Murder in Midwinter - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series

by Lesley Cookman

  She found nothing relevant in either of the newspapers. The files contained mainly postcards, leaflets and the odd letter, some of which were almost undecipherable. Until she found one which looked like a receipt, which read “In respect of goods received the sum of Fifty Pounds. Albert Cooper.” The date was September 1904.

  Libby sat back in her chair and stared out of the window. Goods? The diamond necklace? And 1904? Surely the news item about the necklace had been 1903? But Cooper. Laurence’s grandfather? At least here was a link between Dorinda and Laurence, even if there was no link to the Andersons.

  She rang Fran, who said she would be round immediately. Libby decided she was probably fed up with packing boxes.

  By the time Fran arrived, Libby had drawn the curtains, stoked up the fire and made a fresh pot of tea.

  ‘This is nice,’ said Fran holding out her hands to the blaze. ‘Just think, this time next week I could be lighting my own fire.’

  ‘Yes, but you won’t be able to pop round here at the drop of a hat,’ said Libby. ‘And moving in the week between Christmas and New Year won’t be much fun.’

  ‘I don’t care when it is. Having my own home is just about the best Christmas present I could have.’ Fran moved to the table. ‘So, where’s this receipt, then?’

  ‘Here.’ Libby handed it over. ‘I’ll get the tea.’

  When she came back into the sitting room with two mugs, she found Fran sitting at the table holding the piece of paper in her hand, her head bowed.

  ‘Fran?’ she said.

  Fran looked up. ‘I’m learning,’ she said.

  ‘How?’ Libby perched on the arm of the armchair.

  ‘I tried to focus properly on the piece of paper and let my mind go blank. You know I’ve told you most things just appear in my head as if I’ve known them all along?’

  Libby nodded.

  ‘Well, I’ve realised that if I concentrate, I can do it to order. Sometimes, anyway.’

  ‘OK,’ said Libby, ‘but don’t keep me in suspense. What can you see?’

  ‘I can’t “see” anything, but I know that this is a receipt given to Dorinda for something very important, something that upset her.’

  ‘The diamond necklace?’

  ‘No, it’s something to do with a person.’

  ‘But it says “goods”,’ said Libby.

  Fran shook her head. ‘I’m going to ask Ian about the birth certificate they found in Dorothy’s house. That’s where I found out that his name was Earnest.’

  ‘Do you think Albert’s name will be on his certificate?’

  ‘This is dated 1904. He’s hardly likely to have been Laurence’s father in 1946, is he?’

  ‘I did think that,’ agreed Libby. ‘I thought grandfather.’

  ‘Yes, that makes sense. I just thought perhaps we could look up Laurence’s father and go from there.’

  ‘Will you ring Connell now?’ said Libby.

  Fran looked at her watch. ‘Isn’t it a bit late?’

  ‘Policemen don’t keep office hours, do they?’

  Fran took out her mobile.

  Libby went over to the sofa, where Sidney still loomed on the back, while Balzac sat under the armchair.

  Fran was put straight through to Inspector Connell, to her surprise.

  ‘We’re ahead of you,’ he said, ‘although I don’t know where it’s got us.’

  ‘What do you mean, you’re ahead of us?’ said Fran. ‘You’ve looked up the parents on the birth certificate?’

  ‘Yes. Hang on a minute.’ She heard him shuffling papers. ‘Here we are. Father, Colin Cooper, mother Shirley.’

  ‘Yes, we knew that, we saw it in Richmond, but did you go back any further?’

  ‘What for? The murder wasn’t done by a ghost.’

  ‘No, but you were looking for a connection to Bella Morleigh. If Laurence’s grandfather had known Bella’s grandmother, perhaps that’s the connection.’

  ‘And you think they did?’

  ‘Oh, I know they did,’ said Fran.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Libby found a receipt made out to Dorinda by an Albert Cooper.’

  There was a moment’s silence.

  ‘How do you know Albert Cooper is anything to do with Laurence? Cooper’s a very common name.’ Connell sounded irritable.

  ‘Isn’t it worth checking?’ asked Fran. ‘Have you got any other leads.’

  ‘Several,’ said Connell sharply. ‘But yes, I’ll get someone to check it. Not that it’ll get us any further.’

  ‘Colin Cooper,’ Fran told Libby when she’d finished the call. ‘He was Laurence’s father, and he was in the army. I told you that before. Ian’s going to look up his parents.’

  ‘Blimey!’ said Libby. ‘You have got influence. I wonder how long that’ll take?’

  Fran stood up and went to the armchair, scooping Balzac from underneath it on to her lap. ‘No idea,’ she said. ‘And I’m getting very fed up with the whole thing. I’ve a good mind to tell Bella we can’t find anything else and wash my hands of it.’

  Libby nodded. ‘You’ve done what you were asked to do. We could just relax and forget it.’

  Fran raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh yes?’ she said. ‘That’s what you were doing this afternoon, is it? Once you’ve got your teeth into something you never let go.’

  Libby felt herself going pink. ‘Oh, all right, I’m nosy. And it is interesting, you’ve got to admit.’

  ‘I know, but I’d just as soon forget it now. Except when things pop into my head like they did yesterday. But perhaps I could learn to suppress them, just as I’m learning to focus on them?’

  Libby looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think you’d have that much control.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘Well, let’s forget it now,’ said Libby. ‘We’ve got panto, moving, wedding – all sorts. Unless something else turns up, we needn’t even think about it.’

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  THE THURSDAY NIGHT REHEARSAL was the last before Christmas, and Libby had persuaded Peter, who was the nominal licensee, to open the bar. To her surprise, one of the first people to arrive was Edna.

  ‘I’m so pleased to see you,’ said Libby, going forward to take her hand. ‘Did you persuade your brother to come and stay with you after all?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ said Edna, ‘and I’m so grateful you suggested it.’

  ‘Well, it was Flo and Lenny, really,’ said Libby. ‘And will you come into the chorus?’

  ‘I’d love to, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’ Edna was quite pink in the face, although not the alarming colour she had been when Libby last spoke to her. ‘I was really finding the Fairy too much, you know, but I did love being part of it all.’

  That’s great,’ said Libby. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to find you a costume.’

  She watched as Edna moved across to join some of the other members of the cast, who were obviously happy to see her.

  ‘There,’ said Ben, coming up behind her. ‘You’ve done your good deed. Pleased?’

  ‘Yes, very.’ Libby turned and planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘And now we’d better get started.’

  The rehearsal went as well as could be expected, after which Libby gritted her teeth and stood everyone a round of drinks, and Christmas cards were exchanged. Edna went off happily to Maltby Close, the rest of the cast and crew dispersed and Peter invited Ben, Libby and Fran back to have a last “single” drink with him and Harry.

  ‘Do I have to do anything special?’ Libby asked, as she accepted a glass of champagne. ‘On the day, I mean.’

  Harry gave her a look. ‘Apart from holding the rings and the speech, you mean?’

  ‘Speech?’ Libby’s voice rose in a screech. ‘You never said anything about a speech!’

  ‘Stop it, Hal,’ said Peter, giving his beloved a poke in the ribs. ‘He’s winding you up, Lib. Unless you’d like to do a speech, of course.’

  Libby glowered at the
m both and took a reviving swallow of champagne.

  ‘We go in and talk to the registrar first,’ said Harry, ‘then you’re all called in. You come and stand just behind us to the right and hand over the jewellery when commanded.’

  ‘And that’s all?’

  ‘And that’s all. Nothing mawkish.’

  ‘No words of abiding love, then?’ said Ben.

  Peter made a face. ‘No.’

  ‘Tell you what, though,’ said Harry. ‘We’d like Lib to come here and go with us in the car.’

  Ben and Libby looked at one another, surprised.

  ‘Really?’ said Libby.

  ‘In case we forget something or turn chicken,’ said Peter, grinning at Harry.

  ‘OK,’ said Libby, pleased. ‘But I’ll get a taxi. I’m not walking the streets of Steeple Martin in my finery.’

  ‘I’ll drop you off,’ said Ben, amused. ‘It means you’ll have to get ready earlier than you intended, though.’

  ‘I can manage that,’ said Libby. ‘Thanks for asking me.’

  ‘Best woman’s got to be good for something,’ said Harry.

  Ben and Libby saw Fran to her door. ‘I phoned Bella this evening,’ she said, ‘to bring her up to date.’

  ‘Did you tell her about Edna’s brother?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Of course, as it looks as though he might be able to identify the murderer.’

  ‘If it is the murderer,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh, it is,’ said Fran. ‘Quite definitely.’

  ‘And you said there wasn’t any more we could do?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fran. ‘I don’t think she minded. She said she’d be down in the New Year and would collect everything from us then.’

  Ben and Libby walked slowly back to Allhallow’s Lane.

  ‘What are you going to do tomorrow?’ asked Ben, as Libby went to put the kettle on the Rayburn.

  ‘I’m waiting in for my supermarket delivery, then I’m having my hair done. Then I suppose I’ll do whatever I can to get things ready for the kids arriving on Sunday.’

  ‘You won’t want me around, then,’ said Ben. ‘What about tomorrow evening?’

  ‘I hadn’t planned anything,’ said Libby, carrying two mugs through to the sitting room.

  ‘Come up to The Manor and I’ll cook you supper.’

  ‘Won’t you be in Hetty’s way?’

  ‘Not if we eat later than six,’ grinned Ben. ‘She’ll be in front of the TV by then.’

  ‘All right,’ said Libby. ‘I’d like that. Will you see me home afterwards?’

  ‘Try and stop me,’ said Ben, removing the mug from her hand.

  Ben had cooked a very respectable beef in red wine casserole for Friday evening’s supper, which they ate in the kitchen. Hetty looked in from time to time, to Libby’s amusement.

  ‘She still can’t understand why you won’t move in,’ said Ben after the third little visit.

  ‘It’s not going to help if she keeps coming in to keep an eye on us, is it?’ said Libby.

  ‘She’s hoping to persuade you with her chumminess,’ said Ben, with a grin.

  ‘Oh, is that what it is,’ said Libby, grinning back. ‘Well, she’s not going to persuade me. I like my little house.’

  ‘Would you move in with me if I bought a house of my own?’ Ben sent her a considering look.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ said Libby in surprise. ‘I thought you moved back here to take over the management of the estate.’

  ‘I did. Once I’d given up the business it seemed like a good idea. Dad isn’t fit enough and Mum’s getting on. But they don’t necessarily need me in the house, do they?’

  ‘Well, no.’ Libby looked thoughtful. ‘But my house isn’t big enough …’

  ‘I didn’t say anything about moving in with you, did I? Although I seem to be there more than here at the moment.’

  ‘And it’s working, isn’t it?’ said Libby. ‘If it ain’t broke –’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Ben, standing up. ‘Pud?’

  Saturday morning found Libby unexpectedly nervous. ‘Why?’ said Ben, as he poured tea at the kitchen table, fending off Balzac and Sidney, who had tacitly agreed to ignore one another in peace.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘I just don’t want to do anything wrong and spoil it for them.’

  ‘You’ve only got to hand them the rings,’ said Ben. ‘Now, drink your tea and go and have your bath. I’m going home to get m’lady’s transport.’

  Dressed in her new wedding outfit, her hair pinned up as the hairdresser had shown her, Libby surveyed herself in the landing mirror. It didn’t look like her, she decided, although the slimming effect of the dress was quite pleasing. Ben, coming up the stairs behind her, was obviously impressed.

  ‘Everyone will think you’re the bride,’ he said, kissing the back of her neck.

  ‘Oh, God, don’t!’ Libby turned to face him, nearly tipping them both down the stairs. ‘I’m not going to upstage them, am I?’

  Ben laughed. ‘I doubt if you could upstage Harry,’ he said. ‘Come on, time to get round there and soothe the savage beasts.’

  ‘I thought it was breasts,’ said Libby.

  ‘Not in this case,’ said Ben, handing her bag. She took it and wrinkled her nose. ‘Why couldn’t I use my basket?’ she said.

  ‘Doesn’t go with the outfit. Stop complaining,’ said Ben, holding the front door open and stopping escaping cats with a foot.

  The atmosphere in Peter and Harry’s cottage was surprisingly calm. They were both dressed and offered Libby a glass of champagne as soon as she set foot inside the door.

  ‘Only one, though,’ said Peter. ‘We don’t want to be smashed before we get there.’

  ‘So is there anything for me to do?’ asked Libby, taking a grateful sip.

  ‘Keep us calm,’ said Harry, with a grin. ‘Or should it be the other way round?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t know why I’m nervous, though.’

  ‘Fear of the unknown,’ said Peter. ‘Civil partnerships aren’t exactly the norm, yet, are they?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Libby looked into her glass. ‘I’m very proud to be part of yours.’

  She received a kiss on each cheek for this statement, and the emotional level went up a notch or two.

  ‘Quick, have a fag,’ said Harry, offering a packet. ‘No outbursts yet.’

  ‘I’m trying to give up,’ said Libby, taking one, nevertheless. ‘I’m down to one or two a day, now.’

  ‘Good girl,’ said Peter, ‘but not today. Wait until after Christmas.’

  The car arrived shortly afterwards, and Libby sat in front with the driver. She was surprised at how many villagers waved at their procession through the High Street, and reflected that prejudice seemed to be far less rampant than it had been only a few years ago. Peter and Harry had fallen silent, and peering over her shoulder, she smiled to see them holding hands and gazing at each other.

  Most of the guests were waiting on the steps of Anderson Place as they drew up. Libby felt like a handmaiden to royalty as she followed Peter and Harry into the reception hall and watched them go into the ante-room with the celebrant, a small, round man with a jolly, smiling face, who looked as though he’d be more at home in a red suit with white whiskers. The guests crowded round her.

  ‘They look very calm,’ said Fran, resplendent in peacock blue.

  ‘They are. Much calmer than I am,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t know why they needed me at all.’

  ‘Have you got the rings?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Here.’ Libby patted her small bag. ‘I hope I don’t drop them.’

  But there were no disasters. Peter and Harry emerged from the ante-room, and, according to their wishes, the guests took their places in the large room Libby had seen before, then the celebrant led them in, with Libby following behind. She stood to Harry’s right as the service began, surreptitiously feeling inside her bag for the rings and a tissue. Which, she disc
overed, as she sat down next to Ben after handing over the rings, was just as well, as the script which the couple had settled on with their celebrant was intensely moving. Both tall and blond, their black coats and grey trousers emphasising their height and physiques, they made an impressive picture, and at the end, when Peter kissed Harry’s hand and then his cheek, the room was filled with a fluttering of sighs and sniffs, before the spontaneous applause broke out.

  Libby and James left their seats to stand beside the table where the register was signed, and added their signatures under a positive lightning storm of camera flashes. Then it was off to the garden room under the watchful eye of Melanie, who Libby saw had attended the ceremony in formal black, not a trace of unusual colour in her hair. She winked as Libby passed her.

  ‘What do you think of the floral decorations?’ she whispered.

  ‘Just right,’ said Libby. ‘Thanks for all your trouble.’

  ‘It’s my job,’ said Melanie, ‘but these two are just dreams, aren’t they? What a waste for the female population.’

  ‘Oh, yes. But they make great friends.’

  ‘I can see that,’ said Mel. ‘Now you’d better hurry, or you’ll miss the receiving line.’ She made to go, then turned back. ‘Oh, and Sir Jonathan’s going to look in. He said he’d found something that might interest you.’

  ‘Oh, how kind of him,’ said Libby. ‘Did he say when?’

  ‘No, just that he’d be in sometime. He doesn’t want to intrude.’

  ‘I’m sure Pete and Hal will be delighted to see him,’ said Libby, and followed the crowd towards the garden room.

  The champagne flowed, the buffet, overseen by a rather subdued Danny, was decimated rather more quickly than anyone had anticipated, and the speeches were short and witty. Peter and Harry paid tribute to their friends and families, or family, Libby supposed, as none of Harry’s were there, and she was surprised and pleased to see Peter’s mother, mad Millie, sitting between James and Hetty. Looking bewildered, it had to be said, but there, nevertheless.