Murder Flies the Coop

by Jessica Ellicott

  Edwina noticed that Dennis Morley had arrived to assist the other miners and she decided the best thing she could do for everyone involved was to go and speak with them before either Constable Gibbs arrived or worse, the vicar’s wife, came on the scene.

  “I’m going to head over and speak with them. I know Dennis Morley and his wife, Alice. Perhaps I will be able to have a conversation with him that gets us both what we want,” Edwina said.

  “I’ll head on over with you. A fine lady such as yourself may not be equipped for the likes of them,” Simpkins said. He fell into step next to her, and as much as it pained her to admit it to herself, Edwina was glad of his solid presence at her side.

  “Good morning, Mr. Morley,” Edwina said. “I’m pleased but a bit surprised to see you here.” Mr. Morley looked her up and down in a way that left her feeling uncomfortable. She saw several of the other men elbowing each other and whispering. Their posture seemed defensive as if they were saying they had every right to be there and that they dared her to ask them to disband.

  “I understood from my wife, Alice, that you were highly desirous of involving the people from Hambley in your celebration here today. Was she mistaken?” Mr. Morley asked.

  “It’s absolutely true. I just had no idea that your idea of participation would include handing out pamphlets,” Edwina said.

  “I had not understood that there was any sort of restriction on our participation. I thought that you were eager for us to come in so we accepted the invitation,” Mr. Morley said. “I hope that’s not going to be a problem.”

  Edwina took a deep breath. “I have no problem with you handing out pamphlets so long as they aren’t something that’s going to include things that would frighten children or turn this happy family occasion into something unpleasant,” she said. “Would you say that the literature you wish to spread to the attendees is of that sort of a nature?”

  Mr. Morley held out a leaflet. “Take a look for yourself. The statistics and the information written on these pamphlets may turn your stomach but there’s nothing in here that’s not the God’s honest truth. It’s one thing for us to complain to other people in our same situation about the problems we’re facing. But real reform of labor laws won’t happen until people who have things easier than we do understand what we’re facing. The good folks here in Walmsley Parva are exactly the sort of people we need in the voting booths in order to make changes for the workingman.” Edwina reached out and accepted the flyer. She read it over quickly. There were no objectionable line drawings depicting violence. Mr. Morley was right about the disquieting nature of the text but she couldn’t say that any of it sounded like something that was untrue. If the country wanted to keep running on coal, they ought to know, in her opinion, what that cost their fellow citizens. The vicar’s wife was not going to like it but Edwina was not going to say anything to dissuade them.

  “I see no reason why you should not be allowed to have your say. But I do have a suggestion for you,” Edwina said.

  “What’s that?” Mr. Morley said.

  “I think you’d be best served not speaking from a stage but by spreading out to blend into the crowd. I would advise you to be as friendly as possible when you approach other people. If you want them to be open-minded about your message, you don’t want to seem threatening or off-putting when you first encounter them. Looking like a hostile gang at the edge of the green is not going to help your cause. It’s also going to make you more of a target for the local constable and the festival organizers,” Edwina said. “Wouldn’t you say so, Simpkins?”

  “Yes, Miss Edwina, I’d say that’s about right. Constable Gibbs is not someone who will take that sort of thing in stride. If I were you I’d fade off into the crowd and hand these out on the sly,” Simpkins said.

  “We’re tired of hiding in the dark,” said a man at the back of the group. “Part of the problem is feeling like we need to apologize for asking for what’s due to us or that we need to make sure not to rile the feathers of those who think of themselves as our betters.” Edwina noticed the heads nodding and the grumbling of the group.

  “I have no authority to tell you what to do. I can only tell you what I think is likely to get the result that you want. That is if the result is to hand out your flyers for as long as possible to as many people assembled here as you can. If your real intention is to cause a scene and make a disruption then I have nothing further to say,” Edwina said. She gave a curt nod to Mr. Morley and then turned her back and walked across the green. In the distance she noticed Mrs. Lowethorpe approaching, gesticulating wildly with her arms and pointing at the various tents. Edwina turned back to look at the miners. Simpkins had his head bent close to Mr. Morley’s and the two seemed to be conferring. Within moments there was no evidence left of the makeshift stage and its tent. As quickly as they had appeared, the group of miners slipped off into the gathering crowd, each holding a stack of leaflets.

  Simpkins made a beeline for her. “They took your words to heart and I think they will follow your advice about how to spread their message. That was just the way to speak to them. You do have a way with people, Miss Edwina,” Simpkins said. Edwina felt astonished at Simpkins’ words. She didn’t think of herself as someone who was particularly good with people, just someone who knew from vast experience of life in the village how such things would tend to play out. Before she could thank him for his words, he gave her a nod and hurried off. Maybe he felt embarrassed at expressing a compliment. Or maybe he was not eager to interact with Mrs. Lowethorpe, who was speeding toward her like a woman possessed. With no evidence left in sight, Edwina regretted that she was going to have to tell the vicar’s wife that she feared Charles Jarvis had been imagining things.

  Chapter 39

  Beryl looked around and thought that the May Day fete looked exactly how she expected that it would. The white tents billowed in the slight breeze. The sun shone down on the pond on the green and set the water sparkling. Children ran up and down the aisles bumping into their elders and chasing each other with sticky fingers wrapped around sweet rolls and lollipops. Beryl was glad she had decided to adhere to convention and to wear a wide-brimmed hat. The sun was warm and she was glad of the shade the head covering provided.

  In fact it was so warm, she actually found herself desirous of a cup of tea. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and looked back and forth up and down the tent rows. The line at the tea tent seemed extraordinarily long. The heat must have gotten to everyone else too, Beryl decided. She made her way slowly along the back side of the tents taking advantage of the shadows cast by their canvas. She took her time as she walked. There was no need to exert herself only to find that she needed to stand in line.

  She paused behind one of the tents when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone having an argument conducted in whispers. While Edwina would certainly have chastised her for the poor manners eavesdropping displayed, Beryl thought she recognized the sound of Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe’s voice. It was no time for scruples. She leaned a little closer to the tent canvas and focused her attention on the muffled noise on the other side of the canvas.

  “I want to know where they are and I want to know where they are right now,” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said.

  “I told you, Ambrose, I have no idea,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.

  “You cannot possibly have no idea. You are the only one besides myself to have possession of them,” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said.

  “Well, I don’t have them now and I don’t know where they are,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “If you must know, I gave them to someone for safekeeping.”

  “You gave them to someone?” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe’s voice raised slightly in anger. “Whom the devil did you give them to?”

  “I don’t see how it’s any business of yours to whom I give my jewelry or how I take care of it,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.

  “It matters to me very much that my wife has done something so foolish with such valuabl
e property. So I ask you again, to whom did you entrust the jewelry?” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said. Beryl heard Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe give a slight shriek. The shadows playing through the tent and the silhouettes of the figures within made it clear that Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe had grabbed his wife by the arm. Beryl was torn between wanting to rush to her client’s aid and wanting to hear how the argument would unfold. As Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe seemed capable of continuing the argument she decided to refrain from interrupting.

  “This is exactly the reason I gave my jewelry to Lionel,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said, struggling to wrench her arm from her husband’s grasp. “If you must know, I was leaving you. We were going to use the jewelry to start a whole new life together far from you, your bullying, and all the rest of it.”

  “You gave a vast fortune in jewels to my bookkeeper?” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said, his voice rising above a whisper. Beryl was able to hear every word as clearly as if she were perched on the colliery owner’s shoulder.

  “Yes. Unlike you, he loved me. We were going to run away together the day that he disappeared and you never would have found me,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.

  “Did it ever occur to you he was only using you?” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “You always have been a naive, emotional, weak-minded woman. You can’t possibly believe he planned to spend his life with you after he got his hands on your money.”

  “What I believe is that you found out what we were up to and you are the one who killed him,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “I think you stole the jewels from him yourself and you are just asking me where they are to cover up for your crime.” Beryl watched the shadows as Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe reached over and grabbed his wife with his other hand, pinning both her arms firmly to her sides.

  “Do you think if I had done such a thing I would be asking you any questions about it whatsoever?” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “I need that jewelry and I had no reason to expect you no longer had it.”

  “Well, I don’t. I’ve hired that detective agency in town to look for it but so far they’ve turned up nothing. It wasn’t with his body, it wasn’t in his rooming house, it wasn’t even in his pigeon loft. It has simply vanished,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “It’s just like you to be more concerned about the jewelry than the fact that I no longer wish to be your wife.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The jewelry is the only reason I asked you to be my wife in the first place. You can’t possibly think I would have wished to marry the likes of you for any reason other than what you could bring into the marriage financially,” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said. Beryl heard Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe began to sob. Her next words came out in stuttering gasps.

  “I brought the jewelry with me into the marriage. It’s my property and I have every right to do with it as I please. I can’t see how any of it has anything to do with you. It’s not as though you are going to wear it at a board meeting,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.

  “You foolish, foolish woman. You’ve ruined us both,” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “What you don’t realize is that I have used your jewelry as collateral for the Hambley mine. It was the only thing I had left of any real value and now I find out I don’t have it either. We are going to be utterly ruined,” Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe said. He dropped his hands from his wife’s upper arms, let out a loud groan, and stomped out of the tent. Beryl saw Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe turn and leave, headed in the opposite direction.

  Both Charles Jarvis and Archie had been right about the rumors concerning the Hambley mine. Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe was far over his head in his business practices. Beryl had to consider the possibility that what she had overheard made it seem far less likely that Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe was the one who killed Mr. Cunningham. Although it was still possible that Mr. Cunningham did not have the jewels on his person at the time he was killed. She hurried off in search of Edwina to tell her what she had just heard.

  Chapter 40

  Edwina passed Beryl half of a cucumber and cress sandwich before helping herself to one as well. Beryl’s news about Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe’s reliance on the jewelry, as well as her efforts all morning, had left her famished. She swallowed a bite of sandwich and was about to take another when Alice Morley appeared before them. Alice looked flushed and slightly disheveled, as though she had been running, and the expression on her face was one of distress.

  “I’m so glad I found the two of you,” Alice said, dropping onto the picnic blanket beside them. “I desperately need some advice.”

  “What seems to be the matter, Alice?” Edwina said. She tried to hand Alice a piece of sandwich but the younger woman shook her head. “You look frantic.”

  “I’m very worried about my husband, Dennis. You may remember that I mentioned before that there have been leaflets circulating around the mining village calling for labor reform,” Alice said.

  “Your husband was here this morning with some other men handing out just such pamphlets,” Edwina said. “But the leaflets were not as gruesome as the ones you described to us that day when you came to lunch so I didn’t see anything objectionable about them. Is that what’s worrying you?”

  “No, that’s not it. Dennis has been spending a lot of time with people who are unsatisfied with the working conditions and I wasn’t at all pleased that he wanted to come and hand out the leaflets here at the May Day festival. As a matter of fact, I begged him not to. I said that we were not going to make the sort of changes we wanted by making disruptions and making ourselves unwelcome. We actually had a flaming row about it this morning,” Alice said.

  “So you need some marital advice?” Beryl asked. “I’ve been married more times than I like to recall so I expect I’m qualified to speak on that subject.” Beryl leaned towards Alice and gave her an encouraging smile. In Edwina’s opinion, Beryl was far more qualified on the subject of dissolving a marriage than remaining in one. But as she had no practical experience of either, she wisely decided to remain quiet on the subject.

  “It’s not the leaflets really, it’s the other things. It started out with mere conversations about the working conditions, but it’s escalated. What I haven’t told you is that there’s been sabotage at the mine and I’m worried that Dennis knows more about it than he has let on,” Alice said. “In fact, after our argument today he confirmed it.”

  “What sorts of things did he say to you?” Beryl asked. “Do you think that he’s involved in the sabotage?”

  Alice nodded. “I’ve tried to convince him to stay away from the people who are involved in violence but his dissatisfaction at work has been growing steadily lately. When I told him that I thought that the leafleting was going a step too far, he laughed in my face and said I really wouldn’t like what he actually had planned. He was at a meeting earlier in the week with the saboteurs. From what he hinted at I think it is likely they’ve planned an attack on the mine. The shifts don’t run today since it’s Sunday, which would make any sabotage easier. Besides, as far as I know, most of the miners are here at the celebration,” Alice said.

  “What sort of attack on the mine?” Edwina asked.

  “I don’t know. Dennis wouldn’t tell me the specifics and maybe he doesn’t even know. He’s not really in the inner circle. At least I don’t think he is. I believe he’s just being used by the people organizing it because he has a foot in each community. His involvement with the pigeon racing club has given him access to people that most of the miners don’t have. He knows things that they don’t know because of conversations he had had with Mr. Cunningham and even with Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe.”

  “Where is your husband now?” Edwina asked.

  “That’s just it. I haven’t seen him since we quarreled. After the argument I went in one direction and he headed off in another. I haven’t laid eyes on him since and I’m concerned that he’s gone back to the mine with some of the others to put whatever they planned into action,” Alice said. “I don’t want to carry tales to the authorities but I’m really worrie
d that someone’s going to be hurt. The sabotage keeps escalating. It started as small things like missing equipment or jammed machinery. The last sabotage involved a fire that they barely managed to put out before it spread into the village. I hate to think what they have planned for today but I’m convinced that it’s far more serious than anything they’ve done before.”

  “I think we’d better head over there immediately,” Beryl said, standing and tossing the remains of her sandwich towards a passing flock of ducks. They swooped down on it and Edwina scrambled to her feet and sent them the remains of her meal as well.

  “We have to tell Constable Gibbs. Something like this is beyond our experience, Beryl,” Edwina said. She turned to Alice. “I’ll try to keep your husband’s name out of it but we do have to tell someone in authority.” Alice’s shoulders slumped and tears rolled down her cheeks but she nodded in agreement.

  “How long ago did you have this argument with your husband?” Beryl said.

  “About an hour ago. I should have come to find you sooner but I kept telling myself I was not being a good wife if I did so. In the end it seemed foolish not to ask your advice,” Alice said.

  “That’s long enough for them to have gotten back over to Hambley if that was their intention,” Beryl said.

  “I think we should also speak to Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe,” Edwina said. “He has the right to know that his business is in danger.”

  “I’m not sure if we will find him here or not,” Beryl said. “After the argument he had with Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe, he could be anywhere.”

  “Why don’t we split up? I’ll go looking for Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe and you see if you can find Constable Gibbs,” Edwina said. “I’ll meet you back in front of the tea tent in fifteen minutes.” Beryl nodded.