Manor House 03 - For Whom Death Tolls (16 page)

"Tell you what." He opened the door and ushered her through with a warm hand on her back. "I left a bottle of brandy down in the kitchen with Violet. Why don't we have a drop of that instead."

She sighed with pleasure. "Major, while I frown on accepting merchandise from the base, in this case I'll be happy to make an exception."

Seated in the conservatory a few minutes later, she had to admit the brandy tasted marvelous and did wonders for her sense of well-being. Or maybe it was the sight of Earl seated across from her that made her feel so utterly content.

"I hope we've seen the last of that man," she said, transferring her gaze to the dancing flames in the fireplace. "Such an unpleasant creature."

"So I hear. Sam was so sure he was the one who killed Kenny Morris."

"I was rather hoping he'd be arrested for the murder myself." Elizabeth held her brandy glass in both hands and swirled the golden liquid around to warm it. "I was quite surprised when he rang to say he was coming back down here."

"From what I heard, Forrester told the investigators his car broke down near the church after the poker game. He told them he walked back to the pub that night, leaving his car by the side of the road, then went back the next morning to fix it himself before driving back to London."

"And they are convinced he's telling the truth?"

Earl shrugged. "Hard to say. The problem, I guess, is that it's tough to prove, one way or the other."

"But they can't prove it was Sam, either."

"Maybe not. But they're going to be a lot more careful about accusing a British citizen of murder than they are holding under suspicion an officer in the United States Army Air Force."

"I suppose so. How long can they hold Sam without a trial?"

"As long as they want, I reckon."

She met his gaze. "Who do you think is more capable of murder?"

"I honestly don't know. Forrester's a jerk, but I don't know if he'd kill someone any more than Sam would."

"What we need is proof."

"That would help."

Pure instinct made her lean forward and touch his hand. "I'll do my best to find it for you."

He turned his palm up and clasped her fingers for a precious moment or two. "Stay out of trouble, Elizabeth. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

And that, she thought happily, was the very best thing he could possibly have said.

CHAPTER

12

As Elizabeth left the church the next morning, the Reverend Roland Cumberland beckoned her to one side. "I'm giving you this back, Lady Elizabeth," he said, handing her the silver comb. "I've asked all my parishioners if anyone recognizes it, and no one seems to have seen it before. Perhaps it was dropped by a visitor in the village. In any case, I think you should have it."

"Thank you, Vicar." Elizabeth opened her handbag and slipped the comb inside. "If anyone should ask for it, I'll be happy to return it."

The vicar nodded. "I don't think anyone will. Not after all this time. You haven't heard anything more about the murder, I suppose?"

"I'm sorry to say I haven't." Elizabeth glanced over at the bell tower. "Are they still on guard over there?"

"Not for much longer, thank heavens." The vicar peered up at the bells. "I was told this morning that the
tower would be vacated by the investigators by the end of the week."

"How nice. Then you won't have to worry about summoning your congregation to worship."

She was on her way back to the Manor House when an idea came to her. After precariously turning her motorcycle around in a narrow lane, she headed back the way she had come. She had noticed Marlene and Polly in the crowd leaving the church, and hoped to catch up with them before they had time to reach their house.

It wasn't long before she spotted the sisters walking along the coast road, accompanied by their mother. All three women turned to look at her as she roared up behind them and spluttered to a stop.

Polly looked worried, and asked immediately, "Is Sam all right, your ladyship?"

Elizabeth smiled. "As far as I know, Polly. At least if he's confined to barracks, you know he's not flying over Germany right now."

Polly nodded, though she didn't appear to consider that much compensation.

Edna tutted. "Really, I don't know what's got into the girl, your ladyship. Always worrying about a blinking Yank. If you ask me, they're big enough and bold enough to take care of themselves."

"I doubt if the Americans are any less vulnerable than we are when it comes to risking their lives in the skies," Elizabeth commented.

Edna had the grace to sound contrite when she said hurriedly, "Oh, of course, m'm. You know I didn't mean anything by it."

Elizabeth took the comb out of her handbag and showed it to Marlene. "I found this in the churchyard a few days ago. I was wondering if perhaps you might recognize it as belonging to one of your customers?"

Watched curiously by Polly and her mother, Marlene took the comb and turned it over in her hands. "It's not
one of my customers, I can tell you that. I know that nobody what comes into my shop would have hair in this condition." She pointed to the gray hairs in the teeth. "Look at it. It's as dry as straw."

"And you are absolutely sure you've never seen the comb before?"

"Never set eyes on it until this moment, your ladyship. I'd know it again in an instant if I had."

Thanking her, Elizabeth took the comb and dropped it into her handbag.

"I want to thank you, m'm," Edna said earnestly, "for giving our Polly a job in your office. She's been a different girl these past weeks, that she has. At least she was until this latest murder business with the Yank."

Polly scowled. "Aw, Ma, don't go on about it."

"Well, I must say, your daughter is doing an excellent job," Elizabeth assured her, and was immediately rewarded with a dazzling smile from Polly.

"Am I, m'm? Really? I do try hard, really I do."

"I know you do, Polly. I want you to know I rang London the other day. They'll be sending down some replacements for interviews soon. That should make things easier for you."

Polly beamed. "Thank you, m'm. I won't let you down, I promise."

"Yes, well, now I must be off." Bidding them all farewell, Elizabeth started the engine and took off into the brisk sea wind. Another dead end. Much as she hated to admit defeat, it didn't seem as though she could be of any help to Earl and Sam Cutter after all.

Her spirits sank even lower when she returned to the manor to find Violet still in a foul mood. After watching her housekeeper smack bowls of soup on the table hard enough to spill their contents, she decided it was time to intervene.

"This smells very good, Violet," she said, picking up her spoon. "What is it?"

"Vegetable soup," Violet muttered. "All I could manage today. It's getting impossible to find decent food in the shop anymore."

Elizabeth refrained from commenting, though she did wonder if perhaps the source of under-the-counter goods had finally dried up, which would explain the return to frugal meals and the demise of Violet's good temper.

Making up her mind to ask her housekeeper later, she finished off the soup, then retired to her office to spend the afternoon catching up on her paperwork.

"Get that hair dry before you go out, my girl," Edna yelled, as Polly headed up the narrow hallway to the front door. "You'll catch your death of pneumonia if you don't."

"Aw, Ma!" Polly halted, scowling at her mother over her shoulder. "I washed it nearly an hour ago. It's got to be dry by now."

Edna marched up to her young daughter and laid a hand on her dark tresses. "Exactly what I thought, it's sopping wet. Get your blinking head down in front of that fireplace and dry it all off this minute."

Grumbling and complaining, Polly threw off her coat and slunk into the living room, where flames licked at a pile of glowing coals in the fireplace. She sank to her knees and lowered her chin until her hair hung like a silky curtain in front of the blue-tinged flames.

"Don't know why we can't have one of them hair dryers like Marlene's got in her shop," she muttered.

Edna, who had followed Polly into the room to make sure the girl did as she was ordered, let out a loud snort. "Just where do you think we'd get the money for one of those machines? Must cost a blinking fortune."

"Marlene could snitch one from the shop. They'd never know where it had gone."

"Watch your tongue, my girl. I won't have you talking about stealing like some common little guttersnipe. What
on earth has got into you, Polly? It's them Yanks, that's what it is. Teaching you all this stuff about stealing and murder and the like. They all ought to be locked up, that's what I say."

"Oh, yeah?" Polly tilted her head so she could look at her mother through her parted hair. "Then who's going to shoot down the Germans for us?"

Edna tossed her head. "Our boys are quite capable of shooting down Germans. We don't need no Yanks."

"If it hadn't been for the Yanks," Polly said bluntly, "we'd all be dead. The Germans would have flattened this village by now."

"I never heard such nonsense—" Edna broke off as the loud rapping on the door echoed down the hallway. "Now who could that be?"

"You won't know unless you answer it." Polly let out her breath on a frustrated sigh as her mother hurried from the room. It seemed like she could do nothing right for her ma anymore. Ever since she started going with Sam, Ma had been on her back, nagging and carrying on about it.

Polly swung her head to the other side to expose the wet side of it to the fire. Well, no matter what Ma said or did, she was never going to give up on Sam. Not even if he was sent back to America. She'd write to him, and stay true to him forever. Even if she never saw him again.

Before she could stop it a tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto the fireplace. She dashed away the next one with the back of her hand. It wouldn't do to let Ma see her crying.

The sound of voices in the hallway reached her ears and she raised her head. Ma was talking to a man. For a minute her heart stopped. Surely those investigators weren't coming back to talk to her again? The man's voice grew louder, and she froze, her heart skipping madly now.

It sounded like Sam's voice.

Hardly daring to believe it, she scrambled to her feet and stared at the open doorway, afraid to move. Then a tall figure filled the frame. With an ear-splitting scream of joy she threw herself into Sam's waiting arms.

Earl stopped by Elizabeth's office on his way to a briefing that afternoon. As always, she was pleasurably disturbed by his presence, and overlooked the fact that he displaced her stack of unpaid bills when he perched a hip on her desk.

Normally she would never allow such a lack of decorum. In fact, had it been anyone but Earl, she would have been highly offended that anyone would take such liberties as to sit on her desk. After all, what good were chairs if one didn't use them.

Somehow, because it was Earl, none of that seemed to matter. He was American, and if that was what Americans did, then it was all right with her. Just as long as he used the proper respect in public. Which he always did, of course.

If she were totally honest with herself, she'd admit that she found his familiarity rather stimulating. Under any other circumstances, she might have quite enjoyed flying in the face of convention. Unfortunately, she owed it to her ancestors to act with the proper decorum at all times. There were definite disadvantages to being the lady of the manor.

"Just wanted to let you know there might be a break in the case," Earl told her, as she gingerly moved her inkwell away from his thigh. "It looks as if Kenny Morris was dealing in black market merchandise. The investigators learned that he was transporting supplies stolen from the base to a contact in the village—probably a local."

Thoroughly jolted, Elizabeth stared at him. "Kenny Morris had a contact? Do they know who it is?"

Earl picked up a pencil and began doodling on her blotter. "Not yet, but they're working on it. They're real anxious to talk to the guy. The other good news is that they've released Sam Cutter from CB. I guess they didn't have enough evidence to hold him after all."

"Oh, I'm so glad. Polly will be so relieved."

"He's not out of the woods yet, by any means. Until we can find out who killed Kenny, Sam will still be under suspicion. But at least he's back on duty. Though I'm not sure he's any better off."

Something in his voice sent a chill through Elizabeth. "Is something going on?"

"Nothing I can talk about." He threw down the pencil and got up from the desk. "I'm still hoping we can all make the cricket lesson tomorrow evening."

"Good." She managed a smile as she rose to see him out. "I believe Percy Bodkins will be there, and Alfie from the Tudor Arms, since it's his night off. Oh, and Captain Carbunkle has promised to offer his services."

Earl raised his eyebrows. "Army captain?"

"Merchant navy, retired. He used to captain a cricket eleven at one time, I believe. He's on the village council. He's a bit of a chatterbox, and can bore you to tears with his sea stories, but he means well."

Earl grinned. "Sounds like a blast. I'm looking forward to it." He glanced at his watch, then opened the door. "Gotta run. Will you be there tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Till tomorrow, then."

He pulled on his cap and turned to go, pausing when she said urgently, "Earl?"

He looked back at her, his eyes questioning.

"Please, be careful."

"Always." He touched the peak of his cap, and then he was gone, leaving an empty ache of worry in her heart.

She sat for several minutes at her desk, trying to con
centrate on the village councillors' suggestion that they reinstate the bonfire and fireworks celebrations on Guy Fawkes night. The annual tradition had been halted, thanks to the risk of enemy bombers strafing the villagers who would be illuminated in the light of the flames.

Although the threat had diminished somewhat since the Blitz, the blackout was still in full force, and Elizabeth could not justify taking the risk for the sake of a few fireworks.