Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) by Lesley Cookman Page B

gimlet eye. ‘Not going to put the village shops out of business. Home-made produce. Get the farmers to provide it. One of ’em keeps bees, don’t he?’
    ‘I did say that might be the answer,’ said Ben grudgingly.
    ‘But you said they’d have to sell it themselves or through the eight-til-late,’ said Libby. ‘I bet Het could work out something better than that.’
    Looking pleased, Hetty simply grunted and got up to fetch the rib of beef that had been resting on top of the Aga.
    ‘I think I’d put my money on Lib and Hetty together,’ said Harry. ‘We could even sell some stuff in the caff.’
    ‘We’ve got a local vineyard, haven’t we?’ said Peter. ‘Could we sell their wines, too?’
    ‘Hey, wait a bit,’ said Ben, holding up a hand. ‘I haven’t said yes, yet. And I’d have to look into all the legal side first.’
    ‘Oh, the boring bit,’ said Harry. ‘OK, change the subject. Who do you reckon asked those solicitors to lend old St Edie’s finger?’
    ‘No idea.’ Peter shook his head. ‘There aren’t many people who know about it, after all.’
    ‘All of us and the cast of the play,’ said Libby, ‘Fran and Guy, Patti and Anne, the nuns and – I say – do the nuns have servants?’
    ‘They have oblates, or alongsiders, women who live and work with them, some for a short period, some for longer,’ said Peter. ‘I met a couple of them when I went to meet Sister Catherine.’
    ‘So there’s them, too,’ said Libby. ‘Do they live in or out?’
    ‘In. And there are occasionally guests who are on retreat. They have guest accommodation.’ Peter fetched a dish of roast potatoes and carrots to the table.
    ‘Most of those are mine,’ said Harry. ‘To make up for the meat.’ He cackled and drew the dish towards him.
    ‘There’s more,’ said Hetty.
    The subject of the reliquary was abandoned until after the beef had been finished and the treacle sponge demolished.
    ‘Pouff,’ said Libby, leaning back in her chair. ‘The Maidenhaye Arms couldn’t hold a candle to that.’
    Hetty looked pleased, but said nothing.
    ‘Speaking of Maidenhaye,’ said Ben, ‘you ought to let Ian know what happened, Lib. After all, he wasn’t altogether pleased about us going down there.’
    ‘It can wait until tomorrow,’ said Libby. ‘If Ian’s got a Sunday off he won’t appreciate a call from me.’
    But on Monday morning it was Ian who called Libby.
    ‘I’ve just been speaking to Alastair Beaumont. He tells me he’d like to buy the reliquary.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Libby, surprised. ‘He told us, too. I was going to ring you to report.’
    ‘Of course you were.’ Libby could almost hear him grinning. ‘Anyway, it appears that there’s no knowing when or from where those documents were stolen. I described them to Mr Beaumont and he confirms that they sound genuine, but he doesn’t have a clue where they might have come from, except that to him they sound later than the document of sale he showed you.’
    ‘Dear old Bartholomew Tollybar? Really?’ Libby frowned.
    ‘Which argues that, if our provenance documents are genuine, the reliquary must have been back in the possession of the Beaumonts after Tollybar bought it.’
    ‘Suggesting that yet another renegade member of the family pinched it back?’
    ‘Another?’
    Libby explained about the previous thefts of the reliquary.
    ‘It forms a pattern,’ said Ian. ‘For some reason, some members of the family think the reliquary should always be in their possession, and others use it for personal gain.’
    Libby tried to think this through. ‘I think I understand,’ she said. ‘So what you’re saying is Bernard Evans was left the thing by a family member and it was pinched by another one. Bit convoluted, isn’t it?’
    ‘I’m not sure about who left it to Evans. I think that was probably someone who’d bought it from a family member, and someone else wanted it back.’
    ‘I’ve got a picture of all these little Beaumont