Murder in the Blood (12 page)

‘As far as we can find out, none of your party nor the other British visitors has so much as a speeding ticket. Young Justin was a different matter, but we can't see any link to Wilson.'

‘What had he done?' asked Libby. ‘We thought he'd probably been done for fraud.'

It was Smith's turn to look shocked. ‘What made you think that?'

‘We were told he'd been an accountant, I think,' said Libby. ‘It was only a guess.'

‘You're obviously far too good at guessing,' said Smith. He stood up. ‘If I have any more questions, can I call you? I know I'll get DCI Connell's statement, but there might be things that arise from that.'

‘I don't want to prejudice my own case,' said Libby as she saw him to the door, ‘but would either of us have told you if we'd known Wilson in a former life?'

He turned and grinned at her. ‘No, you wouldn't. But I don't think you did.'

Fran and Libby watched him turn the car and drive down the lane.

‘Well, we got away with it,' said Fran. ‘I was terrified we'd drop Ian in the soup.'

‘And we didn't tell anything but the truth.' Libby sighed. ‘And it's all getting even more interesting.'

‘Frustrating,' said Fran. ‘We can't do a thing.'

Libby laughed. ‘Come on, it's me that usually says that!'

Fran smiled. ‘You're right there. Anyway, we can do what we decided earlier, can't we?'

‘We could look and see if anyone's answered our post on Jimmy's page,' said Libby, ‘and then you'd better go home or Guy will start fidgeting.'

Fran raised her eyebrows. ‘Why would he do that?'

‘He'll think we're getting involved again.'

‘We are.' Fran grinned and gave Libby a gentle shove. ‘Go on, open the laptop.'

There were no replies on Jimmy's page, so Libby called Harry and asked him to email Justin.

‘Why?' The sound of chopping filtered down the line.

‘What are you doing?'

‘Prepping for lunch, what do you think? Now, why do you want me to email Justin? Is it something to do with you seeing Ian this morning?'

‘Yes. There's a team still investigating out there and we want to know what's happening, especially as we've just had a surprise visit from Commander Smith.'

‘What?' The sudden clatter suggested Harry had dropped a knife.

‘Yes. I'll tell you all about it when you aren't busy.' Libby grinned at Fran.

‘Tell me now. Is Fran still there? Come over and I'll give you soup and stuff.'

Libby rang Ben to include him in the invitation; as she told Fran, Harry would certainly have asked Peter. When they arrived at The Pink Geranium, sure enough Ben and Peter were already at the big table in the right-hand window. Harry joined them bearing a cafetière and a bottle of red wine, and Libby launched into her story.

‘So the upshot,' said Harry when she'd finished, ‘is that Smith confirmed Alec Wilson was definitely a false name and was either a criminal or a crucial witness in a criminal case, and Smith is worried that someone who knew him before his name change has got at him.'

‘It seems like it. Smith's left his team in Turkey, presumably while he looks into the English end. So we want to know what's going on over there.'

Ben frowned at her. ‘But there's nothing you can do. Don't get involved.'

‘It seems that we're already involved,' said Fran. ‘Smith has looked into all our backgrounds.'

‘What?' Peter looked affronted. ‘A police check?'

‘Fraid so,' said Libby. ‘In case there was anything in our pasts that might have linked us to Wilson or this case, whatever it was.'

‘But we don't even know what it was,' said Peter.

‘So if we'd shown any sort of knowledge he would have jumped on it,' said Libby.

‘There's the other alternative,' said Ben, thoughtfully stirring coffee. ‘He could have been a “sleeper”.' He turned to Harry. ‘You were the one who suggested it.'

‘I did?'

‘You said he could be a spy.'

‘But who on earth would plant someone somewhere like our village?' said Libby.

‘Unless something was known about it and they needed a watch on it,' said Peter.

‘Smuggling? The coastguard would deal with that, surely?' said Fran.

‘Unless it was people or things from Britain … ' Harry tailed off. ‘I know! People smuggling. Not
in
to Turkey, but
out
!'

‘It could be,' said Fran, ‘but why would he have been planted there ten years ago, or more?'

‘Oh, I don't know,' said Harry with a gusty sigh. ‘None of it makes any sense. Anyway, I'll send Justin an email and see if they know anything out there.'

‘And I'll email Martha when I get home,' said Fran. ‘Where's this soup, then?'

Ben walked back to Allhallow's Lane with Libby after lunch.

‘I wonder what the story really is,' he said, as they passed the vicarage on the corner.

‘We're never going to know,' said Libby. ‘If it's that hush-hush, it'll be swept so far under the carpet even the spiders won't find it.'

‘Then why did Smith make such a business of involving you two while we were out there?'

‘Partly what Fran said, camouflage, and partly to find out if we knew anything. If we had, I wonder what would have happened?'

‘I expect you would have quietly disappeared,' said Ben with a grin.

‘And how would he have explained that?' Libby shook her head. ‘I expect that's what they're doing out there now, making sure there are no loose ends flapping around.'

‘Not looking for the murderer?'

‘I got the impression that wasn't top of the priorities. And poor Sally Weston is simply collateral damage.'

Back at number seventeen, Ben went into the garden to carry on painting his new shed, and Libby went into the conservatory to do a little desultory painting. She produced small pictures of the local area, particularly Nethergate, for Guy to sell in his gallery and shop. A noted artist, Guy's original paintings commanded larger sums, but were reproduced on postcards and greetings cards, which he also stocked in the shop. During the summer season, Libby's pictures sold well, and Guy was always urging her to do more, but even though they were only ‘pretty peeps', she struggled to manage more than one a month.

Now, after adding a stroke or two to the current masterpiece, she decided to check and see if anyone had commented on Jimmy's Facebook page.

We have a new policeman here
, Jimmy had posted,
after your Englishman left
.

‘I thought Smith said he'd left a team out there,' said Libby, showing it to Ben. ‘Not just one person.'

‘Jimmy's English isn't that good. He might not mean just one.'

But when Harry received a reply that evening from Justin, Libby got an explanation.

‘He says it's a Turkish policeman. And the English team seem to be trying to put him off.'

Chapter Fourteen

‘How do you mean?'

‘I can't talk now,' said Harry against a background noise of clattering pots and pans, ‘I'm right in the middle of service. Are you rehearsing tonight?'

‘Yes – in about half an hour.'

‘Come in when you've finished. If I'm not free by then I'll meet you in the pub.'

Libby ended the call. ‘Harry's heard from Justin. He says he'll tell us about it after rehearsal.'

Ben sighed. ‘For goodness sake, don't try and start conducting an investigation from here.'

‘Of course not – I couldn't, could I?' Libby collected a folder of music and tried to look innocent.

The walk to the theatre took them past The Pink Geranium and Libby peered in to try and see Harry, but he was obviously busy in the kitchen. Libby's son Adam, who helped out occasionally, was serving, wearing his long Victorian apron. He waved.

The doors to the theatre were already open, and they found Peter up in the Sound and Lighting box.

‘Susannah's here, too,' he called down.

‘Did Harry tell you what Justin said?' Libby called back.

Peter appeared at the top of the spiral staircase leading down to the foyer. ‘No. What's happened?'

Libby repeated what Harry had told her.

‘He must have called him,' said Peter, sitting down on the top step. ‘Hal put his phone number in the email, but I wouldn't have expected him to ring back. I suppose we'll have to wait until later.'

Libby pushed open the doors to the auditorium and went to say hello to Susannah. Ben had disappeared backstage to check on the workshop.

Gradually members of The End Of The Pier Show cast drifted in and were given their music. Susannah put them through their paces in some of the chorus numbers, some old favourites, some new to the cast, and Libby worked out who could be in the various comedy set pieces. It was familiar and soothing, and when at just after half past nine she felt some of her cast getting restless, she packed them off home – or to the pub, where most of them would go first.

Ben went round checking all doors were locked and Peter shut down all the lights, then they walked down the Manor drive towards the high street, turned left and stopped in front of the restaurant. Harry was sitting on the sofa in the left-hand window and waved.

When they were settled and Adam had supplied them with their drinks of choice, Harry began.

‘I'm glad we'd finished service,' he said, ‘I didn't want to tell you in the pub with your theatre crowd all there. I emailed Justin this afternoon, and I put my phone number on there. I don't really know why I did that – I didn't really expect him to ring.'

‘Yes, Peter told us that,' said Libby.

‘So then he rang, just before I called you.' Harry frowned at his coffee mug. ‘He sounded quite upset. Apparently, these British cops have been quite polite, but have been concentrating on Wilson's and Sally Thing's houses, when suddenly this plain clothes bloke from Antalya turns up. And he's been going round asking all the same questions and more. And the British cops don't like him, but they can't stop him.'

‘Goodness!' said Libby. ‘So why is Justin upset?'

‘He seems to be certain the murderer is in the village. And he's been asking about all the boats, and who is good enough to take a boat out at night. The crowd at that hotel you went to –'

‘The Istanbul Palace,' supplied Libby.

‘Yeah, that one, well they're getting very twitchy, Justin said. Martha's the only one who seems calm about it all.'

‘She was only worried about the mother aspect,' said Peter. ‘And what do we think about that now?'

‘If he's in the witness protection scheme or a sleeper it can't be true,' said Ben. ‘No one could have found him.'

‘So it was a ploy,' said Libby. ‘Do you suppose he wasn't allowed to come back to the UK, and he snuck in secretly?'

‘He'd have had to have a passport – which we know he had,' said Ben, ‘so I don't suppose his travel was restricted.'

‘Anyway,' said Harry, ‘he's passed on Neal Parnham's email. He's been asking Justin questions, too.'

‘I'll do a group email to him, Greta and Tom, and Betty,' said Libby. ‘They'll want to know.'

‘Do we tell them about Ian questioning you?' asked Harry.

‘Perhaps not, but I'll tell them Smith came sniffing round.'

‘He wants to cover up the truth, the Turkish policeman wants to uncover it,' said Ben. ‘It could turn into an international incident.'

‘Smith took Sally Weston's computer, and he said he was going to get Wilson's from the Jandarma,' said Libby. ‘Will the Turkish policeman make him give them back?'

‘No idea.' Ben shook his head. ‘I wonder if there will have to be diplomatic intervention?'

‘It can't be that important,' said Peter. ‘Wouldn't there have been something in the press?'

‘Smith won't want his cover blown,' said Harry. ‘Right old mess, isn't it?'

Ben persuaded Libby not to call Fran then and there, but to wait to do that and send the email in the morning.

‘It's Saturday, and I'm going to take Mum into Canterbury,' he said as they walked home. ‘Do you want to come?'

‘No, I'll ring Fran and send the email. Will you have lunch in Canterbury?'

‘I expect so. Are you trying to keep me out of the way?'

‘No! I just want to know if I ought to prepare something. Tell you what, I'll cook for you both tomorrow night. Hetty will be expecting us to lunch on Sunday, won't she?'

Sunday lunch at the Manor was an unvarying tradition, attended by as many people as Hetty could round up.

‘I'll ask her,' said Ben. ‘Now, do you want a nightcap?'

After Libby had seen Ben and Hetty off in the morning, she called Fran to read her the text of the email before she sent it, and to tell her Harry's news.

‘I expect the Turkish people are cross that the British have taken over,' said Fran. ‘We wouldn't like it if one of theirs came over to investigate here, would we?'

‘I suppose not. I don't see how they're going to ever solve it now. They'll be working against one another.'

‘It's not solving it Smith's trying to do,' said Fran.

‘That's what Ben said. He's trying to cover it up, the Turks want to uncover it.'

‘Well, no doubt we'll find out. Ian might even tell us,' said Fran. ‘Now, I'm supposed to be helping in the shop, so I'd better get on with it.'

Libby sent the email to all her former fellow guests at Jimmy's, then went and peered once more at the painting in the conservatory. All she had to do now was wait.

It wasn't until Sunday morning that a reply was received from any of the residents of Erzugan or its visitors. Ben had made tea and brought it up to bed and gave Libby his smartphone to check her emails.