Murder by the Sea (22 page)

‘She’s coming down to join us.’ Fran sat down at the table and put the phone back in her bag.

‘What did she say about her mum?’

‘Nothing. I just said we were back, she asked where we were and she said she’d come down. I don’t know whether she was at work or at home.’

While they were waiting for Jane to arrive, Libby phoned Ben and asked him if he could come and fetch her from Nethergate.

‘Not too popular,’ Libby said to Fran. ‘He was busy doing something mechanical on the estate. I shall just have to wait until he’s ready.’

‘That’s OK,’ said Fran. ‘You can come back and wait with me.’ She turned her head. ‘Here’s Jane.’

‘Hi,’ said Libby. ‘You look bushed.’

Jane coloured faintly, in a much more attractive way than her mother. ‘I had to get up early to make sure Terry had everything before I went to work,’ she said. ‘I hope he’s fully appreciative,’ said Fran, as Libby got up to get a drink for Jane.

‘Oh, he doesn’t think I should be looking after him,’ said Jane with a little laugh. ‘I think he thinks it’s unmanly.’

‘From what I’ve seen of Terry that sounds very likely,’ said Libby, coming back to the table. ‘But I bet he likes it really. Have his parents gone home?’

‘Oh, yes. As soon as they saw he was all right, they went back. His mother’s coming down on Wednesday, I think, just to see how he is.’

‘Good. Now,’ said Fran, pulling her chair forward, ‘tell us why you didn’t warn us about your mother.’

Jane looked down into her glass. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

‘Your mother,’ said Libby, ‘is a living breathing miracle. Transported from the last century.’

Jane looked up and opened her mouth. Fran stepped in.

‘Century before last, Lib,’ she said, defusing the situation. ‘What Libby means is, your mother seems to have the same morality as
her
mother’s generation. She hasn’t moved with the times.’

Jane subsided. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I always wonder if it’s just me, but then I meet other people’s parents.’ She looked up. ‘And you two. You’re nearly the same age as my mother, aren’t you?’

‘About ten years difference,’ said Libby, ‘but, yes, nearer her age than we are yours.’

‘She’s always been like it. Drove my dad and me mad. And my grandmother was just the same. It was almost as though she was my mother’s mother, not my father’s.’

‘What was your grandfather like? Jessica’s brother?’ asked Libby, leaning her elbows on the table.

‘Quite jolly. I don’t remember him very well, but I would think Dad was more like him. Aunt Jess was the same. My mother was scandalised when she opened the house as a B&B, but that was Aunt Jess. Independent. Wouldn’t be beholden to anybody.’

‘Well, your mum confirmed that Simon Madderling bought the house for Aunt Jessica during the war, obviously before he disappeared, and that she thought he was a fascist spy.’

‘And you say he wasn’t,’ said Jane slowly.

‘That’s what the official documents said when they were released,’ said Fran.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘You know?’ Libby raided an eyebrow.

‘I looked him up, of course. I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this.’ Jane shook her head.

‘I don’t suppose your father would have told you, and your mother certainly wouldn’t. The only person who might have done would have been Jessica herself, and I expect she thought it was best to let the past stay buried,’ said Fran.

‘I talked it over with Terry last night,’ said Jane, ‘and we wondered why, as Jess left the house to me, she didn’t tell me if there was something hidden there. That’s your thinking, isn’t it? That’s why Terry was attacked?’

‘It’s one theory,’ said Libby. ‘Only because we were working on Fran’s – er – insights.’

‘And have you told the police?’ asked Jane.

‘I’ve left a message for my friend Inspector Connell,’ said Fran.

‘He’s not the one in charge of Terry’s investigation, though, is he?’

‘No, but none of the other officers are likely to take anything I say seriously,’ said Fran.

‘What, not even after those other cases you’ve helped with?’ Jane looked surprised.

‘My involvement was blown a bit out of proportion,’ said Fran. ‘Your chap at the
Mercury
was somewhat intrusive.’

‘That’s Bob, the news editor,’ said Jane. ‘But you did help, didn’t you?’

‘A bit,’ said Fran. ‘So did Libby.’

‘Yes.’ Jane looked at Libby for a moment. ‘So what do you think now?’

‘Not much.’ Fran sighed and shifted in her chair. ‘I think maybe I was getting something from a long way back and just assumed it had something to do with Terry’s attack.’

‘You don’t think there’s any danger of anything else happening?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Fran. ‘I was interfering. Sorry.’

Libby looked at her in astonishment. ‘
You
were interfering?’

Fran laughed. ‘Yes. Now you can tell
me
off.’

Jane frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m the nosy interfering one,’ said Libby. ‘Everybody tells me so. Especially Fran.’

‘Oh.’ Jane twirled her glass. ‘Well, I think you’re very good at interfering, and I wish you’d go on doing it.’

Libby and Fran both looked at her and then at each other.

‘What, exactly, do you mean?’ asked Libby.

‘Not so that I can do a piece on you,’ said Jane, looking at Fran, ‘even though I wanted to at first. No, because everything you’ve been doing interests me, and I want to find out more about Aunt Jessica and Peel House. And Simon Madderling, of course. As I said, I googled him this morning and found out quite a bit about him and it even mentions Aunt Jessica on one of the sites.’

‘It was the house that led me to the information,’ said Fran, quoting what she had told Libby the previous day.

‘Yes. Well, there must be more to find out, surely?’ said Jane, looking from one to the other. ‘Couldn’t you look into it?’

Fran looked uncomfortable.

‘She doesn’t really do stuff to order,’ said Libby. ‘That’s why she doesn’t like helping the police. She’s only happy if something comes to her sort of – oh, I don’t know – spontaneously.’

‘But the house did, didn’t it?’ persisted Jane. ‘And there must be more to find out.’

‘I’m sure there is,’ said Fran, ‘but do you really want me to? I mean, our visit to your mother wasn’t very successful, was it? I could just be wasting time.’

‘My mother confirmed what you thought, that Simon bought the house. See,’ said Jane, ‘you knew about it all along, really, didn’t you? You remember that first time you came to the flat you asked about my aunt’s job and how she’d afforded the house?’

‘I hope I didn’t sound as rude as that!’ said Fran, frowning.

‘No, it wasn’t rude. It was – um – enlightening.’ Jane looked down at the table. ‘I really think I ought to know if there’s anything there. To be found, I mean. I think I
need
to know.’

Fran sighed. ‘Well, I’ll have another go. Can I have a wander round the house sometime?’

‘Any time!’ said Jane. ‘We can go now if you like.’

‘Haven’t you got to get back to work?’ said Libby.

‘Oh – yes. But that doesn’t matter. I can let you in. Terry’s there.’

‘What about your new tenant?’

‘Mike’ll be at work. Mrs Finch will be there. I’m sure she’d let you into her flat.’

‘I think it would be better if you were there,’ said Fran. ‘Would it be convenient if I popped round this evening about eight?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Jane. ‘Then I could explain to the other tenants what was going on.’

‘Not too much,’ said Fran. ‘They’ll laugh at you. And me,’ she added as an afterthought.

‘That’s great.’ Jane stood up. ‘Thanks for the drink, Libby. Will you come tonight too?’

‘That depends on Fran,’ said Libby.

‘I don’t think I could stop her,’ said Fran, looking amused.

‘Do you think it will work?’ asked Libby when Jane had gone.

‘It’s the only thing other than the boat moment that has got the antennae twitching for ages, so it might. Funny.’ Fran looked out of the window at the sea. ‘Just those two.’

‘And the farm.’

‘That wasn’t connected.’

‘And you think the other two are?’ Libby’s voice rose in amazement.

‘I haven’t got a clue,’ said Fran, looking back at her with a smile. ‘It just feels right, somehow.’

‘Well, look what happened when you tried to connect all those other bits and pieces,’ said Libby. ‘You said yourself it was a dismal failure.’

‘Mmm.’ Fran’s gaze returned to the sea. ‘I think I’m going to have to sit down and work things out a bit better.’

‘How?’

‘Write them all down, then concentrate on them and see what happens. I can do it with photographs, now, can’t I?’

‘Yes.’ Libby looked at her watch. ‘Ben’ll be here in a minute. Shall I send him away? Then I can spend the afternoon helping you before we go to Peel House.’

‘If you send Ben away now he’ll probably never come back,’ laughed Fran, ‘and anyway, I’d prefer to be on my own while I try this.’

‘OK,’ said Libby, peering out of the landward window. ‘Here comes Ben. I’ll see you at Jane’s at eight, shall I?’

‘Come to me and we’ll go together,’ said Fran, getting to her feet and joining Libby at the door. ‘Although I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s certainly not to help the police, is it? It’s just sheer nosiness.’

‘We helped Bella when it wasn’t anything to do with the police, too,’ Libby reminded her, ‘but I know what you mean. Oh well, just call it a hobby.’

Ben was placated by the promise of a meal in The Swan, after grumbling most of the way back to Steeple Martin. Libby called Fran and suggested she drop Ben off with Guy first and then meet them when they’d finished at Peel House.

‘It’ll give us an excuse to get away if we need one,’ said Libby. ‘And I’ve promised to drive.’

At ten to eight, Ben was knocking on the door of the flat above Guy’s gallery and Fran was climbing into Romeo the Renault.

‘Still plenty of people about,’ said Libby, avoiding a family with young children strolling along Harbour Street with ice creams.

‘They might as well make the most of it if they’ve got young children,’ said Fran, ‘when they get back to their hotels or flats they can’t do much else, can they?’

‘No,’ agreed Libby. ‘We always let ours stay up when we were on holiday.’

This time, there was space to park almost in front of Peel House. Jane must have been watching for them, as the front door opened almost immediately.

‘Where do you want to start?’ she asked.

‘Which flat was Aunt Jessica’s?’ said Fran. ‘This ground floor one, wasn’t it?’

‘If you can call it ground floor,’ said Libby. ‘It’s first floor at the back, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, because we’re built on a slope away from the cliff. That’s why Mrs Finch has her own front door at the back.’

‘Is Mike in?’ asked Fran. ‘I don’t want to disturb him.’

‘I’ve already asked him if he minded if you came in. He doesn’t, but says he’s going out soon, so perhaps we’d better go in to him first,’ said Jane, lifting her hand to knock on the door.

Mike, as good-looking as Libby remembered him, opened the door with a smiling but watchful face.

‘And this is the clairvoyant lady?’ he asked, as Jane made introductions. Fran looked surprised.

‘Oh, I don’t think I’m clairvoyant,’ she said. ‘I just pick up things, now and again.’

‘I shall have to watch the silver, then, won’t I?’ he said with a short laugh. Jane looked at the ceiling and Libby stared. Fran smiled.

‘Shall we leave you alone?’ asked Jane.

‘No, I’m fine. If you wouldn’t mind me wandering round a bit?’ Fran turned to Mike.

‘Not at all,’ he said, sitting on a chair at the table and indicating that his guests should do so, too.

So, they sat and watched Fran walking round the room, occasionally trailing her fingers over a surface. She stood still by the window with her head bowed.

‘Was this Jessica’s bedroom?’ she asked suddenly.

Jane looked surprised. ‘Yes, it was. I thought it ought to be the sitting room because it has a view of the sea.’

Fran turned back to Mike. ‘Would it be a terrible imposition if I asked to see your bedroom?’

He smiled, shrugged and stood up to lead the way. Fran simply stood in the doorway, then, shaking her head, had a quick look in the kitchen and went back to the sitting room.

‘Thank you, Mike,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to have been so intrusive, but it was on your landlady’s behalf.’

‘And Terry’s,’ said Mike. ‘To get to the bottom of his attack.’

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ agreed Fran quickly.

With renewed thanks, they left the ground floor flat and Fran asked if she could go down to see Mrs Finch.