A Simple Country Killing

by Blythe Baker

  I frowned into the shadowed alley, wondering how he could have possibly done that again. It seemed like every time I got close to him, he managed to find a way to keep his distance.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it shortly after. If some other unseen person was listening in, I didn’t want to give Roger or his position away. One thing was for certain; he wanted me to know he was there, and that he was watching.

  It was somewhat reassuring to realize that he was watching after me. Much like a guardian angel, he kept close tabs on me and ensured that I was doing all right.

  It made me wonder…had he been watching me as I went and inspected Lucas Adams’ shop? Had he followed me all the way there?

  And why had he chosen now to reveal himself again? Was it meant to be a message? Was he trying to communicate with me?

  I looked over my shoulder; no one had followed me into the alleyway. And looking further into the alley, all the way to the other side where sunlight spilled in between the homes, there was no one.

  But Roger couldn’t have gotten far. That much I knew for certain.

  I wished I could leave him a letter somewhere where he could easily find it. I supposed I could leave one in the postbox in front of my house, but it might seem strange if someone were to see him taking a letter from there as opposed to leaving one.

  How would a spy communicate? Letters could be intercepted. Roger knew this, which was why the code he’d hidden in the letter to me had been so obscure, so muted that anyone who wasn’t a spy would have thought nothing of it.

  Perhaps a letter was not the best way. Then how?

  It wasn’t as if I had much to leave behind to let him know that I had recognized him. My wedding ring was back at home, tucked away inside my jewelry box, and I didn’t feel comfortable just leaving that out somewhere for someone else to find.

  I touched my hat, considering the ribbon I’d tied around it, but quickly discerned that would likely fly away before Roger was able to get to it.

  Something more substantial, but perhaps less valuable?

  My hand fell over a brooch keeping the scarf wrapped around my neck. It had once belonged to my mother, though it had been in my possession for some time now. I was certain Roger would recognize it, as I’d worn it once or twice when he’d taken me dancing.

  The jewel encrusted lily was quite special to me, but it would likely be seen as nothing more than a costume piece to someone else, not worth much monetarily.

  I undid the brooch, and looked around for a place to keep it safe, where someone else wouldn’t happen upon it.

  The low rock wall that ran along either side of the narrow pathway in the alleyway must have been as ancient as the one that encircled my own home. And there were likely just as many loose rocks.

  It only took me a few moments of testing the stability of the rocks to find a loose enough one. Lifting it, I found a shallow indent in the mortar that was meant to hold the stone in place. I set the brooch down inside it, and covered it once again with the rock.

  I smiled. It was entirely inconspicuous now.

  But how would Roger know where to find it?

  I noticed names carved into the rocks of the walls of the surrounding buildings as well as the paths. Young men and women professing their love for one another, or people leaving behind messages of anger or hate, most of which had been scratched out by other rocks. The main graffiti I saw, though, were initials. Especially initials drawn inside of hearts scratched into the rocks.

  I grinned.

  Picking up a rock with a jagged edge, I, too, scrawled a heart into the stone that I’d tucked the brooch away underneath, followed by four initials.

  R.L. & H.L.

  The note fit in well among the others, and would likely go entirely unnoticed…except, I hoped, by Roger.

  Content with my own clever thinking, determined to come back and check in a day or two and see if the brooch was still there, I stood to my feet, dusting the powdered rock from my palms. I knew that if anyone else were to pass through here, they would not see the note, and they would never think to check under the rock.

  I turned and walked from the alley, feeling quite hopeful that I was about to communicate with the man who I had once considered dead, in a secretive way that only the two of us would know about.

  I started toward home when a voice made me stop dead in my tracks.

  “I thought that was you, slipping away into the alley…”

  I wheeled around and found myself standing face to face with Irene…and she looked none too pleased.

  “Irene,” I said, pulling the hat lower over my face while simultaneously pushing the sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. “How did you recognize me – ”

  “What on earth were you doing back there?” she asked in the motherly tone only she could use.

  I looked up at her, my cheeks flushing scarlet. “N – nothing,” I said automatically, and immediately regretted it. “Just – just stepped out of the sun for a moment.”

  Irene’s brow furrowed, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Why don’t you come with me?” she asked. “I think there are some things that we need to discuss.”

  A lump formed in my throat, but I didn’t argue with her. She was certainly right that there were things that had gone unaddressed between us, which were going to need addressing.

  I fell into step behind her, and followed her across the street toward the teahouse, which was just up the road a ways.

  I felt a bit like a schoolgirl who had skipped out on class, or been caught sleeping during a lesson. I wasn’t sure why the guilt was as strong as it was, but as we neared Irene’s house, the argument I’d had with her and Nathanial came back full force in my memory, and I began to wonder if she was simply pulling me aside so that she could scold me again for how I’d acted.

  I wouldn’t have blamed her, but the truth was I had a great deal more on my mind than I had that morning when I left their house before they’d all woken up.

  We walked into the teahouse, which was rather busy for a Friday morning, which was when most people went and stocked up on their goods for the week. Ration tickets were spent, and sometimes there wasn’t enough for anything non-essential. Weekends were certainly not what they used to be.

  Nevertheless, it seemed everyone was out enjoying the lovely weather, likely thinking it could be one of the last nice summer days before autumn began to settle into the rolling hills, turning the trees from their vibrant, lush green, to the golden and amber hues of the last season before winter.

  “Come with me,” Irene whispered over her shoulder as we wound our way through the tables, most of which were full by now.

  A few of the patrons turned to look up at me as we passed, but I didn’t see recognition on any of their faces as we made our way toward the back of the room.

  Irene pushed the kitchen door open, striding inside. I followed after, keeping pace.

  As soon as the door closed, though, she rounded on me, prodding me in the chest. “Why on earth did you think it was all right to just up and leave this morning like you did?” she asked.

  I hesitated, gaping at her. “I – I thought it was best – ” I started.

  Irene shook her head. “No. It was not best. And take off that ridiculous disguise. I knew it was you the moment I saw you.”

  Deflated, I slowly removed the hat and the glasses, and untied the scarf from around my neck. I set them all down on the counter before looking back at her.

  Like a mother waiting for a confession from her child, she glared at me, her arms folded across her chest.

  “What were you doing out there in that alley?” she asked. “And don’t say ‘nothing’. I saw you as you wandered in there. I have no idea what could have been back there for you, but I’m certain it couldn’t have been anything good.”

  I cleared my throat. “I thought I saw someone,” I said, trying to be as honest as I could without giving everything away. “But I think I was mist
aken. Sometimes it feels like I’m chasing ghosts lately…”

  Irene’s stony face relaxed as she let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging. “Helen…” she said. “To be honest, I’m not really sure what to think of you lately. Ever since you came back from London the first time, something has been different about you.” Her tone held mingled exasperation and sadness. “And I don’t know if it’s something we did, or said, that makes you feel like you can’t trust us anymore – ”

  “It’s not that I can’t trust you,” I said at once. “It’s not that at all. It’s just…”

  I didn’t really know how to answer her. The truth was, Roger was alive. But that was a truth that I couldn’t tell anybody…not even my dearest friend.

  “I found out some things in London that…well, it really shocked me,” I said. “I came home and found out even more from Sidney when I went and investigated him for Wilson Baxter’s murder. Like I told you, he had ties to my husband. This whole thing went far deeper, and far wider than I could ever have imagined…”

  “And because of those ties, there are things you cannot tell me, correct?” Irene asked.

  I nodded. “It’s a government secret. I don’t think even I’m supposed to know. That knowledge should have died with me when Sidney had intended to kill me…”

  Irene suppressed a shudder. “And even after all this with your late husband, you now have to face persecution for a murder that you did not commit,” she said.

  Her grey eyes searched mine for a long moment, and I couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking. Was she angry? Regretful? Pitying? It was hard to tell.

  She sighed eventually, lowering her arms and regarding me with more gentleness.

  “Helen…” she said. “I wish you would have stayed this morning. I wish we could have talked things over once everyone had a cooler head. Nathanial and I are not angry with you, not in the least. And I hope you know that he does trust you. I think seeing you as distraught and as messy as you were really shook him, and after Sidney’s betrayal, I think he was cautious to give his trust so freely again. We had that man in our home so many times…completely unaware that he was not who he said he was…”

  “I know,” I said, barely above a whisper. “And I’m sorry for bringing him into your life.”

  “You did nothing of the sort,” Irene said firmly. “We fell in love with his character just like everyone in the village did. There is no shame in that. All of the blame rests on him, and his deceit. Please don’t go punishing yourself for his actions. They were not your responsibility, regardless of his ties to Roger.”

  My fingers drummed against my arm as I stared down at the floor. She was right, and I was well aware of it. It didn’t help, though, that those were the exact things that passed through my mind most nights as I laid down to go to sleep.

  “Look,” Irene said. “We may not know everything that is going on with you, but I believe you when you say that you can’t tell us some of what’s happened. I don’t believe that you are holding anything back from us just because you like to be difficult or secretive. I have come to accept this. I know that we can trust you, fully and completely.”

  My jaw clenched, and my eyes stung. “I don’t deserve this sort of kindness,” I said. “Especially not after how I treated you and Nathanial last night…”

  I heard her footsteps as she walked over to me. She pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tightly. “It’s all right,” she murmured. “We forgive you for what happened. We love you dearly, and I hope that you know that. We think of you as family, too.”

  I hugged her back, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill out onto Irene’s nice powder blue dress.

  She released me, taking a step back. “Now…would you care to tell me why you were walking around town in a disguise like that?”

  I sniffed, rubbing at my face. “I think I may have found a lead. You may have been right about that mechanic.”

  “I’ll make a pot of tea,” she said while making her way to the stove. “And you can tell me all about it.”

  As I started to tell her about my telephone call to Mrs. Georgianna that morning, I realized in the back of my mind that I did not deserve Irene’s friendship. Her implicit trust in me was both humbling and overwhelming.

  I wanted to tell her about Roger. I wanted to tell her everything, so that this fear, this emptiness within me could be shared with someone else.

  Even though I knew that Roger was alive…I realized I felt more alone now than I ever had before.

  8

  After I explained everything about Lucas Adams and the boots I’d discovered in his office, Irene insisted that I call Sam Graves.

  “It may not be anything, or it could be everything,” she said. “He would be the best one to evaluate the information you managed to find.”

  So I called him. He seemed interested in Lucas, as he had come across his name when he’s gone to visit the family of Mr. James in his investigation.

  “You always seem to be one step ahead of me,” he said with a low chuckle. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “I thought that would be rather obvious,” I said. “I don’t have the same restrictions and requirements that you do. It makes finding information a little easier.”

  He laughed. “Well, very good. I’ll check in on him, see if there’s anything there. I don’t want you to approach him again, though. Now that we’re onto a possible lead, it’d be safest for you to keep your distance from that young man.”

  I didn’t argue. Feeling more hopeful now that Irene and Nathanial were on my side again, and Sam was off to investigate a lead I’d found, I decided to allow myself a chance to relax.

  “You’re going to stay with us again, right?” Irene asked as I helped her by cleaning the cups she and Nathanial brought back into the kitchen as guests left. “I won’t have you in that house all by yourself until this whole matter is dealt with properly.”

  I didn’t want to argue, especially since there were still many people in the village who would consider me to be the culprit in Mr. James’ murder. “Very well,” I said. “But I really must fetch some clean clothes from my house.”

  “We will go together as soon as we close up for the day,” Irene said.

  As we cleaned the tables that afternoon, Irene told Nathanial our plans. He had apologized profusely as soon as he had seen me earlier, telling me how terrible he felt about the way we had left things the night before. We hugged and all was well once again. I was nearly giddy with relief as I did my best to get their dishes as clean as I possibly could.

  “I’ll go with you, of course,” he said. “If someone were to see Helen, I wouldn’t want it to just be the two of you having to deal with them. If there’s three of us, people will be less likely to provoke you.”

  I was not going to argue with his logic, especially if someone decided to choose more violent means to show their suspicion of me.

  We dropped Michael off at the Diggory’s so he could play with their youngest son while the rest of us made our way back down High Street toward my cottage.

  “I do appreciate you both, so very much,” I said as we walked.

  “It’s quite all right,” Irene said. “You don’t have to keep saying that, you know.”

  “I feel as if I need to make up for how I acted last night,” I said.

  “You were frightened,” Nathanial said. “Anyone with two eyes could have seen that. And for me to be reluctant to give you the support you needed was foolish. I should be the one apologizing.”

  “But how could you have known that I wasn’t like Sidney?” I asked. “Your assumption about that could have been completely correct.”

  “It’s because we trust you, Helen,” Nathanial said. “Especially Irene. She knows that you’re a good person. I believe her. And I believe you.”

  Irene smiled, and then as she turned her face, something up ahead made her eyes widen. She reached out her arm, stopping both Nathanial and I in our tra
cks.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Irene’s face reflected more horror than surprise.

  Part of me didn’t want to follow her gaze.

  “Let’s just go back,” she said, attempting to turn me around. “We can always retrieve your clothes another time – ”

  I pushed her hands aside, though, and searched for what had distressed her so much.

  It didn’t take long for me to see what it was that had disturbed her.

  What amazed me was that I had been home just a few hours before. When I was, everything seemed perfectly ordinary. Yes, the front window was broken, and a layer of dust had settled over all the tables and cabinets inside the shop from nearly a full week of neglect…

  However, it had looked nothing like it did now…and I couldn’t find the strength to continue standing.

  Somehow, it seemed that in the few hours I was gone, some of the villagers had joined forces against me.

  Hand-painted signs had been stuck into my front garden, with “Banish the Killer” and “Your guilt will find you out” among the first I noticed. More signs, also hand written, were tacked to the front of my door with nails that pierced through the fresh coat of blue paint that I’d just given it a few weeks before. I read “Hypocrite” and “Liar” and “Murderer” before even getting to the ones on the second line.

  “Come on…” Irene urged me, trying to pull me away from the hatred that seemed to be emanating off the house itself.

  I felt sick. How could these people treat me this way? These people who had been kind to me for as long as I had been here in Brookminster. Had it all been a lie? Were they finally showing their true colors?

  “This is a disgrace…” Nathanial said in a low growl, stomping over to the garden. He wrenched the gate open and strode up the path, grabbing the signs in the yard, yanking them free from the dirt.

  Irene wrapped her arms around my shoulders, while together we watched Nathanial tear the notes down from the door. He wound them up into tight balls, shoving them deep into his pockets.

  “Why?” I asked, hopelessly. “Why are they being so cruel?”