was on the tip of Libby's tongue, but before she could speak someone hammered on the door. Vera jumped, tea slopping from her cup as the door swung open. Libby recognised Chief Inspector Arnold and her heart sank. He made no secret of the fact he thought Libby a nuisance, even when she helped untangle a case. He'd been furious when she outdid the police and solved the murder at the lighthouse.
Uniform buttons glinting, he stepped inside and took a long, slow look round the room, enjoying the moment. His close-set eyes glittered. ‘Sorry to disturb you, ladies.’ The high-pitched voice grated on Libby’s ears. ‘I need a word with you. I expect you've heard about the incident at the cathedral.’
His gaze fell on Libby. ‘Well, well.’ He fingered his chin. ‘Fancy meeting you here, Mrs Forest. Often turn up, don’t you, when there’s a crime? I’ll be suspecting you’re behind the murder, if you’re not careful. Ha,ha.’ The laugh was unconvincing, the small black eyes sharp. ‘Trying to get one over on the police, I suppose.’
‘Are we all suspects?’ giggled Vera. ‘How exciting.’
The chief inspector smiled through tight lips. ‘There'll be time for that, later. We're just making preliminary inquiries at the moment. It’s normal police procedure, nothing to be concerned about. I believe you all knew the deceased, Mr Giles Temple.’ Heads nodded. ‘What about you, Mrs Forest? Was he one of your acquaintances?’
Libby shook her head. ‘I never met him.’
‘And are you a member of the Knitters' Guild? I can’t seem to find your name anywhere on this list.’ He ran a long finger down a sheet of paper, his lips twitching. ‘Or maybe you work in the cathedral?’
Libby tried not to squirm under the sarcasm. ‘No, I was just…’ She stopped.
‘Quite. I suggest you get back to your chocolates and leave the police work to the professionals.’ Libby turned to gather up the empty cake tin and call Bear to her side. The chief inspector used a finger and thumb to pick up the ragged, unfinished square she’d been working on. ‘Not a professional knitter, I see.’
6
Max
Libby curled her feet on the sofa and chewed a fingernail. Max had rung as arranged, soon after she arrived home, but their conversation had been difficult and unsatisfactory.
‘I’ve cut down my consultancy work,’ he reminded her, ‘so at least one of us is committed to the future. Time to make your mind up, Libby. Are we a partnership, or not?’
‘Don’t hassle me. I need to think.’
‘I don’t know why you’ve suddenly developed cold feet. You usually jump headfirst into everything. once or twice you’ve almost got yourself killed as a result. No one could call you timid, so why are you being indecisive, now? Am I scary?’
A lump formed in Libby’s throat. ‘You’re not at all scary, Max. Try to understand. I’m not only grappling with the implications of a private investigation business on my cakes and chocolates, although that’s complicated enough. There’s the other thing, too.’
‘Us, you mean? Look we’ve talked about the future, and we’re not in a hurry. It’s not as though we’re getting married.’
‘No, but what are we doing. I mean, if we did, where would we live? In your house? If we did that, what about my cottage? I can’t just sell it. It’s important to me and besides, I run the chocolate business from the kitchen. You see what I mean?’
Max sighed. ‘It’s not complicated at all. You’re trying to think of problems. Be honest with me, Libby. We’re partners, aren’t we? We do well together. Why don’t we take things further? Be real partners, not just in business?’
She gulped. What did Max really want? Was he proposing marriage? Out of the blue, like this? ‘That’s not fair. Not on the phone.’
There was a long silence. ‘Max? Are you still there?’ Libby’s voice sounded very small.
‘OK. I won’t pin you down over the phone. Not about getting married, anyway. I suppose that’s not fair.’
‘Not very romantic,’ she mumbled.
His laugh sounded rueful. ‘No, I suppose not, but being away from you made me think.’
He cleared his throat. ‘We don’t need to commit. Not yet. But I won’t wait for ever. When I get home in a couple of days, I’m going to set up the business. You can join me, or not. Up to you.’
Libby swallowed but the lump remained. ‘Let’s talk about it when you come home.’
‘Meanwhile,’ Max dropped the serious tone. ‘Tell me about this murder you’re determined not to investigate.’
Relieved to change the subject, Libby told him about the cathedral library and the orange scarf, her spirits lifting as he laughed at her description of the knitters. ‘Angela’s upset. She says this Giles Temple was just a friend, but I don’t think she’s telling me the whole truth.’
‘And the police? Is Joe part of the inquiry?’ Max’s son, a detective sergeant, had worked on several other murder investigations.
‘I haven’t spoken to him. Chief Inspector Arnold appeared at the Knitters' Guild, though, and sent me home. I could have slapped his smug face.’
‘Turn the other cheek. You should hear the abuse I had from the company I visited today, when I questioned their shady accounts. Don’t let Arnold intimidate you.’
‘I won’t. Anyway, I won’t see him again. I’m not investigating, remember?’
‘You should at least go back to another meeting. It’s time you added knitting to your talents, and I could use a new sweater.’
Libby giggled. ‘You can knit your own.’
‘Did you discover any other keen knitters? Those who didn't attend the meeting.’
‘Yes, Angela dropped a list of names through the letter box on her way home. They’re planning a surprise for Wells, you see. A yarnbombing.’
Max chuckled. ‘OK. I give up. What’s a yarnbomb?’
Libby recited the details. ‘It’s due next week, on Tuesday, at dead of night.’
‘Tuesday. Good, I’ll be back by then. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. By the way, some old colleagues have agreed to send some investigative work my way. That would give our business a boost.’
Max went on, ‘And everyone in Somerset must have heard about Libby Forest, female sleuth, by now.’
‘OK, you know I’m tempted to work with you, Max. Leave it for now. I don’t want to give up my own business. Not yet, anyway.’
‘You don’t have to. Just cut back a little. Give Mandy more to do and take on another assistant. Forget the cakes and stick with the chocolates.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ Libby giggled.
‘What is it?’
‘I just realised the truth. You can’t live without my chocolates.’
‘Ah. You found me out.’ His voice softened. ‘I'm looking forward to coming home. Things will work out, you know. Oh, by the way, I'm bringing a colleague. An American.’
‘Anyone I know?’
‘No, but you’ll love him, though not too much, I hope. He’s younger than me.’
‘I like the sound of him already. What’s the occasion?’
‘Some work he’s doing.’ Max’s voice was vague. ‘I thought I’d ask a few people round to meet him. His name’s Reg Talbot, by the way. I thought, Robert and Sarah. You said they were planning to visit, to stay with her parents while they make wedding