Murder in Bloom (31 page)

‘Unless she had a torch. I wonder if they found one?’ said Libby.

‘It would make sense, though,’ said Katie, getting up to move the kettle onto the Aga. ‘That’s why none of us saw her.’

‘Why
you
didn’t see her,’ said Lewis. ‘We weren’t here. You were the only one in the kitchen.’

‘Well, I didn’t see her. I told you,’ said Katie, warming the brown teapot. ‘And why was that little door open?’

‘A ruse,’ said Libby. ‘She opened it to look as though she went that way.’

‘We still don’t know how she got to the tunnel if she did go that way, though,’ said Lewis. ‘It must be somewhere near that door.’

‘There isn’t anything near it – just a passage,’ said Libby. ‘And Fran and I looked round the outside and there’s no sign of any concealed doors or whatever.’

Katie poured water into the teapot. ‘They’ll find it, don’t worry,’ she said comfortably. ‘Trust the police.’

‘They wouldn’t have found her body without me poking my nose in,’ said Libby. ‘They’d have gone on looking for her for the murder of Tony West and the suspected murder of Kenneth.’

‘Hmm,’ said Katie, setting out mugs. ‘At least she won’t be going after Gerald now. If he really is alive.’

‘Oh, he’s alive all right,’ said Libby. ‘Ian just won’t tell us where, but I’m pretty sure he’s already been to see him.’

‘Has he?’ Katie looked up.

‘He hasn’t said so, but Frank at the pub will have told him the name of the home, so he must have been by now.’

‘And not got very far if he’s got Alzheimer’s,’ said Lewis gloomily. ‘What a bugger. I wish I’d never seen this place.’

‘Well, you have,’ said Katie, ‘and you’re going to get a good series out of it, so stop moaning. C’mon, Edie, have a biscuit with your tea.’

Ian appeared at the door, his habitual scowl much in evidence.

‘I thought I said to wait for me,’ he said to Libby.

‘I have,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see why I shouldn’t wait in here in comfort rather than sitting in a stifling car.’ She smiled at Katie, who pushed a full mug towards her.

‘Could you come outside for a moment.’ It wasn’t a question. Libby sighed, got up and followed him out into the hall.

‘I need to take a formal statement,’ he said stiffly. ‘I can hardly do that with them in there.’

‘I know,’ said Libby. ‘But wouldn’t it be better if someone came round to see me at home? You can’t do it here, and I’m blowed if I’m trailing in to the police station.’

Ian sighed. ‘All right, all right,’ he said. ‘Are you in this evening?’

‘I can be,’ said Libby and batted her eyelashes at him. His scowl deepened.

‘I’ll come with one of the DCs,’ he said, ‘if that’s all right. As soon as I can get away.’

‘Don’t rush,’ said Libby, with a grin. ‘I’ll wait.’

‘He’s coming to take my statement tonight,’ she said, returning to the kitchen, ‘so I can go when I’ve finished my tea.’

‘Did he tell you anything?’ asked Lewis.

‘No, he wouldn’t. If I can get Fran to come over this evening she might be able to get something out of him. He’s still got a soft spot for her.’

‘Nice looking, he is,’ said Katie with a nod. ‘You couldn’t do better than him, lovey.’

‘I’m spoken for, Katie, but thanks for the thought. Anyone got anything they’d like to ask him if we get him in a mellow mood?’

‘When can I get back to normal,’ said Lewis, looking gloomier than ever. ‘Never-ending, this bloody business.’

Katie put her hands on the table and pushed herself upright. ‘You just ask him to get it all cleared up nice and quick,’ she said. ‘Edie, you look like you need a lie down. Not nice, murder, is it?’ And she shepherded Lewis’s mother out of the room towards her little sitting room.

‘Is your mum all right?’ asked Libby.

‘Just a bit shaky,’ said Lewis. ‘All a bit much for her, I reckon.’

‘A bit much for you, too,’ said Libby, patting his shoulder. ‘I’ll get out of your way. Tell Ad I’ve gone home, will you?’

‘OK, and thanks, Libby.’ Lewis gave her a kiss.

‘What for? Finding a body and making life more complicated?’ Libby shook her head. ‘Not a good move.’

‘’Course it was,’ said Lewis, walking beside her down the drive. ‘They’re that much nearer clearing it all up because you went nosing around. You ought to get a medal, that’s what.’

‘So should Fran,’ said Libby.

‘For getting me out of clink,’ said Lewis. ‘So she should.’

Ian and the fresh-faced Constable Maiden, he of the bright blue eyes and red hair, arrived at number 17 Allhallow’s Lane only minutes after Fran and Guy that evening. Guy promptly dragged Adam and Ben out for a drink, winking at Fran over Ian’s shoulder. She made a face.

‘Hello, Mr Maiden,’ said Libby. ‘Would you like tea?’

‘It’s DS Maiden, now,’ said Ian, smiling at his junior officer. Maiden blushed.

‘Congratulations,’ said Fran. ‘To think I’ve known you since you were in uniform!’

‘This is a formal interview,’ warned Ian, ‘so Mrs Castle should really not be in the room.’

‘Oh, rubbish. If we were at the police station, yes, but not here,’ said Fran briskly.

Ian looked sideways at his sergeant, who grinned back innocently.

‘Very good,’ he said. ‘No tea for me.’

Maiden’s face fell. Fran patted him on the shoulder. ‘I’ll make you some,’ she said. ‘Is that all right, Libby?’

‘Of course it is. Pour us a glass of wine while you’re there.’ Libby turned back to Ian who was looking even more disapproving. ‘Carry on.’

The interview was little more than a reiteration of the information Ian had already received from both Fran and Libby. He listened to their theories while DS Maiden got more and more interested and forgot to take notes.

‘So aren’t you going to satisfy our curiosity now?’ asked Libby, returning from the kitchen with the bottle of wine. ‘Did you find the entrance to the tunnel from the house?’

‘No,’ said Ian. ‘In fact, we don’t think there is an entrance there any more. The end of the tunnel is simply packed earth with no suggestion of a door.’

‘Have you tried to get through the earth?’ asked Fran.

‘Even if we did, Dale couldn’t have done, whether she was coming or going.’

‘No,’ said Libby, ‘so what about the other tunnels?’

‘Other tunnels?’

‘The ones to the pub and the church.’

‘They wouldn’t be any use to someone escaping the house, would they?’ said Ian, finally accepting a cup of tea from Fran.

‘But if she was coming from the river,’ said Libby. ‘Maybe she knew how to get out at the church. Or even the pub. Frank showed us where they thought the tunnel had come out in his cellars.’

‘With someone waiting for her who would then lug her body all the way back to the ice-house?’ Ian shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Oh.’ Libby looked crestfallen. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

‘She needn’t have been killed then,’ said Fran slowly. ‘Suppose she just ran away and hid – say in the tunnel where Libby fell in. Or in the ice-house – she could have climbed up into it. Libby and I didn’t get down to the sailing club until some time after she’d gone. Perhaps she was waiting until the fuss had died down.’

‘But you showed Ian where you thought she’d been and the police were swarming all over the area. She wouldn’t have been able to get out for ages,’ Libby said.

‘Or until someone came and found her.’

‘It would have to be someone who knew the icehouse was there, and who was agile enough to climb up to it,’ said Ian. ‘No, I’m afraid we’re stymied at the moment. Not,’ he added hastily, ‘that that’s for publication.’

‘No, of course not,’ they reassured him. ‘But what about Cindy killing Tony West?’ asked Fran. ‘Did you find her prints?’

Ian sighed. ‘Yes. She was extremely careless. And they were the prints we hadn’t identified previously.’

‘Why did you pull Lewis in?’ asked Libby.

‘It was the discovery of the carver’s mallet. At first, if you remember, the cases weren’t officially linked, so the prints weren’t identified. Dale’s prints didn’t get into the system until later.’

‘And did you find out when she’d come into the country?’ asked Fran.

‘Oh, yes. She wasn’t exactly subtle about it. Landed at Gatwick on her false passport as bright as a button. Went back and reappeared on Sunday.’

‘But why did she kill West?’ said Libby. ‘He was on her side if he helped her get away.’

‘There’s one thing we haven’t thought of,’ said Fran, ‘although you probably have, Ian. Libby and I haven’t.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Libby.

‘We only have Cindy’s word for it that he helped her get away.’

‘Oh.’ Libby looked nonplussed. ‘Have we?’

‘She said Gerald killed Kenneth. We believed her at first.’

‘We can’t be sure that he didn’t,’ said Ian.

‘Have you spoken to him?’ asked Fran.

‘Oh, yes.’ Ian shook his head. ‘A whole team of professionals got permission to try and talk to him, but it was hopeless. He has no idea about anything – even who he is – now. We showed him photographs,

but it was hopeless.’

‘So what did the solicitor say? West’s solicitor?’

‘And Gerald Shepherd’s, as it happens,’ said DS Maiden, speaking for the first time.

‘Really?’ Libby and Fran looked at each other. Maiden looked at Ian, who nodded.

‘West sold Creekmarsh to fund Shepherd’s nursing home. He was given power of attorney about a year before Shepherd “disappeared”. West said nothing about the fact that Shepherd hadn’t run off with Miss Dale, even though there was speculation in the press. Kenneth never asked the police to find him, there was only a statement purporting to come from him through West.’

‘So West was mixed up in it all right from the start,’ said Libby. ‘But why?’

‘That we don’t know either,’ said Ian.

‘What about Shepherd’s will?’ asked Fran.

‘As he’s still alive there’s a legal complication about our access. How we get round that I’ve no idea.’ Ian looked glum.

‘And have you decided the skeleton is Kenneth?’ said Libby.

‘Oh, yes, definitely.’ Ian looked at them in surprise. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘We were working on that assumption, but no one had confirmed it,’ said Fran. ‘Funnily enough, we didn’t have access to the DNA.’

Ian laughed. ‘You seemed to manage fairly well without official access.’

‘Intelligent guesswork,’ said Libby smugly.

‘And an extremely helpful policeman,’ added Ian.

‘Who shouldn’t really talk to you about anything.’

He turned to his sergeant. ‘Should he, Maiden?’

Maiden’s ears turned pink. ‘No, sir,’ he said.

‘Another thing,’ said Fran. ‘Why was Superintendent Bertram on the spot so much? Surely she should have been back at the office superintending.’

‘New promotion,’ said Ian.

‘Ah,’ said Libby. ‘Making her mark. We thought it might be because the case was higher profile than we thought.’

Ian and Maiden exchanged looks.

‘Shepherd was a famous actor,’ said Ian. ‘And we did think it was his body at first.’

‘That puzzles me,’ said Libby with a frown. ‘Because the first reports said it was a male between thirty and fifty, and Shepherd was well over sixty when he disappeared. And you didn’t know it had been Shepherd’s house then, did you?’

‘Libby! Of course we did. Just because Osbourne-Walker hadn’t seen fit to tell us about his slightly unorthodox purchase of Creekmarsh didn’t mean to say we didn’t immediately do a search and discover who was the previous owner. And that West was his power of attorney.’

‘So you linked the murders straight away?’ said Libby.

‘I wasn’t on the case then,’ said Ian, ‘but yes, of course they were linked. We’re not as dumb as all that, you know. And we do have access to all sorts of information the public don’t.’ He sent Libby a significant glance.

‘See,’ said Libby to Fran, ‘we always say the police get there before we do.’

‘But we’re always grateful for certain unorthodox help,’ said Ian with a grin.

‘When you can bring yourselves to accept it,’ said Fran.

‘Well, we did this time,’ said Ian, ‘and it let Osbourne-Walker off the hook.’

‘Didn’t save Cindy’s life, though, did it?’ said Libby. ‘Why do you think she was killed?’

‘Well, it wasn’t for the documents in that briefcase. Her passport was there and her marriage certificate, but that was all. There were no documents relating to Kenneth or Gerald Shepherd and no details of the home he was in.’

‘So if we hadn’t found Frank for you, you might never have found Gerald?’ said Libby.

‘I’m afraid that’s true,’ said Ian.

‘Yay!’ said Libby.

‘Did Cindy kill Kenneth?’ asked Fran.

Ian and Maiden both looked startled. ‘I can’t tell you that,’ said Ian. ‘There’s no evidence to suggest it. We’re not even sure how he died.’