Death Is in the Air

by Kate Kingsbury

  He nodded, his gaze grave on her face. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  She allowed a few seconds to slip by then said briskly, “Well, I’m glad we got that settled.”

  “So am I. Thank you for a swell evening. Please give my regards to the chef. The meal was excellent.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Major.” She watched him leave with the feeling that they hadn’t really settled anything at all. A ghost. Was it possible Martin hadn’t been entirely imagining things after all? Wonderful. That’s all she needed now, on top of everything else.

  It was several minutes later before she remembered that they hadn’t settled the matter of Polly’s lift home. She rang the bell to the kitchen and waited for what seemed an eternity for someone to answer. When the door finally opened, it was Martin who poked his head into the room.

  “You rang, madam?”

  “It’s late, Martin. Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I have no idea, madam. Why aren’t I in bed?”

  “Are you helping Violet with something?”

  “No, madam. Violet has retired for the evening.”

  “What about Polly? Has she left?”

  “Yes, madam. I believe she was in the company of an American.”

  Relieved that Polly had been taken care of, Elizabeth nodded. “Martin, do try to remove that tone of disgust from your voice when you mention the Americans.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “And I suggest you also retire for the evening.”

  “Very well, madam.”

  He’d sounded a little distant, and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Do I sense a note of disapproval?”

  Martin raised his chin. “It is not for me to pass judgement on your social activities, madam.”

  “Indeed not, Martin. I should hope the thought never crossed your mind.”

  “I should merely like to point out that the master is displeased.”

  “Really. Well, tell the master that I’m in charge here now, and what I do is my own business.”

  “He won’t like that, madam.”

  “Quite possibly, but nevertheless, it happens to be the truth. And I fail to see what he can do about it now.” Great heavens! she thought. She was talking as if her father were still alive. She really needed to get some sleep. As for all this talk about ghosts, there had to be a simple explanation. She would investigate the great hall herself tomorrow and put all these silly rumors to rest.

  Polly bounced down hard on the seat as the Jeep lurched across a bump in the lane. She made the most of the opportunity and swayed hard against Sam’s arm.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking not in the least sorry about it.“Didn’t see that one coming.”

  “It’s all right.” She tried to think of something clever to say, but her mind had gone completely blank. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you down the pub tonight. I had to work late. Thank you for taking me home, anyhow.”

  “It’s my pleasure, believe me.” He jammed his foot on the brake as they approached the crossroads then swept around the corner, ending up on the wrong side of the road.

  “You’re on the wrong side again,” Polly reminded him. “You Yanks will never get the hang of driving on the right side of the road.”

  “I thought we were supposed to drive on the left side of the road.”

  She nudged him. “Go on, you know what I mean.”

  He pulled over to the left, bringing them up close to the edge of the woods. “I’m sure glad you’re not out here riding your bike at this time of night. How come you’re so late, anyhow? Do all secretaries work this late in England?”

  Guiltily she crossed her fingers. “Nah, it’s just that this was a special night for Lady Elizabeth, and Violet asked me to help out.”

  “Yeah, what goes on with the major and her ladyship? They got something going?”

  Polly laughed. “’Course not. The major’s married, anyhow. Violet told me. Lady Elizabeth would never have anything to do with a married man. Nor would I.” She looked up at Sam’s handsome face, stricken by the thought that just crossed her mind. “You’re not married, are you?”

  Sam snorted. “Me? Not on your pretty little life, sweetheart. I’m too fond of my freedom to get hitched.”

  Well satisfied, Polly leaned back in her seat. She’d change all that, she promised herself. It would just take a little time, that was all. From the first moment she’d set eyes on Captain Sam Cutter, she’d made up her mind that she was going to marry him and go back to America with him, and nothing was going to stop her.

  “Makes me nervous, knowing there’s a Nazi hiding in those woods,” Sam muttered as the Jeep roared down the lane.

  Polly sniffed the night air. She loved the smell of the woods at night, especially now that autumn was here turning the trees to red and gold and ripening scarlet berries all over the holly boughs. Even the thought of a murderer lurking among the silent trees couldn’t dampen her spirits. She was alone with the man of her dreams, and in a few moments he’d be kissing her goodnight outside her house.

  She’d make it last as long as possible, she silently vowed, because the sooner Sam fell in love with her, the sooner she could tell him the truth about her age. In a few months she’d be sixteen and old enough to work in the factory. Then she could buy lots of fancy clothes and shoes and perfume and makeup, and she wouldn’t have to worry about skulking around the Manor House, frightened someone would see her cleaning the loo.

  “There was a big fight in the pub tonight,” Sam said as they pulled out onto the coast road. “The British army were there and got into a brawl with our boys.”

  Polly gasped. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

  “Nope. We got out as soon as it started, but judging from the noise going on in there, I bet there were a few bloody noses and black eyes.”

  “Oh, my. I bet Ted Wilkins was fit to be tied. He keeps threatening to shut down the pub if they keep having fights in there.”

  “Well, I reckon it was worse than usual because of all the army boys in town looking for the murderer.”

  “They still haven’t found him yet, then?”

  “Doesn’t seem like it.” He sent Polly a sideways glance that thrilled her to bits. “Can’t say I’m sorry if it gives me an excuse to take a gorgeous dame like you home.”

  His words made her sigh. He’d called her gorgeous. He made her feel like a real woman. She knew what it was like now, to be really in love. Not like those silly little crushes she’d had on the English boys. They all seemed so childish now. Now that she had a real man to love. Hugging herself, she leaned closer to him, tingling with the anticipation of his goodnight kiss.

  Sleep eluded Elizabeth until the early hours of the morning, and when she did finally drift off, her dreams disturbed her with images of a headless woman chasing German soldiers through the woods.

  Her lack of sleep made her feel out of sorts as she made her way down to the kitchen that morning, and the news that the British army had spent the entire night combing the woods without finding any trace of the German pilot did nothing to settle her brittle nerves. Violet, who had heard the news from Polly, also informed her that Rita Crumm was rounding up her troops to hunt for the escaped pilot.

  “They’re supposed to meet at the village green at ten this morning,” Violet said, putting a steaming plate of porridge in front of Elizabeth. “Polly’s mother’s going with them.”

  Elizabeth looked at her in alarm. “Someone could get badly hurt with all those soldiers searching the woods.”

  “I’d worry about the soldiers if I were you. Polly said the women will be carrying butcher knives.”

  “That’s got to be illegal. Someone has to stop them before things get out of hand.”

  “Seems to me things are already getting out of hand. Ooh, that’s something else Polly told me.” Violet went to the door and stuck her head into the hallway. “Martin!” she yelled. “Your porridge is ready!” She came back shaking her head. “That man.
I swear he’s going deaf.”

  “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t. After all, he’s in his eighties. Something’s bound to wear out at that age.”

  “If you ask me, it’s his blinking mind that’s wearing out,” Violet muttered. “He keeps nattering on about the master being back. He’s giving me the willies now.”

  Remembering the major’s words, Elizabeth decided it was time to change the subject. “What was it that Polly told you?”

  Violet picked up a large wooden spoon and stirred the rest of the porridge. “There was a big fight down at the pub last night. Our lads and the Yanks got into it, according to Polly. Made a right mess of the place before it was over.”

  Elizabeth stared at her plate. “We have to do something about that. I think I’ll call a meeting of the town council. Perhaps we can come up with some ideas of how to end this resentment of the Americans.”

  “It’s going to take more than a council meeting to do that if you ask me.” Violet ladled porridge into a bowl. “At least this time they can’t blame the murder on a Yank.” She carried the bowl over to the table and set it down. “I wonder what Rita Crumm and her lot would do if they came across that German.”

  “Probably run for their lives,” Martin said from the doorway. “That’s if they’ve got any sense. That blighter would run them through with a bayonet if they got anywhere near him.”

  “He’s not carrying a bayonet,” Elizabeth remarked. She lifted a spoonful of porridge in the air. “He must be pretty hungry by now.”

  “Not thinking of taking him your porridge, are you?” Violet asked as she filled a third bowl with the oatmeal.

  Martin gasped. “I should say not! I would hope madam has far too much prudence than to consider such a dangerous venture.”

  “Madam does,” Elizabeth assured him. “I was just wondering if the poor boy is hungry enough to give himself up.”

  “That poor boy killed a young woman, so stop feeling sorry for him,” Violet said, seating herself at the table. She looked up at Martin, who hovered by his chair. “Are you going to sit down, or are you waiting for your porridge to get cold first?”

  Martin cleared his throat. “May I have your permission to join you at the table, madam?”

  Elizabeth answered automatically. “You may, Martin.”

  “Thank you, madam, but if I may say so, your proper place is in the dining room at the dining room table. The master is very unhappy to see how badly proprieties have been neglected at the Manor House.”

  “Then I should think he was delirious last night,” Violet said crisply. “Especially when you nearly dropped the soup all over Lizzie. If you ask me, she’s a lot safer right here in the kitchen.”

  Martin was too busy concentrating on getting his creaking body down on his chair to answer her.

  Elizabeth glanced at her. “How did you know about the soup?”

  “I was watching from the doorway, wasn’t I. The old fool insisted on taking it in, and I was holding my breath all the way. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw it slipping, until your major caught it.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Once and for all, Violet, he’s not my major, and I do wish you would stop calling him that.”

  “Methinks you do protest too much,” Violet murmured.

  Ignoring her, Elizabeth cleared her plate, then laid down her spoon. “I have to go down to the police station this morning. Would you ring the council members for me and have them meet me at the town hall at half past two this afternoon?”

  “I’ll get Polly to do it. She likes using the telephone.” She tilted her head to one side. “You know, I’ve been thinking, maybe you should give some thought to her helping out in the office after all. With all the running about you’ve been doing lately, it must be hard for you to keep up with all the accounting.”

  Surprised, Elizabeth rose to her feet. “Has she been talking to you about it?”

  Martin painfully pulled himself up out of his chair, while Violet gulped down a spoonful of porridge. “Never shuts up about it. I’m tired of listening to her.”

  “Did she ask you to mention it to me?”

  “I sort of promised I’d say something.” Violet looked up at her. “Not that I’m saying you should take her on, of course. I don’t want to be blamed if she messes everything up.”

  Elizabeth sat down again. “I suppose I could use some help in the office.”

  Martin, who had frozen midway in his effort to rise, lowered himself on the chair.

  “Well, it’s up to you, Lizzie. I’m not the one to tell you what to do.”

  “Does she have any experience?”

  Violet shrugged. “Not that I know of, but she seems intelligent enough to learn. You’d probably have to be behind her at first, but I think she’d do all right. It would get her off my back with her whining all the time.”

  “Well, I’ll think about it.” Elizabeth got to her feet once more. “Though she’ll still have to find time to clean the house.”

  Martin sighed, then struggled off his chair.

  “She’ll have plenty of time,” Violet assured her. “She doesn’t have enough to occupy her now, and working in the office would stop her from hanging around the east wing all the time. She’s too blinking young to be running after men. Especially hot-blooded ones like those Yanks.”

  “I say, Violet,” Martin protested.

  “Well, we don’t have the right to supervise her private life.” Elizabeth looked at Martin. “You can sit down now, Martin. I’m leaving.”

  “Yes, madam,” Martin murmured, remaining on his feet.

  “I take it you enjoyed your dinner last night with your major,” Violet said slyly.

  On her way to the door, Elizabeth paused. “Oh, I’m sorry, Violet, I meant to tell you how much we both enjoyed the meal. You surpassed yourself last night. Especially the trifle. It was quite your best effort ever.”

  Violet looked immensely pleased with herself. “Glad to hear it, Lizzie. Only the best for you, that’s what I say.”

  Elizabeth escaped through the door, before Violet’s questions could get any more personal. She didn’t want to talk about last night to anyone. It had been a special evening and hers to keep in her memory forever.

  Right now, however, she had more serious thoughts to dwell on. There was the problem of the hostility in the village toward the Americans that had to be resolved. Even more pressing was the murder case, which was why she was anxious to get down to the police station as soon as possible. Someone had to stop Rita Crumm and her troops before the search for the German ended in more tragedy.

  CHAPTER8

  Both George and Sid were seated in the front office of the police station when Elizabeth arrived there a short while later. A light shower had dampened her Panama hat on the way, leaving the brim drooping dismally over one eye. The wet skirt of her wool dress flapped around her knees as she strode over to the desk, reminding her that there were definite disadvantages to utilizing a motorcycle as one’s sole mode of transportation.

  All in all, she was not in her best mood when George greeted her in his usual brusque tones. “Morning, Lady Elizabeth! What can we do for you today?”

  “You can put a stop to Rita Crumm’s ridiculous endeavor to get herself and her friends shot and killed, that’s what you can do.” Elizabeth sat down rather hard on the rickety chair in front of the desk.

  Sid came over to stand next to George. “What she’s doing now then, m’m?”

  “She’s taking her foolish little followers into the woods to hunt for that German pilot, knowing full well that the military is in there ready to shoot at anything that’s not wearing army boots and battledress.”

  Sid tutted, and George shook his head. “Rita means well,” he muttered, “but she does get a little heavy-handed at times.”

  “Means well? Is that all you can say?” Aware that she was sputtering, Elizabeth made an effort to sound more ladylike. “I insist that you do something to stop her. Someone c
ould very well get killed out there.”

  Sid nodded but obviously had nothing helpful to offer.

  George looked worried. “Begging your pardon, Lady Elizabeth, but we can’t stop people going into the woods if they have a mind to go. It’s not like it’s private property or anything.”

  “I’m perfectly aware of that. Since it is part of the Manor House estate, however, I can ask that you deem the area out of bounds until the pilot has been captured or the search has been called off.”

  Sid nodded again then changed it to shaking negatively when George murmured, “I’m not sure we can do that, m’m. The first Lord Hartleigh made it very clear that the entire village and the surrounding lands, with the exception of the Manor House grounds, were to remain open and accessible to all residents of Sitting Marsh. No matter what. He signed and sealed it a hundred years ago. It’s hanging right up there on the wall of the town hall. Your own father was very protective of that law, if I remember rightly.”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth. Why was it that lately everywhere she turned the specter of her father loomed in front of her? “I’m well aware of my great-great-grandfather’s decree, George. However, a hundred years ago I doubt very much if he envisioned young men, most of them recovering from a drunken brawl, running around the woods with rifles using helpless housewives for target practice. I must insist that you take some action to prevent a possible disaster.”

  George tapped a pencil on his blotter with maddening deliberation, while Sid looked sorrowful, reminding Elizabeth of a basset hound she’d almost purchased a while ago.

  Finally George said heavily, “I suppose I could have a word with them.”

  “I don’t think a word is going to stop Rita Crumm. You know how she is when she hears the call to battle. She takes up arms and charges into the fray like some inept Viking.”

  “It’s all I have the authority to do, m’m. Until they do something unlawful, anyway.”

  Elizabeth lifted her chin. “What if I were to tell you that they will be carrying carving knives with them?”