Murder in the Dark - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery Series) by Lesley Cookman Page B

the coffee chains, was warm and dim. The coffee was excellent, served by the owner and his wife, who scorned the pretentious title of “Barista”.
    ‘So, Mr Watson,’ said Libby, when they’d ordered. ‘What did you want to talk to us about?’
    ‘Please call me Julian,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I alarmed you.’
    ‘You didn’t,’ said Fran cheerfully. ‘You didn’t want your mother to know you wanted to talk to us, did you?’
    ‘No.’ Colour was seeping up his neck from under his tight, white collar. ‘I know that sounds mad, but …’
    ‘What is it you want to know?’ asked Libby, as their glass mugs in beautiful chrome holders were set before them.
    ‘She said you’d been helping her since they found that woman’s body. Are you private detectives?’
    ‘No,’ they said together.
    He frowned. ‘But you’ve been investigating?’
    Fran sighed and Libby made a face.
    ‘What happened was, we had a little local murder where I live and Mrs Wolfe here had a couple of psychic insights as to what was happening. It happened on another case and after that local people got to know and ask for advice, and sometimes, as in this case, the police themselves ask.’
    ‘Psychic?’ Julian’s face registered scorn and disbelief. ‘The police?’
    Libby shrugged. ‘Fine, if you don’t believe me. No skin off our noses.’
    Fran fixed him with a look. ‘I’m sure your mother made you aware that we had connections with the police.’
    Julian looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, yes, she did. But I don’t know how much of what she says to believe. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.’
    ‘OK,’ said Libby. ‘What do you know so far?’
    ‘The first I knew about anything was when a couple of constables came to my flat to ask if I knew who this dead body was.’
    ‘Ramani Oxenford?’ said Fran.
    ‘I guess so. I was questioned twice, and Henry says he was, too.’
    ‘Henry’s your brother?’
    ‘Yes. He’s at uni in Leeds. I called Mum a few times after that during last week.’
    ‘Not your father?’
    ‘No. The next thing I knew was the police coming to tell me my father was dead.’
    ‘We’re very sorry,’ said Libby.
    Julian shook his head. ‘I’m not. He was a bastard. I’m afraid Henry and I have both become suspects because it’s obvious we hated him. He was foul to Mum, always having affairs. There must be hundreds of people who hated him.’
    ‘Enough to kill him?’ asked Fran.
    ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what makes people kill.’
    ‘And do you know anything about this supposed treasure?’ asked Libby.
    ‘No.’ Julian now looked intrigued. ‘Mum was trying to explain but I couldn’t quite get it. There’s something about this black man, as well.’
    Libby held her tongue with difficulty, while Fran said peaceably ‘Yes. Professor Edward Hall. He’s a historian with a particular interest in the civil wars.’
    ‘Oh? What has that got to do with us?’
    ‘The date of your house? 1643?’ said Libby.
    ‘What about it?’ said Julian, looking puzzled.
    ‘That’s in the middle of our civil wars,’ explained Fran. ‘We believe, from what your father told Mrs Oxenford, that something was hidden in your house at that time.’
    ‘Treasure?’ Julian’s face lightened.
    ‘It could be, but it may have been willed to someone, in which case it would pass to their descendants.’ Libby watched as his face fell.
    ‘I don’t believe it anyway. He would have said anything to impress a woman he was trying to sh– get into bed with.’
    ‘We did rather wonder about that,’ said Libby. ‘We’ve found nothing, so far, but Professor Hall and a buildings expert are going to do a thorough search of the house within the next couple of days.’
    Julian looked interested. ‘Could I help?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘It’s been ordered by the police, and they may not want the family there.’
    ‘Oh. No, of course not.’ Julian shifted in his seat and played with