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

You said Martha foiled …’
    ‘It’s still there. But Martha was next to the case and Dominic was some distance away, so it looks as though there may have been a third person.’
    ‘What do we do?’
    ‘Wait for the police to get in touch. We can’t go and do the get-out.’
    ‘Oh.’ Libby digested this. ‘The police will want to talk to us, then?’
    ‘Yes. Sister Catherine has given them my number and yours.’
    ‘Oh, good.’ Libby looked at Ben. ‘Here we go again.’
    ‘I’m going to the theatre to make a start on clearing up the bar,’ said Peter. ‘It’ll keep me busy.’
    ‘Good idea,’ said Libby, swinging her legs out of bed. ‘Give me a chance to have a cup of tea and I’ll follow you up.’
    Three quarters of an hour later, Ben and Libby joined Peter at the theatre. All the glasses from the previous evening’s last-night party were already stacked on the bar, chairs were piled on tables and Peter was manipulating the vacuum cleaner out of its cupboard.
    ‘Sister Catherine called again,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Apparently Martha’s still unconscious, and there’s a police officer by her bed.’
    ‘How ill is she? Did Catherine say?’
    ‘I don’t think she knows. And I don’t suppose the police will tell us. I wonder who’s in charge?’
    ‘It won’t be Ian,’ said Ben. ‘The Abbey isn’t in his jurisdiction.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Libby gloomily. ‘We won’t get any inside information, then.’ She went behind the bar and turned on the tap. ‘Might as well wash up, then.’
    Peter switched on the vacuum cleaner and Ben began to root about for forgotten glasses parked on windowsills and behind pillars.
    The vacuum cleaner was suddenly silent and Libby looked up, startled, as she heard Peter’s voice.
    ‘Can I help you?’
    In the doorway stood two people. A large and uncomfortable-looking man with close-cropped greying hair, and a petite woman with a mane of suspiciously bright blonde hair.
    ‘Oh, lord,’ muttered Libby. ‘Big Bertha.’
    ‘You Peter Parker?’
    ‘Yes? And you are?’
    ‘Superintendent Bertram. This is DI Davies.’
    Peter’s chin lifted. ‘Identification?’
    Big Bertha looked astonished, but scrabbled in her shoulder bag before bringing out her ID. DI Davies beat her to it.
    ‘You knew Dominic Butcher and were instrumental in bringing that antique to St Eldreda’s Abbey. Why?’
    Libby strolled out from behind the bar, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
    ‘Don’t worry, Pete. She always puts people’s backs up.’
    Superintendent Bertram turned a furious gaze on Libby. ‘Oh, for f …’ she began.
    ‘Yes, nice to meet you again, Superintendent. Remember me? Libby Sarjeant with a J?’
    ‘I remember you,’ snarled the smaller woman.
    Peter raised his eyes as Ben, coming through from the auditorium, joined the group.
    ‘The murder at Lewis’s place,’ explained Libby. ‘We met then.’
    ‘Are you involved in this?’ snapped Bertram.
    ‘In the play that was put on at the Abbey? Yes.’
    ‘We all were,’ said Ben. ‘This is our theatre. We put the play on.’
    ‘What do you mean “our theatre”?’
    Libby, Ben and Peter looked at each other in surprise.
    ‘What I said. Our theatre.’ His amusement showed. ‘We own it.’
    Looking a trifle discomfited, Bertram cleared her throat.
    ‘What connection do you have to the Abbey?’ asked DI Davies.
    ‘Only that we put on a play there based on the story of the original St Eldreda,’ said Peter. ‘I’m sure Sister Catherine has already told you that.’
    ‘Why did you ask for that – that thing?’ Big Bertha’s voice was even more like a cheese grater than ever, thought Libby.
    ‘The relic? Because that was how we knew about the story,’ said Libby. ‘Sister Catherine asked me to look into the reliquary –’
    ‘She did what?’
    Libby smiled tranquilly. ‘Yes. It’s all right, DCI Connell from Canterbury knows all about it. In fact, it was him who asked for the