Murder Out of Tune - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (7 page)

Chapter Thirteen

‘Don’t look so worried, Mike,’ said Ben. ‘That means he’s tried the house, and tried Harry to see if we were here. It won’t be formal.’

‘At least he didn’t call the mobile,’ said Libby. ‘He was being discreet.’

Harry grinned. ‘And here he is.’ He stood up and turned the chair round. ‘Hello, Ian. I’ll go and make you some more coffee.’

Ian took the chair and raised his eyebrows at Mike and Cassandra.

‘Mr Farthing,’ he said. ‘Libby didn’t say she knew you.’

‘She didn’t,’ Cassandra said quickly. ‘I’m here visiting – she’s my cousin, you know – and Mike and I are old acquaintances.’

Ian cast Libby a suspicious glance.

‘Quite, quite true, Ian. I only found out because I took Cass to Sir Andrew’s meeting in the theatre on Thursday and she dragged Mike over to meet me.’ Libby smiled. ‘Honestly, I know it sounds like too much of a coincidence, but there it is.’

Ian sighed. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs …’

‘Oh, just call me Cassandra. Pleased to meet you, too.’

Ian looked at Mike doubtfully. ‘However, nice though it is to see you in a different setting, Mr Farthing, I think I’d better be off.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll call you in the morning, Libby.’

Cassandra stood up so hurriedly she nearly knocked her chair over. ‘No, no, please don’t do that. I understand you want to talk to Libby, and not in front of Mike, so we’ll take our coffee upstairs, shall we, Mike?’

Harry arrived with the fresh pot of coffee.

‘Top your cups up, then, and go up through the kitchen,’ he said.

Cassandra topped up the cups and led a bemused Mike away through the kitchen, while Harry took over Mike’s seat and Ian sat down again.

‘Your cousin?’ he said to Libby. ‘She made me feel like my old headmistress.’

‘That’s exactly what she was until she retired. I think she’s going to manage Mike within an inch of his life.’

‘Really? I thought she said acquaintance …?’

‘Yes, but I think it’s becoming more than that.’

‘She’s become protective of him,’ said Ben. ‘I just hope her faith isn’t misplaced.’

‘I hope so, too,’ said Ian. ‘You see, we got a tip-off about his nursery.’

A shocked silence fell around the table.

‘But – but he said nothing was found,’ said Libby, finding her voice.

‘Nothing was, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been something there,’ said Ian.

‘There would have been forensic traces,’ said Peter. ‘Wouldn’t there?’

‘But we hadn’t really got the grounds to dig everything up, or the resources at the time,’ said Ian. ‘And there was no evidence of anything having been got rid of. No burning material, or evidence of recent burial.’

‘Compost heap?’ said Harry.

‘Dogs would have smelt it, and they got absolutely nothing.’

‘Well, there then,’ said Libby. ‘He’s in the clear.’

Ian frowned. ‘We have to find out why we were given a tip-off.’

‘Who told you? You can ask them.’

‘That’s just it. It was anonymous.’

‘And you still had to look into it?’ Peter raised his eyebrows in his unintentionally superior manner.

‘Of course. I’m afraid I can’t go into the details with you.’ Ian poured himself coffee. ‘But what I really wanted to ask you was –’ he looked at Libby ‘– if anything has been said about the ukulele group to you or in your hearing.’

‘Gossip,’ said Libby.

‘Unofficial gossip?’ said Ben.

‘Obviously.’ Ian gave a deprecating smile. ‘These chats are always unofficial.’

‘But often useful,’ said Libby. ‘Well, no, I haven’t. Except what Mike’s told us, and I expect he’s told you all that, too.’

‘Tell me what it is, then.’

‘Just how he was the one who brought Lewis into the group. Mike works with Adam and Mog and is Lewis’s plant supplier. He was talking about the group to Edie one day when he was over there, and she wanted to join, so Lewis came too.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘Then there was the fact that Vernon Bowling and Ron Stewart had identical houses, both with large attics –’ she glanced at Ian ‘– and must have used the same builder, but he didn’t know how long they’d been friends.’

‘They had the same builder?’ Ian frowned. ‘Identical houses?’

‘Yes. Didn’t you know?’

‘I haven’t been to Mr Stewart’s house, only Mr Bowling’s. Are you sure about this, Libby?’

‘Yes. I’ve seen them both. It’s very obvious. Of course, Ron Stewart uses his attic as a studio. Recording, you know.’

Ian looked thoughtful. ‘That’s interesting.’

‘I said Mike should tell you, but he said he didn’t want to get Ron into trouble.’

Ian looked up sharply. ‘And what did he mean by that?’

‘Well …’ Libby looked confused. ‘I guess it meant he didn’t want to involve Ron unnecessarily. I mean, look what’s happened to Mike himself. Someone’s said something about him and his plants and brought the mighty force of the law down on his head.’

Ian nodded. ‘But this is exactly why I wanted to talk to you. You hear things we don’t.’

‘So now I’m your snitch.’ Libby sniffed.

Ian, Peter, Harry, and Ben laughed.

‘Or snout,’ said Ben.

‘Stool pigeon,’ added Peter.

‘Look, Libby, you want this cleared up, don’t you? If it isn’t, it could mean your Sir Andrew’s concert could be in jeopardy.’ Ian leant his elbows on the table and stared at her.

‘And he wouldn’t be pleased,’ said Harry, letting the chair he’d been leaning back in crash to the floor. ‘Especially as they approached him and he altered the concept to include them.’

‘And what happened to nosy Libby trying to solve murders?’ said Peter. ‘What happened to her.’

Libby’s colour was becoming alarmingly high. ‘So I’m only useful because I’m a nosy cow?’

The four men sighed in unison.

‘It wouldn’t be much use if policemen weren’t nosy, would it?’ said Ian. ‘Come on, Libby, I’m not asking anything illegal.’

‘But very unorthodox,’ countered Libby.

‘Yes,’ conceded Ian, ‘but my consulting – or helping – you and Fran over the years has always been unorthodox. I don’t exactly broadcast it.’

‘But Fran and I have managed to get into the papers.’

‘Yes, but not always for the right reasons,’ said Ben.

‘And you’re lucky to have media contacts,’ said Harry.

‘If you mean Jane Baker on
The Mercury
, she’s hardly national broadsheet, is she?’

‘And that Campbell person from Kent and Coast TV,’ added Peter.

Libby let out a huge sigh. ‘Oh, all right. But I’ve told you everything now, anyway. Except about Monica Turner.’ She giggled. ‘I’d love to see you question her as a suspect.’

‘Monica Turner?’ Ian frowned.

‘She’s an old battleaxe who lives in Maltby Lane,’ explained Ben. ‘And she accused Libby of bringing down murderers and ukulele players on the community.’

‘And she hates gays and lady vicars,’ said Harry.

Ian looked amused. ‘Perhaps I’ll have to question her myself.’

‘I wonder who’d come off best?’ said Harry. ‘She thinks Pete and I are an abomination.’

‘I suppose there weren’t any signs of homophobia among the members of the group?’ asked Libby suddenly. ‘I was thinking of Lewis. He can provoke people badly if he feels like it.’

Ian looked wary. ‘I couldn’t say.’

‘That,’ said Libby triumphantly, ‘means there is! Although if Bowling was homophobic, I can’t see Lewis killing him because of it.’

‘There, you see?’ Peter turned to the other men, spreading his hands. ‘After all her protestations, she’s off again.’

‘I only wondered.’ Libby finished her coffee. ‘Was there anything else, Ian, or can we rescue Mike?’

‘Not unless you’ve got any more revelations.’ Ian stood up. ‘You’ve given me something to think about, anyway. And don’t go investigating on your own.’ He turned to the other three men. ‘As if she would.’

They all nodded sagely.

‘And,’ he said to Libby, ‘you could just ask Fran …’

‘Nothing yet,’ said Libby, and blushed again. ‘Not that …’

‘Keep in touch,’ said Ian, and lifting a hand in farewell, vanished through the front door.

Libby went out through the kitchen and called up the spiral staircase. Cassandra appeared after a moment or two.

‘He’s gone,’ said Libby. ‘You can come down now.’

When Mike and Cassandra rejoined the group round the table, Harry had provided a bottle of brandy, a fresh coffee pot, and a new bottle of wine.

After they had all chosen their preferred beverages, Libby sat back in her chair and looked at Mike.

‘I’m afraid I told him about Ron and Bowling having the same houses. I thought he would already know, but he didn’t.’

‘He would have found out anyway,’ said Mike. ‘You didn’t find out why they’d picked on me?’

‘He wouldn’t tell us,’ said Ben. ‘Just that they’d had a tip-off.’

Mike shook his head. ‘I still don’t understand it.’

Libby let out another gusty sigh. ‘I know, but I’ve just told him about Ron’s house, and he’ll be bound to go and look at that – that’s a tip-off, too. And none of it actually might mean anything.’

‘Did you tell him anything else, Libby?’ Cassandra had on her headmistress look, fixing her cousin with a gimlet eye.

‘Only about Monica Turner,’ said Harry with a grin.

‘Monica …?’

‘I told you about the mad old woman on the mobility scooter who thinks Pete and Harry are – what did she call it, Hal?’

‘An abomination,’ said Harry.

‘Well, he wouldn’t take that seriously, would he,’ said Cassandra sharply. ‘Be sensible, Libby.

Five pairs of eyes turned to her in surprise.

‘I don’t think that’s fair, you know,’ said Mike gently, and Cassandra went bright crimson.

‘I’m doing it again, aren’t I?’ she said. ‘Sorry, Lib.’

‘Hmm.’ Libby didn’t look at her cousin. ‘Anyway, as Ian’s asked me, I shall be taking notes on anything I hear from now on.’

Peter opened his mouth and closed it again, Ben looked at the ceiling and Harry snorted into his brandy glass.

‘Well,’ said Mike carefully, ‘I think you ought to tell him there was homophobic element in the ukulele group, too.’

Chapter Fourteen

This time the brandy went up Harry’s nose and he had to be patted on the back by Peter.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Libby, leaning forward. ‘Against Lewis?’

Mike nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. And your friend Edie made it very clear that she was very unhappy about it.’

‘Oh, no,’ groaned Libby.

‘What happened?’ asked Ben.

‘Do I have to say?’ Mike looked shifty.

‘Someone has to,’ said Peter. ‘There could be something in this, and Libby could hardly go to the police with hearsay.’

‘If you didn’t want me to ask questions,’ said Libby firmly, ‘you shouldn’t have made the suggestion.’

‘I thought you could just tell the police what I said.’

‘I could. And they’d want to know a) how I knew and b) who was involved.’

‘Couldn’t you speak to Lewis?’

‘Adam,’ Libby called, and her son’s head poked out of the kitchen. ‘Is Lewis at home at the moment?’

‘Until Monday.’ Adam’s head withdrew, no doubt to continue his conversation with the PhD student he was so taken with, who was also one of Harry’s casual staff.

‘I’ll call him tomorrow then,’ said Libby. ‘And I’ll probably take Fran with me if he’s up for a visit.’

Cassandra looked hopeful. ‘Can I –’

‘No. And don’t forget we go to Hetty’s for lunch tomorrow.’ Libby finished her wine and coffee and stood up. ‘Well, I’m tired. Lovely meal as usual, Hal. See you tomorrow, Cass. Mike, nice to meet you in a civilised manner.’ She gave Peter a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come on, Ben.’

‘Mike, are you coming with me?’ asked Peter. ‘Hal’s just got to make sure everything’s OK in the kitchen.’

‘Oh, the lovebirds can lock up,’ said Harry. ‘See you tomorrow, everybody.’

On their way along the high street, Libby looked round and saw Mike being escorted out of The Pink Geranium between Peter and Harry.

‘No hanky-panky for Mike and Cass tonight, then!’ she said.

‘Don’t be disgusting,’ said her beloved, giving her a suggestive squeeze. ‘At least, not here.’

A phone call on Sunday morning assured her that Lewis and Edie would be in all morning, and Libby called Fran to ask if she’d like to meet her at Creekmarsh.

‘I can’t, Lib. Sophie’s coming for lunch and I’ve got to slave over a hot stove. Tell me about it afterwards.’

‘Bother,’ said Libby, turning to Ben. ‘Now I’ve got to go on my own – and
don’t
suggest I take Cass.’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ said Ben with a grin, ‘but Hetty is at this moment ringing Edie to suggest they come to lunch with her.’

‘Oh.’ Libby was taken aback. ‘So I don’t have to go to Creekmarsh?’

‘If they say yes, no,’ said Ben. ‘If you see what I mean.’

A few minutes later, Lewis was on the phone.

‘We’re coming to Hetty’s, lovie, so if we come early we’ll come down to you before we go to the Manor. OK?’

‘Well, that solves that problem,’ said Libby. ‘Will Hetty have enough of everything?’

‘When have you ever known my mother do a small roast?’ Ben laughed. ‘She’ll probably ask Flo and Lenny, too, just to make up the numbers.’

Lenny was Hetty’s brother, who had been sweet on Flo in his youth, and, now in their twilight years, as Flo put it, they had found each other again.

Lewis and Edie arrived at twelve o’clock, and Libby offered coffee.

‘Only a little drop for me, ducks,’ said Edie. ‘I don’t want to spoil one of Hetty’s lunches.’

‘So, Libby. Come on. This is about Vernon Bowling the homophobe, I suppose?’ said Lewis.

Libby and Ben were stunned into silence.

‘He was, you know, dear,’ said Edie. ‘Made me so cross, he did.’

‘What did he do?’ said Libby, finding her voice at last.

‘Oh, it started the first time we went,’ said Lewis, sounding amused. ‘Eric Robinson introduced us to the group – you knew Mike was the one who told us about it?’

Libby and Ben nodded.

‘Well, Robinson said something like: “We’re very pleased to have Lewis Osbourne-Walker from the TV and his mother joining us,” and Vernon Bowling said, in one of those voices that pretend to be a whisper but everyone can hear, “We don’t need that jumped up faggot.” Everyone pretended not to hear him, but of course, they did.’

‘And then he took every opportunity to be rude to us.’ Edie bridled. ‘Nasty man.’

‘Did anyone else agree with him?’ asked Ben.

‘Dunno.’ Lewis shrugged. ‘His mates were Ron Stewart and that solicitor, Derek Chandler. He seemed perfectly friendly with everyone else. They used to stay on for a drink at The Poacher after meetings, but I never did.’

‘Mike said he was friendly but quiet,’ said Libby, ‘but it was Mike who suggested there might be homophobia in the group.’

‘Well, ta, Mike!’ said Lewis. ‘All that does is give me a motive.’

‘Don’t be a silly bugger,’ said Edie. ‘You was in sight of me the whole time last Tuesday.’

‘I think they might not see it like that,’ said Libby. ‘You’re his mum, after all.’

‘Have you told your mate Ian?’ asked Lewis.

‘That Mike said there was homophobia in the group? No. As I said, they’d want to know how I knew, and they’d then regard it as hearsay.’

‘They might follow it up, though,’ said Ben.

‘The I’d better go and tell him meself,’ said Lewis, with a grin. ‘Just in case.’

‘Lewis!’ Edie was horrified.

‘Safer that way, Mum.’ Lewis finished his mug of coffee. ‘Got his number, Lib?’

Reluctantly, Libby read out Ian’s numbers. Lewis elected to try the official one first. He left a message, then looked at Libby.

‘I won’t disturb the poor bugger on his day off, if it is a day off.’

‘I doubt it. He never seems to have days off when he’s on a murder case.’ Libby shook her head. ‘But maybe not. Time enough tomorrow.’

But Ian called back as they were starting on Hetty’s pre-lunch sherry. Lewis excused himself and wandered out in to the hall. Hetty shook her head at Edie.

‘Every bloody mealtime when there’s bin a murder,’ she said. ‘Don’t know ʼow that Ian keeps body and soul together.’

Cassandra looked at Libby. ‘Really?’

‘Seems to be. The police don’t take much notice of a Sunday lunchtime.’

Lewis came back into the room.

‘He knew,’ he said simply.

‘He what?’ said Libby.

‘About Bowling’s homophobia.’ Lewis sat down next to his mother. ‘And didn’t seem bothered.’

‘So it hasn’t made you suspect number one, then,’ said Ben. ‘That’s a relief.’

‘He did say he’d like to talk to me, though.’ Lewis frowned. ‘He’s coming over this evening, Mum. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No, ducks, course I don’t. Him coming to us is better than you having to go to the police station, isn’t it?’

‘Of course it is,’ said Libby. ‘It’s more informal. You know how he always likes to come and chat with us …’

‘Not quite the same,’ said Lewis. ‘Still, I’m glad it’s him and not that awful woman we had before.’

‘Big Bertha, wasn’t it?’ said Ben. ‘All of five feet two, if I remember rightly.’

‘And she really didn’t like us, did she?’ said Libby with a grin.

‘You taunted her, that’s why,’ said Ben. ‘If she could have found a reason to lock you up, she would have.’

After lunch, Edie and Hetty retired to Hetty’s sitting room for a chat and a doze, and Libby led the way down the Manor drive to the pub.

‘So what do you know about the other members of the uke group, then Lewis?’ asked Libby, when they were settled at a table by the fire. ‘I didn’t think you’d know anything. I mean, when I went with Edie that time it was because she said the rest of them weren’t very friendly, but they didn’t seem too bad the other night.’

‘Well, you know now why they weren’t friendly – or why she thought they weren’t friendly.’

‘But why keep going? There must be other ukulele groups in the area,’ said Peter.

‘She’s an old lady,’ said Lewis. ‘She wouldn’t cope with trying to find another group, especially as I’m not with her a lot of the time. At least Libby’s been with her once, and she knows Mike. And she enjoys it. It’s got her fingers working again, and she’s well made up with that.’

‘She doesn’t know anything about any of the other members either, then?’ said Ben.

‘Nah. Once she heard what Bowling said, that was it. More a question of
her
not being friendly, not the rest of ʼem.’

‘Ah.’ Libby nodded. ‘Now, what do you think about Mike’s nursery being searched?’

‘Eh?’ Lewis looked startled. ‘Mike – what?’

Between them, Libby and Cassandra explained.

‘I’ve no idea.’ Lewis looked from to the other. ‘And you’re saying Bowling had a
cannabis
factory?’

Cassandra nodded. ‘I’m surprised it hasn’t got into the media already. And the police had a tip-off about Mike having been Bowling’s garden designer, so they put two and two together.’

Libby frowned. ‘It was more a tip-off that Mike had something to do with the cannabis, as I understood it.’

‘Mike?’ Lewis threw back his head and laughed. ‘He’s the last person in the world to have anything to do with drugs.’

‘Yes, we thought so,’ said Libby. ‘And he told us he’d only tried it once, in college, and it made him ill.’

‘And he’s a moral sort of bloke,’ said Lewis. ‘Wouldn’t be mixed up in anything dodgy.’

‘But the police don’t know that,’ said Peter. ‘They have to take everything at face value.’

The pub door opened, letting in a blast of cold air and Harry.

‘What have I missed?’ He swung a chair back to front and took up his usual position astride it.

‘Not much,’ said Ben.

‘Vernon Bowling was homophobic,’ said Libby. ‘And Ian knew.’

‘And Edie was hostile,’ added Peter. ‘Do you want a brandy?’

‘Yes, please, dear.’ Harry patted Peter’s hand. ‘So are you both chief suspects?’ he asked Lewis.

‘I don’t think so. The dishy inspector’s coming to see Mum and me tonight, though.’

‘With handcuffs in his back pocket, no doubt.’ Harry grinned round the table. ‘Well, the world’s well rid of Mr Bowling, then.’

Cassandra frowned. ‘I don’t think anyone deserves to be murdered.’

Harry smiled at her. ‘Strangely enough, neither do I.’

Cassandra looked confused.

‘Don’t worry, Cass, you get used to him,’ said Libby.

‘What you need to do,’ said Harry, accepting a brandy goblet from Peter, ‘is find out who else had a grudge against Vernon Bowling.’

‘Who needs to?’ asked Ben.

‘Well, Libby and Cassandra, obviously. Libby because she’s nosy and doesn’t want Lewis or Edie arrested, and Cassandra because she doesn’t want Mike Farthing arrested. And me, actually, because I don’t want Andrew’s concert to flop.’

There was a short silence. Then Cassandra turned to Libby.

‘Is this what it’s always like?’

‘What what’s always like?’

‘When a murder happens. You all sit and talk about it.’

Libby looked round at her friends. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘And drink a lot?’

‘Well …’ Libby made a face. ‘I suppose so. Most of our talking seems to take place over a drink of some sort – alcohol or tea.’

‘Or coffee,’ said Peter.

‘Or soup,’ added Harry.

Cassandra shook her head. ‘I don’t understand it.’

‘What don’t you understand?’ asked Libby. ‘Look, think about it. If someone comes round unexpectedly, unless you throw them out, you invite them in for a cup of tea or coffee, don’t you?’

‘No.’ Cassandra shook her head.

There were exclamations of surprise from the others round the table. Cassandra went faintly pink.

‘Right, you don’t do that. So you don’t take anyone for a drink either? You wouldn’t get together in a pub?’

‘No, of course not! I wouldn’t go into a pub on my own!’ Cassandra looked shocked.

‘In that case, you don’t live the same sort of life that we do.’ Libby looked faintly dissatisfied.

Cassandra was silent.

‘But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want us to find out about the murder for her Mike’s sake,’ said Harry.

Libby regarded her cousin thoughtfully. ‘But she’s got to help.’

‘She can help without having to have a drink,’ said Ben. ‘If she wants to.’