Murder in the Blood (15 page)

‘No, the police did that,' said Fran. ‘So Sally came and lived here?”

‘She furnished it and came here once or twice, but after the case she decided to let it – she was already living in Turkey. She didn't want …'

‘No, of course not,' said Fran. ‘So why did you come down here? It said in the paper that you were from Cherry Ashton.'

‘I was, at one time, but I came down to see if there was anything here that would help the investigation, and that's when I thought of you. You see, it seems too much of a coincidence.'

‘Do you think it could be a revenge killing?' asked Libby. ‘One of the victims' families, perhaps?'

‘Well, yes. You knew one of the victims, didn't you?'

‘No.' Fran shook her head. ‘Luckily, we didn't. But if someone had wanted revenge after all this time – it seems unlikely, doesn't it?'

‘Suppose someone went out there on holiday and recognised her, though?' suggested Libby.

‘But nobody knew of her connection with the Colonel at the time of the case,' said Fran. She turned to Carol. ‘She wasn't living here then, was she?'

‘No, this house was let. I think he gave it to her to put her under obligation.'

‘Yes, he was definitely manipulative, wasn't he?' said Libby. ‘So you've found no clues here to what might have happened?'

‘She hasn't lived here since … well, since. There's nothing of hers here. She either got rid of things or took them to Turkey.'

‘So this is a dead end,' said Libby. ‘I really don't think Sally's death is anything to do with – with anything that happened here in Cherry Ashton. It's far more likely, as the police think, that it's linked to her friend Alec Wilson.'

‘So it's to do with something over there? But what about this person who was murdered in England?'

‘That's the problem,' said Fran. ‘If the murderer of Sally and Alec needed to keep Justin silent, he or she is now in England.'

Carol looked frightened.

‘Maybe not,' said Libby. ‘He or she could have got straight back on a plane and gone back again. I expect the police will be checking all the flights, won't they?'

‘So it's much more likely that the reason is out there?' Carol was grasping at straws.

‘Much more likely,' Fran reassured her.

‘But … you asked me if he – Justin – had been in touch with me.' Carol looked from Fran to Libby and back again.

‘We wondered who he came to see in England. Why he was here. You see,' said Fran, ‘he called a friend of ours the other day, and the police found that call on Justin's phone, so they questioned Harry – our friend – because they thought Justin was coming to see him.'

‘And he might have murdered Justin?' said Carol. ‘And did he?'

Libby laughed. ‘No, and luckily he has a cast iron alibi. But they are looking for anyone Justin talked to.'

‘Well, it couldn't have been me. He wouldn't have had my mobile number, and no one has the landline number of this house, only Sally.'

‘And her phone's missing,' said Fran.

‘Had you heard from Sally recently? Did she say anything particular had happened?' asked Libby.

Carol shook her head. ‘I wrote to her a few months ago, but she never replied. She tended to keep in touch through social media. I haven't even got a letter –' Carol broke off, her voice suspended.

‘The police will return her effects to you,' said Fran. ‘Now, is there anything we can do for you?'

Carol wiped her eyes and shook her head again. ‘No, I'll be fine. My husband didn't want me to come on my own. I think I'll go back home tonight.'

‘That's sensible,' said Libby. ‘And you've got my number. Don't hesitate to call if we can help with anything.'

‘Actually –' Carol stood up. ‘I wonder if you'd do me a huge favour? I know you didn't know Sally, but would you take the key to this house? If the police want to see over it or anything, it would be easier to get the key from you.'

‘Of course,' said Libby. ‘We don't mind, do we Fran?'

Chapter Seventeen

‘I don't think I fancy eating at the Ashton Arms now,' said Libby, as they walked back to their cars.

‘Nor do I. Shall we go home, or do you want to go somewhere else?' said Fran.

‘George,' they said together.

Fran led the way to The Red Lion in Heronsbourne, where they parked in Pedlar's Row.

The bar was almost empty, and George was, as he often was, found at the bar reading a newspaper.

‘Ladies!' he said as they came in. ‘Pleasure to see you.'

Libby hoisted herself on to a bar stool. ‘Nice to see you, too, George. How's the posh coffee machine?'

‘Doing well, thanks, Libby. Coffee?'

‘Yes, please.'

‘I'll have one, too,' said Fran, ‘and have you got anything on for lunch?'

‘My missus's meat pies. How does that sound?'

‘Brilliant. I'll have one of those, thank you.'

‘So – you off investigating again?' asked George as he served coffee.

‘Now, why would you think that?' said Fran with a smile.

‘Because you usually are. Especially if you come over here.'

‘Fair enough,' said Libby. ‘And yes – in a way.'

‘Not really,' said Fran. ‘There were two murders while we were on holiday, and someone connected with one of them lives near here. We've just paid a courtesy visit.'

‘Murders on holiday, eh?' George shook his head. ‘Can't trust you anywhere, can we? Nobody'd believe it if you put it on telly.'

‘Not sure I believe it myself,' said Libby.

‘So where does this person live? Here in Heronsbourne?'

‘No, actually, she used to live in Cherry Ashton. Doesn't any more, though.' Libby sipped coffee and licked froth off her upper lip.

‘So why was you over there, then?'

‘Her mother came down to collect things.' Fran also sipped coffee, although more delicately.

‘Ah.' George surveyed them both shrewdly. ‘Wouldn't be nothing to do that White Lodge business?'

‘No,' said Fran firmly. ‘This was a young woman who used to live there and moved to Turkey.'

‘Ah,' said George again, looking disappointed. ‘What happened to the White Lodge then? And that there barn?'

‘It was put up for sale,' said Libby, ‘but as far as we know, it hasn't sold. The only people interested were a development company, and the Lodge and the barn are both listed, so you can't pull them down.'

‘Best thing to happen to them, in my view,' said George. ‘Nothing but unhappiness in them buildings.'

‘Well, not our business,' said Fran. ‘We just came in for lunch.'

‘Point taken,' said George cheerfully. ‘I'll go and see how them pies are coming on.'

‘Did we put him off enough?' Libby asked, when they were settled at a table.

‘I think so,' said Fran. ‘Not that it really matters, but I suppose the police would want as little gossip as possible.'

‘I wonder who it was Justin was coming to see? Or even if he was coming to see someone. We don't even know that.'

‘Well, someone knew he was in the country, unless it really
was
some kind of mugging. I think both Ian and Smith are going to keep an eye on us because we could lead them to possible suspects.'

‘But
what
possible suspects? We only knew the people who were staying in the hotel, and they didn't know Alec or Sally.'

‘Yes, they did. It was Greta who told us about Sally.'

‘They didn't know Alec, though.'

‘They all said they didn't. Suppose they did?'

‘Betty and Walter didn't, I'm sure of it,' said Libby. ‘And Walter didn't move enough to murder anyone.'

‘We haven't heard back from any of them, have we?' said Fran. ‘do you think the police will have been in touch with them?'

‘I expect so.'

‘Even though Alec had no connection with Jimmy's hotel?'

‘But it was a visitor to the hotel who first identified his body, and we were on the boat that found him. That's enough of a connection in the minds of the police.' Libby looked up as George brought over their steaming pies.

‘Missus says hello.' he said, placing their plates carefully in front of them. ‘Tuck in.'

‘Well,' said Fran, when he'd gone, ‘we'd better let Ian know about Carol, whatever happens. Now I'm going to concentrate on this pie. God bless my waistline.'

To Libby's surprise, when she arrived home there were three emails in her inbox, from Martha, Greta, and Neal, all of them concerning Justin Newcombe's murder. Greta's and Neal's both contained telephone numbers, with requests to send hers if she would prefer it. Martha's was simply a request for information, as she had only been informed because her number was in Justin's phone.

Libby called Greta and sent Neal an email with her own number.

‘How did you hear about it?' asked Libby when Greta answered.

‘Martha called me because the police had told her. She said she was going to contact you.'

‘She has. Everything seems to be a terrible muddle. Did she tell you about the Turkish policeman who's now investigating?'

‘Yes, but I'm not sure what he's doing. I thought that Johnny Smith's people were investigating?'

‘They are – but they're not on home soil. And the Turkish policeman may well be a bit suspicious.' Libby didn't want to go into the theories of Alec's witness protection status, nor tell Greta anything about Sally Weston's mother.

‘Will you let me know if you hear anything else?' asked Greta. ‘It's very worrying, all this.'

‘Yes, of course,' said Libby, mentally crossing her fingers. She would if she could, of course.

She had barely ended the conversation with Greta when the phone began ringing.

‘Libby? Is that you? It's Neal here – Neal Parnham.'

‘Hello, Neal. How are you?'

‘I'm fine, thank you, but what's all this about Justin? Do you know anything?'

‘Only that he was found on Sunday in a London hotel. How did you find out?'

‘Oh, the police. He had my number in his phone. They apparently wondered if he'd arranged to meet me.'

‘Yes, they thought the same about Harry,' Libby felt safe in replying.

‘
Harry
?'

‘Oh, yes. They turned up to question him on Monday morning. Quite nasty with it, too.'

‘Fuck!' Libby was quite surprised as swearing didn't seem to fit Neal's rather quiet personality.

‘Did they come and see you?' she asked.

‘No, they just phoned. I got the impression they were going through all the British numbers in his phone.'

‘Whatever did they do before mobile phones,' said Libby.

‘So why did they go and see Harry?'

‘Justin called him on Friday night to tell him about the Turkish policeman.'

‘What Turkish policeman?'

‘I told you in the group email I sent. I sent it to you, Greta and Tom, and Betty, and Harry emailed Justin.'

‘Oh, I didn't realise it was – er – serious. And you said Commander Smith had turned up, too? Here?'

‘Yes, on my doorstep, but it seems as if Smith's team are working on one theory and the Turkish policeman on another. They don't appear to like each other very much. But none of them like the crowd at the Istanbul Palace.'

‘Oh, them. I didn't go there more than once.'

‘What did you think of them?'

Neal was silent for a moment. ‘I didn't think much of them at all,' he said eventually. ‘They seemed very cliquey.'

‘Did you go with Alec?'

‘Yes. He was very good about taking me to places …' His voice trailed off.

‘And he introduced you to people like Justin and Sally.'

‘And Martha. He even introduced me to the owner of that hotel and his awful wife.'

‘Geoff and Christine Croker.'

‘Is that who they are? I can't remember. I thought they seemed as if they should be on the Costa del Sol, not Erzugan.'

‘Fran and I thought that, too. We thought they were all lotus-eaters in that place.'

‘They were what?'

‘Lotus-eaters. From Homer's
Odyssey
. The island where the sailors were given lotus to eat and forgot all about going home and stopped caring about their homes and families.'

‘Ah.'

Libby decided Neal now thought she'd been showing off. ‘It's quite a common expression,' she explained. ‘Means people who run away from obligations and hide.'

‘Like criminals in Spain.'

‘Well, that's what you meant about the Costa del Sol, isn't it?'

‘Exactly. So are the police looking into those people?'

‘I believe so,' said Libby cautiously.

There was a short silence.

‘Who's looking into the boat?' Neal said suddenly. ‘The Turkish police or the English?'

‘His boat? I don't know – the Turkish, I think. It was in its normal place the day he was found, wasn't it?'

‘I think so. I can't remember. Don't forget I didn't know anything about it until the Jandarma came to talk to you in the evening.'

‘Of course. I'd forgotten about that. Someone said it was still beached.'

‘But if someone had used the boat the night before they would have been careful to beach it again, wouldn't they?'

‘But wouldn't it have been damp? Or would it have dried out by the time they had a look at it?'

‘I don't know,' said Neal. ‘It's very hot out there, isn't it? It could have dried. Someone must be looking into it.'

‘I expect they are. Infuriating, isn't it, that we can't just pop over and see what they're doing.'