Murder in the Dark - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series) (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

‘You what?’ Libby gasped.

‘I’m not saying any more over the phone. I’ll see you in half an hour.’

‘But Hetty’s just dishing up lunch!’ wailed Libby.

‘Bloody hell, it’s Sunday,’ said Ian. ‘Oh, all right. An hour then, and we’ll come to The Manor.’

‘We?’

‘I’ll have a sergeant with me, of course. And I’m sure,’ he finished sardonically, ‘that the rest of the party will be on tenterhooks to find out what we’ve been talking about.’

Libby pulled a face at the people round the table. ‘All right. I’m sure Hetty will let us use the drawing room. See you in an hour.’

She relayed what Ian had said while Hetty brought the beef to the table to carve.

‘Treasure?’ said Lenny. ‘What treasure?’

‘We don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘And Ian said “the source of the stories” so it sounds as if there isn’t any. Does anyone mind if I send Fran a text to tell her? Then I promise I’ll turn the phone off.’

Lunch was enlivened, as would be expected, by all sorts of speculations about the treasure. Hetty, Flo and Lenny were filled in regarding Sir Godfrey’s possible hoard and the Napoleonic guineas, the fake insitute and the French prisoners of war. As none of them had come from the area originally, but arrived as hop pickers during the last war, they’d heard nothing of the local stories and were fascinated.

‘Joe at Cattlegreen says we’ve probably got a tunnel under The Manor, Mum,’ said Ben, helping himself to more roast parsnips.

Hetty grunted. ‘Don’t you go diggin’ no holes in my floorboards.’

‘There’s a tunnel under the church,’ said Flo.

They all turned to her. ‘How do you know?’ asked Libby.

‘Go ter church, don’t I? It’s in the booklet. Vicar a few years ago wrote it. Smugglin’, it says.’

‘Yes, that’s it. They must have stored the contraband under the church,’ said Peter. ‘I nearly wrote a play about it once.’

‘Good job you didn’t,’ said Hetty.

‘Oh, don’t remind him,’ said Libby. ‘It’s hardly Pete’s fault that people kill each other off during his plays!’

Ben was pouring them all brandies at the end of the meal when there was a knock at the big oak door.

‘Come in,’ shouted Ben, and Chief Detective Inspector Connell, followed by a still surprised DC Robertson, emerged into the kitchen.

Ian was greeted familiarly by everyone, and Hetty offered coffee.

‘I think we’d better go into the other room, Hetty,’ said Libby. ‘They won’t want to waste time.’

‘I’ll bring coffee in,’ said Ben. ‘Use the office.’

Seated in the office, Libby having allowed Ian to sit in Ben’s chair behind the desk, she explained the situation to DC Robertson. ‘He told you he knew the family, didn’t he? Well, he knows all of us, you see. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been allowed to come and question me, should you, Ian?’ She grinned mischievously. Reluctantly, he smiled back.

‘No, probably I shouldn’t, but as you aren’t a suspect and have been giving me useful information, I think we can overlook it this time.’

Ben arrived with a tray of coffee and quirked an eyebrow at Libby. She shrugged, and he left.

‘Now,’ said Ian, pouring himself a cup, and indicating that DC Robertson should do the same. ‘First of all, I want you to tell me how you first became aware of the stories about the treasure.’

Libby was surprised. ‘But you know all this,’ she said.

‘Indulge me.’

‘OK.’ She frowned. ‘Blimey, it’s quite difficult. We seem to have known about it for ever. Well. The first we heard about it was when Edward arrived. Wasn’t it?’ She looked up at Ian. ‘When he told us that Ramani had told him that there was Civil War treasure buried somewhere inside Dark House.’

‘Yes. Was there any confirmation of that story?’

A cold hand gripped Libby’s stomach. ‘Er, no.’

‘So, what happened next?’

‘Edward looked up the records and came to see me and Fran. That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘Did anyone else say anything about the treasure?’

‘No. But then we went to the church and found Sir Godfrey’s grave, or plaque, whatever it was, and found out when he and his wife Rebecca died.’

‘And then Mr Watson was found dead.’

‘And then you had to authorise the search after he was dead, because you couldn’t get hold of him before.’ Libby was watching Ian closely. ‘You’re not telling me that Edward had something to do with this after all? That he killed Roland in order to search the premises?’

‘I’m not telling you anything,’ said Ian. ‘Go on. When did the story of the Napoleonic treasure arise?’

‘Oh, Lord, I can’t remember! Oh, wait. Yes, I do. Andrew found it, after we asked him to do some research for us.’

‘Dr Hall didn’t find it?’

‘No.’ Libby shook her head emphatically. ‘It isn’t his period, is it?’

‘His university don’t seem to know that he has a speciality,’ said Ian. ‘He’s a history lecturer pure and simple.’

Libby felt a certain amount of relief. At least Edward was a real historian. Perhaps the civil wars were a private obsession.

‘And has Dr Hall had access to Dark House at any time that you know of, other than when you were with him?’

‘Not as far as I know.’ Libby was bewildered. ‘But he does know – well, we both saw Marilyn Fairbrass yesterday. And he’s got a document she gave him that belonged to the previous owner. A descendant of the Wyghtham family.’

‘What document?’

‘I’m not sure. He called Andrew and was going over there last night to see if they could sort it out.’

‘What did it say?’

‘I couldn’t make any of it out, but apparently it said that Sir Godfrey had another wife, Evelyn.’

Ian frowned. ‘Why does that matter?’

‘Because in the church the slab says “his wife Rebecca”. Anyway, it was this document that made old Lady Middleton – you know who she was?’

‘The previous owner.’

‘Well, made her and her daughter, who died years ago – guess where?’

Ian closed his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me. The grotto.’

‘Exactly. Anyway, this mother and daughter both believed that this document, whatever it is, proved there was treasure somewhere in Dark House. Which was why Lady Middleton married her husband, who was living in the house.’

‘And Edward Hall has gone off with this document.’

‘You could check with Andrew,’ suggested Libby. ‘And please tell me why you’re suddenly so interested in Edward?’

‘We’ve been interested in him from the beginning.’ Ian picked up his phone and punched in a number. ‘We’ll see. Ah – Professor Wylie. Yes it’s DCI Connell. Mrs Sarjeant tells me Dr Hall brought a document to you yesterday evening. Oh, you have?’ Ian’s gaze flicked to Libby. ‘Yes, of course. No, that’s fine. As soon as you have.’ He ended the call.

‘Dr Hall left the document with Professor Wylie. As soon as he has something definite, he’ll tell us before he tells Dr Hall.’

‘Did he say if it mentioned treasure?’

‘No.’

‘So why are you interested in Edward? You still haven’t told me. And you’ve been fine about letting him help with the searches and everything.’

‘Easier to keep a check on him if he was with all of you.’

‘But you actually called him in and told him he could have a look at the grotto.’

Ian smiled. ‘And he was just about to go back to London, wasn’t he?’

‘Oh!’ Libby gasped. ‘You wanted to keep him here!’

‘And right under your nose, too. You remember what he said that night in the pub? Hadn’t I ever let something out in front of the wrong person?’

‘And he blushed when you asked him if he was the wrong person.’ Libby shook her head and groaned. ‘Oh, no. I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?’

‘No. Think about it. Was Fran worried?’

‘No. She wanted to come to my house to meet him the first time he came over, to see if he was a suspect, but she said he wasn’t.’

‘He was. But although his main idea was to find a seventeenth-century treasure, he didn’t have anything to do with the murders.’

‘You’ve just led me up the garden path!’ said Libby indignantly.

‘No. We needed to find out – still do – if his main interest was the supposed treasure or simply the evidence.’

‘Do you honestly think he came here to steal it? The treasure, I mean.’

‘I don’t know. It was the coincidence of his turning up after Ramani Oxenford died which was so suspicious.’

‘He thought it was because he was black you took him in,’ said Libby darkly, turning to DC Robertson, who went pink.

‘He has got a bit of a chip on his shoulder about that,’ said Ian. ‘Anyway, we’ll still keep an eye on him. Are you seeing him today?’

‘No idea. I imagine he might stay around while Andrew does his research on the document. And now, please tell me what you meant about the treasure. You said it was urgent.’

Ian leant back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. ‘Johnny Templeton.’

‘Yes. You’ve arrested him. And what has it got to do with Edward?’

‘Nothing, we hope. You’ve just told me that you only found out about the Napoleonic connection from Professor Wylie.’

‘Yes.’

‘We went to talk to John Templeton about the possibility of a different type of treasure.’

‘Why? I don’t understand.’ Libby’s brow was wrinkled.

‘You remember your Institute of Napoleonic Studies? You were right about that scrap having come from one of the online printing companies. His was the name on the order form.’

‘What? That’s nonsense.’

‘It looks like it, doesn’t it?’

‘And this was – when?’

‘Over a year ago.’

Libby gaped. ‘OK. It still doesn’t make sense.’

‘Particularly when you discover that John Templeton has no computer, no smart phone, no modern technology at all, other than a very old mobile phone.’

‘So he couldn’t have ordered it?’

‘He could, using a public computer.’

‘He’d need a credit or debit card.’

‘Indeed. The order at the print company was paid by credit card in his name.’

‘So you arrested him?’

‘We went to talk to him. He wasn’t exactly co-operative, so we took him to the station to help with our enquiries.’

‘Late at night?’

‘No, it was quite early in the evening.’

‘But he didn’t call Mog until after one in the morning.’

‘No, because he was being, as I said, unco-operative. In the end, we decided to keep him and have another go this morning. He asked if he could call someone to let them know where he was.’

‘So what’s his explanation? And why did you want to talk to me about it?’

‘Because we needed to know who knew that there was a possibility of smuggled gold somewhere in Dark House.’

Chapter Thirty-two

‘
Gold?
’ repeated Libby. ‘You mean the Napoleonic guineas?’

Ian nodded. ‘Now, this part is off the record. Robertson, put your notebook away. We searched Templeton’s cottage, which we hadn’t done before, and eventually we found a stack of stationery, all with this fake Institute’s heading. I must say, it looked good. He’d used a very good quality paper.’

‘And what was it for? And why had he used his own credit card?’

‘All he’s said this morning is that it was nothing to do with him. Last night he was considerably under the influence of something, which the doctor confirmed, so it was no wonder he was unco-operative and belligerent.’

‘I thought it always made people rather – well – benign.’

‘Depends on the circumstances. He was fine when we first got there.’

‘So what does it mean?’

‘We aren’t sure, but there was a standard form letter among the stationery informing the addressee that their property was the possible location of a hoard of guineas dating from the Napoleonic wars.’

‘Which addressee? Who?’

‘I just said,’ explained Ian patiently, ‘it’s a form letter. Something that could be sent out to many.’

‘And it was sent to the Watsons?’

‘I’m not saying that. We’ve looked at the credit card account that was used to buy the stuff, and it’s only ever been used for that one transaction. The card account was one of those that could be opened online, and the security doesn’t appear to have been that tight. The account was paid off with cash over a bank counter. It looks as though Templeton was used by whoever initiated the scam, or whatever it is, but without his own bank account being compromised, so it may not come to light.’

‘Sneaky. So he’s nothing to do with it, as he said?’

‘Not quite,’ said Ian. ‘But he’s storing the evidence. And he won’t say who told him to.’

Libby frowned. ‘Presumably it was delivered to him? So he really might not know who did it. And they could have kept him quiet by some sort of blackmail? He looks as if he might have something dodgy in his past.’

‘It’s a possibility. But you see why I had to know who knew about the smuggled gold in the area. I had to know if Edward Hall knew.’

‘It’s even more puzzling now. The local families – the old ones – they knew. And I would have thought a historian would know. Andrew probably knew but hadn’t connected it up. Edward didn’t seem to know at all. And I’d swear he didn’t know anything about the fake Institute.’

‘Thanks for your help.’ Ian put his coffee cup back on the tray. ‘You’ll also be glad to know that we went to have a chat with Mrs Watson this morning.’

‘At Carl Oxenford’s house?’

‘Yes, although he tried to tell us she wasn’t there.’

‘Have they been having an affair?’

‘It would appear so, but for how long we don’t know. Neither of them is being very forthcoming about it.’

‘Did she say anything about the Institute? That’s what you were going to ask her, wasn’t it?’

‘She’d never heard of it, and didn’t recognise the piece of envelope. She knows nothing about Napoleonic gold, smugglers or civil wars, according to her. History has no interest for her. As for Doctor Oxenford, he just looked bemused about the whole thing.’

‘What about this false practice of his, though?’

‘I did just touch on that,’ said Ian, with a grin, ‘but he simply looked mournful and said it hadn’t worked out. All the villagers were registered with a practice at Steeple Mount and didn’t want to change.’

‘So how come the Watsons were his patients? Were they private?’

‘I don’t know. And we’ve enough to do trying to work out who knew, or thought they did, about the so-called treasure and who would have murdered for it.’

‘Are we allowed to talk to Edward?’

‘I’m going to see him now. He’s expecting us at the pub. After that, yes.’

‘And what about Johnny and the Institute?’

‘We can’t hold him. And there was nothing else at his house to suggest that he was involved in anything more than looking after the stationery and purchasing it. If he did. We will look into the blackmail aspect, of course.’

‘And do you think it might lead to the murderer?’ Libby stood up.

‘As I said as soon as we heard about it, just the rumour of it might be enough, if someone thought it was worth it.’ Ian went to the door and DC Robertson held it open. ‘I’ll just say goodbye to the family.’

‘So,’ said Peter, as soon as they’d seen the two policemen off the premises. ‘What was that all about?’

‘I think we ought to help Hetty clear the table and let her have a rest,’ said Libby diplomatically. ‘She won’t want us sitting round her table holding her up.’

Hetty stood up. ‘Come on, then. Just get the plates in the dishwasher. I’ll do the pots meself.’

When the big kitchen was suitably tidied, Peter, Adam, Ben and Libby said their farewells and left Hetty, Flo and Lenny sitting round the fire in the drawing room.

‘Come back to ours,’ said Peter. ‘Hal should be back by now. Coming, Adam?’

‘Thanks, but I’m going out later. I’ll call you, Ma. I need to know about Johnny.’

‘He’s OK. They’re going to let him go,’ said Libby. ‘But he’s still got questions to answer. Not directly about the murders, though.’

Adam looked relieved. He kissed Libby’s cheek and loped off to the flat above The Pink Geranium.

Harry had already prepared his drinks tray when Peter let them in to the cottage. Libby slumped in her favourite chair and accepted a whisky.

‘Sunday seems to be a day of drink after drink,’ she said sipping appreciatively.

‘Come on, then, what’s going on,’ said Harry, sitting beside Peter on the sofa and swinging his legs onto his partner’s lap. ‘I need to know.’

Libby related everything that had happened that day. ‘So as far as I can make out, Ian’s now following a trail that someone was out to – oh, I don’t know – con people into thinking they had a hoard of Napoleonic gold in their house.’

‘Why?’ Harry looked puzzled.

‘To gain access for burglary?’ suggested Ben. ‘That would be the most obvious thing.’

‘But they were looking into a civil war hoard,’ said Libby. ‘I know we only got that from Edward, who now seems to be a most suspicious character, but the Rev. Toby confirmed it when he told us Ramani went in looking for Sir Godfrey’s tomb.’

‘This credit card business,’ said Peter thoughtfully. ‘How much do you think Templeton was involved?’

‘I don’t think he was, really. I think someone borrowed his identity to get a card and have a delivery address for the stationery,’ said Libby.

‘In that case, he must have had some knowledge of it.’

‘Because of the stuff being delivered?’

‘Yes. And who would know enough about him to get the credit card?’

‘We don’t know, do we?’ said Libby. ‘We don’t know anything about his social circle. He doesn’t drink in The Dragon, but I bet he’s known in The Feathers.’

‘The Feathers?’ said Harry.

‘The pub in Keeper’s Cob. It’s a dive. Lewis said not to go near it, but Fran and I did go in there a couple of weeks ago when we got lost. The tunnel that leads away from Dark House under the grotto goes to Keeper’s Cob, which borders the end of the estate, and we’ve made the assumption it comes up to the pub.’

‘So if Templeton drinks in there he’s likely to have fairly unsavoury connections?’ said Peter.

‘You’re making a lot of assumptions here,’ said Ben.

‘I know.’ Libby sighed. ‘We can’t really know, can we?’

‘And this letter. You think it was sent to the Watsons?’ said Peter.

‘That’s what I think,’ said Libby. ‘And it makes sense. If Roland received that letter, he would immediately want to look for it. And, depending on whether he’d already started his affair with Ramani, he would either use the knowledge to tempt her or ask for her help.’

‘Why did she go and look for that tomb, though, or whatever it was?’ asked Harry.

‘And why did she tell Edward there was Civil War treasure buried there? And when?’ said Peter.

‘Golly,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t know.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘I assume it must have been not long before she died, or Edward would have got in touch before.’

‘You are the only person I know who says “Golly”,’ said Harry. ‘I feel I ought to be serving you lashings of ginger beer.’

‘Did you know she never actually wrote that?’ said Libby. ‘It was from
Five Go Mad In Dorset
, the Comic Strip film.’

‘Was it?’ Harry turned to Peter. ‘Have I seen that?’

Peter patted his arm. ‘I’ll find it on DVD for you. You’ll love it.’

‘This is all speculation,’ said Ben.

‘About the Famous Five?’ said Libby.

‘About Edward, Templeton and everything else. You don’t actually know anything.’

‘No, I know.’ Libby sighed. ‘But all this has put a whole new slant on things. I really wish I could talk to Edward, now. I need to know if he’s trustworthy, or a criminal.’

‘Tell you what,’ said Harry, swinging his legs off Peter’s lap. ‘Why don’t we ask him here this evening?’

‘What?’ said three voices together.

‘I could do a little snacky supper. We could be saving him from another lonely evening in the pub. If he accepts, it probably means he’s kosher. If he doesn’t – well.’

‘Or, if he’s been hauled off to the nick,’ said Ben with a grin.

‘What do you think, Pete?’ said Libby. ‘It’s your house, and your evening off with Hal.’

Peter shrugged. ‘I’m fine with it. If Hal wants to get back in the kitchen on his night off.’

‘I’ve got another night off tomorrow.’ Harry beamed. ‘Go on, Lib. Ring him.’

‘Ian might still be with him,’ demurred Libby.

‘Send him a text, then,’ said Ben.

Libby laboriously sent a text to Edward’s number, and put the phone on the coffee table.

‘Well, now we wait,’ said Peter.

‘And if we don’t hear in the next – what? Hour?’ said Harry.

‘We’ll go home and normal service will be resumed,’ said Ben.

‘Meanwhile, you can carry on dicussing who might be the murderer,’ said Peter. ‘Tell us more about the enigmatic Mrs Fairbrass, Lib.’

‘I must say, it came as a bit of a surprise. She’s not exactly a housekeeper and turns out to be the beneficiary of the last owner of Dark House.’

‘And knew all about the supposed treasure,’ said Harry. ‘I told Peter all about it this morning before he went up to The Manor.’

‘Well, I did recap for the benefit of Hetty, Flo and Lenny,’ said Libby. ‘It’s that document I’m worried about now.’

‘Andrew’s got it, didn’t you say?’ said Ben.

‘Yes. Ian called him and he said Edward had left it with him.’

‘That doesn’t sound as though he’s a crook, does it?’ said Harry. ‘And I liked him, anyway.’

‘Just as well,’ said Libby, as her phone told her there was a message. She read it and grinned. ‘Because Edward’s looking forward to coming here this evening!’