Murder at the Manor - Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series Read online

  ‘There’s another angle.’ Ben helped himself to more potatoes. ‘Her first husband.’

  ‘I thought of that,’ said Libby. ‘But why would he want to have her killed?’

  ‘I was thinking of the religious angle.’

  ‘Religious?’

  ‘I would say he was Jewish, wouldn’t you? And their children – two rather Jewish names.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Libby, ‘you can’t go by that these days. Everyone calls their children Rachel and Zachary.’

  ‘But Solomon is a very Jewish surname. What was her maiden name?’

  Libby screwed up her forehead. ‘Jecks? No – Jacks. Is that Jewish?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Ben put his knife and fork together and pushed his plate away. ‘Anyway, Melanie married again, and this time to an Irish Catholic. That must have caused friction.’

  ‘How do you know he’s an Irish Catholic?’

  ‘Guessing – again because of the name.’

  ‘But Joseph can be a Jewish surname, too.’

  Be grinned. ‘Go on then, get the laptop. You know you’re dying to.’

  But Ben’s guess was right. Patrick Brendan Joseph was born of Irish Catholic parents and appeared to have spent all his early life in the same place, where, Libby remembered, Jennifer also lived.

  ‘Blimey,’ said Libby. ‘Jewish wife and children in a Catholic marriage, outspoken political activist and cuckolded wife. Lots there for the police to get their teeth into. I wonder why we haven’t seen a more senior force?’

  ‘I should imagine Ian’s getting right on to it now,’ said Ben. ‘As I said, I expect there’s a major crimes investigation going on already.’

  ‘But why haven’t we seen it?’

  ‘Because they’ve decided it had nothing to do with anyone here?’

  ‘But she was killed here, and by someone who was either already here or who knew about the weekend.’ Libby scowled. ‘I want to know.’

  ‘Yes, darling.’ Ben patted her hand. ‘And I’m sure Ian will tell you as much as he’s able.’

  ‘If he ever bothers to come back to us,’ said Libby gloomily. ‘I bet that co-operation bit of his was a mere sop.’

  But, to Libby’s surprise, later that evening Ian rang.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘I’M AFRAID NOW I’VE been relegated to the man on the ground,’ said Ian.

  Libby sighed. ‘Ben and I were wondering why the big guns hadn’t been brought in.’

  ‘You researched her, then,’ said Ian, sounding amused.

  ‘Of course! Although she doesn’t seem to be as powerful as she used to be.’

  ‘Somewhat of a cipher these days, I gather, but it’s what she represents. So we’ve got an investigation from Scotland Yard – or interference, possibly.’

  ‘And why hadn’t Murray done all those things you thought he should have done?’

  ‘Because he contacted Scotland Yard,’ said Ian. ‘I should have realised.’

  ‘So what will you be doing?’

  ‘I don’t know, quite, but I’ve retrieved the take-away cartons. They came from a pizza place in Canterbury.’

  ‘Blimey, they must have been cold by the time she ate it!’ said Libby. ‘They certainly didn’t deliver.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I wondered if they were dumped there to put us off the scent.’

  ‘Really?’ Libby thought about it. ‘Shall I tell you what Ben and I were talking about?’

  ‘Could I stop you?’

  Libby recounted the theories she and Ben had been discussing.

  ‘It’s all being looked into,’ said Ian. ‘Solomon has been living in the US for years, and Rachel and Zachary joined him as soon as they left school. They’re both in university over there.’

  ‘So they didn’t much like their mother? Or their step-father?’

  ‘No idea, but believe me Scotland Yard are on to it.’ He sighed. ‘I am, however allowed to investigate the – er – small things. Don Murray has happily handed over the case. I have to liaise on everything.’

  ‘Oh, Ian, what a pig. So by small things – that’s the pizza cartons?’

  ‘Yes. Things they haven’t noticed. The false credit card is being looked into at the highest level, of course.’

  ‘But they should notice everything. Isn’t that what they do?’

  ‘We’ll see. Meanwhile, best if you don’t poke around too much. I think you’ll probably be contacted by someone tomorrow, although they seem quite happy currently that we’ve covered the ground – physically, at least.’

  ‘They’re looking into the backgrounds of all the guests?’ asked Libby. ‘Well, of course they are.’

  ‘Oh, yes. And there are enough subversive elements there to keep them happy.’

  ‘Really? What?’

  ‘Oh, Libby.’ Ian laughed. ‘You know I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘So they’re sure it isn’t anything to do with our weekend?’

  ‘I don’t suppose they’re sure of anything,’ said Ian, ‘but they’ll carry on investigating until they are. They’ve already had people going over Patrick’s house in the country and the London flat with a tooth comb.’

  ‘Oh, they’ve got a London flat?’

  ‘Melanie needed it, apparently, because she was – used to be – involved at the headquarters of Green Country most of the time.’

  ‘And advising the government.’

  ‘Until she quarrelled with all the main parties.’

  ‘Yes, I saw that,’ said Libby. ‘Even the Green party?’

  ‘She appeared to have her own idea of what “Green” meant. Anyway, I must go. I just thought you’d like to know.’

  ‘Hoy! Wait a minute! What about Nina Etherington?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Did she ever talk to the police again?’

  ‘I don’t think so. But she’ll be spoken to now, so perhaps she’ll reveal all. Now, I’m going, Libby!’

  Libby relayed the conversation to Ben.

  ‘Isn’t it a bugger?’ she finished. ‘Now we can’t look into anything. It’s worse than when that awful Big Bertha –’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You remember – that tarty blonde superintendent who was involved with the business at Creekmarsh.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Ben grinned. ‘She really didn’t like you, did she?’

  ‘And I didn’t like her. But this time we really can’t get involved. We could be locked up for treason, or something.’

  ‘Talk to Fran about it in the morning,’ said Ben. ‘Now, nightcap? Nice cup of cocoa?’

  Libby threw a cushion at him.

  But in the morning, before Libby could even get dressed, there was a knock at the door. Ben had just driven up Allhallow’s Lane to go and have a look at a tenant farmer’s new sheep, so Libby shuffled to the door and peered out through a crack.

  ‘Mrs Sarjeant?’ A large man in a dark blue suit held up an impressive ID. Beside him, a second man, just as impassive and nearly as big, in a charcoal grey suit, held his up, too.

  Libby sighed and stepped back. ‘Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, madam,’ said blue suit. ‘May we come in?’

  ‘I’d rather not have strange men in my house when I’m on my own,’ said Libby. ‘We can talk on the doorstep.’

  Blue suit and grey suit exchanged surprised glances.

  ‘Would you care to call our superior officer, madam?’

  ‘No, because I don’t know what number you might give me,’ said Libby, reaching behind her to pick up the phone. ‘You just hold on, and I’ll ring DCI Connell.’

  Luckily, Ian’s phone call of yesterday evening had been the last call received so she was able to call back without looking up the number.

  ‘Libby?’ He sounded irritated, as he would when his personal phone rang.

  ‘I’ve got two men here,’ she said, ‘and their names are –’ she beckoned for the two IDs to be held where she could see them ‘– Terence
Jones and Danny Lee. They appear to have genuine IDs. I don’t want to let them in unless I know they’re bona fide.’

  Blue suit and grey suit were now looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  ‘Where’s Ben?’ asked Ian.

  ‘Gone to work.’

  ‘I’d send them up to the Manor, then.’

  ‘No, he’s gone to see a tenant farmer. They’d frighten Hetty.’

  ‘I’ve never known anything frighten Hetty,’ commented Ian. ‘Let me have a word with one of them.’

  Libby handed the phone to blue suit, whose conversation, once he’d introduced himself, consisted mainly of grunts, until he handed it back.

  ‘Let them in, Lib. I’m coming over myself as they need an officer on the ground to show them around, so I’ll come to you first.’

  Libby switched off the phone and regarded the two men warily.

  ‘All right,’ she said, ‘DCI Connell says you can come in as he’s coming here himself.’ She stepped back and allowed them to precede her into the sitting room.

  Blue suit, whom she now knew to be Terence Jones, looked round for somewhere to sit. Libby pulled out the two chairs at the table under the window and waved a hand. Jones and Lee took their seats, still looking uncomfortable, while Libby sat on the sofa. Sidney looked up and glared.

  Jones cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry if we startled you, Mrs Sarjeant,’ he said. ‘And of course very sensible not to let people over the threshold if you aren’t sure of their identity.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Libby. ‘I take it you’re here about the death of Melanie Joseph? Well, I never met her, as I’m sure you’ve seen in the case notes or whatever you call them by now, I only spoke to her on the phone, although of course that need not have been her, especially as she gave the name Ann Marsh, neither had I met any of the other guests except my own personal friends Amanda George and Fran Wolfe.’

  Jones cleared his throat again.

  ‘And you haven’t thought of anything more you can tell us since you were interviewed over the weekend?’ asked Lee.

  ‘I was also interviewed yesterday by DCI Connell, who picked up several things that had not been investigated over the weekend,’ said Libby sharply. ‘I don’t think there’s anything else I can tell you that you can’t find out for yourselves.’

  ‘You don’t own this – er,’ Jones whipped out a notebook and consulted it, ‘Manor?’

  ‘No, my partner Ben Wilde owns it. His mother still lives there. And neither of them had met or knew anything about any of the guests, either.’

  ‘But you organised this weekend break?’ said Lee.

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s not our information,’ said Jones, beginning to look annoyed.

  ‘Then your information is wrong. Lily Cooper, whose address I’m sure you already have, organised it. We were merely the venue.’

  That Jones and Lee were now both annoyed and dying to shout at her, Libby had no doubt, and hugged herself with glee.

  ‘Now we’ve cleared that up,’ she said, ‘perhaps you’d like to go back to your car and wait for DCI Connell. As you can see, I haven’t had a chance to get dressed yet.’

  There was very little the two men could do unless they arrested her and, with very bad grace, they left. Libby watched them get into an anonymous dark saloon, where they were both immediately on their cell phones. Libby grinned, shut the door and went upstairs.

  She’d had a shower and was halfway into her clothes when she heard the door knocker. She threw on a shirt and went downstairs.

  Ian was grinning on the doorstep and the dark saloon was gone.

  ‘I won’t stay,’ he said, ‘but you certainly upset them. They aren’t used to being answered back or refused entry, and they hadn’t been briefed properly either. Luckily, Scotland Yard or not, I outrank both of them.’

  ‘Don’t sick Hetty onto them, then, or they’ll never recover,’ laughed Libby. ‘I didn’t realise Scotland Yard could be so easily intimidated. Oh, and by the way, their department used to be Special Branch, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is, and it’ll be SB to us for ever,’ said Ian. ‘Their new title is far longer.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed it on their ID,’ said Libby. ‘It’s all counter-terrorism and stuff, isn’t it?’

  ‘Among other things,’ said Ian. ‘Covert ops, all sorts of exciting stuff.’

  ‘And murdered ex-politicos.’ Libby shook her head. ‘Off you go then. Ben will be back at the Manor soon if you need back-up.’

  ‘All I need is to brief these goons properly,’ said Ian, ‘and teach them not to barge all over the territory with their great flat feet.’

  ‘Can’t see them doing covert ops,’ grinned Libby.

  Ian drove off and Libby rang Fran.

  ‘So,’ she concluded, ‘it really is out of our hands now, although Ian doesn’t seem to place much faith in Scotland Yard – or whoever they are.’

  ‘No.’ There was a pause. ‘We could, of course, warn everyone.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘The guests. You’ve got all their phone numbers. We could call them and warn them they’re going to be investigated by Scotland Yard.’

  ‘They’ll all know that by now,’ said Libby. ‘I expect Jones and Lee’s brothers-in-arms have paid them all visits.’

  ‘They haven’t paid me one,’ said Fran, ‘and I was a guest.’

  ‘Ah. But they’ll have been looking into backgrounds without people knowing.’

  ‘So we should warn them.’

  ‘Oh, you are clever, Fran! And then we can get them chatting?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Libby. ‘Do you think it isn’t politically motivated?’

  ‘I’ve absolutely no idea,’ said Fran, ‘but she was murdered at the Manor. There must be a link to someone or something there, and I want to find it.’

  ‘So does Ian and so do Scotland Yard. Are you suggesting we’d do a better job?’

  ‘No, but we can always get people to talk to us. Especially as we’re in the same boat as they are.’

  ‘Solidarity sort of thing?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Fran. ‘Were you planning anything special today?’

  ‘I hope that wasn’t a pun,’ said Libby. ‘No, I wasn’t. Are you coming here, or shall I come to you?’

  ‘I’ll come to you. Nearer the seat of operations,’ said Fran. ‘I’m on my way.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘I FORGOT TO ASK,’ said Libby as Fran sat at the table and opened her laptop, ‘how were Chrissie and Brucie last night?’

  ‘Ghastly, thanks,’ said Fran.

  ‘Ah. And baby Montana?’

  Fran screwed up her face. ‘I suppose I’ll get used to it eventually.’

  ‘I didn’t mean her name – after all, it’s not as bad as some of them you hear these days. I meant how was she?’

  ‘She cried a lot.’ Fran sighed. ‘I couldn’t help comparing her to Jane and Terry’s Imogen.’

  ‘That’s very disloyal,’ said Libby in mock disapproval. ‘And Jane and Terry will have terrible trouble later, while Montana will turn into a positive paragon.’

  Fran smiled. ‘Yes, I know. Go on, put the kettle on and we’ll make a start on these calls.’

  ‘Lots of them will be at work,’ called Libby from the kitchen. ‘Try the women first.’

  ‘On the basis that they’re least likely to be at work? That’s a bit sexist, isn’t it?’

  Libby poked her head round the kitchen door. ‘No, I meant those two who shared a room. They were both of a certain age, weren’t they?’

  ‘Audrey Glenister and Bernice Weldon.’ Fran ran her finger down the list Libby had printed out. No email address for either of them, or mobile numbers.’

  ‘Told you they were of a certain age,’ said Libby.

  ‘What’s got into you this morning?’ Fran turned round to look at her friend. ‘That’s a bit sweeping.’

  ‘Must be because I was upset b
y Scotland Yard.’ Libby looked shamefaced. ‘Sorry. I bet they’re complete silver surfers.’

  ‘I’ll ring them, though, just in case you say something you shouldn’t,’ said Fran, taking out her own mobile. Libby opened her mouth to protest and shut it again with a snap.

  Fran’s side of the conversation was not particularly illuminating. She informed Audrey Glenister of what was happening, explained the situation and suggested she talk to her friend Bernice and come back to Fran if they wanted to talk it over. After which, she spent nearly five minutes listening to an obviously excited woman and making wind-up motions.

  ‘Did she say anything interesting?’ asked Libby, who was now sitting beside Fran at the table.

  ‘No, although she said a lot. She did wonder if her husband’s ex-job with the civil service would come up if she was investigated by Scotland Yard, but as he was in the housing department of local government I don’t suppose it will.’

  ‘She sounded excited.’

  ‘She was. I should think this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to her. And her friend sounds the same.’

  ‘Who next, then?’ Libby pulled the list towards her. ‘Lily Cooper? She’s more involved than some of the others.’

  ‘You can do her,’ said Fran. ‘I deserve a rest.’

  Lily Cooper sounded as though she was somewhere with a lot of people.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Cooper, am I disturbing you? It’s Libby Sarjeant here.’

  ‘Wait a moment.’ Libby heard movement and suddenly the background noise was cut out. ‘I’m at work. What did you want?’

  Encouraging, thought Libby. ‘Actually, Mrs Cooper, I just wanted to warn you –’

  ‘Warn me? Are you threatening me?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Libby hastily. ‘It’s Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Scotland Yard?’

  Libby took a deep breath. ‘You obviously know that Melanie Joseph had political links.’

  ‘Did she?’

  Bloody hell, thought Libby. ‘Yes, I thought you’d know. She was a government advisor and sat on committees.’

  ‘Oh, that.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ Libby went on, ‘because of that it was thought best to bring in the specialists, so I had a visit from two Scotland Yard detectives – their department used to be Special Branch and has a new name now, but that’s effectively who they are – this morning and they are investigating everyone’s backgrounds. We thought we ought to warn you.’