‘Well, he got that wrong, didn’t he?’ said Libby. ‘Did you get through, Fran?’
‘I spoke to Constable Maiden. He’ll get through to Ian and presumably he’ll phone here.’
‘I ought to get back to the hospital,’ said Jane.
‘You haven’t had enough sleep yet,’ said Libby, ‘and I refuse to drive you until you have. We’ll wake you when we hear from Inspector Connell.’
‘Well,’ said Fran, when Jane had been persuaded back up the stairs. ‘What about that.’
‘You got nearly all of it right,’ said Libby.
‘Except the killer. We still don’t know who that is,’ Fran sighed.
‘It’s got to be one of the Italian family,’ said Libby.
‘Or someone they’ve hired.’
‘To get close to Jane again?’
They looked at each other in horror.
‘It can’t be Terry,’ said Libby in a small voice. ‘He’s been attacked twice.’
‘And survived twice,’ said Fran grimly.
‘But what about the first time? They said he’d been attacked in the hall first. They found blood.’
‘Easy enough to shed a bit of your own blood,’ said Fran. ‘And they never found the weapon, did they?’
‘Well, how on earth could he have concealed the weapon if he’d knocked himself out?’ said Libby.
‘How about a deliberate fall? That would have broken his ribs as well.’
‘He was in the army, wasn’t he?’ said Libby. ‘Grenadier Guards, Jane said.’
‘Suppose it was something else? Like the SAS?’ Fran looked out of the window and sighed again. ‘I think we’re out of our depth, Lib.’
‘Well, he’s safe enough in hospital at the moment,’ said Libby, ‘and Ian can take over now.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Fran leant back in the armchair and stretched. ‘This is all a bit draining, isn’t it?’
‘By the way,’ said Libby, ‘why did you shake your head at me when I said Ian could get into the MI5 records?’
‘Because I doubt if he could. Anything that’s going to be released already has been. They wouldn’t let anything else out unless it was of national importance. And I doubt if the murder of an illegal migrant worker is that.’
‘What do we do about Jane?’ said Libby, standing up and going on a cigarette hunt. ‘We can’t tell her what we think about Terry.’
‘No.’ Fran rubbed her temples. ‘I suppose we tell Ian and leave him to sort it out. God, I don’t want to think about what will happen when she finds out.’
‘You don’t suppose we’re wrong, do you?’ asked Libby, sitting back down with her cigarette. ‘It isn’t Terry?’
‘Who else?’ asked Fran. ‘He’s the only one who’s got close to Jane except you and me and the two old boat boys.’
‘And he would have known about Jane’s trips out with them,’ said Libby. ‘He’s the only one who would. Oh, dear.’
‘I wonder if he’s got an alibi for the night before the body was found,’ said Fran.
‘Whether he has or hasn’t,’ said Libby, ‘how would he have got a boat out from Nethergate with a body on it?’
‘It didn’t come from Nethergate,’ said Fran. ‘It came down the river to the estuary and round the coast.’
She sat up and looked as surprised as Libby did.
‘Well!’ said Libby. ‘And where did that come from?’
‘Where do you think?’ said Fran. ‘It’s nice to know it’s still working. Although whether Ian will give it any credence I don’t know.’
‘Even if he does, he can hardly order forensic examination on every boat within here and Tilbury,’ said Libby.
‘Docklands,’ said Fran.
‘Oh, right,’ said Libby. ‘Any more?’
‘St Katherine’s, I think,’ said Fran.
‘Good heavens, that’s a bit specific,’ said Libby.
‘It just looks like it,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll tell Ian.’
‘Well, it’ll narrow down the search,’ said Libby, ‘if that’s where it is now.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Fran. ‘I should think it’s been shipped off – oh, dear, didn’t mean that – somewhere else by now.’
Libby’s landline phone rang and made them both jump.
‘Mrs Sarjeant,’ said Ian Connell. ‘Is Mrs Castle there?’
‘Yes,’ said Libby, pulling a face at Fran. ‘I’ll hand you over.’
‘Why didn’t he ring your mobile?’ she whispered.
‘Because Constable Maiden said you were there,’ Ian, who had obviously heard, told Fran. ‘And I just thought before you tell me all the information you’ve wheedled out of Jane Maurice, you ought to know that we’ve got Terry Baker under guard at the hospital.’
Chapter Thirty-three
‘UNDER GUARD?’ GASPED FRAN.
Libby’s eyebrows shot up. As she watched, Fran’s expression changed from astonishment to puzzlement and finally, she looked up at Libby and just shook her head. Eventually, she spoke, telling Ian what Jane had told them and then ringing off.
‘Who’s under guard?’ said Libby immediately.
Fran laughed, a little hollowly. ‘Terry, would you believe.’
‘We were right!’ said Libby.
‘No, we weren’t. Apparently, from their own investigations, they decided Terry was in danger, so they’ve put a policeman on duty by his bed.’
Libby frowned. ‘You didn’t tell him what we thought about Terry.’
‘Well, no. If there’s policeman by his bed he’s hardly going to get away, is he?’
‘So what did Ian say about our news?’
‘He wants to see Jane as soon as possible. I said she was asleep – which I hope she is – so I’m afraid I volunteered us to take her into the police station.’
‘Why not here?’ asked Libby.
‘I didn’t ask him. He just said would I phone when we’re on the way.’
‘At some point she’s got to collect her car from the hospital,’ said Libby. ‘I just hope she didn’t park it in the car park. It’ll be clamped.’
‘Should we let her go back to see Terry?’ said Fran.
‘As you said, there is a policeman there.’
It was mid afternoon when Jane came downstairs, looking slightly better than she had earlier. Fran told her about Ian’s call.
‘But I wanted to get back to Terry,’ she said plaintively. Libby and Fran exchanged looks.
‘I think we ought to take you to the police station first,’ said Libby. ‘Then I’ll drive you back to Canterbury. Where did you park?’
Looking rather taken aback, Jane revealed that she had, indeed left her car in the car park.
‘I’m sure Ian will be able to do something about that,’ said Fran. We can ask him when we see him.’
After Libby had persuaded Jane to eat half a sandwich and drink half a cup of tea, Fran opted to take her back to Nethergate and then deliver her to the hospital. ‘You’ve done enough running around today,’ she said to Libby. ‘I’ll come back here after I’ve dropped Jane.’
Frustrated, Libby waved them off, but respected the fact that neither Jane nor Ian would want them both cluttering up the police station, and he would certainly not let them both into the interview room, even if he could be persuaded to let Fran in.
By the time Ben arrived at a quarter to six, as he usually did after going back to The Manor to change if he’d been out on the estate, Libby had still heard nothing.
‘I can’t go out, Ben,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to wait for Fran.’
Ben frowned. ‘She could be ages.’
‘That’s all right. I’ll cook us something, and we can have a drink here. Then when she arrives you can go off to the pub if you want to.’
‘Trying to get rid of me, are you?’ he said, sliding his arms around her waist.
Libby was just reassuring him that this was far from the case when her phone rang.
‘Fran,’ she told him,
switching off. ‘She’s on her way.’
‘We’ve got twenty minutes, then’ said Ben, a wicked look in his eye.
‘Yes,’ said Libby, giving him a push. ‘Twenty minutes for me to cook something quick.’
In fact, it only took ten minutes for Libby to serve up a stir-fry with noodles, of which she had made enough for Fran should she want it. She did.
‘I’m starving,’ she said, sliding in to a chair at the kitchen table. ‘Hello, Ben.’
‘Hi.’ He stood up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Look, I’ve finished, so I’ll nip down and see if I can get Pete to come for a drink. Join us later if you want to.’
‘Right,’ said Libby, pouring two glasses of wine. ‘Tell all.’
‘I shouldn’t really drink if I’ve got to drive,’ said Fran, eyeing the glass warily.
‘You’re eating with it, and you won’t be going yet,’ said Libby.
‘You’re right,’ said Fran, and took a healthy swallow. ‘That’s better.’
‘So what happened?’ said Libby, placing a laden plate on the table and sitting down again.
Between mouthfuls, Fran explained.
‘Ian wouldn’t let me into the interview room –’
‘I thought he wouldn’t,’ said Libby.
‘So I waited outside. They weren’t as long as I’d expected, and when they came out he asked if he could have a word with me, and asked me what I had thought of her story. I told him we’d sort of worked it out – well, some of it – and he grumbled a bit, then I told him what we’d thought about Terry. He didn’t like that at all. I asked if he could look into the Simon Madderling business, and he said that was very doubtful, so I asked him about the boat. As you can imagine, he was very dismissive of that, but once I’d reminded him of a few things, he said he would look into it. I don’t know how well he’ll look into it, but it’s a start.’
‘So then you took Jane back to the hospital?’
‘No, she wanted to have a shower and change, which was fair enough, so I took her back to Peel House. She was scared, though. She insisted I stayed with her. I was going to pop down and tell Guy what was going on, but in the end I just phoned him.’
‘What exactly is she scared of?’
‘Someone attacking her in the house. I went down to see Mike while she was in the shower and put him in the picture –’
‘What? You told him everything?’
‘No, silly. Just that she was going back to the hospital and she and the police were worried about another attack. He said he’d go down and check on Mrs Finch and keep an eye on things.’
‘Nice of him,’ said Libby, ‘especially as he’s been a victim as well. How is he?’
‘Oh, back to normal, he said. Just a bit sore.’
‘So then you went back to the hospital?’
‘Yes. And I told Ian about the car, and bless him, he’d sorted it all out, and when we got to the car park it had a big “Police Aware” notice on it.’
‘Did you go up to the ward with her?’
‘Yes. I said I’d like to say hello if he was awake.
‘And was he?’ asked Libby.
‘Yes, he was. Delighted, as far as you could tell, to see Jane, and quite pleased to see me. Not saying much.’ Fran sighed. ‘I must say, I don’t like to think of him being a villain.’
‘Neither do I.’ They sat in silence for a while and Fran finished her meal.
‘What do we do now?’ said Libby, as she cleared plates into the sink.
‘Wash up?’ suggested Fran.
Libby poked her tongue out. ‘No, what do we do about Jane. And everything else.’
Fran shrugged and led the way into the sitting room. ‘Nothing. We’ve told Ian everything we know, or rather, Jane has, so it’s up to him. I suppose we provide support for her, which she’s going to need.’
Libby sighed. ‘Oh, God, I suppose so. Nasty.’ She looked at the clock. ‘Are you going to come for a drink? Or would you like a cup of coffee here?’
‘Cup of coffee, then I’ll go home. I’ve been out since lunchtime, after all.’
Libby had just provided her with a mug of coffee when Fran’s phone rang.
‘Oh, Bruce. Hello,’ she said and made a face at Libby. ‘No, I’m not at home, I’m sorry. Pity.’
Libby giggled.
‘Sorry – what was that?’ said Fran, frowning. ‘You did – what? Where?’ She looked at Libby and mouthed something. Libby shrugged and shook her head.
‘OK, Bruce,’ Fran went on. ‘Well, good luck with it. Yes. Love to Cass – I mean Chrissie.’ She rang off. ‘You’ll never guess what,’ she said to Libby.
‘No,’ said Libby. ‘I’m not a lip-reader.’
‘Bruce has seen his Italian businessman again – in Nethergate.’
Chapter Thirty-four
‘PIETRO?’ SAID LIBBY. ‘IN Nethergate?’
‘We don’t know it’s Pietro. We’re still jumping to conclusions.’ Fran stood up and began pacing, as far as Libby’s cluttered sitting room would allow.
‘Why did Bruce tell you?’
‘He’s in Nethergate and decided it would be handy if he could pop in and see me. I expect he hoped I’d feed him.’
‘He’s been in Nethergate a lot, hasn’t he?’ said Libby.
‘His firm have got a contract with someone there,’ said Fran, ‘I don’t think it’s another woman, Lib.’
‘Sorry,’ said Libby. ‘So where did he see Pietro this time?’
‘I wish you’d stop calling him that,’ said Fran. ‘It probably isn’t him.’
‘Well, where was he, anyway?’
‘In The Swan.’
‘The Swan? That’s a bit close to home,’ said Libby, looking worried.
‘Exactly. Do you think I should phone Mike?’
‘And tell him what?’ said Libby. ‘There’s a strange Italian businessman in The Swan who just might come up and try to break into Peel House? You were the one saying don’t jump to conclusions.’
‘I wish I could get a look at him,’ said Fran. ‘Then I’d know.’
‘If it was Pietro?’
‘No, if it was the killer.’
‘Well, why don’t we go down now?’ said Libby. ‘He might still be in The Swan. Did Bruce say he was still there?’
‘Yes. He said he was going over to speak to him. I wished him luck.’
‘Quick, ring him back!’ said Libby. ‘Find out what’s happening.’
But Bruce wasn’t answering his phone.
‘I hope he hasn’t been bashed over the head,’ said Fran gloomily.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ said Libby, grabbing her basket and stuffing her arms into a long cardigan.
‘How are you going to get back?’ said Fran.
‘I’m driving. I’ve only had a glass and a half of wine. I’m safe.’
Within minutes, after Libby had called Ben and told him where she was going, the little convoy was out on the road to Nethergate. As they drove past the turning to Steeple Mount, Libby couldn’t resist a swift glance into the darkness on her right, where she knew, beyond the trees, stood Tyne Hall, now closed and boarded up, but once the scene of some very unpleasant, not to say murderous, deeds. She shivered and hoped she and Fran weren’t driving headlong into more of the same.
The wound down the hill into Nethergate, through the square and into Harbour Street, where they both parked.
‘The Swan?’ said Libby.
‘I’ll just go in and tell Guy where we’re going,’ said Fran. ‘I promised I’d call him.’
Guy offered to come with them, but Fran thought a third party in their rather haphazard exploration would increase the embarrassment factor.
‘I’ll feel enough of a fool if we’re making a mull of this without Guy looking on,’ she confided to Libby as they walked along Harbour Street towards The Swan.
The Swan was busy, but neither Bruce nor an unknown Italian could be seen, either in the bar or the restaurant.
&nbs
p; ‘Mike’s just come in, though,’ said Libby, pointing to the door. ‘He might have seen Bruce.’
‘Not if he’s only just come in,’ said Fran. ‘Worth a try, though.’
‘No, I’ve been here a while,’ he said, when they joined him at the bar. ‘I eat here most evenings. Can I get you a drink?’
‘No thanks. I thought I saw you coming in, that’s why we asked,’ explained Libby.
‘I went outside to take a call,’ said Mike, raising his eyebrows. ‘Is it important?’
‘It’s like this,’ said Fran hastily. ‘You remember what I said when I saw you earlier? Well, we thought someone might be lurking around here.’
‘Lurking? In The Swan?’ He laughed. ‘How would I know if anyone was lurking? I only know the regulars who come in. Anybody could be a criminal as far as I know. What does this person look like?’
‘My son-in-law was in here,’ said Fran. ‘Tallish, brown hair, a little thinning on top.’
‘Take a look.’ Mike waved his hand. ‘Half the customers answer that description.’
‘But my son-in-law knew this person. He was an Italian businessman.’
‘And what did he look like?’ Mike’s eyes narrowed. Fran and Libby looked at each other.
‘Italian?’ said Libby helplessly.
Mike threw his head back and laughed. Fran went crimson, and even Libby felt a little hot under the collar. ‘I must say,’ he said, ‘you ladies have enlivened my stay in Nethergate.’
‘Glad to have been of service,’ said Libby and turned on her heel. ‘Come on, Fran.’
‘Hey, wait,’ said Mike, stopping her with a hand on her arm. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I checked on old Mrs Finch before I came out, just as I said I would, but young Jane isn’t home yet. I’ll check her out as soon as she gets there.’
‘She’s still at the hospital,’ said Fran. ‘Thanks, anyway.’
‘Berk,’ said Libby as soon as they got outside.
‘You must admit we appear a bit odd,’ said Fran with a sigh. ‘He must have been laughing up his sleeve every time we turned up.’
‘Except when he got bashed over the head,’ said Libby.
‘He probably blames us for that, too,’ said Fran. ‘Ah well.’ She set off back down Harbour Street, punching a number into her phone.
Murder by the Sea - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series Page 25