Murder by the Sea (9 page)

‘On your own?’ she said.

‘Donna’ll be in soon.’ Harry waved her to the ancient sofa in the window. ‘Did you want something? Or is this just social?’

‘I thought I might tell you all about Fran’s new investigation.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Harry looked interested. ‘Drop of wine, then, to help it along?’

Once he was settled at the other end of the sofa and a bottle of wine had been provided, Libby told him everything that had happened since the discovery of the body, including the pending introduction of Jane Maurice to The Oast House Theatre.

‘Has she got anything to do with all this?’ asked Harry. ‘The body and everything?’

‘Only that she was the first one to spot it, and she was, I suppose, instrumental in getting Fran on the case. She also ran a front page article last week, and I expect she’ll have quite a large feature this week.

Why?’

Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t know. There’s no reason why she should be involved, I just wondered.’

‘How could she be?’ said Libby. ‘She didn’t know anything about the body!’

‘No, I know.’ Harry frowned. ‘I dunno. Having one of Fran’s moments, I expect.’

‘Oh, I do hope not!’ said Libby. ‘One’s enough.’

Harry laughed and stood up. ‘Come and sit in the yard and have a fag and I’ll make you some lunch,’ he said.

Libby sat in the cool, shady yard at the back of the restaurant and looked up to the flat above, where Fran had, for a brief time, lived.

‘She’s happy, you know,’ she called to Harry in the kitchen.

‘Who?’ Harry came to the doorway with his hands full of onions.

‘Fran. I miss her being here, though.’

‘Oh, come on, Lib, she was only here for a few months.’

‘I know, but it was so great having someone round the corner.’

‘Hey! I’m round the corner.’ Harry was indignant. ‘And what about your
cher ami
? So’s he.’

‘I know, I meant a woman friend. I haven’t had one since I moved here.’

Harry looked mystified. ‘But you’ve got us,’ he said.

‘You’re not women,’ said Libby, and giggled.

‘Good job too,’ said Harry, and returned to the kitchen.

When Libby returned to number 17 Allhallow’s Lane after lunch with Harry, she found a message waiting on her answerphone, and one on her mobile, which she had left, not unusually, on the kitchen table. Both were from Fran, informing her that she would be arriving in Steeple Martin in half an hour.

‘From when?’ muttered Libby, and found out almost immediately when she heard Fran’s roller-skate outside.

‘Ian found out about the Italian,’ she said.

‘Great. Shall we go into the garden? Tea?’

‘Tea would be lovely,’ said Fran, pausing to say hello to Sidney.

‘So what’s happened?’ Libby came into the garden while she waited for the kettle to boil.

‘Apparently, the investigation turned up the original owner of the passport, because details were taken, photocopied, I think, by the council. So, obviously, the police went looking for her at her registered address and found that she was missing. There was no record of her returning to Italy, so they tried to trace her family, but not very hard, I gather. I mean, they obviously had to get onto the Italian authorities, but these things take an awful long time, apparently. You have to put in requests and it can take months.’

‘And does it relate in any way to our body?’

‘No, not as far as I can see,’ said Fran.

‘I’ll go and make the tea,’ said Libby, and went back into the kitchen.

Fran sat in the garden and absent-mindedly stroked Sidney’s head while staring up into the cherry tree. Why did she still get the image of a farm? Somehow illegal immigrants working on farms didn’t seem to be the answer, yet farms were still in her head. She shook it.

‘Here.’ Libby sat a tray on her rickety table. ‘Biscuits as well. Bel showed me how to make these. They’re ginger.’

Fran peered at the plate. ‘Are you sure? They look like real ones.’

‘I know! Great, aren’t they? Fancy my daughter showing me how to make something as good as this. Mind you, I’m getting through loads of Golden Syrup.’

‘Mmm.’ Fran bit into a biscuit. ‘They are good. Not for the figure, though.’

‘Oh, I’ve given up on the figure,’ said Libby, sitting down and kicking off her sandals. ‘Now, what about the Transnistrian? Where did she live?’

‘I don’t know.’ Fran looked bewildered. ‘I didn’t ask.’

‘And have you found out any more about the country?’

‘I haven’t gone into it. It just seems a really odd place. Someone calls it the Black Hole of Europe.’

‘Sounds like somebody made it up,’ said Libby.

‘That’s what I thought at first, but it’s a real place.’

‘Right.’ Libby picked up her mug and sat up straight. ‘Ask Mr Mclean. Then we’ll go investigating.’

‘I don’t honestly see what this has to do with the body on the island,’ said Fran. ‘I think you’re grasping at straws.’

‘Maybe, but at least it gets us working. We’ve done nothing but potter about over the last week, and tomorrow you’re off to Chrissie’s, aren’t you? So Saturday we really ought to be doing something.’

‘Look, Lib, we’re not real detectives. And you’re not even supposed to be part of the investigation.’ Fran eyed her friend warily, waiting for the outburst. Surprisingly, it didn’t come.

‘I know that, but you’ve been invited into it legitimately, and you said yourself I’d be useful. And you know you want to find out really. So we act like real detectives and start with whatever we’ve got.’ Libby sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.

‘Right.’ Fran thought for a moment. ‘I suppose it makes sense. I’ll phone McLean tomorrow and ask about the Transnistrian before I go to Chrissie’s.’

‘OK.’ Libby opened her eyes. ‘And it’s the audition tomorrow night. You won’t be there for it, but can I say you’re doing Props?’

‘You can, but you can also ask for a volunteer to do it with me. I’m not doing it all on my own.’

‘Right,’ said Libby thoughtfully. ‘That’s given me an idea.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Fran with a familiar groan. ‘Don’t tell me. Jane Maurice.’

‘Well, of course,’ said Libby. ‘It makes perfect sense. She lives in Nethergate and so do you, so you could share the driving, and she wouldn’t be doing something on her own.’

‘Always supposing the poor girl actually wants to do something.’

‘Look, you’re just prejudiced because she tried to turn you into a media star,’ said Libby. ‘She’s only trying to do her job, and as I keep saying to everybody, she’s lonely.’

‘OK,’ said Fran with a sigh, ‘you ask her. And I’ll find out anything else I can about our Transnistrian.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ Libby beamed at her friend. ‘I’ve missed having something to do. And now, why did you feel it was so urgent you had to come over rather than ringing me?’

Fran looked sheepish. ‘I feel a bit silly, really.’

‘Not like you.’

‘No, I know. But I had this sudden desire to see where Jane lived, so I drove past thinking I’d go on to the supermarket afterwards.’

‘And?’

‘Well, it was really odd. You told me Jane’s Aunt had left her the house, didn’t you? And I suppose that made me think about the similarity of our circumstances, especially as Jane’s house is also converted into flats like Mountville Road was.’

‘Go on,’ said Libby, as Fran paused.

‘I said it was silly,’ said Fran, peering down into her mug. ‘I suddenly thought, as I drove past, I knew which one it was and something nasty had happened there.’

Libby stared. ‘You think it was just because of your own experience of Mountville Road?’

‘I don’t know what to think.’

‘Funny.’ Libby frowned. ‘When I had lunch with Harry he asked if Jane was anything to do with the body. I said only because she saw it first. But I wonder.’

Fran looked startled. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said, ‘that’s quite ridiculous. We’re talking real life here, not coincidental detective stories. Besides, since when did Harry become psychic?’

‘That’s what I said to him, but I think he was just putting two and two together like we have in the past.’

‘And made five, also as we have,’ said Fran.

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But look, she spotted the body, didn’t she? Suppose she was a plant?’

‘You’ve met her. I don’t think she’d be capable. And you’re not suggesting she murdered someone and planted the body all by herself just to get a story, are you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Anyway,’ said Fran, ‘I didn’t get a bad feeling about Jane but about the house.’

‘Oh, well, it was a thought,’ said Libby.

‘You’re the one who wants to befriend her. You can’t have her as a suspect as well.’

Libby grinned. ‘I know. Mass of contradictions, me.’

‘Well,’ said Fran, ‘I suppose I’d better go and do that shopping.’

‘And make that phone call.’ Libby stood up. ‘I shall phone young Jane and tell her what we’ve got in mind.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ said Fran, following her out of the garden. ‘She might not come!’

‘I shall merely invite her here first, then,’ said Libby loftily. ‘I know how to be tactful.’

Fran raised her eyebrows and shook her head at Sidney.

‘The trouble is, she believes it,’ she told him.

Chapter Nine

‘THE TRANSNISTRIAN GIRL IS now in a detention centre waiting to be sent home,’ Fran reported the following morning. ‘Poor thing, straight from prison to a detention centre and now she’s got to go back. Still McLean’s going to see if the police will either let me talk to her or talk to her themselves. He seems to think it’s a long shot and is fairly dubious.’

‘But he’s got to give you the benefit of the doubt, hasn’t he? Now the police have asked for the investigation,’ said Libby.

‘Yes, but he’s not nearly as keen, now. When it was all his idea it was a real project, but now he’s got to play it by the police rules and not even feature me, he doesn’t like it.’

‘Will he feature you at the end, do you think?’ ‘I hope not,’ said Fran with fervour. ‘He’s supposed to keep me out of it.’ ‘But that’s cheating. How could Ian have harnessed his co-operation without you as a carrot?’

‘I don’t know. I have the feeling I might have to appear at the end, not necessarily in person, but as a hook to hang the story on.’ Fran sighed. ‘I hate this.’

‘Well, you go off to Chrissie’s and have a lovely time babysitting Cassandra, and call me when you get back,’ said Libby. ‘Meanwhile, I shall take Jane to the audition and pump her for information about her house.’

‘Oh, Libby, don’t do that,’ said Fran. ‘I’m not sure at all about what I felt yesterday. Just leave it.’

But when Libby phoned Jane at her office to invite her to come to Allhallow’s Lane before the audition, her house was obviously the first thing on her mind.

‘I’ve had three answers to the ad,’ she told Libby gleefully. ‘That was so clever of you to suggest it. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.’

‘Oh, excellent,’ said Libby. ‘When are you seeing them?’

‘Actually, Terry’s going to show them round this afternoon,’ said Jane. ‘It was his idea. He said women on their own shouldn’t do it, and it was as well to show them there was a man around.’

‘Well!’ said Libby, grinning into the phone. Her instincts had been correct, then. ‘That’s good. So are you still going to come to the audition tonight? I thought you might want to come to my house first, then we can go together. I’ve got a proposition for you.’

‘Oh?’ Jane sounded wary.

‘If you still want to come, of course.’

‘Oh, yes. I think you must be bringing me luck.’ Jane gave a little laugh. ‘Or just given me a boot up the backside.’

Libby privately agreed. ‘You were trying to be pro-active with the job,’ she said, ‘it just wasn’t extending to your private life.’

‘No,’ said Jane. ‘Anyway, I’ll come to your house this evening, if I may. What time and where?’

After Libby had given directions to Allhallow’s Lane and arranged for Jane to arrive at a quarter past seven, she called Peter to discuss the audition.

‘Is it going to be a problem if I go for the Fairy?’

she asked. ‘Will people be annoyed and mutter about pre-casting?’

‘Probably,’ said Peter, ‘but I couldn’t care less. I’m going to announce Bob and Baz and Tom as pre-cast anyway, so I might as well add you. This lot aren’t all as experienced as we are, so they should be pleased we’ve got good people in the lead parts.’

‘If you say so,’ said Libby. ‘Did Harry tell you I’m bringing along a new member?’

‘Yes. He seemed a bit worried about her, though.’

‘Why? He’s never met her.’

‘It seems you met her through this new murder,’ said Peter, and Libby could imagine the expression on his patrician features.

‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ said Libby, bridling, ‘but yes, she was the first one to spot the body, which is hardly an involvement, is it?’