No Known Grave (36 page)

“Jock McHattie and his son cannot be held responsible for the massacre. They committed no crime. Nor did Sister Ivy.”

“Neither did the villagers of Lidice commit a crime,” snapped Kozik. “Surely, Inspector, you don’t believe that only the guilty suffer in a time of war?”

Tyler felt a rush of anger. He knew all too well that the innocent suffer. Kozik must have sensed he’d hit a nerve because he waited for a moment before continuing.

“The only person Pesek has shown any real love for is Shirley McHattie. He wanted her family to be his.” Again the ironic tone. “He would’ve had a hard time persuading them he was a suitable husband for their daughter, but that is not my affair. I wanted him to experience even a fraction of what I experienced. So I chose to kill the father. As mine had been killed.”

“Ben was a witness?”

“That was not why I shot him. He would never have known it was me.”

“Why then?”

“He was just sixteen. Like my brother. All the boys of Lidice died who were that age. The other boy, the younger one, I spared.”

Tyler took a deep breath. He would have liked a cigarette but wasn’t about to break up the flow of Kozik’s narrative. He glanced at Constable Mortimer. Her eyes met his and he saw her deep distress. But there was nothing to do but press on.

“You didn’t spare an innocent nun,” said Tyler. “Did she guess you were the killer?”

“Not at all. She suspected nothing. But she was a nurse. The women who came to take the children away were nurses. The children of Lidice were gassed. I gassed a nurse to settle the score.”

Kozik needed another drink. Tyler thought the man was experiencing a great deal of pain, but he asked for no relief.

“I see. You would have taken any of the sisters?”

“Sister Ivy was on duty. It was easier to get to her.”

“You drugged her first, I assume?”

“Yes. I drugged her both nights. As you have surmised, I needed her to be asleep while I got out. She was a creature of habit. Cocoa at a quarter past two on the dot. I doctored her sugar with a little sleeping dust. I had plenty of time to exit and return while she slept. The fire escape made it easy for me. I stored my gun in the bottom of the pigeon seed bin, by the way. I’m sure nobody thought of looking in there.”

No, they hadn’t
, thought Tyler ruefully.

“Did you know Sister Ivy was letting Dai Hughes in and out?”

“Of course I knew. I am an observer. We commandos are trained to observe and note the comings and goings of the local population. It is now ingrained in me. Sister Ivy was up to silly shenanigans with the orderly. Unlocking the door so he could tom-cat around with a certain Polly Hutchins when he was supposed to be on duty. She is a girl who, you might say, lacks a sense of morality. She is amenable to most things if you pay her.”

“Sounds like you know her well.”

“Let’s say we became acquainted when I took a short leave in Manchester before I was injured. After the massacre, when I decided what I was going to do, I got in touch with her. She agreed to come to Ludlow, to make certain liaisons as I directed. Polly can be most charming when necessary.”

Tyler was stunned to realize how carefully Kozik had planned everything. Again the man seemed to pick up on Tyler’s thoughts. He smiled. “Human nature, Inspector. One of the best tools in our arsenal as commandos is to understand human nature. Surely this is something both you and I share. You are a shrewd man, I know that about you. And I sense that you, too, feel things deeply.”

Tyler had no desire to be linked to this man and he made no comment.

“You certainly managed to fool some good people.”

“I made myself above suspicion by presenting myself as a man who couldn’t walk properly and couldn’t talk. I was really quite recovered when I arrived at St. Anne’s, but because I didn’t complain or make a fuss, nobody bothered to question the earlier records. People will accept what they perceive as the truth if you are convincing enough.”

Tyler couldn’t help himself. “I don’t know whether to think the world has lost a great psychiatrist in you or a great actor.”

Kozik actually smiled. “Let’s say both professions have been studies of mine.”

“You were the matchmaker for Dai Hughes and your friend, I presume?”

“Quite so. Mr. Hughes was fooled into believing Polly loved him. By the same token, Shirley McHattie thought she had found a best friend. Lonely people are so susceptible. As for Polly, she is eager to have a child. Alas for her, she herself is unable to procreate. Therefore, like the German women who took our
children, she needed to take somebody else’s. I introduced her to my scheme. She was only too happy to go along with it if she got what she wanted. Plus a nice sum of money, of course.”

“So you conspired to abduct Shirley McHattie?”

“Precisely. The penultimate act. She is such a gullible young girl. She thought she was going to meet Rudy. Polly knew of a good hiding place – and of course a church was a perfect parallel. My best friends, my comrades, all died in a church.”

“What were you planning to do with the baby?”

“Polly was going to disappear and raise the child as her own.”

“Which meant you would have to kill Shirley, its rightful mother.”

Kozik looked away. “That’s what happened to the mothers of Lidice. They have gone to their deaths.”

The insanity of the words spoken so calmly was unutterably chilling. Tyler tried to keep his own voice under control, but he didn’t succeed. He found himself shouting.

“What happened to your village, to the people in it, was wicked. Nobody denies that! Do you think it helped any of them that you, too, took reprisals? Do you? You have also killed innocent people.”

“I realize that and I have remorse.” Kozik spoke solemnly.

“I don’t believe you,” yelled Tyler. “You’re no better than the Gestapo.”

For the first time Kozik appeared rattled. “That isn’t true. I weep for those I have killed. But I weep more for the men who were stood against the wall and shot in cold blood. I weep for the children who were taken away and gassed. For the mothers whose infants have been stolen from them.”

“You are insane,” cried Tyler. “You try to sound magnanimous, but you are no better than a petty thug who is full of spite.”

Kozik stared at him. “Perhaps it does seem that way. I admit I did what I did so that Rudolph Pesek would know what
would never be his and he would suffer. But I also did what I did so that the world would know and also weep.”

He reached beside him for the box containing the contents of his pockets. He removed an envelope. “I was going to give you this last letter, Inspector. The ultimate act. Frankly, I was contemplating imitating the final razing of my village.”

“What! You mean you were going to set St. Anne’s on fire?”

“Precisely. But to tell you the truth, I am bone tired. I could not do it.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” said Tyler sarcastically.

He took the envelope. Kozik leaned back and closed his eyes.

“You’ve got all of it, Inspector. I’m not going to say any more. In your eyes, my crimes are heinous. Do with me what you will. I care not. My heart has been destroyed already.”

69.

S
ISTER
R
EBECCA AND
R
OWELL HAD LISTENED WITHOUT
comment to Tyler’s recital.

“May God have mercy on his soul,” said the nun.

“What is going to happen to him?” asked Rowell.

“He is now in the custody of the
SOE
. The Special Operations Executive. We will have to work together to see how we are going to prosecute. If we get that far, which I doubt, given the man’s state of mind.”

“And Polly Hutchins?”

“She has been charged with kidnapping and forcible confinement. She will go to jail.”

“What was the final letter about?” Sister Rebecca asked.

Tyler handed her the envelope. “You can read it yourself. In some ways it is the worst.”

She took out the sheet of paper. “I’ll read it out loud, shall I?”

They have been brought from the camp to bury the dead. The trampled grass is slippery with blood and the bodies still lie where they have fallen. The soldiers regard the workers sullenly, ready to pounce at the slightest indication of awareness. Not protest, forget such a thing as protest. Nobody would dare to do so, but the guards are alert for the slightest glance, the mere flicker of an expression that might be construed as judgement.

“Who are you looking at, Juden?” yells one, but he is too drunk to follow up on his question.

All around the killing ground, tossed among the sweet-smelling apple trees, as far as the eye can see, are empty bottles. Rum, cognac, much wine.

Behind them the houses are already on fire and the air is speckled with bits of flaming wood blown on the wind.

The place is razed.

Who will remember what it once was?

Sister Rebecca put down the paper. She reached over and touched Tyler’s arm. “We will remember.”

He clasped her hand in both of his.

“We will. We will indeed.”

EPILOGUE

T
HE RESIDENTS OF
S
T
. A
NNE
’
S HAD BEEN PROFOUNDLY
shocked when they learned the man they had known as Victor Clark had deceived them, and what he had done. It was especially hard on the remaining rub-a-dubs, but in the end it had brought them closer together. When Daisy and Jeremy announced they were getting a special licence so they could marry immediately, even Eddie Prescott approved. “Good idea, kiddies,” Melly had exclaimed. “
Carpe diem
. Eddie, that means seize the day, in case you’re wondering.”

Jeremy asked Melrose to be his best man. “Somebody has to be able to sign the registry.”

The sisters offered their sanctuary for the ceremony. The invited guests were crammed together, but nobody seemed to mind. Shirley McHattie was seated near the back, holding her infant son close to her chest. Mrs. McHattie had declined to come. Daisy was pleased to recognize Inspector Tyler among the guests. He was next to Dr. Beck. Both had beamed at her as she went to take her place at the altar. She thought the inspector might even have winked.

The ceremony was performed by the Reverend Jervis. A bespectacled, rotund, and rather unprepossessing man, he nevertheless conducted the service in a sincere, unhurried way. His voice was resonant.

“Does anyone here present know of any reason or just impediment why this couple may not be joined together in holy marriage, let you now declare it or forever hold your peace.”

Nobody did.

Everybody who could had donated their sugar rations, and Mrs. Fuller had baked a cake that was big enough to ensure everybody had a slice, albeit a tiny one.

Daisy had been intending to wear her
WREN
uniform, but Constable Mortimer took her aside and told her that she could have the loan of the Mortimer family wedding gown if she so wished. Apparently, her mother was only too happy to lend it to deserving but impoverished young women who were in one of the services.

“My mother is shorter than I am,” said Agnes Mortimer with a shy smile. “I don’t think it will have to be much altered.”

The wedding gown turned out to be a beautiful full-length dress of white organdie lace over taffeta.

Jeremy whispered to her afterwards that the taffeta swishing around her body was one of the most sublime sounds he’d ever heard.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. St. Anne’s Convalescent Hospital is a figment of my imagination, as are the people who inhabit it. However, the town of Ludlow is real and has been for centuries. The events that are described in the letters that Tyler receives really happened, and I have rendered them as faithfully as I could. If in this small way I have created interest in that tragic event, I am glad. We must never forget.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am always grateful for the enthusiastic help I received from my friends Enid, Pam, and Jessie, who are always on the lookout for books or articles that might be useful. Thanks to Cath Jones, who accompanied me through the streets of Ludlow so I could get my timings right.

I am especially grateful to my publishers at McClelland & Stewart for supporting me on this journey and most especially to my amazing editor, Lara Hinchberger. I so often feel like the White Queen to her Alice. She tidies me up and the next minute I’m a mess again. What patience.