Murder Out of Tune - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery by Lesley Cookman

various stages of development, until they came across a small, elderly lady who pointed them in the direction of the next glasshouse, where Cassandra’s superior height gave her the ability to spot Mike at the far end. At the same time he saw them, and waved. They met somewhere in the middle, and Libby was pleased to see the obvious delight he and Cassandra had in meeting for a second time.
    ‘Let’s go into the shed and have some coffee,’ he said. ‘No one will disturb us there. It’s a bit like an allotment shed.’
    He led the way out of the glasshouse across a muddy yard and into a shed of considerable antiquity. Inside, it was, as he’d said, very like an allotment shed. A deckchair and two stools, a kettle, mugs, and various books made it the ultimate retreat, Libby thought, remembering her grandfather’s allotment, where she had been taken as a special treat every now and then.
    ‘Now,’ he said, as he spooned instant coffee into mugs. ‘What did you want to ask me, Libby?’

Chapter Eight
    Libby squirmed. ‘Um – well – we – er – Cass wanted to see …’
    ‘Yes, I know that.’ Mike grinned at Cassandra and handed her a mug. ‘But we’re actually talking about Vernon Bowling’s murder, aren’t we?’
    Libby sighed. ‘All right, I admit it. But Ian’s policemen only skim the surface and all they would have asked was if you knew him well, did he have any enemies – that sort of thing.’
    ‘Who’s Ian?’ asked Mike.
    Libby explained. ‘So it’s good to get a more – er –  in-depth idea from someone who actually knew him. And if you know anyone else in the group.’
    Mike frowned, his weather-beaten face crinkling like an old apple. ‘Well, I suppose I know Ron. He lives in the other house.’
    ‘The other house?’ said Cassandra.
    ‘At Bishop’s Bottom – same builder did his and Vernon’s.’
    ‘Oh, Fran and I saw it on the way to Heronsbourne,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder why Sid didn’t tell us that? Or that Vernon Bowling lived in what he called “the big house”.’
    ‘Protecting them, I expect. After all, you turn up a couple of days after Vernon’s murder …’
    ‘He didn’t say anything about Vernon,’ said Libby, ‘he was protecting Ron Stewart. I suppose he gets a lot of people asking about him.’
    ‘Some,’ agreed Mike, ‘but not many people except the locals know he lives here. The occasional manic Jonah Fludde fan, of course.’
    ‘So did he and Vernon know each other well? They shared the same builder, after all,’ said Libby.
    ‘I thought it was just coincidence,’ said Mike, ‘but yes, they knew each other. Used to share lifts to the uke group, but I don’t know anything else. I did some of Ron’s garden, too.’
    ‘What’s he like?’ asked Cassandra.
    ‘Ron? All right, I suppose. Quiet, likes to look the part.’
    ‘That’s what Patti said. Ripped jeans, leather jacket, big boots.’
    Mike grinned. ‘That’s it, but I think it’s a bit of a pose. He plays classical music when he’s at home.’
    ‘Has he got a studio at the house?’ said Libby.
    ‘Oh, yes. The attic – well, where an attic would be – the whole of the roof space. I believe he makes all the Fludde albums there.’
    ‘Goodness, are they still recording?’ asked Cassandra. ‘They’re a bunch of old hippies, aren’t they?’
    ‘Fran tells me they still perform at festivals and things,’ said Libby. ‘So I suppose there’s still a market for new records.’
    ‘They’re not records anymore, Lib,’ her cousin informed her.
    ‘I know, I know. Anyway, so he and Vernon knew each other. Before they came here presumably.’
    ‘I don’t know about that,’ said Mike.
    ‘Well, they’ve got the same houses, built by the same builder …’
    ‘But the builder might have built them on spec,’ said Cassandra.
    ‘No, Vernon’s was commissioned,’ said Mike.
    ‘So did the builder just use the same plans to build a replica just down