An Unmentionable Murder (3 page)

Remembering the day Earl presented her with the wriggling puppies, a wave of longing swept over her. So many times she had waited, her heart full of dread, for him to come safely back to the manor. Each time he'd returned, she'd sent up a prayer of thanks, knowing that the next good-bye could be the last.

These days the waiting seemed to get harder each time he left, and never as agonizing as it was right now. With news of the invasion filtering through in dribs and drabs, she knew only that the Allied forces, though making some headway, were taking heavy losses.

According to the latest news, they had secured beaches and were building artificial harbors for the landing operations, with the help of Allied bombing raids on the enemy lines.

It was this last part that concerned her the most, of course. Earl was in the midst of it all, flying through those perilous skies with nothing between him and the flying bullets but a sheet of thin metal.

Just the thought of it filled her veins with ice. This had to be his most dangerous mission so far. He'd been fortunate up until now. He'd even been shot down once and returned with little more than a limp and a plaster on his forehead.

How long could his luck hold out? She'd heard the men talking, saying the more missions they flew, the greater the odds against them coming back.

The dogs barked, chasing away her morbid thoughts. They stood side by side several yards off, impatient to go to the cliffs, where they could race and tumble in the deep grass.

First, she reminded herself, they had to at least make a token effort to look for Martin. She headed toward the dogs, waving Martin's scarf and wondering what on earth had possessed her to imagine they could actually understand what she wanted from them.

It was more than two hours later when she finally returned to the manor. By then, exhausted and hungry, she'd forgotten her original mission. She'd allowed the dogs to romp until they were ready to drop, while she'd indulged in her favorite pastime—reliving memories of all her meetings with Earl.

It wasn't until Violet dragged the heavy oak door open and Elizabeth caught sight of her housekeeper's face, that she remembered. “What happened?” she demanded, stepping inside. “Is Martin all right?”

“I don't know.” Violet closed the door, then leaned against it for a moment before turning around. “He's still missing. The girls and I have searched everywhere in the manor. Desmond has searched the grounds. He even bicycled down to the village, in case Martin had taken it into his head to walk down there. Though, slow as he walks, he would never have got that far until after dark. There was no sign of him.” She shook her head. “I don't know where he's gone, Lizzie. He's missed his meal and it's almost time for supper. He's never done that before. I have to tell you, I'm really worried. I'm afraid something terrible might have happened to him this time. What are we going to do?”

 
By the time the long summer twilight finally gave way to dusky night, Martin still hadn't returned to the Manor House. Just to be sure, Violet sent Polly and Sadie on another extensive hunt throughout the mansion, until everyone was convinced the elderly gentleman was not inside.

Greatly worried, Elizabeth rang the police constable at home, since the police station had closed its doors several hours ago. Judging by P.C. George Dalrymple's tone, he'd been woken up from a deep sleep, for which Elizabeth profusely apologized.

“You know I wouldn't disturb you if I wasn't certain these are dire circumstances,” she assured him, after she'd recounted all the efforts they'd made to find Martin. “I'm afraid he's wandering around in the woods somewhere, though why he would be there in the first place I can't imagine.”

“Well, you know the old boy's a bit dotty, your ladyship,” George said, still sounding irritable. “I'm just surprised he hasn't wandered off before this. He'll turn up in the morning as bold as brass, you'll see.”

“No one,” Elizabeth said with emphasis, “is going to get any sleep while Martin is out there somewhere in the dark, alone and probably lost and confused. It's damp out there at night. He could get pneumonia and at his age that could very well be the death of him.”

Standing behind her in the kitchen, Violet clicked her tongue in dismay. Ignoring the interruption, Elizabeth said firmly, “I waited until I was certain Martin was officially missing. I must insist that we send out a search party immediately. My staff and I will search the woods adjoining the estate. I suggest you round up as many volunteers as you can find and organize them to search the rest of the area.”

George's resigned voice echoed wearily down the line. “Very well, your ladyship. I'll see what I can do.”

“Right away, George.”

“Yes, m'm. Right away it is.”

Elizabeth hung up the phone, trying to feel reassured. Violet sat at the table, her arms crossed over her flat chest. Huddled in front of the stove, Polly's and Sadie's faces were strained with worry.

“I know it's late,” Elizabeth said, appealing hopefully to the girls, “and I wouldn't ask if I didn't think—”

“It's all right, m'm,” Sadie butted in. “Me and Polly would love to help look for him, wouldn't we, Pol?”

“ 'Course we will, m'm. I couldn't sleep not knowing what had happened to Martin.”

“Me neither,” Sadie declared. “He's a funny old bloke and he's got a screw or two missing and I know he calls me names and everything but I know he'd do the same for me if it was the other way around.”

Elizabeth seriously doubted that, but she nodded in agreement anyway. “Good. I'm going to take the motorcycle and search the lanes. I wonder if you two wouldn't mind searching the woods?”

Polly looked scared but she lifted her chin and linked her arm through Sadie's. “If Martin is in the woods, we'll find him,” she said stoutly.

“We'll take torches with us,” Sadie added.

Polly gasped. “What about the blackout?”

“Nobody'll see the lights in the woods, silly. Besides, it's getting on for midnight. Who's going to be walking around this late at night?”

“Just be careful,” Elizabeth told them. “I don't want you two getting into any trouble.”

“You can't ride that motorcycle in the dark,” Violet said. “Without lights you won't see a thing.”

“There's enough moonlight for me to see the road,” Elizabeth assured her.

Violet got to her feet. “I'm coming with you. You'll need your eyes to watch the road. I can watch out for any sign of Martin.”

Elizabeth regarded her warily. “You'd have to ride in the sidecar.”

Violet flinched, but reached for the maroon knitted cardigan she always left hanging behind the door. “While we're standing around talking about it, we could be out there looking.”

“Come on, Pol,” Sadie said, dragging Polly to the door. “Let's get cracking. The sooner we find him the sooner we can get to bed.” They disappeared into the hallway, earning Elizabeth's heartfelt gratitude.

A few minutes later she and Violet were on their way down the shadowy driveway, crawling along at a snail's pace to peer into the trees that lined the long, winding path. Turning into the lane, Elizabeth sent up yet another silent prayer. First Earl, now Martin.
Please, please, let them at least find one of them safe and sound.

For two hours they crawled down lanes and byways, stopping every now and then to peer over gates and hedges, circling the village twice before finally having to admit defeat. Hampered by the darkness, it was impossible to see farther than a few yards in the dense undergrowth that lined the fields and downs, and even Violet, who never gave up on anything, suggested they get some sleep and continue the search in the morning.

In a last desperate measure, Elizabeth pulled up on the coast road and cut the engine. “If we both yell together,” she told Violet, “Martin might hear us and call out. Our voices will carry from up here. If he's in the woods, maybe the girls will hear him.”

“If they're still out here,” Violet grumbled. “It's got to be long after midnight.”

“It's worth a try.” Elizabeth climbed off the saddle and went to the edge of the road. Facing the woods, she put both hands to her mouth. “On three,” she said. “Both together. One, two, three . . .
Martin!
”

Their combined voices echoed across the downs, then faded away. The only sound that answered them was a scuffling in the deep grass a few yards away, and the steady clip-clop of a horse's hooves off in the distance.

“One more time,” Elizabeth said, cupping her mouth once more. “One, two, three . . .
Martin!
”

Violet's voice cracked on the shout, and Elizabeth's throat felt raw with the effort of shrieking her butler's name. “All right,” she said wearily. “I suppose we shall have to just wait until daylight and look for him then.”

“Let's just hope he has enough sense to find somewhere warm to sleep,” Violet muttered.

Elizabeth climbed back on the motorcycle, knowing full well that neither of them would sleep comfortably in their beds knowing Martin was out there somewhere in the cold, damp black of night, alone and more than likely feeling abandoned.

Sadie was already asleep in her room when they got back to the Manor House. Violet went to peek in Martin's room just in case he'd returned, but she came back to the kitchen with a long face that dashed Elizabeth's hopes.

As she expected, Elizabeth tossed and turned the rest of the night, slipping in and out of sleep until the twittering sparrows finally got her out of bed at the break of dawn. All night long she'd listened for the shrill ring of the telephone, not really sure if she was waiting to hear about Martin, or if her thoughts were more concerned with the long silence from Earl.

Much to her surprise, Violet was already up and pottering about the kitchen when Elizabeth entered it some time later. It was not yet six o'clock, but the sun streamed through the windows and bathed the kitchen in a warm glow.

While her housekeeper poured her a steaming cup of tea, Elizabeth rang George's house again. This time his wife answered.

“He's gone down to the station early, your ladyship,” Millie said. “He's really worried about poor Mr. Chezzlewit. We were all out looking for him last night until it got too dark to see.”

“I appreciate all your efforts,” Elizabeth said, feeling ridiculously close to tears. “I just can't think where he could be.”

“I'm sure he's all right, m'm. My George will find him today, I'm sure.”

Wishing she could feel as confident, Elizabeth hung up the telephone. “I'm going down to the police station,” she told Violet. “I just can't sit around here not knowing what they are doing about this.”

“Breakfast first,” Violet said. “You need something in your tummy before you go out.”

“I'm too upset to eat.” The morning newspaper lay on the table and she picked it up. “I don't suppose there's any more news about the invasion.”

“Haven't had time to read it yet.” Violet stirred a simmering pot of porridge with a large wooden spoon. “More doom and gloom in there, no doubt.”

Elizabeth scanned the headlines. “It's not much different from yesterday's news. I wish they would tell us what's really going on over there.”

“So it could worry you all the more, I suppose.” Violet spooned the thick, gooey porridge into a bowl. “Here, get this down you. You'll feel better for it.”

Elizabeth obediently sat, her glance straying to Martin's empty chair. “Poor Martin. I'm afraid he's in real trouble this time.”

Violet turned away so sharply Elizabeth suspected she had tears in her eyes. “Silly old goat. What did he have to go out on his own for? You'd think he'd know better.”

“Probably looking for Germans,” Elizabeth murmured. “I hope he didn't take that old blunderbuss with him.”

“No, it's still hanging on the wall. Besides, it's so old he'd never get it to fire.”

“That's what we thought that night he fired it at Earl.” Elizabeth smiled. “Do you remember that night? He thought Earl was attacking me and he shot at him with the blunderbuss.”

Still with her back turned, Violet's shoulders shook. “Knocked him off his feet it did, silly old fool. Good job there weren't no bullets in that thing. He'd have blown the major's head right off.”

Remembering how Earl had thrown her to the floor and protected her with his body, Elizabeth's smile faded. Surely,
surely,
she wasn't going to lose both of them at the same time. That would be just too much to bear.

It didn't help when an odd sound escaped from Violet, which Elizabeth could swear was a sob. She busied herself with pouring the cream from the top of the milk bottle onto her porridge in order to give her housekeeper time to compose herself.

When she thought it was safe to talk again, Elizabeth said lightly, “Well, it looks as if it will be a good day to pull down that dreadful factory. At least it's not raining, and the wind seems fairly light.”

“Good thing to be rid of that.” Violet's voice was muffled, as if she had a bad cold.

Elizabeth ate her porridge as fast as her strict upbringing allowed, then pushed her chair back and stood. “I'm going to run down to the station,” she said to Violet's back. “Is there anything you need?”

“No, thanks, Lizzie. I'll be going to the shops myself later. You just try to find that old fool, all right?”

“I'll certainly give it my best effort.” Elizabeth left the kitchen and hurried up the steps to the front door. Stopping just long enough to grab her coat from the hall stand and the silk scarf to tie around her hair, she let herself out into the cool morning air.