She told him. ‘And now I’m really worried.’
‘Call Fran and Andrew. And don’t go galloping off on your own, either. Ian’s on to it. He’ll do his best.’
But before Libby could call anyone, the phone rang again.
‘Libby, it’s Andrew. I don’t suppose you know where Rosie is, do you? Only I’ve been trying to ring her since yesterday afternoon, and I just went over there and her car was gone.’
With the feeling that the day was going to get much worse very soon, Libby told him, leaving out any reference to the possible seduction of Colonel Weston.
‘So Inspector Connell is trying to find her, too, so we can leave it to him,’ she concluded.
‘I think this is all my fault.’ Andrew sounded miserable.
‘How can it be your fault? For goodness’ sake, Andrew, haven’t you seen through Rosie yet? She’s a thoroughly manipulative woman with an agenda that no one knows.’
Andrew sighed. ‘I know she appears like that, but, believe me, she was very shocked when we found out about Paul Findon, and even more so about the legacy.’
‘How do you know about that?’ asked Libby sharply. ‘You weren’t there, and she had apparently cut all ties with you at that point.’
‘It was temporary. She called me later that night.’
Libby gasped. ‘You see? She’s been leading everyone to believe you were completely out of the picture. She told Fran and me that she’d made a fool of herself with you.’
‘Did she.’ Andrew’s voice was now grim. ‘I wonder why?’
‘I assumed,’ said Libby boldly, ‘that she’d gone to bed with you and regretted it.’
‘Oh, she went to bed with me, all right. But we’d both got rather drunk, all in the name of ameliorating Rosie’s shock, and she was quite mortified at both the drunkenness and the – well – intimacy.’ He sighed again. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this.’
‘So she obviously got over that?’ said Libby, ignoring this last statement.
‘She did. Even suggested that we should try again because…’
‘She couldn’t actually remember it?’ suggested Libby.
‘Yes. And we did. Have.’
‘Right.’ Libby thought for a moment. ‘And have you at any time got the impression that she would try and find out any more about what was going on at either the barn or the house itself? I mean, on her own.’
‘Yes. I thought she was going to ask you and Fran to help her.’
‘She did, I told you. But she was perfectly prepared to go to Cherry Ashton on her own, and both Fran and I thought she was quite likely to barge in where angels and all that, and could conceivably get into trouble.’ She sighed. ‘And now it appears that she has. What about Tybalt?’
‘Eh?’ Andrew sounded startled by the sudden change of topic.
‘Tybalt. The cat.’
‘Oh, Talbot. Of course, he won’t have been fed. What should we do?’
‘We?’ said Libby.
‘Well, I don’t know what one does about cats. Should we phone the RSPCA?’
‘I suppose we could,’ said Libby doubtfully. ‘And
‘I believe so.’
‘Then he can get in and out. That’s a relief. And if he’s really starving he’ll start catching food. Or you could go and put a bowl of food down near the cat flap.’
‘Me?’
‘You’re the one in a relationship with her,’ said Libby, suddenly irritated with the whole situation.
‘I thought you were her friend.’
‘I only met her a day or so before you did. And I’m not sure I want to be a friend now. I feel a bit used and abused. Although that isn’t poor Talbot’s fault.’
‘I suppose I could go and put some food down for him,’ said Andrew doubtfully. ‘What sort?’
‘Dried cat crunchies, then it won’t go off if the weather suddenly turns warm again,’ said Libby, glancing out at the drizzle.
‘All right. And will you let me know if you hear anything?’
‘I will. And the same goes if you hear.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’
After Andrew had rung off, Libby sat and thought. It was apparent that something had happened, but quite what was unfathomable. Had Hugh Weston bumped Rosie off because he had something to do with the bodies in the barn? And if so, why? Murdering the owner of the property wouldn’t stop the police investigation. Anyway, how could Weston have anything to do with honour killings, if that’s what they were? Much easier to believe that smooth Mr Vindari had something to do with it. Which was far too convenient. She sighed and punched Fran’s number into the phone.
Fran was worried. ‘Something’s happened to her. I think she’s been pursuing her own agenda all the time.’
‘But she honestly didn’t know about Findon or the legacy,’ said Libby. ‘I really believe that.’
‘So do I, but it’s since she found out about it she’s become so strange.’
‘And flighty,’ said Libby. ‘Do you really think she was out to seduce Hugh Weston? After all that romping in the sack with Andrew?’
‘But again, why?’ Fran was silent for a moment. ‘Do you think we should go over and ask Weston?’
‘I knew you were going to say that,’ said Libby. ‘Ben told me not to go haring off on my own, that Ian would deal with it, but I can’t help feeling that we should try on our own.’
‘As long as he doesn’t think we’re chasing him,’ said Fran.
‘Who, Ian?’
‘No, stupid, Weston. Why should he? We’re just concerned about our friend.
‘Huh,’ said Libby. ‘Friend. She’s caused me more trouble than any real friend has in years.’
‘Shall I meet you at the pub again?’ Fran sounded as though she was already halfway out the door.
‘No, I couldn’t bear that. Let’s meet at The Red Lion. George will let me leave my car in his car park.’
‘OK. Twenty minutes?’
‘I’ll try.’
It was, in fact, nearly half an hour before Libby drew in to the car park of the Red Lion. The doors weren’t open yet, so Fran was still sitting in her car.
‘Off we go again,’ said Libby, climbing in beside her.
‘What do you think about Andrew’s confession that they’ve been having rampant sex?’ she asked a few moments later as they set off for Cherry Ashton.
‘What do you mean? Don’t you believe him?’
‘He seemed to be telling the truth.’
‘But you’re not sure? It is odd for a man to boast about it to a woman, I suppose.’
‘I thought blokes did that all the time? Or perhaps they don’t in these enlightened times?’ said Libby. ‘I’m out of touch.’
‘True or not, he knew about the legacy, so someone told him, and if not Rosie, who?’
‘Oh, don’t start suspecting Andrew of anything,’ said Libby. ‘He only came into the picture after we suggested an expert.’
‘I seem to remember you thinking he might be part of a plot at one time.’
‘Yes, yes, all right.’ Libby looked out of the window. ‘It’s raining again.’
‘Do we park in the pub car park again?’ asked Fran as they approached the crossroads.
‘Couldn’t we park in front of Ashton Court?’ said Libby. ‘It’s him we’ve come to see, after all, and he won’t be at the pub yet. It’s only just about opening time.’
‘It’ll advertise our presence, but yes, I suppose so.’
‘So would parking in the pub car park,’ said Libby.
Fran drove slowly under the arch and came to a halt behind a large Land Rover.
‘Here goes,’ said Libby, and climbed out.
