Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) by Lesley Cookman Read Free Book Online

and through a door marked private, where they climbed a well polished staircase to another door marked private.
    ‘Sorry about this, but if we didn’t keep a tiny bit of the house to ourselves, we’d go mad.’ Alastair Beaumont opened the door and ushered them into a room with huge windows overlooking the park, with a view in the distance of what looked like ruins.
    ‘Jennifer,’ he said, ‘here are our guests.’
    A short woman with greying brown hair and a bright pink cardigan came forward with an equally bright smile.
    ‘So good to meet you all,’ she said. ‘And we’re dying to hear all about the relic. I boiled the kettle while Alastair was downstairs fetching you, so we can all have tea.’
    When they were all settled in armchairs surrounding the empty fireplace with cups of tea, Libby began the story as it had gradually unfolded to them.
    ‘It’s intriguing,’ said Alastair when she had finished, assisted by Peter, who told of his visit to the Abbey and the forthcoming play. ‘We knew nothing about the documents. How did your policeman know they were genuine?’
    ‘Actually, I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘I mean, they were authenticated by someone in the Arts and Antiquities department as being original old paper and ink – apparently they can practically tell what year the ink is from – and they have the Beaumont crest on them. Further than that, I don’t know. But I expect Chief Inspector Connell will be in touch to ask you to verify them.’
    ‘And these documents are where, now? Or rather, where were they found?’ asked Jennifer Beaumont.
    ‘They were provided by the solicitor handling the estate of a Mr Marshall, the collector who died,’ said Peter. ‘We think he bought it in all honesty. The documents would certainly make it appear legitimate.’
    ‘So we don’t know who sold it to him?’ Alastair Beaumont frowned at his tea cup. ‘And you say someone was murdered, too?’
    ‘Yes, a Bernard Evans back in the seventies, but we don’t know where it came from then. He had inherited it, we think.’
    ‘I wonder if he’s a distant connection of ours?’ said Jennifer Beaumont. ‘We have Evanses in the family, don’t we dear?’
    Alastair laughed. ‘I should think everyone in England has Evanses somewhere in their families, Jenny.’
    ‘All right, I know I’m a bit dim.’ Jennifer smiled comfortably, not at all put out.
    ‘Well, when we’ve finished our tea we’ll go down to the muniment room and you can see what I’ve dug out so far since your phone call,’ said Alastair.
    A white-painted arched door led into the muniment room, which was not, as Libby had thought, a dim and dusty dungeon, but a light room with tall windows, shelves on the walls, also white-painted, and a polished round table in the middle. Library steps stood against one set of shelves which held what appeared to be modern brown storage boxes, while against one wall stood a beautiful apothecary’s chest and an ancient telescope. More boxes could be seen through a cupboard door which stood open.
    ‘As you can see,’ said Alastair, ‘we’re trying to catalogue everything and make everything more accessible, especially since we’ve had the archaeologists around. And we already had these out after the discovery of the earlier monastic house.’
    On the table were fragile documents in what could have been Sanskrit as far as Libby was concerned.
    ‘These are the letters brought back with St Eldreda’s finger after she died. Very rare. Then these,’ Alastair lifted a leather bound book which looked as though it might fall apart at a sudden breath, ‘are the reports of Brother Thomas bringing the reliquary here. We’d always wondered why he came here, but of course St Eldreda had a connection with this place, although we don’t actually know what that was.’
    ‘And it was quite safe here from thereon?’ asked Libby.
    ‘Well, actually, no, it wasn’t.’ Alastair smiled wryly. ‘It has a