Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) (22 page)

‘
S
o does that leave us any further on?’ asked Libby, when David had gone, with assurances that they would tell him anything they thought he ought to know in the future.

‘It’s become a possibility that both Cornelia and Estelle knew about the stolen reliquary from Uncle Edgar,’ said Ian.

‘But they were only little girls! He wouldn’t have told them,’ said Libby.

‘Simply because of that,’ said Ian. ‘Can’t you see a slightly disreputable uncle showing his little nieces a secret? They’d have loved that. And when he sold it he disappeared off to the Caribbean and became even more romantic in their eyes.’

‘Hmm. And when they grew up they realised what had really happened?’

‘Maybe not until the reliquary came on the market,’ said Ian.

‘So it begins to look as if Estelle is the murderer?’ said Ben.

‘Except that David said Estelle didn’t seem interested in Cornelia. Wouldn’t she be worried that Cornelia would point the finger if she recovered?’ said Libby.

‘She was wearing the missing robe, we think,’ said Ian. ‘Perhaps she was sure she wouldn’t be recognised.’ He frowned. ‘It doesn’t ring true to me, though.’

‘Who else could it be, though?’ said Libby. ‘Are there any other suspects you haven’t told us about?’

‘Yes, there are,’ said Ian with a laugh. ‘But all boring ones as far as you’re concerened.’

‘What do you mean, boring?’

‘Debtors, mainly. He was in with some very nasty people.’

‘But could they have got down here and into the monastery?’ said Ben. ‘Unlikely, surely?’

‘Very,’ said Ian. ‘But there is one other, of course.’

‘Who?’

‘David himself.’

Libby’s mouth dropped open.

‘Didn’t you believe him?’ asked Ben.

‘I think a lot of what he said was true. But don’t you wonder just a little about his rather urgent wish to see his estranged wife?’

‘The recognition thing, again,’ said Libby. ‘So what did he lie about?’

‘Only hearing about the case after it had happened,’ said Ian. ‘Everything else is substantially correct, I expect. It still doesn’t explain Estelle’s actions, though.’

‘Oh, but it does!’ said Libby. ‘She’s discovered what’s going on and is in hiding from him. That’s why she didn’t go back to his cottage to collect her washing!’

‘Possible,’ said Ian. ‘We just need to find her – not least because she may have put you in hospital, Ben.’

‘Couldn’t that have been David, too?’ said Libby.

‘Why would he need to get into the theatre? He’s been perfectly safe in his cottage.’

‘Oh – yes.’ Libby’s face fell. ‘Still, it’s a good theory about Estelle, isn’t it?’

‘It is.’ Ian smiled and got to his feet. ‘Thanks for arranging this evening. If we’ve started a hare, so much the better.’

‘I’ve just realised,’ said Libby, as she accompanied him to the door, ‘we all referred to her as Cornelia. No one mentioned Martha. Does he still not know?’

‘If he does, he was being very careful not to admit it. Now don’t worry about it any more, Libby. Go and look after Ben. Not that he looks as if he needs it.’

‘He doesn’t,’ said Libby. ‘I’d say he was a fraud if it wasn’t for how much he worried me last night.’

‘I heard that,’ said Ben, as she went back into the living room. ‘I shall now demand a whisky.’

‘Should you?’ said Libby doubtfully.

‘Yes, I should, and so should you. And after that, we should have an early night.’

On Saturday morning, Libby decided to go to the Abbey during their open hours and see if it would be possible to see Martha.

‘Don’t tell her anything, though,’ said Ben. ‘You don’t want to upset any apple carts.’

‘I know,’ said Libby, ‘but last time I saw her I felt sure there was something she wasn’t telling me. If I could get her to open up it could be the answer.’

Sister Catherine was delighted to see her, but confessed she was worried about Martha.

‘I know the police are happy for her to be here,’ she said, as she led Libby into a part of the Abbey she’d not seen before, ‘but she seems to be scared all the time. I’ve told her no one can get at her here, but it hasn’t made any difference.’

‘Is it her husband? Does she know he’s around?’

‘I don’t think so. Honestly Libby, I’m really quite worried about her.’ Sister Catherine shook her head. ‘I wish I didn’t feel this was all my fault.’

‘Oh, don’t Cathy,’ said Libby, involuntarily. ‘Oh – sorry.’

‘That’s all right, Libby.’ Catherine patted her arm. ‘You’re a friend. Here we are.’

She knocked on a door and stuck her head round. ‘Libby Sarjeant’s here to see you, Martha.’

Libby was pleased to see Martha’s face light up as she entered the room.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked after bending to kiss Martha’s cheek. ‘I see you’re up and about now.’

Martha was sitting in a chair by the window, which looked out over what was obviously a private courtyard. Two of the sisters were sitting on stone benches.

‘Yes, I’m fine, now. I ought to be back at work.’ Martha’s eyes slid to the sisters. ‘I should be helping.’

‘Better that you should be completely well first, though,’ said Libby.

‘Yes.’ Martha looked thoughtful. ‘So, is there any more news about the murder?’

‘Not really,’ said Libby. ‘Not directly.’

‘Directly? What do you mean?’

‘I mean nothing that points to Dominic’s murderer.’

‘But something else?’ Martha’s eyes were wide – with fear?

‘Background stuff, I think,’ said Libby. ‘Martha – what are you afraid of? No one can get at you in here. No one even knows where you are except me and the police.’

‘I know.’ Martha looked at the floor. ‘But I keep thinking …’ she looked up and her eyes went out of focus.

‘You’re reliving that moment, aren’t you?’ said Libby gently. ‘It isn’t because you’ve remembered something about who hit you?’

‘No,’ Martha said quickly.

‘Well, never mind. I’m sure it will get easier. I must tell you about the show – it’s going so well. Susannah’s a brilliant accompanist and –’ she stopped and recovered herself, ‘everyone’s remembered their songs and sketches really well from the last time we did Music Hall.’

‘I’m sure she has remembered something, though,’ Libby told Fran later on the phone, having brought her up to date on the events of yesterday evening.

‘And she’s scared,’ said Fran.

‘Yes. You don’t suppose she thinks she was attacked by a – a – a supernatural thing, do you? St Eldreda come to life or something?’

‘It’s possible, I suppose. That bright light I saw – if that’s what she saw, maybe that’s exactly what she thinks.’

‘And she’s scared because she feels she’s being punished – but what for? She protected the reliquary.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Fran. ‘Not being religious I can’t get inside the workings of her mind. But I won’t scoff.’

‘Good.’ Libby yawned. ‘I don’t seem to have slept much over the past couple of days. I might have a nap this afternoon.’

‘You’re getting old,’ laughed Fran. ‘Let me know if anything else happens.’

Ben appeared from the kitchen.

‘Let’s be all normal,’ he said, ‘and go and have a lunchtime drink.’

‘Then I really will have a nap this afternoon,’ said Libby.

Several members of the theatre company were in the pub, and all wanted to know how Ben was and what had really happened. He basked in the attention for a while, then pleaded exhaustion and steered Libby to a quiet table.

‘That was a bit too normal,’ he said. ‘I suppose, actually, I do still feel a bit shaky.’

Libby looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I’m not surprised. Martha’s not back to normal yet and she was hit weeks ago.’

‘She was in a coma, though. Hers was more serious than mine.’

‘Hmm. But to all outward appearances she’s better. So if she’s still claiming illness it must mean she’s scared of something. I asked her this morning.’

‘Wasn’t that risky?’ said Ben.

‘I don’t think so.’ Libby shrugged. ‘I was trying to be reassuring, telling her no one can get at her in the Abbey. Which, if she’s shamming, she knows perfectly well. So she’s hiding.’

‘You don’t know that,’ said Ben. ‘And wouldn’t she have told the police if she was afraid of someone?’

Libby repeated the supernatural theory. Ben laughed.

‘I don’t think so, do you? Really?’

‘Not really, but she does seem a bit strange. Not like she was during the play. She was perfectly normal then.’

‘We’re back to “normal” are we? So do you think I’m going to be a bit peculiar when I’ve recovered from my bump?’

Libby grinned at him. ‘I shall make no comment!’

They finished their drinks and Libby deemed it safer to leave after one, as Ben was looking tired and pale. Once home, she packed him off to bed and went back downstairs to have the nap she’d promised herself.

The phone woke her an hour later.

At first there was nothing.

‘Hello?’ repeated Libby irritably.

‘Libby – I’ve remembered.’ Martha’s voice almost whispered. ‘What shall I do?’

‘You’ve remembered who attacked you?’ Libby shot upright.

‘S-sort of. What shall I do?’

‘Call the police, straight away. Have you got the number?’

‘No. Could you do it for me?’

‘That wouldn’t really –’

‘Please.’ Martha’s voice broke. ‘I’m so scared.’

‘Yes, I know. Who was it then?’ Libby held her breath.

‘No, I can’t tell you. I’ll tell the police.’

‘All right. Stay where you are. Someone will come back to you as soon as possible.’

Libby ended the call and rang Ian’s personal mobile.

‘Who is it?’ he said, when Libby relayed Martha’s message.

‘She wouldn’t tell me. I said someone would be back to her as soon as possible.’

‘Where is she?’

Libby was surprised. ‘At the Abbey, I suppose. She was there this morning, too scared to go out.’

‘Right. We’re on our way. Will you call the Abbey and warn them?’

‘If they aren’t praying,’ said Libby.

She rang the number Sister Catherine had given her, and was relieved when the nun herself answered.

‘The police are going to arrive to talk to Martha again,’ she said. ‘Will you be in the chapel?’

‘Not until Vespers,’ said Catherine. ‘I’ll fetch Martha to the front office, then they won’t have to disturb anyone. What’s it about?’

‘She rang me and asked me to tell the police she’d remembered. She wouldn’t tell me any more.’

‘Oh, thank the dear Lord,’ said Catherine. ‘I’ll go straight away.’

On impulse, Libby ran upstairs and woke Ben.

‘I’m going over there,’ she told him. ‘It might be less scary for her.’

‘Be careful,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t forget your mobile.’

The sky was so overcast it felt like winter, Libby thought, as she drove towards the Abbey for the second time today. She slowed down as she reached the place where Patti had first shown it to her. It looked peaceful, the ruined arches blending completely into the backdrop of hills and trees.

Her mobile rang.

‘Where are you?’ It was Sister Catherine.

‘On my way to you. Why?’

‘Martha isn’t here.’

‘
H
ave you told the police?’ said Libby, yanking on the handbrake.

‘I can’t find the number!’ Sister Catherine sounded almost tearful.

‘I’ll do it. Sit tight and we’ll all be there very soon.’

Libby called Ian and then Fran.

‘Where could she be?’ she asked. ‘What do you think’s happened?’

‘Someone’s got at her,’ said Fran. ‘That’s why she rang you earlier.’

‘But why wouldn’t she tell me who it was?’

‘He was there?’

‘If he was there, why would she ring me at all?’

‘I don’t know. You’d better carry on to the Abbey and find out.’

When Libby arrived at the Abbey, Ian’s car and a squad car were both on the drive. Ian appeared in the doorway and came straight towards her.

‘Are you sure she said nothing else?’

‘No – I told you. And she was whispering.’

‘Why wouldn’t she give you a name?’

‘There couldn’t have been someone there, she wouldn’t have called at all.’

‘If she’d seen someone outside her room she might have done,’ said Ian.

‘Or perhaps,’ said Libby with sudden inspiration, ‘she was forced to make the call?’

Ian looked at her with rare approval. ‘Perhaps,’ he said.

A uniformed officer approached from the monastery side of the building. ‘No sign round there, sir.’

‘If someone’s got her,’ said Libby, ‘where would he take her?’

‘Nowhere obvious,’ said Ian. ‘We’ve put out an alert, but we don’t know what we’re looking for.’

‘No unusual cars?’

‘No. Look, Libby, I know you want to help, but believe me, the best thing you could do is to go back home in case she calls again.’

‘She’ll call my mobile, and I’ve got that with me. Can I have a look in the monastery grounds?’

‘They’ve got to be searched properly,’ said Ian. ‘I don’t want you trampling over evidence.’

‘Can I go in and see Sister Catherine, then?’

Ian sighed. ‘Yes, go on. But don’t get in the way.’

Sister Catherine was in the hall with two other, older sisters.

‘Oh, Libby! she said, clasping Libby’s hands. ‘Whatever is going on?’

‘I don’t know, but I just had an idea.’ Libby glanced over her shoulder to where Ian was talking into his mobile. ‘Can we go through to the atrium?’

Surprised, Catherine nodded and led the way through the corridors until they came to the now empty atrium, looking out over the ruins of the monastery.

‘Could she have got out this way?’ said Libby. ‘She had the keys at one point.’

Catherine moved across to the doors and pushed. They swung open. She looked round at Libby, fear in her eyes. ‘Now what?’

‘I suppose we tell Ian. Why didn’t he find this?’

‘He hasn’t had time yet,’ said Catherine. ‘I’ll go and fetch him.’

Libby stepped outside and turned left. Just round the corner was the gardener’s shed they had used as a dressing room. She found her heart thumping and her legs trembling. She didn’t know what had drawn her here, but she was quite certain that this was where Martha was, alive or dead.

And then she heard Estelle’s voice.

‘What are you doing?’ hissed Ian behind her.

‘Estelle. She’s got Martha in there.’ Libby suddenly felt weak and leant against the wall.

‘Stay there.’ Ian moved backwards and signalled to someone out of sight.

‘Don’t you need back-up?’ whispered Libby.

‘No time. It’s on its way.’ Ian went forward, two uniformed constables approaching from either side. Then with a sudden movement, he lunged at the door and pulled it open. David Fletcher’s face stared out at him and there was a scream from inside the hut. Libby started forward.

The three policemen were inside the hut. Libby was aware of Sister Catherine beside her wringing her hands, and the sound of sobbing. Over this she became aware of sirens and before anyone could emerge from the gardener’s hut, the garden was full of police in protective clothing.

Catherine had her arm round Libby’s shoulders. ‘Come inside,’ she said. ‘Your nice policeman will let us know what’s happening when he can.’

They sat in the visitor’s room and a worried-looking little nun brought them tea. Eventually, there was a brief knock and Ian came into the room.

‘Is it over?’ said Libby.

‘Yes, it’s over. A lot of loose ends to tie up. I’ll let you know when I can.’

Libby shook her head. ‘I just didn’t believe it was David, even though I thought it might be Estelle.’

Ian’s eyebrows rose. ‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘Dominic’s murderer was Martha.’

It wasn’t until the following day, when they were at the Manor for Hetty’s Sunday lunch that Ian called.

‘I’ll come by and tell you as briefly as I can what happened,’ he said.

‘We’re at the Manor having lunch,’ said Libby, ‘but Hetty won’t mind if you come. You can have pudding and coffee.’

‘How can I resist?’ said Ian, sounding tired.

‘I bet he hasn’t been to bed,’ said Libby, as she switched off her phone. ‘At least we’re all here so he only has to say it once.’

Fran and Guy had come, and Harry was due to arrive when his last lunchtime guests had gone.

Ian did indeed look tired when he arrived, and allowed himself to be seated in the biggest Windsor chair and supplied with apple crumble and cream.

‘I shall go to sleep after this,’ he said, smiling round at them all. ‘How many times have we done this over the last few years?’

‘Just like Poirot,’ said Libby, ‘only you’re not accusing any of us.’

‘You nearly dived straight into the middle of it yesterday,’ said Ian.

‘I didn’t though, did I?’ said Libby. ‘I stopped as soon as I heard Estelle’s voice. What was she –’

‘I’ll tell you what happened from the beginning,’ said Ian, ‘and you can ask questions afterwards. Where shall we start?’

‘The last night of the show. The murder,’ said Fran.

‘Oh, I think we’d better go back further than that.’ Ian spooned up the last of his apple crumble. ‘It all started when Uncle Edgar told two little girls all about this beautiful box which belonged to their family. We can’t prove that he killed Bernard Evans, but it looks likely. From what I can gather from Estelle, they were given the impression that the box was theirs by right, to improve their fortunes, but of course he’d sold it on. Over the years, Estelle tried to find out about it.’

‘Can I ask if we’ve confirmed that it was Bad Jack Jarvis who pinched it when he went abroad?’ asked Libby.

‘I don’t think we’ll ever know, but it seems likely, given where it ended up, and the fact that Albert and Ronald Barnes were both his descendants. Anyway, back to Martha – or Cornelia. She was different from Estelle. Always of a religious turn of mind, she didn’t approve of the reliquary being sold for profit, but she also researched its history. She knew all about it, and that was, in fact, why she came to St Eldreda’s Abbey. It was no coincidence. The catalyst for all the events was the appearance of it for sale. It seems Cornelia kept an eye on all sales of religious artifacts, and she spotted it. It was she who informed the nuns, although anonymously, and she was delighted when it came to the Abbey where she thought it ought to stay.’

‘She actually said that to me,’ said Libby.

‘The next thing in the chain of events was Dominic finding out about it. He knew perfectly well that Estelle had always thought it was family property, and thought it could make some money. He told Estelle.’

‘Were they separated?’ asked Fran.

‘Yes, but they got together to hatch the plan, which was, as you already know, for Dominic to stay behind and steal the reliquary. He obviously knew Martha came down to check on it in the middle of the night and thought it would be easy enough to overpower her. Estelle was there, as a member of the audience who stayed behind, to take the reliquary away, so it wouldn’t be found on Dominic.’

‘Did Dominic mean to kill Martha? Even in his robe she would have recognised him,’ said Fran.

‘Estelle says she didn’t know, but I would imagine that was the idea.’

‘What went wrong?’ asked Ben.

‘Martha did come down in the middle of the night, more to worship it than anything else as far as I can tell, and when Dominic tried to overpower her, she recognised him and killed him. Estelle saw it all. Apparently, she said Martha was quite mad. After she’d got over the shock, realising she couldn’t get out of the grounds, Estelle waited for Martha to reappear and then challenged her. She says, although I’m not sure it’s true, she meant to tell the police. But then, of course, Martha attacked her.’

‘You’d never have thought it, would you?’ said Libby.

‘The result of that was that Estelle fought back and Martha fell back on the stand and knocked herself out. Estelle thought she’d killed her, and went and hid until she could get out of the gates. She kept the robe Dominic had got for her.’

‘Yes, why had she got the robe?’ asked Ben. ‘She didn’t need it while she was in the audience.’

‘Dominic wanted her to be robed so no one would recognise her if they were interrupted during the night. She kept it because she didn’t know what else to do with it.’

‘So what was she doing skulking round the huts and the theatre?’ asked Peter.

‘Literally, hiding. She’d been in touch with David Fletcher – or rather – he’d been in touch with her after he heard Dominic had been killed. But of course, she didn’t know Martha was still alive, she thought, in fact, that she might have killed her, so she wasn’t very forthcoming to him. She didn’t want anyone to connect her with the crime scene and was worried about any evidence Dominic might have left at his house.’

‘Did she hit me?’ said Ben.

‘Yes, and got even more terrified. She was wearing the robe in an attempt not to be recognised.’

‘So what happened yesterday?’ asked Fran.

‘Estelle finally got in touch with David again to tell him that Cornelia was Martha and to confess to the whole thing.’

‘How did she find out that Martha was still alive?’

‘Believe it or not, Martha called her.’

‘I didn’t know she had a phone!’ said Libby.

‘Nobody did. But she called Estelle and said she was ready to tell the truth.’

‘Why on earth did she call me?’

‘When David and Estelle arrived, she met them in the ruins and led them to the gardener’s shed. She had only expected Estelle and was planning to kill her and claim it was self-defence. She called you as a sort of proof that she was scared of Estelle.’

‘Why wouldn’t she say it was Estelle?’ asked Fran.

‘She thought you might call Estelle, or tell the police. She didn’t want that. But David put a spoke in her wheel. She had Estelle at knife point in there.’ Ian frowned down at the table. ‘She was quite demented.’

‘Why did she kill Dominic in the first place? She could have raised the alarm easily,’ said Peter.

‘She seems fixated on the reliquary, and keeps saying it should be kept at the Abbey. I think she was going to try and steal it herself and hide it somewhere.’

‘She’d never have got away with that!’ said Libby.

‘No, but she’s not in the least rational,’ said Ian.

‘Oh, I know – did you find out who called the Abbey saying he was the beneficiary?’ said Fran.

Ian smiled. ‘Think about it. Who told you about the phone call?’

‘Well, Martha did,’ said Libby, ‘but that was before Dominic’s attack.’

‘There was no phone call. Think about it a bit more.’

Fran, Libby, Ben and Peter looked at each other.

‘No,’ said Ben. ‘Give up.’

‘Dominic had done a dummy run, by all accounts –’

‘Yes, he wasn’t there a couple of times after rehearsal,’ said Peter.

‘So – he knew Martha was in the habit of coming down to check on the reliquary in the middle of the night.’

‘To worship it, you said,’ said Libby.

‘Exactly. But, I told you, as far as we can make out from what she’s saying, she intended it not to leave the Abbey. The phone call appears to have been a rather inept attempt at laying a false trail, hoping you would think someone was after it.’

Libby sighed. ‘She certainly put on a good act. When I went to see her in hospital that time, I could have sworn she had no idea when Dominic was killed, or anything about it.’

‘And Fran’s bright light?’ asked Guy, reaching out and taking his wife’s hand. ‘What was that?’

‘Martha hitting her head on the reliquary stand,’ said Libby and Fran together.

‘That’s part of the story I couldn’t possibly answer,’ said Ian, smiling. ‘Yes, please, Hetty, I’d love coffee.’

‘Poor David.’ Fran shook her head. ‘I don’t suppose he’ll want to do the show now.’

‘Why won’t he?’ said Harry appearing in the doorway. ‘What’s been going on?’

‘Oh, Harry!’ came the chorus.