Murder in Bloom Read online

  As she plodded back up Allhallow’s Lane, her mobile rang.

  ‘Hi, Lib. You called?’

  ‘Did you not listen to the message?’

  ‘No – I just saw one missed call and it was you. What’s up?’

  Libby explained, slowing to a halt under the lilac tree. The scent was calming.

  ‘Right,’ said Ben. ‘So basically, this Lewis wants to talk to you about the murder and the house? And Adam’s moved in?’

  Libby’s heart sank. ‘Only temporarily,’ she said. ‘Just until things are sorted out.’

  ‘Well, you won’t want me there this evening, that’s for sure,’ he said. ‘Mum’ll be happy to see a bit more of me. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  ‘OK. Ben –’

  ‘Speak to you then. Bye, love.’

  Libby was left holding a dead mobile to her ear and feeling as though she might burst into tears. Again.

  Lewis had said he would arrive around seven, and by 6.30 Libby had all the food ready and waiting and she and Adam were decently clothed and watching the local news together. There was a brief mention of the Creekmarsh case, but it had obviously been relegated to the ‘other news’. Adam reached for the remote and switched off.

  ‘So tell me what’s up with Ben,’ he said. ‘Why isn’t he coming tonight?’

  Libby sighed and explained to the best of her ability, waiting for the inevitable ‘I told you so’. It didn’t come.

  ‘He’s a prat, Ma,’ said Adam, getting up to give her a hug. ‘Nice bloke and all that, but a prat.’

  ‘I thought you were on his side?’

  ‘In a way, but he’s using emotional blackmail now, and that’s wrong.’

  Libby thought about it. ‘I suppose he is,’ she said. ‘How horrible. I’d never have thought it of him.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he sees it like that,’ said Adam, quite the wise young judge. ‘He just doesn’t want to lay up any more grief for himself if you’re not going to commit to a life together. Sensible, in a way.’ He turned away and poured drinks for them both.

  Libby looked at him in horror. ‘Now you’ve completely confused me,’ she said. ‘He’s a blackmailing prat, but a sensible one?’

  He handed her a glass with a cheerful smile. ‘Yup. Cheers!’

  The knocker rapped loudly.

  ‘That’s Lewis,’ said Adam. ‘I’ll get it.’

  This evening Lewis Osbourne-Walker was far from the ebullient young presenter of television’s most popular home design programme. His spiky blonde hair drooped, and his cherubic face had a distinct lack of the angelic about it.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Adam, indicating the chair. ‘Drink?’

  ‘Got any water?’

  ‘Plenty in the tap,’ said Adam.

  Lewis grimaced. ‘Yeah. Sorry. Prat, aren’t I?’

  Libby and Adam exchanged amused glances.

  ‘’Course not.’ Adam made a face. ‘Tap water – juice?’ He cocked an eyebrow at his mother.

  ‘Apple juice,’ said Libby, ‘or tonic water?’

  ‘Tonic water’d be nice,’ said Lewis, brightening.

  When they were seated, Lewis leant back in the armchair and closed his eyes. Libby and Adam exchanged another significant look.

  ‘Come on, then, Lewis, tell us all about it,’ said Adam. ‘What’s been going on?’

  Chapter Nine

  LEWIS OPENED HIS EYES and looked nervously from Adam to Libby.

  ‘They found Tony yesterday morning.’ He took a sip of his tonic water. ‘In his bedroom.’

  ‘Yes, it said that on television,’ said Libby.

  ‘And my prints were all over it.’

  Libby and Adam looked at one another.

  ‘How did they have your prints?’

  ‘They asked for them yesterday.’

  ‘Tell us from the beginning, Lewis. What happened when you went to talk to the police yesterday morning?’ said Libby.

  He sighed. ‘They asked who I bought the house from, and in the end, of course, I had to tell ’em, didn’t I? I said Tony. Because I don’t actually know who owned it. So this other copper who was with Big Bertha leant over, like, and whispered in her ear. Then she went out of the room.’

  ‘And?’ prompted Adam.

  ‘Then she came back and asked me how well I’d known Tony.’ Lewis reddened. ‘So I said he was a mate, like. Then they asked me if they could take fingerprints. I couldn’t say no, could I?’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘They went on questioning me. They gave me some lunch and then this bloke from London appeared and he and Big Bertha interviewed me together. Then, o’ course, they tells me about Tony and my prints being there. And that Tony didn’t hold title – or something – to my house. It belonged to some famous bloke. Well, I knew that. Not that he was famous, though.’

  ‘Who was the famous bloke?’ asked Adam.

  ‘Some actor. Can’t remember, although they did tell me.’

  ‘And they confirmed that he was missing, as Tony told you?’ said Libby.

  ‘Yeah. They think the skeleton is him.’

  ‘So did you,’ said Libby.

  ‘Yeah, well, now they can do whatsit – DNA – on him. It.’

  ‘At least you couldn’t have killed him,’ said Adam.

  ‘They don’t know that,’ said Lewis gloomily. ‘They reckon I must’ve known him and killed him and then tried to buy the house so no one would ever find him.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Adam.

  ‘How did you first find the house?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Tony brought me down here once,’ said Lewis. ‘Took me into the house. Said it belonged to a friend who’d asked him to look after it. He wanted some details copied for the Hampstead place, he said, but I don’t believe it. He wanted to get me down here. He knew I’d fall for the place, being a common cockney bloke with whatsits of grandeur.’

  ‘Delusions,’ said Adam helpfully.

  ‘That’s them,’ Lewis nodded.

  ‘So how, if the house still belonged to this missing person, did Tony manage to sell it to you legally?’

  ‘He had something to show he could do it. Some legal thing. Power something.’

  ‘Power of attorney?’ Libby’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Why?’

  ‘How do I know?’ said Lewis pettishly. ‘He just did.’

  ‘Was he a relative?’

  ‘Look, Lib,’ said Lewis, blowing out a sigh, ‘I don’t know any more than they told me, which wasn’t much, except to tell me I could go back home and it was mine.’

  ‘But you’re still a suspect?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Wouldn’t they have made me pay bail if I was?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Libby looked at Adam. ‘Who would know?’

  ‘That Ian person,’ suggested Adam promptly. ‘He’d know. He’d know about Big Bertha, too.’

  ‘I can’t ring Ian!’ said Libby, scandalised.

  ‘Fran could.’

  Libby chewed her lip. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll call her after we’ve eaten.’ She looked at Lewis. ‘So what happens next?’

  ‘They said to keep in touch and let them know my movements. Can’t leave the country, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Well, they have got a potential double murder on their hands,’ said Libby. ‘You can’t blame them.’

  ‘If they really thought you could have been behind the skeleton’s burial, why didn’t they tell you this missing person’s name?’ said Adam.

  ‘They did, I told you. I just can’t remember.’

  ‘Honestly, Lewis. How can you not remember?’

  ‘It was all so muddled. And I was bloody scared.’

  He looked belligerent.


  ‘So would I have been, Ma,’ said Adam.

  ‘I know, but that name is really important.’ Libby sighed and stood up. ‘Come on, let’s eat. You don’t mind the kitchen, do you, Lewis?’

  They managed to stay off the subject of the murders while they ate, and Lewis professed Libby to be almost as good a cook as Katie. Adam grinned and told him of all the disasters that had happened in Libby’s kitchen over the years. ‘She’s only just got the hang of it,’ he laughed.

  ‘Cheek,’ she said, good-humouredly. ‘Actually, Lewis, I was going to ask you if you like vegetarian food?’

  Lewis looked down at his plate, surprised. ‘Yeah, but this wasn’t –’

  ‘No, no, it’s just that our friends Harry and Peter have a veggie restaurant in the village called The Pink Geranium. Harry’s the chef. They do a lot of Mexican food. I thought you might like to try it sometime.’

  His face brightened. ‘They the mates you told me about, Ad?’

  Adam nodded. ‘Nice blokes. Pete’s some kind of hotshot journalist so he’s often in London, but he works from home mostly.’

  ‘Journalist?’ Lewis looked wary.

  ‘Not that sort,’ comforted Libby. ‘Political and features, mainly. No sludge gathering.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I’d love to give it a try if you’ll come with me.’ He looked at them both like a particularly soulful spaniel.

  ‘’Course we will,’ grinned Adam.

  ‘Come on then,’ said Libby. ‘If you’ve finished we’ll go into the sitting room and I’ll call Fran.’

  Fran, as Libby had predicted, was not happy about calling Ian. Part of it was embarrassment, Ian having been a former suitor who lost out to Guy, and the other part was Fran’s unwillingness to butt into the investigation.

  ‘All right,’ huffed Libby, eventually. ‘Give me his number and I’ll call him. I’ll tell him about the wedding, which will be much better than him just finding out.’

  Fran demurred, but in the end decided to give Libby the number. ‘I feel a terrible coward not facing up to telling him, but there’s no real reason why I should, is there?’

  ‘None at all, but I can be concerned about him. I can even sympathise and hint about the problems it’s causing with Ben,’ said Libby.

  ‘Oh, Libby!’ Fran almost shouted. ‘Don’t you dare. If you’re going to say that sort of thing I shan’t give you the number.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry.’ Libby gave the phone a shamefaced look. ‘I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘All right. But promise you won’t.’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘OK. I’ll text you the number when I’ve found it.’

  ‘Lovely, thanks –’ said Libby, but Fran had gone.

  ‘You do put your foot in it sometimes, Ma,’ said Adam.

  Libby sighed. ‘I know. I don’t think before I speak half the time, do I?’

  The number came through very soon afterwards and after pouring herself a large glass of wine, Libby took a deep breath and punched it in.

  ‘Connell,’ said a gruff voice on the first ring.

  ‘Ian?’ said Libby. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you. It’s Libby Sarjeant. Are you in the middle of something?’

  ‘Libby?’ Ian sounded surprised. ‘No – well, I’m in the middle of paperwork and I should have gone home hours ago. What’s up?’

  ‘Ah – well,’ said Libby, not sure how to begin now the moment had come. ‘Had you heard about Fran?’

  ‘She and Guy are getting married, I understand.’ Ian’s voice didn’t change. He couldn’t be that upset.

  ‘Yes. I thought you might not know,’ said Libby sheepishly.

  ‘So you thought you’d enlighten me? Very kind.’ He sounded amused. ‘But not necessary. Things get around very quickly in a small place like Nethergate.’

  ‘Then you’ll know all about the Creekmarsh business?’

  There was a pause. ‘Of course. Libby, what’s this about? You didn’t ring up about Fran at all, did you? You know I can’t tell you anything.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Libby, ‘just, I wanted to know, as they’ve let my friend Lewis go, is he bailed? They didn’t ask him for any money.’

  ‘Your friend?’ said Ian. Libby saw Lewis and Adam flinch as the voice thundered out of the receiver. ‘What the hell are you getting into now?’

  ‘Nothing, Ian, honestly,’ said Libby, crossing her eyes at the boys. Lewis giggled. ‘Lewis is actually a friend of Adam’s. My son? He’s been doing the –’

  ‘Garden, yes, I know. He and his friend found the skeleton. I didn’t connect the two names, more fool me. There can’t be many Sarjeants with a J around.’

  ‘Right.’ Libby let out a breath. ‘So, you see, I’ve got a legitimate interest.’

  ‘And you shouldn’t be talking to me about it,’ said Ian, ‘but as it happens, your friend hasn’t been bailed. They’ll want to speak to him again, probably several times, but once they found that the sale of Creekmarsh was legitimate –’

  ‘Was it power of attorney?’ interrupted Libby.

  ‘Yes.’ Ian was beginning to sound even more irritated.

  ‘Right. Oh, just one more thing,’ said Libby, ignoring the spluttering at the other end, ‘who was the actor West had power of attorney for?’

  ‘Oh, you don’t know that, eh? Antennae slipping are they? Surely your friend Lewis knows?’

  ‘He says he can’t remember.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Libby. I don’t believe that for a second. Now you just tell him to do exactly as Superintendent Bertram tells him and not to go investigating on his own. Or rather,’ said Ian, taking a deep breath, ‘getting you to do it for him.’

  ‘OK, Ian, I get the picture. And thanks.’

  She looked over at the boys and sipped her wine. ‘He wouldn’t tell me. Said he didn’t believe you couldn’t remember, but that you aren’t on bail. And warned me off.’

  ‘I gathered that,’ said Adam. ‘You can’t blame the poor bloke.’

  ‘And I found out that Big Bertha’s name is really Bertram.’

  Adam shrugged. ‘Well, you can see how she got the name, can’t you?’

  ‘Anyway, Lewis, you’re a free man. And the missing actor –’

  ‘Is Gerald Shepherd. I’ve just remembered.’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘GERALD SHEPHERD?’ REPEATED LIBBY.

  ‘Who’s he?’ asked Adam.

  ‘He was huge in the seventies and eighties,’ said Libby. ‘You’d know his face. Mainly television and films, but he did quite a bit on stage, too. He had that detective show Flanagan’s Army.’

  ‘Oh, him! Wow. He really is famous.’

  ‘Was.’ Libby turned to Lewis. ‘Why had you forgotten?’

  ‘Honestly, Lib, I don’t know. The name went over my head. I know now, of course, but at the time it didn’t mean anything. I was just panicked.’

  ‘I can’t see how it didn’t mean anything,’ said Libby, frowning at him. ‘Surely you remember the scandal a few years ago?’

  ‘Scandal? No.’ Lewis shook his head and Adam looked interested.

  ‘He disappeared with his daughter-in-law and has never been seen since.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Adam. ‘But he must have been ancient.’

  ‘In his sixties I should imagine. The daughter-inlaw, or maybe she was the son’s girlfriend, was in her twenties as I remember.’

  ‘Dirty old man,’ said Lewis, wrinkling his nose. ‘No, I don’t remember, sorry.’

  ‘I think drugs were involved somewhere along the line, too,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll look it up tomorrow.’

  ‘Look it up where?’ said Adam.

  ‘Google it, of course,’ said Libby loftily.

  ‘Well, where does this
leave us?’ asked Lewis. ‘What happens next?’

  ‘You wait for more questions from the police, and I’ll look up the background. There isn’t anything else we can do. As I said, I’ve been warned off.’

  ‘So if the skeleton is this Gerald Shepherd, that means the daughter-in-law chopped him?’

  ‘Possibly, but I don’t see how they’ll ever prove that, even if they could find the daughter-in-law. And I don’t see what it’s got to do with Tony West, either.’

  ‘Perhaps he was her father?’ suggested Adam.

  ‘That’s an idea,’ said Libby.

  Lewis shook his head. ‘Didn’t have any children. His wife didn’t want any, he said.’

  ‘That’s a point,’ said Libby. ‘Where was his wife when he was found?’

  ‘New York,’ said Lewis. ‘Shopping.’

  ‘Ah.’

  A silence fell.

  ‘He still could have been her father,’ said Adam. ‘By someone else.’

  ‘Yes, he could.’ Libby looked thoughtfully at her son. ‘But it still doesn’t explain why he had the power of attorney. And isn’t there something about registering it with the Office of the Public Guardian?’

  ‘The what?’ said Adam and Lewis together.

  ‘I may have got it wrong,’ said Libby, frowning, ‘but I’m pretty sure the old Enduring Power of Attorney has been replaced by something else, so presumably the police will be looking at the date it was registered. And if Gerald Shepherd couldn’t be found, was it legal to sell his house?’

  ‘God, I don’t know,’ said Lewis. ‘All I know is the police said Creekmarsh is mine. If Tony had no right to sell it surely the solicitor would have found out?’

  ‘Yes, but you said you didn’t have one. So Tony’s solicitor could have been bent and glossed over it. Presumably the police have checked the Land Registry or they wouldn’t have said it was legally yours.’