Murder in the Dark - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series) (13 page)

However, he slipped in so quietly that no one saw or heard him until his spontaneous applause at the end of one the comedy set pieces. Libby turned and gave him a thumbs-up, then waved at her performers to carry on.

‘It’s excellent,’ he said when they broke for coffee. ‘Even now. How many of them are professional?’

‘Lots of ex-pros,’ said Libby, ‘including me. The dancers aren’t in yet. They’re senior students from a local stage school.’

‘And I love your theatre. Is it council-owned?’

Libby grinned. ‘No, it’s ours.’

‘Yours?’

‘It’s owned by Ben and his mother. Ben is – or was – an architect, so he turned it into a theatre, and Peter – that’s Peter, over there – is his cousin, so he and I became directors of the company. We put on what we like, but have to keep it solvent, so we hire out to other companies. We’re lucky that we have a good deal of local talent to draw on, and our sound and lighting people are all professional.’

‘I’m impressed, for the second time today,’ said Edward, turning on the spot to look up at the sound and lighting box at the top of its spiral staircase.

‘Well, while you’re in a good mood,’ said Libby, ‘can I ask you something?’

Edward looked down at her, his white smile splitting his face.

‘Yes, you can, yes, I know what it is, and yes.’

Libby smiled doubtfully. ‘You really know what I was going to say?’

‘Our conversation earlier surely gave you the answer?’

‘In a way,’ said Libby in confusion. ‘But I didn’t want to speculate …’

‘At university, I was one of Ramani’s sexual partners. When she moved to London it continued when I visited. But it was always very casual, because Ramani was like that. Nothing serious.’

‘Except for Carl.’

‘Even that wasn’t serious for her. Yes, she married him, but that was for his money. She had no intention, as far as I could see, of being faithful to him. In fact, I’d be very surprised if there weren’t more men to crawl out of the woodwork.’

‘Really?’ Libby’s eyes widened. ‘So there could be loads of new suspects?’

‘I don’t know about loads.’ Edward put his coffee mug down. ‘Or any that would have killed Roland Watson, too.’

Edward was introduced to Peter and Harry in the pub, and Harry flirted outrageously.

‘Don’t take any notice,’ said Libby, ‘he only does it to draw attention to himself.’

‘I must say, I like your friends.’ Edward leant back in his chair and stretched long legs out in front of him, looking a little like a black Peter. ‘I wish I’d stayed here instead of Canterbury.’

‘You could always move from the hotel into the pub,’ said Harry.

‘No,’ said Edward with a sigh. ‘I’ve got to get back home. There’s no reason for me to stay down here any more, unless the police really have got me on their radar.’

‘They’ve not come near you apart from to ask your advice,’ said Libby, ‘so I don’t think they have. Must you go?’

‘I must. Life goes on, although it’s now the Christmas vacation, I still have work to do. And then, there’s Christmas.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ groaned Libby.

‘But you will keep in touch and let me know what happens, won’t you? I’m still going to look into Godfrey Wyghtham. He’s going into the book.’

‘The book?’ several voices echoed in surprise.

‘Didn’t I tell you? That was why Ramani told me about the house. I’m writing a book on the lesser known figures and aspects of the civil wars.’

‘So you see,’ said Libby, on the phone to Fran the following morning, ‘there’s every reason to keep in touch with Edward, and every reason to look into Ramani’s private life to see if any more men creep out, as Edward put it, of the woodwork.’

‘I rather suspect the police are already doing that,’ said Fran, ‘especially since they’ve turned up Julian Watson.’

‘Oh, dear, poor old Carl.’

‘Unless he killed her.’

‘Oh, well, that, of course. But it must be hell, having your dead wife’s lovers dragged out in front of you.’

‘It must, yes. But I think we’ve gone as far as we can at the moment, don’t you? There’s no one else we can talk to – or no one who would talk to us, anyway.’

‘S’pose so. Pity though.’

‘I know, you’ll be bored. I bet you, though, that something will turn up and set you off again.’

‘Is that a feeling in your water?’

‘You could say that,’ said Fran, and rang off.

In fact, two things turned up that very afternoon, while Libby was making a first effort with the Christmas cards, helped at intervals by Sidney.

Libby snatched up the phone as soon as it began to ring.

‘Libby, you said you’d help me pack up some things at the house?’ said Adelaide.

‘Yes,’ said Libby cautiously.

‘Well, they’re letting me go back in tomorrow. Could you come with me?’

‘Does that mean it’s no longer a crime scene?’

‘I don’t know, do I? They just said I could go back and collect stuff, and they’re letting me go back to London.’

‘Oh, you will be relieved,’ said Libby. ‘And can you put the house on the market yet?’

‘I don’t know that, either, all I know is I can get out. Will you come?’

‘Yes, of course. What time?’

They settled on meeting at Dark House at ten thirty. Libby had just gone to put on the kettle to aid concentration on the Christmas cards, when the phone rang again.

‘Libby? It’s Edward.’

‘You sound excited. Have you left yet?’

‘No, I haven’t, and yes, I’m excited. I checked out of the hotel this morning, and decided as a courtesy I ought to let the police know I was going, and where. And your Inspector Connell asked to see me.’

‘Golly, did he? Did he clap on the irons?’

‘What? No, of course not! No, he invited me to go and see the tunnel under the grotto!’

‘He did what?’ said Libby, stunned.

‘The tunnel! Under the grotto. He’s asking Lewis, too, and he also said he supposed you and Fran would have to come along.’

‘Oh, nice! But it’s great news. Did you get anything out of him about the actual investigation?’

‘No, but I guess the tunnel’s been cleared, or they wouldn’t let us down there.’

‘True. So when is this supposed to be happening?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Ah.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘Well, I shall be there from half past ten anyway, as Adelaide wants me to help her pack up her things. I don’t actually think that will take that long, as she doesn’t seem to want much out of the house, just her clothes and personal belongings. All this sounds as though they’ve cleared the whole place, doesn’t it?’

‘It does, but that’s a bit odd, isn’t it? After all, the grotto was where both the bodies were found.’

‘But perhaps not where they were killed,’ said Libby.

Leaving Edward to make arrangements about the tunnel tour, she booked him a room , at his request, at the pub, and a table at The Pink Geranium.

‘So he hasn’t gone after all,’ said Harry. ‘I knew my charms would have an effect.’

‘You leave him alone. He’s as straight as – well, a straight thing. And very sexy.’

‘Ooh, I know dear.’ Libby heard Harry’s artistic shudder. ‘Shall you allow him to eat here alone at my mercy, or are you going to join him?’

‘No, I can’t do Pink Geranium twice in a few days.’

‘I don’t see why not. I have to.’

Libby laughed. ‘I’ll see what Ben says.’

Fran rang a little later.

‘So we’re all going back to Dark House tomorrow, then? See, I told you something would turn up.’

‘I think they’re going to need your particular expertise,’ said Libby.

‘In the grotto? I agree,’ said Fran. ‘In fact, I’m almost sure that’s why Ian’s suggested this trip.’

‘Are you? You mean, sure, sure? As in you absolutely know?’

‘I think Ian wants to know where they were killed. And it wasn’t in the grotto.’

Chapter Twenty

Ben was only too happy to eat at The Pink Geranium again, and at eight o’clock he and Libby joined Edward on the sofa in the window.

‘Fran says she thinks Ian – Chief Inspector Connell – is hoping she’ll come up with something tomorrow.’ Libby helped herself to wine.

‘What – you mean using her – um …’ Edward trailed off.

‘Yes,’ said Libby bending on him a minatory look.

‘It’s absolutely true,’ said Ben, looking amused. ‘I first met her when she was actually employed by a company of prestigious estate agents –’

‘Goodall and Smythe,’ put in Libby, and saw Edward’s eyebrows go up.

‘– to scope out properties for anything that might have occurred in the past that would affect a sale.’

‘I’ve never heard of that,’ said Edward.

‘I hadn’t, either, but in fact, Fran nosed out a body for them in one place. And there were a couple of other instances where she was successful.’

‘So now she helps the police as an expert witness,’ said Libby. ‘And you can scoff all you like, but it’s worked several times. I mean, she’s even discovered murder where a natural death had occurred.’

‘The trouble is,’ said Ben, ‘she can’t do it to order. And she’s out of practice. When she worked for Goodall and Smythe it was routine to go into properties with an open mind regularly, but she’s not required to do that now, so that part of her brain stays switched off.’

‘Except when it breaks through with something startling, like it did with the St Aldeberge murders,’ said Libby.

‘The – what?’ Edward was looking, horrified, between the two of them.

Libby grinned and patted his hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. We’re used to it. I ought to write all the cases up one day, I suppose. People might want to read about them.’

Edward took a large gulp of wine. ‘I know I said I liked your friends, but if you keep getting mixed up in murders, I’m not sure any more!’

‘But that’s why we’re involved this time,’ said Libby. ‘It’s because it’s happened before that we get asked to look into things. Adelaide asked us, although I’m not sure she’s pleased about that, now.’

‘To be fair, you were already on the periphery,’ said Ben, ‘with Adam being on the spot when the first body was found.’

‘Adam?’ said Edward.

‘That’s Adam,’ said Libby.

‘Hello,’ said Adam. ‘I’m Libby’s son. How do you do?’

Edward, bemused, reached out to shake Adam’s hand. ‘And how –?’

‘Was he on the spot? Come on, order your meal and I’ll explain,’ said Libby. Which she did while they waited for Adam to bring their food.

‘Well,’ said Edward when she’d finished. He looked at Ben. ‘Did you know all this would happen when you first met Libby?

Ben laughed. ‘Oh, we met years and years ago when we were both married to other people. We hadn’t seen one another for a long time until the theatre brought us together. With a murder, of course.’

Edward shook his head. ‘I’m not sure it’s safe being friends with you.’

‘Oh, you’re safe enough,’ said Libby. ‘It’s when we
don’t
like you that the problems start.’

Harry and Peter joined them at the end of the meal and Harry offered brandies on the house.

‘I can see that you’re well on the way to becoming one of our happy band,’ he said, handing Edward a brandy balloon. ‘Waifs, strays and misfits, the lot of us.’

‘And what, exactly, does that mean?’ asked Libby.

‘Libby’s Loonies,’ grinned Harry. ‘Think about it. Pete and me, your mate Patti and her Anne, Fran, all Ben and Pete’s mad family …’

‘Don’t take any notice, Edward,’ said Libby. ‘I told you yesterday, he’s just trying to attract attention.’

Edward laughed. ‘I don’t think I’d mind being one of Libby’s Loonies. In fact, I might be honoured.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ said Libby darkly. ‘We haven’t seen the end of this investigation. You’ll probably be glad to scuttle off back to – actually, I don’t know where you’ll scuttle off to.’

‘Oh, I’m still in Leicester at the moment, but I’m a visiting lecturer. I need to find a proper home.’

‘Aren’t you a proper professor, then?’ asked Libby. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit ignorant about academia.’

‘I’m an assistant professor. I need tenure – that is, as I said, a proper home. I’ve already published a fair body of work, and this book – if it ever gets published – should be the finishing touch, and I can apply for full professorships.’

‘Just like an ordinary job, then?’ said Libby.

‘Except that it takes rather longer to qualify,’ said Edward.

‘Well,’ said Libby, ‘here’s to you finding a full professorship in Kent. Then we could borrow you whenever we like.’

‘You’ve already got Andrew doing your historical donkey work,’ said Ben. ‘Leave the poor man alone.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind,’ said Edward. ‘Even if I don’t get a post in Kent.’

‘And meanwhile, you’ve got an exciting little adventure tomorrow,’ said Harry. ‘So, cheers.’

Wednesday morning was back to misty and frosty. Libby drove carefully along Dark Lane, trying to ignore the trees pressing in on her left and the wavering shapes looming on her right. She turned on to the forecourt of Dark House with a sigh of relief.

Adelaide opened the door before she’d got out of the car.

‘Did you know all your friends are coming to look at the tunnel?’ she asked without preamble.

‘Yes,’ said Libby. ‘I’m going, too.’

‘But you’re here to help me.’ Adelaide’s chin went up.

‘Adelaide, did you ever wonder about the reason for your rather unpleasant assumption of superiority?’ asked Libby conversationally, as she pushed past Adelaide into the main hall.

‘What do you mean?’ Adelaide’s voice went up an octave and Libby turned to face her.

‘I mean – you have taken advantage of me from the moment I came over here – at your request, I may add – when Ramani’s body was found. I have offered to help, you have asked for help and help both Fran and I have tried to give. In return, you’ve lied to us and treated us, particularly me, like servants. So why is it? You came across when I first met you as rather a mousy woman, intimidated by her husband.’

‘I was.’ Adelaide now adopted a mulish expression.

‘I know, anyone would have been. But since then, presumably because he is no more and you found out more about him anyway, you’ve become seriously arrogant and complaining. So you can get on with packing your things on your own. I’m going outside to wait for the grotto party.’

Adelaide stepped forward, her expression now anxious.

‘Oh, Libby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that. I really don’t want to do this on my own, and you’ve been so kind.’

Libby looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sure. If you tell me why you lied, and what about …’

Adelaide looked away, and Libby watched a tide of pink wash up her neck. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Well, it does, obviously. I mean, was I there on that first night as a witness to your conversation with Carl, to see that you didn’t know him or his wife well?’ This had only just occurred to Libby, and she was rather proud of it.

Adelaide opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Libby realised she’d been right. She nodded.

‘That was why you switched to speakerphone, wasnʼt it? I thought that was rather an odd thing to do.ʼ She waited for a reply, which didnʼt come. ʻSo, where are your clothes? Come on, if I’m going to help, I’d rather get on with it.’

Adelaide looked back in surprise, but without saying a word, turned and went up the stairs to the main bedroom, where Libby and Fran had been last week.

‘The police have been in here,’ she said. ‘You were right. All I want is the stuff from the drawers and the wardrobe.’

Libby picked up a black plastic sack. ‘In these?’

Adelaide shrugged. ‘I couldn’t go back and get cases.’

‘Right, I’ll start on the wardrobe, and you can tell me all about just how well you really knew Carl and Ramani.’

Adelaide stared at her, then slowly opened a drawer in the dressing table and began taking things out before throwing them on to the bed.

‘I told you before. I saw Roland and Ramani together.’

‘Yes, you told me eventually. What you haven’t told anybody is how well you knew Carl. Julian said he was around when Roland went away.’

Adelaide gasped, her hand going to her throat. ‘That’s not true!’

‘Unethical, certainly,’ said Libby with a grin. ‘You were his patient, weren’t you? Still are, I expect.’

‘We were friends,’ muttered Adelaide. ‘That’s all. Ramani used to go off to London and Roland to Brussels. And neither of us knew anyone else.’

‘And when Roland and Ramani were at home?’

‘Then we didn’t see much of them. Well, Ramani not at all. I told you that.’

‘Was Carl disappointed that she wouldn’t stay down here?’

‘I think so. He wanted to get her away from London, I know that.’

‘Yes, I heard that.’

‘How?’ Now Adelaide sat on the bed and just stared.

‘Edward Hall, of course. He’s known her longer than anyone else.’

‘I wonder why he isn’t the chief suspect, then,’ said Adelaide venomously.

‘The little matter of an unbreakable alibi.’

‘They can always be broken.’

‘Not when it’s a live television programme.’ Libby crossed her fingers behind her back.

‘Oh. But when? They say they don’t know exactly when she – Ramani – died.’

‘On the Sunday night, live from somewhere up north.’ Bugger, why had she started this lie?

‘He could have flown down.’

‘Not at night.’

‘Hmm.’ Adelaide stood up and went back to the dressing table.

‘So when did you start to spend so much time in London?’ Libby started pulling things off hangers.

‘When Roland spent more and more time abroad. And – ’ Adelaide stopped abruptly.

‘And Ramani began spending more time in Steeple Cross?’

Adelaide turned her back and Libby grinned. Right again, Mrs Sarjeant.

So Carl was using Adelaide to keep him warm at night when Ramani went off on her own. Was that before Roland started seeing Ramani? And was Roland the reason Ramani began to spend more time in Steeple Cross? And was any of this a motive for double murder? Libby sighed and stuffed another coat into her sack.

After another half an hour most of the drawers and all the wardrobe had been cleared.

‘You start taking the bags downstairs,’ said Libby, breaking the half-hour-long silence. ‘I’ll finish the shelves.’

Adelaide shot her a look, but picked up two bags and left the room. Libby began methodically to check the shelves and drawers, finding odd buttons, safety pins and a grubby cotton bud. And the corner of a brown envelope.

She was just about to throw it into the bin that they’d been using for rubbish, when something caught her eye.

‘Oh, this is just too ridiculously like a detective story,’ she muttered to herself, nevertheless going to the window and holding the paper closer.

Printed in the corner of the envelope were the words “Institute of Napoleonic Studies”.