“Mrs. Elliott, it’s Tillie.”
“Tillie, how are you keeping?”
“We’re doing better, thank you.”
“I’m sorry to be so short, but may I ring you back later? I was just leaving on a church errand.”
“This won’t take but a moment, if you will. First of all, I’m afraid I was quite sharpish when we left your home yesterday.”
“And I wouldn’t have won any commendations for conviviality either, Tillie. Never mind, we’re all a bit wobbly after what happened. I wouldn’t give it a second thought.”
“Yes. Kind of you. It seems, in my rush to pack, I left a couple things behind. May I come get them?”
Berdie wanted to invite Tillie and Doug to the dinner, but she hadn’t time now. “What is it you’re missing and I’ll bring them to you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I’d be glad to do it.”
“Well, there’s a library book and a pair of earrings. I think they’re on a bedside chest.”
“I’ll bring them round tomorrow morning. Does after breakfast sound good?”
“Yes, that works. Thank you. See you then. Ta.”
“Goodbye, Tillie.”
Berdie hung up and flew out the door before another possible phone call could delay her.
She rushed to the van and opened the door. A wrapped laundry parcel, limp and tied with string, sat on the seat. Berdie poked at it and pulled back a corner of the paper. Blue coveralls, boiler suits by the look of it, peeked through. “I wonder if Edsel needs these,” she muttered. Still, she was on a mercy dash, dash being the operative word. She tossed them behind the passenger seat when Chief Inspector Jasper Kent approached.
“Changing careers again, I see.” He thrust a thumb toward the blue letters of Butz and Sons Electrics that stood out against the white work van.
Berdie tilted her head. “Rather shocking, wouldn’t you say?”
“Very droll, Mrs. Elliott, very droll.” The gentleman removed his hat. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”
“I’ve always got a minute for you, Chief Inspector.” She closed the vehicle door.
“You and your husband know this fellow, Chadwick Meryl.”
“My Hugh served with him in the Navy. He’s been to our home several times during his service.”
“Yes, naval intelligence. We questioned him last night.” He tapped his hat against his lower thigh. “I remember you as being able to suss out a person with a fair degree of accuracy. So what do you make of the fellow?”
Berdie was pleased that Inspector Kent valued her input, and she wanted to give the most viable information. “My husband seems quite sure that Leftenant Meryl was not involved in this crime, if that’s what you’re asking. He certainly knows him better than I, and he’s a good judge of character.”
“Yes, but what do you think?”
Berdie paused. “Well, frankly, I’d say Chad is rather impulsive. Words fly out his mouth and he thinks about them afterwards. He can be quick-tempered, I’ll give you that. But this particular crime seems to need deliberation and planning.”
“So you’re saying this Chad is more a crime-of-passion fellow.”
“Yes, I believe I am.”
The inspector nodded and lowered his voice. “Can I speak to you confidentially and off the record, Mrs. Elliott?”
Berdie raised her brows. “Have we ever had a conversation that wasn’t confidential and off the record?”
Jasper Kent smiled. “Small villages can have quite the loud jungle drums.”
Berdie straightened. “Chief Inspector, there are both personal and professional ethics that I hold dear. Drumming is certainly not one of them.”
Kent gave an amused chuckle. “That’s one of the things I’ve always appreciated most about you, Berdie Elliott. You’re a woman of character, always have been, and, I should think, always will be.”
Berdie felt pink rise in her cheeks.
The detective ran a finger over the edge of his hat, glanced at the crime scene, and back to her. “In confidence. It was C4 explosive material, not particularly well done, a smaller amount than needed to do a really good job of it. It lacks precision, which tells us, most likely, the perp is not a military sort.” He paused. “Or…”
“Or the perp is quite clever in giving the appearance that they’ve no expertise in working with explosives, eliminating them as a suspect if they are a military sort.” Berdie finished Chief Inspector Kent’s sentence.
“Precisely.”
“But it bothers me. Who would want to go after Cedric, who’s retired from active service and well into pipe-and-slippers time? Why? And why here? It seems so odd.”
“We’re often less guarded when on holiday. But apart from that, you know, I’ve thought about eventual retirement from the Yard myself. But somehow, I can’t see growing cucumbers and leeks on a small allotment as taking up the lion’s share of my time and valuable experience. I’d need some other activity as well. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Berdie thought for a moment. Snap. “The commander was doing consulting work. In intelligence.”
The inspector didn’t say a word. His mouth simply turned upward on the ends.
“Well, if there’s some kind of a group responsible, the more people that are involved in the planning and execution of a crime, the more likelihood of a weak link, harder to keep things quiet. But a single person on their own, that’s a tougher nut to crack.”
“There’s a group who’s claimed responsibility,” Kent said hesitantly.
“Really?”
“It doesn’t come off as terribly likely. This bunch has been pretty much off the radar for a while now. It seems more probable that they need to make people take notice of them again, claiming the crime as a kind of attention seeking, if you will.”
“Fancy feigning destruction of a life as a means to appear strong and gain attention.”
“It’s a sad old world, Mrs. Elliott, a sad old world.”
“Yes, but we are at work, you and I, Inspector Kent.” Berdie stood her full height. “In our respective careers, we work to bring justice where there’s none. We bring the light to expose darkness, a light no darkness can quench.”
“Well.” Jasper Kent nodded. “I’ve not thought of it quite like that. And righteously delivered, I might add. Yes, indeed.”
“Inspector Kent,” a young policeman called out from the crime-scene area. “We have a question for you, sir.”
“I’ll be right there,” Kent responded. “Well, thank you, Mrs. Elliott.” The man put his hat on and brushed a finger over the brim. “I must get about my work and let you go about your spreading of light.” He pointed again to the Butz and Sons Electrics insignia.
“Now it’s your turn to be very droll, Chief Inspector.” Berdie let a hint of smile appear. “And you’re welcome. Anything I can do to aid in any way is a pleasure.”
He grinned and departed for the crime scene.
“God go with you,” Berdie said and got in the van.
“C4,” she breathed. “Oh, my dear Hugh. I’m afraid my spade is permanently attached.” She started the vehicle and made way for Kingsford, and whatever it might hold.
7
Apart from the manager of the flats barking out to her that workmen must park behind the building, and then squeezing down a one-car lane to get there, Berdie found driving the work van not unpleasant.
But now, standing at the door of Dave’s flat, Berdie wondered how pleasant things might be with Chad.
She knocked, breathed a simple “Lord have mercy,” and knocked a second time.
Finally, the door cracked open. An unshaved Chad, dark hair tousled, in his dressing robe and smelling a bit of gin, peered around the door’s edge.
Berdie rocked back at the sight of him, and the aroma offended her nose. Still, she put on a smile. But before she could extend a hello, Chad jumped in.
“So they sent you” was his l
ess-than-sparkling greeting. He opened the door a bit more, but he did not smile.
“They?” Berdie still remained pleasant.
“My dear old colleagues.” Chad placed a hand on the door’s edge, his other hand holding a small, empty, telltale glass. “Hugh rung up and told me you were coming”—his words bumped into each other—“but I can’t find my way to receive anyone at the moment. Now, you must excuse me. I think it best you go, Mrs. Elliott.”
Actually, given the state Chad was in, it probably was best not to enter the flat or pursue any lengthy conversation. Still, she had to make an attempt to engage him. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, Chad. I know the chaps are concerned.”
“Are they?” He leaned against the door’s frame. “Are they really?”
“And so am I. Perhaps if you were to go visit the commander…”
Chad frowned and began to close the door.
Berdie caught hold of it. “Whatever has happened between you and him, forgiveness is always a good choice.”
“Forgiveness?” he bawled. “Save it for your parishioners.”
Berdie’s indignation mingled with compassion. “Chad, you must realize you’re suspect in all this mess. You threatened Cedric just hours before his terrible ordeal. But if you paid him a visit…”
Chad opened the door more widely, leaned his head forward, and narrowed his eyes. “If I had done the commander, I wouldn’t have let him go out a hero, saving children, as is said, and there would be no hospital visits. It would have been a clean and accurate shot, done and dusted.”
Berdie didn’t flinch. “Well, now that we know what didn’t happen, how are you going to deal with what did happen?”
“Deal? Deal? Let me ask you something.” The tone of the young man’s voice was rough. “Let’s say you had a bean”—he shook his head—“a dean, or some churchman supervisor with whom you worked and respected.”
She wondered how many of Chad’s words were fermented in drink and how many were somewhat reasoned.
“They accuse you of immorality, imprudence, carrying on with deceptive intent, all the things that are worst in your line of work. Not that you’re guilty of any of it, mind you. But someone else’s honor is at stake and you can’t grass.” Chad tried to straighten his shoulders a bit. “You’ve put in years of faithful service, and you think surely that will win the day. But no, they tell you that you’re a traitor to the country…church.”
Berdie considered momentarily. Grass, meaning to rat to authorities about someone, wasn’t a common term. He was speaking about his time in the intelligence unit and likely revealing things that shouldn’t be spoken about in public. Though gin-generated, his intent could be decoded. Berdie listened rather more intently.
“Then they quietly push you out of your job.”
“Why push me out quietly if they believe I’ve done horrible things? Why not expose me?”
“And embarrass the coun—” He paused. “And embarrass the church? Reveal its dirty laundry and put lives at risk?”
Lives at risk. Aha.
“They push you out and make sure you can’t possibly work within your chosen field ever again.” He brandished his empty glass like an exclamation mark to prove his point. “You’ve given them your best, and they send you home stripped of all but disgrace. Now, how would you deal?”
Berdie considered her answer. She looked Chad straight in the eye. “As long as I let the feelings of injustice, caused by that high-ranking individual, burn within me to the point of loathing down to my very soul, that person continues to have control over my life.”
Chad cocked his head and blinked as if her words were a sobering cup of black coffee.
“For my own health, wellbeing, and vibrancy, as well as for that of the other person, really, I must move on. By God’s grace, and purely by His grace, there is a way. As an act of the will. Forgiveness is the means to do that. Forgiveness is a bridge to freedom, Chad.”
“Oh, so we’re back to that.”
“You asked how I would deal.”
Chad leaned his body against the doorframe, his glass at his side. “I s’pose I did.”
The fellow’s posture began to slip.
“I won’t keep you any longer, Chad. But do think about what I’ve said. Oh, and going in an entirely different direction, I’m having some guests to dinner Thursday night at the vicarage. I’d love to see you there. Will you come?”
Chad wore surprise and tapped his glass on his chest. “You’re inviting me?”
“And the rest of the rowing team as well.”
He simply stared at her.
She leaned her head closer and lowered her voice. “I should shave before you come.”
He drew a hand over his stubble.
“Thank you for your time, Chad. Do feel better.” Berdie turned to go.
“Mrs. Elliott.” Chad’s gentle response was quite humane. He looked at the floor. “Good of you to call.”
Berdie nodded. “God go with you.”
As she retreated down the hall, she heard the door close. She sent an arrow of prayer up on Chad’s behalf with the sincere hope that he would think on her words and no longer seek empty solace in the bottle.
On her drive home, Berdie attempted to puzzle pieces together. The commander had dismissed Chad from service for what Chad considered some illegitimate reason, still unknown to her. Chad’s words, “Someone’s honor was at stake…I can’t grass,” stuck in her head. Someone close to him was guilty of something, and he knew about it, but no one else did. Who? And what did they do? Did any of this matter tie in with the commander’s misfortune? Things seemed to bump and jumble a bit in her head. And she certainly hadn’t been on the gin.
Berdie tucked the conversation with Chad into a corner of her brain. She had done her church duty as Hugh requested and garnered new information at the same time. Well done for now.
Once back in Aidan Kirkwood, she stopped at the White Window Box Garden and Gifts Shop to get a small gift to take to Tillie tomorrow morning, a kind of peace offering.
As Berdie got out of the work van in front of the shop, Ivy Butz hustled toward Raheem’s Greengrocer on the other side of the road, giving two-and-a-half-year-old Dotty Butz a ride for her money in the pushchair.
Upon seeing Berdie, Ivy delivered a full-throttle wave of her large arm that seemed to emanate from her very toes. Berdie returned the gesture.
“How’s the van working out for you then?”
“Thanks to you and your husband’s generosity, wonderfully. Cheers, Ivy.”
The full-moon cheeks that blossomed at the ends of Ivy’s gracious smile always made the day seem a little brighter. Though she kept her ample body moving toward the grocer’s, her boisterous call, a family trait amongst the Butz household, boomed with exuberance. “Sparks is doing well. My Martha and Milty are so taken with him; it’s all I can do to get them to my dinner table.”
“Vets in training, no doubt,” Berdie returned.
Ivy enthusiastically nodded and continued her march onward.
Two villagers that stood near Berdie glared at Ivy, then at her.
“Mrs. Elliott,” one snipped in greeting and gave a terse nod.
The other leaned close to her friend. “Yelling in the street like a pair of fishwives,” she said just loud enough for Berdie to hear. “And her a vicar’s wife.”
Berdie had too much to do to invest negative energy in reacting to such a comment.
“God go with you,” she called with some grace to the two and stepped into the White Window Box.
Berdie knew just what she wanted to give Tillie. She whisked past the floral counter and went straightway to the shabby chic cupboard that was filled with bath accessories. She chose three lavender bath balls. She took in the lovely scent, being sure Tillie would enjoy a relaxing soak. The young woman would inhale the fragrance while the ball melted with a fizzy action in the warm bath, inducing comfort. After all, lavender was stacked and burned in the
wilds to appease restless lions. It would surely help lessen Tillie’s stress.
“Hello, Mrs. Elliott.” Cara Graystone Donovan’s long blonde hair was bound up in a single braid that draped her left shoulder, making her gray eyes and lovely cheekbones even more prominent.
“Cara, hello.” Berdie placed the bath balls in the woman’s hands. “Just purchasing a gift. Could you wrap these, please?”
“Oh, we’ve some newly designed gift-wrap just in that will go quite well. And new ribbon. I’ll just go round the back and take care of it for you.”
“Lovely, Cara. Thank you.”
The young mother bounced behind checkout and disappeared through an open door to a back room.
The jingle of the shop bell danced as someone entered. Berdie recognized the young man right away. He was Mrs. Hall’s nephew, Stuart, and the dentist recently come to Aidan Kirkwood. He had spent boyhood August holidays in Aidan Kirkwood and so loved the place. He now served the village part-time since the bulk of his newly established primary practice was in Timsley.
“Mr. Hall, good afternoon.”
“Hello, Mrs. Elliott. Although I must say it perhaps is not so good for my Aunty Dora.” The rather short dentist ran his tongue on the inside of his lower teeth. “Her oral surgery was today.”
“Yes, probably not a wonderful afternoon for her. My husband plans to call.”
“Ah. Just going to order a small posy to wish her a speedy recovery.” Stuart’s broad smile was dazzling white.
“That’s very kind. I’m sure it will bring comfort to your aunt.”
“Yes.” The fellow looked round.
“Cara should be right out to help you. She’s wrapping a gift for me.”
Mr. Hall nodded.
“Everyone is quite excited about your practice here. You must be amassing patients by the minute.”
“A far greater amount than I anticipated.” The doctor tapped a finger on the floral counter.
“Including the little Limb children?”
“Sorry, who?”
“Oh, perhaps their last name isn’t Limb. Little Emmy and Max. Sweet children. About five and seven? They had an appointment with you late Saturday afternoon.”
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