell him, but he was the same with The Hop Pickers, wasn’t he?’ She opened the front door. ‘See you tonight, but probably speak to you before then if Harry phones.’

  ‘If he does,’ said Fran.

  ‘He will,’ said Libby confidently. ‘This is his idea, after all!’

  It was dark by the time he rang, though, and Libby had lit the fire in the sitting room, drawn the curtains and made tea.

  ‘He says he doesn’t want to go out anywhere, and at first didn’t want to talk to anyone,’ said Harry, ‘but I persuaded him that Fran wasn’t just anyone and would be able to help.’

  ‘What about me?’ said Libby.

  ‘It’s Fran who might be able to find something out, isn’t it? Not you.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ said Libby. ‘Anyway, I shall go too, shan’t I?’

  ‘I expect so,’ said Harry. ‘No keeping you away.’

  ‘So when can we see him?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, if that’s all right? I want to come too, so I said ten o’clock, then I can be back here by about eleven-thirty for lunch time.’

  ‘That won’t give us long,’ said Libby.

  ‘I’ll go in my car, then and you two can go in one of yours. Then if Fran hasn’t finished I can leave before you.’

  ‘Oh, OK. Have you spoken to Fran?’

  ‘No, I thought you’d be madly jealous if I did that. Shall I say you’ll pick her up?’

  ‘I expect she’d prefer to go in her Roller-skate, so she can pick me up. She thinks she’s a safer driver than me.’

  ‘She’s probably right,’ said Harry. ‘See you in the morning.’

  At rehearsal later that evening, Fran confirmed that she would most certainly prefer to take her own car, if only because it was still a novelty to drive it.

  ‘I’m scared though, you know, Lib,’ she confessed quietly, while sitting in the auditorium with Libby watching the chorus being put through their paces by the musical director, who was proving efficient if a little inclined to make them all sing higher than they wanted.

  ‘What of?’ asked Libby. ‘Not of Danny?’

  ‘No, just the whole thing. I really thought it was all behind me after the business with Aunt Eleanor’s death.’

  Libby looked at her with sympathy.

  ‘It can be, you know,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to do this. I just get over-enthusiastic. Just tell Harry and Bella you don’t want to continue.’

  ‘They’d be disappointed,’ said Fran. ‘And Danny really needs help, if what Ha
rry says is true.’

  ‘And Bella doesn’t?’ asked Libby. ‘Well, no, I suppose she doesn’t. She can find everything about her family on that computer and she’s got her inheritance, so she doesn’t need you.’

  ‘But she does. There’s something there, too, but I haven’t got to the bottom of it. Could just be that I think she’s got a lousy husband, of course.’

  Libby giggled. ‘Join the club, Bella,’ she said.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE NEXT MORNING FRAN drove the Roller-skate decorously behind Harry’s car to where the main drive to Anderson Place divided and swept round to a stable yard.

  ‘This is it,’ said Harry, ‘although we have to walk to get to the cottage.’

  ‘Oh, he doesn’t live here, then?’ said Libby, looking round at the stables, which were obvious conversions.

  ‘Only senior staff and some guest rooms here,’ said Harry. ‘Come on. We go through here.’

  They tramped along a pathway which became less manicured as they went on, until they came to a pair of semi-detached redbrick Victorian cottages.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Harry, and went up to the dark green front door, which was opened before he could knock.

  ‘Hi, Dan,’ said Harry, and enfolded the slight dark young man before them in a bear hug.

  ‘This is Fran,’ he said, disentangling himself, ‘and this is Libby. I think they might be able to help, as I told you. Well, Fran, might. I don’t know about Lib.’

  Libby glared, before stepping forward and holding out her hand. ‘Hi, Danny,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Fran, coming up behind her.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Danny in a rather high and unsteady voice. ‘Please come in.’

  They followed him into a small, untidy sitting room, obviously furnished with discarded items from the main house. He sat down and waved a hand towards a small sofa. Harry took one look and sat on the floor.

  ‘So what’s happened, Dan?’ he said. ‘The police don’t think you had anything to do with it, now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Danny took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know why they wanted to question me in the first place.’

  ‘Because you were the closest to him,’ said Fran, ‘and they always look there first. Don’t they Libby?’