Murder in an English Village

by Jessica Ellicott

  “You knew Agnes as well as anyone at the Wallingford Estate. Was she having any trouble with anyone that you can remember? Did she have any particular attachments?”

  “All the girls were too tired at the end of the day to do much more than to head off to bed as early as they could manage. There isn’t much to get up to in Walmsley Parva, as you well know, even if they were so inclined.”

  “There was the cinema and the tearoom. The reading room may have had appeal for Agnes. I seem to remember her being an enthusiastic reader.”

  “Now that you’re prodding my recollection, I believe she used to read to patients at the hospital when she had the energy of an evening.”

  “That’s right, she did.” Edwina was surprised that she had forgotten such a thing. Her memory really was starting to slip. Sadly, not away from the painful memories though, only the useful or inconsequential ones. “Do you think she might have run into difficulties while she was there?”

  “I’m sure I couldn’t say. There were all sorts at the hospital at the time and not every one of them was someone it would have paid to be alone with for any length of time.”

  “Surely she wouldn’t have been alone with a recovering soldier if she were reading aloud to the men in the ward.”

  “The hospital was not my bailiwick. Early on, Dr. Nelson and I agreed to observe strict boundaries between the two halves of the Wallingford Estate. His domain was the hospital and mine was the agricultural endeavors with never the twain should meet,” Hortense said. “Even if she did volunteer there I doubt he’d remember her.”

  Edwina was not sure she would agree. Although her own experience with the male of the species was rather limited and had only included close contact with her own father and her beloved and much mourned brother, she could not quite credit the idea an attractive young woman like Agnes would have failed to make an impression upon the doctor. He might have been a respected member of the community, and a married man, but he was still as likely as the next man to appreciate a pretty face and a fine figure.

  Edwina decided once she had spent enough time to consider she had made an effort she would leave Hortense to finish on her own and would use her bruises as an excuse to visit Dr. Nelson’s surgery. Calling ahead for an appointment was always wise but perhaps fortune would be on her side and she would manage to secure the doctor’s attention for a few moments.

  “Once I’ve finished up here with you, I think I’ll stop by his surgery and ask if he might take a look at my neck. I could do with some sort of liniment for it.”

  “Suit yourself. If you wish to waste your time I shan’t try to stop you.”

  Chapter 7

  Beryl strolled back into the centre of the village lost in thought. Her conversation with Polly had yielded nothing particularly fruitful, which was, of course, discouraging. This detecting business was less exciting than Sherlock Holmes stories suggested it might be. Still, there was no denying Edwina had suffered a very real attack. She might have been wrong about Agnes Rollins being the cause of it, but evidently someone had been thoroughly upset by the possibility that Edwina was on the hunt for criminal activity.

  Beryl had to wonder if whatever was going on was more recent than a wartime missing person. It was far less likely that there were no spies in the country than that there were any number of them. What better place to lay low than a sleepy backwater like Walmsley Parva? The ruckus had started because Prudence believed Edwina and Beryl were employed by His Majesty for just such countermeasures. Surely it wasn’t too much of a stretch to consider the notion that there was indeed cause for alarm in the village. It might not be spies either. With all the unrest, there was no reason not to suspect labor organizers or even the Irish of working towards goals the King would not be pleased to hear about.

  There was still plenty of time before lunch and it occurred to her to check on her automobile. The day before, the garage had been locked and the mechanic nowhere in sight when she had called. She had pulled the automobile to the side of the road in front of the garage, which bore a sign proclaiming it to be BLACKBURN AND BLACKBURN GARAGE AND CAB COMPANY. She had slid a note through the letter slot describing the services she hoped they could render and had promptly put the entire matter out of her mind. But now, with the investigation at a quiet interlude, she decided to stop in to ask after her prized possession. As her vehicle was no longer standing at the side of the road she had high hopes that the requested repairs were under way.

  Banging and clanging filled the air as she stepped into the wood framed building whose wide doors stood flung open permitting the daylight to stream in and play upon the shiny scarlet paint of her car. A pair of small feet clad in greasy, leather boots protruded from below her scarlet vehicle. A tall man bent over under the hood and called out suggestions to whomever was stretched beneath. Viewed from behind, he was an attractive young man. After her last divorce, Beryl had vowed to herself she would never marry again. At least not anytime soon. Still, she was never one to shut her eyes when passing a pastry case simply because she wasn’t actually hungry. Beryl smoothed the ends of her platinum hair and stepped in out of the breeze.

  “Hello, I see you found my note,” she called. The man whirled around at the sound of her voice. Beryl noted with a familiar and exhausting sense of pity that one of his sleeves was empty below the elbow and the excess fabric was pinned back out of the way. She wondered at his ability to continue in his trade with such a challenge. The man’s eyes widened and a surprised smile spread across his face as he looked her up and down from her hat to her wildly impractical shoes.

  “I told you it really was her,” he said with a raised voice. The body that accompanied the boots beneath the automobile slid out and revealed itself. An impish-looking young woman with the same dark coloring and bright blue eyes as the young man sprang to her feet and hastily wiped her hands on her coveralls before offering one to Beryl.

  “Michael and I laid a bet that the note you left was some sort of elaborate scheme dreamt up by the Prude.”

  “Prudence Rathbone, the postmistress,” Michael interpreted. “Across the way. She said she’d seen you but my sister Norah here has always been a bit of a skeptic.”

  “Only where that woman is concerned. I can’t scratch my nose over here without her reporting to the whole village I’ve contracted small pox.” The young woman shook her head as she peered out through the garage door to the shop across the street.

  “I take it I am in the presence of Blackburn and Blackburn?” Beryl asked.

  “You are and we hope to have your motorcar back on the road by the day after tomorrow at the very latest.” Michael patted the shiny red paint of a side panel with his remaining hand.

  “I am relieved to hear it. I miss her already.” Beryl felt a tug as she looked down at the crumpled front fender of her beautiful machine. Generally she didn’t form attachments to possessions but in the case of the car she found herself utterly smitten.

  “I would, too. She’s a beauty,” Norah said.

  “Would you like to take her out for a run once you’ve finished up with the repairs?” Beryl asked. “Unless that would be a bit of a busman’s holiday for you?”

  The two siblings turned to each other, identical grins spreading across their faces. “We’d love to,” they said in unison.

  “That’s settled then. Would it be too much to ask you to deliver it to the Beeches once you’ve tested it out for road worthiness?”

  “Miss Davenport’s place?” Norah asked.

  “That’s right. I’m staying there with her for the time being. We were at school together as girls and I plan to be here for some time renewing our acquaintance.”

  “That wasn’t what Prudence had to say. She made up some sort of outrageous story about you and Edwina collaborating on secret missions during the war.”

  “Did you believe her?” Beryl asked.

  “I don’t generally, but with what all the papers have had to say about you over the y
ears I thought if it really was you here in Walmsley Parva then the rest of it might be true as well,” Michael said.

  “What about you, Norah? Did you believe that I was here to assist Edwina with a secret mission on behalf of the King?”

  “Truthfully I thought our nosy neighbour had finally gone round the twist. I was quite looking forward to her finally being carted off to the local insane asylum. I quite like the idea of having a postmistress that doesn’t read one’s post,” Norah said. The Blackburn siblings shared a long look and Beryl felt a tingle of excitement. Perhaps there was a bit of a mystery Edwina had not considered. Prudence Rathbone would make a very satisfying villain.

  “We’ve never been that lucky, sis,” Michael said. “I don’t expect our luck to change now.” Beryl caught him glancing at his empty sleeve and she felt a pang for him.

  “How can you say that, Michael?” Norah delivered a playful punch to his fully functioning arm. “Did you ever think you’d have the chance to work on a celebrity’s motorcar?”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Michael said. Another vehicle pulled up in front of the garage and a man waved at them. “Another customer. Maybe you really are right.” He stepped out into the sunshine and began to speak with the newcomer.

  “Have the two of you been in business together long?” Beryl asked, keeping her eyes on Norah whose own gaze stayed fixed on her brother.

  “Only since the war. It was simply Blackburn’s Garage before then. When Michael volunteered I took over. I wasn’t sure I knew quite what I was doing, but it turned out that I had spent so many years watching him that I had picked up far more knowledge about the job than either of us realized,” Norah said. “When he was discharged due to his injury I was determined he’d have a job to come home to so I just kept on. He wouldn’t admit it of course but there are some parts of the job you simply need more than one hand for. So I lend him one or two of mine and we keep going.”

  “It sounds like you are all the luck your brother needs,” Beryl said.

  “I try to be.”

  “Do you both drive the cabs too or is there another Blackburn hiding round here somewhere?”

  “It’s just us. Michael does most of the driving. He says he can think better when he’s behind the wheel.”

  “That is a sentiment he and I share,” Beryl said. “I shall be glad to have it back as I have need of a good place to think. You see, Miss Rathbone was not only correct about my presence in the village. She was also reporting the truth about the reason for my visit. Edwina and I are investigating some irregularities here in Walmsley Parva.” Beryl studied Norah’s face as her words sank in.

  “That’s about the most shocking thing I’ve ever heard. Whatever could possibly need investigating around here?” Norah’s eyes widened and looked not unlike the headlamps of the car.

  “You didn’t ever do any work on the Wallingford Estate during the time the Land Army was there, did you?” Beryl asked. “Fixing machinery, that sort of thing?”

  “Now and again they would give me a call about something or other. I wasn’t there very often though. So much of the equipment was manual that there wasn’t too much call for a mechanic. They even had a horse and cart for the milk deliveries. Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered if either of you knew a young woman by the name of Agnes Rollins?” Beryl asked. Norah’s posture stiffened and she drew a rag from her pocket and began slowly wiping her hands with careful attention.

  “I did know her and would appreciate it if you didn’t mention her name in front of my brother.”

  “He knew her too, I assume?” Beryl watched the men bending over the engine of the vehicle in front of the garage. Michael was pointing at something and the other man nodded as though he had some inkling what all the works under the hood were about. It was easy to imagine Michael as hale and hearty before the horrors of war had dug into him.

  “Yes. They were friends of a sort, but she took off without a word. He has never quite gotten over it.”

  “Were they sweethearts then?” Beryl asked.

  “No, I wouldn’t say that. It’s hard to explain in a hurry. Michael looks quite well now but he was not himself for ever so long. I should be very upset to think anything distressed him unnecessarily and sent him back into one of his dark spells.” Both women looked at the young man in the dooryard silently. Beryl nodded.

  “I shall be sure not to ask him anything about her. At least for the time being. But I should like to ask you more about her later in private if I may?” Beryl said. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come by for luncheon at the Beeches when you drop the car off and you can tell me all about it then?”

  “What will I tell Michael if he wants to join me?”

  “Say it’s a lady’s luncheon and he wouldn’t enjoy it.”

  “You obviously don’t know Michael if you think that will dissuade him.” Norah looked at her brother again. “I’ll tell him you’re planning to serve a cold vegetable soup. That should put him off. But don’t get your hopes up. I really didn’t know Agnes all that well and it has been ages since last I saw her.”

  “That’s the point really. It has been ages since anyone has seen her. Edwina never was satisfied with her disappearance. She truly believes something happened to her.”

  “Are you suggesting she didn’t leave Walmsley Parva of her own free will?”

  “I think Edwina was suggesting she didn’t leave this village at all.” Michael shook hands with the other man and turned to give Norah a smile and a nod. He moved in their direction.

  “In that case I especially hope you shan’t say anything to Michael. He should find such a suggestion most distressing.” Norah’s voice took a note of pleading.

  “I can promise you I shan’t say a thing to him until after our luncheon,” Beryl said. She gave her car a loving pat on the hood and nodded good-bye to the younger woman before stepping out onto the sidewalk once more. She raised her hand to Michael and felt Norah’s eyes upon her. As she set off for the Beeches she couldn’t shake the feeling there was much more running around under the surface in quiet Walmsley Parva than anyone would notice at a glance.

  Chapter 8

  “I’m sorry, but whingeing at me shan’t make a bit of difference,” Edwina said to Crumpet as she tied his lead to an iron fence post. “It’s one thing to take a dog into the village hall. It’s quite another to take one into a doctor’s surgery.” She patted him on his scruffy head before heading towards the surgery.

  Nurse Crenshaw looked up from behind the wide wooden desk when Edwina pushed open the door. “Miss Davenport, I don’t remember you making an appointment for today,” she said, peering down her large nose at an open appointment diary on the desk in front of her.

  “Your memory is as sound as ever. Something has come up unexpectedly and I thought I would take the chance that the doctor might be able to squeeze me in.” Edwina drew herself up to her full height. Not that it made her particularly imposing. She was not a tall woman, in fact most would call her short, but she had found that displays of impeccable posture had an effect on others.

  “The doctor does not take patients without appointments. It is a strict policy, as I am sure you are well aware.”

  “Is the doctor marked down with a patient at present?” Edwina asked in a bolder voice than her usual one. In Edwina’s considered opinion nurses were sorely inclined to think themselves rather more powerful and important than they ought. Especially Nurse Crenshaw. What the doctor saw in her Edwina would never know. She leaned over the appointment diary and tapped her finger on a blank place. She then gave a pointed look at the wall clock. “I see he is not. I would appreciate it if you added my name.”

  “Calling ahead is the preferred method for making an appointment. This is not a butcher shop where one simply stops in and begins giving orders. Besides, the doctor will be needing his dinner right now if he is to manage to eat before his afternoon appointments. Isn’t that right, Doctor?” Nurse
Crenshaw called out past Edwina’s shoulder. Edwina turned to see Dr. Nelson framed in the doorway to his examining room.

  “I can always find time for my patients. Especially those as infrequently ill as Miss Davenport. Please come through,” he said, stepping aside to allow her to enter the room. Edwina felt the hot scowl of Nurse Crenshaw’s disapproval attempting to blister her back. Dr. Nelson closed the door firmly and gave her a welcoming smile. “She means well but I don’t suppose that makes her attitude any easier on my patients.”

  “I can come back later if I am keeping you from your dinner. I shouldn’t like to inconvenience you or your wife,” Edwina said. Dr. Nelson shook his head.

  “It’s no trouble at all. I find I never have any appetite anymore and Margery never notices if I am coming or going, as I am quite sure you are aware.”

  “She’s much the same then?” Edwina asked.

  “Yes. I’m afraid she is one patient completely beyond my ability to cure. I do wish there was some way to convince her to invite a few people over to play bridge again or to serve on the flower committee at the church, but she just won’t hear of it.” Dr. Nelson ran a boney hand through his thinning hair. Even after the war began he and his wife had carried on entertaining and had been leaders in social circles in the village. Edwina had been a guest from time to time at their home and had always enjoyed the occasions. All that had changed, however, when the Nelsons’ young son Alan had sickened with influenza and died. Margery had taken it very hard and Edwina thought she had blamed her husband for his inability to save their child. She almost never left the house. It was remarked in the village that she had not felt the kiss of the sun on her skin since her son died two years earlier. People, not unkindly, offered advice as to how to cure her time to time but the doctor only changed the subject whenever his wife was mentioned. “But my domestic affairs are not what brings you in to the surgery I am sure. What seems to be the trouble?” He pulled out the visitor’s chair in front of his desk. Edwina settled herself and crossed her ankles.