Murder Out of Tune - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (11 page)

‘Farthing’s Plants! No! He’s such a nice man. We’ve been asking his advice on the garden. He was going to come over and look at it, to see what was worth saving. You know, where you came in.’

‘He is a nice man, and rather a special friend of my cousin’s.’ Libby saw no need to say that the special friendship had only started last week. ‘And your front garden looks as if it could have been idyllic once. Very Secret Garden.’

‘That’s exactly what I thought when I first saw it,’ said Bethany. ‘But tell me, why has Mike Farthing been arrested?’

‘Oh, that’s a bit complicated, and we’re not supposed to know,’ said Libby. ‘Sorry.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Bethany. ‘I’m a priest, remember? But if I can help in any way, please let me know. I’m loving this village and the church, but my parishioners are all on the well – elderly side. It would be nice to get to know some younger people.’

‘Thanks for classing me as younger,’ said Libby with a grin. ‘But why don’t you come down to the pub on a Wednesday evening when we meet Patti and Anne? You and your husband, of course.’

‘Could we? You wouldn’t mind?’ Bethany looked delighted.

‘Of course not. It would be nice for Patti and Anne, too.’

With expressions of mutual esteem, Libby and Beth parted at the gate of the Secret Garden, and Libby trudged the few yards to her front door. It was fully dark now. She heard a slight noise, but she completely missed the shadow which detached itself from the alley beside the end of terrace cottage.

Chapter Twenty-one

Libby swam into consciousness, wondering why Ben was looming over her, and why she felt so dreadfully sick.

‘I’ve rung for an ambulance,’ Ben was saying. ‘They said don’t move you.’

‘What?’ Libby became aware of little pinpricks of cold on her face and other shapes moving behind Ben.

Harry was suddenly beside Ben.

‘Don’t move, you silly old trout. Someone hit you.’

‘Hit …?’ Oh, that was the thumping, nerve-shattering pain in her head, then. She closed her eyes.

‘No, Lib – darling? Stay with us.’ That was Ben. She made an effort to open her eyes and suddenly there was a blue light and someone else bending over her. And, thankfully, she slid back into blackness.

She awoke to the white slickness of a hospital room. Someone moved beside her, but it wasn’t Ben, it was Ian.

He smiled. ‘You’re back. I’ll fetch Ben.’

‘Just a minute.’ Libby tried to clear her throat and Ian immediately held a glass of water to her lips. ‘What happened?’

‘Ben came back from the Manor to find you lying outside your house in the snow. He realised someone had hit you and called the ambulance. Someone saw the call and relayed it to me, recognising the name and address, and I arrived just as you were being loaded into the ambulance. At the same time as the vicar, too. She said you’d been to see her.’

Libby tried to concentrate. ‘Yes. I only had to walk about a hundred yards. I didn’t see anything. Did I?’

‘We don’t know. It’s unlikely that you would remember anyway. Remember when Harry got hit on the head? And Ben, come to that.’

‘But why? I’d been to tea with the vicar. Why would anyone …?’

‘Don’t worry about it for now.’ Ian stood up. ‘I’ll send Ben in. They’re keeping you in overnight –’

‘How long have I been here?’

‘Since about six. It’s nearly midnight.’

‘I can’t even remember what day it is.’

‘Nearly Friday.’ He stooped and kissed her cheek. ‘Now stop thinking.’

Ben appeared as soon as Ian left, and Libby found herself crying. He said nothing, but enfolded her in as much of a hug as he could.

‘Silly,’ she croaked after a while. ‘I’m all right, aren’t I?’

‘No permanent damage,’ smiled Ben, sitting back on the chair at the side of the bed. ‘If it was the same person who hit Vernon Bowling, their aim was off.’

‘The snow,’ said Libby. ‘It was snowing.’

‘It had just started.’

‘I slipped.’ Libby’s eyes opened wide. ‘I remember. As I got level with the house – I slipped. Perhaps nobody hit me after all.’

‘No, love. You were face down with a lump the size of a cricket ball on the back on your head.’

‘But when I came round I was facing upwards. There was snow on my face.’

‘Yes, because I turned you over as soon as I found you. After that we didn’t dare move you.’

‘We?’

‘I called Harry and Pete to see if they knew where you’d been, and they came rushing over, naturally.’ Ben grinned. ‘I called Fran and Cass, too, but neither of them knew what you’d been up to after you came home with Cass. Why did she go back to London?’

Libby frowned. ‘I don’t know. Did she?’

‘Sorry, love.’ Ben leant forward and put his cheek against hers. ‘No more talking. I’ll let you get back to sleep.’

‘Not quite yet, I’m afraid!’ said a cheerful voice. ‘A few checks now she’s back with us. All right, Libby?’

Libby scowled. ‘Mrs Sarjeant.’

The nurse looked startled and turned to Ben. ‘It’s usually only the old ones who say that.’

He smiled. ‘Old-fashioned, our Mrs Sarjeant.’ He bent to kiss Libby’s cheek. ‘I’ll be outside.’

‘No, go home. Get some sleep.’

‘Good idea, Mr Sarjeant,’ said the nurse. Ben smiled.

‘Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning, love.’

It wasn’t until the following afternoon, after an MRI scan and various pokings and proddings that Libby was allowed to go home. She still felt woozy and disinclined to eat, but assured everyone she was fine. She and Ben arrived to find number seventeen under siege.

‘Let’s get her inside, first,’ said Ben. ‘Can you walk, love?’

‘I thought it was her head?’ said Flo from the back of the small crowd.

‘It was, but my legs won’t behave,’ said Libby. ‘Why are you all here?’

‘Heard you was comin’ home.’ Hetty had pushed her way to the front. ‘Give me the key, Ben.’

Inside, Sidney took one look at all the people invading his home and made a dash for the conservatory.

‘Thank you all,’ said Libby, after Ben had laid her carefully on the sofa. ‘But I don’t think I’m up to a press conference yet.’

‘Come on, Hal,’ said Peter. ‘We’ll speak to you later, Lib.’

‘No –’ Libby held out her hand. ‘Just you two and Hetty. I need to talk about it, just not with everyone.’

When Flo, Lenny and the neighbours had been politely sent on their way, Libby told Peter, Harry and Ben as much as she could remember of yesterday’s events. Hetty appeared as she finished, bearing a tray of tea.

‘I’ve put a chicken casserole in yer oven, gal,’ she said. ‘And I’m goin’ up now to change yer bed. All right, all right,’ she said as Ben got up as if to stop her. ‘Least I can do.’

‘She’s the best mother-in-law,’ said Libby, accepting a steaming mug from Peter. ‘And the tea in hospital was awful.’

‘Well,’ said Harry, leaning back in his chair and stretching long legs out in front of him, ‘you can hardly blame her for getting herself into trouble this time, Ben.’

‘Hardly. A hundred yard walk from tea with the vicar to your own front door,’ said Peter.

‘I don’t think it was my having tea with the vicar that caused this.’ Libby gestured to her bandaged head.

‘What was it, then? Something to do with Mike Farthing?’ suggested Ben.

‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ said Libby, starting to shake her head and deciding not to. ‘Someone who’s been bothered about who I’ve been talking to. And I haven’t spoken to Mike. Has Ian been in touch?’

‘Yes. He says he’ll speak to you when you’re ready.’

‘It ought to be soon,’ said Libby, fretting.

‘I’ll give him a ring, then,’ said Ben, exchanging glances with Peter and Harry.

‘Don’t you think you ought to rest a bit more before you talk to him?’ said Harry, as Ben hesitated in the doorway, phone in hand.

‘No. I need to talk about this. I know I’ve got myself into trouble in the past, but this was completely unprovoked. I’m very angry.’ Libby tried to look fierce under her bandage.

Ben nodded and moved into the kitchen.

‘Why has he done that? So that I can’t hear what he says?’ Libby picked pettishly at the cover Hetty had placed over her.

‘No,’ said Ben, returning from the kitchen. ‘Just so I could hear above the noise in here.’

‘We weren’t being noisy!’ said three voices together.

‘No reply. I’ve left a message.’ Ben came and sat on the floor next to Libby. ‘Do you want to go up to bed when Mum’s finished?’

‘Ben, dear, she’s not up for that quite yet,’ said Harry, smirking.

‘No,’ said Libby with a pale smile. ‘Not yet. I want to speak to Ian first.’

‘But he might not get the message for hours,’ said Peter. ‘I’d take the opportunity of a rest. Besides, the bathroom’s upstairs.’

‘Ever practical, Pete,’ said Ben, while Harry and Libby laughed.

Ben’s phone warbled.

‘Ian’s coming round now.’ Ben ended the call. ‘As long as you’re all right, he said.’

‘In that case,’ said Libby, ‘you can help me upstairs first, or I won’t be able to concentrate.’

Three bewildered faces stared at her.

‘The bathroom,’ she said wearily. ‘You put it into my head.’

By the time Ian arrived ten minutes later, complete with a young detective constable in tow, Libby was back on the sofa with fresh tea, and Hetty had gone back to the Manor.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ said Ian, taking the chair Peter had vacated for him. Harry courteously pulled a chair forward for the constable, who looked a little bemused.

‘Do you want us to go, Ian?’ asked Ben.

‘No, you’re fine. I imagine you all know all about it anyway.’

‘Right. Do you and …?’

‘DC Fielding,’ supplied Ian.

‘Want coffee? Or tea?’ finished Ben.

‘No, thanks, Ben. Now, Libby. Describe exactly what happened yesterday. From yesterday morning when you went to see Mike Farthing.’

Libby patiently recounted the visit to Farthing’s Plants, Cassandra’s appearance and subsequent arrival at The Poacher.

‘And what happened after that?’

Libby described her visit to Flo and her call on the vicar, and what she’d discovered about Derek Chandler.

‘But nobody would have known I was going to see Bethany – I didn’t know myself until I was at Flo’s.’

‘When did you first hear about Derek Chandler?’

‘I told you that – when I went to see Edie at Creekmarsh. And then when I went to see Una and she told me about Sandra Brown marrying and moving to Shott. Although Sid at The Poacher told us that she actually lives in Itching, and is a crack shot at darts. Or whatever you are at darts.’

‘And Chandler lives in Itching.’ Ian frowned.

‘And Sandra Brown – Farrow, sorry – is a friend of Mrs Bowling’s.

Ian sat back and glanced at DC Fielding, who was earnestly scribbling in his notebook.

‘I thought you’d all have had iPads, now,’ said Libby, following his gaze.

DC Fielding looked up. ‘Believe it or not, this is easier,’ he said.

‘So all you’ve been talking about over the last week is Mike Farthing and his cannabis connection –’

‘Which there isn’t,’ said Libby with a scowl.

‘And Derek Chandler and his supposed financial scam,’ Ian continued smoothly.

‘Well, Mike didn’t hit me. He was safely at the station being questioned, wasn’t he?’

‘He was. And I can’t see Derek Chandler lurking in the alleys of Steeple Martin, either, even if he’d heard of you, which I doubt he has.’

‘So, who?’ Libby frowned. ‘I didn’t think anyone hated me that much.’

‘Someone we’ve come across before?’ suggested Harry. Ian and DC Fielding turned to look at him. ‘Sorry to interrupt.’

‘No, it’s all right Harry.’ Ian stretched his back and frowned. ‘I must learn to sit properly. No, you could be right. After all, between you you’ve certainly logged up a few enemies.’

By now DC Fielding was looking more confused than ever. Ian took pity on him.

‘These people are actually my friends,’ he said, ‘and in fact have been – ah – 
instrumental
in some of the more spectacular arrests over the last few years.’

‘Oh,’ said Fielding, enlightened. ‘So is Mrs Sarjeant the –’

‘No,’ put in Mrs Sarjeant quickly. ‘I’m not psychic.’

‘Mind you,’ said Ian, ‘I’m surprised she isn’t here.’

‘She wanted to come over, but I thought the fewer people the better today,’ said Ben. ‘She’ll be here tomorrow.’

‘So there’s nothing else you can tell me?’ Ian turned back to Libby. ‘You did nothing else during the week?’

‘No. Well, you saw us on Wednesday, so you know I haven’t.’

‘Can you tell us what the situation with Mike is?’ asked Peter. ‘Libby said he was arrested by the drug squad.’

‘He was,’ said Ian. ‘There was rather a heated high-level exchange over that.’

DC Fielding was looking horrified. Ian smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry, Gerry. I shan’t give away any secrets.’

‘Talk to Sergeant Maiden,’ said Libby. ‘He knows what it’s all about.’

‘He’s sitting his inspector’s exams soon,’ Ian told them. ‘Then there’ll be no holding him.’

‘Anyway,’ said Peter, ‘getting back to Mike.’

‘Something was found on his computer,’ said Ian, ‘but I can’t tell you anything else.’

‘Is he still in custody?’ asked Harry.

‘No, he’s back at his business. And I believe your cousin is there with him.’

‘Oh, nice!’ said Libby. ‘I’m knocked on the head and she comes back from London to go straight to the jailbird instead of her poor injured cousin.’

‘London? She went to London? When?’

‘Almost as soon as we got back here from Shott. She said she wanted to get a few things because she was going to stay down here a bit longer.’

‘And you let her go?’

‘Let her …?’

‘Sorry.’ Ian shook his head. ‘Of course you couldn’t stop her, nor would you have wanted to. It’s just my suspicious mind.’

‘You thought perhaps she was taking something from Mike to hide?’

‘It crossed my mind.’

‘She couldn’t have done,’ asserted Libby. ‘Once the police arrived yesterday morning, she and Mike were kept apart. And she didn’t have anything with her when she arrived at The Poacher.’

‘Handbag?’

‘Well, yes …’

‘How big is a memory stick?’

‘He put something on a memory stick?’ said Harry. ‘But why? The stuff would still be on the computer.’

‘Unless it was wiped,’ said Ian.

‘But your experts can trace that sort of thing,’ said Ben.

‘Look, I’m only being the usual nosy policeman,’ said Ian. ‘Don’t worry about it. I shall talk to Mr Farthing, and your cousin, very soon, whatever drugs say.’