Free Murder Out of Tune - A Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery by Lesley Cookman

experience.’
    ‘Well, don’t boast about it,’ said Libby. ‘He’s right though, Cass. It comes as a bit of a shock. And if he does ring, if there’s anything I can do …’
    ‘What she means is she’s dying for a legitimate reason to poke her nose in,’ said Harry with a grin.
    ‘No,’ said Libby, trying to look shocked. ‘Just trying to help.’
    ‘Yeah, right.’ Harry swung himself off his chair and ruffled Libby’s wiry locks. ‘Now I’ve got to get back to work. Are you staying for lunch?’
    ‘No thanks, Hal. Cass, how about a trip to the seaside?’
    ‘To see Fran?’
    ‘Yes – and we can have lunch overlooking the harbour.’
    ‘Yes, that would be lovely,’ said Cass. She drained her wine and stood up. ‘Thanks, Harry. You must let me pay for the wine.’
    ‘And break the habit of a lifetime? Get away.’ Harry removed both bottles and looked dubiously at Libby. ‘You’ve had two – should you be driving?’
    ‘We’ll go in my car,’ said Cassandra. ‘I’ve only had one.’
    While Cassandra went up to the flat to fetch her coat and car keys, Libby called Fran to apprise her of their imminent arrival.
    ‘She’s fallen for that Mike, then,’ said Harry, as she put her phone away.
    ‘Mad, isn’t it? She only met him yesterday. She’s been emailing him for years, though.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘She’s a mad keen gardener and he owns a nursery.’
    ‘Oh, Farthing’s Plants. That one. Yeah, Pete told me last night.’
    Cassandra appeared at the door. ‘Come on, then, Lib. Thanks again, Harry.’
    Libby directed Cassandra out of the village and towards Nethergate, pointing out the Tyne Chapel where black masses had supposedly been held, and the road to Bishop’s Bottom which led ultimately to the Willoughby Oak, scene of more Satanic activity only a couple of years ago.
    ‘Why is there so much of that sort of thing round here?’ Cassandra asked, as they began to descend the hill towards Nethergate.
    ‘No more than anywhere else,’ said Libby. ‘Anywhere where there are old stories of witches or ancient murders is bound to attract modern-day witches. The Willoughby Oak was where they hanged a wise woman called Cunning Mary, and every year there are supposed to be carryings-on on the anniversary of her death by a black magic coven. Well, there were until a couple of years ago.’
    ‘Were you involved?’
    ‘Er – a bit. Look, we’re coming up to the square. Turn left there, and we’ll see how near to Coastguard Cottage we can park.’
    Harbour Street glowed weakly under a pale November sun. Halfway along, past Guy’s gallery and shop and Lizzie’s ice cream booth, now shut until April, Coastguard Cottage stood, its white walls and blue paintwork looking rather smug among the duller grey and flint of the other cottages.
    ‘Looks like a postcard,’ said Cassandra, as she parked just beyond the cottage.
    ‘It is, now,’ said Libby. ‘I’ve painted it for Guy, and one of the best sellers in his gallery is the view from the front room window. I had a picture exactly like that on my bedroom wall when I was a child, and I just keep replicating it.’
    ‘Couldn’t you just do prints of it?’ said Cassandra curiously. ‘Seems an awful lot of work.’
    Libby shook her head. ‘No. Guy’s customers like original work. I’ve now become known as a “local artist” and the prices have gone up exponentially.’
    ‘Good for you.’ Cassandra got out and locked the car. ‘Come on. I want to see what your friend Fran has to say about Mike.’
    ‘She doesn’t know him,’ said Libby, leading the way across the road.
    ‘Does she have to? I’m relying on her psychic power!’

Chapter Ten
    ‘No, Cass, you can’t!’ Libby turned on her cousin, elbows planted firmly on her hips.
    ‘Why not?’ Cassandra raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s what she does, isn’t it?’
    ‘No, it isn’t. Fran gets pictures in her head which her children used to call “Mother’s