Murder Out of Tune - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Read online

  ‘Shares the one in Shott, didn’t Patti say?’

  Libby sighed. ‘Oh, well, we’ll have to go home I suppose. Let’s go back to The Poacher.’

  Fran found a place to turn the car and drove back to the pub.

  ‘Find what you were looking for?’ asked Sid, as they went into the bar.

  ‘Not really,’ said Libby. ‘Can we have coffee, please?’

  ‘What sort?’ Sid’s hand hovered over the smart coffee machine.

  ‘Black,’ said Fran.

  ‘White,’ said Libby. ‘We’re the despair of the baristas.’

  Sid grinned.

  ‘Do you know all the members of the ukulele group, Sid?’ asked Fran, hitching herself on to a stool.

  ‘Most of ʼem. Why?’

  ‘Do you know Alan Farrow? Only he married a friend of mine from Steeple Martin, Sandra Brown,’ said Libby.

  ‘Course I know Alan and Sandra, they’re regulars. Fancy you knowing Sandra.’

  ‘Not so surprising, really,’ said Fran. ‘It’s a very small part of the world.’

  ‘That’s so.’ Sid pushed their mugs towards them. ‘Sandra and Alan met at a darts match over your way, I seem to remember.’

  ‘Darts? Sandra doesn’t play darts, does she?’

  ‘Captain of our ladies team,’ said Sid. ‘Do you 180 soon as look at you.’

  ‘Really? I never knew,’ said Libby, shaking her head. ‘I must tell Una.’

  ‘Then there’s poor Mike,’ said Fran, glancing up under her eyebrows. ‘Shame about him.’

  ‘Shame? What do you mean? Mike Farthing?’

  ‘He’s got the police round again,’ said Libby with a theatrical sigh.

  ‘Mike?’ Sid sounded incredulous. ‘The most law-abiding bloke there is.’

  ‘But you’d have said that about Vernon Bowling, wouldn’t you?’ said Libby.

  Fran kicked her. ‘And then he got murdered,’ she said.

  Sid frowned. ‘Yeah. Never can tell. Derek Chandler, now. Lives in Itching. Know him, do you?’

  ‘The solicitor? Yes.’ Libby glanced warily at Fran. ‘We – er – know a bit about him.’

  ‘Not surprised. That old biddy lives in your village – she said he was trying to con her, didn’t she?’

  ‘But I thought he was cleared?’

  Sid tapped his nose. ‘Mud sticks.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Libby. ‘Poor Mr Chandler.’

  Sid sniffed. ‘Not my type. Doesn’t stop for a drink, ever. He was a bit chummy with Bowling, like.’

  ‘Oh?’ Fran moved her coffee mug with a forefinger. ‘Did he act for him when he bought the house?’

  Sid looked startled. ‘I – I don’t know. Quite likely, I suppose. But Bowling had that house built.’

  ‘Yes, we know,’ said Libby. ‘It’s the same as Ron Stewart’s, isn’t it?’

  ‘Look, I told you before –’

  ‘It’s all right Sid, the police know all about that. They’ve had to talk to Stewart, obviously. Now,’ said Fran, ‘what have you got on the lunch menu?’

  Mollified, Sid fetched a menu which consisted mainly of toasted or untoasted sandwiches.

  ‘That was an inspired guess about Chandler,’ said Libby when they were seated at a table in the window overlooking the green.

  ‘That’s all it is, a guess,’ said Fran, ‘but it makes sense.’

  ‘So Chandler would know who the architect is.’

  ‘I should imagine the police do now,’ said Fran. ‘And they’ll have spoken to Ron Stewart again.’

  ‘They do. I told you, Ian said so last night. I was just linking people up.’

  ‘And it’s obvious that the whole cannabis factory thing hasn’t leaked out yet. That’s why I had to shut you up.

  ‘Oh?’ Libby raised her eyebrows. ‘So why mention Ron Stewart’s house and the joint architect?’

  ‘That’s just a connection between Stewart and Bowling.’

  Sid came over with two plates of sandwiches and crisps. ‘Enjoy.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Libby with a bright smile. Then quietly to Fran, ‘Should we try and call Cass? Let her know where we are?’

  Fran shrugged. ‘You can try, but if the police are still questioning her she won’t be able to answer.’

  ‘They can’t still be talking to her! She’s only known Mike a few days.’

  ‘There will be records of their online communications for – how long did she say?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know – years. And phone.’

  ‘There you are. They won’t believe they’ve only just met. Especially as it looks as though she spent the night with him. They aren’t youngsters who jump into bed on the first date.’

  ‘I still don’t know what they think they’re going to find at Mike’s place. It’s already been searched.’ Libby pushed moodily at a crisp.

  ‘Not by the drugs squad. I expect they’ll bring in dogs.’

  ‘They already did. Oh, dear.’ Libby took out her phone. ‘Still, I’m going to try.’ She keyed in Cassandra’s number, but after a moment, she shook her head. ‘No, you were right. It’s gone to voicemail.’ She put the phone away. ‘Do you suppose that officer will have spoken to Ian?’

  ‘Maybe. Or he’ll have asked Cass to explain.’

  They ate their sandwiches in silence, and were just about to leave, when the door crashed open and Cassandra burst in.

  ‘Libby! Do something! They’ve arrested Mike!’

  Chapter Nineteen

  The only other customer in the bar peered over the top of his newspaper and shook his grey head. Sid came hurrying out from behind the bar.

  ‘Mike? They’ve arrested Mike? What for?’

  ‘I don’t know. They questioned me for ages and then sent me outside. That’s when I saw the dogs.’

  Libby nodded. ‘Told you they would. Did that officer get in touch with Ian?’

  ‘I don’t know. He asked me about you.’ Cassandra sank down on a chair. ‘Could I have a drink, please?’

  ‘Are you driving?’ asked Sid.

  ‘No,’ said Libby. ‘If she can leave her car here, I’ll take her home with me. What do you want, Cass?’

  ‘Brandy,’ said Sid. ‘You two want anything?’

  ‘Another coffee?’ said Fran. ‘I’ll fetch them.’

  ‘So who’s that?’ asked Sid, as she followed him to the bar.

  ‘Libby’s cousin Cassandra,’ said Fran. ‘Friend of Mike’s.’

  ‘Close friend, if you ask me,’ said Sid. ‘I’ve never seen her.’

  ‘No, she lives in London. But I think she’s thinking of – er – moving down …’

  ‘Be good for Mike if she did,’ said Sid, loading mugs and a brandy goblet on to a tray. ‘Not if he’s …’

  ‘Going to prison,’ Fran finished for him. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’

  ‘He couldn’t have murdered Bowling,’ said Sid. ‘Just not possible.’

  Fran smiled, but said nothing, and carried the tray back to where Libby and Cassandra were now sitting in silence.

  ‘Libby says she can’t do anything.’ Cassandra appealed to Fran. ‘She can, can’t she?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Fran in a low voice. ‘Our only inside contact with the police is Ian, and this is an arrest by the drugs squad by the look of things. The whole case will have been referred to them because of the cannabis factory. Nobody would take any notice of us.’

  ‘But why? I don’t understand it. He hadn’t got any cannabis plants – they searched before.’

  ‘There must be something,’ said Libby, ‘they wouldn’t arrest him without a good reason.’

  ‘But you hear of people being arrested for the daftest of reasons these days.’ Cassandra was obviously desperate. ‘Somebody must be able to get him out.’

  ‘He’ll be asked if he wants a solicitor,’ said Fran.

  ‘Let’s just hope it isn’t Derek Chandler,’ said Libby.

  ‘If it’s part of the whole Bowl
ing case, then Chandler is a possible witness, even if he isn’t a suspect, so he wouldn’t be allowed to attend,’ said Fran.

  Cassandra sipped her brandy and coughed. ‘How can we find out, then?’

  Fran and Libby exchanged glances.

  ‘We can’t,’ said Libby. ‘None of us are related to Mike. And I called Ian to tell him they were questioning you, so he knows there’s something going on.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He didn’t. I left messages on both his phones.’

  Cassandra banged her brandy goblet on to the table with a hiss of frustration.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ said Fran. ‘I promised Guy I’d be back to shop-sit.’

  ‘And I’m driving myself home,’ said Cassandra, standing up. ‘One brandy isn’t going to affect me.’

  Libby cast a despairing look at Sid behind the bar, who shrugged. ‘All right, I’ll follow you,’ she said. ‘Hold on while I pay Sid.’

  Sid waved his hands and shook his head. ‘On the house. Keep me informed.’

  Libby smiled gratefully. ‘We will, Sid, thanks.’

  ‘Aren’t publicans nice?’ she said, as they stood outside in the car park.

  ‘Mostly,’ said Fran.

  Cassandra was getting into her car.

  ‘I’d better go,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t know what I could do if she crashed, but I’d be there …’

  Cassandra appeared in complete control of her car, however. She took the sharp, narrow corners in Itching carefully and drove sedately along the Canterbury road back to Steeple Martin, where, instead of parking in the high street as near to The Pink Geranium as possible, she turned into Allhallow’s Lane and parked opposite number seventeen.

  ‘Sorry, Libby,’ she said, as Libby got out of her own car. ‘I don’t want to just sit in that flat on my own, waiting for news.’

  ‘No, all right, come in.’ Libby opened the door and fell over Sidney. ‘Watch the cat.’

  Cassandra took off her coat and sat on the chair by the empty fireplace.

  ‘Hold on a mo and I’ll light the fire,’ said Libby. ‘Do you want tea or anything?’

  Cassandra shook her head. ‘Not yet. Maybe later.’

  Libby bustled about fetching kindling and keeping up an inconsequential flow of chatter.

  ‘It’s all right, Lib. You don’t have to try and keep my mind off things.’ Cassandra cut into a wandering diatribe against the iniquities of the local council.

  Libby sat back on her heels and watched the kindling catch. ‘OK. How about telling me how you and Mike have got to this stage of a relationship so quickly? And how much you actually know about him?’

  Cassandra bristled. ‘Are you saying he might be guilty?’

  ‘Of what? I have no idea. Neither do you.’

  Cassandra looked confused.

  ‘So go on. How come this rush of lust swept you both off your feet?’

  ‘Don’t speak of it like that.’ Cassandra scowled at her cousin. ‘And you don’t know how it felt.’

  ‘No, I don’t. Ben and I had a rocky time at the beginning because we were both over fifty and not sure how to manage a proper relationship. It did take a murder to bring us together, though.’

  Cassandra sighed. ‘I suppose the murder has accelerated it for us, too. But I can’t tell you what I felt when I first spoke to him last Thursday. It was like the room lighting up.’

  ‘It looked like it,’ said Libby.

  ‘And I found myself watching for any little signs – you know, his eyes catching mine, or an accidental touch – just like a bloody teenager.’

  ‘Cass! I’ve never heard you swear!’

  ‘And he felt the same. All the way through that meeting on Friday morning, I could tell. And then when he came over on Friday evening …’

  ‘Weren’t you tempted to ask him to stay at the flat on Saturday after we’d had dinner?’

  ‘No. Everyone would have known.’ Cassandra’s colour was creeping up her neck. ‘I didn’t think anyone would notice last night.’

  ‘How did that happen, then? Did he ask you over?’

  ‘No.’ Now the colour had crept right up to Cassandra’s hairline. ‘I just turned up.’

  ‘Did he mind?’

  ‘No.’ Cassandra held out her hands to the fire. Libby put a log on and gave it a poke.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Not the details, Lib. Sorry.’

  ‘OK. So now you’ve slept together and he’s been arrested. And he said nothing to you about Vernon Bowling, or the murder or anything?’

  ‘No. We weren’t really thinking about anything but ourselves.’ Cassandra shook her head as if to clear it. ‘It comes as such a shock after being on your own for years and having no interest in the opposite sex to suddenly feel – well, like a teenager, as I said. And to find out that you haven’t …’ She ground to a halt.

  ‘Lost the ability,’ suggested Libby. ‘Or capacity.’

  Cassandra nodded and Libby stood up.

  ‘Are you ready for that tea now?’

  Libby’s phone began to burble. She fished it out of her bag.

  ‘Ian!’

  ‘What were you telling me, Libby? Your cousin’s been arrested?’

  ‘No, no. She was questioned. Mike’s been arrested, by the drugs squad, I think.’

  ‘Yes, so I’ve just been informed.’ Ian’s voice was grim. ‘There’s rather a lot of inter-departmental wrangling going on right now. What about your cousin?’

  Libby explained. Cassandra was on her feet, her hands gripped together.

  ‘Is she with you now? Can I speak to her?’

  Libby handed over the phone and went back to the kitchen. Just as she was putting mugs on the table Cassandra came in and handed back the phone.

  ‘He says he’ll let us know what’s happened if he can.’ Cassandra pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. ‘And he said he’ll tell the drugs squad about me. And you, actually.’

  ‘Well, that’s all we can hope for, isn’t it?’ Libby poured tea. ‘Wouldn’t you rather go back to London and your normal life? Keep your mind off it all?’

  ‘No. I might pop back and fetch more clothes, if Harry doesn’t mind me staying in the flat a bit longer. I’ve offered him rent.’

  ‘Oh, he won’t accept that. Fran and Adam have both had fights with him about rent.’

  ‘But I’m using the heating and hot water. He ought to take a contribution to those.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. When will you go?’

  Cassandra frowned. ‘I could go now, couldn’t I? I won’t be able to see Mike until he’s released – when will that be?’

  ‘No idea. It depends on what they’re holding him for, and what his solicitor can do to get him out. I wouldn’t bank on today.’

  ‘I’ll go in a bit, then. Shall I phone Harry?’

  ‘No, I’ll do it,’ said Libby. ‘Drink your tea, then you can go. Unless you want to pick anything up from the flat?’

  ‘No, I’ve got my keys with me. I’ll probably stay overnight and come back in the morning.’ Cassandra put her hand over Libby’s. ‘You will call me if anything happens, won’t you?’

  ‘If I hear anything, of course.’ Libby patted Cassandra’s hand in turn. ‘I’m now going to utter one of the most useless phrases in the English language. Try not to worry.’

  When Cassandra had gone, Libby called Harry.

  ‘Course she can stay. So it’s a real love match between her and Mike, then, is it?’

  ‘Seems to have taken them both by surprise,’ said Libby. ‘I just hope this whole arrest thing is a mistake, that’s all. Ian didn’t sound too happy about it.’

  ‘Well, he was issuing a warning last night, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but this is the drugs squad. I don’t know how they got involved.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Lib! Ian could hardly have kept the cannabis factory quiet. I expect his superintendent got a request from the drugs people and couldn’t refuse.’r />
  ‘But what could they find that Ian’s crowd didn’t? There were no cannabis plants in the greenhouses.’

  ‘Equipment? Letters? Emails? Phone calls? Could be anything, not just actual plants.’

  ‘You’re a comfort.’

  ‘I know. Little ray of sunshine, me.’

  Unable to settle to anything, Libby put her cape back on and set off for Maltby Close.

  ‘Come in, gal.’ Flo held the door open on to a fug of cigarette smoke. Lenny, dapper in white shirt and cravat, rose from his chair by the electric fire.

  ‘What can we do for you?’ Flo sat down in her own chair and waved Libby to a seat. ‘Got more trouble with that Monica Turner?’

  ‘No, Flo, actually, I wanted to ask if you knew anything about her friend, Vi Little. And Derek Chandler, the solicitor who apparently tried to swindle her.’

  Flo’s eyes twinkled. ‘I should say so, gal! Bugger tried it on me, too!’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘He what?’

  ‘Course, ʼe didn’t get anywhere, stands to reason. And it was me told Vi Little. And that Turner then tried to blame me. Cor! Takes the biscuit, that woman.’

  ‘So, what exactly happened?’

  Lenny moved towards the tiny kitchen. ‘Shall I make us a cuppa, then?’

  ‘Not for me, thanks, Lenny,’ said Libby. ‘I’m awash with coffee and tea.’

  ‘Nice droppa Merlot, then?’ offered Flo.

  ‘No thanks, Flo. Bit early for me.’

  Flo eyed her guest dubiously. ‘Not like you, gal.’

  ‘I’m not that bad!’ laughed Libby. ‘So come on, Flo. Tell me what happened with Derek Chandler.’

  ‘I got this email, see.’

  ‘Email? I didn’t know you were online!’

  ‘Course I am, gal. Got to be these days, ain’tcher? Anyway, I got this email from this Chandler, looked all official, like, sayin’ that I got this inheritance comin’ from a distant relative, and wantin’ me details to confirm I was ʼoo I said I was.’

  ‘Did you have a distant relative?’

  ‘If I ʼad, it’d be pretty bloody distant! Nah – it was a scam. Just wanted me bank details. So I phoned ʼem. And this Chandler, they said ʼe wasn’t there, but they’d take a message. So I told ʼem just what I thought of ʼem. They was shocked. All flustered and “Sorry, madam, don’t know anything about it,” you know.’