Murder at the Laurels (28 page)

‘Must be,' Fran sighed. ‘Although we don't know exactly when Redding died, do we?'

‘It wouldn't have been before her book group, though, would it? What would Redding have been doing at her coven before dark?'

‘I don't know.' Fran sighed again. ‘I don't really know anything except that she was garrotted.'

The waitress, unfortunately arriving at that moment with their food, nearly deposited it in their laps. Libby smiled at her. ‘Sorry,' she said. The girl departed, flustered.

A few people strolled along the promenade. Ladies in pale-coloured zip up jackets, the occasional rain hood, and determined cream sandals; gentlemen in raincoats, flat caps and trilbies and slightly darker zip up jackets.

‘I always thought I'd be like that,' said Libby, as they left the café and went to lean over the railings to look at the beach.

Fran laughed. ‘Never!'

‘I know that now. I'm doomed for ever to be the eternal aging hippy. Do you think Ben's ashamed of me?'

‘Considering the way he's been monopolising you recently, I hardly think so.'

‘Yes,' said Libby, looking smug, ‘he has, rather, hasn't he?'

‘Come on, then, let's go home,' said Fran. ‘We didn't come for a day out at the seaside.'

They walked back to where Libby had parked the car, in a road just off Marine Parade, lined with tall Victorian houses.

‘All hotels and guest houses, now,' said Libby, ‘but once, whole families would hire them for the entire summer.'

‘Really? Sort of early self-catering?'

‘I suppose so. They brought their own servants with them.'

‘Lucky servants.' Fran looked up at the attic windows of “Marine View”. ‘They probably could see the sea from up there.'

‘Hey, Fran, look!' Libby grabbed her arm. ‘Sue Warner!'

Fran looked. Sure enough, at the end of the road, disappearing into the doorway of a rather down-at-heel redbrick villa, was the slight figure of Nurse Warner. Libby started to move after her, but Fran pulled her back.

‘What do we need to speak to her for, Libby? We know Paul and Barbara are in the clear for Redding's murder. The poor kid's probably been shopping before she goes to sleep. Let's leave her alone.'

Uncertain, Libby watched the doorway for a moment, then shrugged, and crossed the road to where Romeo sat waiting for them. ‘Doesn't hurt to know where she lives, though,' she said.

Fran shook her head and climbed into the passenger seat.

Just as Libby pulled up outside The Pink Geranium, DCI Murray rang Fran's mobile.

‘I thought you'd want to know where we're up to, Mrs Castle,' he said.

Fran's eyes widened in surprise, and she silently beckoned Libby to come inside with her.

‘With the investigation, Mr Murray?'

‘Both, Mrs Castle. I know I probably shouldn't have taken you out there last night, but I hoped it might be helpful.'

‘I know that, Chief Inspector, but, as I said, nothing came to me.' The scene rose up vividly in Fran's mind's eye, the circle of trees, the shadowy cloaked figures and the fire.

‘I know. I thought you might be interested to know what happened, though. Are you free to talk for a minute?'

‘Yes,' said Fran, waving Libby towards the kitchen and miming tea, ‘but it's a bit unusual, isn't it?'

She heard Murray let out a long breath. ‘Yes, it is, but see, Mrs Castle, I'm treating you, unofficially like, as an expert witness.'

‘Eh?'

‘I've been talking to a couple of blokes I know in the Met and Thames Valley, and they've both been helped by – er – well – er –'

‘Mediums?' suggested Fran. ‘Psychics?'

‘Yes. Exactly. And I know you've been quite accurate, that is to say, very accurate. I just thought, perhaps, if you knew all the circumstances, you might – well –'

‘Pick something up?' said Fran.

‘Yes.'

‘What about Inspector Connell?' Fran pictured his dark, frowning face and could almost feel disapproval radiating towards her.

‘What about him? The investigations are linked, and I'm Senior Investigating Officer.'

‘So you can do what you like?' Fran was amused. ‘Go on, then. I'll see if I can help.'

Libby came in with the tea, her eyebrows raised hopefully. Fran nodded her to a chair.

‘First of all,' began Murray, for all the world as though he was on Jackanory, ‘we know that Joan Redding arrived at this cult meeting, or whatever they call it, somewhere after seven thirty and before eight o'clock. Like all the others, she was in a long black cloak, lined with green stuff. Some of the folk there think there was someone else with her, who was also wearing a cloak, and others aren't certain, because they all milled about a bit, apparently.

‘Anyway, after a bit of chanting and what have you, they split up into – er – pairs. And sort of, slipped off, if you get my meaning. And then they all came back together again for a bit more chanting, and that's when someone realised Redding wasn't there.'

‘If they weren't certain whether there was someone with her or not, how could they be sure?' asked Fran.

‘They all had to say a name, or something.'

‘Ashtaroth, Hecate and so on?'

‘You know?'

‘Guessed. Go on.'

‘So, her name, whatever it was, didn't come out. So they started calling her, thinking she was, well, still – um – occupied. And then one of them tripped over her.'

‘And no one saw anyone else?'

‘Well, no. They were all a bit preoccupied, you might say. Someone had the sense to have a mobile in his cloak pocket and called us.'

‘So it could have been any one of the other people there?'

‘Or this extra person. I mean, none of them are going to admit going off with someone who turns up dead, are they?'

‘No. You've questioned them all?'

‘Oh, yes. At the time, and afterwards. Poor souls have been up all night,' said Murray, gleefully.

‘And no one's guilty?'

‘Well, what you have to understand here, is that they were all in couples. And each one was questioned on their own, and they all came up with the right answers. Each couple confirmed each other's story.'

‘They could have organised that while they were waiting for you.'

‘They could, they could. But there were a few things the lads had picked up which confirmed the stories.'

‘And what were they?'

‘Forensic stuff, Mrs Castle. You wouldn't be interested.'

Wrinkling her nose, Fran thought she probably wouldn't.

‘You think, then, that there was this extra person with Nurse Redding? How would they have got hold of a cloak?'

‘According to the leader of this group, lots of them have more than one. You know, one on, one off, one in the wash.' Murray chuckled. ‘Like vests.'

Fran rolled her eyes at Libby, who was, by now, consumed with curiosity and sitting on the windowsill with her head out of the window, puffing furiously on her first cigarette since the middle of the night.

‘So, someone she knew, to whom she'd lent the cloak.'

‘Right. Now, because of her connection to your old auntie, and her hiding the will, or finding it, as she put it, we decided to talk to all the –'

‘Suspects.' Fran helped him out.

‘Yes. We wondered a bit about your cousin.'

‘Mr Wade?'

‘No, no. He was in London. Mr Denver.'

‘He's not my cousin,' said Fran.

‘No? Well, whatever he is, we'd heard Redding had a bit of a crush on him. And you probably won't know this, but she did a bit of a number on a doctor at the hospital where she worked previously. Asked to resign.'

All that work wasted, thought Fran.

‘So we wondered if he might have got a bit fed up with her chasing him. Especially now he seems to have taken up with that pretty little nurse whatsit. Warner.'

They knew all this all the time, thought Fran. Why did she bother?

‘But he was with his mother until seven thirty, when he left to pick up Nurse Warner and take her to work. She's on nights at The Laurels. And she confirmed it. We spoke to her last night. And Mrs Denver had group of highly respectable ladies with her all evening, and Mr Denver got back to them before nine. So they're out of it. And little Nurse Warner couldn't have done it.'

‘Oh? Why?'

‘She was getting ready for work, and as she hasn't got a car, could never have got to Tyne Chapel from Nethergate and back in the time.'

‘But surely, Nurse Redding wouldn't have gone off into the bushes with a woman?' said Fran. ‘I mean, I thought she was rather frighteningly heterosexual.'

‘Ah, well,' said Murray, obviously warming to his task and settling down for a good long chat, ‘that's where it becomes interesting, you see. According to our information, the doctor at the hospital wasn't the only one. Oh, no.'

‘No?'

‘Swung both ways, did our Nurse Redding. She'd been disciplined once before because of an alleged assault on a young nurse. Sexual, of course.'

‘Oh, of course.'

‘So there we are. It wasn't you, we checked with Mr Wolfe, it wasn't Mr Wade, he was in London with his daughter, it wasn't Nurse Warner, Mr or Mrs Denver. So, who are we left with, Mrs Castle?'

‘Mrs Headlam, Mr Murray.'

Chapter Thirty-six

‘
I
THOUGHT YOU'D SAY
that,' said Murray, with smug self-congratulation. ‘So what's the gut instinct about it?'

‘Nothing, I'm afraid,' said Fran. ‘The only times I've felt anything about these murders has been once when Inspector Connell told me over the telephone, and in Aunt Eleanor's room.' Her other moments weren't relevant here, Fran decided.

‘Was Headlam there then?'

‘No, Redding was, although Mrs Headlam came in afterwards.' Fran sighed. ‘I didn't like her much, but she does seem to have the best motive, doesn't she?'

‘The business about the will, yes. Don't understand why it was taken, though, whoever took it.'

‘It should have been Paul or Barbara Denver, they had most to lose, but they couldn't find it, either. All very confusing.'

‘We had Mrs Headlam in for questioning about your aunt's death, but there was no conclusive evidence.' Murray sounded disappointed.

‘What about the two drivers?'

‘Ah, yes. Both suspicious deaths. Both driven off the road. We've matched all the forensics, and we know what car it was, but nobody in the case has one like it, and we've had no reports of one being stolen. So dead end there. We're still working on it, though.'

‘Could a woman have done that?' asked Fran doubtfully.

‘Course she could. As long as she had the nerve. It's not the woman's strength that counts there, it's the car. And if she's a good driver, of course.'

‘And is Marion Headlam a good driver?'

Fran could almost hear Murray's shrug. ‘No idea. But she's got a very nice little sporty job.'

‘And that's it, is it?' said Fran, after the silence had lengthened. ‘What about other suspects? From her fellow witches, or Satanists, or whatever they are. And
who
are they?'

Murray laughed. ‘Oh, a very respectable lot, they are, you wouldn't believe. They'll be a couple of dodgy marriages on the go after this. Some of their partners had no idea. The places they said they were going! Opera club, out with the lads, darts, night fishing, one even said she was going to Mrs Denver's book group!'

‘And the cloak? You haven't found it?'

‘No, that's long gone, I reckon. Well, there you are, Mrs Castle. Any thoughts about this, I'd be glad to have them. Don't you go phoning anyone else, mind.'

‘You mean, don't tell Inspector Connell?'

‘Well, he's young, poor lad. Doesn't have the experience yet.'

‘He didn't look very young to me,' said Fran.

‘Younger than me, any road,' said Murray. ‘Can I leave it with you? I'll give you my mobile number.'

‘So there you are,' said Fran, when she'd finished recounting this remarkable conversation to Libby, who, by this time, had smoked another cigarette and got very stiff sitting on the windowsill.

‘We were right then. Marion Headlam.' Libby inched herself back on to firm ground.

‘Looks like it.' Fran sighed. ‘Why am I not convinced?'

‘No idea. Why didn't you say that to Murray? That's what he was asking you for.'

‘No, he was asking me to come up with a startling revelation, some kind of vision he could put to the test.'

‘OK. So what now?' Libby collected empty mugs and went towards the kitchen.

‘I'll have a think, and see if I can come up with anything. I suppose I ought to go to the various sites, as it's only on the ground, as it were, that I seem to get anything.'

‘No, it isn't,' said Libby. ‘You get it over the phone as well, and on the train.'

‘Yes, but that was a dream. I can't dream to order.'

‘Shall we go and have a look at the chapel, then?' suggested Libby hopefully.

‘We wouldn't be allowed anywhere near it,' said Fran. ‘No, I'll just sit here and think. I'll let you know if anything happens.'

‘I'm going to lunch at the Manor,' said Libby, ‘but I'll have my mobile with me. I might not be able to drive afterwards, though. Hetty keeps a good cellar, and Flo and Lenny are coming as well, so there'll be masses to drink.'

‘I shan't go anywhere today, Lib, but thanks for telling me. Have a good time.'

Libby had a very good time. Peter and his brother James arrived, and at the end of the meal Harry staggered in with left-over desserts from the restaurant. As she had done before, Libby helped Ben load the dishwasher, leaving the “pots” as Hetty called them, to Hetty herself. While they worked, Libby brought Ben up to date on Fran's sudden co-option onto the police force.

‘So all your investigations turned out to be unnecessary,' said Ben. ‘The police found it all out, too.'

Libby flicked a tea towel at him. ‘Yes, but we
did
find out. Which is much cleverer of us, because we haven't got their resources. And this could be a very good thing for us.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘When we go into business,' said Libby, and told him about Harry's hare-brained suggestion. ‘Fran's not keen, but I think it could work,' she finished defiantly.

Ben roared with laughter.

Libby bristled. ‘I don't see what's so funny,' she said, banging the dishwasher door shut.

‘Oh, my darling, no, you wouldn't,' said Ben, wrapping his arms round her and resting his cheek against hers. ‘That's why I love you.'

Libby held her breath. Ben, too, had gone still, as though he belatedly realised what he'd said. Then, he eased her away from him.

‘Sorry, Lib. That wasn't the way to do it, was it?' He kissed her nose and sighed. ‘But I'm afraid I do.'

Libby tried to speak and discovered there was something in her throat. Swallowing hard, she nodded, and found her eyes were smarting, too.

‘Hey, don't cry!' Ben pulled her back against him. ‘Is it so terrible?'

‘Eyeuffoo,' said Libby against his chest.

‘Pardon?'

She pulled away and wiped her eyes. ‘I love you, too,' she said.

After that, they forgot the dishwasher, the family and Fran's elevation to police informer. Much later, in bed at Number 17 Allhallow's Lane, Libby remembered her mobile, and reaching across Ben, fished it out of her basket.

‘Oh, dear, I forgot,' she said, switching it on. ‘And there's a message from Fran, too. Bother.'

‘cn I brro car in morn see Warner?' said the message.

‘I'll drive u,' replied Libby.

‘Fran's thought of something,' she told Ben. ‘See? I bet we could be detectives.'

The phone woke Libby just before seven o'clock.

‘Why don't you get an upstairs phone?' grumbled Ben, as she stumbled out of the bedroom and fell down the first two steps. Sidney, delighted to see her so early, wound himself round her legs and nearly caused further disaster. The answerphone cut in, and she had to yell over the top of herself to make sure she was heard.

‘All right, all right, I can hear you.'

‘Fran. You're a bit early.'

‘You said you'd drive me. I want to get to Sue Warner's before Paul leaves.'

‘Paul?'

‘Presumably he takes her home every morning, like he did yesterday.'

‘OK, why?'

‘I've thought of something.'

‘What?'

‘I'll tell you later.'

‘Oh, all right. I'll get dressed. See you in about half an hour.'

‘I'll walk round to you. I'm up and dressed already,' said Fran.

‘Hmph,' said Libby.

By the time Fran arrived, Libby was showered and dressed, eating a slice of toast, and Ben was in the shower. She shouted goodbye, received a gargled reply and went out to the car.

‘So what's all this about?' she asked, as she set off on the now all-too-familiar road to Nethergate.

‘Something's not right. It's Sue Warner. I want to see on her home ground and see if anything happens.'

‘Warner?'

‘She's lying. Trouble is, I don't know what about.'

‘But you haven't even spoken to her. How on earth do you know that she's lying?'

Fran sighed. ‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I just know. Look, lets go over it again. Barbara and Paul both told us Paul left his mother to pick up Sue Warner after the book club people arrived at Blagstock House.'

‘Yes,' agreed Libby, ‘and Sue Warner confirmed it, apparently.'

‘But how did she know when he left Blagstock House?'

‘Oh.' Libby glanced sideways, startled. ‘Well, I suppose by knowing how long it took to get to her place from there.'

‘We know it only takes five minutes in a car, we did it yesterday,' said Fran, ‘so he must have arrived at about – what? – twenty to or twenty-five to eight?'

‘Yes.'

‘And he got home just before nine. That's a long time.'

‘Well, perhaps they didn't go straight to The Laurels. Perhaps they – er – well, you know.'

‘Maybe,' said Fran. ‘I just think there's something wrong somewhere.'

Libby sighed. ‘I really don't know why. Paul left his mum with her book group, drove to get his girlfriend, spent some time with her, took her to work and went straight back to Mum and the book group. Mum's got an alibi, he's got an alibi, girlfriend's got an alibi. Headlam hasn't.'

‘How do we know she hasn't?' asked Fran. ‘For all we know, she'd gone off duty and was in the company of several unimpeachable witnesses.'

‘Oh, I don't know,' said Libby grumpily. ‘I still don't know why you think Warner's lying. About what, for goodness' sake?'

‘I'll find out,' said Fran, and turned her face to the window.

They drove the rest of the way in silence and parked a little way from the red brick villa in a resident's parking place. ‘If we get done, I'll make Murray pay the fine,' muttered Libby, locking Romeo and given him an encouraging pat.

‘That's Paul's car,' said Fran. ‘I saw it at Blagstock House.'

Libby eyed the low-slung silver sports car with distaste. ‘Think how difficult they are to get out of,' she said.

Fran gave her a look, and rang the bell marked Warner.

Paul's face was a study as he opened the door.

‘Sorry, Paul, but I need to ask your young lady a few questions,' said Fran, pushing past him, Libby gamely trundling behind. Too surprised to stop them, Paul followed them up the stairs, to where Sue Warner, still in uniform, stood looking terrified.

‘Now, what's all this about?' said Paul, recovering and going to put an arm round her.

‘Just a couple of questions,' said Fran.

‘Who do you think you are?' said Paul, beginning to look angry. Libby noticed Nurse Warner flinch as his hand tightened on her shoulder. ‘You're not the police!'

‘All right, Paul, all right,' said Fran, showing remarkable composure under the circumstances, Libby thought. ‘I just wanted to know what time you got here on Saturday night?'

‘Well, why don't you ask me? What's it got to do with her?' Libby could swear Paul's eyes were glittering now.

‘All right, I'm asking you. What time did you get here?'

‘About twenty to eight,' said Paul.

‘Half past seven,' said Nurse Warner.

They looked at each other.

‘Somewhere around there, anyway,' said Paul.

Libby felt a horrible sinking sensation in her stomach and nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice behind her said: ‘Not half past seven.'

Libby and Fran turned to see Barbara coming up the stairs behind them.

‘Mum!' Paul let go of Nurse Warner and pushed between Libby and Fran to grasp his mother's arm.

‘Silly little bitch,' said Barbara, conversationally. ‘I knew what you'd been up to, you know.'

‘What?' Fran stood between Barbara and Sue Warner and Libby tried to blend in with the wallpaper.

‘She was with him in Eleanor's room, you know. The day she died.'

‘I know,' said Fran, ‘and Nurse Redding found them.'

‘How do you know that?' asked Barbara.

‘She told me,' said Fran. ‘So, why couldn't it have been half past seven?'

‘He was with me.' Barbara's eyes were looking a little wild.

‘Yes, Nurse Warner, he was,' said Fran. ‘All the other ladies confirm it.'

Nurse Warner looked as if she were going to faint. Libby thoughtfully pushed a chair towards her and she collapsed onto it.

‘So, twenty to eight, Paul?' said Fran, watching him as He nodded. ‘Did you go straight to The Laurels?'

‘Yes,' said Nurse Warner.

‘No,' said Paul, and looked at Sue Warner as though he'd never seen her before. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

‘That would appear to be that, then, Mrs Castle,' said a new voice, and DCI Murray now appeared on the stairs, followed by Inspector Connell. Libby caught a glimpse of uniform boots outside the front door and felt her breathing return to normal.

‘Well, well. Not quite the same story then, eh, Miss Warner?' Murray bent over her solicitously. ‘What time did you go on duty? Quarter to nine, wasn't it?'

Slowly, Sue Warner nodded.

‘Took a long time to get to work, then, didn't it?'

He turned to Fran. ‘Well, Mrs Castle?'

‘If you could get someone to look in the wheelie bin, Mr Murray,' she said.

‘They were checked,' growled Inspector Connell. Libby gazed at him admiringly.

‘Near a hedge. A few doors down,' said Fran calmly.

DCI Murray frowned as Inspector Connell clattered down the stairs. ‘Should have been more thorough,' he said.

Fran shook her head. ‘It wasn't there before,' she said.

‘Where was it?'

‘I'm not absolutely sure,' said Fran. ‘Perhaps Barbara could tell us?'

Libby gaped. Barbara began to make noises like a stranded fish. She certainly looked like one. Behind them, Inspector Connell came clattering back up the stairs.