LS 13 - Murder in a Different Place (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

Libby’s mouth dropped open.

‘But you said …’

‘I know what I said before,’ said Harry impatiently. ‘I now own property on the Island. I’ve got a responsibility. And I don’t want those women confusing the issue.’

‘Confusing …? How do you mean?’

‘What I said. They’ll go through both properties now like they never have before. They were content to leave you to do it, because they thought you could find something better than they could and they needn’t tell you anything they didn’t want to. They didn’t realise what a serpents’ nest they’d stir up, and now they want to protect whatever it is.’

‘Yes,’ said Libby doubtfully, ‘but Alicia appears to be quite honest and up-front in this letter.’

‘To lull me,’ said Harry triumphantly. ‘That’s what that is.’ He sat forward and peered at Libby. ‘Are you coming with me?’

Libby stared nervously at this new fierce Harry. She’d seen him up in arms over the plight of friends in the past, but this was a new side of him.

‘I don’t know how either of us could,’ she said. ‘You can’t very well close the caff again, not so close to the summer holidays, and I don’t like to leave Ben –’

‘Oh, come on, Lib! He coped on his own before he moved in with you. And I can leave the caff in the staff’s hands for once. Donna will come in and crack the whip if necessary.’

‘Donna? What about the baby?’

‘She can sort that out.’ Harry was impatient again. ‘Don’t make difficulties. If you won’t come with me, you can run the bloody caff.’

Libby looked horrified. ‘If that’s a choice – it’s Hobson’s,’ she said. ‘And what about Pete?’

‘He worries too much. We work well together.’

‘
We
do?’

‘Course we do.’ Harry grinned at her. ‘My favourite old trout.’

‘We – ell,’ said Libby, ‘you ask Pete and I’ll ask Ben. We owe them both consideration, at least.’

Harry fished his mobile from his pocket. ‘Ring them now.’

But Libby was adamant. ‘No. I shall talk to Ben in person. And I think you should do the same.’

‘Oh, all right.’ Harry stood up. ‘When will you talk to Ben?’

Libby sighed. ‘I’ll pop up to the Manor and see him now.’

‘Good.’ Harry kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll let you know what’s been arranged.’

Libby watched him go back down Allhallow’s Lane, then turned up it with another sigh, to make her way across the fields to the Manor.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ said Ben, after she’d sat in the estate office and told him about the letter and Harry’s determination to drop everything and go back to the Island. ‘And I don’t blame him. Do you want to go?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t really, but I don’t think I can let him down. I wish he’d take Peter.’

At the moment the phone on Ben’s desk rang.

‘Yes, Pete. Yes, Libby’s here, she just told me. What do you think?’

Ben listened, his eyes on Libby. When they widened, she opened her mouth, but he shook his head.

‘Why doesn’t he want you to go?’ he said. ‘Nannying? Good God. And Libby wouldn’t?’

He listened again, then turned from the handset. ‘Pete suggests we all go again. What do you think?’

‘Overkill?’ said Libby doubtfully. ‘What about the caff? And will your mum take Sidney again?’

‘Did you hear that, Pete? Yes, OK. We’ll wait to hear from you.’

Ben switched off the phone. ‘Let’s go and talk to Hetty. Pete’s threatening Harry with all sorts of recriminations if he goes without him. I do hope it doesn’t upset their relationship permanently.’

Libby trailed behind Ben as he made for the kitchen, wondering exactly the same thing.

Hetty was only too pleased to have Sidney again, and Libby was sure Sidney, too, would be pleased. Peter called while they were still drinking coffee in the Manor kitchen, saying that Harry had been persuaded to let them all go with him, and had called Ronald Deakin, who told him there was no problem with Harry staying at Ship House and asked if he should warn the sisters of his impending arrival. Harry had given a firm no to this, fudging the issue slightly by saying he would be in touch himself. Which he would. In person.

‘There are ferry crossings every half an hour up until about ten o’clock, so which should we aim for?’ Ben asked.

Peter obviously answered, so Ben ended the call and told Hetty and Libby they were aiming for the five thirty or six o’clock ferry from Portsmouth. Libby sighed and stood up. ‘Better get packing, then.’

By two thirty they were on the road, once more in Ben’s car.

‘What’s the plan, then, Hal?’ asked Ben, filtering into the A2 traffic.

‘I though we could pick up a take-away on the way,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t want to go out again after we’ve arrived.’

‘They aren’t likely to creep down after dark, surely,’ said Libby. ‘They’re old ladies.’

‘We can eat on the ferry,’ said Peter.

‘Only sandwiches,’ said Libby.

‘Let’s pre-order an Indian to pick up as we drive through Ventnor,’ said Ben.

‘How do we do that? We haven’t got any menus or anything,’ said Libby.

The three men groaned.

‘What?’ Libby turned round to look at Peter and Harry in the back. Harry was grinning at her, while Peter tapped away at his phone.

‘Oh,’ said Libby. ‘Is there an app for it?’

Curry duly ordered, they spent the rest of the drive to Portsmouth assiduously avoiding the reason for their journey, but speculating on what they could all do on the Island with the free run of Ship House.

‘I shan’t let it out,’ said Harry. ‘I shall keep it just for us. And if any other friends want to use it.’

Libby and Ben exchanged smiles.

‘Don’t let Fran’s girls know. They’ll be demanding free holidays all year round,’ said Libby. Fran’s daughters, Lucy and Chrissie, both felt they had a claim on Fran’s life, and, since she had inherited money, that, too. Her son Jeremy lived in America and was no problem at all, but Fran fought a constant battle with guilt over her girls, whom she claimed to have neglected during their formative years while pursuing her career as an actor. Libby understood this, having done the same, but she had given up on the stage a long time before Fran did. Now she helped manage a delightful small theatre and was able to pick and choose parts she’d never have played in the professional world.

‘Do you think Hetty would like it?’ asked Peter.

‘Ship House or the Island?’ said Ben. ‘I’m not sure. She’s hardly been away from Steeple Martin since she first married Greg. London a few times in the early years, because she still had family there.’

Ben’s mother had first gone to Steeple Martin as a hop-picker with her mother, Lillian, and younger sister Millie, Peter’s mother. Flo Carpenter had also been a regular, and eventually after the war all of them had moved there permanently.

‘We can ask her, but I think she’d rather stay at home,’ said Libby. ‘I, on the other hand, would have loved to have the run of the place.’

‘Would have?’ said Harry.

‘Well, you said yourself …’

‘So did I,’ said Peter, ‘but once this is all cleared up, and it will be, everything will be fine.’

A phone call when they arrived at Fishbourne ensured that their curry was ready to be picked up in Ventnor, before driving the short distance to Overcliffe, which was accomplished in silence.

‘Now,’ said Harry, when Ben had parked the car and switched off the engine. ‘It’s still daylight, so they can see us coming.’

‘Only if they’re on this side of the building, and the main rooms are the other side,’ said Libby.

‘We’ll stay here and you go and knock. No need to overwhelm them,’ said Ben.

Harry got out of the car, stood with his hand on the door for a moment, then, with a determined look on his face, strode round the corner to the front door of the sisters’ house. The other three craned to see.

After a minute, Harry stepped back and they could see Alicia’s bewildered face staring at him. She began to shake her head and Libby was out of the car like a shot.

‘Hello, Mrs Hope-Fenwick,’ she said. ‘Aren’t we lucky? Harry’s brought us over to his new home for a few days.’

Alicia’s horrified gaze took in Libby, Ben, and Peter, as they all ranged themselves beside Harry.

‘Mr Deakin said it’s perfectly all right,’ said Harry. ‘Just waiting for the final documentation to come to me, now. So perhaps I could have the keys?’

Honoria and Amelia appeared behind Alicia’s shoulders.

‘No,’ growled Honoria.

‘I’m afraid,’ said Ben pleasantly, ‘that it isn’t in your power to refuse.’ He got out his phone. ‘Perhaps I should call Mr Deakin again –’

‘No, no,’ said Alicia hastily. ‘Amelia, dear, get the keys.’

Amelia frowned at her sister. ‘Where are they?’

‘In – in the usual place,’ said Alicia.

‘We’ll come in while you find them, shall we?’ beamed Libby, and virtually pushed her way into the house. Harry attached himself to Amelia and Ben and Peter flanked Honoria, who was looking even more like an enraged bulldog. Chewing on a wasp, thought Libby.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ snapped Amelia, as they all came to a halt in the kitchen.

‘Waiting for the keys to Ship House, and whatever is left of the Beach House,’ said Harry.

‘
All
the keys,’ added Libby.

‘Yes,’ said Peter. ‘We know there are more sets than one, we had three. So all of them, please.’

For a long moment it looked as if there would be a stand-off, until Alicia crumpled into a chair at the kitchen table.

‘They’re on that hook.’ She waved towards a large dresser. Honoria went to grab the large bunch of keys that hung there, but Peter was too quick for her.

‘Four sets,’ he said, ‘and one large brass key.’

‘The Beach House,’ said Harry, taking it. ‘There were two.’

‘Celia took the other one, the day she …’ Alicia’s voice trailed off.

Libby sat down beside her. ‘Now, what was all that about?’ she asked. ‘Why didn’t you want Harry to have what’s rightfully his?’

Alicia rallied. Her sisters remained silent.

‘I offered to send him the keys. Ask him.’

‘I know. And how many sets would you have sent?’ Libby looked at all three sisters and saw their faces change according to their personalities. Alicia’s became pale, Amelia’s red, and Honoria’s practically purple.

‘Presumably,’ said Peter, assuming his most noble and arrogant stance and tone, ‘you wished to search the property thoroughly before Harry took possession. And since we found something in the Beach House, you wished to have another look there, in case we missed something. So what is so important?’

The sisters remained silent.

Harry took the keys from Peter and left the room. ‘No doubt we’ll see you in the morning,’ he said over his shoulder.

Peter, Ben and Libby followed him out. They collected their bags from the car and began to make their way down the path, their progress followed by three pairs of eyes behind a window.

‘Well,’ said Libby, as Harry let them into Ship House. ‘That was illuminating.’

‘Almost as if they were covering up a murder,’ said Peter, taken the curry bags into the kitchen.

‘I wonder if that’s it,’ said Harry, throwing his and Peter’s bags into the room they’d occupied so recently. ‘Huh – they haven’t even changed the beds.’

‘If what’s it?’ asked Ben.

‘If they’re covering up for a murder. A murder that happened when they were all suddenly away from the Island?’

Chapter Twenty-three

Peter reappeared with plates and they all stood looking at Harry.

‘Well, you must admit, it would fit the facts,’ he said, taking the plates from Peter and distributing them round the table. ‘Whatever this secret is, it’s a bad one. And they don’t get worse than murder.’

‘But murder of who?’ said Libby.

Ben went to fetch the foil dishes and Peter put out table mats.

‘The man who got Granny in the family way?’ suggested Harry. ‘That’s the most likely, isn’t it?’

‘Bloody hell,’ said Peter. ‘It makes sense.’

‘It almost does,’ said Libby frowning, ‘but then we come up against the person who killed Celia and who wrote to the sisters about you, Hal.’

‘If they’re the same person,’ said Ben.

‘They must be,’ said Libby. ‘And that was what they wanted to find out, wasn’t it?’

‘Who killed Celia?’ said Ben.

‘And who knew the secret. That’s what they were trying to find out, not just Celia’s killer.’

Harry was ladling chicken dhansak on top of pilau rice. ‘It all makes sense except for my anonymous letters.’

‘Yes.’ Libby was frowning again. ‘I can’t see where that fits in.’

‘Someone thinks Hal holds the key to the secret?’ suggested Peter, fastidiously wiping his fingers after tearing off a piece of puree.

‘It was a good job you did insist on coming over.’ Peter patted Hal’s arm. ‘They could have stripped the place.’

‘They certainly weren’t going to give up without a fight,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder what they’ll do next.’

‘Come down and say some of their stuff is here and could they fetch it, I expect,’ said Ben.

‘That’s easy,’ said Libby. ‘There’s an inventory for renters, so if we go through that we’ll soon find out if anything doesn’t belong.’

‘But that also means that there can’t be anything here that Matthew needed to keep secret,’ said Peter.

‘There are always locked spaces in holiday lets,’ said Libby. ‘I know, I’ve been in loads. Whole rooms, sometimes.’

‘And that’s where the sisters will say their belongings are,’ said Peter. ‘We’ll have to check all the keys, see if there is a locked drawer or cupboard.’

‘But,’ said Ben, ‘Matthew knew the sisters were in and out of here. He couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t see it.’

‘No, but it wouldn’t matter. That’s why they must be so sure there
is
something. They all knew this secret. It’s the possibility of it becoming known that is worrying them so much.’ Libby turned her attention to her jalfrezi.

‘What I can’t make out,’ said Harry, ‘is when they wanted you to find out who killed Celia, why they thought if you did, the murderer would keep quiet about his reason.’

‘And where you come into it,’ said Libby. ‘Still complicated, isn’t it?’

Libby was up early the following morning, and out on the deck with her tea to watch the sun rise over the sea, when she noticed a movement on the path down the cliff. Keeping still, she watched as a figure moved down on to the beach and slowly towards Candle Cove.

Honoria. It had to be. The figure was too tall and bulky to be either of the other sisters, and, besides, Libby could not imagine either of them creeping around a ruined building in the dawn. She wondered whether to wake Harry, and as she did, so Ben appeared by her side.

‘What is it?’ he whispered. Libby told him.

‘I’ll wake Harry,’ he said and disappeared inside.

‘What do you think she’s up to?’ Harry loomed up before her, struggling into his towelling robe.

‘She’s going to search the Beach House,’ said Libby. ‘You were dead right to come out here. Are we going to challenge her?’

‘It’s a tricky legal problem, isn’t it?’ said Ben. ‘After all, until probate’s been granted, whose property is it?’

‘Certainly not hers,’ said Libby, ‘and any minute now it’ll be Harry’s. Whatever she takes from there, it will be theft.’

‘We took the address book,’ said Harry. ‘But I suppose, technically, that’s mine, too.’

‘Follow her?’ suggested Libby.

‘All of us?’ Harry looked surprised.

‘Just you and me, then. Ben can keep watch here, in case one of the others comes down.’

‘Are we being sidelined again?’ drawled Peter, joining them.

‘ʼFraid so,’ said Ben with a grin. ‘Go on, then, you two. Follow the scary monster.’

Libby tucked her feet into her sandals and followed Harry down the steps to the beach. Honoria had disappeared from view by now, so they hurried across the sand and climbed over the rocks into Candle Cove.

‘She’ll see us!’ hissed Libby.

‘So?’ Harry was now striding purposefully across to the ruins of the Beach House, where Honoria could be made out almost bent double in front of the wall.

‘Good morning.’ He stopped a yard or so away, and Honoria snapped upright, almost losing her balance. Her hand went to her heart and Libby wondered for the moment if they’d scared her into a heart attack.

‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped.

Harry glanced at Libby, amused. ‘I think I should ask
you
that, don’t you?’

Honoria looked confused.

‘I must say,’ said Libby, stepping forward, ‘I would have thought you’d have the sense to look for whatever you wanted to find before Harry took over. You’ve had plenty of time.’

‘We didn’t think you’d come over.’ Honoria leaned against the crumbling brickwork. ‘How could we know?’

‘So what is it you’re looking for?’ said Harry, folding his arms and looking, Libby thought, like an avenging Greek god.

‘Nothing.’

‘Then why are you here? Come on, Honoria. You must think there’s something here, but for the life of me I can’t work out why you didn’t search here before we came over for Matthew’s funeral. You were so convinced Celia was murdered, you must have thought there was a clue here.’

‘We –’ Honoria glanced at Libby. ‘We thought you would solve her murder.’

‘Yes, you said.’ Libby moved closer. ‘But as we’ve also said, how could we do that when you wouldn’t even tell us the truth? So are you going to now?’

Honoria straightened her back. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, and started to walk round Harry, who put out an arm to stop her.

‘Honoria, please understand we wouldn’t do anything to hurt or upset you, but you can’t start poking around here and expect me not to wonder why.’

Honoria gave him a scathing look and shook her arm free, before trudging back to the rocks and clambering awkwardly over them.

‘Well,’ said Libby. ‘What about that then?’

Harry shook his head, watching as the older woman disappeared from view. ‘No idea. Come on, I want a cuppa.’

Peter and Ben had made fresh tea and were waiting on the deck.

‘We saw her go past,’ said Ben. ‘She didn’t look at us.’

‘She wouldn’t say anything,’ said Harry. ‘Except that they didn’t realise we would be coming over so soon.’

‘This is all so stupid,’ said Libby. ‘I’d wash my hands of them, but we can’t very well, now Harry’s inherited this place.’

‘And don’t forget someone’s after Harry,’ reminded Peter. ‘It might be all tied together.’

‘I know.’ Libby sighed. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Have a thorough search of this place and the Beach House. We can’t lock the Beach House, so anything loose we ought to remove,’ said Ben. ‘After breakfast.’

By the time the four of them made their way back to the Beach House, the day was threatening to turn very hot, and Peter was complaining that his white linen trousers were going to get filthy.

‘Should have worn something more practical then,’ said Harry, in shorts and a tee shirt. ‘We are.’

Peter looked them over and tipped his wide-brimmed hat to a rakish angle. ‘But you don’t look as good as I do,’ he grinned.

The search of the Beach House was less perfunctory than before. The area where Ben had found the address book was pulled apart, planks were torn off the walls and every nook and cranny prodded and poked. After two hours, Libby sat back on her heels and wiped her damp forehead.

‘Nothing. I don’t think there’s anything to find.’

‘I think you’re right,’ said Harry, straightening up from the pile of bricks he’d been sorting through.

‘Rotting fabric.’ Peter held it up. Libby peered at it.

‘Tea towel?’ she guessed. ‘Not useful, anyway.’

‘Let’s leave it,’ said Harry. ‘And I’ll ring the old ladies and tell them there’s nothing to find here. In fact,’ he eyed the ruin thoughtfully, ‘I’m inclined to tell them I’m going to have it knocked down.’

‘Really? I mean, really? Or just tell them that?’ asked Libby.

‘Really. It hasn’t any sentimental value, has it? I wonder if I could rebuild it?’

Ben straightened up holding a vicious-looking length of barbed wire. ‘Ask the planning officer. If Matthew had title to a property here, then you own the land and could probably put up a similar building.’ He looked down at the wire. ‘I don’t suppose this is relevant?’

Harry frowned. ‘I never saw any barbed wire here. Where did you find it?’

‘Over there.’ Ben gestured. ‘Near where I found the address book.’

‘Must be the architect’s eye,’ said Peter, going to look over the remains of the wall Ben had indicated.

‘By the way, where is the address book now?’ asked Libby.

‘Guy’s still got it,’ said Harry. ‘I think he was going to have another go at it, or get someone else to look at it.’

‘This wire looks like the stuff they put up on beaches during the war,’ said Ben. ‘They did that here, too, didn’t they?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Libby. ‘They would have been on the front line for invasion.’

‘As much as we were,’ said Peter. ‘More so, because I bet if they were invaded, the Germans would have thought they could capture an island easily, as they did with the Channel Islands.’

‘Perhaps we ought to try and find out more about it,’ said Libby.

‘There are some local history books at the house,’ said Harry. ‘I noticed. I was thinking of trying to see if there was anything in them that could … well, might …’

‘Be useful.’ Peter slipped his arm round Harry’s shoulders. ‘Come along then. I’ve had enough grubbing round in the dirt.’

Back at Ship House, Harry called the sisters, not mentioning the barbed wire or suggestions of invasion. He was brief and firm, and when he ended the call, shook his head. ‘That was Amelia. I don’t think she believed me.’

Peter and Ben were bent over the local history books Harry had pointed out to them while Libby made coffee in the kitchen.

‘There’s quite a bit here about PLUTO,’ said Ben.

‘The what?’ said Harry.

‘Pipeline under the ocean,’ said Libby coming in with the coffee. ‘It was to take fuel to the troops after the D-Day landings. Very hush-hush. Went from Shanklin, I think, or somewhere nearby. And I’ve just remembered something else. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.’

‘What?’

‘Operation Sea Lion.’

Three puzzled faces turned towards her.

‘It was Hitler’s plan to invade Britain. The Battle of Britain was part of it. I read all about it when I was doing some research after we got back last time, Ventnor was to be targeted by the Ninth Army from Le Havre.’