Murder in Bloom (11 page)

Libby smiled at the receiver and went back into the kitchen to make more sandwiches. If anyone had asked her, she couldn’t have said why she wanted to go back to Creekmarsh; all she knew was something was drawing her there. She paused, loaf in one hand, knife in the other. She wasn’t getting like Fran, was she? A shiver went through her and she shook herself.

But when she’d packed up her picnic and put on some make-up, she called Fran while she waited for Lewis and told her everything that had been happening.

‘Thoughts?’ she said when she finished and Fran had been silent for a long time.

‘It’s all a bit odd.’ Libby heard her take a breath. ‘I know I said I didn’t want to get involved, but I suppose I couldn’t come out and have a look, could I?’

‘Why not?’ Libby was conscious of relief. ‘Come out today. I’m going for lunch.’ She explained about the sandwiches.

‘I’ll come over about one, then, shall I? Then I can drive you home.’

‘Brilliant. See you later.’

Lewis was delighted to hear of Fran’s visit and promised a guided tour of the house and grounds.

‘I haven’t had that,’ said Libby indignantly.

‘For both of you, of course,’ said Lewis in surprise. ‘I was going to take you round today, anyway. The police seem to have gone now.’

Libby nodded absently and stared out of the windscreen. They were just passing the turning for Steeple Mount, and Libby could see the woods on the hill that masked Tyne Hall and its chapel. She shivered slightly.

‘What’s up?’ Lewis shot her a quick look. ‘You’re not cold?’

‘No.’ Libby pointed. ‘That’s where they used to hold Black Masses and where someone we knew was murdered. There’s a chapel behind those woods.’

‘Wow. You do see life round here, don’t you? What happened?’

‘Fran knows more about it than I do,’ said Libby. ‘Her aunt was murdered.’

‘Blimey,’ said Lewis, looking at her again and swerving.

‘Eyes on the road, Mr Osbourne-Walker,’ said Libby, who returned her attention to the scenery while she told him of her findings on the Internet.

Adam met them as they turned into the drive. Lewis opened the window.

‘Sorry, mate, nothing I could do about it,’ said Adam.

‘About what?’

‘That bloody Big Bertha. She’s in there now. With a search warrant.’

Chapter Eleven

WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD, LEWIS accelerated up the drive and came to a gravel-spraying halt. He disappeared inside leaving the car door open and Libby to her own devices. She climbed out slowly, clutching her basket as Adam caught up.

‘What’s going on, Ad?’

‘I don’t know, Ma. They turned up about twenty minutes ago. I tried Lewis’s mobile, but it was switched off.’

‘He was driving, that’s why,’ said Libby, remembering seeing the phone on the dashboard. ‘Yeah, I know. Anyway, I tried to stop them, but they had a warrant. That woman is a nightmare.’ ‘But why? They don’t think Lewis has any connection to the skeleton or Tony West’s death.’

‘No, but Tony West sold this place to Lewis. They must think there are traces of him or what’shis-name –’

‘Gerald Shepherd,’ put in Libby.

‘Yeah, him.’

‘But they must have already searched the house,’ said Libby, frowning. ‘When the skeleton was found.’

‘I don’t think they did,’ said Adam, shaking his head. ‘Remember, at first they didn’t think it was a recent body.’

‘Oh, yes, that reminds me, how old do they think it is?’ ‘I don’t know. When did Shepherd and the girl go

missing?’

‘About three years ago, I think,’ said Libby. ‘You still think it’s him?’

‘It would make sense, wouldn’t it?’

‘But they haven’t released anything about it?’ said Libby.

‘Don’t think so,’ said Adam.

‘What shall we do with this?’ asked Libby, waving her basket at him. ‘I suppose we can’t take it into the kitchen?’

‘Don’t see why not,’ said Adam, grinning. ‘Give us a chance to see what’s going on.’

Libby eyed him warily. ‘All right. Come on, then,’ she said, indicating that he should take the lead.

There appeared to be no one anywhere downstairs. Murmured voices could be heard from the solar, where Libby guessed Lewis was having to answer more of Superintendent Bertram’s questions. She unloaded sandwiches, cheese and fruit onto the kitchen table, and sat down.

‘I suppose now we wait,’ she said.

‘Yeah.’ Adam looked up at the ceiling. ‘Can’t really go poking upstairs, can we? And I ought to get back to the parterre. D’you want to come and see it?’

‘Not right now,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll wait for Lewis.’

And Big Bertha, she added mentally. Why she wanted to see her she couldn’t have said, but then again, she had curiosity programmed into her character, so thought her nearest and dearest, those very same nearest and dearest who fondly referred to her as ‘the bull in the china shop’.

She looked towards the kitchen door and felt her heart jump in shock. There was someone standing there.

The woman surveyed Libby as dispassionately as she might a cabbage on a vegetable stall. ‘And you are?’ she said in a voice like a cheese grater.

‘Libby Sarjeant,’ Libby said, and cleared her throat. ‘With a J. Who are you?’

The woman looked startled, as if she wasn’t used to being questioned. Or going unrecognised. Libby took in the slender, petite stature, the bright blonde hair, over made-up face and the too-short skirt of the black suit.

‘Superintendent Bertram, CID.’ The woman snapped it out and Libby’s mouth dropped open.
This
was Big Bertha? ‘What are you doing here?’ Bertram walked to the table and looked down at Libby from eyes heavy with eyeliner.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Libby pushed back her chair and stood up, all of five feet three inches, but able now to tower over Superintendent Bertram, who scowled up at her.

‘This is a crime scene.’

‘I thought the gardens were a crime scene, not the house.’ Libby wasn’t going to back down.

‘Why are you here?’ Bertram didn’t comment on Libby’s assumption, which made her quite sure she was right.

‘I’m a friend of Lewis Osbourne-Walker’s. He brought me here ten minutes ago when we learnt from my son that you had broken into his home while he was absent.’

Bertram looked furious. ‘We did not “break in”. We had a search warrant.’

‘Why?’

This time Bertram looked simply astonished. Before she could recover, Libby sat down again, happy to have had the upper hand, if only for a few minutes.

‘Ms Sarjeant,’ began Bertram.

‘Mrs,’ Libby corrected, and smiled. Bertram heaved a sigh.

‘Very well, Mrs,’ she said. ‘A search has to be carried out thoroughly on these premises and no unauthorised persons are allowed here.’

‘Authorised by whom?’ asked Libby pleasantly. ‘After all, it still belongs to Mr Osbourne-Walker. I know you’ve checked the legality of that, and as far as I can ascertain he isn’t a suspect. I have his authority to be here, and I don’t believe I need yours.’

Bertram’s eyes narrowed. ‘I know who you are,’ she said slowly.

‘Oh?’ said Libby, still smiling, but with a sinking feeling.

‘I believe you know DCI Murray?’ Bertram smiled; at least Libby thought it was a smile. ‘And DI Connell.’

‘Yes.’ Libby nodded, still pleasantly.

Bertram placed her hands on the table and leant forward. ‘Let me warn you, Mrs Sarjeant. You will not be allowed to get in my way or hamper this investigation, with or without psychic intervention.’

‘Oh, you’ve got that quite wrong,’ said Libby, keeping the smile fixed with difficulty. ‘I don’t do psychic intervention.’

Bertram straightened up, obviously puzzled.

‘No,’ said a voice behind her, ‘that’s me.’

Bertram whirled and Libby stood up again.

‘Fran!’ she said.

Fran came into the room and allowed herself to be hugged by Libby, while a scowling Bertram looked on.

‘This is Mrs Castle,’ said Libby. ‘She knows DCI Murray and DI Connell, too.’

Bertram bit her lip, still scowling. She looked from Libby to Fran and back again.

‘Just keep out of my way,’ she said, and stalked to the door brushing rudely against Fran as she went.

‘Wow,’ said Fran. ‘Who’s she?’

Libby explained, leading the way back to the table. ‘Would you like tea?’ she asked. ‘I think I know where everything is.’

‘Thanks,’ said Fran looking round the huge kitchen. ‘So this is Creekmarsh.’

Libby switched on the kettle and went to find milk in the stylish silver refrigerator.

‘This is Creekmarsh,’ she confirmed. ‘What do you think?’

Fran was silent for a moment. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said finally. ‘There’s a good deal of unhappiness here, isn’t there?’

‘Do you mean current unhappiness? Or sort of still-in-the-walls unhappiness?’ ‘Both.’ Fran was looking at the ceiling. ‘How old was Tony West?’ ‘Eh?’ Now it was Libby’s turn to look startled. ‘No idea. Why?’ ‘Oh, nothing.’ Fran shook her head. ‘Has that woman finished with your friend Lewis?’

‘I don’t know. She must have if she came down here. I suppose he’s upstairs overseeing the search.’

‘They do miss things, you know,’ said Fran, remembering her own visit to a murder scene eighteen months ago where she had uncovered evidence which at the time seemed irrelevant, but had eventually led to the solution of that and a previous murder.

‘You won’t be able to go over this place,’ warned Libby. ‘You saw what she was like.’

‘I know,’ said Fran serenely, ‘but it’s not being protected as a crime scene, is it? So Lewis will let me have a look.’

‘When they’ve gone, yes,’ said Libby. ‘I do hope they clean up after themselves.’

‘Oh, I expect they will. It isn’t as if they can just walk away with crime scene tape across the door, is it? Lewis is still living here.’

‘Will he much longer, do you think?’ mused Libby, as they heard hurrying steps on the stairs.

‘Lewis.’ Libby went to him and put a hand on his arm. ‘Come and meet Fran Castle.’

Fran stood up and shook hands. Lewis looked grey and dishevelled.

‘What have they been doing to you?’ asked Libby, handing a mug to Fran, then pouring one, unasked, for Lewis.

‘Oh, nothing. They’re just turning over everything.’ Lewis pushed his hands through his spiky hair, which accounted for the dishevelment, thought Libby. ‘And that fucking woman –’ he stopped and looked guiltily at Fran. Not at her, Libby noticed. ‘Sorry,’ he went on. ‘But she’s turning me into a wreck.’

‘Not a pleasant lady,’ agreed Libby. ‘We’ve just met her.’

‘You have? Both of you?’

‘I only saw her briefly.’ Fran gave Libby an amused look. ‘I think she was getting the worst of an encounter with Mrs Sarjeant here.’

‘Ri-ight.’ Lewis nodded. ‘That’s why she was in an even fouler temper when she came back into the room.’

‘She didn’t tell you she’d met me?’ Libby grinned. ‘I thought she was impressed.’

‘I think she was.’ Lewis picked up his mug and grinned back. ‘Cow.’ He leant forward and poked at the covered plate in front of him. ‘Is this sandwiches?’

‘It is. Shall I call Adam?’

‘I’ll do it.’ Lewis stood up. ‘I know where he is, you don’t.’

He strode out of the kitchen. Fran watched.

‘He isn’t quite what I expected,’ she said.

‘No. He’s not as openly camp as you might expect, and he’s a genuinely nice bloke,’ said Libby. ‘And at the moment he’s feeling really bad because he thinks he’s been let down by Tony West, which he has, and now he feels guilty for thinking that because West’s dead.’

‘Nothing to do with him, though,’ said Fran.

‘Really?’

Fran turned to look at her friend. ‘As far as I can see,’ she said, ‘but I’d like a look over the house and grounds when the police have gone, all the same.’

When all the sandwiches, fruit and cheese, supplemented by a very good white wine produced by Lewis, had gone Libby loaded the dishwasher, packed her own things in her basket and suggested they start the tour with a visit to the parterre, where Adam had vanished the minute the clearing up began.

Lewis led the way across the front lawn, which Libby hadn’t seen before. She was pleasantly surprised at the open aspect, rather than the rather gloomy side approach with which she was more familiar. At the side, an arched door was set in an old wall. Beyond this worked Adam, singing along to his MP3 player. Libby and Fran watched him playing with small sticks and pieces of string while Lewis went and stood in front of him to catch his attention.

Adam explained the thinking behind the restoration of the parterre, and showed them where he and Mog had excavated the original outlines of the garden. Fran wandered away.

‘Can we see the wood now?’ she asked, when Adam had finished his explanation.

Lewis and Adam exchanged glances.