‘No,’ agreed Libby reluctantly, ‘but now I’m seething with curiosity.’
Ben sighed. ‘End of quiet evening, then.’
‘Oh, sorry, Ben.’ Libby turned to him, put down her glass and wound her arms round his neck. ‘I shall stop seething and start soothing.’
‘So I should think,’ said Ben.
The following morning he had to prevent Libby from calling Fran almost the minute she woke up.
‘Wait until I’ve gone up to the Manor,’ he said. ‘That’ll be a more respectable hour. And you could wait until Guy’s gone off to open the shop, too.’
‘That’s not until ten!’ wailed Libby. ‘I can’t wait that long.’
Ben laughed and ruffled her hair. ‘Well, at least wait until I’ve gone. And stop trying to shoo me out the door!’
At last, after shutting the door on him at ten past nine, Libby was free to make her phone call, which maddeningly, wasn’t answered. She then tried Fran’s mobile, which also went to voice mail. Beginning to get worried, she rang the number of the shop.
‘Sophie? I can’t raise Guy or Fran. Do you know where they are?’
‘Yes, Libby, I’m here,’ said Guy’s voice. ‘I’ve started opening at nine thirty during the summer. Did you try Fran’s mobile?’
‘Yes.’
‘She’ll have it switched off then while she’s driving.’
‘Oh, where to?’ said Libby. ‘She wanted to talk to me this morning.’
‘Exactly,’ said Guy. ‘She’s on her way to you.’
Libby leapt upstairs, had the quickest shower ever and threw on some clothes. She’d just thrust her feet into sandals when she heard the front door.
‘What is it? What’s so urgent?’ She opened the door and stood back for Fran.
‘All right, all right, let me get inside.’ Fran went straight into the kitchen.
‘Tea?’
‘Yes, please.’ Fran sat down at the table. ‘You obviously got my message?’
‘I did. Ben and I got back from the Golden Spice too late to ring you, so I rang this morning. Guy said you were on your way here.’
‘Ian called yesterday.’
‘You said it was a rather surprising message.’
‘It was – and it wasn’t.’ Fran grinned at Libby’s cross expression. ‘It’s all right, I’ll explain.’
Libby pushed a mug across the table and sat down on the opposite side. ‘You’d better.’
‘Ian had someone look into the ownership of White Lodge.’
‘Yes, we knew that.’
‘And it was left to Rosie’s mother.’
‘
‘Apparently, it’s never been transferred into Rosie’s name, so it looks as though we were right and she doesn’t know.’
‘So he’s going to tell her?’
‘Today, apparently. There’s another thing, though. Someone leased the property through Riley’s, only it was Riley and Naughton in those days.’
‘Riley’s? Who are handling it now?’ Libby frowned. ‘And what happened to the tenant?’
‘Left after six months. After which it was just – left.’
‘How did Ian find that out? Through Riley’s?’
‘No, the solicitor who drew up Findon’s will. Not the man himself, but his firm, they drew up the lease because Rosie’s mum wanted nothing to do with it.’
‘And she just ignored it for the rest of her life? And told Rosie nothing?’
‘Looks like it. But there must have been a reason.’
‘The same reason that Rosie can’t remember any of it now. Must have been a trauma.’ Libby stood up and went to the window. ‘What does Ian think now?’
‘He’s wondering how Findon died.’
Libby turned back. ‘That occurred to me, too.’
Fran put her head on one side. ‘Did it, now? And were you thinking perhaps that was the cause of the trauma?’
Libby looked at her friend suspiciously. ‘Yes, why?’
‘Because it’s almost too obvious to be true.’
‘Well, that doesn’t make it less true. It fits.’
Fran nodded. ‘Too neatly, perhaps?’
‘Does it matter? Ian will look into it and find out the truth, even if Rosie doesn’t remember it. Although what it’s got to do with what’s happening now, I don’t know.’
‘If Findon’s death wasn’t an accident, there was a reason for his death. Perhaps that’s why people are being scared off the site?’
‘What after all this time?’ Libby snorted with disbelief. ‘No, it strikes me it was particularly to scare off Rosie.’
‘So that she doesn’t stake her claim?’
‘Makes sense, doesn’t it? Mind you, I can’t see how the deeds have remained in her mother’s name. I would have thought there would be some kind of automatic notification to the records office.’
‘Considering that official bodies send communications and bills to dead people for years, I don’t know why you would think that,’ said Fran.
‘True.’ Libby sat down again. ‘So what now?’
‘I don’t think there’s anything we can do. But I did remember something. When we first looked up the estate agents’ details it said there was a barn, didn’t it?’
‘So it did! I’d forgotten that.’ Libby got up and went to fetch the laptop. ‘Hope they haven’t taken it down.’ She clicked through a few links. ‘Yes, here we are – seven bedrooms, cellar, walled garden, barn. I wonder why they’ve left it here?’
‘It isn’t the agents’ own site, is it?’ Fran pulled the laptop towards her. ‘Simply a link from a property site. But cellar. We haven’t seen that.’
‘And I don’t particularly want to,’ said Libby with a shudder. ‘I’m not a fan of cellars.’
‘That could be where the music’s playing from.’
‘I expect Ian’s found it now, anyway,’ said Libby.
‘I expect he has. He didn’t say much at all in his message.’
‘But you came dashing over here to tell me.’ Libby rested her chin on her hands. ‘Come on, you’re brewing something. What is it?’
‘There’s a local Records office at Dover. I bet that’s where the documents about White Lodge are.’
‘Dover? When we’ve been haring off to Maidstone?’
‘We haven’t, Andrew has. But it’s Dover where most of the stuff is. I can’t think why there wasn’t some kind of link to it when we were looking before.’
‘Can we go and look?’
‘It’s only open Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, but I think we can go. It’s in the Dover library.’
‘It’s Thursday today,’ said Libby standing up again. ‘What are we waiting for?’
‘I thought you’d say that.’ Fran stood up. ‘That’s why I came here, it saves time.’
‘Why didn’t you say straight away? Honestly!’ Libby locked the back door into the conservatory and went to find her basket.
Chapter Nineteen
