Murder in an English Village

by Jessica Ellicott

  The other two girls were assigned to agricultural duties. Polly had been one of them. They worked the fields, plowing and weeding, harvesting as the crops came in. The dairy girls did not have any overlapping duties with Norman Davies as far as Edwina could see. The agricultural girls, however, did. In fact they worked with him almost daily and Edwina had made a note on one of the ledger pages that Norman was becoming a very responsible part of the establishment himself despite his initial frustration with being left out of the action abroad. Edwina remembered as she read the notes that she had worried about his attitude and had discussed as much with Hortense at the time the estate opened.

  Agnes had a job of her own above and beyond supervising the others. It was a cold and lonely business and it was a testament to her character that she had volunteered to drive the milk float. Early each and every morning, seven days each week, Agnes loaded cans of milk onto a wagon and hitched it to a resentful pony. At first Agnes had been scared to death of the creature who tried to kick and to bite her. But over time they seemed to have formed an understanding and Agnes could be heard talking soothingly to Joe as they headed out to make the deliveries.

  Each day Agnes and Joe would amble as quickly through the village as Joe’s short, arthritic legs could manage. They stopped at all the houses and businesses along her route that requested milk and left the amount that could be spared according to supply and to the ages and occupants of the premises. Edwina ran her finger along the rows of writing chronicling the names and quantities requested. The route was long and took Agnes hours to complete each day.

  Much of the year she set out in darkness but she always came back with a cheerful countenance. Edwina remembered remarking on the girl’s attitude one day upon her return. Agnes had said how much she preferred the great outdoors to the stifling conditions in a factory. She was glad to do her bit where she could see off into the distance and breathe fresh air.

  Her comments that morning were one of the reasons Edwina had found it so difficult to credit her disappearance. The ledgers brought it all back in a flood of memories. The last few days had caused her to turn increasingly to the past in her mind and she found it was not a place she was enjoying visiting. She ran her finger along the column containing the names of the properties Agnes routinely visited for deliveries and Edwina envisioned her route. She was still hunched over the table concentrating on the path Agnes would have travelled when she heard the front door open. Dusk was beginning to fall. Beryl had arrived home in time for tea.

  “I’m in here,” she said, pitching her voice loudly enough to be heard down the hall. “Come see what I’ve found.”

  Edwina barely heard the footsteps behind her before she felt a blazing pain on the back of her head. She never felt the pain of her body toppling forward and her face striking the desk in front of her.

  Chapter 24

  Beryl had not felt so worried since her first attempt at a transcontinental aeroplane journey had ended with the need for a parachute. Dr. Nelson had arrived only moments after she telephoned and she liked to think she sounded cool and collected when his wife had answered at his home. She rather thought she had not.

  “How is she?” Beryl asked as soon as Dr. Nelson closed Edwina’s bedroom door quietly behind himself and stepped out into the adjacent hallway.

  “Resting. I don’t believe she’ll suffer any lasting damage but she will have a tremendous headache,” Dr. Nelson said. “She was very, very fortunate not to have been killed. What on earth are the two of you playing at?”

  “We aren’t playing at anything. We are investigating a murder. Clearly we’ve been making progress since Ed has been attacked not once but twice,” Beryl said.

  “There is only Miss Davenport’s word for the notion that she was attacked the last time.”

  “Nonsense, she still has bruising along her neck.”

  “I saw it myself. I think it far more likely her scarf got entangled in some branches of some sort. The logical explanation for what occurred was that she panicked, and being a typical old maid assumed someone was assaulting her.”

  “You believe she made up being attacked in her own garden because she has never married?”

  “It has been my experience that spinsters have tendencies towards hysteria. I have always found Miss Davenport to be a reasonable woman but there comes a time when even the most sensible of women begin to display signs of a nervous or fanciful disposition.”

  “Are you saying Edwina is losing her wits because she has never married and she is slightly older than you are?”

  “I am saying there is really no crime in Walmsley Parva. At least none that you two are qualified to investigate.”

  “You just saw for yourself that there is someone here about attacking women. Constable Gibbs is not making an effort to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Like I told Miss Davenport, she has likely attracted an unstable sort of person with her advertisement in the newspapers. I doubt it is more than that. You should both stay indoors at night for the time being and make a point of locking up even when you are home.”

  “Are you forgetting that Polly was killed? If that isn’t a crime I don’t know what is.”

  “You’ve already been told by Constable Gibbs, Polly wasn’t killed. She died in a tragic accident. I examined her body myself and the wounds on her head were consistent with hitting it on the rock found near her body in the field.” Dr. Nelson shook his head at Beryl. “If you don’t stop behaving foolishly I expect your friend will suffer another tragedy before long.”

  “You think this is our fault?” Beryl asked. “You think we should blame ourselves for what has happened to Edwina?”

  “I should think you should blame yourself. I have it on good authority that you went into the village and started spreading the ridiculous story that two women, especially those of your age, are agents of the Crown. Not only that, you asserted that you were highly skilled operatives. Your friend has suffered a great deal of loss in the last few years. I believe your stories caused her to become delusional. I am very much afraid that if you don’t desist in your meddling and fabrications she will end up entirely losing touch with reality.” Dr. Nelson stared at Beryl and waggled a recriminating finger in her direction.

  “You think I am driving Edwina mad?” Beryl asked.

  “I am cautioning you that she is very vulnerable and that you may well be responsible for her current difficulties. I have known Miss Davenport for years upon years and she was managing her life very competently before you arrived. I would not be surprised if something about you stirs up difficulties wherever you go.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first man to say so.”

  “I hope for Miss Davenport’s sake that I am the last. Keep an eye on her and don’t encourage her in her delusions. Rest and tranquillity are what she needs to return to her usual sensible self.” Dr. Nelson headed for the stairs then stopped and turned back towards her. “If you don’t follow my advice I cannot be responsible for her recovery. I’ll see myself out.”

  * * *

  The light outside had faded to sooty darkness by the time Edwina heard the doctor take his leave and Beryl quietly turn the doorknob and enter her room. She turned her face towards Beryl and her eyes squinted at the hall light streaming in through the door.

  “You’re awake?” Beryl asked, pulling a straight-back chair over to the side of the bed from its usual place at the dressing table.

  “It would be hard not to be with the doctor here fussing over me and then the two of you having that heated conversation just outside my door.”

  “You heard that, did you?” Beryl asked, reaching over to straighten the coverlet.

  “Every word.”

  “Since you were the subject of the conversation, I suppose it was only right that you overheard it. Do you think we should follow the doctor’s advice and leave well enough alone?”

  “You mean should we stop asking questions and investigating?” Edwina said.
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br />   “Yes. Should we take the constable’s word for it and believe that Agnes’ disappearance was nothing to be concerned about and that Polly’s death was a tragic accident?”

  “I hope that question is not because you agree with that condescending man that I am a delusional, withered-up old hag with a bad case of nerves?” Edwina used her hands to hoist herself into a half-seated position. “You don’t think I was making up the attack in the garden, do you?”

  “Of course not. I wish I could say I was surprised by Dr. Nelson’s attitude but I can’t say that I haven’t encountered his sort of narrow-minded resistance to independent women before. You’re lucky it isn’t twenty years earlier. He might have had you shut away in a madhouse for suggesting anything had happened that he did not like to hear.”

  “Dr. Nelson has always been a bit of a know-it-all. I can’t say that I liked the way he handled things when either of my parents began ailing.” Edwina winced as she adjusted her head against the iron headboard of the bed. “I am not the least bit impressed with his diagnosis in my case.”

  “So you wish to continue with the investigation?” Beryl asked. Her face was uncharacteristically pinched and Edwina was surprised to see lines crinkling Beryl’s forehead.

  “What else are we to do? I assume there was another attack on me since I find myself unexpectedly tucked up in bed with a blazing headache and the doctor fussing about without my recollection as to how any of that came to take place.”

  “Don’t you remember anything about what happened?”

  “I was sitting at the desk in the library reading over some records when I heard you come in for tea. The next thing I knew there was a terrific thump at the back of my head.”

  “I should say there was. It wasn’t me that came upon you sitting at the desk. I found you sometime later slumped over it, facedown, knocked out cold.”

  “So I was attacked?”

  “Unless you managed to give yourself that great walloping, then yes, you were assaulted again. For a quiet lady such as yourself this has been quite a week.”

  “Did you see the ledgers? The diaries?” Edwina asked.

  “All I saw was you sagging over the desk. There was nothing on it but a pen holder, an ink bottle, and a paper knife we should both be grateful the assailant did not decide to use instead of whatever he or she did find to hand.”

  “The ledgers were from the Wallingford Estate. They were the registers I kept for the Land Army along with all of my notes about the routes and the girls and their responsibilities on the estate.” Edwina closed her eyes once more.

  “Well they aren’t there anymore. Whomever coshed you on the head took them with him or her.” Beryl jumped to her feet and began pacing the floor. “The assailant must have thought there was something in them that could connect him or her to what happened to Agnes or Polly or maybe both.”

  “But what could there have been in there?” Edwina asked. “I read them over myself and didn’t see anything in my notes that stuck out at me.”

  “Whoever took them likely didn’t know exactly what was written down in there. They could have assumed it held a secret they wished to keep. Do you feel well enough to remember what you read?”

  “I’ll try,” Edwina said. “There were mostly notes about the routines at the Wallingford Estate. Who did which sort of jobs and when they did them and with whom.”

  “Did you see anything of note?”

  “Agnes and Polly worked together. Agnes was the supervisor of two work gangs and Polly was on the one involving agriculture.”

  “That makes me think of something Hortense told me this afternoon. She said she thought Agnes and Polly and Norman all knew each other on the estate and that there may have been some difficulty between Norman and Agnes. Hortense saw him grabbing her by the arm behind one of the barns.”

  “She never said at the time of Agnes’ disappearance. I wonder why that was.”

  “She indicated she thought he was interested in Agnes romantically and that she did not reciprocate.”

  “I doubt it. As far as I knew he only ever had eyes for Polly.”

  “Hortense said she thought Polly was jealous. She said she got the impression that one of the reasons Polly began working at the estate was to keep an eye on Norman. Hortense thought he might throw her over for one of the more sophisticated city girls who joined the Land Army,” Beryl said.

  “I can see how Polly might be worried about a thing like that but I don’t think that Norman was a young man with a roving eye. I would have made a note of a thing like that in the ledger and all I saw about him was how he seemed to be adjusting to the idea that his service on the farm was more valuable to the war effort than serving overseas,” Edwina said.

  “It would have seemed irksome for many young men to be kept at home while others were able to claim the supposed glory of battle.” Beryl let out a soft sigh. “Poor Norman. He was one of the lucky ones and I’m sure it doesn’t feel like that to him even now,”

  “We know it doesn’t. Remember yesterday he said he thought his lack of foreign service was the reason Polly wanted to cut off her relationship with him,” Edwina said. “I suppose that sort of a wound to a man’s pride could have made him turn violent. He always was a bit of a hothead when it came to his reputation.”

  “But could he have thought there was something in your ledgers that pointed to him harming Polly or Agnes? Everyone in Walmsley Parva knew he had an interest in Polly. He needn’t have stolen the ledgers to keep that a secret.”

  “I can’t think what it would have been and now I am not sure we will ever know. If the ledgers are gone I can’t check them over to see what might have been of value,” Edwina said. “Do you think the person who attacked me was trying to hurt me or were they trying to get the ledgers without me knowing their identity?”

  “I have no idea. The assailant could have snuck back into the house later I suppose if they didn’t want to hurt you. I think we’d best assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised if no one really tried to murder you,” Beryl said. “Although, after what happened to Polly, I don’t think we have much cause to believe someone did not wish you real harm.”

  “Do you think a woman could have done this?” Edwina asked. “I feel like the power of the blow was enormous.”

  “With the right weapon there is no reason a little girl couldn’t have done it,” Beryl said. “All you would need is something with a good decent heft that you could wrap your hand around and really swing.”

  “Something like the spanner you told me about at Blackburn’s Garage?” Edwina asked.

  “Something very much like that. We can’t rule anyone out without more information.”

  “Then we’d best get back to asking questions.”

  “Are you certain you’ll feel up to it? I can go on without you if you need to spend tomorrow in bed resting.”

  “If I am to maintain the reputation you’ve given me as a highly trained and effective agent in His Majesty’s service I’d best be on my feet tomorrow morning and back on the trail. After all, if Dr. Nelson is willing to say such disparaging things to my dear friend, what will he be saying around the village?”

  “Then I suppose we had best divide up the suspects. Who’s on your list?” Beryl asked.

  “I’m afraid Norman is at the top of my list. He has reason to be angry with Polly if she threw him over, and the information you gathered from Hortense makes me wonder just what he might have had to do with Agnes’ disappearance. He was also on the spot for each occasion.”

  “Do you want to interview him again directly?”

  “I’m not sure. After today, I confess I am a little afraid of going out to his cottage on my own.”

  “You could always ask your Mr. Jarvis to accompany you. I’m sure he would be delighted to do so.”

  “I’ve already told you, he’s not my Mr. Jarvis. Besides, I thought you said we needed to consider everyone a suspect until we ruled him or her out through caref
ul enquiry. That should include Charles.”

  “As you like.”

  “Who is your chief suspect?” Edwina asked.

  “I would dearly love it to be that odious Mr. Mumford but I am rather afraid it just might be Michael Blackburn.”

  “Because of Norah’s tale about his obsession with Agnes?”

  “That and a couple of other things. I am not convinced he wasn’t the one driving my car when Polly would have been leaving the cinema if she stayed for the late show like Walter the projectionist said that she did,” Beryl said.

  “From what Norah had to say he might have been off-kilter enough to do anything. Who’s to say he didn’t behave the same way towards Polly that he did with Agnes?”

  “You think he might be the man Polly threw over Norman for?”

  “Why not? He’s handsome and young and has a good job that doesn’t involve either working a farm or working in domestic service. And he served overseas.”

  “Which makes him the sort of man Norman thought she was interested in.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I think I’ll go talk to Mr. Mumford in the morning just to satisfy my curiosity. Maybe I will have luck on my side and he will confess to Polly’s murder with almost no pressure,” Beryl said smiling. “What do you want to do?”

  “I think I shall go into town and make sure everyone sees me and knows I am still amongst the living. My presence may serve to unnerve someone enough to let something slip that they might not have done without me appearing.” Edwina tried to put on a brave face. She wanted to interview other suspects but she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to tackle anyone head-on anytime soon. She didn’t wish to admit it to herself, let alone Beryl that she was well and truly rattled.

  Just outside the doorway footsteps fell along the corridor. Edwina’s head jerked in the direction of the sound. Beryl placed a steadying hand on Edwina’s trembling one clutching at the coverlet as. Crumpet dashed inside and leapt onto the bed. He crawled onto Edwina’s lap and lay down with his chin on her chest. Edwina slid back down under the covers and heaved a deep sigh.