Free Murder in Steeple Martin by Lesley Cookman

search for Bide-a-Wee”.’
    ‘I didn’t realise. Are you happy there?’
    Libby thought. ‘It took some getting used to after a four-bedroomed Edwardian terrace, but yes, I’m happy.’
    ‘Even with all the bother at the theatre?’
    ‘Oh, I’ve got that under control now. It was only one incident, wasn’t it? And, you know, it couldn’t have been Aunt Millie who cut the wire. Could it? I mean, how would she have got in?’
    ‘Oh, she could have got hold of the keys from The Manor. They hang in the old pantry along with all the others.’
    ‘So anybody could get them?’ Libby looked up from the menu she was studying, startled.
    ‘If they knew where to look, certainly. My mother never locks all the doors during the daytime.’
    ‘You haven’t told anyone else that it was deliberately cut, have you?’
    ‘No. You didn’t want me to, did you?’ Ben frowned at her.
    ‘Certainly not. No need for everybody to worry.’
    ‘And no need for you to worry – not this evening, anyway. Let’s talk about something else.’
    Somehow, Libby didn’t quite know how, they did talk about something else. Several things, in fact. To her surprise, she realised when they got up to leave that they hadn’t stopped talking once and had managed to steer completely clear of the play and all its ramifications.
    Libby fell silent as they approached the village and discovered, as Ben switched off the engine outside the cottage, that every muscle in her body was tense.
    ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’
    ‘Thank you for being a charming guest.’
    ‘Would you like to come in for coffee –’ damn. She hadn’t meant to say that – ‘or do you have to get back?’
    ‘Now what would I have to get back for? My mother doesn’t wait up any more, you know. And I don’t have to get up in the morning.’
    ‘Sorry.’
    ‘There you go again. Apologising. I’d love coffee, thank you.’
    Libby led the way into the cottage, forgetting to warn him about the step, which meant that he cannoned into her from behind.
    ‘Is that meant to discourage unwanted visitors?’ he asked, grabbing at the door-frame to steady himself.
    ‘It’s too late by then – they’re already in.’ Libby paused by the stairs to stroke Sidney. ‘This is my ultimate deterrent.’
    ‘A formidable beast.’ Ben and Sidney stared at one another. ‘I think I’ll let him make the first approach.’
    ‘Very wise,’ said Libby, going into the kitchen and taking off her cape. ‘Do you really want coffee, or something stronger?’
    ‘Coffee, please. I’m driving and I’ve already had a glass or two of wine.’
    ‘It’s not far to walk,’ said Libby, and could have bitten her tongue out.
    ‘Good God, Libby. You’re not actually encouraging me to stay, are you?’
    ‘No.’ Libby’s face was fiery. ‘I just meant, if you wanted a scotch, or something, you could leave the car here and come back for it in the morning.’
    ‘And have the neighbourhood rife with speculation about my car being here all night?’ He was laughing at her again.
    ‘Fine. Coffee.’ She turned to the Rayburn, tight-lipped.
    ‘Are you going to set the cat on me?’
    ‘His name’s Sidney.’ Libby filled the kettle and put it on the hob.
    ‘I’m sorry, Libby. I’m not making fun of you, really.’
    Libby turned round with two mugs in her hands. ‘I know, but you make me feel foolish. I always seem to say the wrong thing.’
    He sat down at the little kitchen table and smiled up at her. ‘You don’t, you know. If anyone says the wrong thing, it’s me.’
    How he managed it, Libby didn’t know, but the conversation returned effortlessly to the impersonal subjects they had been discussing earlier in the evening. Half an hour later, he took his leave and she saw him to the door.
    ‘Sidney didn’t need to leap to your defence after all.’
    Sidney was still at his post on the stairs.
    ‘No. Thank you.’
    ‘A little self-restraint is good for us all.’ He