Libby smiled. ‘You wouldn’t believe us if we told you,’ she said. ‘Are we ready for lunch, yet, Fran?’
‘We’ve only just had ice cream. Don’t think I could manage anything right now.’
‘Right.’ Libby sat down gloomily at one of the little tables and stared out to sea.
George looked from one to the other and heaved himself to his feet. ‘Go on, Bert,’ he said. ‘Go and ask Mavis for the lunch. Come on, you two pesky females.’
‘What?’ said Libby and Fran together.
‘You need a bit of a blow. Lost a pound and found sixpence, the pair of you. Us’ll just have a little trip round the island, shall us?’
Libby beamed. ‘Oh, George, how lovely! I’d love that.’
‘So would I.’ Fran stood up. ‘Thank you George. How did you know we were fed up?’
‘Wouldn’t make no actresses, you two. ‘Sides, I bet it’s some old murder you’ve got yourselves into. Make anybody narky, that do.’
Bert returned with a basket of baguettes, the lunch he and George usually served to passengers on their trips, and they moved down the jetty to the Dolphin. Five minutes later, they were chugging towards Dragon Island, Bert and George huddled over the wheel together, Libby and Fran sitting in the stern, the breeze and spray in their faces.
‘That’s better,’ said Libby. ‘George was right. We needed a blow.’
‘I just hope we don’t get a call from Ian or Nick while we’re out here,’ said Fran. ‘It’d spoil it.’
‘We won’t,’ said Libby, confidently. ‘Neither of them would get back to us that quickly.’
So George piloted them round the lighthouse headland, where they stopped to eat their baguettes, then back across the bay and round the back of Dragon Island. And, as George turned to approach the jetty, Libby’s phone rang.
Chapter Thirty-eight
‘I’VE JUST HAD A call from Nick Forrest,’ said Ian. ‘I gather you told him to call me.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t know exactly what about.’ Libby watched as George climbed ashore to tie the Dolphin up, and hoped he wasn’t going to make her get off in the middle of the phone call.
‘You’re going to have to explain that. Carry on – I’ve got five minutes.’
‘Right.’ Libby looked at Fran and made a face. ‘Well, we were doing what you asked us to, and we sort of added on a question. We asked them what the real reason was for the weekend, as they didn’t seem to be all that friendly with each other. And it’s turned out that they all knew far more about Melanie and Patrick than they let on. They all seemed very surprised about Melanie having written the books, but as though they were expecting something else.’
‘Hmm,’ said Ian. ‘And what about Ben’s idea you were talking about earlier?’
‘Ben’s – oh, yes. He said why couldn’t Melanie have gone to someone else’s place, been killed there and transported down. If you see what I mean.’
‘I see what you mean. It is actually something we’d thought of.’
‘Oh, right. So,’ said Libby hesitantly, ‘what did Nick say?’
‘I can’t tell you that,’ said Ian, ‘but he probably will, despite being warned not to talk about it.’
‘And did it help?’
‘I think so. And now I’m going to have to go and solve a murder. I’ll probably speak to you later.’
Bert was waiting to help them off the Dolphin, and Libby and Fran thanked him and George profusely.
‘Just what we needed,’ said Fran.
‘We owe you a pint,’ said Libby. ‘In fact, would you like one now?’ She waved a hand towards The Sloop, the pub at the end of the jetty.
‘Might have to go out again later,’ said George. ‘Better not. We’ll keep you to it, though.’
‘So, what did he say?’ asked Fran, as they walked back towards Coastguard Cottage.
‘Not a lot, really. Nick called him, but he wouldn’t say what about.’
‘Is it worth calling Nick back?’
‘Well, he did say he would tell me, and Ian thought he would, too. Must say, I’m intrigued now.’
‘And what about Dee?’
Libby shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘Well, we’ve no one left to ring, so what do we do now?’
‘Not much we can do until we go to Rosie’s this evening to talk to Nina. Did she say what time?’
‘No. I’ll give her another ring.’
‘And I’ll ring Nick again.’ Libby perched on the little sea wall and took out her mobile.
‘You said you’d ring me,’ she said when Nick answered.
‘Yes. Hang on a minute.’ There was the sound of voices and a door slamming. ‘That’s better. I know I said I’d tell you, but your inspector said I shouldn’t talk about it.’
‘And he’s just phoned me and told me you’d tell me.’
‘If you’re sure …’ Nick sounded doubtful.
‘I’m sure.’
‘Right.’ Libby heard a deep sigh. ‘It was when you said that Jennifer had written that book.’
‘What was?’
‘What made me stop and think. You see, she was the only one we didn’t know about.’
‘Nick, you’re not making sense. Who didn’t know about her?’
‘All of us.’
‘All of you? You mean the group at the Manor?’
‘Yes. Except Jennifer, and, of course, Patrick.’
‘This is about the real reason behind the weekend, is it?’
‘You said you knew there must be another reason.’
‘We did. And now you’re going to tell me. Start at the beginning.’
‘The beginning,’ said Nick. ‘Difficult to know where that was.’
‘The writers’ holiday last year?’
‘Actually before that. Several of us had met at writers’ days and the odd conference. And we all knew Patrick.’
‘Knew – what, before the holiday?’
‘All of us at one time or another had submitted work to him before an event. It was one of his particular selling points. But last year we did it deliberately.’
‘Explain.’
‘Over the last few years several of us had recognised our own work in Patrick’s published books. The whole plot, and even, sometimes, whole chunks of text.’
‘Good God!’ said Libby. ‘So why hadn’t you challenged him?’
‘Daniel did. A couple of years ago. Patrick more or less said he hadn’t done it deliberately, and these idea were always floating round in the ether. And then Bernice tried. Hers was a bit trickier, because her story had been more women’s fiction, and it had been turned into crime, but there were chunks of text in there. She got the same answer. We all chose his workshop at the holiday and submitted synopses that would appeal to Patrick and sat back to see what happened. But it seemed to have backfired.’
‘Why was that?’ asked Libby.
‘There wasn’t a book. He said it was due to be published this September. Actually, that’s right – it’s already up for pre-order online.’
‘Meanwhile, of course, Melanie had been pinching Jennifer’s. She hardly had any work to do, as it was already written.’
‘And she’d been doing that for the last few years with all of us.’ Nick swore under his breath, but Libby heard.
‘So what was the point of this weekend? Mass retribution?’
‘Something like that, but we hadn’t got the book we expected to be out. But we all took our original work, and we all had copies of the books that had been based on them. I say all, it wasn’t all of us, and there were a couple of other people outside our group who were affected.’
‘How many? There can’t have been that many over the few years Melanie’s been writing them.’
‘That’s the thing – he suddenly became more prolific, doing two books a year. No wonder.’
‘And why didn’t you include Jennifer?’
‘Because no one had ever met her before. She was a newcomer. We
couldn’t understand why she was there. We know now, of course.’
‘And this is what you told DCI Connell?’ said Libby.
‘Yes – after I’d talked to Paul. He was one of the ones affected.’
‘Who were the others?’
‘Daniel, Bernice, Dee and Nina.’
‘Nina?’
‘She was the most upset of the lot,’ said Nick.
‘I didn’t think she’d actually written a novel,’ said Libby.
‘No – you see, that’s the point. Most of us were only submitting ten pages, or a chapter, or five thousand words, but also a detailed synopsis. So Patrick could – and did – argue that it could hardly be plagiarism if he’d written the whole book after that. It was stealing the ideas that was so unpleasant. But there’s no legislation for that.’
‘What about Lily? Surely she wouldn’t have slept with him if she knew about all this?’
‘Oh, she knew, but she didn’t care. She’s been following him around the circuit for years, so she’d heard all the gossip. She was useful, because he had no suspicion of anything else being on the agenda if she was organising things. He knew she was just after sex, and that suited him fine. Mind you, he tried it on with everyone else, too.’
‘Managed it with Dee. Oh –’ Libby broke off.
‘Yes. That was a bit … Didn’t understand it myself. Paul said Dee was trying to get him to admit it by using sex.’
Libby thought about it for a bit. ‘So why didn’t any of you tell the police about this after Melanie’s body was found?’
‘We didn’t even know it was Melanie, did we? Then when we found out we decided it would only complicate matters, as it couldn’t be anything to do with us. It must have been someone from another part of her – or their – life. Or Patrick himself.’
‘Yes.’
‘But now …’ he stopped.
‘Yes, now it looks as though it might have something to do with one of you,’ said Libby.
‘I still don’t see how, if none of us knew Melanie was writing Patrick’s books.’
Libby sighed. ‘And I don’t see that there’s a motive for murder in there, frankly. I mean, I can see how peeved you’d be if someone had stolen your work, and I can see how you might want to get your own back somehow, or at least get an acknowledgement, but murder?’
‘I know. And I’m sorry if we’ve made life more complicated for the police, but I really don’t think any of us seriously thought we could be involved. And then you two started –’
‘Sniffing around, I know,’ said Libby. ‘Well, I think our job here is done. Thanks for telling us, Nick. I hardly think we need to talk to Nina now.’
‘No, I wouldn’t. She was very upset about it all. She wouldn’t want reminding.’
Libby switched off the phone and turned to see Fran staring at her.
‘Did you get any of that?’ she asked.
‘Not much,’ said Fran, ‘except that it was a bit – what? Startling.’
Libby slid off the wall and they began to walk back to Coastguard Cottage as she explained.
‘You’re right,’ said Fran when Libby finally came to a halt. ‘It doesn’t actually explain the murder, nor is it a real motive. And what about Dee?”
‘I think she must have found out about Melanie writing the books. That’s what she must have wanted to tell Ian.’
‘But that wouldn’t be enough to kill her for,’ said Fran.
‘It might if you were Melanie’s killer.’
‘Do you think they’ve all been in touch with each other while we’ve been traipsing round talking to them all?’ said Fran, unlocking her front door.
‘Who was it said that people seemed to have left the group? I bet that’s because they thought they ought to keep a low profile. And I bet Daniel won’t have spoken to anybody.’ Libby followed Fran inside and dumped her bag on the floor. ‘Cor, what a day.’
Fran’s landline began to ring.
‘Rosie, hi,’ said Fran. Libby watched as Fran’s expression turned to a puzzled frown.
‘OK, I’ll get back to you,’ she said and put down the phone.
‘Apparently, Rosie called Nina to warn her we were going to call later, and the woman who answered said she’d gone away to visit friends for a few days. And offered the opinion that it might be the woman who stayed with her a couple of weeks ago.’
‘Melanie?’ gasped Libby.
‘That is quite a huge leap,’ said Fran, ‘and “a couple of weeks ago” could mean anything, not right at the time of the conference.’
‘But it is a coincidence. Where does she live? Swindon?’
‘Reading.’
‘Oh, bother. Not London, then.’
‘Dee’s in London.’
‘But she’s dead,’ said Libby. ‘Anyway, come to think of it, what’s London got to do with anything?’
‘I’m not sure. Think we went off the rails a bit there.’
‘It was Ben’s idea last night, and me saying even London. We were thinking if she’d gone to stay in the flat Patrick could have brought her down. Or Dee could.’
‘But she could have gone anywhere,’ said Fran.
‘Or nowhere. The original idea of the murderer picking her up at home might be right.’
‘Or even of Lily or Jennifer bumping her off out of jealousy.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Libby. ‘Perhaps we need tea.’
While Fran was making tea, Libby’s phone rang again.
‘Libby, have you spoken to everybody now?’
‘Except Paul Fisher and Nina, yes. But Nick spoke to Paul. What’s up, Ian?’
‘We need to establish the whole group’s whereabouts for the day before yesterday.’
‘Well, that lets Jennifer, Patrick and Nick out. We know where they were,’ said Libby. ‘Don’t know about any of the others. Is that when Dee was killed?’
‘That’s when the phone was switched off, and that’s the last time you heard from her, so we assume so.’
‘And did she live alone? For some reason we assumed she was married.’
‘She was.’
‘Oh! So when did her husband last see her? Was he away?’
‘We didn’t find her at home, Lib. In fact, we didn’t find her at all. Jennifer Alderton did. On Bonny Henge.’
Chapter Thirty-nine
‘BONNY HENGE?’ GASPED LIBBY. Fran came out of the kitchen and stared at her.
‘Yes. So it doesn’t let anyone out.’ Ian gave an exasperated sigh.
‘We’re hoping to speak to young Nina later, if we can find her mobile number, because she’s away visiting friends, apparently. Do you want us to say something to her? Oh, God.’
‘What?’
‘Suppose Nina’s been – well, we couldn’t get hold of Dee. Now we can’t get hold of Nina –’ Libby tried to control the rising panic in her voice.
‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Lib,’ said Ian gently. ‘Don’t worry about trying to get hold of Nina. We’ll do that if we need to. But you can’t be sure of anyone’s actual whereabouts on Tuesday evening?’
‘Only Nick’s, and you know that yourself. But Bonny Henge? Right under your nose? And we were there on Wednesday.’ Libby shuddered. ‘Oh, this is awful.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Lib. Tell Fran, of course, and when we’ve sorted it all out I’ll let you know.’
Libby switched off the phone.
‘Dee was found on Bonny Henge,’ said Fran.
‘How did you know?’ Libby’s eyes opened wide in surprise.
‘It was fairly obvious from your side of the conversation. So what does Ian want us to do now?’
‘Nothing. He just said to tell you.’ Libby took a deep breath. ‘Jennifer found her.’
‘Sit down,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll make the tea.’
‘I’m going out into the garden to have a fag,’ said Libby. ‘If you don’t mind, that is.’
‘Of course not. Go on.’ Fran stood aside to let Libby past.
>
‘I think,’ she said a few minutes later, coming out with two mugs, ‘we’ve had enough shocks today. Now we don’t have to speak to Nina, I think we should settle for going back to the bosom of our families and forget the whole thing.’
‘Forget it? I don’t see how. And Melanie was actually found at the Manor, so how can I ever forget it?’ Libby shook her head. ‘No, I’ll have to live with this one. But we’re not going to do any more writers’ weekends. The odd painting one, maybe. But no more writers.’
‘Writers aren’t all like this lot, Lib.’ Fran pushed a mug across the table. ‘Rosie says she’s never met a bunch like this, and most conferences are completely different. And she’s never heard of this sort of plagiarism anywhere else.’
‘Still, you can’t plagiarise a painting, can you?’ said Libby.
‘No, but art forgers can copy them,’ said Fran with a grin. ‘Guy’s done a couple of copies in the past. Not for criminal reasons, but for TV and film.’
‘Really?’ Libby was interested and diverted. ‘I never knew that. How did that work?’
‘TV adaptations or biopics of real people, where their portraits were used.’
Libby nodded. ‘Perhaps we could do a weekend on copying.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, it’s no good. I can’t think about anything else except Dee now, poor cow.’ She drank some tea and pushed it aside. ‘I’m going home, Fran. You were right about family bosoms.’
‘Are you all right to drive?’ asked Fran. ‘You don’t look it.’
Libby stood up and smiled shakily. ‘I don’t know why it’s affected me so much. Look at you, you’re all right. Well, shocked, of course, but you haven’t gone all wobbly. But I can drive. And I promise I’ll let myself be looked after.’
All the same she took the drive from Nethergate to Steeple Martin very carefully. When she got to the village, instead of going on to Allhallow’s Lane, she turned left into the Manor Drive intending to put part of her plan into action by letting Hetty look after her until Ben could take over.
To her annoyance, however, there were cars parked in front of the house. Frowning, Libby climbed out of the Renault and went into the house. She hesitated in the hall, trying to decide whether to go to the estate office in search of Ben, or the kitchen to see Hetty. Hearing Ben’s voice coming from the kitchen, she turned left.
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