Murder in the Blood (11 page)

They all looked at each other.

‘It's possible,' said Ben. ‘But pure speculation.'

‘That's what you're all so good at,' said Ian. ‘Anyway, be warned that you're likely to be visited by either your Johnny or his minions. He isn't happy about this.'

‘Was Wilson a criminal?' asked Libby. ‘Can you tell us that at least?'

Ian shook his head. ‘Not even that.'

‘I've just thought,' said Fran. ‘You know his passport was tied round his waist? Suppose it was there so that he would be identified if found?'

‘Do you think he was meant to be found?' said Ian.

Fran looked at her friends. ‘How likely would it be that the body caught on that piece of rock? If he'd been pushed off a boat, say?'

‘He might have drifted into that little cave,' said Guy.

‘And hooked himself up onto the rock?' said Fran. ‘There are no tides in the Mediterranean.'

‘A warning?' said Ian. ‘Someone who wanted him investigated?'

‘If that was the case, they didn't have to kill him,' said Libby. ‘They could have sent an anonymous letter or something.'

‘To whom, though?' asked Ian. ‘No, killing him would make sure there was an investigation.'

‘Which nearly didn't happen,' said Libby. ‘The Jandarma weren't doing much good.'

‘So it's thanks to you there is one,' said Ian.

‘Not really. It's thanks to his friend Martha, who was worried about his newly found mother not knowing,' said Fran.

‘Except that you two went and pushed her,' said Ben.

‘Suppose you tell me everything that happened,' said Ian, sitting forward. ‘As if you were giving me a witness statement.'

‘Why?' Libby was wary.

‘I told you. I think you'll be questioned again, and if I can give your commander statements while his investigation is still centred in Turkey, at least he'll have something to go on.'

‘But he knows everything already,' said Libby.

‘Did he take notes?'

‘Well, no …'

‘And you are no longer there for him to ask.'

‘All right,' said Libby, ‘but not now, surely?

The door swung open.

‘Hello! What have I missed?' asked Harry.

The following morning, Ian and Fran arrived on Libby's doorstep at the same time.

‘I thought we'd sit in the kitchen,' said Libby, leading the way. ‘It seems less cosy than the front room.'

‘And better for me to take notes,' said Ian.

‘Yes,' said Libby with a sigh.

After they had settled at the kitchen table and Libby had provided coffee, tea, and biscuits, Ian took out his notebook.

‘Now,' he said. ‘From the beginning.'

Between them, Fran and Libby related the events that followed the discovery of Alec Wilson's body.

‘It feels as though we've been through this a million times,' said Libby. ‘And it doesn't get any easier.'

‘I looked up the witness protection scheme online,' said Fran. ‘It's part of the National Crime Agency.'

‘Yes.' Ian sounded wary.

‘Usually people are part of an investigation of serious crime, or possibly honour killings. I wouldn't have thought Alec Wilson was involved with honour killings.'

‘So, serious crime?' said Libby. ‘Organised crime?'

Both women looked at Ian.

‘It's possible. I told you, I don't know the details. The Service works independently of local forces, although there are regional Protected Persons Units. But the whole idea of the service is that nobody knows where the person is.'

‘But if there's a threat to the person in their new identity someone must get to know about it,' said Fran.

‘There's a flagging system, of course,' said Ian, ‘but you don't need to know about that.'

‘And Wilson was flagged?' said Libby.

‘When the restaurant owner called the consulate, yes. All the flag meant was that they had to inform the Met, which they did. As it happens, Commander Smith really was staying with one of the Jandarma chiefs at the time, so he was able to take over immediately.'

‘But that would mean whoever killed him wasn't a local. We said that, didn't we?' Libby turned to Fran. ‘It must have been someone who went out specially.'

‘Not necessarily. After all, the other victim was a local. It could just as easily be someone he'd annoyed out there – nothing to do with any previous connection to crime.'

‘I wonder if they found the computer and mobile phones,' said Fran. ‘And if so, what was on them.'

‘You'll never know, sadly,' said Ian with a grin. ‘I'll get this typed up and send it across to Smith. Do you think there's anything in there you wouldn't have told him?'

‘I wouldn't give him the names he asked for, but apparently he already knew them anyway. But we've all come home now – the holidaymakers, that is. Neal Parnham, Greta, and Tom, and Betty and Walter Roberts – they all left before we did, and we didn't see anything more of either Smith or the Jandarma after that.'

‘Well, be prepared for him to descend like a ton of bricks. I hope this might keep him off, but I have my doubts.' Ian stood up. ‘If anything else happens, let me know.'

Fran and Libby took fresh cups of tea and coffee into the garden after he'd gone.

‘I wonder what sort of crime it was,' said Libby. ‘Remember how worried Neal was when he thought Wilson was a criminal?'

‘If he'd had a holiday fling with him, I'm not surprised,' said Fran. ‘And we don't know that he was a criminal, remember. Far more likely he was a witness.'

‘Or a gang member who turned on the gang and gave evidence. Much more likely.' Libby looked up through the leaves of the cherry tree. ‘Do you think we'll ever go back there?'

‘I'd like to,' said Fran, ‘but we may be unwelcome.'

‘Why?' Libby was indignant. ‘We didn't do anything! We just found the body. With a local.'

‘And asked questions, and encouraged Martha to inform the consulate,' said Fran. ‘And don't forget the Istanbul Palace. They all saw Smith come to see us, and they will know by now who he was. He's bound to have questioned them all.'

‘Hmmm.' Libby resumed her contemplation of the leaves. ‘I wish we could find out what's going on. I wonder why Martha didn't say when she replied to your email.'

‘I don't expect she's got time to write reams in emails,' said Fran. ‘The restaurant seemed to be getting very busy by the time we left.'

‘We've got email addresses for most of the others, haven't we?'

‘Greta and Tom and Betty, yes. And Harry got Justin's, I think.'

‘I wonder what Peter thought about that?' said Libby.

‘I don't suppose he minded. More a solidarity sort of thing, I think.'

‘And didn't Neal say Justin was going to email him if anything happened?' said Libby. ‘So we're all in touch in a roundabout way. Shall we ask them all what's been going on? See if anyone's heard anything?'

‘We could.' Fran tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. ‘I could email Martha again.'

‘And Hal could email Justin. And I'll do Greta and Tom and Betty, although I don't suppose they'll know anything.'

‘And we might as well ask Jimmy, too,' said Fran. ‘I'll ask Guy to do that, as he knew Jimmy from way back.'

‘Astonishing that they all remembered him, wasn't it?' said Libby.

‘I think it's such a small place they're able to remember visitors. If it was a great big resort they wouldn't.' Fran sat up straight. ‘Of course, there's social media as well! Jimmy's had a page, didn't it? If we went on to that we might be able to get in touch with other people.'

They went inside and Libby located the Facebook pages for Jimmy's hotel, Martha's, and even The Red Bar.

‘Look! Greta and Tom are members,' said Libby. ‘Let's put a post on there. Jimmy will probably see it, too.'

‘It's a bit public,' said Fran. ‘We don't necessarily want the world to know what's going on. I mean, we're not even supposed to know Wilson was in the witness protection scheme.'

‘Oh.' Libby's face fell. ‘Well, just put a post up saying “how is everyone” sort of thing?'

‘That's suitably vague,' said Fran. ‘Go on then. Someone might get back to us. It doesn't look as though Martha and Ismet use their page very often, so I'll email her when I get home. And then we'll wait and see who gets back to us first.'

‘If anyone,' said Libby, beginning to type.

But the first person to get in touch with either of them was neither holidaymaker nor local resident. It was Commander Johnny Smith.

Chapter Thirteen

‘Ah! Both of you together. That's lucky.'

Libby and Fran gaped at the man getting out of a large black Mercedes parked behind Fran's Smart car. He beamed at them as he trotted across the lane.

‘Quite informal, I assure you,' he said, arriving slightly out of breath at the door. ‘Just thought I'd have a quick word.'

‘And you came all the way from Turkey to Steeple Martin to have it?' said Libby, finding her voice.

‘Not quite. I've been in London since the day before yesterday.'

‘DCI Connell told us you had a team out in Turkey,' said Fran, narrowing her eyes at him.

‘I have,' he said cheerfully. ‘Well, aren't you going to ask me in?'

Libby looked at Fran, who shrugged. She stood aside slightly unwillingly.

‘Thank you.' He followed Libby into the sitting room with Fran bringing up the rear. Sidney ran between his legs and disappeared into the kitchen.

Libby and Fran sat side by side on the sofa and Libby gestured Smith into the chair opposite.

‘So what's all this about?' she asked.

‘First, can I ask why you were talking to DCI Connell?'

‘No, you can't,' snapped Fran. ‘He's a friend of ours.'

‘Ah.' Smith nodded. ‘And he wanted know what sort of trouble you'd got yourselves in to have questions asked by the Met?'

‘Well, yes,' Libby agreed reluctantly.

‘So he told you – what?'

Fran and Libby registered surprise.

‘Nothing. He said there wasn't anything he could tell us,' said Fran.

‘Hmm. When did you see him?'

‘He left about half an hour before you arrived,' said Libby, ‘but really, we do
not
have to answer your questions. This looks a little like harassment, to me.'

Smith sighed and shifted in his chair. ‘I'm sorry. But we're getting nowhere fast out in that God-forsaken place and I needed to ask you some more questions.'

Fran sat up very straight. ‘I would thank you to remember that some of those people out there are our friends, and I'm sure they've answered all the questions you asked them.'

‘I thought you'd only just met them?'

Libby watched Fran's face go pink. ‘That doesn't mean we didn't make friends with them,' she said.

‘Hmm,' said Smith again.

‘Actually,' Libby said, taking a deep breath, ‘DCI Connell was here taking detailed statements from both of us to send you in case you needed to ask anything more. I think he was going to email it to you.'

‘Well, that was very considerate of him, wasn't it? And here I am with all those little questions.'

‘Well, I've got one first,' said Fran. ‘We've told you absolutely everything we know, we helped you search those premises, which I'm pretty sure was illegal and now you're pestering us – with no warning – back at home. By what right are you doing this? If this is an official investigation we should be told.'

Smith looked at her consideringly for a moment.

‘Oh yes,' he said eventually, ‘this is an official investigation. And a serious one. But I came here informally, rather than officially with attendant sidekicks, in order not to alarm you too much. It seems I failed.'

‘You certainly did,' said Libby. ‘All you've done is put our backs up. Now you'd better carry on and tell us what it's all about – although I have a shrewd idea.'

Smith's face showed a flash of anger. ‘What did Connell tell you?'

‘Nothing. We've told you, he said he couldn't.'

Smith sat staring at his shoes until Libby let out a huge sigh and began to fidget.

‘I'm going to have to trust you,' he said at last. ‘I need to know if you could have known Alec Wilson years ago, before he went out to Turkey.'

Of course not,' said Fran. ‘I've never known an Alec Wilson, and from what we could see in the passport photo, he didn't look at all familiar. Did he to you?' She turned to Libby.

‘Same here,' said Libby. ‘And surely we would have told the Jandarma when they first came to speak to us? The only one who recognised him at our hotel was Neal Parnham, and he'd only met Wilson a few days before.' She looked briefly at Fran, then back at Smith. ‘Does this mean Wilson wasn't his real name?'

Smith was watching her carefully. ‘Possibly,' he said.

‘I knew it,' said Libby. ‘Was he a criminal? That's what Neal thought.'

‘And Harry thought he was a spy,' said Fran with a laugh.

‘You're sure none of your party knew him?'

‘As sure as I can be,' said Fran. ‘Libby's known everyone much longer than I have.'

‘I'd know,' said Libby confidently. ‘I've known Ben, Peter, and Harry for twenty years and Guy for at least ten years.'

Smith sighed. ‘I had to be sure.'

Libby frowned. ‘But if that's what you were wondering, surely you'd have looked into our backgrounds thoroughly with all your resources.'

He looked up cheerfully. ‘Oh, I have.'

‘Oh!' said Libby and Fran together, slightly shocked.