Death Is in the Air (9 page)

“Yes, well, you can thank Sid for most of that.” The unfortunate Sid received another baleful glare. “Oh, I almost forgot. The victim’s parents are driving down today to claim the body. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Thank you, George. I trust you can take care of that?”

“Of course, m’m. No need to worry on that account. Just one word of warning, though, if I may. I’d steer clear of Mrs. Crumm and her brood. Never know what she’ll be up to next, but one thing I do know, she’s quite capable of taking care of herself.”

“I’m sure she is,” Elizabeth said as she headed for the door, “but it’s not Rita I’m worried about. It’s all those empty-headed, trusting fools who plunge joyfully into jeopardy behind her.”

She left the warmth of the station and climbed aboard her motorcycle. Although the rain had ceased, she could feel a distinct nip in the air. The smell of dried grass and corn stubble had given way to the pungent aroma of seaweed and salt. The winds had shifted. Soon the nights would be drawing in, and morning frost would coat the bare branches of the oaks and beech trees in the woods. Already the prickly burrs were falling from the chestnut trees, and the children would be gathering them to roast in the fireplaces.

Elizabeth secured her hat by tying her scarf under her chin. She hoped fervently that mothers would make every effort to keep their children out of the woods until the German was captured and the murder solved. Time was of the essence, and it seemed unlikely she would receive much help from the local constabulary.

There wasn’t much she could do about capturing the German pilot, she acknowledged, as she sailed down the High Street with her skirt tucked up beneath her as much as modesty allowed. But she had managed to solve one murder without too much help from the police. There was no reason why she couldn’t do it again.

She arrived at the village green just as Rita Crumm climbed up on the small pavilion, prepared to address her enthusiastic, if misguided, band of followers.

The roar of Elizabeth’s motorcycle momentarily
distracted the excited group, and several women turned to wave at her as she coasted to a halt.

Obviously put out by this unwarranted interruption, Rita screeched at the top of her lungs, “Ladies! Pay attention! We are here to serve our country today. So please stop nattering like magpies and listen to me.”

Chatting busily, the women ignored her.

Elizabeth cut the engine, and in the deafening silence that followed, Rita bellowed, “I said, will you bloody fools listen to me!”

The women stopped talking. A couple of them giggled and were immediately nudged into silence by others.

“That’s better.” Rita tossed her head, and the little tight curls on her forehead bounced up and down. “This is serious. If we are going to hunt down a German we have to do it”—she raised her voice and yelled—“
quietly
.”

“You tell ’em, Ma!” a high-pitched voice encouraged from the front of the crowd.

Elizabeth recognized Rita’s daughter, Lilly, who had apparently taken a day off from the factory to join in the hunt. The stupidity of this woman in placing her own child in jeopardy astounded Elizabeth. Rita, however, seemed just as shocked to see her daughter standing there.

“Why aren’t you at work?” she demanded.

“I’ve come to help you find that murdering bugger, haven’t I,” Lilly declared in a close emulation of her mother’s strident voice.

“Over my dead body,” Rita snapped back. “You get your blinking arse back to work this minute. I never heard of such a thing, taking off like that. You could lose your job over this.”

“I wish.” Lilly stuck her fingers into her muddy blond hair and fluffed up the curls. “They’re not going to sack me, Ma . . . they need all the help they can get down there.”

“I don’t care if they sack you or not. You’re going back there this minute.”

“Aw, Ma . . . I want to help you find that Nazi. I even brought a knife with me.”

Sunlight glinted on the blade of a wicked-looking butcher knife in Lilly’s hand. A woman standing close to the young girl screamed.

“Shut up, you silly cow,” Lilly muttered.

“You tell her, Lil,” someone else called out.

Rita’s face had turned crimson. “This is a job for grown women,” she howled, “not children! Go back to work, Lilly, or I’ll lock you in your bedroom when I get home.”

“I’m not a child!” Lilly yelled back. “I’m seventeen. If I’m old enough to die from a bomb falling on me, I’m old enough to hunt down the bugger what’s dropping them, so there!”

“Here, here! Yay!” The women clapped and cheered.

“Let’s find the bugger and kill him!” someone else called out.

A roar of approval went up from the crowd.

Deciding it was time she intervened, Elizabeth stepped forward. A path miraculously cleared through the crowd in front of her. Amid murmured greetings, which she acknowledged with a gracious nod, she headed for the pavilion.

Rita watched her approach, her grim expression warning Elizabeth that she had no easy task in front of her. She climbed the worn steps of the pavilion and reached Rita’s side.

“Lady Elizabeth,” Rita muttered, her lips so thinned the words barely slipped through. “What a surprise. Have you come to join us in the hunt?”

“Certainly not.” Elizabeth turned to face the crowd and raised her voice. “Listen to me, all of you. The military has sent soldiers to search the woods for the German pilot. If you go in there today you could very well be mistaken for him, and someone could get badly
hurt. Please, go home and let the soldiers do their job.”

“They need our help out there,” Rita declared, addressing the housewives, who were muttering to each other again. “We know those woods better than any soldier. We know where to look.”

“And what will you do when you find him?” Elizabeth demanded. “He’s not going to understand anything you say.”

“He’ll understand this.” Rita brandished a carving knife in her face.

The crowd sent up a few half-hearted cheers. “I don’t want to hurt no one,” someone said. “I faint at the sight of blood.”

“Blood!” someone else exclaimed. “No one said anything about no blood!”

“We’re not going to use the knives!” Rita wailed. “They are just to frighten him, that’s all.”

“Can’t we frighten him with our fists?” someone asked.

“What fists?” her neighbor demanded. “I ain’t got no fists.”

“I’m going home,” someone else called out. “I don’t want to be shot at by no soldiers.”

A chorus of “me neither” greeted the woman’s announcement.

Ignoring Rita’s frantic pleas, the housewives began drifting off, one by one, until only three remained, one of whom was Lilly.

“You still here?” Rita punched her fists into her hips. “I thought I told you to go back to work.”

“I’m going,” Lilly mumbled. “It’s more fun there than standing here watching a bunch of old biddies wetting their drawers at the thought of being shot at. Blinking good job they’re not in the real army. We’d lose the bloody war.”

“Watch your bloody language in front of Lady Elizabeth!” Rita shouted.

“Sorry, m’m,” Lilly hunched her shoulders and
grabbed the bicycle she’d leaned against the wall of the abandoned sweet shop. “Better watch out if you go in the woods, Ma. One look at your face, and that Nazi’ll run all the way back to Germany.” She swung a leg across the saddle in a most inelegant manner that would have been embarrassing were it not for the fact that she wore slacks. “Ta ta for now!” With a last defiant wave of her hand she wobbled off down the lane.

“You must excuse my daughter, Lady Elizabeth,” Rita said, her face flushed as red as a beetroot. “She’s going through that age, you know.”

Not quite certain as to what exactly “that age” referred to, Elizabeth smiled instead. She was so immensely relieved that a potentially dangerous situation had been successfully defused she felt like beaming at everyone. Even Rita Crumm. “I’m so glad you all changed your minds,” she said.

“Oh, I think you deserve the credit for changing their minds, Lady Elizabeth,” Rita said, ice forming on her words. “I do hope the soldiers have better luck in finding that murderer today. I should hate for someone else to be killed because they didn’t have enough people out there looking for him.”

Although she refused to let Rita see it, Elizabeth felt a strong pang of apprehension. She felt perfectly justified in persuading the women not to go into the woods. As far as the murderer was concerned, however, she couldn’t help feeling she wasn’t doing everything she could to find out who had killed Amelia Brunswick.

What was even more disturbing, she couldn’t rid herself of the notion that she already had the answer to the puzzle. It was buried so deeply in the recesses of her mind, however, that she could not bring it to the surface, no matter how she struggled. She could only hope for now that her fears were unfounded and that poor Maurice Macclesby had not hacked Amelia Brunswick to death with a spade.

CHAPTER
9

Elizabeth arrived home to the news that Sheila Macclesby had rung with an urgent message for her to call back.

“Sounded real upset, she did,” Violet said, her wooden spoon swishing around in the vegetable soup she had boiling in the pot. “Wouldn’t tell me what she wanted, though.”

“I’ll go up to the office and ring her after lunch.” Elizabeth removed her gloves and sat down at the table. “Did you ring the council members?”

“Polly did. They’ll all be at the town hall at half past two.” Violet dished up a bowl of the soup and carried it over to the table. “Here, eat that. You look a bit frazzled.”

Elizabeth ran a hand though her tangled locks. “It was that beastly shower this morning. It soaked my hat. I don’t think it will ever be the same again.”

“Panama hats are not supposed to be worn in the rain.”

“It’s the only decent one I have left beside the straw, and that’s looking worse for wear now.”

“There’s a lot to be said for a good old-fashioned cloth pull-on, that’s what I say.” Violet placed another bowl of soup on the table.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “They are so awfully drab. Not in the least bit fashionable.”

“They’re good enough for the queen. The king doesn’t seem to mind her wearing them.”

“I doubt if the king has much say in the matter,” Elizabeth murmured. “Besides, royalty are supposed to wear hats without brims so that people can see their faces. The royal family has never been too adventurous when it comes to fashion, in any case. I wouldn’t be caught dead in some of the clothes the queen wears.”

“Elizabeth Hartleigh Compton! Watch your tongue! You shouldn’t be talking about the royal family like that.” Violet went to the door and yelled for Martin. “I don’t know what he gets up to lately,” she said, coming back to the table, “but he’s never on time for meals anymore. He used to hover around the kitchen like a starving pigeon waiting for me to dish up, but now I have to call him down all the time.”

“Martin doesn’t have much sense of anything nowadays. He’s living in the past most of the time.”

“Don’t I know it.” Violet looked at the clock. “His soup is going to get cold if he doesn’t hurry up. Where can he be?”

“He’s probably talking to Father in the great hall,” Elizabeth murmured, only half paying attention. Her mind was on the message from Sheila Macclesby. She’d deliberately put off calling her until after lunch because she was afraid Sheila was going to tell her that Maurice had killed Amelia and would then beg her to help him. If Maurice had killed the girl, there was absolutely
nothing she could do about it. She wasn’t looking forward to telling Sheila that.

She was startled when Violet said crossly, “Don’t you start with this ghost business, Lizzie. I’ve had enough of it with Martin, and now Polly swears she saw something funny in the great hall. Wouldn’t tell me what it was, but I could tell it shook her up. Martin I can see, but Polly usually has more sense than that. Mind you, what with all those pipes rattling every time someone goes to the lavatory, it’s no wonder people start imagining things.”

Elizabeth gradually became aware of what Violet was saying. She looked up sharply. “Polly saw a ghost?”

Violet shrugged. “I don’t know that it was a ghost she saw, but she saw something odd, that I can tell you. ’Course, everyone knows there’s no such things as ghosts, don’t they?” She sent a nervous glance at Elizabeth. “Stuff and nonsense, that’s what I say.”

She didn’t sound too convinced, and Elizabeth did her best to reassure her. “There are no such things as ghosts, Violet, so you can stop worrying.”

Violet looked relieved. “I’m not worried at all.” She peered up at the clock again. “Where
is
that man? I’ll have to heat up his soup again.” She picked up the bowl and returned the contents to the pot.

“I’ve finished mine,” Elizabeth said, getting up from her chair. “I’ll find him on my way up to the office and tell him his lunch is ready.”

“His lunch is past ready,” Violet said grimly. “It’s on its way to the sink if he doesn’t hurry up. By the way, you never told me how you got on at the police station. They haven’t found that German yet, I suppose?”

“Not as far as I know.” Elizabeth paused at the door. “They’re still looking, of course. At least, the army is looking for him.”

“I wonder if they’ve run across Rita and her lot yet.”

“Rita and her troops had a change of heart about hunting down the German, lucky for him.”

“Go on! Not like Rita to give up on a chance to glorify herself. Mind you, it’s just as well. Anything could have happened with all those soldiers running around.”

“That’s exactly what I told them.”

Violet tilted her head to one side. “I had an idea you might be responsible for them changing their minds.”

“Someone had to do it, and the constables weren’t too cooperative.”

“Yes, but why does it always have to be you?” Violet wagged a finger at her. “You’ll get yourself into more trouble than you can handle one of these fine days, Lizzie. You see if you don’t.”

Elizabeth smiled. “You worry too much, Violet. After all, it’s my duty to watch over the villagers, and I’m very good at taking care of myself.”

“No woman is good at taking care of herself. You need a man to do that.”

“I tried that. Look where it landed me. If there’s one thing I don’t need in my life, it’s another man.” She left on those words, before Violet could give her any more argument.

It took her several minutes to find Martin. She finally spied him at the end of the great hall closest to the east wing. He stood at one of the tall, diamond-leaded windows, looking out at the neglected tennis court.

“He used to play there with your mother,” Martin said when she reached his side.

Feeling a rush of warmth for the elderly man, she wished that protocol would allow her to give him a hug. There was not the slightest doubt in her mind that had she done so, Martin would probably faint dead away at the outrage. “I know,” she said gently. “Both my parents loved to play tennis.”

“No one plays on the tennis court now.”

“Well, it’s not very serviceable right now. The net is broken, and the grass needs cutting and marking again.”

“He wants it repaired and spruced up.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Who does?”

“The master, of course. He was just here, telling me so. I think he misses playing tennis.”

Elizabeth glanced down the hall. It stretched the entire length of the house, and the far end was lost in shadows. Massive portraits of long-dead ancestors stared from their lofty perches on the walls with expressions varying from scowls to bored indifference. Not one of them smiled. If her portrait were to be hung alongside them, she would insist that she be smiling in it. No wonder people imagined they saw ghosts in such somber surroundings.

She looked the other way to the empty spaces still waiting. Her parents had sat for portraits shortly before their deaths. The massive paintings had been locked away for the past two years. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to look at them. Now she couldn’t remember if either of her parents had smiled in them. She would get them out, she decided, and have them hung where they belonged, alongside her grandparents, both of whom had passed away a few years ago. Her whole immediate family gone now. There were times when she felt like an orphan, left all alone in the world.

“Would you like me to see to it, madam?”

Jolted out of her thoughts, she stared at Martin. “See to what, Martin?”

“The tennis court, madam. I could spruce it up for the master.”

“Oh, if you like.” She eyed his frail body doubtfully. “Perhaps you can get Desmond to help. He’s supposed to be taking care of the grounds.”

Martin growled in his throat. “If you want my opinion madam, Desmond is about as useful in the grounds as a hole in an umbrella. I’ll take care of the matter myself.”

“As you wish.” Remembering why she was there, she added quickly, “Oh, Martin, your soup is getting cold in the kitchen. You’d better hurry down there before Violet throws it out.”

“Is it that time already?” Martin fumbled in his
waistcoat pocket and drew out a large, silver pocket watch. “My word, where does the time go? If you’ll excuse me, madam, I’ll trot along to the kitchen now.”

“Of course, Martin. Enjoy your lunch.” She watched him shuffle slowly along the blue and gold carpet, his bowed figure frowned upon by the disdainful images on the walls. He had given his life to this house and the family who had lived there. If believing he could see the ghost of Lord Nigel Hartleigh made him happy, then who was she to deprive him of his fantasy?

She had almost reached her office when Polly came flying down the hallway, her long, black hair tumbling about her flushed face. In the old days, Elizabeth thought, no maid would be allowed into the main house without her hair pinned and tucked securely under her cap. Polly had absolutely refused to wear a cap. Times had changed indeed.

“Lady Elizabeth!” Fighting for breath, Polly halted in front of her.

Her clothes were at least halfway presentable today. The plaid skirt and white blouse were quite respectable, and so much more becoming than those dreadful slacks the young girls lived in nowadays. Elizabeth bestowed a smile on the young maid. “What can I do for you, Polly?”

“Well, m’m, I just wanted to tell you that I rang all those numbers Violet give me—”

“Gave me,” Elizabeth corrected automatically.

“Sorry, m’m. Gave me. Anyhow, they all said as how they’d be at the meeting this afternoon. I got it all wrote down in a note on your desk.”

Elizabeth generously ignored the further slip in grammar. “Thank you, Polly. I appreciate your efforts.”

“Well, I was wondering, m’m, if you’ve given any more thought to me working in your office. I’m learning to talk proper now, and I’m getting really, really good at figures and writing letters, and I know I could manage all the bills. Violet showed me how to write out a check
for the bank, so I know how to do that now, and I can answer the telephone and ring people and set up appointments and do all that for you.”

Elizabeth frowned. She had to admit she could use the help, but she wasn’t at all sure she could trust Polly with her varied and sometimes complicated duties. “I suppose I could use you for an hour every day,” she said at last. “There’s a mountain of filing to be done, and you could start there.”

Polly nodded eagerly, her face wreathed in smiles. “I can do the filing, m’m. You just show me once, and I’ll know how to do it.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Very well, you can start tomorrow. Be in my office at half past eight.”

“Yes, m’m.” Polly poised to rush off.

“And Polly?”

“Yes, m’m?”

“You will still have to take care of the housework.”

“Yes, m’m.”

She had gone a few steps when Elizabeth stopped her again. “Oh, and Polly?”

This time the response came a little more warily. “Yes, m’m?”

“It’s talk
properly.
”

Polly grinned. “Yes,
ma’am
!”

The thoroughly American twang to the word made Elizabeth wince, but this time she let the young girl go. She had to ring Sheila Macclesby now to find out what was so urgent and she was dreading it.