Murder by the Sea (33 page)

‘As I said before, I think that was where he was killed. On the boat. Then he was dumped.’

‘They must have been good sailors,’ mused Libby, ‘with all those rocks. And it was at night.’

‘But who were they?’ said Fran. ‘And where are they now? They’re obviously the ones who attacked Terry the first time and who broke in on Saturday.’

‘How about,’ said Libby, ‘and this is only a guess, mind, that Pietro? He went back to Italy, Jane said. Well, perhaps he didn’t.’

‘We’ve already considered him,’ said Fran.

‘Before we knew the full story,’ said Libby.

‘We don’t know the full story yet, Libby,’ said Fran. ‘All we’ve got is speculation, as usual. I have a feeling the worst is yet to come.’

‘And I have a feeling you’re right,’ said Jane.

Chapter Thirty-two

FRAN AND LIBBY GASPED simultaneously and turned to the door.

Jane came into the room looking only slightly less rumpled and weary than she had an hour ago.

‘You should still be asleep,’ said Libby, when she’d found her voice. ‘What are you doing up?’

‘I woke up when I heard Fran arrive,’ said Jane, sitting on the chair by the table. ‘I decided I ought to listen to what you were saying.’

Libby risked a glance at Fran, who was sitting staring rigidly ahead. She cleared her throat. ‘Er – would you like a fresh cup of tea?’ she asked. ‘You were asleep when I brought the first one up.’

Jane nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

Well, she didn’t look capable of attacking anyone, thought Libby, whatever she’d been concealing. She went into the kitchen, where the kettle was still simmering on the Rayburn and put a teabag into a mug. Her brain was almost in suspended animation, not knowing quite what to think or what to feel. Fran, it appeared, was in the same position.

‘So you heard what we were saying,’ Libby said, taking the bull by the horns. ‘And were we right?’

Jane took a sip of her tea and nodded. ‘I didn’t think for a moment anyone would know what was going on,’ she said wearily, ‘and I didn’t really believe in Fran’s psychic ability at first.’

‘But she convinced you?’

Jane nodded again. ‘And once you’d got on to Aunt Jess and Simon Madderling I got worried.’

Fran seemed to come awake. ‘So you knew all about it?’

‘Aunt Jess told me years ago. Since I was a child she’d shown me pictures of Simon and told me about what they did in the war. She always said someone would come looking one day.’

‘Looking? For what?’ said Libby.

‘For some documents Simon had left with her. Only he hadn’t.’

‘He
hadn’t
?’ said Fran.

‘So she said. But then I met Rosa.’

‘Ah, yes. Rosa,’ said Fran.

‘What I told you was true,’ said Jane with a sigh. ‘Everything. But then she heard from Andrei that Lena had been arrested. And her family wanted her out of the way quickly. Apparently they were very angry at what she’d done. So she told me all about it.’

‘Go on,’ said Libby, when it appeared that Jane had fallen into a trance.

‘Her family had kept track of Aunt Jess ever since the war.’

‘The Italian visitors,’ said Fran, ‘that Mrs Finch told us about.’

‘Yes, them. They were supposed to be friends of Aunt Jess’s. And others, from a distance. She said they thought she would never do anything with these documents because they would ruin her reputation, let alone Simon’s.’

‘They didn’t know she and Simon were working for MI5?’ said Libby.

‘No, they thought Simon was a traitor.’ Jane made an attempt at a smile. ‘Funny, really, wasn’t it?’

‘Then what happened? The fifty year rule?’ asked Fran.

‘And they discovered what the real state of affairs was,’ said Libby.

‘So what did they do?’ asked Fran.

‘It wasn’t until about three years ago that they discovered all this,’ said Jane. ‘Then Aunt Jess went into a home and then she died. They found out that the house had been left to me. They tried to break into the house, but didn’t manage it, perhaps they didn’t realise there were tenants there. So Rosa was sent over to make friends with me.’

Libby and Fran watched as Jane’s face crumpled. Fran got up and went over to her, putting an arm round her and leading her from the upright chair to the creaky sofa. Libby got up to make room for them and sat down in Fran’s abandoned armchair.

‘What happened next?’ asked Fran after a decent interval.

‘What I told you. She worked for Pietro and we became friends. Now I know why she didn’t ever invite me home, of course.’ Jane sniffed and sat upright. ‘Anyway, you know the rest. She told me everything and disappeared.’

‘Did you meet Andrei?’ asked Libby.

‘Once. Rosa gave him my mobile number and he rang me to tell me she’d gone back to Italy. I went to meet him in a bar in London. He said it was safer not to be near either of our places of work.’

‘Did he say why?’ asked Fran.

‘Her family were dangerous, he said.’ Jane sniffed again. ‘He was nice.’

‘Who were they? The family. We know Francini wasn’t her real name.’ said Libby.

Jane shook her head. ‘I don’t know. And I don’t know why these documents are so important to them, either.’

‘Inspector Connell said he couldn’t see why anything would be so important after all this time,’ said Fran. ‘It’s over sixty years since the war ended. Anyone exposed now would either be dead or very old. Would it matter?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Libby. ‘There’ve been at least two fairly high profile cases with very old people being put on trial for war crimes. There was a woman in London and a bloke in Kent, I’m sure.’

‘So would Italy put someone on trial if they were exposed now? That’s presumably what they’re worried about,’ said Fran.

‘No idea,’ said Libby. ‘What do you think, Jane?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Jane with a sigh. ‘And why would they murder poor Andrei? And was it a warning for me?’

‘Very clumsy if it was,’ said Fran. ‘You didn’t see it properly and were never told who it was. It took long enough for the police to find out.’

‘And that was only because of your suggestion,’ said Libby.

‘As for murdering Andrei, I suspect they thought he knew too much as he’d been Rosa’s lover,’ said Fran.

‘Don’t you think you ought to tell Inspector Connell everything you’ve told us?’ asked Libby.

Jane looked frightened. ‘They’d find out,’ she said.

‘How?’ asked Fran.

‘I don’t know. But if I go home they’ll know where I am. If I talk to the police they’ll find out.’

Libby and Fran looked at one another.

‘How about if I ask Ian – Inspector Connell – to come here to Libby’s house? You wouldn’t mind, would you, Lib?’

‘Of course not. That’s a really good idea,’ said Libby. ‘Don’t you think, Jane?’

‘He’ll be cross with me,’ said Jane, hanging her head. Fran let out a tut of exasperation.

‘Yes, I expect he will,’ she said, ‘but what choice do you have? Two of your tenants have already been attacked, your house has been broken into several times – what about old Mrs Finch if you won’t think of yourself?’

‘I was,’ she said. ‘That’s what I said yesterday, but when Libby told me about Andrei this morning –’ she let the sentence hang.

‘The police are the best people to deal with this sort of situation,’ said Fran decisively. ‘I’m going to phone Connell now.’ She got up and went to her bag. Jane just sat on the sofa looking scared.

‘Cheer up, Jane,’ said Libby. ‘Terry’s going to get better, the police can find out who’s been doing this and maybe,’ she paused as a thought struck her, ‘just maybe, they can find some other top secret information about Simon Madderling. Somewhere there must be a record of what he was doing and who his contacts were. Bingo!’

She looked proudly at Fran and Jane. Fran shook her head before speaking into the phone. Jane looked puzzled. ‘But if there were records,’ she said, ‘why did Simon hide those documents in the first place. Or say he had.’

‘Because – oh, I don’t know.’ Libby frowned. ‘MI5 would have known about his contacts, though. He wouldn’t have wanted the Italians, or whoever they were, to know he was MI5.’

‘But why,’ said Fran, clicking off her phone, ‘did he say he’d hidden documents when he hadn’t?’

‘That’s what Aunt Jess said. She was never given anything to hide, or told where anything was. She thought it was all a bluff on Simon’s part to keep him alive.’

‘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.’