Manor House 03 - For Whom Death Tolls (3 page)

"Which wouldn't make a whole lot of sense anyway, if you think about it," Earl murmured.

Elizabeth raised her hand as a babble of voices arose from the crowd. "I would like to know which one of you raised the alarm, however. I'm sure it was well-intentioned, so don't be embarrassed to admit it. It would help put our minds at ease to know who it was, and why."

Silence greeted her question as everyone looked blankly at one another.

"I was one of the first to get here, m'm." Percy Bodkins, the grocer, raised his hand. "I didn't see no one come out of the church."

"That's right, your ladyship. He was here when I got here." Bessie Bartholomew, the plump and jovial owner of the bake shop and tea room, pumped her head up and down. " 'T were only Percy, Rita, Clara and her lads, and the vicar when I got here."

A white-haired man in a shabby raincoat pushed his way forward. The collar at his throat gleamed white in the moonlight, and reflected on the thick lenses of his glasses. "Lady Elizabeth, I don't know who rang the bells, but whoever it was must have run off afterward. Just a prank, I'm thinking."

"You're probably right, Reverend." Elizabeth nodded at the vicar. "Perhaps we should take a quick look in the
bell tower, however. I would hate to think that someone would do any damage to the church, but I would feel better if we inspected the tower, just in case."

"Well, I don't know how much we can see in the dark," the Reverend Roland Cumberland said doubtfully. "Perhaps we should wait until morning. There are no lights in there—"

"Here," Sam said, reaching into the jeep. "I've got a flashlight."

The vicar looked confused. "Flashlight?"

"He means a torch," a young voice said helpfully.

Elizabeth watched Polly step forward and stand close to Sam. She gazed up at him with adoration shining in her face. Sam looked as if he didn't quite know what to say, but then was spared of saying anything when a thin woman stepped up and pulled on Polly's arm. "Come on, my girl, it's high time you went home to bed."

"Aw, Ma!" Polly kept her gaze on Sam. "See you tomorrow?"

The young man seemed embarrassed but gave her a quick nod.

Polly blew him a kiss, then, still grumbling, allowed her mother to lead her off down the road, with Marlene dragging behind them.

Earl switched on the flashlight and pointed it at the church. "Okay, let's take a look." He waved a hand at the small group of Americans. "You guys get back to the house. There's nothing more you can do here."

He waited until the officers had pulled away in the jeep before leading the way into the churchyard. "Is the tower locked?" he asked as he paused in front of the heavy wooden door.

The vicar shook his head. "There's no need. There isn't anything in there to steal, unless someone wants to cart away the bells."

"They'd have to get them down first," Elizabeth remarked. She stood behind Earl Monroe's broad back,
enjoying the feeling of security his presence gave her.

Earl stretched out a hand and pushed on the door. It groaned in protest, then swung open with a loud creak.

Elizabeth peered over Earl's shoulder as the beam of his flashlight swept over the floor, then the walls. Something scuttled away in the darkness, and at the same moment, a loud screech and a flapping of wings from the tower above sent a shiver down Elizabeth's back.

"Owl, your ladyship," the vicar remarked in her ear, making her jump.

Earl stepped into the tower, then made his way across the damp floorboards that squeaked with every step. Elizabeth followed, though much more slowly, while the reverend brought up the rear.

The door of the inner tower creaked open and Earl stepped through, the wide, bright shaft of light sweeping the floor in front of him. Then he stopped short, so suddenly, Elizabeth bumped into him, and the strangled sound he uttered made her blood run cold.

"What is it?"

Her fierce whisper sounded loud as it bounced off the walls, but Earl seemed not to hear. He was staring at the corner of the room, where the beam of light trembled on a dark shape hanging from the bell rope.

The vicar muttered something under his breath and started praying.

At first, Elizabeth thought it was a sack of corn. She looked closer, then bit her tongue as her teeth clamped down on a scream. It wasn't a sack at all. It was a young man, and judging from his blank, staring eyes, and the way his tongue protruded horribly from his mouth, he was beyond any help they could give him.

Earl insisted on driving Elizabeth home, promising to take her back the next morning to retrieve her motorcycle. He waited until the door opened, embarrassing Elizabeth no end when Martin appeared waving the an
cient rusted blunderbuss that had been the centerpiece of her father's gun collection.

Violet, who had apparently heard the jeep arrive, was also at the door, trying in vain to convince the befuddled butler that they were not being attacked by the Germans. In all the confusion, Earl quietly left, without giving Elizabeth the opportunity to say a proper good night to him.

The Americans had their own entrance into the east wing where they were quartered, though Elizabeth often suggested that Earl use the main entrance rather than walk around the vast building to the east door. This was one night in particular when she would have preferred his company for a while longer.

Still shaken, she accepted Violet's offer of hot cocoa, then sat in the kitchen to drink it while she recounted the night's events. Fortunately Martin, once he had been assured that there were no signs of an invasion, had chosen to return to his bed.

Violet, of course, was horrified that Elizabeth had been exposed to such a terrible experience. "Do you know who he was?" She stared at Elizabeth with eyes as big as saucers. "Who would do such a thing?"

Elizabeth sighed. "The young man was an American officer. His name was Kenny Morris. Earl recognized him, though I don't know how." She shuddered. "His face was horribly distorted."

"Ugh!" Violet wrapped her fingers around her mug. "An American? Oh, blimey, that'll cause problems for us. I'm willing to bet on that."

"I'm afraid you might be right. Knowing how many of the villagers feel about the Americans, it does rather make things look bad for them."

"Maybe he hung himself."

"I don't think so. His feet were on the ground with his knees buckled."

"You don't think one of our blokes did it, do you?"

"I don't know." Elizabeth looked miserably at her housekeeper. "There is so much fighting going on at the Tudor Arms, I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone got really hurt."

Violet shook her head. "Doesn't make sense. I always thought it was just a bunch of chaps blowing off steam. I never dreamed it would come to murdering each other. What did George and Sid say?"

"Not much. They didn't arrive until we were leaving the church."

"Not much good as policemen, are they? Those two are always the last to know when something bad happens."

Inwardly Elizabeth agreed. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to defend the inept village constables. "Sid didn't hear the bells. He's hard of hearing and as you know, he lives alone. It took George some time to wake him up. By the time they rode their bicycles into the village, almost everyone had gone home."

"As usual." Violet made a sound of disgust. "So no one knows what happened."

"All we know is that Kenny Morris was apparently strangled with a bell rope. We don't know when, why, or by whom. I imagine the constables will sort things out."

Violet grunted. "Don't count on it. What about the Americans? If it's one of theirs, won't they want to investigate the murder?"

"I suppose they will. Earl will be giving them a report in the morning and make arrangements to collect the body. I feel so awful about the poor parents. Imagine worrying about your son being shot down in an airplane, and then finding out he'd been murdered. What a terrible tragedy." She drained the last of her cocoa. "I'm really tired, Violet. I must go back to bed. I have to meet with Mr. Forrester in a few hours and I need to make a good impression."

"Seems to me he's the one who needs to make a good impression." Violet tipped her head to one side. "You can always make an excuse not to show the house, you know. After all, now that we have Americans billeted here, that makes a difference."

Elizabeth gave her a tired smile. "I'd like to do that, Violet, but we really do need the money."

"I suppose you're right." Violet patted her on the shoulder. "Go to bed, Lizzie. I'll see you in the morning."

Elizabeth needed no second bidding. The moment her head touched the pillow, she was sound asleep, and she didn't wake up until long after the sun had cleared the tops of the elm trees lining the driveway.

"I don't think I'll have time to take the dogs out this morning," she told Violet, as she sat rather wearily at the kitchen table later. "Mr. Forrester will be arriving in less than an hour."

She noticed with concern the dark shadows under Violet's eyes when the housekeeper turned from the stove. "Don't worry." Violet stifled a yawn. "Polly took them out when she got here."

Elizabeth's eyebrows raised. "Polly? She usually buries herself in the office as soon as she gets here. Ever since I told her she could assist me in there, she's practically taken over. I must admit, I didn't think she would be all that much help."

"Don't I know it." Violet carried a plate of sausage, eggs, fried tomatoes, and crisp fried bread to the table. "She's getting a little too big for her boots, if you ask me. She told me the other day she doesn't have time to clean the bathrooms properly, now that she's got all the office work to do."

"Oh, dear." Elizabeth bit into a piece of toast. "Perhaps we should think about hiring another housemaid."

"Good luck with that. No one wants to clean houses
anymore. They're all working in the factories or on the land."

"Surely there must still be some people willing to do housework."

"The only way you'll get someone is to give them room and board, like you do me and Martin. That way you could get someone down from London. There must be a lot of women anxious to get out of there with all the bombing going on."

"I suppose you're right." Elizabeth sighed. "I'll look into it, though I'm not sure we can afford it."

"Maybe Polly will take less money if she doesn't have to do the housework."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask her."

"Well, you'd better wait for a day or two. She's really upset about that murder last night."

"I'm not surprised." Elizabeth picked up her knife and fork. "Murder is upsetting to everyone."

"Especially when you know the poor devil."

Elizabeth stared at her housekeeper. "Polly knew Kenny Morris?"

"So did that American officer she's always hanging around with . . . Sam, I think it is."

"Sam Cutter? How do you know about this?"

"Polly told me, didn't she." Violet sat down at the table. "What's more, she told me that Sam and this Kenny person had a big fight in the Tudor Arms on Saturday night. She wouldn't say what over, but I got the idea she was mixed up in it somehow."

Elizabeth slowly put down her knife and fork. "Sam was fighting with Kenny Morris?"

Violet nodded, her face clouded with worry. "You don't think Polly will be in trouble, do you?"

"I hope not." Elizabeth rose from her chair. "But I think I'd better have a word with her straight away." She didn't voice her fears aloud, but she knew by Vio
let's expression that her housekeeper shared her concern. Maybe it was a coincidence that Kenny Morris died the night after having a fight with Sam Cutter. And maybe not.

CHAPTER

3

Elizabeth heard the shrill ring of the telephone before she reached the door of her study. Polly must have picked it up almost immediately, since she didn't hear it ring again. By the time she'd opened the door, Polly had replaced the receiver in its cradle.

"Oh, there you are, m'm," she exclaimed, as Elizabeth entered the cluttered room. "I was just telling the major—"

Elizabeth cut her off with a sharp exclamation. "That was Major Monroe? Did he say what he wanted?"

Polly shook her dark head. "No, m'm. Just that he wanted to speak to you. I offered to come and get you, but he said he had to go, but he'd ring back later."

Disappointed at having missed a chance to talk to Earl, Elizabeth picked up the stack of invoices from the tray. "Thank you, Polly. I suppose we should sort these out and see which ones we can pay this month."

"Yes, m'm."

Polly sounded subdued, and not at all her usual ebullient self. Elizabeth sat down on the roomy armchair by the window and tried not to sound too concerned when she said, "Violet tells me you knew the young man we found murdered in the church tower last night."

Polly jumped as if she'd been stung. "I didn't know him really. Just sort of met him once. Well . . . I didn't meet him, neither. He just spoke to me, that's all."

Elizabeth studied her secretary's red face. "It's all right, Polly. I'm not accusing you of doing anything wrong. I was just wondering if you heard anything that could help us find out what happened to him."

Polly shook her head so violently, a couple of hairpins fell from her dark hair to the desk. "I don't know nothing, m'm. Honest I don't."

"Violet says that nice young American Sam Cutter knew him as well."

Polly's flush deepened. "Well, I s'pose he would, seeing as how they are in the same unit."

"I think it's a little more than that, isn't it, Polly?" Elizabeth asked gently.

Polly nodded miserably.

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

Elizabeth listened carefully as Polly described the scene down at the Tudor Arms.

"So you didn't see Sam after the fight, then?"

"No, m'm, I didn't. But I know my Sam would never do nothing like killing someone. I just know he wouldn't, that's all."

Elizabeth leaned back in the chair and sighed. "I hope you're right, Polly. I'd hate to think that you were involved with someone who could get you into a lot of trouble."