Murder in the Blood (20 page)

‘And we don't know how far that is,' said Ben.

‘No,' said Ian, standing up. ‘And while I appreciate that you're all still on edge about this, possibly even more so, now, I still say don't go barging in.' He turned to Libby. ‘Especially you, Lib.'

‘I wouldn't know where to barge in
to
,' said Libby. ‘There's not a hint of anything to go on, is there?'

When Ian left, and Patti and Anne had gone back to Anne's little house in New Barton Lane, they all sat in silence round the table.

‘So I'm about to be even more thoroughly investigated,' said Harry eventually. ‘Me and Guy.'

‘Ian didn't say Guy definitely,' said Libby.

‘But he will be,' said Fran. ‘As I said earlier, it couldn't look more obvious.'

‘OK,' said Ben, leaning forward, elbows on the table, ‘so what do we know? Ian said illegal immigration. You've dealt with that before, Lib and Fran. What do you know about it?'

‘It wasn't this sort of illegal immigration,' said Libby. ‘This looks like small groups of people being brought in on small boats, doesn't it?'

‘From Turkey, do you think?' said Peter.

‘From Erzugan, I would think,' said Fran. ‘It's a tiny, unspoiled bay, miles away from most other civilisation, with the mountains between it and all the main roads. That would make sense of Alec being there.'

‘But doing what?' said Harry. ‘He was living there as a quiet Englishman, he hadn't any back-up. How would he have stopped anything like that going on?'

They all thought about it for a moment.

‘We'd have to start this end,' said Fran. ‘Find out what anyone knows about small boats being landed along the coast. Who would we ask?'

‘George and Bert,' said Libby. ‘They go to all the little bays along the coast in the
Dolphin
and the
Sparkler
, don't they? And they've been at it for years. I bet they'd know.'

‘What about the people in Felling?' asked Fran. ‘They thought illegals were landing there, didn't they?'

‘But it was disproved,' said Libby. ‘The river's too narrow – almost unnavigable.'

‘But there was a surveillance operation there,' said Fran. ‘As we know only too well.'

‘So they'd have caught anyone who came that way,' said Ben. ‘No, I think your idea of George and Bert is a good one.' He looked round the table. ‘Are we all in on this?'

‘I can't believe you're saying this,' said Peter, amused. ‘You're usually counselling caution.'

‘Let's face it,' said Ben, ‘over the years I've got inured to these two,' he indicated Libby and Fran, ‘getting into trouble, and several times I've even got a bit involved myself. So have we all, if we're honest. Particularly if it affects one of our own. And this time it's two of us.'

‘I'll come down to Nethergate tomorrow,' said Libby. ‘Will you tell Guy what's going on?'

‘I'm hardly likely to keep it to myself, am I?' said Fran, a little tetchily. ‘I'll see you in the morning, then. George and Bert usually have their lunch hour around one, so we should catch up with them then.'

They broke up, then, Fran to drive back to Nethergate, Peter and Harry to their little cottage along the high street and Ben and Libby to walk back to Allhallow's Lane.

‘Be careful of Fran,' said Ben, as they passed under the overhanging lilac tree on the corner.

‘Careful?' repeated Libby.

‘She's worried about Guy.'

‘Of course she is. If it was you, I'd be worried. I'm worried about Guy, too.'

‘There's more to it than that,' said Ben. ‘She doesn't know much about his life before they met.'

Libby gasped. ‘You can't believe that she thinks he's guilty!'

‘No, in her heart of hearts she doesn't, but she herself spelt out the reasons that the authorities might. I think it's a very sensitive subject,' said Ben, ‘so tread carefully.'

‘I always tread carefully,' said Libby, huffily and erroneously.

Summer had evidently settled in, and Libby drove to Nethergate with the windows down. She aimed to arrive in time to have a chat with Fran before they went to talk to George and Bert, but when she arrived at Harbour Street, there was nowhere to park, not even right at the end at the back of The Sloop. She turned the car and drove slowly back, across the square and past the ancient Swan Inn, before climbing up to Cliff Terrace, where she parked in front of Peel House, just in time to see Jane Baker descending the front steps.

‘Hello! How's the investigation going?' Jane crossed the road to speak to her.

‘Investigation?' repeated Libby cautiously.

‘The murders in Turkey? And the other one in London?'

‘Oh, they aren't anything to do with us,' said Libby. ‘The murderer's still in Turkey, they think.'

‘What about the woman who lived out at Cherry Ashton?'

‘Turns out she was only staying in her daughter's house,' said Libby.

‘So Sarjeant and Wolfe are out of the picture?' said Jane, with a knowing look.

‘Quite,' said Libby, uncomfortably.

Jane laughed. ‘All right, I won't push, but let me know if there's anything remotely publishable.'

Libby escaped gratefully back down to Harbour Street, and to her surprise, spotted Fran already seated at a table with George and Bert outside the Blue Anchor.

‘I've got some news for you,' she said, as Libby came up. ‘George and Bert actually found a boat full of illegal immigrants ten years ago.'

Chapter Twenty-three

‘No! Really?'

Libby stopped dead. George, Bert, and Fran all grinned up at her.

‘Yes, really.' Fran pulled out the chair next to her. ‘Sit down and we'll tell you all about it.'

Mavis sent the current girl over to take Libby's order, and Fran began the story.

‘It was about ten years, ago, wasn't it?' George and Bert nodded. ‘And well before the season started, so they went out on a fishing trip.'

‘We got a little ole fishin' boat, see,' said Bert. ‘Don't use it so much now.'

‘Them fish quotas, see,' said George. ‘Throwin' it all back. An' we don't want to take the bread out o' they fishermens' mouths.'

Libby knew how the European Union's fishing quotas had almost destroyed the small fishing fleets along the south-east coast of Britain.

‘So you were just out for a bit of sport,' she said. ‘Where did you go?'

‘All along the coast towards Creekmarsh,' Fran said. ‘How about that?'

Creekmarsh Place was the home of Lewis Osbourne-Walker, the television presenter for whom Adam and his gardener boss Mog worked. Its grounds led to the bank of an inlet, into which fed the little River Wytch, and was only a few hundred metres from the open sea.

‘Bit of a storm blew up, see,' said Bert, ‘so we popped inter the creek. And there's this boat, see, driftin' like.'

‘So we goes up to see iffen they wants some help. And there's all these girls. Cor.' George shook his head. ‘Nearly nekked they was. So us called coastguard.'

‘No one was with them?' asked Libby.

‘Nah,' said Bert. ‘Couldn't speak English, either, any of 'em.'

‘So what happened?'

‘We give 'em all the blankets and stuff we had on board and waited for coastguard. They wasn't long, an' they took our names. Put someone on board the boat and took 'er in.'

Mavis came to the table with Libby's tea and ham sandwich. Libby smiled her thanks, and Mavis stomped back to her kitchen.

‘Heart o' gold, really,' said George, indicating with his cigarette.

‘So do you know what happened to the girls on the boat?' asked Libby.

‘We both 'ad policeman come and take a statement, and there was a little bit on the telly. Not much. I reckon they wanted to keep it quiet.' Bert sucked on his pipe reflectively.

‘We got our blankets back.' said George. ‘Dunno what happened after that.'

‘You never came across any more?' said Libby.

‘Girls, or boats?' Bert threw his head back and guffawed.

‘Nah,' said George. ‘Customs boats got busier. Border Force now, o'course. An' we don't go out at night. 'Appen there's a few land along there at night. There was them tunnels up at Creekmarsh, wasn't there?'

‘Yes. Blocked now, though,' said Fran.

‘Like the one at St Aldeberge,' said Libby.

‘Oh, ah?' said George, looking interested. ‘Smugglin' all over, innit?'

Libby laughed. ‘Seems to be.'

She thought back over the adventures she and Fran had been involved in over the years, and yes. There was a lot of smuggling. But the Kent coast, the nearest to the European continent, was a prime target for smugglers, those taking things out, and those bringing things in. And illegal immigration and people trafficking was on the increase. Even two-way trafficking, where illegal immigrants would be smuggled out of Britain via Dover, taken to Italy where they would claim asylum, then get smuggled back into Britain. If they were repatriated, it would only be as far as Italy, as the last place they had claimed asylum. There were huge organised gangs operating these systems and charging their victims large sums of money.

‘I was thinking,' she said to Fran as they left George and Bert and wandered back down Harbour Street. ‘The nearest village to Creekmarsh is Cherry Ashton.'

‘Is that relevant?'

‘Well, I wondered if Sally's father had anything to do with smuggling these girls into the country. It sounds like his sort of thing.'

‘Sally and her mother had both moved away by that time,' said Fran, ‘so you can't link Sally with this. Besides, the fact that that boat was found in the creek was pure accident, I expect. Abandoned by the crew as soon as they found a place to get out safely.'

‘Doesn't that strike you as odd?' said Libby, stopping by Lizzie's ice cream booth. ‘Want one?'

‘Chocolate, please, Lizzie,' said Fran. ‘Why is that odd?'

‘Eh?' said Lizzie.

‘Sorry,' said Libby. ‘We were continuing a conversation. I'll have a double vanilla, please.'

‘Anyway,' she continued as they went to sit on the sea wall with their cornets, ‘Odd because the crew should have been the ones to hand over the girls and get paid. Why did they scarper?'

‘Thought they were going to get caught?'

‘But by whom?' persisted Libby. ‘Why go to all that trouble of bringing the boat over here, presumably all the way from Turkey – how would they have gone? Right through the middle of the Mediterranean, through the Straits of Gibraltar, up the coast of Portugal, northern Spain and France, blimey, it's a journey.'

‘Yes,' said Fran thoughtfully, ‘it is. And you're right. If you've brought them all that way, why leave without being paid. And without the boat. Someone would have been wanting that back.'

‘I bet I know.' Libby waved her ice cream cone. ‘The crew were illegal immigrants! Betcha!'

‘That makes sense,' said Fran. ‘Careful with that ice cream. If the crew volunteered to bring the boat over, they could have planned to get into the country and not go back. If they'd handed over the girls, the contacts over here would have made sure they left again.'

‘But the contacts here must have tried to find them – and the girls. And they would have reported back to the people in Turkey.'

‘Who were – who? Geoff Croker and his pals?'

‘Well, we don't know, do we?' Libby frowned. ‘But I bet that was what happened. And the police would have found a translator so they would have known where the boat set out from.'

‘And where the girls themselves came from. They could have come from anywhere, via one of those dreadful organisations who organise them.'

‘Like the girls from Transnistria.' Libby shuddered. ‘Poor things.'

Transnistria was a tiny sliver of a country between Moldova and Ukraine with a bad reputation as far as people trafficking was concerned.

‘I suppose ten years ago it would have been easier to get from the bank of the inlet across Creekmarsh's grounds. You couldn't do it now,' said Fran.

‘No – all those security patrols,' said Libby. ‘I'm glad we saw it before it was fully restored.'

‘And while the tunnels were … '

‘Still open,' Libby finished for her. ‘Yes.'

They sat quietly consuming ice cream for a minute, then turned to one another simultaneously.

‘They knew!'

‘Must have done.' Libby nodded. ‘That Creekmarsh was empty and unprotected.'

‘So someone here was organising it,' said Fran.

‘That was always the case. It's obviously one of those gangs.'

‘But someone knew specifically about Creekmarsh. It's quite hidden away – unless you knew it was here …'

‘And you'd have to know about the inlet, too.' Libby frowned out at the sea. ‘Why does it always seem to come back here?' She turned to Fran. ‘Hang on – how did Guy hear about Erzugan in the first place?'

‘What?' Fran nearly lost her ice cream.

‘Well – did someone mention it? Was it in the paper? We know it has never been a package tour destination, so how did he come across it?'

Fran stared, her mouth open. ‘Do you know, I never thought of that!' She slid off the wall. ‘Come on, let's go and ask him.'

They had to stand outside the shop until they'd finished their ice creams, to Guy's amusement.

‘What we want to know,' said Libby, once they'd made it inside.

‘Is how did you first hear about Erzugan?' said Fran.

‘How …?' Guy looked bemused. ‘What do you mean?'

Fran explained. ‘So how did you hear about it?'

Guy frowned and sat down behind his counter. ‘I can't remember. It wasn't through a travel agent, because I booked everything direct, as we did this time, although it wasn't as easy then.' He picked up his phone. ‘I'll ask Sophie if she remembers.'