Death at the WI

by Oster, C. G.

  The train wasn’t particularly occupied. This wasn’t the commuter train. Perhaps Dory could take the commuter train back with Michael in the evening—if she ended up staying that long. It would mean she wouldn’t have time to prepare dinner.

  The scenery outside passed by and she took account of what she was doing, and what she wanted to ask these women. And then she spent a moment to mentally explain to Lady Pettifer everything that had happened, and wondered how she was getting on down in France. Likely they had a calm and relaxing time, the weather growing pleasantly cooler, while here, the mornings were getting frosty and wet humidity set in once it rained. So far, the weather was holding.

  By the time she got out of the tube station in Hackney, it had started drizzling and she consulted the map on the wall of the tube station, searching for the street she was after. Lizzie Manners was who she was here to see.

  As she walked down the street, she saw that much of the rubble had been cleared away, but not a great deal of rebuilding had happened. There were still empty lots everywhere, and children playing in them. A spear of guilt shot through her, because more effort seemed to have been spent building the lovely new developments like the one she lived in than rebuilding the East End. But it was as lively as ever. The shops were all open, a few of them with their glass windows still boarded up.

  The street she sought wasn’t far from the tube station and she found the address after asking. The building still stood, which was something. If Lizzie wasn’t here, Dory would find the shop where her rations were. They’d know where to find her.

  Dory knocked on the first door and then asked if they knew where Lizzie Manners was. An older woman opened the door with a suspicious glare. “What you want with Lizzie?” the woman asked.

  “Just to ask her some questions about a man she knew in Beaconsfield.”

  “What man?”

  “Do you know where Lizzie is?” Dory asked with a smile. If she allowed it, the woman would interrogate her for everything.

  “She’s working.”

  “Do you know where?”

  “The Dalston Lane laundry.”

  “Thank you very much. I’ll see if I can find her there.”

  The door slammed in her face before she had a chance to say anything else and Dory now had to find Dalston Lane. It wasn’t hard to find someone who knew, and she made her way. On the way, she bought two ham sandwiches wrapped in paper. They were expensive, but it would be worth it.

  The woman who owned the laundry wasn’t excited to have one of her workers asked for, but Lizzie was retrieved. The owner stood by with crossed arms as Dory spoke to the young woman with light brown hair and a gentle face.

  “Yeah, I remember him,” Lizzie said with lack of enthusiasm.

  “When you have a break, could you please come talk to me about your observations of him?”

  The girl was suspicious of her too. “What’s he saying?” she said.

  “Nothing, as it happens. We can’t find him.”

  “Did a runner, did he?” This seemed to amuse her. “Maybe that wife of his did him in.”

  “I’ll buy you a sandwich for your effort,” Dory said and that seemed to tip Lizzie’s sentiment in Dory’s favor.

  “Alright then,” she said. “Half hour.”

  “I’ll be outside.” Dory smiled as she left and then found a wooden carton under an awning to sit on while she waited. She watched people for a while. It had been a few years since she’d lived in London, but it seemed itself. Children played, people worked.

  “Right, then. What do you want to know?” Lizzie asked, appearing beside her and Dory quickly rose. She handed the wrapped sandwich over to Lizzie, who opened it to check if it was genuine. “Ham. Nice.” She took a bite.

  “Some people in the village believe he was sweet on one of the of girls that came from London, and left to join them here.”

  “Who would have him?” Lizzie said dismissively. “Lord knows he tried it on with every girl, but no one wanted him.”

  “So you haven’t heard anything about him coming to London?”

  “Nah. No one was planning on taking him with them. At least not so they’d admit.” After eating half the sandwich, she folded the paper around it and put it in her pocket. “If he were unmarried and had that farm, there might be something to have, but he was married, and I doubt his own wife wanted him. Without the farm, there wasn’t much to say for the man. There’s enough drunks around here to save you the effort to bring one with you, if that’s your taste.” It seemed Lizzie had a mercenary bent when it came to relationships.

  “So you don’t know of anyone who was getting close to him?”

  “Drunk and surly. Maybe there’s some women who get heart flutters about that, but I don’t know any.”

  Dory wasn’t convinced that was entirely true, because there were always women who sought to rescue men, but Lizzie Manners wasn’t one of them. There was a hard edge to her, in spite of her gentle features.

  “Did you hear anything about the relationship with his wife?”

  “Can’t say I paid much attention.” It wasn’t hard to see that Lizzie couldn’t care less about Ruben Stubbs, even if he had disappeared.

  “Of the evacuated girls, who would say knew him best?”

  “I don’t think any of us did, but you never know who’d sneak around after dark. There’s always stupid people, ain’t there? I’d better get back, or they’ll dock my wages.”

  “Well, thank you so much for talking to me.”

  Lizzie’s goodbye was more like a dismissive grunt. As Dory watched her go, she considered what she’d just learnt. According to Lizzie, no one was hanging on bated breath for his attention, but that could be her perspective. It sounded as if Lizzie had dismissed him from the onset and kept it that way. It would be interesting to note if her view on it was a consensus between the other women. Maybe one of them had been more observant.

  Chapter 28

  THE NEAREST PERSON ON THE list was Mildred Waldop, who lived in Whitehall. Dory made her way on one of the buses and was dismayed how much of the damage from the bombing hadn’t changed one bit. Granted, much of the debris had been cleared away, but practically no rebuilding had started. There were even some makeshift houses made out of scraps and plywood in a few places. As before, there were damaged buildings that people had tried to repair as best they could.

  The house Mildred lived in was one of those houses. Many of the windows had make-do shutters. At least it was still standing, and the flat she was looking for was on the second floor. The hallway was dark and smelled badly, the door frame slanted slightly. This building was not particularly safe, but it had obviously been cleared enough for these people to still live here. Or it was desperation. Dory knew the dangerous houses had been torn down, so this one must have been borderline. Not that she would like to live in it.

  A child was grizzling as a young woman opened the door. She looked haggard and tired, three young children in her care in this one room.

  “What you want?” she demanded as she saw Dory. “You from the council?”

  “No,” Dory said. “I’ve come from Beaconsfield.”

  “Oh, aye. What do you want?” This woman wasn’t from London originally. Somewhere up north, Dory guessed.

  “I was hoping to ask you some questions about a Mr. Stubbs. I brought some sandwiches to share. Ham.” After the success with Lizzie Manners, Dory had gone back and bought two more of them, hoping they would prove equally as enticing.

  The woman looked her up and down. “What about him?”

  “I just wanted to hear your impressions of him. The people in the village say one thing about him, but I wanted to hear your thoughts. He’s missing, you see. And some people are different with people they know less than they are with people they’ve known all their lives.”

  “Well, I didn’t know him,” she said defiantly.

  “Did any of the women from London know him particularly?”

&nbs
p; Mildred shrugged. “Not that I knew. God knows there’s not a lot of handsome men in that village, but one had to be quite desperate to take up with him.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You know those men and you know they don’t like women. Well, he was one of them. I’m sure he’d get in someone’s knickers given half a chance, but he wasn’t looking for a sweetheart. I saw him a time or two at the pub. Sunday afternoons, mind you.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He wanted to buy a tractor, I think.”

  “A tractor?” Dory repeated.

  “Something to do with increasing his yield. Also something about buying more land.”

  This was not what Dory had expected to hear. This wasn’t something anyone had mentioned before, but there really wasn’t any reason Mildred would lie, unless she was the one that had run off with him. By the look of it, though, there wasn’t a man living in this room.

  And if he was talking about buying tractors and land, it didn’t sound like a man who was so unhappy with his life he was willing to walk away from it with little more than the clothes on his back. It suggested something much more grim.

  “It’s said he’s a violent man,” Dory said.

  “I can believe it. He seemed to have a temper.” Well, that corresponded with the impression of most. Except for Marjorie. Maybe Marjorie had a soft spot for him, but it was hard to imagine considering how disapproving she was in most things. But it could be.

  “Did you ever see Edith Wallis?”

  “I saw her in the village a time or two. Not the friendliest, but she was courteous enough. The women in the village didn’t much like us. Probably thought we were there to steal their rotten men.”

  “Did you ever see anything between her and Ruben Stubbs?”

  “Not that I saw. I think she was friends with his wife. What was her name?”

  “Eleanor.”

  “Never saw her more than a time or two either.”

  “Were there any children at the Stubbs farm?”

  “Don’t think so. I don’t think Mr. Stubbs could abide kids, and I guess those cows at the WI felt it would be too cruel to subject one of them to him. Too right, I reckon. Don’t think he’d have it when they came asking. They asked everyone, you know.”

  “So I understand.”

  “I stayed in the rectory. It was alright, but there were more rules than school. I was happy enough to leave, but I do miss the fresh air sometimes. Still, as with most of us, we know where we belong and where we don’t. And in all honesty, I don’t think any of them would be welcoming for longer than they had to.” It seemed Mildred had a poor view of the people from Beaconsfield. “So what do you think happened to him?” she asked.

  “We’re not sure. Many think he came to London.”

  “That’s not a city man,” she said pointedly.

  “I think you’re right. But if he didn’t leave, he’s nowhere to be found.”

  “Might be he’s buried in someone’s back garden. Don’t expect anyone would cry for him. But no, if you’re expecting to find him in London, you’re going to be disappointed. Can’t see someone like him living in the city.”

  At this point, Dory couldn’t think of anything else to ask, so she gave the woman the ham sandwich and then decided to give her the other one too as those children behind her could likely use it more than Dory could.

  “Thank you for your time,” Dory said. “If you think of anything, please call me. My name is Mrs. Dory Ridley. The operator should be able to put you through. I’d pay for it.”

  “You’d have to, because I wouldn’t waste my money on Ruben Stubbs,” she said and closed the door.

  Despite people living in the building, Dory was glad to get out of it. It smelled terribly and was noisy, and potentially structurally unsound. But people had to take what they could these days. Likely it had affordable rent.

  Once outside, Dory stared up at the building. That had been an interesting interview, particularly as it gave some insight into Ruben Stubbs’ mind that was different from what others were telling her. If true, it suggested he had no plans of leaving town. Worthing could ask others if they’d heard him talk about buying tractors and land at the pub.

  If he had, then there was a good chance that Ruben Stubbs was dead. Someone had killed him and then hid the body. If it had been an accident, he would have been found by now. No, being unfound this long suggested someone had hid him somehow. Most likely buried him, which meant he could be anywhere. Even on his own farm.

  It also suggested that his wife was involved because she’d lied about receiving a call from him. There was nothing to particularly disprove her claim. At this point, there was no evidence either way. But they now needed to probe these claims that they had accepted as facts before. Had he been seen in Aylesbury? Did he call his wife after he’d supposedly died? And lastly, where was he?

  Finding bodies wasn’t something she had any level of expertise in. Neither did Worthing, unfortunately. Maybe with this new knowledge, Worthing’s superiors would be willing to send more resources to assist him. Edith Wallis’ death wasn’t an accident, and now it looked like they had two murders in the village.

  As she started walking, she decided she should tell Michael what she’d discovered. In the end, she’d decided not to wait because she needed to. Partially, she didn’t like doing all these things and not being upfront about the fact that she was helping Constable Worthing, but his experience had proven invaluable so far, even if he hadn’t fully intended on giving them direction.

  The question now was if Edith’s murder was related to Ruben Stubbs’ murder. They had to be linked somehow. Edith must have known something. That knowledge could have been the reason she’d withdrawn around the time of his disappearance. She’d known what had happened. And she may even have known who was responsible.

  It seemed she hadn’t told anyone what she’d known, but the culprit must have found out about it. Most likely, it was Eleanor Stubbs who’d done it. She had the most to gain from it. Somehow Edith had found out.

  As far as Dory could recall, they hadn’t even asked where she was during the time Edith was murdered. She hadn’t been in the picture at the time.

  Constable Worthing had to know this at the earliest opportunity. For this reason, Dory chose not to wait for Michael to finish work and took the earlier train back to Beaconsfield. This was a lead that couldn’t wait, particularly if Eleanor was willing to do away with people who threatened her.

  Really, Dory hadn’t had a suspicion that Eleanor she was a murderer when she’d met her, but perhaps she should have. It was often the closest people to the victim who were responsible. Perhaps because Ruben Stubbs was known to be the violent one, and Eleanor had largely been the victim. That had colored Dory’s perception, and she hadn’t seriously considered Eleanor as the person responsible. Even for Edith.

  It all made sense now.

  Chapter 29

  FROM THE BEACONSFIELD train station, Dory ran to the village square and was relieved to see the door to the police station was still open. “Constable Worthing?” she called as she entered in a rush. He sat at his desk, viewing a folder in front of him before he looked up.

  “Mrs. Ridley. Did you find any of the women? As expected, the operators at the exchange couldn’t say if a call had been placed to the Stubbs’ farm. But no substantial sums were withdrawn from their bank account.”

  Impatiently, Dory listened as she took a seat. “Well,” she started as he finished, “I spoke to two of the women, and it seemed no one had a particularly good opinion of Mr. Stubbs. They certainly didn’t think he ran away with anyone. In fact, he seemed particularly unsuited for city life according to one of them. And the same woman, a Mildred Waldop, mentioned overhearing him talking in the pub about buying a new tractor, and additional land. That doesn’t sound like a man who is considering walking away from his life?”

  “I have to agree,” Worthing said. “Even more t
elling is this letter that’s come from the Ministry of Food, which states that Mr. Stubbs’ rations were never transferred out of the village.”

  Dory blinked. “If he had transferred his rations somewhere, he would have also transferred out of the village. That is clever investigating. So while there is no direct proof, it does appear that he never left the village. Yet, Mrs. Stubbs received a call from him. That statement is the only bit of evidence there is. It clearly points to an attempt to deceive. She has to be responsible. Edith must have known. It must be the cause of her quiet and withdrawn behavior at the time he disappeared. She must have known, and had become a liability. Maybe it was her reconnection with the WI that made her seem more of a threat to Eleanor Stubbs.”

  “But I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Worthing cut in. “Mrs. Stubbs had company during the period when Edith Wallis was harmed.”

  Dory’s eyes shifted between his as she took this in. Eleanor had an alibi. “Are you sure?” This couldn’t be.

  “And it is someone quite credible. A veterinarian from High Wycombe. The relationship doesn’t appear to be close enough that he would lie for her in such a thing. A professional and well-respected man.”

  “So it couldn’t have been her,” Dory said with shock and disappointment. She’d been so convinced she had the answer. Everything they’d learned pointed to her being responsible.

  “It would all be more convincing if we knew where his body was, which we don’t. We cannot say with absolute certainty that he didn’t leave the village. It is all circumstantial evidence, and not enough to make a case to arrest her. And in the case of Edith Wallis, she has a strong alibi.”

  “So you still think she is responsible?” Dory asked. “She did lie and tried to make it seem as though he had simply left the village.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I suspect when we uncover the source of the supposed sighting of Mr. Stubbs leaving on the bus in Aylesbury, we might find it comes from the same source.” Except now Dory was uncertain. Eleanor’s alibi meant she couldn’t have killed Edith. So who had? There was no other motive.