‘Yes,’ said Libby, not knowing, but willing.
Danny nodded, leant back in his chair and let out a sigh.
‘How did they know you were closest to him?’ asked Fran. ‘Harry said no one here knew you were a couple.’
‘Management didn’t, but a few of the blokes did. Terry knew,’ he said, looking at Harry, ‘and Dorothy knew. Didn’t approve, but she knew. It had caused a split between her and Larry, although I don’t think they’d been very close before.’
‘How old is Dorothy?’ asked Libby.
Danny looked surprised. ‘I don’t know. Older than Larry. Late sixties? Early seventies?’
‘Well, that explains it,’ said Libby. ‘Large age gap between brother and sister and she’s of the generation that maybe wouldn’t understand about gay couples. I bet she didn’t approve of civil partnerships and women vicars.’
Harry and Fran looked scandalised, but Danny smiled slightly. ‘You’re dead right,’ he said. ‘Mind you, Larry wasn’t that keen on civil partnerships, either.’
‘So Harry said,’ said Fran quickly, trying to regain control of the conversation before Libby took it over completely. ‘And Harry blames himself for your row.’
‘That’s daft, Hal,’ said Danny, putting out a hand to Harry. ‘It wasn’t civil partnerships in general so much as ours. He just didn’t want it.’
‘The same as people not wanting to get married,’ said Libby.
‘Exactly,’ said Danny, smiling at her again. ‘I think there must have been something in his past that put him off, although he never told me.’
‘Could he have been married?’ asked Fran. ‘Had he only come out recently?’
‘Not that recently,’ said Danny, ‘we’d been together, what – three years, Hal? – he wasn’t new on the scene then. He never said much about his past life, though. I met Dorothy because he wanted me to, but neither of us wanted to meet again.’
‘But you went to her when he disappeared?’ said Harry.
Danny shrugged. ‘I didn’t know what to do. Management didn’t seem too bothered, although I don’t know why. He was very good at his job and he never stepped over the line. I thought it would seem a bit odd if I reported him missing, so I went to Dorothy. Phoned her, rather.’
‘Did she come here?’ asked Libby.
‘Not until after he was found.’ Danny swallowed. ‘She had to identify him. Poor soul.’ Whether he referred to Dorothy or Laurence wasn’t clear.
‘So she called the police to report him missing. I’m surprised they took it seriously,’ said Fran, ‘after all, he was single, living alone and didn’t see his sister regularly.’
‘I think it was because someone thought about the body,’ said Danny, ‘otherwise they wouldn’t have done.’
‘Had you been to his flat? After he disappeared, I mean,’ said Fran.
‘Oh, yes. I had a key. I lived there most of the time. I – I don’t feel at home here.’ Danny lowered his head, and Libby felt sympathetic tears spring to her eyes.
‘So the police would have found your prints and DNA all over the place?’ said Fran.
‘Well, of course they would,’ snapped Libby. ‘He’s just said he more or less lived there.’
Fran pursed her lips.
‘But they wouldn’t have known who it belonged to unless they had Danny on file,’ said Harry.
‘Oh, Dorothy told them all about me,’ said Danny, without bitterness. ‘She told them I had called her and all about what she called our “association”.’
‘Hmph,’ said Libby.
‘So they came and asked you about it,’ said Fran. ‘What makes you think they suspect you?’
‘Their attitude,’ said Danny, sitting up straight. ‘It was so bloody obvious. The only thing they couldn’t seem to fit in was the timing. We had our row over three weeks ago, and they don’t think he’s been dead that long.’
‘Golly,’ said Libby, wrinkling her nose.
‘But just because you had your row three weeks ago doesn’t mean you couldn’t have killed him after that time, does it?’ said Fran.
The other three stared at her in horror.
‘Well, it doesn’t, does it?’ she said. ‘So you must have a pretty solid alibi for the last two weeks.’
‘I do,’ said Danny, surprisingly. ‘I was away.’
‘Away?’ chorused Harry, Fran and Libby.
‘After we’d had our row, I took some annual leave. That was why I didn’t realise he’d gone missing at first. I was just as huffy as he was, so I went off to my parents.’
‘Where?’ said Libby.
‘Durham,’ said Danny.
‘You haven’t got an accent,’ was all Libby could think of to say.
‘They moved there when I was sixteen,’ said Danny. ‘I love it. And I couldn’t nip home in a couple of hours to commit a murder, could I?’
Fran looked at Harry in exasperation. ‘So he doesn’t really need our help, does he? He’s got a perfectly good alibi.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ said Harry. ‘I just wanted to help.’
‘I know, Hal,’ said Danny, squeezing his hand. ‘And I’m truly grateful. The police won’t stop trying to break my alibi, anyway, so all help gratefully received. But Harry says you’re a psychic.’ He turned to Fran. ‘Can’t you help find his murderer?’
‘She is,’ said Libby.
‘No, I’m not,’ said Fran.
‘The inspector in charge of the investigation put the woman who found the body in touch with her,’ explained Libby, ‘to see if she had any connection with the case.’
‘And has she?’ asked Danny.
Libby opened her mouth and Fran shut her up with a look.
‘I can’t see how,’ said Fran. ‘We’ve gone through her family background and there aren’t any Coopers as far as we know, but it could be unconnected with her family.’
‘It could be anything, couldn’t it?’ said Danny, looking more animated. ‘A lover – or, no, not that –’
‘It could be,’ said Harry, ‘if she had a lover who thought she was carrying on with Laurence.’
‘Oh, come on, Harry,’ said Libby. ‘She knew nothing about the body.’
‘Did she see it?’ asked Harry.
‘Well, of course she saw it.’ Fran shuddered. ‘Although she wouldn’t have been able to identify it at the time.’
‘Anyway,’ said Libby, ‘if that woman has ever had a lover I’ll be a hat stand.’
Fran and Harry murmured agreement.
‘Are you going to try and find out?’ asked Danny, after a moment.
‘She won’t be able to help herself, will you Fran?’ said Libby.
‘Not if you’ve got anything to do with it,’ said Harry.
‘I could help,’ said Danny tentatively. ‘I mean, it would give me something to do and make me feel a bit less useless, and I know as much as anyone except Dorothy about him.’
‘You said he never said much about his past life,’ said Fran.
‘No, but there were a few things. And maybe Dorothy would talk to you. She was a bit nicer to me after – after –’
‘I don’t think she would,’ said Fran, ‘but perhaps we’ll keep her in reserve.’
‘Well,’ said Harry, standing up, ‘I don’t know if you two want to stay on, but I’ve got to get back.’
‘Shall we go, Danny?’ asked Libby. ‘Would you prefer us to come back another time?’
Fran frowned, but Danny nodded.
‘Could you come back?’ he said. ‘I’ll think about everything he ever told me, and look out his letters. That would help, wouldn’t it?’ He turned to Fran.
‘Possibly,’ she said, ‘but don’t hold out too much hope. I might not find anything.’
Looking far better than when they had arrived, Danny saw them to the door. ‘I might even go back to work,’ he said, ‘if they let me.’
‘Might they not?’ asked Libby. ‘Why?’
‘Because of the relatio
nship angle, I think. And they weren’t too keen on having an employee questioned by the police.’
‘If they try to sack you because of that you could sue them,’ said Libby, bristling.
Danny smiled bleakly. ‘I suppose I could. But management aren’t actually too bad. Old Jonathan’s all right.’
‘Jonathan?’ said Fran.
‘Jonathan Walker,’ said Danny. ‘He’s a descendant of the chap who originally built this place.’
‘Anderson?’ said Libby.
‘So it’s stayed in the family,’ said Fran thoughtfully.
‘Only just, I think,’ said Danny. ‘They nearly lost it. It was a hospital or something during the war. Or a school.’
‘Like Tyne Hall,’ said Libby to Fran.
‘Tyne Hall?’ asked Danny.
‘A place we went to last summer,’ said Fran. ‘It’s falling down now, but that was a hospital during the war, too.’
‘I expect this would have fallen down, too,’ said Danny, ‘but old Jonathan decided to turn it into a hotel.’
‘How did he afford it, I wonder?’ mused Libby.
‘No idea, but whatever he did, it worked,’ said Danny.
‘Is all this public knowledge?’ asked Fran.
Danny shrugged. ‘I think so. Larry seemed to know all about it, anyway.’
When they’d left Danny to go and ask if he could go back to work, Fran and Libby set off down the drive in the Roller-skate.
‘What do you think?’ asked Libby, after they’d negotiated the turn out of the gates.
‘I don’t know,’ said Fran. ‘I want to find out more about Laurence Cooper, and Danny’s the only link.’
‘You think he’s got some connection to Bella’s family, then? Or to Bella herself?’
‘I wish I knew,’ said Fran with a sigh. ‘There’s a feeling sort of buzzing around the back of my head like tinnitus, but I can’t put my finger on it.’
‘Danny didn’t do it, though, did he?’ said Libby.
‘As far as I can tell, no,’ said Fran, ‘but I don’t really know anything, do I?’
‘Let’s go back and sleuth through the documents some more,’ suggested Libby. ‘We might come up with a Cooper somewhere along the line.’
‘Or a Walker,’ said Fran.
‘Walker?’
‘The owner of Anderson Place,’ said Fran. ‘I’ve got a feeling about him.’
Chapter Twelve
‘DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING about Anderson Place?’ asked Libby, as she accepted a glass of red wine from Flo Carpenter in her little house just off the High Street the same afternoon.
‘Where our Peter and Harry are gettin’ ’itched?’ Flo sat down with a thump and lit a cigarette. ‘Not much. Horspital during the war, like Tyne Hall. Could’a been a school.’
‘Do you know who owns it?’
‘No,’ said Flo. ‘Don’t think it was ever sold, so in the same family, I expect.’
‘You didn’t know the family?’
‘Me?’ Flo let out a screech of laughter. ‘Go on with you, gal. How would I know? My Frank weren’t gentry any more’n I am. We used ter get a few of ’em in the pub during the war, but we wasn’t welcome in the pub. You know about the locals and the hop pickers, doncher?’
‘Yes, daggers drawn, weren’t they?’ said Libby. ‘But some of the Anderson Place people came down here?’
‘Nurses and doctors and some of the patients. I don’t know whether any of the family were there then.’
‘Oh, well, it was worth a try,’ said Libby. ‘How are you and Lenny getting on?’
‘Not so bad,’ said Flo, leaning back with a smug expression on her face. ‘Good job we didn’t get together when we was younger, though. We’d’a scratched each other’s eyes out.’
‘Really?’ said Libby.
‘Oh, yers. We was never suited in the early days. I told yer before. Now, though, it’s different. I tells him what to do, and he does it.’
Libby laughed. ‘Where is he now?’
‘Off up to Hetty’s. Greg’s not so good, you know. Oh, course you know. How is Ben?’
Libby coloured. ‘Fine, thank you.’
‘See, I told you he needed a good woman of his own age.’
‘Actually, you said a good solid woman of his own age,’ said Libby.
‘There you are, then. I was right, wasn’t I?’ said Flo.
Libby saw fit to leave this part of the conversation out when she reported to Fran.
‘Have you looked it up on the internet?’ asked Fran. ‘It’s bound to have a website, and probably a page about its history.’
‘Oh, of course,’ said Libby. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘Because you’re not used to having a computer yet. Don’t worry about it. Ring me when you’ve looked it up.’
‘Why don’t you come over and we can look it up together,’ suggested Libby. ‘Then, if there’s anything else you want to look up, you can.’
‘All right,’ said Fran, after a pause. ‘I suppose it makes sense.’
‘You can eat here if you like, as we’ve got rehearsal this evening,’ offered Libby.
‘No, it’s OK. I’ve got a casserole in the oven already,’ said Fran.
‘How organised,’ said Libby gloomily. ‘All right, just come over for a cuppa.’
‘I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes,’ said Fran, and rang off.
Libby lit the fire in the sitting room and switched on her computer, then put Anderson Place in to the search engine. Sure enough, it did have a website, and yes, it had a history page. She clicked on it and was still immersed when Fran knocked at the door.
‘Look at this,’ she said, drawing up another chair to the table.
‘“Anderson Place,”’ she read, ‘“was re-built in 1904 by Sir Frederick Anderson. He moved in with his wife and family, and the house has remained occupied by descendants of the family up to the present day. During the war, it was turned into a military hospital and the family moved to the gatehouse and one of the lodges on the estate. A great deal of damage was done to the house at this time, and after the war, Sir Frederick’s eldest grandson, William, began to try and repair the devastation.
‘“It wasn’t until Jonathan Walker, Sir Frederick’s great-grandson, had the idea of turning the house into a country hotel in the 1980s that the fortunes of Anderson Place began to turn. A series of open air concerts and festivals in the grounds began to make enough money to finance the venture, as did the hiring of both house and grounds for cinema and television filming.”’ There followed a list of the prestigious films and television series in which Anderson Place had appeared.
‘“The house and grounds are still used as a film location, and concerts are still held in the natural amphitheatre, but it is as an hotel and wedding venue that Anderson Place is known throughout south eastern England.”’
‘Well, that doesn’t tell us much,’ said Libby getting up to go and make the tea.
‘I suppose William Anderson must have had a daughter as Jonathan’s surname is Walker,’ said Fran.
‘It doesn’t actually say how many of his family he moved in with, does it?’ said Libby from the kitchen.
‘It says wife and family. Do you suppose Ivy was the wife?’
‘Must have been,’ said Libby. ‘It was Sir Frederick and Ivy that Dorinda says she went to see in that letter. At the Place, I suppose.’
‘It doesn’t feel right.’ Fran shook her head. ‘Ivy doesn’t feel right.’
‘Well, it doesn’t seem to have a link to Laurence, anyway. He just worked there.’
‘He could still be a relative. Anderson was the old man’s name and Walker is the great-grandson’s name. There could be a Cooper in there, as well.’
‘You’re convinced, are you?’ Libby came in with two mugs. ‘That Laurence is an Anderson? And so is Bella? I don’t get that at all, or why you should think so.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Fran. ‘I’m just sure there’s a li
nk.’
‘Well, Bella fell over Laurence’s body, that’s a fairly substantial link,’ said Libby.
‘Do you think that’s all it is?’ asked Fran, going to the armchair by the fire. ‘And I’m connecting things just to prove something?’
‘Not consciously,’ said Libby, settling on the creaky sofa, ‘and after all, we did find a mention of Sir Frederick and Ivy in Maria’s stuff, and he had Anderson Place re-built, so there is a sort of connection.’
‘Yes, but only because Laurence worked there. That’s probably all there is.’
‘What about Danny?’
‘What about him?’
‘He wants to find out who killed Laurence.’
‘But I don’t think Bella had anything to do with it. I can’t quite see why I’m bashing my head against a brick wall, can you?’
Libby regarded her thoughtfully. ‘No, but then, I never can. It’s your little synapses going hell for leather that make these connections, isn’t it? There must be some reason you’re trying to find things out. Why don’t we go and sleuth among the papers again, like I said?’
‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.’ Fran gave a tired smile. ‘For historical interest, if nothing else.’
‘Better phone Bella and let her know, then,’ said Libby. ‘Shall we go tomorrow?’
‘Haven’t you got anything else to do?’ laughed Fran. ‘Christmas? Panto? Finding an outfit for the wedding?’
‘Oh, I’ve done most of the shopping and I’m getting a supermarket delivery a few days before Christmas. Nothing I can do about the panto now, and I’ve ordered an outfit for the wedding from an online shop.’ Libby looked smug.
‘Really? That’s adventurous of you.’
‘Not really. A shop I used to know in the north east, near Newcastle, have now got a website. Smashing clothes, they all fit me and they’re my style. You know, like you were saying the other day. A bit sort of ethnic-ey. I’ll give you the name, but they aren’t quite tailored enough for you.’ Libby looked her friend up and down.
‘Oh.’ Fran frowned. ‘Am I really boring?’
‘Of course not,’ said Libby. ‘And Guy doesn’t think so, does he?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Fran. ‘I suppose not.’
‘Well, you’re not as conservative as you were when you first came down,’ said Libby. ‘You wear jeans and stuff now. You used to be all navy blue and court shoes.’
Murder in Midwinter - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series Page 13