LS 13 - Murder in a Different Place (6 page)

Chapter Eight

‘Matthew said he knew my grandmother.’

‘Not your mother?’ said Libby.

‘No. I got a bit annoyed and said if he knew my grandmother, why didn’t he know my real parents and why I’d been farmed out. All he would say was that it wasn’t his story, but he’d promised my granny to look out for me.’ Harry shook his head. ‘God knows what would have happened to me if he hadn’t found me.’

‘Was it really a coincidence that you bumped into each other?’

Harry looked surprised. ‘I approached him, remember? How could it have been otherwise?’

‘He could have been prowling around that spot for days – weeks, even – just waiting for you to turn up.’

‘I’d never been there before. It wasn’t my patch. I was strictly a West End bloke, this was Fleet Street.’

‘Oh. Just a thought. What happened next?’

‘I carried on working at the club. Matthew and I met from time to time, I learnt the business and hung around the gay bars in the meantime. When I was about nineteen, Matthew told me my grandmother had come from the Isle of Wight, where he himself lived. That was when he brought me here for the first time.’ Harry nodded towards the next cove. ‘Did you know that was actually called Candle Cove?’

‘Candle …?’

‘They lit candles for the ships. I’m not sure if it was to lure them in or warn them of the rocks.’

‘Smugglers, then.’

‘Oh, yes. And, when the tide’s in, you can’t get out of the cove because the rocks are under water and it’s too dangerous.’

‘So when you stayed there you really were marooned?’

‘Yes. But he sailed me all round the island to show me where everything was. And told me about his family.’

‘But didn’t introduce you to anyone?’

‘No. I gathered it was because no one else knew about me.’ Harry shook his head. ‘And I guessed there must be some kind of scandal. Although what it could have to do with Granny I’ve no idea. I would have thought any scandal would be attached to my parents, whoever they were.’

‘OK, so coming up to date, what is it you didn’t want the sisters to tell us? What made you so scared?’

‘After Matthew died, Alicia sent me a letter that had arrived at The Shelf. It said that the writer knew I existed and told the sisters to tell me.’

‘Bloody hell. Did it say the writer knew your name?’

‘No.’

‘Then how did Alicia know he – or she – meant you?’

‘It said something like “your cousin wouldn’t tell me the name of his young friend”. And that he knew all about the scandal.’

‘Why did Alicia assume it was you?’

‘Because I’ve spoken to the sisters on the phone over the last few years, and they’ve known Matthew and I were close. I was the only “young” friend he had.’

‘So there
was
a letter.’

Harry looked startled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We wondered if you’d received a letter. A threatening letter. Fran did.’

‘Well, it wasn’t exactly sent to me, but yes, I suppose she was right. She often is.’

‘I don’t understand why this person would send a letter to the sisters – was it to all of the sisters? – virtually announcing his or her intentions. If it did, of course.’

‘It didn’t exactly, it sounded more like a warning. And it was addressed to Miss DeLaxley, so it looks as though the writer didn’t know much about the family.’

‘Why?’

‘DeLaxley was Matthew’s surname, the sisters were cousins on his mother’s side, and anyway, they all married, so have different names now.’

‘I still don’t get it.’ Libby was frowning. ‘If the writer didn’t know much about the family, how did he know about you? And why didn’t you want them to know? They’d already read the letter.’

Harry sighed. ‘Because the morning after the funeral – bloody hell, that was only the day before yesterday – I got up early and went for a walk on the beach. When I got back there was a note pinned to the railings – here.’ He gestured. ‘It said –’ he took a deep breath ‘– “I know you now.” That was all.’

‘Someone had been watching?’ Libby’s eyes were round with shock.

‘Must have been. And that
was
a threat.’

‘And you didn’t want any of us to know you’d been threatened? Why?’

‘Because you’d all go round protecting me and we’d probably leave the Island.’

‘And that would be bad – why?’

‘Because, actually, I want to find the bastard who killed Celia and then Matthew. Because he did kill Matthew.’

‘So you let the sisters think it was their idea to call us in?’

‘Let’s say I put the idea into their heads. Well, Alicia’s head, anyway.’ He smiled. ‘I did tell them it wasn’t a good idea because you’d cause mayhem.’

‘Gee thanks. You said last night you didn’t want them to call us in.’

Harry cleared his throat and looked away. ‘For their benefit.’

Libby slapped his legs. ‘I shall never believe a word you say again, Harry Price.’

Harry sat up and swept her into a bear hug. ‘You love me really.’

‘Yes.’ Libby’s voice was muffled against Harry’s towelling robe. ‘Let me sit up.’

Harry let her go and peered into his empty mug. ‘More tea?’

‘In a minute. Tell me first why you’ve been so pre-occupied. Is it just the threat? You weren’t yourself even before we came to the Island.’

‘I’d read the first letter. It was anonymous, and it seemed sinister. I thought someone was looking for me.’

‘So were you a bit scared about coming here?’

‘A bit. But I agreed with Alicia that Celia could have been murdered and that letter seemed to confirm it. And then the note. It shook me.’

‘We could tell,’ said Libby. She stood up. ‘Come on, let’s make some more tea and you can go and give Pete a cup.’

‘And tell him everything,’ said Harry, following her into the kitchen.

‘Will he mind you’ve told me first?’

‘No. I think he expects it. I must say, you old trout, I feel better.’

‘But still a bit scared?’

Harry nodded. ‘I just hope Pete doesn’t try and drag me off the Island when he hears.’

‘He might want to.’ Libby poured boiling water into four mugs. ‘And you can hardly blame him. I do see why you were keeping quiet – I think.’

‘Will you tell Ben?’ Harry paused with two mugs in his hands.

‘If you want me to. And Fran?’

‘Better everyone knows. But I don’t want to do it.’

Libby sighed. ‘I’ll see if I can’t get them all on to the deck.’

‘You were up early.’ Ben was sitting up in bed when she went in with his tea.

‘Yes. Do you think you could bring your tea outside? I’m going to make tea for Fran and Guy – oh bother, Guy likes coffee – and see if they’ll come out there, too.’

‘Why?’ Ben’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘To tell you Harry’s story.’

Twenty minutes later, Libby finished the story and looked at each of her listeners in turn.

‘Well? What do you think? Do you understand why he was nervous? Why he lied?’

‘Not really.’ Guy frowned. ‘Well, yes, I do, about being threatened, but one thing – the note he found pinned to the deck. How did he know it was for him?’

‘Oh!’ said Libby. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Whoever it was had pinned it there after seeing Harry go out on his own. They were watching.’ Fran was staring towards Candle Cove.

Libby involuntarily looked over her shoulder.

‘That makes sense,’ said Ben. ‘What do we do now? What does Hal want us to do?’

‘I don’t know, apart from finding out who killed Celia. And Matthew by default. He’s telling Pete now.’

‘Pete may well want to cart him off home,’ said Ben. ‘And I don’t blame him.’

‘But if that someone is after Harry, they know who he is and could come after him anywhere,’ said Fran.

‘But why
are
they after Harry?’ Libby scowled at her mug.

‘It isn’t Harry personally, is it?’ said Fran. ‘It was Matthew’s “young friend”. Whoever this person is, they knew that there was someone connected to the old scandal, but they didn’t know who.’

‘How did they know it was Matthew’s “young friend”?’ asked Libby.

‘I don’t know.’

‘How do we find out?’

‘Just what I was asking.’ Peter’s voice issued from behind them. He strolled over and pulled up a chair. ‘It’s someone who knows about the old scandal. So shouldn’t we look into that, first?’

The other four looked at him in surprise.

‘You want to go on with this?’ asked Libby. ‘We thought you’d want to drag him off the Island.’

‘I do, but the place to start, surely, is this old scandal, and we can’t look into that from Kent. We need to talk to people.’

‘But who?’ said Guy.

‘The sisters, first. Together or separately?’ said Fran.

‘They always seem to be together,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t know how we would separate them without turning it into an inquisition.’

Fran turned to Peter. ‘Who was Lucifer?’

They all looked at her.

‘Who?’ said Peter.

‘Oh, I know!’ said Libby. ‘The love of Matthew’s life, Hal said. What made you think of that?’

‘Because he’s the only one Matthew might have told.’

‘But he died, Hal said.’

‘No, he said he might have died. Matthew just stopped talking about him.’

‘Sounds like the end of the affair, to me,’ said Guy. ‘If this man had died, Matthew would have told Harry, surely. Everyone wants a shoulder to cry on.’

Peter nodded. ‘So do we look for him or the scandal?’

‘I don’t see how we can possibly find anything out about Lucifer,’ said Libby, ‘so we’ll have to start with the scandal. Do you think any of the people at the funeral knew about it?’

‘Well, one did,’ said Harry, joining them on the deck. ‘Because that’s where he saw me, obviously.’ He sat down on the edge of one of the loungers and looked round at them all. ‘Now you know about my sordid past, what do you all think?’

‘I think you need to know about your parents,’ said Fran. ‘Matthew should have told you the whole story.’

‘But he was protecting someone from this scandal,’ said Libby. ‘And trying to protect Harry, too.’

‘So how do we find out about the scandal, which was obviously about my parents?’ Harry leant back on the lounger and swung his feet up. ‘Ask the sisters? Because they must know, surely.’

‘It doesn’t seem as though they do,’ said Fran. ‘If Matthew wouldn’t introduce you to them, there was a reason. Perhaps they would have seen a family resemblance, or something?’

‘They haven’t noticed it now,’ Libby pointed out.

‘And someone is still concealing that scandal,’ said Peter. ‘Although why you should be a threat when you don’t even know what it is, I have no idea.’

‘Perhaps they’re watching me to make sure I don’t know.’ Harry sighed. ‘Perhaps when we leave the Island, they’ll heave a sigh of relief and forget all about it.’ He swung his legs off the lounger and stood up. ‘And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything. Eggs Benedict for breakfast, anyone?’

Chapter Nine

‘Is there any way we could get to meet the funeral guests?’ Libby wiped her plate to get at the last remnants of breakfast.

‘I don’t see how. We don’t know any of them,’ said Harry, pouring coffee.

‘The sisters do,’ said Peter. He seemed happier this morning, Libby thought. Probably because Harry had now told him the whole – rather garbled and improbable – story.

‘We talked about that earlier,’ said Fran. ‘I wish we could talk to them separately, but we can’t really.’

‘Why don’t you two go up on spec and just talk to whoever you find? They can’t be together all the time. Someone will have to go shopping, or do the gardening. Or something.’ Guy looked from Fran to Libby to see how his suggestion had gone down.

Fran looked at Libby. ‘I suppose we could.’

‘Of course we could. And they asked us into all this – they can’t object.’

‘Amelia can,’ said Harry.

‘Oh, it seems to me Amelia can object to anything,’ laughed Peter.

‘Let’s go up now,’ said Libby, standing up.

‘And avoid the washing-up?’ said Ben.

‘Loading the dishwasher you mean,’ grinned Fran, pushing her chair back. ‘I’ll just go and clean my teeth.’

‘You don’t think we’re too early?’ said Libby ten minutes later as they climbed towards the top of the cliff.

‘It’s nine thirty. I suppose it is a bit early.’ Fran stopped. ‘But don’t old people get up very early?’

‘I think that’s a myth. My mother didn’t.’

‘But I often see our old ladies in Nethergate off to do their shopping at nine. I’m not usually dressed by then.’

‘Well, it’s no use speculating. We’re on our way now.’ Libby started off up the path again. ‘And we’ve been seen, anyway.’

Amelia was waving from outside the little house.

‘Hello! Did you want to see us?’

‘Yes, please,’ puffed Libby. ‘No wonder you’re fit, if you have to keep going up and down that path!’

‘Oh, we hardly ever go down. When Ship House is let we have a cleaner who goes in – she’ll be with you today or tomorrow, I think – and there’s no reason for us to go down otherwise. We’re not beach people.’

‘What
do
you do with yourselves?’ Libby asked.

‘Oh, this and that.’ Amelia turned towards the house and Libby noticed her faintly discontented expression. Not enough, she thought.

‘I think Alicia’s already gone shopping.’ Amelia peered into the room on the right of the front door as she led them inside. Fran and Libby exchanged triumphant glances. ‘But Honoria’s here. In the garden, probably.’

Libby was grinning broadly at the accuracy of Guy’s prediction.

‘Well, perhaps we could just have a quick word with you, Amelia,’ said Fran quickly, before Libby disgraced them both.

‘Me? Why?’ Amelia raised perfectly pencilled eyebrows.

‘We were wondering about the people at the funeral, and if any of them had – well – known about whatever might have happened in the past.’

‘I don’t suppose so. They’re an uninteresting bunch.’ The discontented expression intensified. ‘There’s nothing to do on the Island any more.’ She took them into a comfortable but slightly shabby sitting room and indicated chairs. ‘It used to be such fun when we were younger.’

‘Have you always lived here?’ asked Libby, as she sank into a large chintz-covered armchair.

‘Oh, no, dear.’ Amelia preened slightly. ‘I’ve lived all over the world. My late husband was in the Diplomatic.’

‘Goodness!’ said Fran, in appropriately admiring tones. ‘You must have led such an interesting life.’

‘Oh, it was. That’s why …’ Amelia stopped and shrugged. ‘Oh, well, that’s not what you came about, is it?’

‘No, you’re right,’ said Libby. ‘You were going to tell us about some of your old friends who were at the funeral.’

‘Was I?’ Amelia frowned. ‘Oh. I suppose … Let me see. The Dougans, they were there. We’ve known them since we were children. Lady Bligh, of course, and that strange son of hers. Oh – Amanda Clipping was there, with some man in tow.’ She paused. ‘There were a lot of people I didn’t know. I expect Alicia will remember more. She never left the Island.’

‘What about Honoria?’ asked Fran. ‘Would she remember?’

‘I’ve no idea. You’ll have to ask her.’ Amelia turned a sulky face away from them.

‘And the people you mentioned,’ Libby pressed on. ‘They were all here during your childhood?’

‘Amanda wasn’t, but her parents were. They live in Surrey now, I believe. She lives in the family home – when she’s here.’

‘Oh? Not a permanent resident then?’

Amelia sniffed. ‘Too busy, apparently. She’s something to do with television, they say.’

‘Ah.’ Libby nodded wisely. ‘But the others, the Dougans, wasn’t it? And Lady Bligh? They were here?’

‘Look,’ said Amelia, turning back to face them. ‘I don’t know what you’re expecting to find, but you can rest assured none of these people had illegitimate babies or anything like that. We’d have known.’

‘We’re simply trying to find a reason for Celia’s murder,’ said Fran gently, ‘and if you want us to do that, we have to look at all the background.’

‘We’ll go and find Honoria, shall we?’ asked Libby, standing up. ‘Just point us the way to the garden.’

Amelia stood up and pulled back a heavy velvet curtain, revealing a French door. ‘Go round the side of the house. That’s where the kitchen garden is.’ She pulled the door closed behind them and drew the curtain across.

‘As if she’s blotting us out,’ said Libby, staring at the closed door. ‘What
is
up with her?’

‘Partly, reduced circumstances, I should think,’ said Fran. ‘She’s also a bit of a snob and thinks herself a cut above her sisters. We must find out what Celia did with her life, too, don’t forget. If she was murdered, it might have nothing to do with Matthew.’

Libby led the way round the house to where they found Honoria digging in a raised bed amid a forest of bean sticks.

‘So this is where you can see down into Candle Cove,’ said Fran, peering down through a screen of scrubby trees.

Honoria straightened up, a hand in the small of her back. ‘Where we sat during the storm.’ She nodded at the house, where two tall windows stood open. ‘Help you?’

‘If you don’t mind,’ said Libby. ‘We’ve just been talking to Amelia.’

‘We wondered if any of the people at Matthew’s funeral could have known about – well – Harry’s family,’ added Fran.

Honoria grunted. ‘Shouldn’t think so. Not many of ʼem around.’

‘Around years ago, do you mean?’ said Libby.

‘Dead, most of ʼem,’ said Honoria. ‘Old Lady Bligh and the Dougans about the only people.’

‘So most of the people at the funeral wouldn’t have known anything about a scandal back – well, whenever it was?’

Honoria shook her head. ‘Ask Alicia.’

‘We shall,’ said Fran. ‘You’d know everyone, though? You’ve lived here all your life?’

Honoria shrugged. ‘Most of it.’ She returned to her digging.

‘You lived on the mainland?’ persisted Libby, making a face at Fran. ‘So you could have missed something that happened during that period?’

‘Would have been told,’ said Honoria, without looking up.

Libby opened her mouth and shut it again at a look from Fran.

‘Thank you, we’ll let you carry on gardening,’ said Fran. ‘Perhaps we’ll see Alicia another time.’ She turned and shooed Libby in front of her.

‘I wanted to know –’ began Libby.

‘I know – when she was away. But it was beginning to sound like an interrogation, and she obviously wasn’t as proud of her time off the Island as Amelia.’

‘So what’s she hiding?’ said Libby as they came out in front of the house and The Shelf.

‘Probably nothing,’ sighed Fran.

‘What do we do now?’

‘Wait for Alicia?’

‘We don’t know how long that’ll be.’

‘Oh, not long,’ said Fran with a grin. ‘I can hear a car.’

Alicia appeared from the direction of the car park at the top of the cliff laden with shopping bags. Libby and Fran hurried forward to relieve her of some of them.

‘Thank you, dears.’ Alicia pushed a wisp of hair off her forehead. ‘Were you waiting for me?’

‘We’ve seen Amelia and Honoria,’ said Libby as they followed her into the house, ‘so we were actually just leaving.’

‘Well, now I’m here you can have a cup of coffee and tell me what you talked to them about.’ Alicia led the way into the large kitchen and filled a kettle before beginning to unpack her bags.

‘We were asking if either of them thought any of the funeral guests would know of anything in the past,’ began Libby, as Fran took tins out of a canvas bag.

‘Do you mean connected to Harry?’

‘Well – to his – um – relatives.’

Alicia took instant coffee out of a cupboard. ‘Let me see … when would it have been?’

‘We don’t really know,’ said Fran. ‘Going by Matthew’s age, which was – what? Mid-eighties?’

‘Eighty-one,’ said Alicia. ‘We’re all in our eighties. Except poor Celia, of course. She was the baby, only seventy-eight.’

‘So if someone had a baby, they were either your sort of age now, or at least in their sixties, given how old Harry is.’ Fran was emptying another bag.

‘Thank you, dear.’ Alicia poured water into a tall coffee pot. ‘Just leave them on the table and I’ll put them away later. Now, let’s think.’ She pulled out a chair and sat at the table, resting her chin on her hands. ‘Who did the girls say might remember?’

‘Only a couple of people,’ said Libby, sitting on the other side of the table. ‘The Dougans and Lady Bligh.’

‘Yes, they’re all our generation. Most of the others are younger, so it could have been anyone. I didn’t know everybody there, you know.’

‘People who’ve left the Island?’ asked Fran tentatively. ‘Amelia said she lived away for some time, and so did Honoria.’

‘Did she?’ Alicia looked surprised. ‘She doesn’t usually talk about it.’

‘She didn’t actually talk about it, just said she had,’ said Libby. ‘Was it at the same time Amelia was away?’

‘Amelia was away for a long time.’ Alicia went to fetch milk from the fridge. ‘She came back between her husband’s postings.’

Libby and Fran exchanged glances. This was difficult.

‘So what about other people who left the Island?’ asked Fran.

‘Well, we wouldn’t know any of them any more, unless they came back to visit. The only people who do that are the Clippings.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Libby. ‘Amelia mentioned Amanda Clipping. Her parents live in Surrey?’

‘Yes.’ Alicia sighed. ‘They moved when John got his promotion. We all thought they’d come back when he retired as they kept the house here, but they stayed there. I suppose they’d made friends.’

‘So Amanda uses the house. Does anyone else?’ asked Fran. Both Alicia and Libby looked surprised at this question.

‘I don’t think so. Amanda comes for the odd weekend and at other times. She sometimes brings guests.’ Alicia began to pour coffee.

‘Amelia said she had a guest with her at the funeral,’ said Libby.

Alicia laughed. ‘I don’t suppose she put it like that. Yes, she had a young man with her, although they were both with another man in a wheelchair. I didn’t know him.’

‘So she had two men in tow,’ said Fran with a smile.

Alicia twinkled. ‘That’s how she put it, isn’t it? Amelia can be a terrible prude, but it’s mainly because she hates getting old, and was considered a beauty in her day, and very daring. We were all surprised when she married her rather dull Roy.’

‘Security?’ suggested Libby.

‘I suppose so. So tell me what Honoria said.’

‘She just confirmed that the only people at the funeral who would have known you all when you were young were the Dougans and Lady Bligh.’ said Fran.

‘And that she’d moved away?’

‘We asked,’ said Libby. ‘She just said she had and that was that. We didn’t like to ask any more.’

‘But you’re dying to know.’ Alicia smiled at them both. ‘Actually, we were all off the Island at more or less the same time, although I was only away very briefly.’

‘When was that?’ asked Libby.

‘In the fifties. Is it important?’

‘If you were all away together, that would be why you don’t know what happened,’ said Fran.