Murder Out of Tune - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery by Lesley Cookman Read Free Book Online Page B

I’m asked for help – even by the police. Well, by Ian, anyway.’
    ‘Is he your tame policeman?’
    ‘I wouldn’t say tame, exactly, but we became friends after Fran helped him with a murder investigation some years ago. He was very interested in Fran for a while, but she came down on Guy’s side in the end.’ Libby glanced across at Cassandra. ‘Pity you’re not a bit younger. You would have done very well for Ian.’
    ‘Well, thanks! I’m sorry I’m not younger, too! But I wouldn’t worry about me. I’m used to living on my own, and I don’t think I could stand a man around the place after all this time.’
    ‘That’s how I felt when I got together with Ben,’ said Libby. ‘But – I don’t know – we sort of slid into living together. He’d stay overnight, and then it would be two nights, and some of his stuff would appear in the cottage and there we were. He did try and persuade me to move into Steeple Farm a while ago, but it didn’t feel right.’
    ‘Steeple Farm?’
    ‘Where Ben’s Aunt Millie – Peter’s mother, you know – lived. It technically belongs to Peter and his brother James, but Ben renovated it, you knew he was an architect, didn’t you? And now it’s let. It used to be short-term lets only, holidays and stuff, but that was too much like hard work, so now it’s let to a permanent tenant.’
    ‘Why didn’t you want to go? What’s wrong with it?’
    ‘Oh, nothing. It’s lovely and much bigger than my cottage, but I hated its eyebrows. You know, those little slitty windows in the thatch. I always felt it was sinister.’
    ‘So who has it now? Are they there for a long time?’
    ‘Why?’ Libby shot another look at her cousin. ‘Not thinking of taking it on yourself are you?’
    ‘No, of course not,’ said Cassandra, looking guilty. ‘Just wondered.’
    ‘Well, the truth is, I don’t know. Now I don’t have to do any of the cleaning between lets I don’t get involved with it. Ben deals with it all at the Manor, in between looking after the tenant farmers and the woodyard. Not that he has much to do. I think he escapes up there to get out of my way. And his mum loves to have him there.’
    ‘That’s Hetty, right?’
    ‘Yes, she’s lovely. I expect you’ll meet her sooner or later. Look here’s the turning for Shott. Where did you say Mike’s nursery is?’
    Mike’s instructions led them round the village green and back up Rogues Lane past the big new house Libby now knew belonged to Vernon Bowling. A turning on the left had a small metal sign pointing to Farthing’s Plants at its side, and Libby turned the 4x4 cautiously into the lane.
    ‘Don’t know how he gets delivery trucks in here,’ she muttered as they bounced over the rutted surface. ‘It’s more like a farm track.’
    ‘Farm tracks have delivery lorries,’ said Cassandra. ‘Think of the animal transporters. Look, here we are.’
    The track finished in a wide sweep of gravel before what had once been a farm building. To their right, huge glasshouses stretched away.
    Cassandra climbed out of the car and strode towards the farm building without waiting for Libby. Her grey hair was, as usual, escaping its moorings, and with her sensible combat trousers she wore equally sensible walking boots. Her duffle coat had definitely seen better days, and Libby smiled fondly. If Cassandra was interested in Mike Farthing as more than a plantsman, as Libby suspected, she certainly wasn’t using any feminine wiles to attract him. She locked the car and followed.
    Before she could catch up, Cassandra was out of the building and pointing to the glasshouses.
    ‘Somewhere in there, apparently,’ she said. ‘But they didn’t know which one.’
    ‘They?’
    ‘Two lads. They were making up parcels. Come on.’
    The first glasshouse was considerably warmer than the outside, and Libby undid her cape, while Cassandra sloughed off the duffle coat. They wandered between rows and rows of plants in