Dead Ground in Between (21 page)

She looked alarmed, her knitting completely at a standstill. “Oh dear.”

“Indeed,” said Tyler. “Where might the young men be now, Mrs. Mohan?”

“I'm…I'm not sure. Usually they go out to the woods after the chores are done and gather firewood for me. They're probably over there. To the east side of the fields, not the west.”

Tyler got to his feet. “I'll go and see if I can find them. Thank you, Mrs. Mohan. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

Those were the words she had used, but what else could you call it?

“I'll let myself out,” he added.

She nodded. “They're good lads, Inspector. Even if they can be wild sometimes, especially Sam, they've got kind hearts. I don't know what I'd do without them, I really don't.”

There was nothing he could say to that, and he left the warmth of the parlour and returned to the
blasted heath
, as the countryside was beginning to define itself in his mind.

The bicycle ride out to Bitterley seemed even harder than it had the day before, the wind fiercer. Icy sleet was starting to fall. Pim was on the saddle again and Jan puffed as he pedalled.

“That's the policeman's car,” cried Pim as they went past the Cartwright farm.

“He can't be looking for us,” said Jan. “We haven't been gone long enough. If he sees us, we'll keep on going.”

They rounded the bend in the road and the farmhouse was out of sight; the woods where they were heading were on their left. Jan slowed down and stopped the bike abruptly.

“This is it. We'll have to walk from here.”

Pim dismounted and they turned off the road, Jan wheeling the bicycle and Pim trotting behind. The narrow path wasn't easily seen but Jan knew where it was. He kicked aside branches that had been snapped off by the wind. They walked like this for five minutes until they came to a crumbling stone wall. Behind it were the remains of a small stone hut that had probably been used once upon a time by shepherds.

Jan pushed the bike inside the ruined hut and the two of them dragged branches over it until it was completely hidden. Then Jan bent down and lifted what appeared to be a short piece of plank from the ground. It was actually attached to a wooden trapdoor which rose up, revealing a narrow entrance.
Like the other bunker, this one was reached by way of a metal ladder. Jan snapped on his torch.

“I'll go first.”

He clambered down into the darkness.

“All clear. Come on. Close the door behind you.”

His brother obeyed.

The heavy soil sucked at Tyler's boots and he was briefly and unpleasantly reminded of the mud of Flanders. Another world war within living memory, and this one promising to be even more devastating. Not for the first time, he wondered what they had been fighting for last time.
The war to end all wars
hadn't.

He plodded on to the edge of the woods, where he stopped to listen. The wind was shaking the branches of the trees but he heard a voice.

“Over here, Tim. Hurry up.”

Tyler moved in cautiously, hoping to catch the men unawares.

As he had suspected, they weren't collecting wood. Neatly stacked at the edge of a clearing was a pile of dead rabbits. Wickers and Oldham were hovering over a rabbit hole, and even as Tyler watched, a terrified rabbit shot out, entangling itself in the covering net. Tim caught it immediately, extracted it from the net, and with a swift, sure twist broke its neck across his leg. Sam reached into the hole and lifted out a white ferret. Tim dropped the dead rabbit on the ground.

Tyler stepped forward out of the protection of the trees and both young men turned.

“Can't get away from you, can we, Inspector?” said Sam. “You've come a long way to give us a mark for our good work at the station.”

“If I was intending to do that, which I wasn't,” said Tyler, “you just lost it for poaching. I take it you don't have a permit to catch rabbits here.”

Tim looked nervously at his mate. “I, er…”

“Our mistake, Inspector,” said Sam. “We're just doing our bit for the war effort. People need the meat these days. We thought this was all common land past the field.”

“Don't give me that malarkey,” said Tyler. “You live here, and you didn't know you're on the Desmond property? Pull the other why don't you.”

“Funny thing is, Inspector, we took up a brace of rabbits to Sir Arthur just last week and he didn't object. Only too glad to get them. You can ask him.”

“You're being cheeky, Wickers. I'm getting fed up with it. Get your stuff together right now. I'm going back to the farmhouse. I'll see you there in ten minutes. If you're not standing in front of me by then, I'll charge you with black marketing, poaching, and obstructing police business. If I think of anything else I'll add it to the list.”

Oldham hobbled to collect the nets that they'd placed over the rabbit holes. Wickers put the twittering ferret into its box.

“We'll come as quick as we can, Inspector. Wouldn't consider giving us a hand, would you? Move things along faster? Tim don't move too swift right now.”

“No, I won't. Get on with it. Ten minutes!”

He turned and pushed his way back through the undergrowth.

Jan had lit the oil lamp and the heater but the hideout was still cold and dark. The smell of the paraffin was strong in the air.

“Are you hungry?” he asked his brother.

Pim snuffled. “I d-don't like it in here, Jan. I can't breathe. Can't we g-go somewhere else?”

“There isn't anywhere else. You're afraid of the other place. Look, we'll only stay here for tonight, I promise. I'll turn up the heater and it'll get warm in a jiffy.” He fished in his knapsack. “Here, I brought my
Wizard
. I haven't even read it myself yet. Why don't you lie on the bunk and have a look at it.”

“All right,” said Pim with a sigh. “But I hope we d-don't get into trouble.”

“We won't. Captain said we could use the hideouts whenever we wanted. We've just got to keep them tidy.” Taking a bar of chocolate from the knapsack, he broke off a piece and handed it to his brother.

Pim stuffed it in his mouth, then stretched out on the cot and pulled a blanket over himself. “I still d-don't understand how the old m-man ended up in the other hideout. He was t-too old to be a Scout. Do you think he w-was a f-fifth columnist?”

Jan furrowed his brow. “Probably. He wouldn't be dead otherwise, would he? Captain said we always had to be on the lookout for traitors. And if you found one it was only your duty to dispose of him.”

“Do you think C-Captain killed him?”

“He might have. He's a brave man.”

Tyler had got Mrs. Mohan to agree to remain in her sitting room while he questioned her two lodgers. She protested vociferously about their innocence of any crime other than high spirits and reluctantly closed the door behind her. Wickers and Oldham arrived within the allotted ten minutes and took their places at the kitchen table. Tyler remained standing.

“I'll come straight to the point, gents. Put you out of your misery. Forget the rabbits and forget the bit of mischief at the police station. No, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, Wickers.”

Sam had been about to do the ostentatious protest of innocence.

“Like I said,” continued Tyler, “I'm putting that aside for the time being. The reason I'm so eager to have a chinwag with you two blokes is because we have new information from the coroner about Jasper Cartwright's death.”

That got their attention.

“Dr. Murnaghan has determined that the old man did not die from purely natural causes.”

Tyler paused to see the effect his words had on the lads. Wickers' expression was inscrutable; Oldham looked alarmed.

“Can you expand on that a little, Inspector?” said Wickers. “I thought he'd died from exposure. Maybe had a stroke or something like that. That's natural, ain't it?”

“No stroke. Somebody attacked him. They stuck a knife in his ribs.”

Wickers dropped his mask. “Bloody hell. What are you talking about, Inspector?
Who
stuck a knife in his ribs?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out. The wound was not in itself enough to kill him, but that and the cold and damp were probably too much for his system. Put it this way. If he'd received proper medical help he might have survived – but he didn't.”

“Weeping Jesus,” said Oldham. “Why'd that happen?”

“Don't know yet. I said ‘somebody' attacked him but it could have been more than one. Accomplices. A couple of mates or something like that.”

Wickers threw up his hands. His eyes were angry. “Oi. Don't look at us. We had nothing to do with it. Did we, Tim?”

Oldham shook his head. “Christ, no. Nothing.”

“We didn't stir from this house that night or the next morning till you saw us in the court,” said Wickers. “Ask Mrs. Mohan. She cooked us supper
and
breakfast.”

Tyler clicked his tongue. “You know as well as I do that she's as deaf as a post. You could have come and gone in the night with a brass band two times over and she wouldn't have heard you. The fact that you were present at breakfast proves nothing.”

The two men exchanged glances with each other. Oldham was pale.

“I swear we had nothing to do with any killing.”

“When do you usually go out to snare the rabbits?” Tyler asked.

They both hesitated, and Oldham left it to Wickers to answer.

“Varies. Depending on what other kind of farm work we've got going on.”

“Early mornings?”

“Sometimes. Not in this weather, though. Even the bunnies want to stay in bed.”

Tyler placed his hands on the table, leaning in close to them. “Let's put it this way, lads. It would help me a lot to get a fix on Mr. Cartwright's whereabouts after he left his house. I'll overlook any little misdemeanour you might have been up to if it means you tell me the truth. Now, I'll repeat the question. Did you encounter the old man at any time between Monday after ten o'clock at night and the early hours of Tuesday morning?”

Wickers nudged his pal. “Tim. You tell him. I went out to check on the nets Tuesday morning, but I came right back in. I told you the weather was too bad. So we didn't go out. We got a bit of extra kip until breakfast. Tell the inspector.”

Oldham gulped. “That's right, sir. Just what Sam says.”

“Would you consider yourself a sound sleeper, Tim?”

“Er…I suppose so, Inspector.”

“Now I can see that you yourself aren't up to much action at the moment, but what I also see is all kinds of possibility for your mate to get into trouble.”

“Hey…what are you getting at?” Wickers said.

“Let him talk for once.” Tyler faced Oldham. “Did Sam wake up first or did you?”

“Me.”

“Was he in bed when you woke up?”

“Come on, Tyler,” protested Wickers. “You're not going to pin this on me.”

“It's Inspector Tyler to you, lad. And if you interrupt again I'm going to slap a charge on you for interfering with the progress of justice.”

He turned back to the nervous Oldham. “So, Tim. When you came to consciousness was your mate still in bed or not?”

“Er, no. He was up.”

“Dressed?”

“Yes, I think so. I don't really remember.”

“Did he talk to you?”

“How'd you mean?”

“Did he say, ‘Rise and shine, Tim. Lovely day out. Time to get us some rabbits'?”

“I don't remember.”

“What time was it when you got yourself out of bed?”

“I dunno. Close on seven, I think.”

“But you didn't go out to the warren because Sam said the weather was too bad.”

“That's right.”

Tyler could see that Oldham was virtually squirming in his chair as he tried to work out what was going on. Wickers didn't move. He started to pick his teeth with his fingernail.

“All right,” continued Tyler. “Let me get this clear in my noggin. Tim, you woke up to see your mate was already dressed.
You naturally assumed you were going to go out and catch rabbits like you usually do…”

“Yes, er, I mean, no.”

“But he said you weren't going out because the weather was too bad.”

“That's right. And my ankle was hurting.”

“Of course. And he's a considerate pal, isn't he?”

“Yeah.”

“And if he told you the weather was too bad to go out, we might suppose he had been outside himself. That's how he knew.”

Wickers was still.

Tim paused. “Not necessarily. He could have looked out of the window.”

“It was pitch-black at that hour, how could he tell?”

Tim glanced desperately at his pal. Sam took pity on him. He rocked back in his chair.

“You've no need to ride Tim, Inspector. I did get up and get dressed 'cause I wanted to see if we could go rabbitting. When it was obvious the weather was too foul, I woke up Tim. Previous to that I was fast asleep. All night. Didn't stir.”

Tyler looked at Oldham. “Do you verify that?”

“Certainly do.”

“Even though you were asleep?”

“Well, I did wake up once or twice because of the gale. Sam was right there sleeping, like he said.”

“All right. I'll be going back to the station shortly. Do what you have to do here then get yourselves into town. You haven't fulfilled the conditions of your remand yet.”

Wickers frowned. “I thought we'd cleaned up pretty good.”

“Not good enough. The toilet somehow or other got blocked. Made a mess. You're going to have to scrub it down.”

He left the two men to the ministrations of Mrs. Mohan, who came into the kitchen and fussed over them as if they were schoolboys who'd been victims of a bully. Perhaps they were. He'd been a bit hard on them, he supposed. Simple farming lads getting by in wartime. But he couldn't shake the image of Tim Oldham so casually and skilfully breaking the neck of a struggling rabbit. Killing didn't seem to faze him. However, so far Tyler had not discovered any reason why either man would harm Jasper Cartwright. Even if he'd caught them poaching, it wasn't a reason to connect them with a brutal assault.