Manor House 04 - Dig Deep for Murder (18 page)

She was almost at the bottom of the pile when she came across Fred Bickham's letter. She read it again, studying each badly scrawled word. It stated quite clearly that Fred intended living with his brother in Ireland. Yet Alfie had seemed quite sure that Fred's only living relative was a sister in Devon.

Elizabeth frowned. It shouldn't be too difficult to find Fred's sister. Perhaps she would know what happened to Fred. A vision of Fred's cottage popped into Elizabeth's mind. The bedroom. There was something about the bedroom. Something she couldn't put her finger on. . . .

Another thought struck her, and she pushed her chair away from the desk and hurried over to the filing cabinet. After a moment or two she found what she was looking for, and drew the file out. Carrying it to the desk, she flipped through it, then laid it down while she extracted a sheet of paper. It was Fred Bickham's application to rent the cottage.

After studying it for another minute or so, she reached for the letter he'd written informing her of his move to Ireland. Laying them side by side, she studied them again.

At last she straightened. It really hadn't taken an expert's opinion to convince her of what she'd begun to suspect. The second letter hadn't been written by Fred. Someone else had written the letter. Someone who knew what had happened to Fred Bickham and had gone to a lot of trouble to cover up his disappearance.

CHAPTER

13

Elizabeth was up bright and early the next morning, and after a hurried breakfast rode down to Polly's house. Edna answered the door, and had obviously been expecting her. She showed her visitor into the living room, which had been visibly tidied up since Elizabeth's visit the day before.

There was no sign of Polly, however, and Elizabeth sensed a certain disapproval in Edna's voice when she offered the inevitable cup of tea.

Elizabeth declined with her most charming smile. "I have rather a busy day today. Is Polly ready to go?"

"Not quite, your ladyship." Edna pursed her lips. "If you don't mind me asking, m'm, I'd like to know what you think of this young man Polly seems so set on."

"Well, I don't know him very well," Elizabeth admitted. "But his commanding officer speaks very highly of him."

"Ah, yes, the major."

Something in the way she said it made Elizabeth feel uncomfortable. "Is there something I should know?"

"Well, it's just that this Sam Cutter is ten years older than Polly, and he is an American, after all. You know what they say about Yanks. I just don't think Polly should be getting mixed up with someone like that. She's so young, not much more than a child, really. Her dad wouldn't like it at all, I know that."

Elizabeth drew a deep breath. "Mrs. Barnett, I understand how you feel. Truly I do. But in my experience, young girls very often find a way of doing what they want, no matter how much their parents disapprove. Sometimes they do things they shouldn't, simply
because
their parents disapprove. A way of establishing their independence, I suppose."

"She's too young to have that kind of independence," Edna muttered. "Sometimes parents have to do things to protect their children."

"I've always found Polly to be a sensible and strong-willed young woman. I'm sure she's quite capable of taking care of herself. There comes a time when we have to trust people to do the right thing."

Edna's expression hardened. "It's not Polly I don't trust."

Elizabeth hesitated, then said quietly, "Mrs. Barnett, forgive me for speaking bluntly, but there's something you should know. Sam Cutter's face was disfigured in the accident. He's going to need all the support he can get to accept that. Polly could help a lot. The major believes that Sam will recover enough to return to his duties. If so . . . well . . . you know his chances of surviving the rest of the war. I would say those two young people are entitled to any happiness they can find in the next few months, wouldn't you?"

Edna chewed on her lip for a moment, then finally nodded. "If you put it like that, m'm, I don't see how I can
stop our Polly from seeing him. I just don't want her heart broken, that's all."

"There are always broken hearts in wartime." Elizabeth rose to her feet. "We have to accept that, and hope the experience helps us to grow into better people because of it."

"I reckon you're right at that." Edna crossed the room to the door. "I'll tell Polly you're waiting for her."

Moments later Polly arrived in the doorway, her face wreathed in smiles. She looked so much better that Elizabeth had a hard time remembering her blotchy face and puffy eyes of the day before.

"I don't know how you swung it, your ladyship," Polly said, as she eased herself into the sidecar of Elizabeth's motorcycle, "but I'm ever so glad you're on my side. I didn't think me mum was ever going to let me see Sam."

"I only hope you can settle whatever differences you have with him. I don't need my secretary moping around the office with a long face next week."

"Well, I don't know if he's going to listen to me, m'm. But I'm not going to leave him until I have my say. He wants to break up with me, but I know it's because he thinks I won't want him with his face all banged up. Crikey, there are women out there who have men coming back from the war with arms and legs missing, or their faces all burned up and looking really horrible. They don't stop loving them just because they don't look the same. And I'll never, never stop loving Sam. I've got to make him believe that."

The wind made it impossible to have a conversation on the ride to North Horsham, but Elizabeth's heart glowed with admiration for the young girl at her side. Polly might be young, but she had the heart and soul of a woman far beyond her years. One could only hope that she would survive the heartache of loving such a man; perhaps the miracle would happen, and Polly would find lasting happiness with her Sam. At least she had hope. That was more than so many had in these troubled times.

Elizabeth left Polly at the hospital and visited the shops in the High Street for an hour or two before returning to pick up her young assistant. Polly didn't say much about her conversation with Sam, and Elizabeth had the feeling that it would take more than one meeting before things worked out the way Polly hoped. She seemed cheerful enough, however, when Elizabeth left her at the house.

That afternoon Sadie Buttons arrived in the taxi that Elizabeth had arranged to meet her at the station. Martin opened the door to her, and there followed a few moments of confusion while Sadie tried to explain who she was and why she was there. Alerted by the girl's strident voice, Elizabeth hurried down the stairs to sort things out.

"Madam! This young woman insists she lives here," Martin declared, obviously put out.

"She does, Martin," Elizabeth assured him. "At least, she will from now on. Sadie is our new housemaid." She turned to the beaming girl. "I'm sorry, Sadie. Martin gets confused now and then."

"That's all right, m'm. We all get confused sometimes, don't we, luv?" This last was directed at Martin, and accompanied by a hefty nudge of Sadie's elbow.

Martin drew himself up as best he could. "I
beg
your pardon. Kindly remember to whom you are speaking. I am the butler of this honorable establishment, and as such I demand some respect."

"Oo, hoity-toity, aren't we?" Sadie winked at Elizabeth in a rather vulgar manner. "I'll have to sort him out, I can see that."

"Sort me
out
?" Martin appealed to Elizabeth. "Madam, really! Surely I do not have to tolerate such impertinence in this house?"

"I'll take care of it, Martin. Why don't you run down to the kitchen and let Violet know that Sadie has arrived?"

"Yes, madam." After sending a malevolent glare at the hapless girl, Martin headed for the kitchen stairs at the speed of a disgruntled turtle.

Elizabeth waited until she was sure he was out of ear
shot before saying quietly, "Don't mind Martin. He's very old and set in his ways, and doesn't understand how things have changed. He thinks this is still the nineteenth century. I must ask that you try to be tolerant, and humor him as best you can."

"Don't you worry, your ladyship. I'll play along. Once he gets used to me, I'll jolly him up a bit."

Elizabeth did her best to hide her apprehension at the thought of Martin being "jollied up." It would seem that Violet would have her hands full with the new maid, after all. Eyeing all the suitcases the girl had brought with her, Elizabeth wondered if the room that Violet had prepared for her would hold everything she'd brought.

Violet chose that moment to appear at the top of the stairs, obviously annoyed at having to attend to the new arrival. "Martin will show you to your room," she said, handing the girl a key. "Once you get settled, come along to the kitchen and we'll go over what needs to be done."

"Okay." Sadie gave her a cheerful grin, then seized a suitcase in each hand. "Better let me carry these down the stairs. The old boy looks as if he'll drop dead from a heart attack at any minute."

"The old boy," Martin said dryly from behind Violet, "is perfectly capable of carrying bags down the stairs." He stepped out into the light. "Follow me, young lady. And please watch your step. I have no wish to break your fall. It would be comparable to having an elephant descend on one."

Elizabeth sent a wary glance at Sadie, and was rewarded with yet another wink. "Proper luv, ain't he? He needs livening up a bit, that's all." She stomped across the hallway and followed Martin down the stairs.

Violet stood staring after them, a worried frown wrinkling her brow. "I'm going to have trouble with those two," she muttered.

Elizabeth smiled. "Look on the bright side, Violet. He'll be so busy defending himself against Sadie's at
tempts to liven him up, he won't have any sarcasm left for you."

Saturday morning dawned with clear blue skies and a few powderpuff clouds dotted here and there. Elizabeth viewed the sky with mixed feelings. Good weather was imperative for the success of the fete, but it also meant that Earl could be sent on a mission and wouldn't be able to attend.

Nevertheless, she looked forward to the afternoon with an anticipation she hadn't felt in years. The prospect of judging the local talent seemed less formidable with the possibility of sharing the task with Major Earl Monroe.

Even Violet seemed to be in a good mood at breakfast, no doubt because Sadie was somewhere in the heart of the manor cleaning bathrooms—a job that Polly had sadly neglected since she'd been promoted to office assistant.

Polly had done her best to keep up with the jobs that Violet refused to do, as well as her work in the office. It would be good for everyone, including Martin, to have an extra pair of hands in the house. All in all, Elizabeth decided, as she neatly clipped off the top of her soft-boiled egg, it promised to be a good day.

She was pleasantly surprised later that morning when Polly arrived at the manor, eager to make up for her lost days. After making sure the girl seemed well enough to stay, Elizabeth set her to work with the filing while she sorted out the various bills that were left to be paid. The amount still owing depressed her. Fred Bickham's lost rent would put a hole in the budget.

Frowning, she reached for the letter saying that Fred was going to Ireland. The last person seen with Fred had been Reggie Stewart. Was it possible that Reggie had written the letter? No, he couldn't have done. The letter had arrived
after
Reggie's body had been discovered. At least a week after Reggie had died.

No, someone else had sent that letter, hoping that no one would realize Fred Bickham was missing. Quite pos
sibly the same person who had beaten Reggie's face to a pulp. She should tell George about it, though it was doubtful anything would be done. As long as Reggie's death had been ruled a heart attack, the inspector was not going to be too concerned about who had beaten him.

No, it was up to her to find out who had written the letter. Glancing at the filing cabinet, where Polly stood sorting through the files, she asked casually, "Do you know what happened to the contents of the wastebasket? I dropped an envelope in there that I need to look at."

"Yes, m'm." Polly turned to look at her. "Sadie came up and emptied it. I expect she put it all in the rubbish bin."

"Thank you, Polly." Elizabeth made a mental note to ask Sadie about the envelope. Still absorbed in the mystery of Fred's disappearance, she tried to remember everything Alfie had told her about that night. As she recalled his words, something he'd said seemed to ring a bell somewhere in her head. She thought about it for a long time before she realized just why Alfie's comments were so significant.

That afternoon, dressed in a rather impractical yellow silk dress and lace-trimmed hat to match, Elizabeth sat in regal splendor on the judge's seat in front of the stage, which had been set up on the lawn in the vicarage gardens.

Dozens of colorful stalls surrounded her, some piled high with knitted hats, gloves, scarves, and socks, while others displayed handmade lace doilies, lace-edged handkerchiefs, and embroidered pillow slips. Dolls and bears made from scraps of fabric shared space with boats, trains, and marvelous little planes carved from broken branches collected in the woods.

There were cakes baked without eggs, and lemonade powder wrapped up in paper cones. The white elephant stall groaned under the weight of old-fashioned costume jewelry and long-forgotten, useless items dragged from dusty cupboards and musty attics and thankfully dis
carded, only to end up in yet another cupboard or attic in another house until the following year, when the whole procedure would begin again.

The attendance at this year's summer fete appeared to be excellent. Not only were many people from the village present, but Elizabeth spied British soldiers strolling around the vicarage gardens in small groups, as well as several American airmen in the company of young girls.

Hoping fervently that they all remained peaceful, Elizabeth turned her attention to the stage, where Captain Wally Carbunkle was announcing the first contestant. In spite of her best intentions, her mind wandered back to Earl. He hadn't arrived yet and she was plagued with the nagging worry that today might be the day he failed to return from a mission.