Murder At Zero Hour

by Paul Westwood

  Chapter 6

  The Past

  I was too stunned by this news to even speak. I merely stared at Lyons in disbelief and felt my mouth open but not make a sound. My head nodded slowly. It seemed impossible that Meadowes could be dead, and the terrible events of the night only made the news worse.

  Lyons eyes were misted with near tears. He explained. “He must have been hit by a German rifle bullet as he was watching Prentice move over No Man's Land. It was truly a one in a million shot.”

  All I could do was nod numbly. I cleared my throat and said, “I want to see him. Let me take a look at him.”

  “It's not something you would want to see,” he said. “It looks rather ghastly.”

  “I'm afraid the lieutenant is right,” Owens agreed solemnly. “It would be better if you remembered the captain as he was.”

  “Damn it,” I cried out, “don't treat me like a child. I’ve already seen enough dead men. What does one more matter?” Even though I was exhausted, I managed to pull myself up from the ground. I glared at the two of them and began walking.

  Lyons gave me a dark look, and with Owens tagging behind, we went along the trenches to find the body of Captain Meadowes. As we went, a rifle bullet cracked over our heads and another shell exploded nearby. The Germans were still riled up.

  Poor Meadowes was lying face down in the spot where had fallen. His servant, Private Hill, was standing guard and had to turn his head away in shame as we approached. In the dim dawn light there were traces of tears down his mud-encrusted face.

  “Have you touched the body?” I asked him.

  He was quite devoted to the old Captain and was fighting back his emotions as he spoke. “No, sir, I haven’t,” he replied and kept his face turned to the ground.

  “Did you see him get shot?”

  “No. He sent me running to headquarters to call in some more artillery support.”

  I flicked on my flashlight and looked over the body lying on top of the dirty duckboards. The captain's field glasses were on the ground next to him, the straps intertwined in his clutched fingers. With the beam of light I was able to see that a neat hole was drilled in the back of his head. Blood had stained the wood and dripped into a thick pool on the mud below. Crouching down on the ground, I turned over the body and looked at the staring face. There was a small scrape on the forehead and a bruised blotch on the cheek. After seeing this, I snapped the torch shut as to not attract any further attention from the Boche. They might drop a few rounds our way if they saw a glint of light shining from our trench for too long.

  Lyons and Owens were looking at me expectantly.

  There was a dim train of thought in my mind. It was only had a glimmer of an idea that I had. In my mind's eye, I saw Meadowes scanning No Man's Land with his field glasses. His attention would be fully on the battlefield before him, and with the sound of battle, he wouldn't be able to hear anyone coming up from behind. It would have been easy for someone to get in close and kill the unsuspecting captain. But who?

  “I don't think it was a German bullet that killed him,” I finally said. Even in the early morning gloom, I could see the surprise in their faces.

  “What do you mean, Grant?” Lyons asked. “Are you sure this is the time and place to be playing detective?”

  “I'm not playing anything. I'm serious. Look, if a German bullet blew off the back of his head, there wouldn't have been anything left of it. From the wound, it looks more likely as if it was a small caliber bullet from a pistol.”

  “Come on, Grant. Perhaps it was some shrapnel - plenty of shells going off tonight.”

  Owens got on his knees, turned the head and looked closely at the wound. “Sir, I’m afraid Lieutenant Grant is right. This is a perfectly round entrance hole, caused by a pistol fired at close range. You can even see a bit of burnt hair here. Shrapnel wouldn't have pierced his skull like that. Trust me, I've seen enough death here to know that.”

  Lyons looked back and forth between the two of us as if he was measuring our words and trying to find a fault in our argument.

  I flicked on my torch again and motioned to the parapet wall. The torch showed a faint mark of blood on the wood supporting the parapet wall. “Look here. There is a bit of blood where his forehead must have struck when he pitched forward. Someone shot him in the back of the head while he was looking out towards the German line. It’s the only way it could have happened.”

  “Shut that damned thing off before the Germans see us,” the lieutenant said harshly.

  “Very well,” I said. I snapped off the light.

  Owens stood there watching us. He was a smart fellow, and I was glad that he agreed with my findings. I just hoped that Lyons would agree with what I was about to say next. “I think someone in our own company must have killed the Captain.”

  “Like who?” he asked doubtfully. “He was a right popular man around here.”

  I shrugged and said, “I don't know right now, but who else could it be?”

  Lyons stared at me.

  I said to my sergeant, “I want you to go back to Captain Meadowes’ quarters and stand guard until we get there. On your way, get a stretcher party to take the body away. There is no reason for Hill to stand out here any longer and get himself killed.”

  “Very good, sir,” Owens said. He then saluted. He was then off like a shot running down the trench lines. As I said, he was a very good man. I was glad he was here to help.

  “Let’s return to headquarters,” I said to Lyons, and we started in that direction leaving Hill to guard the body. We both ducked our heads down as we heard a shell drop nearby. It was easy for me to forget I was in a middle of war when I had murder on my mind.

  “The colonel won’t be too happy on tonight’s results with Prentice,” my friend commented. “And the death of Captain Meadowes will certainly complicate things around here. I just hope Smythe sends us a decent replacement.”

  “Damn the colonel and damn the replacement,” I snapped back and felt a twinge of dislike for Lyons that I had never felt before. I swept back the dark curtains to our headquarters and let him step through first. He stopped short, and I heard him swear underneath his breath. When I stepped inside, I saw the reason for this exclamation. The whole place had been thoroughly ransacked from top to bottom. Papers were littering the floor, the table had been turned on its side, and even the mattresses in the back room had been slit open. Someone had come here and tore this place up, but for what purpose?

  “What in the hell happened here?” Lyons said as he turned up a chair to sit down and look over the damage. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “A hurried search was made,” I replied. “Whoever killed Captain Meadowes came back here to find something that was hidden away.”

  “There you go with that murder theory of yours,” he said tartly. “You should give it a rest.”

  “Look, Lyons, you and I usually see things eye-to-eye. Why won’t you believe that the captain was murdered?”

  “I can't. It’s all just too fantastic. We’re in the middle of a war where thousands of unlucky fellows are getting killed every week. And I’m supposed to believe that Captain Meadowes was shot in the back of the head by one of his own men? I know soldiers can be a vindictive lot, but I can’t think of one that would gladly pull that trigger against a good officer like him.”

  I frowned at him and said, “At times you can be quite the stubborn ass.”

  His eyes widened at my words. “Now there’s no reason to be testy, my American cousin. If you’re so smart then why don’t you tell me all about it?”

  Shooting him another nasty look, I replied, “What do you think I’ve been trying to do? Obviously someone had it in for the Captain and then went looking here for something. When I know more, I’ll fill you in.”

  “Very well, old chap. Perhaps I’ll give that colonel of ours a call and tell him the bad news.
” Lyons dug through the littered floor until he found the telephone under a pile of papers.

  As he rang through, I began putting the mess into some kind of order. I could hear the one-sided conversation as I worked.

  “Captain Wodenhill? This is Lyons here.” He made a face at me since he shared my dislike for the man. “I’m afraid that I have a bit of bad news for Colonel Smythe.” He lit a cigarette as he listened to the reply on the other end. “Yes, this is about Prentice and that fool mission you gave him. He wasn’t able to get through the German line at all and was shot up pretty bad. We don’t know yet what his condition is yet, but it doesn't look good.”

  He took a brief puff as he listened. He then answered, “And tell Smythe we will need a new Captain here. Meadowes bought it too.”

  I thought Lyons’ attitude was rather flippant, but he was always like that in a crisis. It was a likeable trait at times, but in such a situation as this, it was damned irritating. I suppose it was his way of coping with the stress of the front lines.

  After another pause, he said, “I’m afraid it isn’t quite that simple. Grant here thinks that Meadowes was murdered.”

  There was a loud squabble of words over the phone that I could hear even from where I was standing.

  Lyons listened patiently to the man on the other end, and then put his hand in the air as if to stop the rest of the conversation. He placated Wodenhill by saying, “Yes, I agree. But I'm sure it will all be sorted out soon enough. Grant here may be right. We have nothing to lose hearing him out.”

  He then said a few more words in farewell and hung up the phone. Stubbing out the cigarette, he turned to me and said, “You're not making any friends there. But what the hell do the staff officers ever know? Too much dug-out disease if you ask me. Well, Wodenhill decided to come over personally to look into the matter. Not that it will be any use to us.” He grinned and handed his pack of cigarettes to me.

  Taking one, I lit up and blew the harsh smoke out. I was exhausted and too tired to think clearly anymore. I could barely remember the last time I'd slept or eaten.

  Lyons said, “You know that was a brave thing you did out there – rescuing Prentice that is. Are you trying to win a medal or something?”

  “I was just doing my job,” I answered.

  “You and Prentice aren't exactly friends,” he said wryly.

  “We have our issues,” I agreed, “but I would expect him to do the same if I was in the same sort of trouble.”

  Lyons opened his trench lighter and clicked it a few times to watch the flame ignite. He smiled at me and said, “Then you certainly think better of Prentice than I do. I doubt the bastard would do anything of the sort. But after you saved his life, perhaps he’ll turn over new leaf and start treating you properly.”

  With a shrug, I replied, “It doesn’t matter what happens either way.”

  “True, the lucky old bugger may have gotten a ticket back home to old Blighty. If he has any luck, we may never see him again.”

  “That's not what I meant. I mean I would do the same even if he was my worst enemy. No man should have to die out there alone in No Man's Land.”

  Lighting another cigarette, he looked me over suspiciously. “Don't forget that most men won't do the same for you. Out here, it's every man for himself. There is no reason for heroics my friend– it’s unsafe and foolhardy at best.”

  The talk of Prentice had distracted me, but I ignored him and began sorting through the papers spread on the floor. There had to be something here that the captain's killer wanted. Something worth money, or some piece of information that was deemed valuable enough to kill for. But what could it be? Lyons continued to sit there, and I could feel his eyes on my back.

  He eventually said, “What are you looking for?”

  “Whatever the murderer was looking for,” I answered simply and continued to work through the mess. I turned the table back upright and began placing things back in order. There was nothing here out of the ordinary - papers containing supply requisitions, orders, and the various bureaucratic forms that plague any officer. It seemed that the higher the rank, the higher the pile of paper that follows you around.

  “Do you know anything out of the ordinary that Meadowes was working on?” I ventured to ask. “You were quite close to him.”

  With a sour laugh, he said, “I was never too good with paperwork. Prentice had the job of helping him out with that sort of thing.”

  “So you can't think of a single reason why anyone would ransack our headquarters like this?”

  “Not a single one,” he replied as he stubbed his cigarette out on the floor with his boot.

  “Thanks for nothing,” I said rather more nastily than I intended. I picked up the pile of papers and left him there. He didn't say a single word as I strode out into the bright dawn light. With a fast stroll, I made my way back to the billet. The Huns were in fine form that day. They were still in a nervous state from the night attack and continued to shell our lines. Quite a few coal-boxes dropped near me, so I had to scurry for what cover I could find. It took a while, but I finally reached the relative safety of the deserted village.

  The wrecked buildings and torn up roads only succeeded in making my dark mood worse. Captain Meadowes has been murdered, and here I was, stuck in this meat-grinder of a war. It all seemed useless. I was stuck so deep in my thoughts that my eyes were glued to the cobblestones in front of me. I finally yanked my head up when I heard shouting in the distance. It was Owens, and he was standing in front of my house, trying to attract my attention by waving at me. I trotted forward.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” he said excitedly.

  “What is it, Sergeant?” I demanded with what little breath I could muster.

  “It’s Meadowes's quarters, sir. I’m afraid it has been ransacked too.”

  The news wasn’t that unexpected, so I merely nodded and brushed past him. I immediately went to the captain’s bedroom and found it in disarray. Meadowes was normally a meticulous man and would have paled when he saw the current state of his belongings. They were scattered everywhere, and even the mattress had been ripped open, spilling straw onto the floor.

  Owens was standing behind me. I asked him, “Did you come directly here as ordered?”

  He shifted his feet back and forth, staring at the ground. “To be honest, sir, I stopped and had a quick chat with Corporal Childs. He was telling me all about the problems they had out there in No Man’s Land.”

  “I told you to come directly here, Sergeant. How long were you jawing with that good-for-nothing Childs?”

  “Only a few minutes, sir,” he replied. “Honest. I came here and found it like this. Word must have gotten out quick about the captain being dead, though I can’t imagine any of the boys taking the liberty of stealing from him.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Have you touched anything here?”

  “No, sir, it looks exactly as I found it.”

  Stepping gingerly into the room, I looked over the mess. There had to be something here that was important. The murderer must have quickly gone through our headquarters, and when he didn’t find what he wanted, decided to search here. Was the murderer successful in his search? I would have to take a look myself to try to determine what was missing. A near-impossible task since I didn’t even know what I was looking for.

  “Sergeant, I want you to help me look through the captain’s belongings.”

  His own thoughts mirrored my own when he asked, “What exactly are we looking for, sir?”

  I began digging through the captain’s bags and replied, “Anything out of the ordinary - a box, bag or book that an officer wouldn’t normally have.”

  “That doesn’t give me much to go on, sir,” Owens said as he finally joined in the search.

  We looked through that room thoroughly, going through everything that I could see. But it was all to no avail as we found nothing out of
the ordinary. It was just the type of kit you would expect any officer to have.

  “Doesn’t appear to be anything strange here, sir,” the sergeant said quietly.

  “I believe you’re right,” I said with disappointment. I then rested my right hand on one of the rough-cut ceiling beams above me and leaned forward to look at the debris on the floor. I was beginning to feel angry when I realized that there was a gap on top of the beam. I ran my hand down the length of the opening and felt something tucked away inside. I pulled it out in triumph and saw it was a small leather book.

  With his eyes wide in admiration, Owens said, “Good show!”

  I briefly studied the leather bound book and said, “Sergeant, I want you to find Lyons at headquarters. He’s there waiting for Captain Wodenhall to arrive. Could you have them come here as soon as possible?”

  He saluted and paused a moment before making his leave. “Sir, do you think you will be safe here? What will you do if someone comes back here while I am gone?”

  I touched the butt end of my pistol and replied, “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You should know that by now.”

  “Very good, sir.” He saluted yet again and took off.

  In the pale light coming through the window, I sat down at the desk and began examining the leather-bound book. It looked cheaply made, and I saw a London manufacturer stamped on the back. Turning to the first page, I saw it was first dated from seven months ago. There was a list of military goods, and a number that looked like a dollar amount jotted to the right. There was an itemized list of rifles, grenades, food, kits and everything else you could imagine - even tobacco. The quantities involved were nothing that would fully support a regiment like ours, but it was still quite a substantial number of goods being entered. I rifled through the pages and advanced quickly through the months. There was thousands of dollars worth of gear listed here.

  It didn't make any sense at first, but suddenly I remembered the packet of papers I retrieved from the floor of headquarters. I finally had some idea of what the book meant. Someone was pinching from our supplies and selling them for a profit. The book contained the entries of the stolen items being sold. It was Meadowes who had discovered the loss by studying the supply depot records. The question was how did he get a hold of this book?

  I heard the soft squeak of leather soles against wood. My hand reached for my pistol. Looking up, there was Corporal Childs standing in the doorway. His face was still darkened with cork from the night action. He pulled his cap off and saluted.

  “Can I be of any help, sir?” he asked. I caught his eyes lingering over the book and papers.

  “No thank you. What are you doing here?”

  “I thought Lieutenant Prentice would like to have his pipe. He's at the casualty station waiting for the lorry to pick him up and bring him to hospital. Word is he is going to be alright. I thought a bit of tobacco would cheer him up.”

  “I see,” I said. I shuffled the papers together and slid the book into my breast pocket. “Let’s go see if we can dig it up.”

  Feeling uneasy with Childs behind me, I led him to Prentice's quarters where I found his old pipe sitting on the windowsill. The corporal was unexpectedly quiet, and the little house now felt very still and menacing. He looked up at me with a grin and was about to speak when the front door opened.

  “Well, I best be off,” Childs said and quickly grabbed the pipe from my hand. He left before I could say another word, and I heard the side door shut as he went out.

  “Sir?” I heard Owens voice call out.

  “I'm in here,” I said and went to meet them in the hallway. Wodenhill and Lyons were there. The sergeant stepped aside to let them pass.

  Wodenhill was the first to speak. “Owens here said you have some evidence to bolster your claims that Meadowes was murdered.”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered and pulled out the book from my pocket. I handed it over and watched as the captain began paging through it.

  “What am I supposed to make of this gibberish?” Wodenhill said sharply. “There is nothing here but a list of goods.”

  “It goes on for some months, sir,” I answered. “Look at the other papers that I found at headquarters. Meadowes was gathering evidence that someone was pilfering from the general supplies and selling off the goods. If you look at the right hand column you can see the money amount for each transaction.”

  “What do you make of this?” he asked Lyons and shoved the book into his hands.

  He looked at the book momentarily and replied, “Well, sir, I do believe Lieutenant Grant here may be on to something. We have been short of many items that other regiments have plenty of.”

  “You would say that,” Wodenhill said wryly. “You two are chums and will say anything to help each other out.”

  I got a quick wink from Lyons, who said, “If you say so, sir. But nonetheless I do believe it is worth investigating. There is no harm in looking into the matter. If someone is nicking our supplies, then it certainly couldn't hurt to know.” He handed the book back to Wodenhill who weighed it in his hand.

  “Good,” he said. “I'll make sure this book reaches the right hands. The colonel will be most interested in this matter. Theft from an officer and murder are serious matters.”

  “Don't forget these, sir,” I said and handed the sheaf of papers over to him.

  He nodded and said, “You should know this is on the hush-hush, but this death of Meadowes couldn't come at a worst time.”

  “How is that?” Lyons asked.

  “I’ve heard there is going to be a big push against the Germans soon, and now we're suddenly short of two experienced officers. We will have to dig up a replacement quickly, and Smythe is not going to have an easy time of it. So the colonel and I need you two to be on your best behavior. Keep the men in line and drilled. Make sure Carter does his job too. This is going to be a very big offensive and every unit up and down the front line is going to be involved.”

  “So we're finally going to take it to the Germans?” Lyons asked grimly. I guess he wasn’t the type that wanted to charge over the top to glory. After tonight, I couldn’t blame him. We were going to run into nothing but barbwire, shrapnel and bullets.

  “This is going to end the war, Lieutenant,” Wodenhill exclaimed.

  “Don’t worry, sir, we will do our best,” Lyons said sourly.

  “Yes,” I agreed and hastily added in a salute.

  “Good, gentlemen. Mind what I said and keep this information to yourselves. But make sure to get your men prepared too.” He saluted both of us and left by the front door. It slammed heavily against the frame.

  “He's an insufferable ass,” Lyons said and shot me a nasty grin.

  Behind me came a low chuckle from the sergeant.

  Though I had no reason to be happy, I returned my friend’s look with a smile. I said, “It's a wonder that he ever became a captain.”

  “Oh, he's Smythe's golden boy. He can do no wrong in his eyes. You meet that type all over this army. It's a wonder that the Boche don't sweep right over us with those kinds of staff officers leading from the back of us.”