Murder in the Blood (32 page)

‘I'm not sure. You were very odd over the last twenty-four hours. Not like yourself at all.'

Libby looked down at her hands guiltily. ‘I felt very odd,' she admitted. ‘As though part of me had gone.'

Ben leant in and kissed her. ‘Well, now it's back. Go on. I'll see you at home.'

Her basket began burbling just as she was driving down the high street and by the time she'd parked it had stopped. Before getting out of the car, she had a look at it. One missed call. A newly developing sense of self-preservation prompted her to ignore it as she didn't recognise the number, but when she'd let herself into number 17, tripped down the steps and over Sidney, she saw that the answerphone light was winking.

‘Mrs Sarjeant, it's Johnny Smith here. I believe you know about Sally Weston's house going on the market? DCI Connell may have already told you that there's been a request to view? We're trying to check up on the prospective viewer, and we wondered if you could ask Ms Weston's mother if she recognises the name?'

Couldn't you do that, Libby muttered to herself as she made her way kitchenwards to make tea. And how am I supposed to ask when you haven't given me the name?

She waited until Ben appeared and asked him what he thought. Ben's eyebrows disappeared into his (receding) hairline.

‘You mean you haven't rung back immediately?'

‘Well, no. I wondered what I ought to do.'

‘I suppose you'll have to ring back. Ian said you couldn't stay out of it now, didn't he?'

‘Yes, but this is a bit odd. Why isn't he or Smith asking Carol? Why ask me to do it?'

‘Because you're less scary? Because she's got used to you? You did say she sounded disappointed when you told her you wouldn't be in touch any more.'

Libby sighed. ‘OK. Pour yourself some tea. There's some in the pot.'

As the number was withheld on the landline, Libby used the number displayed on her mobile.

‘Mrs Sarjeant, good to hear from you.' Johnny Smith sounded as comfortable and jovial as he had when they first met in Turkey.

‘Commander Smith.'

‘Oh, please, call me Johnny. Now, you got my message?'

‘I did, but I would have thought you or DCI Connell would have been the right person to ask Mrs Oxford.'

‘Actually this was DCI Connell's idea. He though Mrs Oxford would speak more feely to you.'

‘But all you've got to do is ask her if she knows someone by the name of – what? You didn't tell me that?'

‘But you're in a better position to dig around a little. She might not immediately remember the name, but if you get her talking she might come up with some sort of a link.'

So much for staying out of it, thought Libby. Aloud, she said, ‘I suppose I could try. What's the name?'

‘Hamilton.'

‘Male or female?'

‘We don't know. The way this works is that people fill in an online form. A space is provided for a phone number, but it's often not filled in. Apparently a lot of people don't like being pestered on the telephone.'

I know how they feel, thought Libby. ‘So I just ask her if she's ever known anyone called Hamilton?'

‘That's the ticket!'

‘But why?' asked Libby. ‘There's nothing in that house. Sally Weston hadn't lived there since she packed up and went to Turkey –' she hesitated, ‘after she left the force.'

There was a silence at the other end.

‘The force?' repeated Commander Smith eventually.

‘Well, yes. She was in the force, wasn't she?' Libby's fingers were so tightly crossed they were beginning to hurt.

‘Er – yes. Of course.'

‘So you knew who she was? Right from the beginning?' said Libby, greatly daring.

Ben appeared before her, frowning ferociously.

‘No, no!' said Smith hastily. ‘It came up a bit later.'

Libby realised she couldn't very well ask him anything else.

‘Very well. Is this the best number to reach you on?'

‘This is the mobile. You've got my card, haven't you?'

‘Have I?'

‘Didn't I give you a card when I came to see you and Mrs Wolfe?'

‘I don't think so,' said Libby, wracking her brains.

‘I'll always answer this one, don't worry. When do you think you might be able to get back to me?'

‘I don't know. I am rather busy you know.'

Ben raised his eyebrows.

‘Soon as you can, then. Prospective purchasers don't like to be kept waiting. Ha!'

Libby switched off the phone and repeated the conversation.

‘I don't see what harm it can do,' said Ben.

‘No, neither do I, actually, but I do feel as if I'm doing their dirty work for them.'

‘Do it now, then you don't have to worry any more and you can concentrate on our last rehearsal tonight.'

Feeling as though she was about to sit an exam on a subject she knew nothing about, Libby found Carol's number.

‘Oh, hello, Libby! I thought I wouldn't hear from you again.'

‘The police thought you'd rather talk to me than them,' said Libby.

‘Oh? What about?'

‘Somebody's asked to view Sally's house, and they want to know if you recognise the name.'

‘I wonder why?' Carol was obviously puzzled.

‘Honestly,' sighed Libby, ‘I've no idea. You and I know there's nothing there, so what they're worrying about I really don't know. Anyway, do you know anybody by the name of Hamilton?'

‘Hamilton? I don't think so. It's a very common name, isn't it? I suppose I might have done in the past. Would you like to me to look through my old address book?'

No! Libby wanted to shout, but instead said ‘I'm sure the police would think that was very helpful.'

‘All right. I'll have to dig it out – we don't use them much any more, do we, with emails and things. Can I ring you back?'

‘Yes, of course,' said Libby tiredly. And I just hope Commander bloody Smith doesn't keep ringing before then.

The final rehearsal went well, despite the costumes and props being unavailable, and Susannah pronounced herself satisfied with both ensemble pieces and soloists. David the drummer made his first appearance and made notes of where he might be able to contribute to the comedy and at last, at ten minutes to ten, Libby let them all go.

‘Your basket was ringing earlier,' Peter told her as she climbed down into the auditorium. ‘I didn't like to interrupt.'

Libby groaned.

‘Go on, who is it?'

Libby told him about Commander Smiths' request. ‘So this will either be him asking why I haven't called back or Carol telling me she doesn't know any Hamiltons.'

‘Libby? I finally found my address book! And guess what? We did know some Hamiltons!'

Chapter Thirty-seven

Libby sank down into one of the red plush seats. ‘You do?'

‘Yes! Well, we did. When I was still married – when I still lived in Cherry Ashton.'

‘Ah.' Libby waited for Carol to go on. When she didn't, Libby sighed.

‘Oh, sorry. Well, yes, they're in my old address book and at first I couldn't remember who they were.'

‘And who were they?'

‘They were friends of my friend Valerie – I think I mentioned her, didn't I?'

‘Yes – you said you'd heard from her recently.'

‘Not that recently. It was a few months ago, now.'

‘So you're not in touch regularly and you don't really know the Hamiltons?'

‘No.' Carol was apologetic. ‘It was a long shot really, wasn't it?'

‘Yes.' Libby sighed again. ‘But just to be on the safe side, I'll tell DCI Connell.'

‘All right. They used to live near Valerie after she married – that's how we met. We went to dinner a couple of times with them. I lost contact with them and practically everyone else after – well, you know.'

‘Of course. You don't remember their names? Or the address?'

‘Susan and – oh, what was his name? Simon, I think, but I've got the address, it's here in the address book.'

‘Oh, good. Could you send that to me in a text? And does Valerie still live near them?'

‘Oh, no!' Carol laughed. ‘She and her husband moved to London years ago. They've got a very swish flat in South Kensington.'

‘Oh – money, then,' said Libby, million pound signs floating in her head.

‘More money than they know what to do with,' said Carol. ‘That's one of the reasons we never kept up with them. We couldn't, you see.'

Libby decided she didn't like Valerie much. ‘Well, that's great, thank you, Carol. I personally don't see what this has to do with anything, as I said, but I'll pass it on. Sorry to have put you to so much trouble.'

‘Oh, it was no trouble.' Now it was Carol's turn to sigh. ‘It was good to have something to do.'

A minute later, the address of the Hamiltons came through.

‘Maidstone again,' said Libby, levering herself from the seat. ‘I think I'll give it to Ian, not smarmy Smith.'

‘You're going to have to explain that, dear heart,' said Peter. ‘Now, come on. Hal has some fizz on ice at the caff to celebrate the end of rehearsals.'

Ben and Fran joined them and they walked down the Manor drive together while Libby explained what had been going on with Smith, Carol Oxford, and the Hamiltons.

‘And really, I can't see that people Carol knew vaguely twenty years ago, or whatever it was, has anything whatsoever to do with the murders or the trafficking.'

‘Why don't you want to give the address to Smith?' asked Ben. ‘He was the one who asked for it.'

‘We don't trust him,' said Fran. ‘He's known more than he's told everyone right from the start.'

Libby's basket began to ring again. She took the phone out with some trepidation. ‘Oh, it's all right,' she said. ‘Ian. Hello, Ian?'

‘What's this address you just sent through?'

‘Oh, sorry, I thought you'd know.'

‘Know what? Who are the Hamiltons?'

‘Didn't you know?' asked Libby, in some surprise. ‘It was you who told me that there's been a request to view.'

‘No, I didn't. Who told you?'

‘Smith.' Libby explained how she'd finally obtained the Hamiltons' address. ‘I don't see how it can help, and Carol hasn't seen these people for twenty years.'

‘So why did Smith ask –' Ian suddenly broke off. ‘Thanks, Libby. I'll see to it. Don't bother to call Smith.'

‘It might have nothing to do with the Hamilton who's requested the viewing. It's a common name,' said Libby.

‘It's a coincidence. Worth looking at. I'll be in touch.'

‘Well!' said Libby to the others. ‘Ian didn't know anything about it.'

‘You see?' said Fran. ‘Smith's not to be trusted.'

‘I think,' said Peter, as they resumed their way down the drive, ‘that he's in a very difficult position. He works for an undercover arm of the Security Services, presumably, and he's been thrust into the middle of a murder enquiry that he's trying to keep quiet, but which has slipped out of his control.'

‘Because of Justin's murder.' Libby nodded thoughtfully. ‘I hadn't looked at it like that.'

‘You've still got the keys, haven't you, Lib?' said Fran as they reached The Pink Geranium.

‘Yes, why?'

Fran shook her head slightly as Peter opened the door and ushered them all inside. On the coffee table in front of the sofa in the window stood two ice buckets from which foil wrapped bottle tops emerged. Adam appeared with a tray of glasses.

‘Compliments of the chef,' he said with a grin. ‘Save some for me.'

The champagne was duly opened, and the success of The End Of The Pier Show toasted.

‘So what did you mean?' Libby asked Fran in an undertone, while Ben and Peter started talking about the lighting rig at The Alexandria.

‘Not now. I'll call you in the morning.'

Libby sat back, a simmering bundle of frustration.

Harry joined them for a quick glass and Adam finished off the second bottle after ushering the final diners out of the door.

‘And we'll go now,' said Ben. ‘Come on, Fran, we'll walk you back up the drive.'

‘No need,' said Fran. ‘I'm parked over the road. Speak to you tomorrow, Lib.'

‘What about?' Ben asked suspiciously as he and Libby walked slowly down the high street.

‘She wanted to know exactly what Carol and Smith said,' Libby said, almost truthfully.

‘Well, you certainly didn't stay away from the coalface for long, did you?' Ben tucked her arm through his. ‘Just be careful.' He turned and looked at her. ‘And don't say you always are.'

‘No, Ben,' said Libby meekly.

Libby was in the middle of a full English breakfast when Fran called.

‘Ben cooked it, not me,' she said through a mouthful of wicked fried bread. ‘So what's up?'

‘When is this viewing supposed to happen?'

‘I don't know. Could you ask Richard?'

‘And what about the Hamiltons? Are they still where they were?'

‘I don't know, Fran! I just passed on the information.'

‘What was that address? I'll look them up.'

Libby sighed. ‘OK. I'll forward Carol's text to you. Why is it important?'

‘I don't know. I'll call you if I find anything out.'

‘Fran's got a bee in her bonnet,' Libby told Ben, turning back to her breakfast.

‘Just hope it doesn't buzz over this way,' said Ben. ‘More tea?'

Libby turned her attention to her rather neglected house and spent most of the morning dusting, changing beds, and wiping down paintwork. Feeling virtuous, she heated some soup at lunchtime and went to sit under the cherry tree. Ben had gone to the estate office and then to lunch with his mother.