Free Murder by the Sea by Lesley Cookman Page A

Mclean. Then we’ll go investigating.’
    ‘I don’t honestly see what this has to do with the body on the island,’ said Fran. ‘I think you’re grasping at straws.’
    ‘Maybe, but at least it gets us working. We’ve done nothing but potter about over the last week, and tomorrow you’re off to Chrissie’s, aren’t you? So Saturday we really ought to be doing something.’
    ‘Look, Lib, we’re not real detectives. And you’re not even supposed to be part of the investigation.’ Fran eyed her friend warily, waiting for the outburst. Surprisingly, it didn’t come.
    ‘I know that, but you’ve been invited into it legitimately, and you said yourself I’d be useful. And you know you want to find out really. So we act like real detectives and start with whatever we’ve got.’ Libby sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.
    ‘Right.’ Fran thought for a moment. ‘I suppose it makes sense. I’ll phone McLean tomorrow and ask about the Transnistrian before I go to Chrissie’s.’
    ‘OK.’ Libby opened her eyes. ‘And it’s the audition tomorrow night. You won’t be there for it, but can I say you’re doing Props?’
    ‘You can, but you can also ask for a volunteer to do it with me. I’m not doing it all on my own.’
    ‘Right,’ said Libby thoughtfully. ‘That’s given me an idea.’
    ‘Oh, no,’ said Fran with a familiar groan. ‘Don’t tell me. Jane Maurice.’
    ‘Well, of course,’ said Libby. ‘It makes perfect sense. She lives in Nethergate and so do you, so you could share the driving, and she wouldn’t be doing something on her own.’
    ‘Always supposing the poor girl actually wants to do something.’
    ‘Look, you’re just prejudiced because she tried to turn you into a media star,’ said Libby. ‘She’s only trying to do her job, and as I keep saying to everybody, she’s lonely.’
    ‘OK,’ said Fran with a sigh, ‘you ask her. And I’ll find out anything else I can about our Transnistrian.’
    ‘That’s the spirit.’ Libby beamed at her friend. ‘I’ve missed having something to do. And now, why did you feel it was so urgent you had to come over rather than ringing me?’
    Fran looked sheepish. ‘I feel a bit silly, really.’
    ‘Not like you.’
    ‘No, I know. But I had this sudden desire to see where Jane lived, so I drove past thinking I’d go on to the supermarket afterwards.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Well, it was really odd. You told me Jane’s Aunt had left her the house, didn’t you? And I suppose that made me think about the similarity of our circumstances, especially as Jane’s house is also converted into flats like Mountville Road was.’
    ‘Go on,’ said Libby, as Fran paused.
    ‘I said it was silly,’ said Fran, peering down into her mug. ‘I suddenly thought, as I drove past, I knew which one it was and something nasty had happened there.’
    Libby stared. ‘You think it was just because of your own experience of Mountville Road?’
    ‘I don’t know what to think.’
    ‘Funny.’ Libby frowned. ‘When I had lunch with Harry he asked if Jane was anything to do with the body. I said only because she saw it first. But I wonder.’
    Fran looked startled. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said, ‘that’s quite ridiculous. We’re talking real life here, not coincidental detective stories. Besides, since when did Harry become psychic?’
    ‘That’s what I said to him, but I think he was just putting two and two together like we have in the past.’
    ‘And made five, also as we have,’ said Fran.
    ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But look, she spotted the body, didn’t she? Suppose she was a plant?’
    ‘You’ve met her. I don’t think she’d be capable. And you’re not suggesting she murdered someone and planted the body all by herself just to get a story, are you?’
    ‘Of course not.’
    ‘Anyway,’ said Fran, ‘I didn’t get a bad feeling about Jane but about the house.’
    ‘Oh, well, it was a thought,’ said Libby.
    ‘You’re the one who