A Bitter Truth (26 page)

Captain Ellis turned back toward The King’s Head, his face like a thundercloud.

I carried my own valise down to Reception and was waiting there when Captain Ellis came striding inside, as if walking off his black mood. He saw me and without a word took my valise and went out to the motorcar. I followed, and he handed me into the seat before turning the crank.

When we had reversed and were heading in the direction of the Forest, I said, “From my window I saw you speaking to the man they call Willy. What sort of person is he?”

I thought at first he would take my head off for asking.

I added, “Once when I was passing by, he looked up, and there was an odd expression in his eyes. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. But surely not that of a half-witted vagabond. Slyness? Calculation?”

“I’ve only spoken to him once or twice before this,” Captain Ellis said, driving far too fast for the condition of the roads after so much rain. “But I think you’re right. He’s not quite what he seems. I was asking him if he was sure that Davis Merrit had given him that watch. And he was unshakable on that subject.”

“Do you know the Lieutenant? From the war, I mean? Could he have been one of your men? Or someone you saw in a dressing station?”

“No. I’d have remembered. Merrit was wounded about the same time I was. Or so my mother has told me. But we weren’t in the same sector, apparently. He was with the Buffs, I think. The Kent regiment. So far I’ve never served with them.”

“Did Lieutenant Hughes know Merrit? Or Willy?”

“If he did, he never mentioned it. Why?”

“I’m not sure. I expect I’m looking for some connection that might explain what happened. As in an old quarrel resurfacing.”

“Ridiculous.” And then he said slowly, “Yes, I see what you mean. If there was bad blood, encountering each other again might have meant trouble. Trouble that had nothing to do with the Ellis family. I wish I knew. It might help take attention away from Vixen Hill.”

We drove on in silence then, and finally ahead of us was the turning for the house. But Roger Ellis didn’t turn. He drove straight on, and I said, “Where are we going?”

“To St. Mary’s. I want you to tell me precisely what you’ve told Rother. Will you do that?”

I was suddenly wary. “I don’t know if that’s wise.”

“What harm can it do?” he asked shortly, and a silence fell again. He broke it this time.

“Will you continue to search for this child? Or will you give it up?”

“I’m not always free to come and go,” I told him honestly. “But if I can, yes.”

“I don’t see why. There’s nothing you can do about her even if you find her.”

“That’s true. I just have a feeling I ought to do this.”

He grunted wordlessly in answer.

When we came to St. Mary’s, Roger left the motorcar by the verge, and we walked through the tall wrought iron gate. I looked at the marble kitten, but it seemed to be in exactly the same place. Had Mrs. Ellis really noticed a change? I was no judge.

“I brought you here to help you remember. Was there anything unusual about the churchyard that morning?”

“It was quiet. I didn’t notice that anything had changed since we were here the day before. But when I came to the path down to the stream, I could tell that someone—something—had come that way earlier. Stems bent or broken. That was George Hughes going down, surely, and whoever had followed him.”

But he wasn’t satisfied. “There must have been something. A man had been killed here just hours before. For God’s sake, help me!”

“I wasn’t prepared to find a dead man. I wasn’t looking for signs, evidence.” Was he trying to find out whether or not I knew about the kitten? I was beginning to regret coming with him. Simon had been right, I needed to be careful.

“They took all the walking sticks at Vixen Hill. Did the police tell you what sort of weapon was used?”

I hadn’t heard that. “No. And I couldn’t see the back of his head from where I stood. Nor when I bent over him to feel for a pulse. His hair was wet, what I could see of it, and I didn’t move him.”

I think he’d forgot that I was a nurse and had seen many dead bodies before this. He glanced quickly at me, and then away.

I remembered something. “Yesterday he asked me—Inspector Rother—if your mother and I had seen birds fly up, or heard them calling, as if disturbed. But we hadn’t. And I couldn’t think why we should have done. Surely the killer wasn’t still here after all that time.”

“Not if he was wise.” Roger Ellis sighed. “All right. It was worth trying. They’ll be wondering at Vixen Hill what has kept us.” He took my elbow as we turned back across the rough grass toward the motorcar.

We were halfway there when I stopped short. “Captain Ellis.”

“I told you in France. Roger. What is it?”

“Roger. It wasn’t
birds
he was asking me to remember. He just used them as an example, to nudge my memory. What he wanted to know was if we’d heard a horse neighing or moving about. There are horses here and there in the Forest. But he didn’t want to put that idea into my head. Because Davis Merrit had been out riding that morning, and the horse came back without him. What if he hadn’t encountered George and killed him, as Inspector Rother wanted to believe—what if instead, quite by accident, he’d met someone else out here, and that person had not wanted to be remembered so close to where the body would eventually be found?”

“Then Merrit is dead, isn’t he? It would explain everything—sending for you and for the rest of us, having to begin the inquiry from the very start.”

“But how did the watch come into Willy’s possession? Who gave it to him? Unless Willy himself is the killer, and he was trying to throw suspicion in Davis Merrit’s direction?”

“Why would Willy kill George Hughes?” Roger Ellis asked as he closed the tall iron gates and then held my door for me. “I didn’t think they even knew each other.”

“What if they did? Inspector Rother has asked me several times if I knew any of you from France. What if the connection was there? Did George ever mention Willy to you? Did you ever see him speak to Willy?”

“No.” He cranked the motorcar and then stepped in beside me. “It’s more likely that George knew him from here, in the Forest. He lived here, remember, for much of his life. He and Malcolm.”

“But you didn’t know Willy, did you?”

He smiled grimly. “There are many people here in the Forest that I don’t know. And I’m not even certain that that’s Willy’s true name.”

“Inspector Rother called him William Pryor.”

“Pryor? I don’t know of any family in the Forest by that name. But it proves nothing. Still, you’d think if Pryor came from here, Inspector Rother would know all about him by now.”

“That’s true. Inspector Rother has told me that he suspects everyone. Even me.”

“He’s found Merrit’s body, then. I wonder where it was?”

I knew. At a place called The Pitch. But I was still wary of telling anyone too much about my conversation with the Inspector. I had a feeling he was laying a trap.

When I said nothing, Roger went on, anger in his face. “I don’t like any of this. Damn it, I left my men to come home, and they’ve been fighting. Someone told me on the ship that the Germans had tried to break through again. And I wasn’t there. I wasn’t
there
.”

I knew what he was feeling. Men at the Front were bound by ties that had nothing to do with blood or class or county. And a good officer wanted to be there when his men were in jeopardy. Whether he could protect them or not, he would try his best. And he was never satisfied that anyone else could fill his shoes. I’d seen badly wounded men get up and try to walk, to convince us that they were able to return to duty.

I put out a hand, before I could change my mind. “Wait. Will you go back to the churchyard with me? There’s something I want to show you.”

He stopped the motorcar. I thought he would argue with me, but he didn’t. He got down and came around to open my door.

We walked back in silence, opened the gate, and after closing it, he followed me across the cold, winter-brown grass. I stopped at his sister’s gravestone.

“Do you notice anything different here?” I asked.

Frowning, he looked carefully at the figure of the marble child, and then dropped to his haunches, squatting on an eye level with the grave.

“No. All seems as it should be.”

Watching his face carefully, I said, “Then I was wrong. I—it’s just that I thought the kitten was not in its usual place.”

He studied the kitten, almost as realistic as the little girl it kept company through all these years.

“It’s exactly where it ought to be—almost touching her fingers.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But you did ask me to consider everything.”

“Yes, well done.” We went back to the motorcar after closing the gate a second time.

I had seen Roger Ellis’s expression. If that marble kitten had been used as the murder weapon, it wasn’t the Captain who had employed it.

And I realized all at once that he wouldn’t have. If he’d intended murder, he’d have come prepared. He wouldn’t have desecrated his sister’s grave.

We drove to Vixen Hill in silence. Roger Ellis had been pleasant enough so far, but then he’d wanted my cooperation. Time would tell whether his mood lasted or not.

M
rs. Ellis looked tired when I saw her as I walked into the hall. Inspector Rother had gone, and although she smiled and told her son that he’d just made her give the same account over and over again until she was confused and felt a headache coming on, he looked sharply at her.

“There’s more. What did he tell you?”

“Very little. Except at the end. Roger, I think the police have found Davis Merrit’s body. Something—I didn’t know quite what it was—distracted him the entire two hours. I could tell, because sometimes I had to repeat what I’d just said. Finally I asked him if there was any news of Davis Merrit’s whereabouts. If that was why he’d come back here to question me. And he said he was unable to question the Lieutenant at this time. Not that he hadn’t found him, mind you, but that he was unable to question him.”

Roger turned to me and said, “I told you!” Then he said to his mother, “Where? Where did they find him? Not here, not in the Forest. You wrote that the police had searched the Forest from one end to the other.”

“In The Pitch,” I said before I could stop myself. “I think that’s where.”

“Good God.”

Mrs. Ellis turned to me. “I don’t think you’ve been there. It’s a low saucer of land that has become quite boggy over the years, particularly in winter, with the rains. I remember Roger’s grandfather showing it to me and telling me that when the King was too old to ride, he and his men would stand in that dip of ground and wait for the deer to be driven past them.”

“Perhaps half a mile from the church. From St. Mary’s,” Roger said. “Only it’s rough going there. Still, I don’t see how—do they know how he died?”

“They never admitted he was dead. I told you,” his mother answered.

Lydia had walked into the hall. She must have seen or heard the motorcar arrive and had come down to meet me.

She stopped. “Who is dead?”

“We think it’s Davis Merrit, my dear,” Mrs. Ellis told her. “We think they’ve found him at last.”

Her face lost its color. “Oh, I’m so sorry. He had handled his blindness so well. It was amazing to me how he got about. I never believed he killed George.” She turned to Roger. “Is this why they’ve reopened the inquiry?”

Roger Ellis had been watching his wife closely. “You must ask the police that.” He turned away, his mouth tight, and went up the stairs.

Lydia closed her eyes for a moment, then said to me with a forced smile. “I’m so glad you could come. Mama Ellis was closeted with the Inspector, and Roger volunteered to go to Hartfield in her place.”

Because he needed to be sure he could count on my silence about Rouen. But I said, “That was kind of him.”

“Yes, I told you he’d changed. Well. Let me take you up to your room. It’s the same one.”

She caught up my valise and was holding the door as I thanked Mrs. Ellis for letting me stay.

She said, a sadness in her eyes, “We’re all in this together, aren’t we? I can’t help but wonder where it will end.”

With the arrest of her son? Or was she fearful for herself?

I followed Lydia up the stairs. On the landing, we encountered Gran. She looked at me with surprise and displeasure. I could guess that no one had told her I was coming back to Vixen Hill.

“Mrs. Ellis,” I said, smiling politely, and walked on.

“I can’t think why Gran is so cold to me,” I said, when we were in my room and the door had shut behind us. “What have I done to upset her?”

“I expect she feels you’ve let down your sex and your class by taking up nursing. She’s very old-fashioned, is Gran.”

“Many of the nursing sisters in Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service are women of the middle and upper classes. We’re said to look down on the Australian nurses, who sometimes aren’t. Although I haven’t seen any of that. We’re far too grateful for help to quibble. Australian, American, English, we all save lives.”