Manor House 01 - A Bicycle Built for Murder (4 page)

"We do have a chaperone. We have Martin."

Violet's derisive laugh echoed hollowly in the vast, empty room. "Fat lot of good he'd be. By the time he knew what was going on, one of those Yanks could have had his way with all three of us."

Elizabeth turned sharply. "That's enough, Violet. I don't believe in looking for trouble. I prefer to give Major Monroe and his men the benefit of the doubt and assume they are all perfect gentlemen."

"All I'm saying is that it doesn't hurt to be on guard. After all—"

Elizabeth raised her hand, effectively cutting off Violet's next words. "Isn't that the telephone ringing?"

Violet hurried over to the door. "I hope whoever it is hangs on until I get there. If you're going to open up this wing again, we should have another extension put in here. Otherwise we'll be running ourselves ragged with messages for them Yanks."

She disappeared through the door, and Elizabeth let out her breath in a long sigh. So many things to take care of, and the Americans hadn't even moved in yet. Heaven
help them all when that fateful day arrived. Right now the least of her worries was unwanted advances from the men. She'd had lots of practice defusing that sort of situation. If she couldn't keep a few boisterous Americans in their place, then she wasn't worthy of the Hartleigh name.

When she reached the kitchen, Violet was talking into the telephone, apparently attempting to pacify whoever was on the other end. Judging from the housekeeper's repeated orders to calm down, the caller was in a high state of agitation.

With a strong sense of impending disaster, Elizabeth whispered urgently, "Who is it?"

"Winnie Pierce." Violet held out the receiver. "She sounds awful. Says she has to talk to you."

Beryl
. Elizabeth placed the receiver against her ear and braced herself for bad news. "Winnie? Lady Elizabeth here. What's happened?"

She hardly recognized the agonized voice that answered her.

"It's Beryl, m'm," Winnie wailed. "They found her bicycle. Maude Dorsett's kids found it. Buried in the sand, it was. Down there on the beach below the coast road."

"Try to stay calm, Winnie, and take some deep breaths. The children didn't see Beryl?"

"No, m'm. No sign of her anywhere."

"Well, try not to worry. Just because her bicycle is there doesn't mean anything awful has happened to her. She could be anywhere. Have you called the hospital in North Horsham?"

"No, I haven't. I'm down here at the pub. I don't have a telephone at home. But George said he would call them."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "You've talked to George Dalrymple?"

"I had to, m'm. See . . . the kids went straight to the police station. They found Beryl's handbag in the front basket. That's how they knew it was her bicycle." Winnie choked on a sob. "Something terrible has happened to my little girl, I just know it. She'd never go nowhere without her handbag. Not our Beryl wouldn't."

Elizabeth had to agree. This looked serious. Especially now that the police were involved. "I'll be right down. Put the kettle on, Winnie, and we'll have a nice cup of tea." She replaced the receiver and exchanged a worried glance with Violet. "Maude Dorsett's children found Beryl's bicycle," she explained.

"Beryl wasn't there?"

"No, but her handbag was in the basket. I must go down there and talk to poor Winnie. She's quite frantic."

Violet shook her head. "That child. Always causing trouble, she is. What do you think happened to her?"

"I don't know. But I don't like the implications." Elizabeth hurried out into the hallway and pulled her coat from the heavy oak hallstand. "I won't be long, Violet. Perhaps you should take down those curtains in the east wing while I'm gone. They should at least be cleaned. Martin will help you."

"Does he have to?"

"I think so." Elizabeth crammed her hat on her head and secured it with a large pin. "It does make him feel useful. Just put up with him for a bit, will you? There's a dear."

"All right, if I must. But you be careful, duck. I don't like the idea of you getting involved in police business. Doesn't look good for the lady of the manor to be involved with the police."

"It's not really police business yet, Violet, is it. After all, Beryl is only missing. She could be anywhere."

"Well, let's hope for the best." Violet uttered a heavy sigh. "I just wish the master was here, that I do. He knew how to take care of things."

Elizabeth swallowed her resentment. "You worry too much, Violet. I'm just going to talk to Winnie, that's all. Cheer her up a bit, I suppose. Anyway, I'll be back in time for supper."

"I certainly hope so."

Violet was still muttering something when Elizabeth ran lightly down the steps to the driveway. Her motorcycle was still parked where she'd left it earlier, and she climbed aboard, anxious now to be on her way. She'd tried to make light of things for Winnie's sake, but she was very much afraid that for once Beryl Pierce had met with more trouble than she could handle.

Winnie was waiting for her at the garden gate when Elizabeth roared down the lane. This time she managed to halt the motorcycle a little more gently and climbed off for once without tangling her skirt in the kick stand.

Leaving the machine parked close to the hedge, she followed Winnie up the garden path and did her best to understand the distracted woman's breathless comments.

"I just know she's in really bad trouble," Winnie moaned as she closed the door behind her guest. "George thinks she rode off the cliff in the dark and fell in the sea. But what would she be doing that far off the road, and how could she ride over the railing? It wasn't broken or nothing."

Standing in Winnie's cramped living room, Elizabeth did her best to sound optimistic. "Well, we don't want to jump to conclusions, do we. Was the bicycle damaged?"

"Front wheel buckled. Though George did say that could have happened with the sea throwing it up against the cliffs. I just wish Stan was here. He'd know what to do."

She led the way into her minuscule kitchen, where a kettle whistled loudly on the gas stove. Elizabeth shooed a fat, gray cat off one of the chairs and sat down. "Did George keep Beryl's handbag?"

"No, m'm. It's upstairs. He left it in Beryl's bedroom after he searched in there."

"Did he find anything significant?"

Violet poured a small amount of the steaming water into her teapot, swished it around, then emptied it in the sink. "Not really. He didn't look that close. You know George, always anxious to be somewhere else."

Elizabeth wondered how George could possibly do his job if he was always in a hurry. "What about her handbag? Nothing in there out of the ordinary?"

Violet measured two large teaspoons of tea leaves into the teapot, then poured the boiling water on top of them. "Well, as a matter of fact, I did find something. I looked in it myself after George left. I don't know if he searched it or not. I haven't mentioned anything to him. I wanted to ask Beryl about it first." Her face crumpled up, and she began to cry. "That's if I ever see her again."

Elizabeth got to her feet and patted the woman's trembling shoulder. "There, there. I'm sure Beryl is fine. Let's drink our tea, and you can tell me what you found."

"I'm sorry for talking on so, Lady Elizabeth. It's ever so nice of you to come down here, really it is." Winnie dragged a large white handkerchief out of the pocket of her apron and loudly blew her nose. "It's just that at times like this I really miss my Stan. This bloody war and all." She stuffed the hankie back in her pocket. "I'm
all right now. Honest. Would you care for a piece of Dundee cake? I just made it this morning."

"Lovely!" Elizabeth sat down on her chair again and waited while Winnie poured the tea, then cut a large slice from the dark brown cake layered with almonds.

"Wherever did you get the nuts?" she exclaimed as Winnie sat the delicate cake plate in front of her. "I haven't seen almonds since the war began."

"Left over from Christmas." Winnie sat down on the other side of the small table and pulled her cup and saucer toward her. "Beryl got them for me, though she wouldn't say where. Black market, of course." She sent Elizabeth a guilty look. "Sorry, m'm, but everyone's doing it. Only way to survive, isn't it. None of us would have nothing if we didn't grab what we could when it's offered."

"That's all right, Winnie." Elizabeth bit into the soft, flavorful cake with relish. Although she wouldn't admit it, of course, she wasn't above bending the law herself now and then, if the occasion warranted it. After all, it was wartime. One did what one had to do. "This is really very good," she declared.

"Thank you, m'm. I do my best. That's a new recipe. Not bad, considering there are no eggs in there."

"There are no eggs? How marvelous!"

"I'll give you the recipe if you like."

"I'd love it. Violet hasn't made a cake since rationing began." She popped another piece in her mouth and savored every bite. "Now, tell me what you found in Beryl's handbag."

"Well, m'm, it was a train ticket. Here, I still got it in my pocket." Winnie fished in her pocket and came up with a small white card. "It's for London."

Elizabeth took the card and examined it. "It's a one-way ticket," she said in surprise.

"So I noticed," Winnie muttered. "That little bugger was planning on leaving and going up to London. Never said a word to me about it. She knew I would never let her go, of course. Not with all those bombs dropping all the time." She looked appealingly at Elizabeth. "Why would a young girl like her want to go to London, what with all those air raids and unexploded bombs and all? She must be crazy."

Elizabeth could think of a couple of reasons Beryl would prefer London to the sleepy existence of Sitting Marsh, but she refrained from mentioning them. "Well, obviously she's not there or she would have taken the ticket. What about her clothes?"

"All hanging in her wardrobe, same as usual."

"She hadn't packed anything?"

"Not even a handkerchief. Her suitcase is still lying on top of her wardrobe, and it's empty."

Elizabeth looked at the ticket again. "Then she wasn't planning on leaving right away. This ticket is valid for three months."

"You know what else is strange?" Winnie put her cup down in the saucer with a loud clatter. "I found something else in Beryl's handbag. It's an application to join the Land Army, from the recruitment center in North Horsham."

"Really?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't have thought Beryl would be interested in working on the land. I thought she enjoyed her job at the canning factory."

"Oh, she does, m'm. And that's a fact." Winnie dug into her apron pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of
cigarettes. She offered them to Elizabeth, who declined with a shake of her head.

"Thank you, but that's one habit I never did acquire."

"Nor did I, m'm, until Stan left to fight the Germans. Helps put up with the loneliness, you see."

Certainly better than the way some women had cured loneliness, Elizabeth thought darkly. "You were saying that Beryl seems happy with her job."

"Oh, that's right. Yes, well, she's met lots of nice people there, she has. That's what surprised me about that Land Army thing. Our Beryl is not the type to muck about on a farm. She's just not strong enough to lift anything heavy, and she hates farm animals. Frightened of them, she is."

Frightened of hard work more likely
, Elizabeth thought. "It does seem strange that she would consider joining the Land Army if she was planning on moving to London," she said slowly.

"Exactly what I thought." Winnie picked up her teacup and began swishing it around, then turned the cup upside down in her saucer. "Just wanted to see what my fortune was," she said, meeting Elizabeth's gaze. "You never know."

Elizabeth didn't really believe in all that nonsense, but she was intrigued nevertheless. She watched Winnie pick up her cup and peer cautiously at it.

"I'm getting a visitor," Winnie murmured. "Soon. Carrying a heart." She looked up. "Maybe it's my Stan getting a spot of leave."

"Let's hope so." Elizabeth smiled. "Anything else?"

"No, it's all cloudy at the bottom. Lots of confusion. Can't really tell anything from that. It happens sometimes." She set the cup down. "Like me to tell yours?"

"Oh, I don't know . . ." Elizabeth hesitated, then
handed over her cup. What harm could it do? Besides, it helped to keep Winnie's mind off her troubles for a while.

Winnie performed the same ritual with Elizabeth's cup, swishing it around three times, then turning it upside down on the saucer. After a moment or two she picked up the cup again and peered inside. "Oh, my," she exclaimed, her voice quickening. "You are going to have such a time. Lots of coming and going, lots of people all around you."

No doubt, Elizabeth thought grimly, with the invasion of the American air force in her home.

Winnie squinted her eyes. "What's this?" She peered closer. "You know a gentleman whose name begins with an
M
?"

"Martin," Elizabeth said promptly.

"I don't think so." Winnie lifted her face, and her eyes seemed to glisten with anticipation. "Whoever he is, m'm, it isn't Martin. That's for sure. This one's going to become very important to you, if you get my meaning. Very important, indeed."

CHAPTER
4

Elizabeth swallowed. "I don't think that's at all possible, Winnie, but thank you." She got to her feet and brushed a stray crumb from her skirt. "I wonder if you'd mind showing me Beryl's bedroom? I know George Dalrymple took a look at it, and I'm sure you have, too, but you might have missed something that would give us a clue to Beryl's whereabouts. Perhaps if we look together we might find something."

She'd made the suggestion more to change the subject than anything, but Winnie jumped to her feet at once. "That's a good idea, Lady Elizabeth. It's really good of you to offer to help. I'm ever so grateful. Really, I am."

"I'm not saying I can be of any real help," Elizabeth said, following Winnie up the narrow staircase.