Murder in Steeple Martin (26 page)

David’s shoulders relaxed. ‘She was registered with me then. I wouldn’t take her on the list when she came back to the village.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Libby tried not to smile, but the thought of the upright David being seduced by Paula was really quite funny. ‘So what was the other thing?’

‘About Millie.’

‘Millie? Last night you said it wasn’t about Millie.’

‘I said not exactly,’ said David, pulling at his tie. ‘Not
actually
Millie.’

Libby frowned at the tasteful “Sights of Sussex” tea towel draped artistically over the sink. ‘What, then?’

‘I’ve had a chance to have a really good look at her over the last few days.’

‘I know. That’s why you were being so protective of her. You think she’s going senile, don’t you?’

David winced. ‘She’s showing signs of early dementia, yes, but basically she’s had a sort of minor breakdown. In layman’s terms. She’ll probably recover, and she might even be able to go back home and live on her own for a while longer.’

‘That’ll be a relief for the boys,’ said Libby. ‘So what’s the problem?’

‘Arthritis.’

‘Arthritis?’ Libby was surprised. ‘She doesn’t look as though she’s got arthritis.’

‘All arthritis doesn’t present as bent and crippled,’ said David, loftily. ‘But if you’ve got it – ordinary osteo-arthritis, that is – which you probably have, at your age, it does curtail your activities somewhat.’

‘Which means?’ said Libby, with a sense of foreboding.

‘Millie couldn’t have cut that steel wire.’

Chapter Thirty-one

I
SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED
this, thought Libby, still staring at David as though he’d suddenly grown another head. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

‘And the bridge?’ she said finally.

‘No way.’ He shook his head. ‘Climbing down there and sawing through those planks. Honestly, can you see it?’

‘No. I always said I couldn’t see her cutting that steel wire. Climbing up into the flies – ridiculous. I think I always knew.’

‘Flies?’

‘The top of the stage. Where the lighting bars are – that sort of thing. That’s where the roof hung before we had the accident.’ Libby remembered her coffee and took a sip. It wasn’t very good. ‘So what
did
she do?’

‘The fire. The other incidents gave her the idea.’

‘But how much did she know about the other incidents? I can’t see Peter rushing off to tell her.’

‘Hetty knew. And Lenny. They were bound to tell her.’

‘Or someone else,’ said Libby, a horrible fear taking hold of her.

‘What do you mean, someone else?’

‘The murderer.’

They sat looking at one another in silence. David had gone pale, Libby noticed, and wondered exactly who he was worried about. She was just worried about everybody.

‘Oh, God, this is awful,’ she burst out. ‘I’ve got to get back to the children.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘David, what are we going to do?’

‘Do?’ He looked surprised. ‘Why?’

‘Well, the police don’t think the incidents at the theatre are connected to Paula’s death. I’m sure now they are.’

He nodded, still looking bewildered.

‘So that means the murderer is someone we know, because no one outside would know about the theatre and the bridge, would they?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Oh, God, I feel sick.’

‘But you’d thought of all this before, hadn’t you?’ said David. ‘When you thought Millie had caused the accidents.’

‘Yes, but this is worse, somehow. It’s confirmed.’ She walked to the door. ‘Fran knew. She told me it wasn’t Millie. Oh, I don’t know.’

‘Take it easy,’ said David, standing up and reaching out a large hand to pat her on the shoulder.

‘Tell me,’ she said, turning back to face him, ‘why did you tell me this? What good’s it done? And why didn’t you tell the police?’

David looked horrified. ‘Why would I do that? It might put someone we know in danger. Besides, they didn’t know about Millie in the first place. They only wanted to question her because she was James’s mother.’

‘So why were you getting in such a state about it?’

‘I told you, she’s a sick woman, and I don’t like the way the police ride roughshod over everybody.’

Libby sighed. There was so much she didn’t understand, she just wanted to do what she’d said last night to Belinda, put her hands over her ears and run away.

‘Oh, God. I shall have to tell Pete.’ She looked up. ‘By the way, why didn’t you want to say this in front of him and Ben?’

‘Because of James, of course. He really is the main suspect, isn’t he?’

‘Didn’t they tell you last night?’ said Libby, surprised. ‘The police have found out – why they didn’t before, I don’t know – that he was in London that night, and didn’t know anything about the bedspread. Did you know about the bedspread? Well, you must have done, if you found the body, I suppose.’

‘Bedspread?’ David’s mouth was hanging open again. It really didn’t suit him.

‘Didn’t you see it? The police said it was with the body. We didn’t know until James told us.’

‘No, I didn’t see it. It wasn’t in the car, I’m sure.’ David was looking quite sick, now. ‘Where did James say it was?’

‘He didn’t. As far as I can gather the police just thrust it at him in an evidence bag and asked if he recognised it. I don’t know if it was used to move the body or what, but apparently she wasn’t killed in the car.’

‘Yes, but I found her in the car,’ said David. ‘In the driver’s seat.’

‘Well, if she was, she was moved somehow.’

David put his head in his hands. ‘God.’

Libby looked down on him. ‘I know. It’s horrific, isn’t it? Now I really must go or the children will think I’ve been kidnapped. Oh, and David, she
was
pregnant. They told James. He’s had to give a DNA sample.’

She left David sitting at the table, his head still in his hands. She felt sorry for him, but there was too much else to think about. She would have to tell Peter and Ben about David’s theory and get the theatre checked before tonight’s final performance. She was beginning to wish she’d taken more notice of Fran.

On impulse, she knocked at the door of The Pink Geranium on the way past. Harry poked his head out from the back, saw who it was, and came to unlock.

‘What’s up, petal?’

‘Is Pete around?’ asked Libby.

‘No, he’s at home with James. Why?’

‘Oh, nothing. I’ll call him when I get home.’

Harry frowned. ‘Come on, what’s going on now?’

‘Nothing, I told you. I just need to speak to him before tonight.’ Libby smiled brightly. ‘See you later.’

She briefly contemplated walking up to The Manor to see if Ben was in, but decided she might as well go home and phone. The children would probably be up by now, making inroads into the contents of her fridge.

Libby stepped into Number 17 and was immediately assailed by the scent of healthy young male. She opened the curtains and the window in the sitting room, frowned at the sleeping bags discarded like snake skins on the floor and followed the smell of burnt toast into the conservatory.

‘Hello, Mum,’ said Belinda, waving a slice of toast in one hand and stroking Sidney with the other.

‘Morning all,’ said Libby. ‘Sleep well?’

Belinda nodded and the boys grunted. Satisfied, Libby retreated to the sitting room and picked up the phone.

‘Pete, it’s me. I’ve just been to see David, and he told me something rather odd. I’d quite like to talk to you and Ben about it. And James, actually.’

She heard a deep sigh. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, what now?’

‘I’m sorry, Pete, it’s not my fault this time, honestly. In fact, I still don’t really know why David chose to tell me.’

‘Didn’t you ask him?’

‘Well, of course I did, and he gave me some sort of explanation which didn’t make sense. He said he was concerned for you and James, I think. Oh, and he didn’t know about the bedspread.’

‘How can he not have known? The police said it was in the car with her.’

‘Oh, don’t ask me, I’m beyond it all. But I really do need to speak to you.’

‘All right,’ Peter sighed again. ‘Are you taking your rabble for a pint before they go home, did you say?’

‘Yes, in about – ooh,’ Libby looked at her watch, ‘about an hour, I should think.’

‘So shall I meet you in the pub?’

‘I’d rather meet you at the theatre.’

‘The theatre? Good lord, haven’t you seen enough of that place this week?’

‘Trust me,’ said Libby. ‘I’m going to phone Ben, and I’ll go down there as soon as he can open up.’

‘If he’s around this morning.’

‘Oh, no! Don’t tell me he’s gone somewhere.’

‘He was taking Hetty shopping this morning, I know. She wanted to do some food for the party tonight.’

‘Oh, well, just you, then. Will I be able to get the keys from The Manor or will you bring yours?’

Peter sighed again. ‘I’ll bring mine. I’ll see you there in about twenty minutes. All right? And this had better be worth it.’

He was right. Gregory Wilde answered the phone breathlessly but courteously. No, neither Hetty nor Ben was there, but he expected them back within the next half hour or so. Could he take a message?

Libby left a message asking Ben to get in touch as soon as he could, and apologising, told her children she would see them in the pub in an hour. She wished they were staying another night, so she could have spent some uninterrupted time with them the next day.

‘Oh, Mum, I forgot,’ said Belinda, as she was stepping out of the front door. ‘Someone called Fran phoned. I told her you’d ring her when you got back.’

‘I’ll have to do it later,’ said Libby. ‘Did she say anything else?’

‘No,’ said Belinda, ‘but she sounded a bit agitated.’

‘Oh, lord.’ Libby frowned, wondering whether she should phone Fran before going to the theatre. Thinking Fran was unlikely to point the finger at anyone specifically, she decided against it. She smiled brightly at Belinda. ‘I’ll tell you about her at the pub. See you later.’

Summer is definitely nearly here, Libby thought, unwrapping her cloak as she trotted down Allhallow’s Lane for the second time that morning. It was really quite warm.

Peter was already at the theatre when she got there, and so, to her surprise, was James.

‘I need to get out and be normal,’ he explained. ‘And go back home to the flat, as well.’

‘Haven’t you got to decide what to do about Millie?’ asked Libby.

‘Of course we have, but it needn’t concern James. I can take care of it as I live in the village,’ said Peter.

‘Millie’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to see you,’ said Libby, feeling nervous. Her heart had started bumping away as though she was about to step on stage not knowing the script.

‘I might have guessed,’ said Peter, glowering at her. ‘Go on. What now?’

‘David wanted to see me because … well. He says she didn’t cut that wire.’

Peter and James stared at her.

‘What?’

‘Or the bridge. He says she couldn’t have done. She’s got arthritis, apparently. I always said I couldn’t see her doing that, didn’t I?’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ asked James. ‘It means she isn’t under suspicion for anything.’

‘The police never thought she was behind the accidents. They really didn’t pay much attention to them once they realised they didn’t have anything to do with Paula.’ Libby sat down on one of the little wrought-iron chairs. ‘No, I’m afraid it means someone else caused them.’

‘So? I’m sorry, I don’t understand the urgency.’ Peter leaned up against the bar and folded his arms. ‘So someone else did them. What are you saying?’

‘That person’s still about and we don’t know who it is,’ said Libby.

‘And they might not be finished,’ said James, obviously catching on.

They all looked at one another.

‘And it could be the murderer,’ said Peter, slowly.

‘David said we’d all thought that before we knew Millie did them,’ said Libby.

‘Except she didn’t,’ said James.

‘So what are we saying, here?’ asked Peter. ‘Mum didn’t cause the accidents –’

‘Except the fire,’ put in Libby.

‘But not the others, because she’s too infirm. So not only did someone else cause them, but that person could be the murderer. Why do we think that?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Libby helplessly. ‘I can’t remember now.’

‘Because the accidents were intended to kill Paula,’ said James.

Libby and Peter looked at him. With growing apprehension, Libby wondered why on earth she’d let herself get involved with this, and remembered belatedly that David had reminded her about James still being the main suspect.

‘What makes you say that, Jamie?’ asked Peter, in an enviably controlled voice.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said James, sitting down opposite Libby. ‘I haven’t been involved with the play except on the periphery, and after Paula told me she was pregnant. She was actually scared. She said if someone wanted to hurt her, they knew she would be under that roof, and would have expected her, as one of the principals, to be in the photo-shoot on the bridge and in the huts.’

‘But why would someone want to hurt her? And it would have to be someone who knew a lot about the play,’ said Libby. ‘Oh, God, back to square one.’

‘Someone did want to hurt her, didn’t they?’ said Peter, his eyes fixed ruminatively on the distance. ‘And she knew it. Who?’

‘Someone she’d had an affair with?’ said Libby.

‘But why try to kill her? What could be that bad? Just because she might threaten to tell a wife or partner or something?’

‘Look,’ said James, standing up. ‘Nothing’s changed, has it? The police are still investigating, and we haven’t got their resources, so why don’t we just carry on as normal? Even if the murderer is still at large, it doesn’t mean to say there will be any more attacks on the theatre. Why on earth should there be? If it was Paula he was after all the time we’ve nothing to fear, have we?’

Libby felt ashamed for having half-suspected him again, and acknowledged the sense in what he said.

‘He’s right, Lib,’ said Peter. ‘We won’t have any more trouble.’

‘Sorry, I panicked,’ said Libby, standing up and feeling foolish. ‘David was so worried about it all.’

‘That’s what I don’t understand,’ said James.

‘Well, at least we know it wasn’t your mum, even if we think we know the accidents were directed at Paula. I think he was right to tell us.’ Libby fished in her basket for her cigarettes. ‘I’m going to pop outside and have a fag before we go, if that’s all right.’

Peter grinned at her. ‘Feeling foolish, you old trout?’

‘No, I’m not. I had to tell you what David said,’ said Libby, not meeting his eyes, ‘even if I seem to have done nothing but get the wrong end of the stick all through this business. About Ben, Fran, Paula – you name it.’

‘Come on, I’ll join you in a fag. James, you coming?’

‘No, I’ll go back and pack if you don’t mind. I’ll have to get stuff from Mum’s as well, so I’d better get on with it. See you, Libby. Thanks for the support.’

‘Aren’t you coming to the party tonight?’

‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten. Well, I still need to pack. See you later.’

Peter followed Libby into the little courtyard.

‘So what’s up now?’ he said.

‘Oh, nothing much. Just wondering who the hell we know who would kill someone and why.’ Libby lit her cigarette and sat on a bench.

‘That hasn’t changed, has it? We’ve been wondering that for the last week or more.’

‘But we know a lot more, now,’ said Libby. ‘We know about the bedspread. And we know she was pregnant.’

‘How does that help?’

‘It’s another motive.’

‘You’ve lost me.’ Peter sat on the bench beside her.