A Casualty of War: A Bess Crawford Mystery (Bess Crawford Mysteries)

by Charles Todd

  Then he said to me, “They’ve got Captain Travis cornered in the church. There’s a room upstairs in the tower. Someone remembered it. I don’t know how the man knew, but it seems he’s there.”

  Mrs. Caldwell had told the Captain, I was sure of it. How else could he have known? No one in the village had ever mentioned it. Why should they? It must be as old as the stair tower that ran up beside the main tower, and hardly a topic of conversation with strangers to the village. And then I realized I hadn’t thought of it either, after looking at the tower stair.

  I said, “Is Inspector Howe here? Is he in charge in the church?”

  “Yes, so I understand from one of my patients. I’ve said nothing to Fredericks. He’s very upset over what happened to his daughter.”

  I turned to Simon. “Take Mrs. Travis home. See that her maid knows what to do. I’m going to the church.”

  “Bess—”

  “I’ll be all right,” I told him, and set out at a run, lifting my skirts a little so that they wouldn’t wind themselves around my ankles and trip me up.

  He started after me, but Mrs. Travis called to him, and he stopped.

  I heard him say to Dr. Harrison, “Get Fredericks out here. Now. There’s no time to waste.”

  Chapter 23

  I reached the south porch, a stitch in my side from running. Fear had lent wings to my feet, but now I stopped, settling my cap, waiting precious seconds until my breathing returned to near normal. Then I put my hand to the door.

  It opened in my face, and Inspector Howe nearly collided with me.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” he asked, his anger palpable.

  “I was told you’d found the Captain.”

  “You know damned well I have. Thought you were clever, hiding him up there. And we can’t go up, he won’t come down.” He took my arm, dragged me into the church, and pulled me toward the door to the tower. There were half a dozen men ranged around it, turning as one to stare at me.

  “Call to him,” Inspector Howe ordered. “Tell him to give himself up before someone is hurt. He’s got a revolver up there with him. If we try to go after him, there will be bloodshed.”

  I wrenched my arm free of his grip. I was about to say the Captain couldn’t be armed, but thought better of it in time. “There’s been news,” I went on. “Miss Fredericks is ready to give a statement about last evening. And Mr. Ellis has disappeared. Mrs. Travis thinks there has been a problem with his stewardship of her son’s estate. Before you do anything drastic here, talk to them.”

  But he didn’t believe me.

  “Call to him,” he ordered me. And I stepped forward, to do as I was told.

  “Captain Travis? Are you up there? There have been some new developments. Stay where you are until we’ve sorted it out.”

  I thought for an instant that Inspector Howe was going to strike me. He’d lifted his hand, so angry he was red in the face, and if there hadn’t been other men present, I was sure he’d have carried through.

  I stepped back a pace, just out of reach. “He deserves to know what’s happening. Otherwise you’ll drag him back to Bury and refuse to listen to anyone.”

  He said flatly, “If you don’t tell that man to come down and give himself up, I refuse to be responsible for what happens next.”

  “You could try to burn him out,” I said, and turning, walked back to the south porch door. He was too angry, and I wanted to find the Vicar, who might calm him down. No one followed me, although I could feel the stares coming my way like daggers between my shoulder blades.

  I came face-to-face with Vera Caldwell.

  “Betty tells me they’ve cornered Alan in the tower.”

  “Don’t go in,” I warned. “Inspector Howe is in no mood to listen to anything anyone else has to say. He tried to force me to ask the Captain to give himself up. I refused, and it only made the Inspector angrier. Where is the Vicar? He ought to be there.”

  “He’s gone to the Swintons’ farm. I don’t understand,” she said wearily. “It’s frightening how they’ve hunted Alan.”

  “They don’t want to believe him. It’s Ellis who is behind this. He’s disappeared.”

  She shook her head. “It can’t be—”

  “I know,” I broke in. “His father was such a nice man. It’s very likely he’s embezzled from James Travis’s estate.”

  In spite of everything, in spite of her belief in the Captain’s innocence, she couldn’t believe me. I sighed. Well, when Mrs. Travis looked at her accounts, perhaps everyone would. If it wasn’t too late for Captain Travis.

  I brushed past her and hurried on toward The George. Someone there would know how to find the Swinton farm. But the staff were busy preparing dinner and claimed they couldn’t spare anyone. Angry, I went through the empty dining room toward Reception. I’d find someone on the street I could send.

  And I walked straight into the arms of the man coming through the door.

  He was rough, spinning me around and forcing me toward the stairs. I fought, but he was surprisingly strong, the strength of desperation, and he half dragged me up the steps, one hand over my mouth. Opening the door to my room, he shoved me hard across the floor and before I could get to my feet, he was on me, tying my hands. The bonds were tight, hurting my wrists.

  “Scream,” he warned, hauling me upright, “and I’ll kill you now. Sit down over there. I don’t know what you had against me, but you’ve made my life a living hell since the day you arrived in Suffolk. If Travis wants the estate, he can have it. I don’t give a damn. I’ve got what I needed.”

  Mr. Ellis was angry and dangerous. I didn’t answer him for fear of making matters worse.

  But what was he doing here?

  “I have to reach Paris. But the Army still controls passage across the Channel and most likely the trains as well, and I don’t have time now to apply for a pass. You have connections. They’ll help me, they’ll know what permits I need. If you try to stop me, I’ll kill you and anyone else in sight. Do you understand? I’m not squeamish.”

  I believed him. He was cornered, and that made his threats very real.

  I hadn’t seen his motorcar outside The George. Where had he left it?

  I said, “I have only three days left of my leave—there isn’t time. The Foot Police will come looking for me if I’m not back soon. They’ll find you.” It wasn’t likely, but perhaps he wouldn’t know that. “I have nothing against you. I just wanted to see Captain Travis get what was rightfully his.”

  “He won’t marry you,” he said with contempt. “No matter what promises he’s made. Once he’s got his money, he can wed any woman he wants. There’s no title, but there’s wealth. I only took a share of it. There’s enough left to live well. I wasn’t greedy.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I could hear the patter of rain against the windowpanes. How long would it take Simon to settle Mrs. Travis, return to the church, and find I wasn’t there? Would he look in at the surgery, or come here? How much longer?

  But he would have no warning either. And I was certain that this man was armed.

  “My motorcar is round the back, out of sight. I don’t know where the troublesome Sergeant-Major is, but we’re leaving before he comes looking for you. We’ll go quietly down the back stairs and out to my motorcar. If you call out or give anyone any reason to stop us, I’ll kill them. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Before he could touch me, I got to my feet, managing to overturn my chair, as if I’d been clumsy. He picked it up, impatient with me, and shoved it against the foot of the bed, out of his way. “They’ll see that my hands are tied.”

  “No, they won’t. They’re in the kitchen. We’ll go down past the kitchen door and into the yard. I came up that way. No one saw me then.”

  He was right. The back stairs led directly to the yard door, and we went out without anyone the wiser. He had to help me into the motorcar, and then he went to turn the crank. I was tempted to scream, but thought b
etter of it. The kitchen staff knew Mr. Ellis, they wouldn’t be afraid of him, and they would be killed before they realized they were in danger. Even if the shot brought the police running, it would be too late. Instead I tried to ease my shoulders a little, but with my hands behind me, they were beginning to hurt. And my fingers were already swelling from the tightness of the bonds.

  Where was Simon?

  Mr. Ellis got in beside me, cast a glance toward the kitchen windows, and drove around to the front. There was no sign of Simon, and Inspector Howe was still occupied in the church. I watched the houses we passed, hoping someone was looking out a window. But Mr. Ellis’s motorcar must be a fairly familiar sight in Sinclair and wouldn’t arouse suspicion.

  And then we’d reached the bend, and I tried to twist around to look behind me.

  “Sit still, there’s no one there,” he said harshly, and I believed him. And it was as if the clouds opened at that moment, for the rain increased from a shower to a downpour.

  We passed through Clare, where Simon and I had waited in vain at The Swan, expecting Mrs. Caldwell to bring Captain Travis safely to us. I couldn’t help but wonder how different everything would have been if they’d arrived.

  But the Captain would still be a fugitive. And we’d have had no idea that Mr. Ellis had been behind everything that had happened.

  And that reminded me of Lieutenant Bonham.

  “Who is Lieutenant Bonham?” I asked.

  His attention was on the road as he navigated through the traffic in Clare’s High, careful of people with umbrellas obscuring their vision as they tried to cross the street.

  I thought perhaps he hadn’t heard me. Or didn’t know.

  But as we left the outskirts of the village behind us, he said, “He’s my sister’s boy. Takes after his father, not our side, but a good lad at heart. He tried to kill the Captain for me. And when he came home to bury his aunt, he proved useful again. He’s fair, like James. Who knows? Mrs. Travis is foolish enough to prefer him to the Captain.”

  And it all fell into place. Why Lieutenant Bonham had tried to kill Captain Travis before the war ended and he came back to England to learn of his inheritance. Why he’d shot at Mrs. Travis and attacked Lucy Fredericks. And why Lieutenant Bonham was even now worming his charming way into Mrs. Travis’s life. With Ellis gone, who was there to tell her that she was taking a veritable viper to her bosom, as the expression went? He would be her rock, the person who stood beside her through this terrible ordeal, while she was unaware that he was no better than the woman with the baby or the other imposters who had come to her door.

  “But surely people in Sinclair knew he was your nephew? Mrs. Travis knew your father, she must have known you had a sister.”

  “She was my half sister, brought up by an aunt in Cornwall. My father had an affair when he was in London. My mother never knew. He told me before he died.”

  So the father who was above reproach was human after all.

  The road along here was tricky. It twisted and turned, blind corners, sharp curves, and with the rain already filling the ruts and disguising them, we were bouncing wildly. My shoulder was bruised from hitting the door, but all I could do was brace my feet against the floor and try to steady myself.

  Mr. Ellis was concentrating on the road. And every mile that we gained meant that it would be that much longer before Simon could find us. And if we turned off this road, how would he know?

  “I don’t have the authority to persuade the Army to allow you to cross to France.”

  “Your father does. He’ll see to it. When he’s told the alternative. You’ll call him in Dover. Now be quiet, or I’ll gag you.”

  It was a terrible risk, but I had to take a chance. For very soon the road would straighten out for several miles. As we slid into the next curve, hitting a stretch of thick mud, I threw myself toward Mr. Ellis and the wheel.

  Startled, he brought up a hand to ward me off—and lost control of the motorcar.

  We were going too fast for starters, and the road was uneven. As he fought me and fought the wheel, we crashed through the hedgerow on the other side of the road and plunged into a field. A tree was coming at us, too fast to avoid, although Ellis tried.

  We hit it hard, and my head struck the metal frame of the windscreen, and that was all I knew. My last coherent thought was, We have stopped.

  I came to my senses with rain on my face, my body hurting all over.

  For a moment, I couldn’t think where I was. And then the crash came back to me, and I slowly began to remember. Mr. Ellis was caught between the wheel and the door, with my body hard against him. I couldn’t turn far enough to see what injuries he might have. And trying was too painful.

  I lay there, slipping in and out of consciousness, telling myself that I must get out of the rain, that I was cold, it was cold, and I’d be risking pneumonia. But I couldn’t move.

  I came to again as someone shoved me roughly to one side. I cried out, and a hand struck me in the middle of my back. Suddenly I was falling sideways, and I realized that Mr. Ellis had survived the crash, come to his senses as well, and had opened his door so that he could get out from under me.

  I tried to raise myself, to do something to stop him, but without the use of my arms, I was helpless.

  I could hear him breathing heavily, as if the effort he’d just made had cost him dearly. And then, with a grunt, he started to move away from the motorcar.

  I had to stop him.

  In an effort to clear my head, I let it sink against the leather of the driver’s seat. It was warm from where he’d been sitting, and I was shivering.

  Something had to be done about my hands, I thought hazily. If I could manage to free them I could get out of the motorcar and go after him. Glass from the windscreen, I told myself, ought to be sharp enough. But I couldn’t twist around to search for a piece. My vision was blurring, and I realized that the rain was washing blood into my eyes.

  I fought against my bonds, but it was useless. I tried to reach the horn—just beyond the door, and it might as well have been on the moon. There was a brightness around me, like a halo, and I realized that at least one of the headlamps was still working.

  It wouldn’t last long, but it would be a comfort while it lasted.

  And then I passed out.

  Chapter 24

  I couldn’t judge the time. It was fully dark, had been getting close to sunset even as we passed through the last village. I lay there, so cold and wet, and worried about how low the temperature would dip tonight in this rain. I tried to move my legs, in an effort to stay warm, but they were jammed against my own door, and there wasn’t much I could do.

  And then I heard someone swear. My first thought was that Mr. Ellis had come back and was going to kill me. It would have made sense. It was the best thing he could do.

  But the words were in Urdu, not English, and I lifted my head. “Simon?” I called. Or more properly, I croaked.

  He was there, in the open driver’s door, his hands reaching for me in the glow of the headlamps, and then I realized that he was moving me to one side, getting into the seat and drawing me into his arms.

  He was so warm. And I was so cold. He said, “Bess. Can you hear me? Where are you hurt? What did he do to you?”

  “I’m all right,” I managed to say as he found my bonds and got out his knife to cut them. “A blanket, I just need a blanket and to get out of the rain. Then you must go after him. He can’t have got too far, he was hurt too.”

  “I can’t leave you this way. We’ll find him, but he’s not important now.”

  “No, listen. You must go. He has to be brought back to the village and turned over—over to Inspector Howe. Before they drag the Captain out of the tower. It won’t do if he’s caught in London or Dover. Or he gets away for good.” My arms and hands were throbbing as the circulation was returning.

  Torn, Simon sat there, and then he said, “Are you sure, Bess?” He had a handkerchief in his hand, and
he was trying to wipe the blood from my face. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Hurry,” I begged. “A blanket, and away from the rain. Then I’ll start to feel better.”

  Afraid to let me walk, for fear that I was hurt worse than he could see there in the dark, he got me out of that motorcar and carried me to his. The rug he brought from the boot was nearly as cold as I was, but he wrapped it around me and said, “It will feel better soon.” He started to chafe my hands, to bring back the circulation, but I pulled them away.

  “Go. I’ll be all right.”

  But he’d dealt with wounded men, he knew that the wounds you couldn’t see could kill as fast as those you could. And then he was fetching his torch from the boot. “I’ll kill him when I find him,” he said savagely as he came back to me.

  I reached for his arm. “No. No, you won’t. He has to be taken back to Sinclair.”

  He stood there for a moment, and I could tell that he wanted to ask one more question. But then he strode away without another word. I could see him casting about for tracks. I doubted there would be any, and facedown in the seat, I hadn’t seen which direction Ellis had taken. Suddenly he straightened up, threw one last look toward the motorcar where I was sitting, and took off at a trot.

  I sat there, wet through, shivering but slowly warming a little as the blanket kept my own body heat from being lost to the elements. I was out of the rain, although my cap and my hair straggled over my face, and my head hurt. And my greatest fear was that if Ellis offered any resistance at all, Simon wouldn’t remember his promise to me.

  It seemed like hours had passed, but I thought it must only be half an hour, three quarters at the most, when I saw Simon coming out of the darkness toward me. At first it seemed he was alone, and then I realized that he was dragging something behind him.