Manor House 01 - A Bicycle Built for Murder (21 page)

She hurried over to the wall and lifted off the receiver.

Watching her, Elizabeth tried not to hope that it was Major Monroe, ringing with some piece of news that would shed some light on the mystery. Or just simply ringing.

"She's resting right now . . . . All right, just a minute. I'll get her." Violet held out the receiver to Elizabeth. "It's Winnie. She says it's important."

Elizabeth took the telephone and pressed it to her ear. "Winnie? This is Lady Elizabeth. What is it?"

"I'm down at the Tudor Arms, Lady Elizabeth. I thought I'd better call you right away."

Winnie's voice sounded urgent, and Elizabeth's spine tingled. "Something's happened?"

"There's another letter for Beryl. It's from London. From that Steve. I think you'd better take a look at it."

CHAPTER
16

Elizabeth curled her fingers tighter around the telephone. "Did you open the letter yet, Winnie? What does it say?"

"I opened it, m'm. But I don't really think I should talk about it here in the pub. I'm really sorry to bother you like this, but I think you might want to see this letter. Could you possibly come back down to the house, or would you rather I bring it up there? I'd have to wait for the bus—"

"No, that's quite all right, Winnie. I have some errands to run, so I'll stop by on my way out." She replaced the receiver and turned to see Violet's face wreathed in disapproval.

"You're not going out again? You just got home. Dinner's almost ready. I got shepherd's pie in the oven."

Elizabeth glanced at the clock. "Keep it warm, Violet, there's a dear. I won't be long, I promise."

"I think you're spending entirely too much time down
at that Winnie's cottage." Violet turned down the heat in the oven. "No wonder you're getting behind with the bookkeeping. I don't know what people will think, really I don't. It's not proper for a lady of your standing to be running around the village like this, in and out of people's cottages. Rita Crumm said you were out on the coast road with them. Said you were taking training so you could help kill the Germans when they came ashore for the invasion." Violet crossed her arms and fixed her stern gaze on Elizabeth's face. "I didn't believe her, of course. I hope you're going to tell me that's not true."

"Of course it's not true." Elizabeth pulled her light cotton jacket from the back of her chair and slipped it on over her frock. "Well, I suppose I was out there—"

Violet's gasp of outrage stopped Elizabeth for a moment, then she doggedly continued. "But I most certainly did not participate in any training. I happened to run into them, that's all."

"Not literally, I hope."

"No, but it was a miracle I didn't." Elizabeth crossed the room to the door. "One of these days Rita Crumm is going to cause a real disaster with her misguided efforts to be a hero."

Violet grinned. "And you can't wait for that day, can you."

Elizabeth shrugged. "I wouldn't want to see anyone get hurt." She met Violet's gaze and laughed. "All right, I admit I'd like to see Rita Crumm fall flat on her face. Figuratively speaking, of course."

Violet nodded. "Of course."

Elizabeth decided it was time to leave before she incriminated herself. It took her only a minute or two to retrieve her handbag and gloves from her room. As she headed back to the stairs, however, Polly appeared from
the bathroom, bucket in one hand, mop in the other.

For a moment Elizabeth didn't recognize her. Her hair had been twisted up into a sophisticated style that looked much too mature for a young girl. It was really too bad these girls couldn't wait to grow up. If only they could realize that being an adult was not nearly as exciting and mysterious as they imagined.

Polly looked almost scared as she plopped the bucket down and advanced toward her. "Can I have a word with you, Lady Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth felt a pang of apprehension. Surely Polly wasn't going to give in her notice? If so, she couldn't deal with it right now. Hoping to put off what would amount to disaster, she shook her head. "I'm in rather a hurry, Polly. Can it wait until this afternoon?"

"Oh, I won't keep you a minute, m'm. I was just wondering if I could help you out in the study now and then."

Elizabeth paused and frowned at her. "I don't understand, Polly. I thought you already cleaned the study. Isn't that one of your normal duties?"

"Oh, yes, m'm. It is. I mean, I do." Polly wound the long wet strands of the mop around her fingers. "What I was wondering, m'm, was if I could perhaps help you write letters, pay the bills, that sort of thing."

All she could think about was the fact that Polly wasn't leaving after all. She smiled her relief. "Well, thank you, Polly, but I really don't need any help. Besides, you're always complaining that you have too much to do now." She snapped her fingers. "By the way, as long as we're addressing the subject, I was wondering if perhaps you could come in full time when the Americans move in. In spite of Major Monroe's good intentions, I'm quite sure there'll be quite a lot more work to take care of with our house guests in the east wing."

"Yes, of course, m'm." Polly looked almost desperate in her eagerness. "In which case I'll have plenty of time to help you out in the study. Really. I won't disturb you or nothing. I promise. I just want to help, that's all."

The girl looked so distraught that Elizabeth felt quite sorry for her. She couldn't help feeling there was something behind Polly's request that the girl wasn't telling her, but she didn't have time to worry about it now. "I really don't know what you could do to help," she said, edging past her, "but I'll think about it, all right?"

Polly nodded, though she didn't look too reassured. "Thank you, Lady Elizabeth. I'm much obliged."

"Not at all." Elizabeth fled before she agreed to something she'd regret later.

Running down the stairs, she almost collided with Martin, who hovered in the shadows at the bottom, apparently trying to decide where he wanted to go next.

"Madam!" he exclaimed as she rushed past him, "is everything all right? You look as if someone is chasing you." He peered up the stairs in alarm. "The Germans haven't arrived, have they? I haven't got my sword with me to protect you."

"There are no Germans, Martin," Elizabeth called out breathlessly, "so you can stop worrying about your sword. Go on down to the kitchen. Violet has dinner almost ready." She flew out of the front door and down the steps, grimly reflecting that should the Germans arrive at the Manor House, Martin was going to need a great deal more than a sword for protection.

Hot on the heels of that thought came the reminder that with several American airmen in the house, she, Violet, and Martin would at least have some defense against the invaders. The notion made her feel almost light-
hearted as she wheeled her way down the lane to Winnie's cottage.

When she arrived there, Winnie was hanging over the garden gate, obviously watching for her. "Oh, thank you for coming, m'm," she cried, the second Elizabeth climbed off her motorcycle. "Come on in. I've got the kettle on."

"Oh, no more tea, thank you, Winnie. I'll float away if I drink any more right now. Do tell me, though. What's in the letter?"

"Come inside, and I'll give it to you." Winnie scuttled up the path, then waited for Elizabeth to go in ahead of her.

The letter lay on the small table by the front door, where Winnie had apparently dropped it after reading it. She hadn't even stopped to put it back inside the envelope. "Here, m'm," she said, picking it up. "Read for yourself."

Elizabeth quickly scanned the lines scribbled unevenly across the blue-lined paper. In the very first sentence, Steve demanded to know why Beryl hadn't arrived in London. Apparently he'd waited over an hour at Liverpool Street Station for her. From what Elizabeth could understand from the untidy scrawl, the two of them had an appointment with someone to end Beryl's pregnancy. According to Steve, the so-called doctor she was supposed to meet was livid when Steve had told him Beryl hadn't turned up.

Elizabeth shuddered. "She was going to get rid of the baby? That poor child."

Winnie just nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.

In the next part of the letter, Steve told Beryl that he'd been thinking things over, and now regretted telling her he couldn't marry her.

If you've changed your mind about getting rid of the baby, I'm ready to get married. What I did was wrong, I know that now, and it's up to me to put things right. I really do love you, Beryl, and I'll be a good father to our baby. Please let me know what you think All my love, Steve
.

Her heart aching, Elizabeth put down the letter and picked up the envelope. Turning it over, she looked at the date. It had been posted on the day after Beryl had died. "He'll have to be informed, of course," she said, dropping the envelope back on the table.

"I'll write and tell him." Winnie uttered a shuddering sigh. "He was ready to marry our Beryl. She didn't have to go through all that mess with that Yank. If only that Steve had sent this letter sooner, our Beryl might still be alive."

"I'm so sorry, Winnie. I know how you must feel." Elizabeth patted the forlorn woman on the shoulder. "But the fact remains that someone did kill Beryl. Only now it appears we have run out of suspects."

Winnie took out her handkerchief and rubbed her nose. "If only I hadn't taken those blinking tablets that Saturday night. I might have woken up earlier on Sunday morning before Beryl left the house. I might have stopped her wherever she was going, and she might never have died."

"You've got to stop blaming yourself," Elizabeth said sharply. "Beryl was killed for a reason, one we might never know now. But whatever it was, it had nothing to do with what you did or didn't do, and there is absolutely no point in tormenting yourself. You have to accept what happened and try to go on as best you can."

"I know you're right, m'm." Winnie sniffed loudly.
"But it would be so much easier if I knew who killed her and why he did it. It's like there's no real ending to this, isn't it."

"I'm sorry." Elizabeth wished she could think of something better to say than those two trite words. "Maybe the inspector will be able to find out who the culprit is when he gets here."

"If he gets here. He's probably much too busy to worry about what goes on in our little village." Winnie blew her nose and stuffed the handkerchief back in her apron pocket. "Well, I mustn't keep you, Lady Elizabeth. You've already spent far too much time on my troubles lately." She opened the door again to let her visitor out. "I really appreciate everything you've done. I'm just sorry I wasted your time."

"It's never a waste of time to help people in need." Elizabeth stepped out onto the path. "I just wish I could have found the answer to all this." She turned to go, then paused as she caught sight of a stocky figure tramping up the lane, dressed in the dark blue uniform of the Royal Navy. "Isn't that—" she began, but with a cry Winnie interrupted her.

"Stan! It's my Stan!"

Elizabeth watched as the stout woman tore down the path and through the gate. At the sight of her, the sailor dropped his duffel bag and held out his arms. Winnie rushed right into them, and he closed them around her. He held her close, while her sobs drifted on the wind to where Elizabeth stood, her own tears forming in her eyes at the sight.

She walked slowly down the path to the gate, then out to her motorcycle. The engine cut through the still air, startling the couple who still clung to each other in the middle of the road.

Elizabeth drew level with them and smiled at Winnie's husband. "Please accept my deepest sympathy for the loss of your daughter," she said, "and welcome home. Your wife needs you."

Apparently overcome, Stan Pierce nodded and drew his wife's trembling shoulders closer to his body.

Elizabeth left them there, sharing their grief together beneath the warm summer sky.

She took her time riding home. She needed the clean, fresh air rushing past her face with its tangy scent of the ocean to clear her mind. It was obvious Steve hadn't killed Beryl, since he'd mailed the letter from London the day after she'd died. Carol, Robbie, and Evan all had airtight alibis for the morning Beryl died.

So why did she still feel she was missing something important? Her conversation with Winnie kept playing through her mind. Something about the woman taking sleeping tablets bothered her. Elizabeth cast her mind back, to the day Winnie had first told her that Beryl was missing. What were Winnie's exact words?

"I didn't see her come in, but I heard her all right. I was half asleep, but I called out to her. She never answered me."

The thought hit her like a thunderclap. What if Beryl hadn't answered
because it wasn't Beryl who Winnie had heard?
Elizabeth's start of excitement almost unseated her. She grasped the handlebars more tightly and choked on the throttle. She had to think this through. She had to remember what else it was that Winnie had said.

"She was gone by the time I got up. Never made her bed before she went out neither. Whatever got her out of the house that early on a Sunday must have been really important."

Right after dinner, Elizabeth decided with mounting
excitement, she'd call the medical examiner. Stella Sheridan, the doctor's wife, had worked on several charity committees with her. It shouldn't be too difficult to ask the doctor one simple question.

Violet was happy to hear that Stan Pierce had arrived home at last. "Now perhaps you'll stop running down to Winnie's house every five minutes," she muttered as she drew the steaming pie from the oven. "Perhaps we can have our meals on time now. Martin has been drooling at that table for almost an hour."

"I beg your pardon?" Martin sniffed with contempt. "I do not drool. Saint Bernards drool. Butlers do not."

Violet dumped the dish on the table. "Well, just try to stop your mouth watering around that, if you can."

Martin picked up his serviette and dabbed at his mouth. "It's my false teeth," he muttered. "They always start dribbling whenever I smell food cooking."