No Known Grave (32 page)

“No news, I presume?”

“Not exactly, but we found this.” Tyler showed her the lipstick tube. “Is this Shirley’s?”

Mrs. McHattie took it from him and examined it carefully. Her face turned even whiter. “Could be. Coty’s
CHERRY RED
. She did use that sometimes. Where was it?”

“Near the riverbank, at the end of the public footpath.”

“I see.” She held the lipstick in her palm. She knew what the implication was. “You think she went to meet someone, don’t you?”

He paused and looked into the fear in the woman’s eyes. “If she went freely, there’s much more likelihood she isn’t harmed.”

“What if she fell into the river in the dark? Or got pushed in?”

“There’s no indication of that. My guess is that she got into a boat. There were marks on the riverbank.”

“A boat! What bloody boat?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to have my officers search the river.”

He waited for Mrs. McHattie to digest this information, then continued.

“As you know we don’t have much manpower in the police force these days. If we are going to treat this as a missing persons case – or an abduction – I’m going to have to use what men I do have as efficiently as possible. If Shirley went to meet somebody, she took nothing with her. No extra
clothes, for instance. She must have intended to return last night and …” He paused, reluctant to voice the thought. “For some reason she’s not able to. So I must ask you again, do you know why Shirley would have gone off the way she appears to have gone off? She was secretive about it and she took her lipstick, as if she were meeting somebody. Somebody she wanted to look good for.”

Mrs. McHattie didn’t answer.

“Alfie Fuller says that Shirley was hiding messages in the wall,” said Tyler quietly. “She was in contact with somebody on a regular basis.”

“What? Alfie Fuller told you that? He’s a loony. You can’t believe a word he says.”

“He showed me the hiding place and he claims the messages had to do with assignations. I must ask you again, do you have any idea who your daughter might have been communicating with?”

Mrs. McHattie had collapsed back into her chair. “No, I don’t.”

“Could she have made contact with her lover, the father of her baby?”

She looked up, startled. “What? Of course not.”

“Why are you so certain?”

“I told you, he was sent overseas months ago.”

“He might just have been stringing you all a line. Maybe he’s a cook in an army canteen.”

She actually smiled wanly at that. “No, that’s one thing I did believe about him. He was definitely a fighting man.”

“How did the two of them meet?” Tyler asked.

“A dance, where else? She fell for him right away. Hook, line, and sinker. I’ve never seen a girl so mad for a bloke. She brought him home to see us the very next weekend. She’d never done that with any of her fellas before.”

She halted, remembering.

“And you didn’t like him?” Tyler prompted her.

“Neither of us did. Jock kept insisting he wasn’t who he said he was.”

“What did he mean?”

“He couldn’t really explain, but Jock, being blind, was sensitive to people’s voices and how they talked. He picked up things all the time that went right past me. He was dead against the bloke.”

“I understand Shirley is planning to give her baby up for adoption?”

“Yes. It’s better that way. She’s far too young to take proper care of a babe all on her own. The almoner has said she’ll find us somebody suitable.”

“What if the baby’s father does return and wants to marry your daughter?”

“He should have done that before he got her pregnant, shouldn’t he? Besides, he’s a foreigner. We didn’t fancy her getting married to a foreigner.”

“Where was he from?”

“He wouldna say. Another secret, according to him. Spoke good English and was very polite. Too polite, in my opinion. You know the type. Butter wouldna melt in his mouth.”

“Shirley told me she didn’t know his surname.”

Mrs. McHattie scowled. “It probably suited him that Shirley would have a hard time tracing him. He’s most likely got an entire harem scattered around Britain.”

“You mentioned that he was training at a special camp. Did you meet any of the others? Any of his friends?”

“No, just him. He kept saying they was all hand-picked, cream de la cream, bloody brothers. He never said what they was picked for and I never met any of them. Why?”

“I’m wondering if maybe one of his chums was hiding the
messages in the wall for him. According to Alfie, they weren’t love letters. They were only to do with making arrangements for meetings. Did you notice any change in your daughter’s behaviour over the past while?”

Mrs. McHattie thought for a moment. “She seemed happier, a bit less mardy. I put it down to the fact that she knew the pregnancy was almost over. But I tell you, Inspector, I doubt very much she was meeting Mr. Rudy. That I would have known. She couldn’t have hidden that from me.”

Tyler paused. Then he said quietly, “I’m starting to think that Shirley got a message that caused her to slip away without being seen. But that she did intend to come back.”

“A message from Rudy?”

“Yes. Either he’s in the area or she believes he is.”

Mrs. McHattie’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe she’d do that to me. Go off like that. Even with all our troubles, she wouldna. Not after what’s happened.”

Again Tyler waited. Mrs. McHattie had taken a handkerchief from her pocket and she was twisting it between her fingers.

“What do we do now?” she asked finally.

“There is an
RAF
camp in Ludlow,” said Tyler. “I’ll get in touch with the commandant and see if he can help us. Rudy might be stationed here.”

“You know what? Much as I didn’t like the fellow, I’d feel better if I knew she was with him. At least I’d know she was safe.”

She spoke so softly Tyler could hardly hear her.

60.

T
YLER WENT IMMEDIATELY TO THE ALMONER
’
S OFFICE
. Sister Rebecca, matins over, was already seated at her desk. She got to her feet as soon as he entered. Her face was full of alarm and his heart sank. More bad news, obviously.

“The post arrived early. I’m afraid you’ve got another of those letters.”

The neat handwriting was unpleasantly familiar. He tore open the envelope. Sure enough, it contained a single sheet of paper with a typewritten message.

She has been having labour pains for the last several hours. She and two other women, also close to their term, have been taken to the city, where she has been put in a bare and cheerless room by herself. There is nobody with her, except a hard-featured nurse who has checked for dilation. The examination is painful, but the nurse does not apologize. The woman asks for water, pointing at her mouth and making drinking gestures. The nurse either does not understand or chooses not to speak. She shakes her head. A doctor enters, old, grey-haired, bowed. His hands shake as if he is palsied or perhaps drunk. He examines her a little more gently than the nurse has. He holds up three fingers. “Soon,” he says. “Soon.” She wants to catch hold of his hand and keep him beside her because he treats her as if she is a human being. But he leaves hurriedly and a second nurse, cap and body stiff and starched, comes into the room. Then the overwhelming tide of pain seizes her and nothing else matters. She groans. She wants to shout out but is too proud in front of these haughty women. Finally, the first nurse signs at her to push and she does, until the baby comes out into the world in a rush of blood and fluid. She half sits up in the bed, and holds out her arms for her infant. It is a boy, her first. The nurse ignores her, wraps the newborn in a blanket, and walks away. “Wait,” she cries, trying to struggle out of the bed. The other nurse’s eyes flicker at her. “Later,” she says. She knows this is a lie and she screams. The doctor comes hurrying back. While the nurse holds her down, he jams a hypodermic needle into her arm. From outside of the room, she can hear the thin wail of her newborn. She shrieks again but the drug is taking effect and she sinks into oblivion.

The baby will continue to cry.

“Inspector, what is the matter?” Sister Rebecca asked in alarm.

“Take a look.”

Sister Rebecca read it quickly. “Lord have mercy on us all.” She crossed herself.

Tyler thumped one fist into his hand. “What are these letters about, goddamn it? Oh, sorry, Sister. Whose story are they telling?” Suddenly he grabbed at the envelope. “Shite. When was the darn thing franked?”

In opening the letter he’d barely missed tearing off the corner, but the stamp was clear enough. Ludlow post office. Two thirty. Wed. July 15, 1942. It had been posted a day before Shirley vanished, but after Jock and Ben McHattie were shot.

“I’d say the letters are following a definite chronology, wouldn’t you, Sister? First, the killing of the men, second the removing of the mothers and children. This third one describes a woman being taken to a hostile place to deliver her baby, which is then taken from her.”

“Shirley McHattie?”

“I’d say so. The parallels are too close not to be significant. But this letter was intended to reach me after she disappeared. It smacks of careful planning.”

He told the almoner about Alfie and the revelation of the secret letters in the wall.

“It certainly sounds as if her lover has been in contact with her,” she said. “Perhaps he is stationed at the Ludford
RAF
camp. It certainly is close by.”

“Mrs. McHattie insists he’s gone overseas, but he could have returned. If the family is so hostile to him, he might think it prudent to lie low for the time being.”

The almoner was already reaching for the telephone. “I know the commandant of the camp. Shall I ring him for you?”

“That would be grand. Rudy might not be his real name, but there can’t be that many men on the base who are foreigners and trained as commandos in Scotland.”

Sister Rebecca looked at him. “I am probably being impossibly naive, but do you think we could be dealing with a simple elopement?”

“Unfortunately, I’d say there’s very little chance of that being the case.”

61.

T
HE MORNING SUN HAD VANISHED, AND IN TYPICAL
English fashion, the weather had changed. A louring cloud was coming in fast over the trees, and it was threatening rain. The common room was dim, electricity always used sparingly.

For the third time in two days, Tyler found himself addressing the residents of the hospital. Faces with unseeing eyes, horrible scars and mutilations; ordinary faces like those of the two orderlies and the four nuns in their plain habits. Mrs. Fuller with her work-stained apron. Alfie fidgeting mightily on his chair.

It was hard to believe one of these people had been trained as a killer and, presumably, had acted as such. But it had to be somebody among them. It
had
to be.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I’m sorry to inform you that Shirley McHattie is missing. She left her room in the nuns’ quarters late last night and has not returned. Frankly, we don’t know if she is staying away of her own free will or if she has, in fact, been abducted. In either case, given her condition, we need to find her as soon as possible.”

A gasp rippled through the group, followed by silent, intense attention.

“The reason I have asked you here,” continued Tyler, “is because I want you to search your memories and see if there is anything, even the smallest thing, that you can tell me that might help us find her. For instance, did Shirley ever speak to you about the father of her child? A hint, a casual word she let slip about his identity. Some of you know this area far better than I do. Is there anywhere she might be? Perhaps hidden.
Did you hear anything at all last night? An owl cry? A dog bark? Allow me to decide if it is relevant or not.”

Nobody spoke. Nobody jumped up and said,
I did. I heard Shirley McHattie being dragged away screaming. Not only that, I know who abducted her
.

Those who could look back at Tyler simply appeared frightened or confused. He went on.

“To date, I have received three anonymous letters that may have a bearing on this case. They were all typed on one of the machines in the hospital common room. If you know anything about that, please let me know at once.”

It was me, Inspector. I typed those grief-sodden pieces. I confess
.

No such luck. More blank stares, confused expressions.

Daisy raised her hand as if she were in school. “What sort of letters are you referring to?”

“As the bishop said to the Pope,” muttered Melrose.

“I’m not at liberty to disclose the contents at this point, Miss Stevens.”

“As the Pope replied,” said the irrepressible Melrose.

Tyler was getting nowhere fast. “Three people have died on these premises. A young woman, about to deliver a child, has disappeared. She could be hurt and unable to seek help. She could be trapped somewhere by a malicious person or people. She is at risk. Her unborn child is at risk.”