Murder on the Run Page 8

  ‘OK?’

  ‘Fine.’ Ben washed his hands at the kitchen sink. ‘They said someone else tried to get in earlier on this morning, though.’

  ‘Really? Cheeky.’

  ‘Whoever it was managed to turn round and drive away, though. But they were all queuing up to get in by the time I got there this morning.’

  ‘What time do they start?’ asked Guy, wandering in from the garden.

  ‘Ten o’clock,’ said Ben. ‘It’ll be all over by the time the pub opens.’

  Libby, Ben, Fran and Guy watched the field go past from the corner of Allhallow’s Lane, and when the last stragglers had passed into New Barton Lane, they crossed over and went to wait on the corner of Maltby Close for the winners.

  After a few people had run in to an enthusiastic welcome and refreshments from the ladies in Carpenter’s Hall, the runners trickled to a stop.

  ‘Where are they?’ murmured Fran, as onlookers began to frown and mutter to each other.

  And that was when they heard the sirens.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Text,’ said Libby, fumbling to get her phone out of a pocket.

  ‘Ad,’ she relayed to the others. ‘Oh, God!’

  ‘What?’ Ben took the phone from her hand. ‘Body found,’ he read out and looked up. ‘You don’t suppose …?’

  Fran, who had gone white, shook her head. ‘Can’t see …’

  Guy put his arm round her.

  ‘What shall we do?’ asked Libby. ‘Will they let the runners carry on?’

  She was answered by the appearance of a police car driving very slowly, lights flashing, from New Barton Lane, where it led a crocodile of dispirited walkers. The onlookers watched in silence as the little convoy approached, until the police car pulled up across the high street and the erstwhile runners funnelled into Maltby Close. Friends and relations joined them, asking questions in agitated whispers. Adam and Sophie were not among them.

  ‘Where are they?’ Fran grabbed Libby’s arm, as near to panic as Libby had ever seen her.

  ‘I don’t know – perhaps they were the ones that found the – er – body.’ Libby covered Fran’s hand with her own. ‘Nothing will have happened to them. The police are there. Look – Ben’s gone over to ask the officer.’

  Ben returned.

  ‘The group of people who found the body were kept at the scene to wait for the SIO,’ he reported.

  ‘Will it be Ian?’ asked Libby.

  ‘If he sees it’s Steeple Martin, I expect so. We’ll know soon enough.’

  ‘What shall we do?’ asked Fran suddenly. ‘We can’t just stand here doing nothing.’

  ‘Well,’ said Libby doubtfully, ‘we could go into Carpenter’s Hall for refreshments.’

  ‘No, we’d get bombarded by questions,’ said Ben. ‘Let’s go and wait in the pub. I’ll pop into the caff on the way to tell Pete and Harry.’

  Libby sent an unanswered text to Adam to tell him where they were, while Guy did the same to Sophie. Fran sat silent and pale while Ben, joined by Peter, fetched drinks.

  ‘What is it?’ Libby asked her quietly. ‘What did you see? Or not see?’ she added, remembering Fran’s first words on hearing Adam’s text.

  ‘It was like –’ Fran took a deep breath. ‘Do you remember me telling you about when I felt Aunt Eleanor’s death? It was like that.’

  ‘Suffocation?’ said Libby, feeling a shiver of horror.

  ‘I couldn’t see.’ Fran dropped her eyes to her lap. ‘It was horrible. Thank God I don’t get many of these any more. I never want another one. And it isn’t going to help, anyway.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’ Libby tried to be bracing. Fran looked up with a wry smile.

  ‘Rubbish. We’re old hands now. It isn’t.’

  The door of the pub opened and Sophie and Adam, both as pale as Fran, came in and more or less collapsed on the benches round the table.

  Fran held up a hand as the others began to speak.

  ‘Let them tell us what they can without us asking questions,’ she said and Adam smiled at her gratefully.

  ‘Ian’s the SIO and said he’d talk to us later. The first officers on the scene asked a lot of questions, but weren’t really up to speed on the – er – the – well, Lisa’s disappearance.’ He swallowed hard.

  ‘Was it Lisa?’ Fran asked quietly.

  Sophie and Adam nodded.

  ‘How –’ began Libby, but Ben silenced her with a hand on her arm.

  ‘Who found her first?’ asked Guy.

  ‘A guy I didn’t know,’ said Adam. ‘He was just in front of us – there was a bunch of us more or less running together. He just stopped and we all ran into him.’

  ‘I think that’s enough questions,’ said Fran. ‘They’ll only have to go over it all again with Ian. What do you both want to drink?’

  In fact, it was only about fifteen minutes later that Ian, accompanied by a young officer in plain clothes, came into the bar.

  ‘Could we perhaps go somewhere a little more private?’ he asked.

  ‘My flat?’ suggested Adam, standing up.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Ian. ‘And I suggest your support team comes with us.’ He smiled round at the others. ‘You know you’re dying to hear.’

  ‘Good choice of words,’ said Peter dryly. ‘I won’t come up. I’ll stay downstairs with Hal and keep a nice bottle of red warm for when you’ve finished.’

  Ian followed Adam up the stairs and stood at the top looking round as the others filed in after him.

  ‘It’s a long time since I was up here,’ he said, and Libby saw Fran’s face go from pale to pink. Guy, luckily, didn’t seem to notice, but went to sit beside Sophie.

  ‘Now,’ Ian went on, taking an upright chair and turning it to face them all. He indicated another chair and motioned for the officer to sit. ‘This is DC Tomlinson. He’ll be doing all the note-taking.’ He turned to his colleague. ‘You’re probably wondering about the informality of all this, but these people are my friends, and I was actually here in Steeple Martin with Mrs Sarjeant and Mr Wilde yesterday.’

  Libby and Ben nodded in confirmation.

  ‘You’ll also know that a week ago, we were involved in a missing persons case over in Nethergate.’ Ian raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, guv,’ said Tomlinson. Ian winced.

  ‘So now we come to how her body turned up in Steeple Martin, the very next destination for a run organised by the Nethergate Harriers, and how she was recognised.’

  Libby watched Sophie’s horror struck face.

  ‘You think it’s something to do with the Harriers?’ said Adam.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Ian. ‘What I want to know is who recognised her and how?’

  Sophie looked sick and Adam covered her hand with his own.

  ‘It was Soph,’ he said. ‘The – er – bag was split, and she could see …’ He swallowed and looked down.

  ‘Her clothes, yes,’ said Ian. ‘Pink and grey? Did she always wear those colours?’

  Sophie nodded. ‘To run in, yes.’

  ‘All right, Sophie, thank you,’ said Ian gently. ‘Adam – what happened next?’

  ‘I dialled 999. I couldn’t think what else to do. And the other runners began to pile up behind us. I just stopped them, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You did exactly the right thing,’ said Ian. ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘I had to tell them we’d found a body. I didn’t say we thought it was Lisa.’

  ‘I think you behaved admirably under the circumstances,’ said Ian. ‘We’ll leave you in peace now. You can sign your statements another time.’

  ‘I didn’t say much,’ said Sophie in a small voice.

  Ian smiled. ‘Enough. Do you want to go back and finish your drinks now?’

  ‘I think I’d like to stay here,’ said Sophie.

  ‘We’ll go,’ said Libby. ‘I suppose I’d better go and see how the ladies in Carpenter’s Hall are coping.’

  ‘Will t
hey draw the raffle now?’ asked Fran, as they followed Ian and DC Tomlinson down the stairs.

  ‘I don’t know. There isn’t really an etiquette for this sort of situation,’ said Libby. ‘Are you coming to see the other runners, Ian?’

  ‘The other officers will have taken the names and addresses and I should think told everyone to go home.’ He smiled at her. ‘You could, too.’

  ‘Oh, those poor women!’ said Fran. ‘All that food they prepared.’

  ‘Maybe people stayed to eat it after all,’ said Ben. ‘Come on, let’s go and see. That all right, Ian?’

  ‘Of course. I expect I’ll see you soon.’

  There were, in fact, quite a lot of runners still in Carpenter’s Hall, making inroads into the buffet. Flo, the benefactress of the hall, sat at the side with Amy hovering over her.

  ‘Now whatcher got yerself into?’ said Flo, as soon as Libby came in sight.

  ‘Nothing!’ said Libby in surprise. ‘Nothing to do with me at all.’

  ‘Young Adam, then.’ She turned to Guy. ‘And your gal. That means these two’ll be at it again.’

  Fran and Libby looked at each other.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with us,’ repeated Libby.

  Flo gave a disbelieving snort.

  ‘We just came to see if everything was all right,’ said Fran. ‘What about the raffle?’

  ‘We said we’d draw it later on and let everyone know,’ said Amy. ‘People’s names are on the ticket stubs, so we can do that.’ She looked worried. ‘It’ll take a long time, though.’

  ‘I’ll help,’ said Libby.

  ‘So will I,’ said Fran. ‘Just let Libby know what you want us to do and when.’

  Amy’s face brightened. ‘Oh, would you? That would be such a help, see. I really can’t ask the residents to do it.’

  ‘Too old and loopy, eh?’ said Flo.

  Amy’s face went nearly as red as her cardigan. ‘No, Mrs Carpenter – not at all!’

  ‘Flo, don’t tease,’ said Ben. ‘What have you done with Lenny?’

  ‘Gone up to Het’s. Why aren’t you there?’

  ‘Because we’re here,’ said Libby patiently. ‘We were supporting the runners.’

  ‘Stupid business runnin’ when you don’t have to,’ said Flo.

  Privately agreeing, Libby smiled placatingly and turned to Fran. ‘I think we ought to go and speak to Steve if he’s here, don’t you?’

  ‘Do you think they know it was Lisa by now?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. We’ll go and find out, shall we?’ She turned to Ben and Guy. ‘Do you two want to go back to the pub? We won’t be long.’

  Guy shrugged. ‘We’ll expect you when we see you. Come on, Ben.’

  ‘I don’t think they’re too happy,’ murmured Libby as she watched the two men leave the hall.

  ‘Who can blame them? Yet another murder, dumped almost on their doorstep, with their children involved. And don’t say Adam isn’t Ben’s, you know what I mean.’

  Libby nodded. ‘Look there’s Steve. And that Roly. Shall we go over?’

  Steve was holding court to a small group of runners who Libby thought she’d probably seen the previous week. Roly stood to one side looking as pale as Fran had earlier.

  ‘Oh, it’s you!’ Steve turned to them gratefully. ‘You’ll look into this now, won’t you?’

  Startled, Libby stepped back onto Fran’s foot.

  ‘Ow!’ Fran hopped sideways. ‘I don’t know about looking into it. It isn’t anything to do with us. And it’s murder. The police –’

  ‘Invited you to help last week,’ Steve interrupted. ‘And you’ve already been talking to them today, haven’t you?’

  ‘How –?’ began Libby.

  ‘Only because our children were the ones who found – or recognised – the body,’ said Fran.

  ‘So you already know more than we do,’ said Steve.

  ‘No, not at all,’ said Libby. ‘And we know nothing about Lisa. You all still know more about her than we do.’

  ‘Do they think she would have still been alive if we’d found her last week?’ A middle-aged man Libby didn’t remember spoke from the back of the group.

  ‘No idea,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose they know anything at all yet. They’ll be having to do post-mortems and forensic analysis and all that stuff.’

  ‘Only I think she would have been,’ the man went on, sounding faintly aggressive. ‘If she’s been held somewhere, she could have been found and saved if the police had done their job properly.’

  There was a muttered reaction to this statement, but Fran shook her head.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘She’s been dead since last week.’

  Chapter Twelve

  There was a short silence, then a flood of questions. Libby watched, knowing that Fran had not been told by the police, as the members of the Harriers assumed. Eventually, she intervened.

  ‘Come on, Fran, Ben and Guy will be waiting.’ She smiled round at the agitated runners. ‘I hope they find out who did this.’

  ‘They think it was one of us, don’t they?’ The aggressive man now appeared between Libby and the door.

  She stopped in surprise. ‘Do they? How do you know?’

  For a moment he looked puzzled. ‘Well, it’s obvious.’

  ‘Is it?’ Fran shook her head. ‘I hope it all gets sorted out quickly.’

  ‘All right, gal?’ Flo materialised beside the aggressive man, who she nudged in the side with a sharp elbow. ‘This is my hall, young man, so you behave yourself. See you later.’ She winked at Libby and Fran and went back to her chair, leaving an open-mouthed runner and his amused companions behind.

  ‘Pub,’ said Libby firmly, and they left smartly.

  ‘Do you think he was right? The police think it was one of them?’ she said, as they crossed the high street.

  ‘Probably.’ Fran was focusing on the ground in front of her.

  ‘And – pardon me for asking – but do you know positively that she’d been dead since last week?’

  ‘I’ve told you so many times –’

  ‘I know, I know. Things just appear in your head. Is that what happened?’

  ‘I suppose so. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Libby. ‘But you ought to tell Ian.’

  ‘Why? Their pathologist will find out soon enough.’

  During the next hour at the pub, Fran was preoccupied. Eventually, at her suggestion, they cancelled their booking for that evening and she and Guy decided to go back to Nethergate.

  As Libby and Ben waved them off, the landline began to ring.

  ‘Libby? Ian. Is Fran still with you? She isn’t answering her mobile.’

  ‘No, we cancelled the rest of today’s plans and she and Guy have gone home. They’ve only just left and she was driving, so that’s why she isn’t answering.’

  ‘I’ve been ringing for over half an hour,’ said Ian, faintly accusing.

  ‘Ah. We were in the pub. She may have turned it off.’

  ‘I wonder why?’

  Libby was silent.

  ‘Look, Libby, what has she said?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Libby was wary.

  ‘You know what I mean!’ Now Ian was exasperated. ‘One of the officers on duty in Steeple Martin has had a group of those people from Nethergate asking questions. Apparently they think Lisa Harwood has been dead for a week.’

  Libby made a face at Ben, who was sitting on the sofa looking enquiring.

  ‘She just mentioned it in passing …’

  Ian made an explosive sound. ‘Did she say any more?’

  ‘No. She wouldn’t talk about it. Look, Ian, don’t blame me. It’s got nothing – absolutely nothing – to do with me, or Fran, come to that. She couldn’t help having that whatever it was moment, and she knows she shouldn’t have said anything.She wasn’t going to say anything to you because she said your pathologist would tell you.’

  ‘Yes, but it happens to be on
e of the facts we would have preferred to keep to ourselves for now.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Libby inadequately.

  Ian’s voice softened. ‘I know it isn’t your fault. Just try not to talk to any of those people again if you can help it.’

  ‘Except Adam and Sophie.’

  ‘Well, yes. If you speak to Fran, ask her to call me.’

  Libby relayed the conversation to Ben as she searched the kitchen for something to eat now that their dinner plans had been cancelled.

  ‘Look, we can always go to the pub, just the two of us. There was no need to cancel our booking.’ Ben perched on the kitchen table. ‘So what are you going to do about Fran?’

  Libby turned and looked at him. ‘Do? How do you mean?’

  ‘Are you going to tell her about Ian?’

  ‘Only if she gets in touch. It was fairly clear she wanted to be left alone, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was, rather. So come on – shall I ring the pub?’

  ‘Oh, go on, then. And see if Pete and Harry want to come.’

  ‘They’re still entertaining Max and Owen.’

  ‘Ask them anyway,’ said Libby.

  At seven thirty Peter and Harry joined them in the dining room of the pub, Max and Owen having gone off to visit other friends in Canterbury. Peter picked up the menu and frowned.

  ‘I wonder if the menu will get any better with the new owner.’

  ‘New owner?’ echoed Ben and Libby.

  ‘Didn’t you know?’ Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Sale’s going through now.’

  ‘Why didn’t we know?’ Libby was indignant. ‘Locals should be told these things.’

  ‘Do you ever read the local paper?’ said Peter. ‘No, I thought not. It’s been in there once or twice. We knew about it from the trade press.’

  ‘I don’t think I even know who owned it before,’ said Ben. ‘It’s a free house, isn’t it?’

  ‘Owned by the same family since our mothers’ time,’ said Peter. ‘Run entirely by the staff. The old boy didn’t want to sell it, but his children don’t want it, they’ve got lives of their own, so it’s had to go.’

  ‘I’m surprised they didn’t just shut it down,’ said Ben. ‘That’s what seems to be happening all the time these days.’