Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) by Lesley Cookman Page A
Authors: Lesley Cookman
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bit repressed.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Peter. ‘I don’t think they allow rowdy parties here.’
‘You don’t do rowdy parties,’ said Libby, tucking one arm through his and the other through Ben’s. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the pub and have a drink.’
The following morning they returned to Maidenhaye itself to say goodbye to Alastair and Jennifer.
‘You will let us know about any developments?’ said Alastair. ‘And remember, if it really is for sale, we’d certainly be interested to buy it.’
Ben and Peter browsed the estate shop and bought various treats, while Libby tasted a couple of the estate wines.
‘We could do something at the Manor,’ she said as they finally pulled out of the car park to start the journey home. ‘I know we supply some of the meat for the butcher’s shop and there’s Nella and Joe at Cattlegreen, but maybe cheeses and marmalades and things.’
‘Are you offering?’ asked Ben, grinning at her in the rear-view mirror.
‘Not exactly,’ said Libby, ‘but what about a farmer’s market sort of set up? Then Bob the Butcher and Nella and Joe could sell stuff.’
‘Where, though? They both have shops in the village already, as you said yesterday. And personally, I wouldn’t like to have to go into retail at this time of life. If we were to start making anything at the Manor or on the farms, I’d rather they sold it themselves or through the eight-til-late.’
‘You’ve changed your mind,’ said Libby, settling back in her corner. ‘It just looked nice there.’
‘It did look nice, but don’t forget there aren’t any other shops in that village. We’ve got several. We’re lucky.’
It was when they were on the home stretch of the journey, having circumnavigated Canterbury, that Libby’s phone began to ring.
‘Libby, it’s Patti.’
‘Patti? It’s Sunday. Why aren’t you ministering?’
‘I’m going to one of the other churches for evensong in a minute, but listen. You’ll never guess what!’
‘What?’
‘They’ve offered to let St Eldreda’s display the reliquary while the play’s on!’
Chapter Eight
‘ H ow did that happen?’ asked Peter, when Libby relayed Patti’s conversation.
‘I’m not sure. Sister Catherine wasn’t either, apparently. She said the solicitor for the estate rang to say he’d received a request from someone. It wasn’t you, was it?’
‘Libby! Of course it wasn’t. I wouldn’t know who the solicitor was.’
‘Well, the nuns don’t know, but whoever sent the request did them and us a favour. The nuns are delighted, even though they wouldn’t like to keep it. We are to keep it to ourselves, though, until nearer the first night.’
‘Security risk,’ said Ben. ‘It must be worth a small fortune.’
‘I wonder,’ said Libby slowly, staring out of the window at the familiar road ahead.
‘What?’
‘I wonder if Ian’s done it.’
‘Ian?’ Peter’s head whipped round. ‘Why on earth would he do it?’
‘To see if someone else takes a shot at it.’
‘So someone else can get murdered?’
‘Well, it might bring someone out of the woodwork, mightn’t it?’
‘Whoever killed Bernard Evans in the seventies isn’t likely to still be around,’ said Ben.
‘Why not? We were all around then and we still are.’
‘Yes, but he’d be likely to be older than we are, so a fairly geriatric murderer.’
‘Oh, that’s true,’ said Libby. ‘Still, it’s a thought.’
It being Sunday, Hetty had cooked her usual roast, but re-scheduled it for seven o’clock. As Harry was shut on a Sunday evening, he joined them, and they all relaxed round the large kitchen table with glasses of one of Hetty’s fine wines.
‘So that’s where we are now,’ Libby concluded, having brought Harry and Hetty up to date with the events of the past few days.
‘Estate shop sounds good,’ commented Hetty.
‘That’s what I said! But Ben says no,’ said Libby.
Hetty fixed her son with a
‘I know what you mean,’ said Peter. ‘I don’t think they allow rowdy parties here.’
‘You don’t do rowdy parties,’ said Libby, tucking one arm through his and the other through Ben’s. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the pub and have a drink.’
The following morning they returned to Maidenhaye itself to say goodbye to Alastair and Jennifer.
‘You will let us know about any developments?’ said Alastair. ‘And remember, if it really is for sale, we’d certainly be interested to buy it.’
Ben and Peter browsed the estate shop and bought various treats, while Libby tasted a couple of the estate wines.
‘We could do something at the Manor,’ she said as they finally pulled out of the car park to start the journey home. ‘I know we supply some of the meat for the butcher’s shop and there’s Nella and Joe at Cattlegreen, but maybe cheeses and marmalades and things.’
‘Are you offering?’ asked Ben, grinning at her in the rear-view mirror.
‘Not exactly,’ said Libby, ‘but what about a farmer’s market sort of set up? Then Bob the Butcher and Nella and Joe could sell stuff.’
‘Where, though? They both have shops in the village already, as you said yesterday. And personally, I wouldn’t like to have to go into retail at this time of life. If we were to start making anything at the Manor or on the farms, I’d rather they sold it themselves or through the eight-til-late.’
‘You’ve changed your mind,’ said Libby, settling back in her corner. ‘It just looked nice there.’
‘It did look nice, but don’t forget there aren’t any other shops in that village. We’ve got several. We’re lucky.’
It was when they were on the home stretch of the journey, having circumnavigated Canterbury, that Libby’s phone began to ring.
‘Libby, it’s Patti.’
‘Patti? It’s Sunday. Why aren’t you ministering?’
‘I’m going to one of the other churches for evensong in a minute, but listen. You’ll never guess what!’
‘What?’
‘They’ve offered to let St Eldreda’s display the reliquary while the play’s on!’
Chapter Eight
‘ H ow did that happen?’ asked Peter, when Libby relayed Patti’s conversation.
‘I’m not sure. Sister Catherine wasn’t either, apparently. She said the solicitor for the estate rang to say he’d received a request from someone. It wasn’t you, was it?’
‘Libby! Of course it wasn’t. I wouldn’t know who the solicitor was.’
‘Well, the nuns don’t know, but whoever sent the request did them and us a favour. The nuns are delighted, even though they wouldn’t like to keep it. We are to keep it to ourselves, though, until nearer the first night.’
‘Security risk,’ said Ben. ‘It must be worth a small fortune.’
‘I wonder,’ said Libby slowly, staring out of the window at the familiar road ahead.
‘What?’
‘I wonder if Ian’s done it.’
‘Ian?’ Peter’s head whipped round. ‘Why on earth would he do it?’
‘To see if someone else takes a shot at it.’
‘So someone else can get murdered?’
‘Well, it might bring someone out of the woodwork, mightn’t it?’
‘Whoever killed Bernard Evans in the seventies isn’t likely to still be around,’ said Ben.
‘Why not? We were all around then and we still are.’
‘Yes, but he’d be likely to be older than we are, so a fairly geriatric murderer.’
‘Oh, that’s true,’ said Libby. ‘Still, it’s a thought.’
It being Sunday, Hetty had cooked her usual roast, but re-scheduled it for seven o’clock. As Harry was shut on a Sunday evening, he joined them, and they all relaxed round the large kitchen table with glasses of one of Hetty’s fine wines.
‘So that’s where we are now,’ Libby concluded, having brought Harry and Hetty up to date with the events of the past few days.
‘Estate shop sounds good,’ commented Hetty.
‘That’s what I said! But Ben says no,’ said Libby.
Hetty fixed her son with a
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