Murder by the Barrel: A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Book 18 by Lesley Cookman

Author:Lesley Cookman [Cookman, Lesley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Accent Press
Published: 2017-10-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

‘Strangely enough,’ said Ian, after serving drinks and finding a packet of crisps at the back of one of Hetty’s cupboards, ‘we’d come to the same conclusion that you had. We knew that there was a question mark over Clive Eddington, and one of the bright boys in Canterbury remembered the Fulmore twins case.

‘We haven’t actually had it confirmed yet, because the hoops we have to go through with the UKPPS are many and complicated. We have to speak with his handler, but as it looks as though that’s going to happen, I think we can safely assume that Clive Eddington was Wayne Fulmore.’

‘It’s a horrible story,’ said Libby. ‘Was witchcraft really involved?’

‘As far as we can tell from the files it was a group who were using so-called witchcraft as a cover for other activities.’

‘Nothing new there then,’ muttered Ben.

‘No, except that this lot included paedophilia in their unsavoury activities.’

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ said Libby.

Ian nodded. ‘Indeed. And it at least had the effect of disbanding the coven, or whatever it called itself, and actually got some of them put away.’

‘So was the Sigil you found on Clive’s body supposed to draw attention to that?’ asked Ben.

‘It looks like it,’ said Ian.

‘But what about Danny?’ said Libby. ‘If he recognised Clive from schooldays, why was he killed after Clive was murdered?’

‘No idea yet, but there’s obviously a link of some sort. And, of course, I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.’

‘But we found it out ourselves. Not even by digging,’ protested Libby.

‘I know. Which is why I am telling you. And because there’s every chance that, through your local contacts you might pick up more.’

‘Is it the same murderer?’ asked Ben.

‘At the moment we’re assuming so,’ said Ian. ‘Now we’ve more or less established the link between them, it would be very odd if it wasn’t.’

‘So,’ said Libby, frowning into the remains of her whisky, ‘someone who recognised Clive, and recognised someone who knew Clive.’

‘And thought they would also recognise them. You see – it does make a convoluted sort of sense.’

‘But who –’ began Libby, then stopped and shook her head.

‘We don’t know. Once we’re allowed to talk to the UKPPS we can find out more about his background.’

‘Well, if you work on the assumption that he was Wayne Fulmore you can check his parents, can’t you?’ said Ben.

‘We can look them up, yes, but we’d get a severe rap on the knuckles if we went any further.’ Ian waved the whisky bottle at them. ‘In any case, close relatives are frequently given new identities themselves.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Libby. ‘You really wouldn’t want the world and its wife staring at you for the rest of your life, would you?’

‘No. If they aren’t given an official new identity, they will often invent one for themselves. It’s easy enough, after all.’

Libby sat back in her chair and raised her glass. ‘Well, thanks, Ian. Now I shall be wondering about every single person I meet.’

Ian grinned. ‘There are one or two oddities, here, though.

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