Manor House 03 - For Whom Death Tolls (17 page)

She was having a good deal of trouble, however, wording her objections without raising unnecessary alarm. Finally she gave up, acknowledging that the concern uppermost in her mind was not the possibility of German bombers being attracted to the area by the fireworks, as much as the very real possibility that the contact receiving stolen goods from Kenny Morris could actually be her own housekeeper.

Until a few minutes ago, she hadn't dreamed there could be a connection between Kenny's murder and the flow of black market goods. Until then, the whole thing had seemed quite trivial, in the light of everything else going on, but now it had all suddenly turned serious. If Violet was involved, then it could be catastrophic for her.

There was only one way to find out. Elizabeth laid down her pen and, in spite of her concern, smiled at Earl's drawing of a Spitfire on her pink blotter. That was one piece of blotting paper she would never throw away.

She found Violet resting with her feet up by the stove, a magazine on her lap while her chin nodded on her chest. Her snore ended in a snort when Elizabeth touched her on the shoulder.

Instantly awake, Violet swung her feet to the floor. "What is it? Not Martin, is it?"

Elizabeth sat down opposite her. "Martin is fine, as far as I know. I want to talk to you about all the extra
food you've been serving up lately. Food that should be on ration."

Violet's face closed up. "I've been saving up the coupons, that's all."

"Violet, we could never have enough coupons to provide the amount of meat, eggs, and sugar you've been giving us lately. I need to know the truth. Where did you get all this food?"

"I've been trading with some of the villagers. Lots of people don't use up their coupons. Some of them don't eat meat and some can't afford it."

It was time for some straight talking, Elizabeth decided. "Violet, the American investigators have discovered that Kenny Morris was supplying someone in the village with goods stolen from the base. They are looking for that contact right now. If you are connected to this in any way, you could well be involved in a murder investigation. You must tell me the truth, Violet. I can't help you if I don't know what you've done."

Violet's eyes had been growing wider throughout this speech. As Elizabeth paused, she burst out, "I never had anything to do with Kenny Morris. I swear on my life I didn't."

Wanting desperately to believe her, Elizabeth demanded, "Then where did you get all that food?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. I swore I wouldn't tell."

"Violet, you have to tell me. Someone has been killed, possibly because of this black market thing, and you could be in an awful lot of trouble. You must tell me."

For a long moment Violet stared at her, then, her voice low, she muttered, "It was Percy. I got the extra stuff under the counter from Percy."

Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes, remembering again the green straw she'd seen in Percy's display counter. "I was afraid of that."

"You don't think Percy killed that man, do you?" Vi
olet jumped up, sending the magazine to the floor. "He wouldn't hurt a fly. Not Percy. I've known him since we were kids. More than fifty years. He couldn't kill a man like that. He couldn't even go after that German pilot that landed here a few weeks ago. He's dead against the war. He's always telling me that violence doesn't solve anything."

"Calm down, Violet, I'm not accusing Percy of anything." Elizabeth got up from her chair and held her chilly hands close to the stove to warm them. "He is obviously involved in all of this, however, and the investigators are bound to question him."

"Are you going to tell them?"

Elizabeth avoided Violet's accusing eyes. "Not until I've had a chance to talk to him. I'll stop by the shop in the morning. I have to speak to him anyway about the cricket lesson tomorrow night."

"You won't tell him I told you? I swore I wouldn't."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It really doesn't matter, Violet. Percy was doing something wrong. He knew the risk he was taking. Sooner or later the truth would have come out."

"Maybe not," Violet said soberly. "Since he's not doing it anymore. He told me he can't get any more under-the-counter stuff."

Elizabeth met her worried gaze. "Now that Kenny is no longer alive to supply him."

"That doesn't mean he killed him."

"But he may know who did."

"Oh, crikey," Violet whispered.

Elizabeth let out her breath. "Try not to worry. I'll talk to him tomorrow and let's hope we are jumping to conclusions."

She changed the subject then, determined not to dwell on the subject until she'd had a chance to talk with Percy. But her heart was heavy with worry when she
retired that night. She hated to think that someone living in the peaceful village of Sitting Marsh could be responsible for the violent death of an American airman. Apparently all in the name of greed.

CHAPTER

13

The following day Elizabeth rode her motorcycle into town, hoping to avoid the early-morning rush of shoppers. Much to her relief, only three customers remained in the grocer's shop when she arrived there. Unfortunately, one of them happened to be Rita Crumm.

Percy greeted Elizabeth when she walked in, then went back to stacking cans of soup on the shelves.

Flanked by two of her regular cronies, Marge and Florrie, Rita stood at the bacon counter and gave Elizabeth a derogatory smile. "Something wrong with Violet, your ladyship?" she inquired, her booming voice loud enough to be heard halfway down the street.

Elizabeth frowned. "Violet? Not as far as I know. She seemed perfectly healthy when she served up breakfast this morning."

Rita peered down her nose. She was an unusually tall woman, which gave her a definite advantage when attempting
to look haughty. Since she deemed everyone in the village beneath her consideration, and that included the lady of the manor, she spent a good deal of her time attempting to look haughty.

"Well," she said, with what Elizabeth considered a somewhat vulgar sniff, "I was just wondering, since this is the second time you've been in this shop and you don't usually do your own shopping."

The envy in her voice was obvious. Elizabeth was quite aware that Rita would give up her only daughter if it meant having a housekeeper. The fact that Lily Crumm was every bit as objectionable as her mother would prove her no great loss in Elizabeth's opinion. "And I'm not doing any shopping now," she informed Rita. "This is purely a social visit. I assume you have no objection to that?"

Having had the wind taken out of her sails, so to speak, Rita's eyes glittered. "It's not my place to object, Lady Elizabeth. I was simply commenting on the rare occasion one sees you inside a shop. I was concerned about Violet's health, that's all."

"How very kind of you." Elizabeth smiled sweetly at her. "I'll be certain to pass on your concern. I'm quite sure Violet will be as flabbergasted as I am."

Rita tossed her head, but apparently decided to ignore the barb. "I expect you'd like to know that the pavilion has been thoroughly spring-cleaned, your ladyship. It's sparkling. You won't even recognize it."

"Well, thank you so much, ladies." Elizabeth beamed at Florrie and Marge, both of whom glanced at Rita before murmuring almost in unison, "Pleasure, your ladyship."

"We shall all be in attendance this evening to watch the cricket lesson," Rita announced, much to Elizabeth's dismay.

She tried to sound indifferent when she answered, "Oh, really? I shouldn't think it would be too exciting."

"Whenever there are Yanks around," Florrie said with a lecherous wink, "there's always some excitement."

"Shut up, Florrie," Rita said rudely. "We're not there to gape at the Yanks. We're taking refreshments down there for them. Lemonade and cream soda."

"If you ask me, them Yanks would much rather have a glass of beer," Marge said daringly.

"Well, if they want beer, they'll have to blinking bring it themselves." Rita coughed. "If you'll excuse my French, m'm."

"You're excused," Elizabeth said cheerfully. "But really, there's no need to make a fuss. We'll simply be trying to teach the Americans how to play the game, that's all. They won't actually play until the match on Wednesday."

"I don't know how much they'll learn in an hour or two, m'm," Percy put in from the back of the shop. "Not much time to teach someone the finer points of the game."

"I don't think they are expecting to become experts at it, Percy." Elizabeth smiled at him. "Just do your best. I'm sure the Americans will be grateful for any pointers you can give them."

"Well," Rita announced, her tone clearly indicating that she'd become bored with the conversation, "I can't stand around and chatter like this all day. I have more important things to do. Good day to you, Lady Elizabeth. We will see you tonight at the cricket field."

Not if I can help it, Elizabeth thought grimly. She watched Rita sweep out of the shop, followed dutifully by her two unwilling handmaidens.

Percy shook his head and came toward her. "Don't pay them any attention, your ladyship. Bored, that's what they are. Do them all good to get a job at the factory. I hear they're begging for help down there."

Elizabeth laughed. "Somehow I can't imagine Rita wrapping her head in a scarf and clambering over an
airplane wielding a blowtorch. She'd terrorize everyone around her."

"Likely she would at that, m'm." Percy joined in her laughter, then wiped his hands on his apron. "So what can I do for you today, your ladyship? If you came to ask me if I'll be at the cricket lesson, I wouldn't miss it. Love the game meself, though I haven't played in a good many years."

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd care to help umpire the match on Wednesday. Captain Carbunkle has offered his services as well, though his attention span can be somewhat limited. I'd appreciate it if you could spare the time?"

Percy looked surprised, but nodded eagerly. "Love to, m'm. Wednesday is half-closing, so there won't be no problem. I'll have to brush up on the old laws a bit, but that won't take long. You can count on me."

"Thank you, Percy. I knew you wouldn't let me down." Now that the time had come to question him about the black market trade, she was suddenly at a loss for words. What if he had been Kenny's contact? If so, then he could well have killed the man. It was very unlikely that he would tell her so, but if he couldn't deny it to her satisfaction, then she would be honor bound to go to the authorities and tell them what she knew.

She wished now that she had left well alone, and let the American investigators solve the case. But then Earl had asked for her help, and she had promised to see what she could do. She owed it to him to see this through, even if it meant betraying a trusted friend and resident of Sitting Marsh. How she hated the thought of that.

Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the worst. "Percy, there's something I need to talk to you about."

His smile vanished immediately, to be replaced by a wary frown. "Sounds serious, your ladyship. Nothing I've done, I hope?"

"Well, that's what I need you to tell me." Elizabeth
glanced apprehensively at the door, but now that it was the lunch hour, the main street was practically deserted.

Percy stared at her for several seconds. "Well, perhaps it is time we had a little talk," he said finally.

She watched him walk over to the door and close it. A prickling feeling touched her spine when he also twisted the key in the lock, and swung the O
PEN
notice around to C
LOSED
. "Now we won't be disturbed, m'm," he added quietly.

Heart pounding uncomfortably, Elizabeth watched him walk behind the counter. "I won't keep you a minute, Percy," she said hurriedly. "There's no need to lock the door."

"Oh, I always lock it at lunchtime, m'm." Percy picked up a large carving knife and ran his thumb slowly down the razor-sharp blade. "Gives me some time to meself, you see."

Something cold slithered down Elizabeth's back. Her lips felt quite dry when she said faintly, "Maybe this isn't a good time after all. Why don't we talk tonight at the cricket field. I have several errands to run—"

"No, your ladyship. Now is the right time." Sunlight glinted on the wicked blade as Percy raised the knife to his shoulder.

With a measuring glance at the door, she backed carefully away from the counter.

The vicious-looking weapon hovered in the air, then with a swift, savage thrust, Percy slammed the lethal blade down. It hit the board with a sickening thud.

Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth as she uttered a frightened little squeak.

Percy looked up with a smile. "Care for a slice of Gorgonzola, your ladyship? Off the ration, of course. Just don't tell anyone." With a wink he held out a chunk of the blue-veined cheese.

Feeling foolish, Elizabeth took the offering with a trembling hand and bit off a small piece. Her heart still
thumped uneasily against her ribs, and she had difficulty swallowing the tangy-tasting morsel. By the time she had finally choked it down, Percy had laid down the knife.

He took a bite out of the chunk of cheese in his hand, then came around the counter. "Here," he said, offering her a couple of water biscuits, "these will go down good with it."

"Thank you." She coughed, cleared her throat, and took the biscuits from him. "Actually, it was the rationing thing I rather wanted to talk to you about."

Percy's eyebrows raised, his expression one of pure innocence. "Rationing, m'm?"

Elizabeth nodded. There was no point in beating about the bush now. She had to finish what she'd started. "It's come—" She broke off, appalled to hear the overly high-pitched note in her voice. Once more she cleared her throat, and tried again. "It has come to my attention, Percy, that you may have been supplying certain members of this community with under-the-counter goods."

Her shattered nerves had made her sound overly stern, and Percy frowned. "Who told you that, m'm?"

"It really doesn't matter who told me, does it. Just tell me if it's true or not."