Murder in the Green (18 page)

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Fran. ‘You phone Trisha, yes, we can hardly both do it, but we go and see Sir Jonathan together. He said coffee, didn’t he? We could go now.’

‘Now?’

‘I’ll come and pick you up on the way. You can phone Trisha while you’re waiting.’

‘She might not be able to talk at work,’ Libby demurred.

‘Well, make arrangements for a more convenient time, then. Come on, Lib, you’re usually the one who rushes ahead –’

‘Like a bull in a china shop,’ Libby finished for her. ‘Yes, I know.’

Sure enough, not only was Trisha unable to talk while at work, she showed distinct signs of having changed her mind about talking at all.

‘It was the champagne, I expect,’ she said giggling nervously. ‘It’s nothing really.’

Frustrated, Libby puffed out a sigh. ‘If you change your mind, give me a ring,’ she said, and gave Trisha the number.

‘Right,’ said Trisha. ‘Er – I’ll maybe, um – ring you some time. Like –’ she stopped suddenly. ‘Later,’ she almost whispered after a moment.

‘It was so strange,’ Libby said later to Fran, as they bowled along the road to Anderson Place once more. ‘First of all she didn’t want to talk to me, then she said she’d ring me.’

‘Perhaps there was someone in the office,’ said Fran.

‘Yes, but all she had to do then was say she’d call me back. She was – odd.’

Fran pulled in to the car park. ‘Do you think we should have called ahead?’ she said. ‘He might not be here.’

But as they walked into the impressive foyer of the Place, Sir Jonathan was coming towards them, obviously on his rounds, and professed himself delighted to see them.

‘Come up to the flat,’ he said. ‘More comfortable up there.’ He led the way to the gilt lift cage and they ascended slowly to the second floor.

When they were provided with coffee, Libby sat back in her chair and put her head on one side. ‘So, Sir Jonathan. What was it you wanted to talk to us about?’

‘First of all, are you going to look into his death?’

‘You know we can’t actually do that. We said so on Saturday night.’

‘And you remember what I replied. I only ask because I knew the man and I know his wife. I don’t think the police are looking in the right direction.’

‘I don’t know where the police are looking,’ said Libby. ‘Frankly, I doubt if they’d tell me, either.’

‘Of course they wouldn’t,’ said Sir Jonathan, ‘but I gather the investigation has centred on the Morris connection.’

‘Because of where and when he was murdered,’ said Fran. ‘I still find it amazing that someone could be killed like that in full view of everyone in broad daylight.’

‘But the other dancers were milling around all the time. Any one of them could have got close enough to do it,’ said Libby. ‘That’s why the police are concentrating on that side of his life.’

‘And the fact that John Lethbridge has disappeared.’

‘And why haven’t they found him?’ asked Sir Jonathan.

Libby and Fran looked at him. ‘Why?’

‘Yes. If he killed poor Bill, he’s gone into hiding. That’s what they think, don’t they? But
why
did he kill Bill?’

Libby looked bewildered. ‘Why?’ she said again.

‘Think about it,’ said Sir Jonathan, his eyes sparkling under the bushy white eyebrows. ‘If John Lethbridge killed Bill, there must have been a reason. If it was to keep himself safe from some threat he wouldn’t go into hiding. He might go into hiding to avoid the threat, but he wouldn’t kill – do you see?’

Libby was still looking bewildered, but Fran nodded slowly. ‘I see. If Bill was killed to keep a secret safe, that must mean that the killer wanted to carry on living as he’d always done.’

Libby’s face cleared. ‘Oh, I see! That’s clever, Sir Jonathan. Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Oh, please, drop the Sir.’ The old man chuckled. ‘I must say, awful though this is, I’m quite enjoying working things out.’

‘I can see that,’ said Fran, amused. ‘What made you want to, though?’

‘I told you. I knew Bill, and his wife. Funny little thing, she is. Very quiet.’

‘And you’d been doing business with Bill and his company for some time?’

‘Oh, yes. Since we first opened. Frensham Marketing did all our publicity, set up the website, everything. Even found us Mel.’

‘Really?’ said Fran. ‘They interviewed her?’

‘Not exactly. She was working for another of their clients. I’m afraid we poached her.’ He chuckled again. ‘Stripy hair and all.’

‘Yes, she’s changed since I first saw her,’ said Libby.

‘Did you know John Lethbridge?’ asked Fran.

‘No. I’d met him when he came here to one of Bill’s functions, but that was all. But you see, if he’s disappeared and they suspect him, they must have linked him to Bill, and it surely wouldn’t just be because of any connection to the Morris men.’

‘Something outside, then. Perhaps he was having an affair and Bill found out?’ said Libby.

‘No, he was divorced, remember? Your friend told us,’ said Fran.

‘Oh, yes. Willy.’

‘But, as Jonathan says, if he killed Bill to stop him telling all, he would have meant to stay around.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Libby frowned. ‘Complicated isn’t it? So do we believe Lethbridge’s disappearance has nothing to do with Bill’s death?’

‘That’s what I think,’ said Sir Jonathan. ‘I think someone from outside mingled with the Morris dancers.’

‘Outside the Morris side, you mean?’ said Libby. ‘So it could be anyone? A business associate?’

‘It seems logical to me,’ said Sir Jonathan.

Fran and Libby looked at one another. ‘In a convoluted way, it does to me, too,’ said Fran.

‘And Trisha!’ said Libby excitedly. She turned to Sir Jonathan. ‘Trisha works at Bill’s company for a man called – what was his name, Fran?’

‘Phillips, was it?’

‘Yes, Phillips. And she wanted to talk to us because she said she thought there was something funny going on.’

‘Really?’ Sir Jonathan’s eyebrows almost met his hairline. ‘I’d never have thought it. Bill was always the most honest and straightforward businessman I knew.’

‘Maybe,’ said Libby slowly, ‘she didn’t mean business-wise. Maybe she meant personnel-wise.’

‘Ah.’ Sir Jonathan nodded. ‘That could be it, of course. I think there was a bit of friction with a woman there at one time.’

‘Trisha said someone was gutted about Bill’s death,’ said Libby, ‘but I’m not sure in what way.’

‘Well, you’ll find out if Trisha phones you, won’t you?’ said Fran, and stood up. ‘Thank you for the coffee, Jonathan, and for the ideas. If we find anything else out we’ll let you know.’

‘Please do,’ said Sir Jonathan, looking wistful.

Libby impulsively kissed him on the cheek. ‘And if we go off looking for something, you can come too.’

Sir Jonathan brightened immediately. ‘Good stuff!’ he said. ‘I’ll see you out.’

Back in the car, Fran turned to Libby with a frown. ‘Why did you say that?’

‘What, that he could come too? Well, why not. If we go and see someone to ask questions he could be useful.’

‘Has it occurred to you that we have no right to ask anybody any questions? We’re only looking into this as an intellectual exercise, remember?’

Libby turned to look out of the window. ‘Sure,’ she said.

‘That’s all very well,’ she told Sidney later, ‘but Fran was the one who was interested in the first place. She’s just dying to find out more about this, I know she is.’ Sidney put his ears back, but didn’t move. ‘What she needs is a good “moment” that will send her off on the right track, then she can make the excuse that she’s actually helping the police. And,’ she added gloomily, ‘she probably will be.’

A trip to the Cattlegreen Nurseries Farm shop seemed indicated in order to buy vegetables for a stir fry, so Libby collected her basket and set off down the lane. Just as she reached the bottom a car turned in rather fast and shot past her, only to pull up abruptly almost in front of number 17. Libby stood and watched, frowning, as the car door opened and a blonde head poked out.

‘Trisha!’ Libby started back up the lane again.

Trisha got out of the car and stood looking uncomfortable, her hand on the door handle.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you.’

‘No,’ said Libby in an admonitory tone. ‘I could tell. Did you want me?’

Stupid question, she thought, seeing as she’s standing in front of my house.

‘Yes. Am I holding you up? Were you going out?’

‘Yes, but it’s not important.’ Libby fished in the basket for her keys and unlocked the door. ‘Watch the step – oh, and the cat.’

Sidney, affronted, darted between their legs and off up the lane.

‘So, is this your lunch hour?’ asked Libby. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, no that’s all right, said Trisha, perching uncomfortably on the edge of the armchair. ‘I don’t want to disturb you.’

‘Tea, then? Or coffee? I’d offer you a glass of wine, but you’re driving.’

‘Coffee, then, that would be lovely.’

‘Right.’ Libby went into the kitchen and tested the kettle on the Rayburn. She moved it onto the hotplate and left it to boil.

‘Come on then, you’ve obviously got something to tell me that you didn’t want to over the phone.’ Libby sat on the sofa. ‘How did you know where I lived?’

‘Jane told me.’ Trisha looked down at her hands twisting together in her lap. ‘I thought I ought not to tell you, it seemed disloyal, somehow, but I talked to Jane about it, and she said you were very discreet’ (really? thought Libby) ‘and you were very good at making sense of things.’ Trisha looked up. ‘You and Fran, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Libby. ‘So what it is it?’

‘Well – ever since Mr Frensham died Miss Martin and Mr Phillips have been arguing. It’s always behind closed doors, and they never do it in front of anybody, but it’s been really horrible.’ She paused. ‘And then, last week…’ her voice tailed off.

‘Last week?’ prompted Libby.

‘I had to go back into the office to collect something. Everyone had gone home and I got my files and then,’ she swallowed, ‘I heard someone moving about in Mr Frensham’s office.’

‘Go on,’ said Libby.

‘I knew nobody should be in there, because the police had cleared it of everything they thought they might need and sealed it. So I – I went and knocked.’

‘And who was it?’

‘That’s just it! I don’t know. First of all there was no more movement, then there was a sort of noise, then nothing. So I opened the door.’ Trisha was looking frightened now, and Libby guessed it had taken a good deal of courage to attempt to face up to an intruder.

‘And when I opened the door,’ she continued, ‘the room was empty. And the only other way out was the door into Miss Martin’s office. And there was no one in there either.’

‘Did you tell anyone?”

Trisha nodded. ‘I told Mr Phillips. I called him right then, on his mobile.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘Nothing. He laughed and said it didn’t matter, just lock up and he’d see me on site in the morning. That’s why I’d needed the files you see. We had a site meeting.’

‘And you’re not happy about this?’

‘Well, no. If someone’s snooping round Mr Frensham’s office, when there’s nothing much left in there, what do they want, and why is it such a secret? And why are Miss Martin and Mr Phillips fighting?’

Libby shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea, Trisha, but it can’t have anything to do with Mr Frensham’s death, can it?’

‘But the next day when we got back to the office, Mr Phillips went in to see Miss Martin and they had another row. And the door was a little bit open.’ Trisha coloured. ‘I couldn’t help hearing, you see. Miss Martin was speaking. Sort of almost hissing at him.’

‘And what was she saying?’

Trisha swallowed again. ‘I’ll kill you. That’s what she said. I’ll kill you.’

Chapter Eighteen

‘So what we have to do,’ said Fran later on the phone, ‘is talk to this Miss Martin.’

‘Elizabeth Martin,’ said Libby. ‘but how do we do that? We can’t just barge into Frensham Holdings and demand to see her.’

‘We’ll have to find out a way to talk to her outside of work. Find out where she goes, what she does.’

‘Oh, come on, Fran, be sensible,’ said Libby. ‘How on earth do we do that? We know nothing about her, we have no connection to Frensham Holdings and the only person we know willing – just – to talk about her is Trisha.’

‘Barry Phillips, then,’ suggested Fran. ‘How about him?’

‘Same applies. Let’s face it, we’re out on a limb here, despite you wanting to find out all about it. No way in anywhere. At least we’ve had
some
kind of connection in the past, but this time we’ve nothing.’

‘What about your friend Gemma? She was the one who asked you in the first place.’

‘We – ell,’ said Libby.