The Armada Boy (5 page)

'But it was only temporary, wasn't
it?'

"Some didn't come back and those
that did found their houses and farms had been damaged by shelling and overrun
with rats. The Bishop of Exeter left a notice on the church gate at Bereton asking
the Americans not to damage the church ... it received a
direct hit which blew out one of the walls. They all got compensation
 
but imagine leaving your house and coming back
to find it's been shelled to bits.'

'You know a lot about it.'

'I asked the kids to talk to their
grandparents. It's surprising how many remembered the evacuation and were keen
to talk about it. There were some stories...locals creeping back to poach rabbits,
girls being taken to the deserted villages for a bit of courting with the
Yanks. There was even a murder.'

'I'll have to read that stuff when
I've got time. You've not got anything there on the Spanish Armada, have you?'

Pam looked at him with the envy
teachers feel for those unfamiliar with the National Curriculum. Tudors are
next term ...hopefully I won't be there.' She blew him a kiss and went into the
kitchen to make an omelette.

He followed her. 'I met Neil this
morning. He discovered the body.

'Not like Neil to do anything so
dramatic.'

'It was on the site of a dig he's doing... something to do with
the Spanish Armada.'

Pam knew the danger signals. She had
met Wesley at university where she had been studying English and he
archaeology. She knew by now that once he became interested in a dig,
especially with Neil Watson fuelling his enthusiasm, he wouldn't rest until every
question was answered, every mystery solved. She had often wondered why he had
chosen the police as a career: his parents were both doctors, so it must have
been his grandfather who put the idea in his head - he had been a senior
detective back in Trinidad. She supposed archaeology and detection had some- thing
in common: both involved painstaking sifting of evidence, back-breaking routine
until a clear picture emerged. For all her complaints about unpredictable
hours, Pam was resigned to being
a policeman's wife.

'So you'll be lending Neil a hand,
will you ... when Gerry Heffernan lets you off the lead?'

'I might drop in from time to time
if we're going to be in Bereton. Might be interesting." He saw a look of
reproach in his wife's eyes. 'But I won't spend a lot of time there . ..
promise. After all, you need looking after." He patted her swollen belly. 'And
this one too.'

I'll give you a special dispensation
to have a drink with Neil tomorrow night. I've got a parents' evening. But
you'll have to be back by ten."

'Can't you make that half
past?"

'Shut up and eat your omelette.'

Wesley obeyed. He knew it was best
to quit while he was
ahead.

Litton Boratski - former Sergeant
Litton Boratski - lowered himself carefully into the venerable chintz-covered
armchair, explaining apologetically that his arthritis was playing up. Wesley and
Heffernan made sympathetic noises and waited while the tall,
thin man arranged his limbs.

He looked at them with ice-blue eyes.
'Sorry about old Norman. I heard he was murdered... is that right?"

'I'm afraid it looks that way, sir,'

'Who shot him? Do you know?'

Wesley looked at his boss. 'He
wasn't shot. He was stabbed.'

Boratski raised his bushy grey eyebrows. 'Now who the heck would want to do a
thing like that?' His slow American drawl made it sound as if he were asking who
had taken the last piece of apple pie on the plate.

'That's what we're trying to find out,
sir. Can you tell me about this reunion ... who arranged it, that sort of
thing?'

'Haven't the others told you?'

'Yes, but we'd like to hear things
from your point of view.' Wesley tried a bit of flattery. 'After all. you were
the sergeant, I believe.' Boratski nodded proudly. 'You must have got to know your
men pretty well.'

'You ever been in the army, boy?'

Wesley shook his head: the army,
encouraging physical rather than intellectual activities, was hardly Wesley's
cup of tea. His basic police training had been a little too hearty for his
taste and he had made every effort to join the CID at the first available
opportunity.

'Everyone should join the army, son.
You're a cop, right? If all these kids today had to do their bit for their
country. I reckon you'd be out of work.'

Heffernan couldn't resist the
challenge. 'And we'd end up with villains who could run faster and shoot
straight... we wouldn't stand a chance.'

This wasn't what Boratski wanted to
hear. He gave the
 
disreputable-looking
inspector a contemptuous look and concentrated his attention on his smarter-looking
subordinate. Wesley could see the mischief in his boss's eyes... Heffernan
relished the role
of devil's advocate.

'Mr Boratski.' Wesley made a determined
effort to steer the interview back on course. 'What can you tell me about
Norman Openheim? '

'Norman? Norman was John Doe.'

'Sorry?'

'John Doe ... an ordinary, regular
guy. He owned a garage up in Buffalo; that's where we all live, up near the Canadian
border. We're the Buffalo Normandy Veterans Association.'

'Did you see him often?'

'We all meet up for a reunion once a
year... it's quite an event. The wives come too.'

'And his marriage? Was it happy as
far as you could tell?'

'You can't judge what goes on in other folk's bedrooms.

Sergeant.' Boratski looked thoughtful. He was hiding something. 'You think
there was something wrong? Did Mrs Openheim confide in anyone? Your wife, for
instance? Maybe the women confided in each other.'

I'm a widower. Sergeant, and I
wouldn't say Dorinda was one for girly talk.'

'But there was someone she was
confiding in?' said Heffernan, leaning forward.

'I don't want to talk out of turn.'

'This is a murder inquiry, Mr Boratski,'
The jovial expression had disappeared from Heffernan's face. It was time for
the truth. 'Hitler didn't get Norman Openheim all those years ago but now someone
else has .. and I'm going to find out who it was. Now what do you know about
Dorinda Openheim? Whatever you tell us will go no further if it's not
relevant.'

'I can't say anything for certain.
It's just... Dorinda's a very discreet woman, you understand.'

'Are you trying to tell me she's
having a bit on the side?' Heffernan was never one to call a spade a digging
implement.

'A bit on the ... ?' Boratski looked
genuinely puzzled.

'An affair." Wesley translated
helpfully.

Litton Boratski sighed. 'If you must
know, she's been mighty friendly with Todd Weringer since his wife passed
away."

'Did Norman know about this?"

Boratski shrugged. 'Didn't say
anything if he did.' He leaned forward confidentially. 'I guess he was glad
someone was taking Dorinda off his hands for a while, if you know what I mean.
She can be a touch ..." He searched for the word. 'Overpowering. My
late wife always used to call her the Mighty Atom.'

Wesley smiled. The Mighty Atom was a
good description of the diminutive Mrs Openheim. 'So you don't think there was
any antagonism between Mr Weringer and Mr Openheim ... no jealousy?

'Not that I saw ... they seemed to
get on pretty good.'

Intrigued as he was by this senior
citizens'
menage a trois,
Gerry Heffernan
decided to turn back the clock. "During the war, did you have much to do
with the locals round here?'

'Sure ... we used to give them
things they couldn't get over here. Chocolate, nylons, gum ... that sort of
thing.' 'And have any of you met up with old acquaintances since
you've arrived in Devon?'

Litton Boratski looked mildly embarrassed. 'Most of
the men round here were away fighting in '44.'

Heffernan nodded knowingly. "So you had to make
do with the women ... what a shame.'
Boratski looked at him, uncertain how to take his last
remark.
'Did Norman
Openheim do any fraternising with the natives?'

'Gee ... Norm was just a kid,
youngest in the company. He'd lied about his age to get in the army. What was
he? Sixteen ...seventeen? If he kissed a few pretty English girls who would
have blamed him?"

'Was the old chapel used for
courting in those days?"

'Yeah ... yeah, I believe it was.'
Litton Boratski sounded uneasy. Maybe the chapel held a few erotic memories for
him, Wesley thought.

"Did Norman use it?'

'Gee ... I can't say. But I'll tell
you one thing, Inspector...back in '44 we didn't know if we'd still be alive
the next week or the next day. That sort of thing can make a man want to get
the most from every moment. Sure, lots of us had women over here.
We lived for the moment. Folk today don't understand how it was. We were out in
that bay on open landing craft. It was winter and the sea spray got into our
uniforms and made our skin freeze and we were scared shitless. On one exercise
a craft near to us was sunk by German E-boats ... everyone on it was killed,
and that was just a practice run for what we were going to have to go through
in Normandy. Then if we made it, we crawled up that beach, our knees bleeding
on those darned pebbles, soaking wet.
freezing... shaking with fear, with the tanks rumbling a couple of feet away
and the bullets whining over our heads. They used live ammo...'

'Bloody Nora .. . Why?' Heffernan
asked.

'To see how the men would fare under
real battle conditions. I guess it wasn't just the Nazis who killed our men on
that operation.
 
Ours not to reason why
... I guess some four-star general thought it was a great idea at the time. So
you see why we lived for
the moment'

'Carpe diem
,' Wesley
muttered thoughtfully.

'You what. Sergeant?' Heffernan
said, puzzled.

'Carpe diem
, sir. It means
seize the day.'

'You got it, son. We seized the
day.' Boratski nodded.

'And were there any local lasses in
particular that Norman Openheim seized?'

"That I can't remember,
Inspector. It was a long time ago and I was their sergeant, not their mom.'

Somehow Heffernan suspected that
Litton Boratski's memory was selective. There was something he was hiding. He
stood up and held out his hand. 'You've been very helpful, Mr Boratski. Thank
you for your time.'

Boratski stayed put. 'Don't you want
to know who killed him?'

Heffernan sat down again. 'Who?' At
this stage any suggestions
 
would be
gratefully received.

Those bums who've been hanging out
round here. It'll be one of them. I know one of them threatened Norman. He was
a bit shaken. We might have liberated France but we sure ain't as young as we
were.'

'Bums? Who do you mean?'