Murder in Steeple Martin (28 page)

‘God what a mess,’ said Libby, unconsciously echoing Harry.

Ben squeezed her arm. ‘Don’t have nightmares, Lib. We’ll get over it.’

She looked at him as they turned into Allhallow’s Lane. ‘I can’t help the nightmares, Ben. I just hope the rest of you don’t get them.’

He stopped, and Libby was aware of the silence of the night around them. He ran a finger down the side of her face and she shivered.

‘Are we all right again, now?’ he asked.

Libby looked at him for a long time without saying anything. Finally, she said, ‘If I knew why we haven’t been all right, I might say yes. But I don’t.’

Ben looked down. ‘My fault. I got so muddled about the family, and I felt you were interfering.’

‘Oh, yes, that came over loud and clear. What I couldn’t understand is why you brought Fran in. If I was interfering, what was she doing?’

‘I suppose I thought, as a complete outsider, she might be able to clear a few things up so we could forget about them, then she could just disappear back where she came from.’

‘But you see her for work. How could she disappear? Anyway, I thought you fancied her.’

Ben looked up and grinned. ‘Yes, I thought you did. Well, I don’t. Tell you who does, though,’ he added, looking thoughtful.

‘Who?’

‘Your Stephen. You’ll have to watch him.’

‘Stephen? Really? How do you know?’

‘He asked about her. Seemed very interested. And he’s left you alone, hasn’t he?’

Libby sighed. ‘Yes, he has. In fact, when he walked me home the other night he told me he knew I wasn’t interested, but hoped we could stay friends, sort of thing.’

‘There you are. He’s transferred his affections.’

‘Just as well, although I don’t see much future in it, with her in London and him down here.’

‘I did offer to pass on his phone number. I wouldn’t give out hers, obviously.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Oh, he was all for it. Land line and mobile. He really is a nice bloke, you know, Lib.’

Libby sighed again. ‘I know. Just terribly boring. I feel bad about bringing him over here now. He must have taken it as a sign that I fancied him.’

‘You’d think by the time we reached our age we’d have grown out of all that sort of behaviour, wouldn’t you?’ said Ben.

‘That was exactly what I’ve been thinking these last two weeks,’ exclaimed Libby.

‘Have you? Why?’ Ben moved a fraction closer.

‘Oh, you know.’ Libby felt the now familiar blush creeping up her neck. ‘Well, you do know, you annoying man. Perfectly well.’ She turned and began to walk up Allhallow’s Lane. ‘And I’m not going to ask you in tonight, either. I think you need to get back to the bosom of your family. You’re going to have an absolutely bloody time over the next few weeks, and Susan’s got to live with it for the rest of her life. Your poor sister.’

It was Ben’s turn to sigh. ‘I know. But I think Pete’s going to have a bad time, too. I blame Millie more than David in all this, and he’s going to have live with that. Mind you, so’s James.’

‘I wonder if they will put her in a home, now?’

‘David said he thought she might be able to live on her own for a while longer.’

‘Sheltered housing, then?’

‘But not here. Not in Maltby Close.’

‘No, that would be a bit much, wouldn’t it?’

They stopped outside Libby’s door.

‘I’m sorry if anything I’ve done or said contributed to any of this,’ said Libby in a muffled voice, as Ben pulled her close to him.

‘Don’t be daft. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Pete for the play and me for the theatre. And now, shut up.’

He shut her up more effectively than ever before, and, by the time he let her go, Libby’s legs were threatening to give way completely.

‘I’ll ring you in the morning,’ he said. ‘Sorry the last night turned out so badly.’

‘I’d forgotten about that,’ said Libby, surprised. ‘Good lord!’

But when she got in to bed a little later, she remembered. Remembered the cast, high on success, wondering why she’d left them in their hour of glory. Thank God for Stephen, who had so obviously understood and who would have smoothed things over as he had done throughout the last difficult weeks. You never had to tell him twice, and he had used his initiative more than once on her behalf. So he got a little annoyed with her sometimes? Well, you couldn’t blame him, thought Libby sleepily. Just hope Fran doesn’t find him as boring as I do …

Chapter Thirty-three

O
N
S
UNDAY MORNING
L
IBBY
woke to an overcast sky and a sense of foreboding. As she hadn’t been at the after-show party she had no idea what arrangements had been made for the “get out” at the theatre, or whether Stephen had arranged to strike the set that day or leave it until everyone had got their breath back. She assumed the cast would arrive at some time to collect personal items, and she had told them at the start they would be required to pack up costumes and props and clean the dressing rooms, so she only hoped someone had thought fit to remind them of it last night. Stephen would have, she was sure.

She decided ten o’clock seemed an appropriate time to go, but when she phoned Stephen at nine-thirty to check, there was no reply. Either he had already left, or he’d stayed over last night with someone in the village, which seemed a likelier explanation. Wrapping her cloak around her and jamming an ancient sou’wester on her head, she said goodbye to Sidney and plunged out into the rain. Damp flakes of blossom blew into her face and made the path slippery and, despite the rain, she soon became overheated inside the cape. All of which had the effect of keeping her mind off the events of yesterday, so when she finally made it up the drive to the theatre and saw Stephen coming towards her with an expression of the utmost compassion on his face, it all hit her with renewed force and she was hard put to it not to burst into tears.

‘Don’t worry, Lib,’ he said, putting an arm round her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. ‘I told them all to be here as early as possible this morning, and we did some of it last night, so there’s hardly anything to do.’

‘How much do you know?’ Libby asked, turning to face him.

‘Only that David’s dead. Harry told me last night. None of the family will be here today. I’m surprised to see you, frankly.’

Libby sighed. ‘One of us had to be here,’ she said, ‘and I’m not family, after all.’

‘As good as,’ said Stephen wryly.

Libby turned to go in to the theatre. ‘Not at all,’ she said.

Emma, coming out with an armful of costumes, stopped in front of them.

‘We’re so sorry to hear about David, Lib,’ she said. ‘Is it – I mean, we wondered …’

‘Anything to do with Paula’s death, she means,’ said Stephen.

‘Not as far as I know,’ said Libby, ‘but I don’t really
know
anything. Thanks, anyway.’

Emma’s sentiments were repeated by almost everybody as Libby wandered round the building feeling redundant. The small back-stage crew just smiled at her and carried on taking down flats, and wrenching nails out of wood. She stood staring up into the flies, wondering yet again how anyone could have got up there and cut the steel wire. And why. All the speculation about the family, and which of them wanted the play to be stopped was at an end with Hetty’s revelations, and the tragedy of David’s death was really nothing to do with it at all. The accidents were a complete mystery, now, just as they had been from the first. Libby just wanted to forget it all and move on. Which reminded her, she was going to try and get up to London to see Fran and stay with Belinda. She was just reaching into her basket for her mobile, having remembered it for once, when it began to ring.

‘Libby, it’s Fran.’

‘I was just trying to ring you,’ said Libby, ‘how spooky.’

‘No, not spooky. What happened yesterday?’

Libby paused, not really wanting to tell Fran over the phone.

‘Something happened. I had this terrible dream. Come on, Lib. What happened?’

‘What was your dream?’ asked Libby, cautiously.

‘I’m not going to tell you in case it has nothing to do with anything,’ said Fran, sounding irritable.

Libby moved away from the wings out on to the middle of the stage. ‘David’s dead,’ she said as quietly as she could.

‘What?’ Fran gasped. ‘
David
?’

‘That wasn’t your dream, then?’

‘No … oh, God, how dreadful. Was he – was he – er, killed?’

‘He committed suicide,’ said Libby.

There was a silence. ‘Then it was true,’ said Fran finally.

‘What was?’

‘Do you remember me saying it was something to do with Paula and James? Well, it was, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Don’t tell me now. You’re on your mobile, so it’s obviously not convenient, so ring me when you get home, will you? It’s important.’

‘Fran, if it’s important, you must tell me now.’

‘I can’t, Libby. I’ll tell you later.’

Libby looked at the phone in bewilderment.

‘What’s up?’ said Stephen, climbing on to the stage and wiping his hands on a disgusting-looking piece of cloth.

‘Nothing,’ said Libby, ‘it was just Fran. I’ll ring her back at home.’

‘Oh, Fran.’ Stephen looked down at his feet. ‘Did Ben give her my number, do you know?’

‘No idea. He told me he was going to.’

‘How do you think she’d react?’

‘I don’t know, Stephen. I hardly know her. She just said she needs to talk to me.’

‘Her psychic thing, is it?’

‘How do you know?’ said Libby in surprise.

‘Oh, word gets around,’ said Stephen, looking uncomfortable.

‘Yes, but how?’ said Libby suspiciously.

‘Oh, Libby. You know how much gossip there is around am-dram.’

‘Don’t use that awful name,’ shuddered Libby.

‘Don’t be so pernickety,’ said Stephen, his eyes narrowing. ‘You can be a real pain, sometimes, Libby.’

Libby looked up, startled. ‘Sorry, I’m sure,’ she said. ‘I’ll go, then. I’m not needed here, and I can come in at any time to collect anything I’ve forgotten.’

‘Your own little domain, isn’t it? Just what you’ve always wanted.’

‘Stephen! What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Oh, nothing. Forget I said it,’ said Stephen, turning into the wings. ‘I’ll give you a ring.’

Libby set off down the drive feeling disquieted. The change in Stephen’s manner from when he greeted her to just now was disconcerting, and she wondered how many of her cast and crew had felt the same about her. Was she a bossy old cow with megalomaniac and despotic tendencies?

At the bottom of the drive she hesitated, wondering whether to call on Peter and Harry, who surely wouldn’t be opening the restaurant today, or leave them alone until they wanted to speak to her. If ever.

However, as she walked past The Pink Geranium, she was surprised to be hailed by a muffled shout from inside. Harry waved her to the door.

‘I didn’t think you’d be open,’ said Libby, as she stepped inside.

‘Got bookings, and Donna can’t cope on her own after last night. We used up all the emergency staff. Anyway, Pete’s gone over to his mum’s. They’re all in a bit of a state.’

‘Hardly surprising. I wonder if they’ll ever recover?’

‘Want a coffee or something? I could do with a break from chopping veg,’ said Harry, sniffing his long elegant fingers and making a face.

‘Lovely. Shall I do it?’

‘No, you sit there and put your feet up. I’d just made a pot.’

Harry came back from the kitchen with the coffee, mugs and an ashtray. ‘So, reckon we’re going back to our outsider status, then?’

‘You and me against the Family?’ Libby looked up at him. ‘Probably. They’re going to have so much to deal with, aren’t they?’

Harry offered cigarettes. ‘And all we can do is offer hands to hold or shoulders to cry on.’

‘Well, at least we don’t have to worry about Paula’s murderer being in the family now.’

‘No?’ Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘What about Susan?’

‘Susan?’ Libby was horrified. ‘For God’s sake, Harry, you can’t believe that.’

‘If she knew about Paula and James and realised that the whole thing would come out if they got married, how do you think she’d have felt? Especially as she and David had no children, and he had two from two different mothers, one of them being her own aunt.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Libby doubtfully, ‘but surely she’d realise that with Paula dead it would all come out anyway.’

‘Not if it was in the heat of the moment,’ said Harry, taking a sip of coffee.

‘But the body was moved, wasn’t it? In the bedspread. Susan couldn’t have done that. Besides, if it was the heat of the moment she’d have hit David, not Paula.’

‘Not if she’d known for a long time and kept it quiet. She had a position to keep up, didn’t she?’

‘Oh, this is rubbish,’ said Libby. ‘Of course it wasn’t Susan. And she couldn’t have rigged the accidents, either, and it looks now as if they had something to do with Paula rather than the play.’

‘Well, start looking for who could have done them, then,’ said Harry. ‘Now that some of the wood’s been cleared from the trees. Opportunity and all that. And don’t start saying you’re not Miss Marple. We’ve heard that before, and you’re still worrying away at it.’

‘Oh, gosh, yes. That reminds me,’ said Libby, standing up and stubbing out her cigarette. ‘Fran called and I said I’d phone her back when I got home.’

‘More psychic stuff?’

‘I don’t know, Harry. But even if she doesn’t quite believe it herself, she does come out with some extraordinary things. If she’s got something to say, I need to hear it.’

‘All right, don’t bristle up at me.’ Harry stood up and gave her a kiss. ‘I’ll ring you later and if we’re still out in the cold perhaps we can have a drink together or something.’

Feeling a bit better, Libby hurried along the High Street towards Allhallow’s Lane, and was surprised on turning the corner to see Stephen coming towards her.

‘There you are,’ he called. ‘I’d just about given up.’

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Libby, drawing level with him.

‘I wanted to apologise. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I suppose things have got to me more than I thought.’ Stephen wouldn’t meet her eyes.

‘You had me worried,’ said Libby. ‘I thought I’d turned into an ogre.’

‘No more than most directors.’ Stephen turned his head and grinned. ‘Anyway, we’ve more or less finished at the theatre. Want to come and see?’

‘No, I don’t. I’ve had enough of the theatre for a while, thank you very much. Anyway, Fran’s expecting me to call her, so I’d better get home.’

‘With no strings – I could make the tea while you phone her?’

‘Did I invite you for tea?’ Libby smiled.

‘Yes, but not today. I’m just taking it up today, that’s all.’ Stephen smiled back.

‘Oh, go on, then. Just be careful of Sidney.’

Sidney, however, retreated upstairs in a huff, thoroughly fed up that his house was yet again being invaded by Others.

Libby lit the fire, although it wasn’t really cold, just depressingly gloomy and wet, and showed Stephen where things were in the kitchen before dialling Fran’s number.

‘At last. What have you been doing?’

‘The get out. Well, I wasn’t exactly, but it was being done.’

‘So tell me what’s happened. From the beginning.’

Libby told her, perching on the arm of the armchair nearest the window and staring out at the rain reducing the green to a quagmire. The blossom from the hawthorn drifted wetly down into slush-like drifts.

‘I said it was to do with Paula and James, didn’t I?’ said Fran, when she’d finished.

‘But the murder wasn’t. Unless Harry’s right, and it was Susan.’

‘No, it was David who was coming through so strongly to me. And I said I thought you were wrong.’

‘Yes, you did. And I feel bad about going to see him.’

‘He asked you to. But I still don’t see why it was you he wanted to talk to.’

Libby sighed. ‘Either everyone wants to talk to me or nobody does.’

‘Well, I wanted to tell you about my dream. It’s all to do with opportunity.’

‘That’s what Harry said,’ said Libby. ‘Who had the opportunity?’

‘Not just for the murder,’ said Fran, ‘but the accidents.’

‘And did you see who it was?’

‘I didn’t actually see, but it was easy to work it out.’

‘Is it?’ Libby frowned. Opportunity. For the accidents. For the murder. Not just opportunity, but the means. She heard Stephen come into the room behind her.

‘Can’t find any sugar, Lib,’ he said.

‘Libby!’ Fran’s voice was sharp in her ear. ‘Libby, be careful.’

And of course, it all became clear.