Murder In Bloom Part 22

'No one's said I'm not,' said Lewis with a grin. 'If I got in touch with the producer and suggested Steeple Farm I'd know, wouldn't I?'

'I'm not sure,' said Ben. 'I don't know that Peter would be comfortable with it.'

'And there's the privacy aspect,' said Libby.

'Oh, right.' Lewis looked disappointed. 'Well, if you change your minds '

'We'll tell you,' said Libby. 'But you're still happy to oversee the project?'

Lewis brightened. 'Oh, yeah. Give me something to do apart from worrying meself sick over all this murder stuff.'

Harry came out to join them for a drink at the end of the meal, and Libby was amused at his avuncular treatment of both Adam and Lewis, who was plainly fascinated.

'Quite the father figure, isn't he?' murmured Ben. 'Is that what marriage does for you?'

'Makes you into a father?' Libby twinkled at him. 'It did for you!'

Later, over a nightcap in the sitting room of number 17 Ben returned to the subject of Steeple Farm.

'You're still not convinced, are you?' he said.

Libby looked uncomfortable. 'It's such a big step.'

'But you like the house, now?'

'Oh, yes.' Libby smiled. 'Adam's right, it is a dream place.'

'But you still like this house.'

'I love this house,' admitted Libby. 'Although I've still got a rubbishy cane sofa and odd chairs round the kitchen table it's exactly how I want it, and I've even got the conservatory for my painting. Not,' she added guiltily, 'that I'm doing much of that at the moment.'

Ben looked at her with his head on one side. 'Then had we better give Steeple Farm a miss?' he said. 'I'd hate to drag you away from here and have you resent me for it.'

'You said I could keep this place anyway,' said Libby, prevaricating.

Ben nodded. 'So what do you want to do?'

Libby sighed heavily. 'This is so sudden,' she said.

'Hardly sudden,' laughed Ben. 'I've been suggesting we live together properly for ages.'

'I know, but moving. That's what's so sudden.'

'I'll tell you what,' said Ben, 'we'll let Lewis carry on with the project anyway, and make a decision at the end.'

'Who's going to pay?' asked Libby. 'Peter doesn't want to.'

'I will. I'll get it back when Pete eventually sells it, or if we do decide to live in it, all well and good.'

Libby flung her arms round him. 'Oh, Ben,' she said. 'I do love you.' 'Thank goodness for that,' said Ben.

Chapter Twenty.

'WHAT WAS THAT PROGRAMME Gerald Shepherd did in the nineties?' asked Fran.

Libby frowned at the telephone. 'Why do you want to know?'

'I thought I'd see if it was on DVD.'

'But why?'

'I want to know what he looked like in later life.'

'There's sure to be photographs on the Internet,' said Libby. 'No, I want to see him in action,' insisted Fran. 'So, what was it?' 'It comes up if you Google him,' said Libby. 'It was a political thriller.' 'Got it,' said Fran. 'Collateral Damage. That's what it was. Thanks, Lib. I'll get on to it.'

Still frowning, Libby switched off the phone. Fran was obviously getting interested in the Creekmarsh murder, which wasn't, possibly, A Good Thing. Guy would be expecting her to concentrate on their rapidly approaching wedding, his att.i.tude to the women's shared investigations being much the same as Ben's.

But Fran's interest would only be piqued if she thought there was something to be uncovered. If her mind had told her something was wrong. Otherwise, she would back away from any involvement, unsure of her own gift, if that's what it was. To Fran it often appeared more of a curse. Libby sighed and went to fetch a duster. Last night, after Ben had made his suggestion about staying put for the time being, she'd taken a critical look round this cottage she loved so much and noticed the dust and hidden cobwebs. Time for a bit of a clean-up.

As she worked, her mind disa.s.sociated from her physical actions, she thought through what she knew of the Creekmarsh murder. Or murders, probably. First, Adam had dug up part of a skeleton. Next, the police had discovered it to be approximately three years old and to match Gerald Shepherd's DNA, although how they obtained that Libby didn't know.

Next, Lewis had confessed that Tony West had sold him Creekmarsh with power of attorney for Gerald Shepherd. This had to have been obtained over three years ago, since that was the time Shepherd and his daughter-in-law had gone missing. Libby, from what Lewis had said, was sure that Lewis had been almost coerced into buying the place, presumably to offload it. It looked to be a long-term plan if Tony West's manipulation of Lewis's career was any guide, although his presence on Housey Housey may well have been simply as a reward for s.e.xual favours, the offloading of Creekmarsh Place being an inspiration that came later, when Lewis's money came rolling in.

Meanwhile, Tony West himself was killed in his bedroom in Hampstead. Although Lewis had been questioned, it appeared the police didn't think he was connected, even though his fingerprints were found. Old, though, Libby thought, probably overlaid by others. So someone had wanted to cover up West's involvement with Shepherd, although they must have known it would come out when Lewis was questioned.

Then Cindy Dale had turned up or Cindy Shepherd, as Libby supposed she was with her story of Kenneth being killed by his father. It was perfectly feasible, given the DNA clue, but where was Gerald now? Fran was certain he was alive. Kenneth she wasn't so sure about, and if Fran wasn't sure you could almost be certain she was wrong.

This brought Libby up short. Fran had said she couldn't see Libby at Steeple Farm. At least, that was what it seemed like. But just because she couldn't see it didn't mean it wouldn't happen, thought Libby, taking a deep breath and pushing the thought away. If she could actually see Libby in three years' time still living at number 17, that would be different.

Still, unless the original DNA sample was faulty, it looked as though this skeleton had to be Kenneth on two counts. One, Fran was certain Gerald was alive and two, Kenneth, not Gerald, fell into the age group predicted by the DNA. Libby thought about the DNA. If it was wrong, then whose could it possibly have been? And anyway, the police didn't get that sort of thing wrong, did they? They must have been sure they had bona fide samples of Gerald Shepherd's DNA. They wouldn't have made a mistake.

So now the police must be looking for Gerald Shepherd. No death certificate had been found, and Libby a.s.sumed the police would have checked with whatever was Somerset House these days. Central Records Office? And there was the Office of the Public Guardian, of course, where the power of attorney would be lodged. The police would have checked all of those.

But Cindy a name which didn't suit her thought Libby, had said he was suffering from the onset of Alzheimer's Disease. Surely he would have needed to be taken care of somewhere. Wouldn't there be records? And why didn't Cindy know? There were too many questions about Cindy. Where had she been, why had she come forward now and why hadn't she reported her father-in-law as a murderer in the first place.

Because, thought Libby, sitting down at the table still clasping a damp cloth, she must have been scared of Gerald. He'd killed Kenneth; if she reappeared she would still be a threat and he might have gone after her. Libby shook her head. No, that didn't work, because if Gerald had Alzheimer's he would have got progressively worse, so no threat at all. He probably wouldn't even remember her. But it could still be the reason she didn't come back to England until the discovery of Kenneth's body made her realise she could still inherit the estate. She didn't know Creekmarsh had been sold, but she could still be in line to inherit the proceeds of the sale.

Anyway, thought Libby, absently rubbing the damp cloth over the window frame, it still doesn't explain why she ran away in the first place. Except of course. She stopped rubbing the window frame and smacked the table. If Tony was covering up for Gerald, he'd want her out of the way in case she told the police the truth.

The phone rang again.

''Ere, Libby, it's all go round here.' It was Lewis.

'What's happened now?'

'Cindy's discovered Tony's dead. Gawd, haven't heard so much weepin' and wailin' in years. Katie's going round all tight-lipped 'cos I can hardly turn the kid out now, can I?'

'Didn't she know he was dead? Didn't you tell her that first day? Hadn't she tried to get in touch with him before she came back?'

'No, she says he always said not to come back unless he said so, so she was afraid he'd stop her. And I thought I had told her, but I can't have done.'

'Bit of an evil genius our Tony, wasn't he?' said Libby. 'Is that why she stayed away, do you think? Because she was scared of Tony?' Libby hadn't thought of that one until now.

'Could be,' said Lewis slowly. 'He could be a bit scary.'

In fact, thought Libby, how convinced was everybody that Cindy was telling the truth about Kenneth's murderer? Could it have been Tony himself who killed him? If the body was Kenneth, of course. She must find out about that DNA.

'So what did you want, Lewis? Or was it just a sympathetic ear?'

He laughed. 'That an' all,' he said. 'No, I wanted to say thanks for last night. I was supposed to be taking you, not the other way round.'

'Pleasure,' said Libby. 'We enjoyed your company. Had Cindy waited up for you?'

'No, but Katie had. Apparently they had a row. I think Katie must've told Cindy where to get off ordering her about.'

'Quite right, too,' said Libby. 'Even if Cindy had still been the heir apparent, Katie isn't her servant.'

'Even I don't treat Katie like she does,' said Lewis. 'Anyway, Cindy'd gone off to bed in a huff, and this morning the police are back asking about Tony. And off she goes. Hysterics.'

'I still don't know why didn't she know before. When the police first questioned her it would have come up, surely?'

'I said, I thought she did know. When she was talking about him, it didn't occur to me she wouldn't have known. She'd told the police about him, an' all, and I suppose they thought she knew, too. They'd been checking when she come over here. Flights and that.'

'And when did she come?'

'Sunday, like she said. I reckon they'll have her for false pa.s.sport and that.'

'I expect so, unless they think it's mitigating circ.u.mstances. No,' said Libby, catching herself up, 'of course they won't. She's going to be done as an accessory to murder and obstructing the police, isn't she?'

'S'pose so. Can't think why she come back. She must've known she'd be in trouble.'

'Perhaps Creekmarsh was enough of an incentive.'

'Yeah, but if old German Shepherd is still alive it wouldn't be hers anyway. Or the money. Not until he was dead.'

'Have they found a will?'

'They wouldn't tell me, would they? And I reckon if he made one, Tony would have it.'

'What about the solicitor who drew up the power of attorney? He probably drew up a will as well.'

'Don't ask me! How do I know? I'm sick of the whole thing now. I just want shot of the police, shot of Cindy and get on with me own life.'

'OK, OK,' said Libby, 'you don't want me ferreting about any more.'

'Oh, I didn't mean that, Libby,' he said, sounding awkward. 'You been great, but what you said at the beginning was right. The police always get there in the end, don't they? They'll find German Shepherd and that'll be that. Then they'll leave me alone.'

'Meanwhile, you must get rid of Cindy,' said Libby. 'Tell her she's got to go.'

'I can't!' Lewis wailed. 'I don't know how.'

'Then ask Katie to do it, she'd love to.'

'No, Cindy would just come straight to me. You could do it.'

Libby laughed. 'The same thing would apply. She wouldn't believe me and go straight to you.'

'You could come and back me up while I do it. If Katie does, Cindy'll just say she's been influencing me or something. She won't say that about you.'

'Oh, all right, I'll come. When do you want me?'

'Soon as you like,' said Lewis, sounding more like himself. 'Although I suppose we'll have to let her find herself somewhere to stay.'

'I'll help with that,' said Libby. 'Look, I'm going to have something to eat, then I'll be over.'

After lunch, Libby borrowed the Land Rover again and set off for Creekmarsh. The weather had turned and drizzly rain shrouded the hedgerows in a faint mist. The wipers screeched across the windscreen and Libby turned them off in disgust. She wasn't looking forward to a confrontation with Cindy Dale, and wondered what the outcome would be. Would she go? She presumably wouldn't be allowed to go back to Spain. She wouldn't have either her false pa.s.sport or her real one, which hadn't yet been found, as far as Libby knew, although the police may have found all sorts of things by now. She sighed and wished Ian Connell had been on the investigating team.

As she turned into the Creekmarsh lane, she was surprised to find herself at the end of a queue of traffic. Was it a sailing day? she wondered. She gave up trying to edge along towards the gates and drew in to the lay-by near the church. It would be quicker to walk.

When she reached the drive she realised why the cars were there. Reporters. Not too many, as yet, but then, Lewis had said nothing about them on the phone, so this was presumably a recent leak, or even press conference. The rest of the horde would be here soon, she thought. The rusty gates were closed, and beyond them stood Adam, looking scared but determined, with a mobile to his ear. He looked relieved to see Libby, who pushed her way to the front of the crowd and slipped through the small gap he opened for her, practically being flattened by the press behind her.

'I've asked Lewis to call the police. Apparently they held a press conference because something had leaked about Shepherd owning this place. That had been kept quiet until now.'

Libby looked back at the crowd of reporters and photographers. They knew about the body being dug up and Shepherd's DNA. Why had the police kept quiet about the location, and, if they had, why had they now revealed it?

Chapter Twenty-one.

THE ANSWER WAS SOON revealed. As Libby and Adam walked towards the house, a commotion behind them caused them to stop and look back. In quick succession came two police cars, a long black saloon and the familiar van belonging to Kent and Coast Television. Adam went reluctantly back down the drive and unlocked the gates. The police were more successful at holding back the crowds than he had been, and while the black saloon and one of the police cars drove up to the house, the other stayed at the gates. 'To repel boarders,' said Libby as she and Adam, unchallenged, followed the police into the house.

'Who was that in the unmarked police car?' asked Libby, as they hesitated in the hall.

'I couldn't see,' said Adam. 'Big Bertha, I suppose.'