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

tonight.’
    ‘The reliquary?’ said Peter, as they all stopped dead. ‘He’s here, then?’
    ‘I don’t know. I suppose he must be on his way. Sister Catherine had a phone call.’
    ‘But that might not be genuine,’ said Libby. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! It will take hours to dismantle the lasers and the case – and you can’t just let someone walk off with it on the say-so of a phone call.’
    ‘No, that’s what we all thought. Sister Catherine said the security company are contracted to deliver it back to the antiquarian auction place, and they won’t allow it out of their sight.’ She sighed. ‘So it will be here until tomorrow morning. What I can’t understand, if that phone call was genuine, is why? This person volunteered to loan the relic, and even paid for the security company – why go against that?’
    ‘That’s what makes it seem phoney,’ said Ben. ‘I think you’re wise to keep it here.’
    ‘Yes,’ Martha turned a wistful face towards the atrium. ‘I shall miss it.’
    The usual end-of-term feeling pervaded the cast as they changed and got ready for the last performance of Murder in the Monastery.
    ‘The last ever, probably,’ said Bob, adjusting his tonsure-wig. ‘Shame.’
    ‘Couldn’t Peter ask the beneficiary of the estate to lend it for another performance next year?’ asked Dominic.
    ‘It will have a new owner by then,’ said Fran.
    ‘Well, why not ask them. It might be those people you went to see, Libby.’
    ‘And it might not. No, I think this is the last we’ll see of it, Dominic,’ said Libby. ‘And it’ll be gone by the morning.’
    At the end of a triumphant last performance, Peter produced more champagne and an invitation back to the theatre bar. ‘And we need a work party for tomorrow, don’t forget,’ he warned.
    Libby went to find Martha, who was locking the atrium for the last time.
    ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, ‘but I expect this will be gone by then.’
    ‘I expect so,’ said Martha. ‘I’m handing over my keys very early.’
    ‘You look sad,’ said Libby.
    Martha smiled. ‘I know. I am. I’ve so enjoyed this week – and the weeks leading up to it. When this goes it will seem like the end of something lovely.’
    Impulsively, Libby leant forward and kissed her cheek. ‘You’ve been great,’ she said. ‘If they ever let you out you must come to Steeple Martin and see us all.’
    This time Martha laughed. ‘Oh, they let me out, all right. And perhaps I will.’ She made shooing motions. ‘Go on, they’ll be waiting for you.’
    ‘I’m going,’ said Libby. ‘Bye Martha.’ She waved at the dark atrium. ‘Bye St Eldreda.’
    But in the morning, when the security guard arrived, St Eldreda was still there, which was what he expected. What he didn’t expect was to find Martha spread-eagled on the floor in front of it, and outside, lying in the shadow of the great stone arches, a body in a monk’s habit, its skull smashed like a crushed snail shell.

Chapter Ten
    P eter called Libby early on Sunday morning.
    ‘Pete? It’s only half past six!’ Libby unglued her eyes to peer at the clock.
    ‘Lib, listen, this is serious.’ Libby could hear the shake in Peter’s voice. ‘Dominic’s dead.’
    ‘Dom?’ Libby’s voice rose to a shriek.
    ‘Not your Dom.’
    Libby’s heart rate slowed. ‘You mean Dominic Butcher?’
    ‘Yes. At the Abbey.’
    ‘Oh, God.’ Libby closed her eyes. ‘Where? What happened?’
    ‘All I can tell you is what Sister Catherine told me. The security guard found Martha next to the reliquary case and Dominic dead in the ruins.’
    ‘Martha? She’s not –?’
    ‘No, but she’s in hospital. Critical, Sister Catherine thinks. It looks as though she foiled a burglary attempt.’
    ‘By Dominic?’ Libby was frowning. Ben was sitting up and trying to listen.
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Peter helplessly. ‘He was wearing his costume.’
    ‘The habit?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And the reliquary?