DECIDING TO HAVE LUNCH when they returned to the Ashton Arms, they finished their drinks and set off after their involuntary host.
‘Do you know all your neighbours in this terrace?’ asked Fran.
‘Yes. We have a little neighbourhood watch scheme – we’re so out of the way we need to keep an eye out for each other.’
‘We noticed that,’ said Libby.
‘Me being nosy? Sorry about that, but so were you, as far as I was concerned.’
Libby decided not to mention Mr Vindari, and hoped the others wouldn’t either. She couldn’t quite say why she didn’t want to mention him, just that it didn’t feel right.
The walked up the little drive to the carriage arch and underneath to face a long two-storey building of mellow red brick.
‘Welcome to Ashton Court.’ Hugh waved an ironic hand. ‘Not my choice, my father converted a barn after the original house was demolished.’
‘It’s lovely.’ Rosie beamed at him. ‘You’re so lucky.’
Fran and Libby exchanged looks. Hugh preened slightly.
‘Come on in, then,’ he said.
He led them up a wide stairway to the upper floor and along a corridor to what appeared to have been an oast roundel at the end.
‘There,’ he said. ‘Panoramic views.’
They went over to the windows which looked out over a hundred and eighty degree prospect. Below them were obviously the gardens of the Court, to their right the back gardens of Ashton Terrace, and further over were the trees which formed the boundary to the White Lodge estate. Libby was surprised to see a much larger open area behind the barn than there had been previously. A white van, stakes and blue-and-white tape marked the fact that it was still a scene of crime and under the aegis of the police. The huge barn doors were now open, and inside she could see white-boiler-suited figures moving about.
‘You can see inside, can’t you,’ she said.
‘But not quite what they’re doing,’ said Hugh, behind her. ‘Until yesterday I didn’t know they were digging up bodies. Although when your friend the Inspector arrived it was fairly obviously something important. I thought it must be drugs.’
‘That’s what we thought,’ said Fran.
‘Oh?’
‘What I meant was – that’s why they went in to search,’ said Fran, turning back to the window.
‘I don’t get it.’ Hugh perched on a windowsill and surveyed them all. ‘You say you’re not police, but you’re obviously working with them, you’ve admitted that. But what on? As what?’
‘They’re helping me,’ Rosie said suddenly. ‘I own the barn. And the White Lodge estate.’
‘Ah.’ Hugh nodded. ‘I see. So my friend Mr Vindari was right.’
‘He told you?’ asked Libby.
‘After your last visit. He also said you’d told him the police were digging up bodies. I’m afraid I told him he was too gullible.’ He shrugged. ‘And then when the police came and didn’t say anything we decided it couldn’t be murder or we’d know about it. But it was.’
Libby turned back to the window. It was interesting to note, she thought, that the two gardens belonging to Ashton Terrace between the Court and the barn both led on to a field behind, which in turn bordered the estate trees. It would be easy to gain access from there, even if overlooked from here. Although there was little sign of any disturbance to the line of trees.
‘Who owns that field?’ she asked.
‘I do. I own all the land beyond the terrace and the church as far as the next farm on the Heronsbourne Road.’
‘Is that as big as mine?’ Rosie asked ingenuously. Libby narrowed her eyes at her. Surely Hugh wasn’t naive enough to fall for that. He smiled, rather suavely, Libby thought.
‘I shouldn’t think so. The White Lodge estate, we now know, although we didn’t before, runs all the way between this road and the coast road.’
‘Is that the road White Lodge is actually on?’
‘Yes. We call it the coast road, but it really only runs parallel with the coast.’
Rosie nodded and turned back to the windows.
Libby felt Fran nudge her shoulder slightly. About to ask, she saw Fran nod at the window. Below them, Aakarsh Vindari stood in one of the gardens looking up at them.
‘Do we wave?’ muttered Libby.
‘Well, it was really good of you to show us, Hugh,’ said Fran, moving away from the windows, ‘but Brenda will have our meals ready by now.’
‘Yes, thank you so much,’ said Libby. ‘Very enlightening.’
Hugh raised his eyebrows, but before he could speak Rosie broke in.
‘I’d like to see more of your barn,’ she said. ‘Could you apologise to Brenda for me, girls? And don’t wait for me if you’ve finished before I get back.’ She smiled sweetly. Hugh looked surprised, and Fran and Libby aghast.
‘Up to Hugh,’ said Libby.
‘No, of course I don’t mind,’ he said, looking down at Rosie for all the world as if he were going to pat her hand and call her “little woman”.
Outside on their own, Fran and Libby looked at one another.
‘Well!’ said Fran.
‘Harry was right about her. She is an inveterate flirt,’ said Libby.
‘And at her age!’
‘You’d think it would be difficult to find men personable enough at that age to flirt with, if you know what I mean.’
‘Who didn’t want women young enough to be their granddaughters,’ added Fran.
‘Which most of them do,’ agreed Libby. ‘We were both lucky.’
Fran nodded solemnly and they walked back in silence to the Ashton Arms.
Libby apologised about Rosie and Brenda shrugged. ‘S’allright,’ she said. ‘She’d paid up front. I’ll bring yours over. Stayed up at the Court has she?’
‘Er – yes. She wanted to see over it,’ said Fran.
‘Don’t know how he does it,’ said Brenda, going towards the kitchen. ‘Charm the knickers off a nun, he would.’
Libby snorted with laughter.
‘Just right for each other then, aren’t they?’ said Fran as they went to sit down.
‘Although I would say Rosie is what we used to call a prick-teaser,’ said Libby thoughtfully. ‘I bet what happened with Andrew is that she led him on and when he pounced she got the shock of her life.’
‘More traumatised than that,’ said Fran. ‘We’ll probably never know. You were sure they’d gone to bed together.’
‘Mmm.’ Libby watched Brenda approaching with their food. ‘Ooh, I did enjoy that sausage pie. Hope this is as good.’
It was.
Rosie had not appeared by the time Fran and Libby had finished their lunch and coffee.
‘Well, I’m not waiting around for her,’ said Libby, standing up. ‘Come on, Fran.’
Once outside, she stopped dead. ‘Her car’s not here.’
‘Perhaps she moved it to the Court,’ said Fran.
‘No we’d have seen her go past the window if she went that way,’ said Libby. ‘She must have crept round the side and driven off towards the coast road.’
‘To see how big Hugh’s estate really is?’ Fran laughed.
‘I expect she might already have found that out,’ said Libby with a giggle.
‘I wonder why she didn’t come and say goodbye,’ said Fran.
‘Embarrassment?’
‘Possibly.’ Fran unlocked her car. ‘I’ll ring her when I get home. Ring me if you hear from her first.’
Libby drove slowly home. This, she decided was all rather suspicious. First, Rosie wanted to go back to the village and had more or less coerced Libby and Fran into accompanying her. Then there was her wish to go and see the upstairs of Ashton court, which Libby, in the end, had made happen for her. And, finally, the very obvious ploy of staying on her own with Hugh. And now the disappearing car.
‘I should have gone down towards the coast road,’ Libby said to herself. ‘Then I could have seen if there was anywhere she could have turned off or parked. I bet she went back to Ashton Court.’
As soon as she arrived home, Libby called both Rosie’s numbers. Both went to voice mail. She called Fran.
‘Same here,’ said Fran. ‘It’s odd.’
‘Not if she did get back to Ashton Court through a back way,’ said Libby. ‘She and Hugh are probably wallowing creakily in a tangle of sheets by now.’
‘I don’t want to think about that,’ said Fran. ‘So there’s nothing we can do apart from wait to hear from her.’
‘She’s hardly a missing person,’ said Libby. ‘And that reminds me, do you think Ian’s found out any more about the Asian girls?’
‘He might have done, but it’s probably a bit early,’ said Fran. ‘We can hardly ask, can we?’
‘No,’ sighed Libby. ‘We can see if anything’s on the news later.’ She looked out of the window. ‘Bother. It’s started to rain again.’
She and Ben watched all the local news programmes that evening but the only reference to murder was discovery of two dead males in an alley somewhere in the Medway area.
‘Come on,’ said Libby, switching off the set. ‘We’ve got the meeting at the theatre tonight.’
‘And you still haven’t decided what we’re doing for Christmas,’ said Ben.
The meeting was, as usual, followed by a gathering in the pub.
‘How’s the investigation going?’ asked Peter as they squashed round a table.
Libby updated him adding that she didn’t think she and Fran were going to be involved any longer.
‘Ben might,’ she said, idly stirring her drink with a finger. ‘Now he’s given his report to Ian. We might find out what’s happened with that.’
‘Shocking business,’ said Peter, shaking his head. ‘I don’t mean all those unfortunate TB victims, although that’s sad, of course, but these honour killings, if that’s what they are.’
‘They’re all Asian,’ said Libby. ‘I don’t see what else they can be.’
‘That’s a bit of a generalisation,’ said Ben.
‘Hmm,’ said Libby. ‘And there’s another thing. You know I told you about the Indian guy, Vindari, Pete?’
‘The restaurant bloke.’ Peter nodded wisely and stretched out his long legs.
‘His garden leads into the field at the back which butts right up to the trees surrounding the barn and he could get in quite easily.’
‘Were there any breaks in the trees?’ asked Ben.
‘Not that I could see,’ said Libby.
‘Ian will have questioned him by now. And they’ll have investigated the whole of the perimeter, too,’ said Ben.
‘They missed the signs of entry Fran and I found, didn’t they?’ Libby finished her drink and frowned.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Peter patted her hand. ‘Your Ian’s very thorough. Not much gets past him.’
‘But it does. Sometimes it’s Fran or me that tells him things he doesn’t know.’
‘But you’ve told him everything now, so he’ll be on top of it.’ Peter stood up. ‘Come on. Have another drink and cheer up.’
Harry arrived in one of his trademark pink shirts and draped himself over his partner at the bar.
‘Customers all gone?’ asked Peter.
‘Only a few tonight,’ said Harry. ‘I let Donna go early. Ad’s got young Sophie stowed away in the flat, so he didn’t mind staying on.’ He turned to the table and swung his leg over a chair. ‘Hello, my little investigator. How’re things with you?’
Libby told him. When she got to Rosie’s defection he snorted.
‘Told you, didn’t I? Right horny old biddy.’
‘I don’t know how you know so much,’ said Libby, on her dignity. ‘You’re gay.’
‘Oh, be still my beating heart! She noticed,’ said Harry, clapping a hand to his head. ‘That’s why, you old trout. They often come on to us. All they see is a nice young man paying them some attention – we’re so kind to our elders, you see – and not being quite as au fait with modern sexual mores as you, petal, they go all unnecessary.’
‘Oh. So that’s what Rosie’s done, is it? Gone all unnecessary?’
‘Course not. She’s not that old, and she’s a novelist, isn’t she? She knows what’s what. I bet she’ll turn up all innocence, wide-eyed because she can’t think what the fuss was about.’
‘There hasn’t been any fuss,’ said Libby. ‘Fran and I came to the same conclusion. I doubt if she’ll tell us what happened, or why, and we can hardly ask.’
‘Shame,’ said Harry. ‘I do love a bit of gossip.’
‘If I hear anything, I’ll tell you,’ said Libby. ‘Although I doubt if I’ll hear from her for a while.’
But in the morning, the phone rang before nine o’clock.
‘Libby?’
‘Ian! What’s up?’
‘Where’s your Rosie? She’s not answering either of her phones, her car’s missing and she’s not at home.’