Murder in the Dark - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series) (12 page)

‘I know.’ Libby sighed. ‘It was just such a coincidence.’

Ben drove the car to the end of Allhallow’s Lane, took the tree out of the boot and dragged it down the back alley to the back garden of number 17, where Libby had a bucket of water waiting.

‘Now let’s go and see your mum and tell her all about it,’ she said.

Chapter Nineteen

Monday morning, and two weeks since Ramani Oxenford’s body was found, one week since Roland Watson was found in the same state, in the same place. Libby decided to call Adelaide Watson.

‘Hello?’ said a cautious voice.

‘Adelaide? It’s Libby Sarjeant. I was just wondering how you were.’

‘Oh, Libby! Hello. Nice of you to call. I’m bored bloody stiff.’

‘Have they let you go back to London yet?’

‘No! I’m still in Canterbury. I’ve moved to a better hotel, though. Do you want to come over? We could have lunch.’

‘Love to,’ said Libby, thinking quickly, ‘but I was supposed to be meeting Fran.’

‘Can’t you both come?’

‘I’m sure we could.’ Libby awarded herself a pat on the back. ‘What time?’

‘Twelve thirty? Do you know the hotel in the High Street?’

‘Ah. What used to be the County?’

‘Did it? Well, I’ll meet you in reception.’

Libby called Fran.

‘Can you make it? She obviously wants to see us.’

‘And she’s gone up in the world, by the sound of it,’ said Fran.

‘Well, she can afford it, especially now.’

Adelaide, looking less mousey than usual, was waiting for them in the expensive-looking reception area of the hotel.

‘Very nice,’ murmured Libby, looking up at the beams.

‘Oh, the rooms are really modern and tasteful,’ said Adelaide. ‘if I never see another wooden beam in my life, I shan’t be sorry.’

Embarrassed, Libby hustled them out in to the high street. ‘Is your son Julian still with you?’

‘No, he’s gone back to London. They’ve been asking questions about him, you know.’

‘Who have? The police?’ asked Fran.

‘Yes.’ Adelaide made a face. ‘They keep ringing up and saying “Just a few more questions, Mrs Watson.” Honestly – why didn’t they ask them all at the time?’

‘Are they asking about Ramani or Roland?’ asked Libby.

‘Both. And now they’re saying Julian possibly knew Ramani before we did.’

‘How? He hasn’t lived with you since you moved here, has he?’

‘No, but I get the feeling they think he might have met her in London before she and Carl moved here.’

‘Is that where they moved from?’ said Fran.

‘No. Carl’s practice was up north somewhere.’

‘So why –’ began Libby.

‘Oh, I’m sick of talking about it,’ said Adelaide. ‘Where are we going for lunch?’

But she obviously couldn’t stop herself, because by the time they were halfway through their main courses, she was complaining again.

‘And I don’t want to go back there to live, obviously. But they won’t even let me go back to collect clothes! They want me to tell an officer what I want and let her go through my things.’ She sounded indignant.

‘Adelaide,’ said Libby gently, ‘they’ll already have gone through your things.’

Adelaide gasped, went red and then white again.

‘They hadn’t before Roland died, but once he was dead, and his body having been found in the grounds of Dark House, they would have searched every inch.’ She forebore to mention that she and Fran had been searching, too.

‘Don’t they need a search warrant?’ Adelaide found her voice.

‘In those circumstances, I very much doubt it, but one would have been issued as a matter of course,’ said Fran, sounding sure of her ground.

‘I know it’s not nice thinking of people going through your personal things,’ said Libby, ‘and I know I’d be dreadfully embarrassed about it. You should see the state of my wardrobe! But there’s nothing to be worried about. They aren’t judgemental, you know. They won’t imprison you for untidy drawers or an unemptied bin.’

‘But it’s not –’ Adelaide stopped abruptly. After a moment, she went on. ‘Not untidy,’ she finished, unconvincingly.

‘That’s all right then, isn’t it?’ said Libby brightly, trying not to look at Fran.

Adelaide bent to her plate once more.

‘Have you seen Carl?’ asked Fran. ‘How’s he holding up?’

Adelaide’s head shot up again. ‘How should I know?’

‘You haven’t seen him?’ said Libby.

‘No.’ Adelaide almost spat the word. Then, with an obvious effort, she sat back in her chair and re-settled her shoulders. ‘So. Did the police search the house for that treasure? You said they’d asked Lewis Osbourne-Walker to help.’

‘Didn’t they tell you?’ said Fran in surprise. ‘Yes, they did, but they didn’t find anything.’ She looked at Libby. ‘Except the tunnel, of course.’

Adelaide became very still. ‘The tunnel? What tunnel?’

‘From the grotto. It seems to be blocked, but apparently it once went to a pub in Keeper’s Cob and back into your house.’

‘Really. Well, that makes me even more glad I’m not going back there.’ She gave an artistic shudder.

‘What will you do about packing up when the time comes, though?’ said Libby. ‘You’ll have to go back then.’

‘But not overnight.’ This time Adelaide looked genuinely sick. ‘I couldn’t bear it.’

‘Well, if you need someone to go with you, give me a ring,’ said Libby. ‘I’m not far away.’

After lunch, Fran had to get back to Nethergate, but Libby found herself wandering round Canterbury’s shops with Adelaide.

‘You must be bored rigid,’ she said, as they strolled into Waterstones. ‘Have you been reading a lot?’

‘Yes. I’ve got a new tablet, and I’ve been downloading books on there. And films and box sets. It’s great.’ Adelaide picked up a best-seller placed prominently on the table in the front of the shop. ‘Don’t waste my money on print books any more.’

‘Oh,’ said Libby, who did? They eventually found their way to Westgate gardens and found a bench to sit on in the weak winter sun.

‘You’ll be back in London in time for Christmas I expect,’ said Libby, struggling to find topics of conversation now that the murders seemed to be off the agenda.

‘Oh, yes – they wouldn’t be so heartless as to keep me here then. I’ve been doing my present shopping online and having it delivered to Julian.’ She shrugged. ‘He says he doesn’t mind.’

‘That’s good,’ said Libby, and looked at her watch. ‘Well, I have to be going now. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know, and as I said, if you want me to help you pack up at the house, give me a ring.’

And what have I let myself in for there? she thought as she dashed across to the car park.

As soon as she got home, she rang Fran, who was minding the shop while Guy was out on a buying trip.

‘She knew about the tunnel,’ Fran said straight away.

‘I thought so, too. And she’s worried about something the police might find in her things. And what about Carl?’

‘She’s either annoyed because he hasn’t got in touch, or she’s frightened of saying he has.’

‘But which?’

‘Well,’ said Fran, ‘I think we can take it that they are a
lot
closer than anyone thought at first.’

‘When she said they hardly knew one another.’

‘And neither she nor her husband knew Ramani.’

‘And,’ said Libby, ‘what about Julian knowing Ramani?’

‘Yes, that was a surprise. The police must have found something. And she wasn’t very clear about that, either. Carl’s practice was somewhere up north, but Julian met Ramani in London.’

‘Perhaps before she married Carl?’ suggested Libby. ‘We need to find out if Ramani
was
in London. We can ask Edward.’

‘Back on the trail again, then, are we?’ Fran sounded amused. ‘That didn’t take long.’

‘I’m not saying that we’ll find anything out that the police won’t, I’m just interested. And it might be worth telling Ian that Madam thinks there might be something of interest hidden in her things. What do you suppose she means by her “things”?’

‘Clothes? The stuff she brought down with her, or that she left in the house permanently.’

‘Toiletries? Toilet bag? Oh, no, she’d have taken that to the hotel, wouldn’t she?’ Libby frowned at the floor. ‘So it must be something left in the house all the time.

‘Or just hidden in the house. But in that case, why haven’t they found it?’ said Fran.

‘Perhaps they have. Why would we know?’

‘If they found something incriminating, or interesting in some way, they’d have questioned her about it, and they obviously haven’t.’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Libby chewed her lip. ‘How can we find out?’

Fran sighed. ‘Look, against all my inclinations, I’ll get hold of Ian on his official phone and tell him what we think, while you get on to Edward and ask about Ramani’s London connection.’

Before she called Edward in his rather less swanky Canterbury hotel, Libby made herself a cup of tea, then sat down with Sidney on her lap.

‘Edward, it’s Libby. Are you busy?’

‘Not at all, Libby. I’m pleased you called, I’ve just got back from lunch with Andrew Wylie. Isn’t he delightful?’

‘Oh, he did ring you? Good. He was terribly impressed when I mentioned you.’

Edward’s rich laugh rang out. ‘I was impressed by him. And the research he’s done for you.’

‘Oh, the smugglers and the guinea boats? But do you know, all the old local families round here know the stories, too, even though they haven’t got them written down. I was gutted.’

‘That’s often the way,’ said Edward. ‘All historians know the value of oral history.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Libby. ‘Look Edward, I wanted to ask you something. Funnily enough, Fran and I were in Canterbury today, too. We went for lunch with Adelaide Watson.’

‘Did you? That was brave. But Andrew and I went to some country restaurant he knew, not in Canterbury.’

‘Oh, right. Anyway, Adelaide told us that the police have been asking about her son Julian, and she seems to think – well, the police think – that Julian knew Ramani in London. Yet she says Carl’s practice was up north before they moved to Steeple Cross.’

‘Leicester,’ said Edward. ‘Where they met. Then she moved to London and he followed her.’

‘Really? How long ago was that?’

‘Let me see … Ramani wasn’t brilliant at keeping in touch, but we’d meet up if I had to go to London, and the last time was – oh, must have been four, five years ago.’

‘They weren’t married then? I assumed they’d been married longer than that.’

‘They were about to get married. I assumed she wouldn’t want to see me without Carl, but –. Well, let’s just say I was wrong.’

‘Why did she marry him? Although I never met her, it seems such an unlikely partnership.’

‘She was a chameleon. When Carl met her, she was being a serious PhD student, with a serious part-time job. He never saw the other side of her, which was a little wild, to say the least. And when she realised how wealthy he was – ’

‘Wealthy? I didn’t know that.’

‘Oh, yes. Apart from a GP’s salary, which is comfortable, he had money behind him. Beautiful house, up-to-the-minute surgery. We used to tease her about him. You know, the upright, uptight Doctor Oxenford.’

‘So why did she leave him and go to London?’

‘As far as I can tell,’ said Edward slowly, ‘to have a bit of fun and to test him. See if he really wanted to marry her. Which he did. But he wouldn’t move the practice to London, I think because, although she never showed her other side to him, he was probably aware of it, and wanted to get her away from temptation. So he set up down here.’

‘Right.’ Libby was frowning. ‘So you think she might have met Julian in London?’

‘It’s entirely possible. She was very much into the wine bar culture, if that’s what he’s into, too.’

‘He’s in the city,’ said Libby, ‘so yes, he would be. So is he a suspect, do you think?’

‘Obviously, he is, if the police think so.’

‘He said he didn’t recognise the photograph.’

‘Which was of a dead woman in her doctor’s wife persona.’

‘That’s true.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘I wonder if he knew about her and his father?’

‘And if his father knew about him?’

‘Blimey, yes! Well, I suppose that’s a more credible motive than some mythical buried treasure.’

‘So you don’t think there is any?’

Libby sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m still rather inclined to think Roland invented it to grab Ramani’s attention. After all, she was a young woman and he was – well, certainly middle-aged, despite thinking himself irresistible to women.’

It was Edward’s turn to sigh. ‘A wild goose chase, then?’

‘My favourite sort,’ said Libby. ‘I’ve chased more wild geese than you’ve had hot dinners.’

Edward laughed. ‘Talking about dinner, can I take you dinner tonight? You and your – Ben, isn’t it?’

‘Sadly not, Edward. Tonight’s a rehearsal night. Panto, you know.’

‘Did you say “panto”? I love panto.’

‘Really? You don’t strike me as a panto type.’

‘I’ll have you know I was the best baddie in our uni drama society. I was a loathsome King Rat.’

‘Would you like to come and sit in on our rehearsal? It’s a bit rough and ready at the moment, but you’d be welcome if you’re still getting bored in Canterbury.’

‘I’d love to! Shall I come to you first?’

‘No!’ said Libby in alarm. ‘Let me warn them they’ve got a visitor first. Anyway, there’s more parking at the theatre.’

She gave directions, rang off and then called Fran to tell her about the conversation.

‘So Julian’s in the running after all,’ said Fran. ‘He didn’t strike me as the murderous type.’

‘No, but if the police found out he had known Ramani and then lied about it – which he did – he’s bound to be a suspect.’

‘But why would he kill her? She’d already married someone else.’

‘Because he was disgusted about her affair with his father? And then killed his father?’

‘I suppose it’s possible.’ Fran sounded doubtful. ‘And slightly more feasible than buried treasure.’

‘That’s exactly what I said to Edward. Who, by the way, turns out to be a panto fan. He’s coming to watch rehearsal tonight.’

Fran laughed. ‘That I’d like to see!’

‘Well, you can come, if you want.’

‘No, I can’t leave poor Guy on his own yet again. Tell me about it tomorrow.’

The pantomime cast weren’t noticeably enthusiastic about having a guest in the auditorium, especially on hearing he was a top-flight academic, which automatically made him the enemy of some of the younger members.