“Agnes, it is so good to see you,” he said, catching her hand in his own. “Where did you take yourself off to? And why did you leave without saying good-bye?”
“I had obligations in London and I couldn’t get out of them, Michael. I’m very sorry if I hurt you by leaving without warning,” Agnes said.
“I’m just so glad to see you safe and sound. Miss Davenport here had the countryside turned on its ear looking for you in the days after you left.”
“She did indeed.” Constable Gibbs stopped next to Edwina and looked Agnes up and down. “I told you at the time there was no reason to get so heated about Miss Rollins leaving town. Just as there is no reason to think anything criminal happened to Polly. I hope you’ve learned your lesson about meddling in things amateurs ought to leave to the authorities.” Constable Gibbs scowled at them both and turned on her heel.
“Even though I wasn’t missing, I’m more touched than I can say that you put such effort into looking for me. Most people would not have bothered.”
Michael reached out and touched Agnes’ sleeve. “Will you take a walk with me?” he asked. “I have so much I’d like to say to you.”
Agnes looked at Edwina and then back at him. Norah stood hovering just a few feet away. Edwina could feel desperation coming off of Michael in waves but wasn’t sure that it meant he posed a threat to Agnes. Agnes gave Edwina a small smile of reassurance.
“I would be delighted to visit with you but only if Norah agrees to accompany us. After all, I’m not the sort of girl to ignore one friend in favor of another,” Agnes said. Edwina couldn’t be sure because of the distance but she thought she heard Norah exhaling a long-held breath.
Norah stepped up and linked her arm in Agnes’. “Come along to the garage and see what we’ve done to the place while you’ve been away.”
“Sounds delightful. Miss Davenport, I’ll be back to the Beeches in time for tea if that suits you and Miss Helliwell,” Agnes said.
“If you aren’t back by then I will put out a call to Constable Gibbs to come find you. Maybe she will do a better job a second time around if the need arises.” Edwina watched as the three younger people walked off in the direction of the garage. Michael waved his good arm about exuberantly while Norah held on to Agnes’ waist like they were long-lost sisters. Edwina was startled when Charles Jarvis’ voice filled her ear.
“You must be quite pleased to finally have that mystery solved.” He nodded towards the retreating trio.
“I am, actually,” Edwina said.
“I wonder if everyone in Walmsley Parva shares your view,” Charles said. “There may be those who were just as happy for her to stay missing.” They stood silently watching the funeral-goers file past. Edwina felt the sudden desire to rush home to the safety of her own four walls.
“Miss Davenport, you look as though you’ve taken a turn. Please allow me to accompany you home.” Edwina looked at Charles, a man she had known for years, and wondered how much she really knew about him. Or any of her neighbors for that matter. It seemed to her that the person responsible for Polly’s death had likely attended her funeral. Edwina could not say with any degree of truth that any one of them acted in a way that implied guilt. A cold shiver ran up her spine. She didn’t relish the idea of walking home on her own but the idea of trusting Charles was suddenly not appealing either.
Just then she heard the honking of an insistent horn. She turned to see Beryl’s motorcar approaching with, to her eyes, what constituted reckless speed.
“Thank you so much but as you can see Miss Helliwell has come to collect me.” Edwina gave him a bright smile and then made a mad dash for the cherry red car. She was so glad to see it that she forgot how much Beryl’s driving terrified her.
* * *
“What have you done with the baby?” Edwina asked, looking around the motorcar and seeing only Beryl.
“I just couldn’t manage a moment longer. He was so very small and fragile looking,” Beryl said. Her hands gripped the wheel tightly and Edwina thought her voice sounded unnaturally high.
“What have you done with him, Beryl?” Edwina asked, her heart starting to hammer in her chest.
“No need to worry, Ed. He’s in good hands. I’ve left Simpkins in charge of him.”
“Simpkins?” Edwina could not believe her ears. What was it with Beryl and her gardener? “You left a helpless baby with a man who can’t be trusted on the matter of limestone and azaleas?”
“I don’t know anything about limestone or azaleas. I know even less about babies. I think it is very narrow-minded of you, Ed, to assume I was a better candidate for the job of child minder than Simpkins just because I am a woman. He did well with Crumpet while we were in London.”
“A dog is not the same as a human baby. As you ought to know.”
“I’ve never even successfully cared for a fish in a bowl. Simpkins seemed a better choice.” They rode the rest of the way back to the Beeches in silence.
Chapter 35
Simpkins sat at the kitchen table with Benjy balanced on his knee, crooning a tune Edwina was horrified to realize was something more suited to a pirate ship than a nursery. Crumpet sat disloyally under the table with his chin on the toe of Simpkins’ grubby boot. Beryl also recognized the tune and began to sing along. It appeared she had recovered her good humor just as soon as the responsibility for the baby was assuredly no longer hers.
“Good as gold he was. Such a fine little fellow,” Simpkins said once he concluded his song. Edwina started to reprimand him for his choice of music when Benjy began to cry. Immediately Simpkins took up his song once more and the baby quieted.
“See,” Beryl whispered in Edwina’s ear. “Simpkins is far more suited to child care than I shall ever be.” Edwina could think of nothing whatsoever to say. She turned to the cooker and set about preparing something for tea. Edwina trusted Agnes would be along soon. Surely Norah wouldn’t let any harm befall her.
She pulled out some eggs and put them on to boil then began to slice a loaf of bread for toast soldiers when a knock sounded upon the front door. Beryl hurried to answer it and in a moment Agnes appeared with Michael a step behind her.
“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve invited Michael round to join us. He has something he wants to tell you about the night Polly died,” Agnes said. She turned to Michael. “Isn’t that right?” Edwina realized she was holding her breath. Michael nodded and she slowly released it.
“Would you and the baby like to take a turn round the garden with me while they talk?” Simpkins asked. “I shouldn’t be at all surprised to find a few late quinces to pick if we’re lucky.” Agnes gave Michael’s arm a reassuring squeeze then followed Simpkins out the back door. Crumpet looked from his mistress to the garden. She nodded at him and he followed Simpkins and Agnes. Edwina hoped Crumpet was feeling a sudden attachment to the baby. She wasn’t sure what she would do if her dog developed an appreciation for the gardener’s company.
Beryl and Michael sat at the table and Edwina wiped her hands on her apron and joined them.
“Agnes convinced me to tell you what I know about Polly. She said it wasn’t right to let my instincts as a soldier cloud my judgment back home in Walmsley Parva.”
“Very sensible of her to suggest,” Edwina said.
“It’s very big of you to do so,” Beryl said. “It isn’t an easy thing to stop soldiering.” Michael nodded and cleared his throat.
“I just can’t believe he had anything to do with what happened to Polly, no matter how it may seem,” he said. “Walter Bennett hired me to drive Polly home from the cinema on the nights she attended the late show. He was worried about her getting all the way back to her mum’s place in the cold now that the weather has turned.”
Edwina and Beryl exchanged a look. It would not do any good to tell Michael that his sister had already told them about Walter hiring him. It was far better to let him tell them all he could.
“That’s very thoughtful of him. So y
ou took her home at his request the night she died?” Beryl asked.
“I picked her up like I usually did. She would come out the back of the building since she didn’t want Mr. Mumford to see her. He wouldn’t have liked her getting in to see the film for free if she didn’t feel she owed him directly for the privilege.”
“Not a very savory character that Mr. Mumford, is he?” Beryl said. “But you spirited her away and got her safely home?”
“No. That’s just it. I didn’t take her home.” Michael exhaled deeply. “She asked me to take her to Walter’s house instead. She said she had a surprise for him and that she wanted me to keep it a secret.”
“Did you see her go into Walter’s house?” Edwina asked.
“I walked her to the door and made sure she got inside. She smiled and waved at me through the window when I left her.”
“And that’s the last you saw of her?” Edwina asked.
“The very last. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to bring down any trouble on Walter’s head. God knows the man’s suffered enough,” Michael said. “And I didn’t want to damage Polly’s reputation. It would only hurt her mum to hear that her daughter was out visiting a man’s house so late at night like that. People have nasty minds, don’t they, and no one would likely believe she wasn’t there for some scandalous purpose.”
“I’m sorry to say that I’m sure you’re right,” Edwina said. “Gossips would have made quite a meal of that bit of news.”
“Have you spoken with Walter since he asked you to take Polly home on the night she died?” Beryl asked.
“No. I was going to try when I caught sight of him at the funeral this afternoon but he slipped away before I could reach him. When I saw Agnes all other thoughts disappeared,” Michael said. “I didn’t hurt her. Polly I mean. And I’ve apologized to Agnes for frightening her. I wasn’t at all well when she was in the village. I know that now.” Michael stood to go.
“I’m sure she appreciated that. Are you going to say good-bye?”
“I think I’ll head out before she knows I’ve gone. I’m not much of one for good-byes.” Michael shrugged and headed down the hall and out the front door without another word.
“As much as I’d like to think it would, I’m not sure that his explanation gets Michael off the hook,” Edwina said. “He can’t prove that he left her safely at Walter Bennett’s cottage. We only have his word for it.”
“There’s also the matter of how she ended up in the field on the Wallingford Estate. Where does Walter Bennett live?” Beryl asked.
“He lives in a small laborer’s cottage at the edge of the Wallingford Estate.”
“This whole situation keeps circling back to the same place. Is Walter Bennett’s cottage near Norman’s? Is it near where her body was found?”
“No. It is like Norman’s but is on the other side of the estate. It’s closer to the centre of the village.”
“I think the next thing we should do is to speak with Walter Bennett. We need to know what he has to say about Polly being at his cottage.”
“We should go in the morning I think. This isn’t a matter to discuss at the cinema and he is sure to be at work by now.”
“I agree. I think we should take a look round the cottage to see if there is any evidence that Polly was ever there. If she was, that may prove Michael is telling the truth.”
“And it may also prove that Walter Bennett is a guilty man.”
Chapter 36
“Are you ready?” Beryl looked over at Edwina.
“We have to see it through,” Edwina said. She opened the motorcar door and stepped out into the cool air. Walter Bennett’s cottage stood alone at the edge of a field. A low stone wall separated it from the lane in front of it. A wooden gate shaded by an arched trellis weighted down by the bare branches of a gnarled wisteria creaked loudly when Beryl pushed it open.
They walked up the stone path to the cheerful blue door and Edwina knocked upon it with a gloved hand. When no one responded Beryl stepped forward and gave it a louder rap. From behind the door came the sound of feet and then Walter Bennett stood before them. His hand held the side of his tin mask as if he were checking to be sure it was properly in place. Beryl found herself wondering if he seldom wore it when alone in his home. She imagined that it must be uncomfortable and it would be a relief to leave it off from time to time.
“Sorry to come by so early, Mr. Bennett, but we needed to speak with you rather urgently. Some new information about Polly Watkins’ death has come to light and we wanted to ask you about it,” Beryl said. “May we come in?”
“The place is a tip. It isn’t fit for the likes of you two,” Walter said.
“I’ve traveled in tramp steamers across the Pacific down amongst the bilge pumps and the water rats. Edwina suffers almost constantly from the untidiness of her jobbing gardener. I expect your home holds no terrors for us.” Beryl gave him a bright smile and took a determined step forward. Walter stepped backwards and gestured for them to go on through to the sitting room.
They entered a dusty, shadowy low-ceilinged room at the front of the house. Beryl sat down in an upholstered chair next to the small brick fireplace. Edwina took a place on a stiff sofa facing the windows onto the street. Beryl thought there was something pleasant about the arrangement to the room despite the surface layer of dust. A silver candlestick graced the center of the small wooden table Beryl imagined served as a pleasant place for a meal. Two needlepoint pillows brightened up the sofa. Framed watercolor prints of landscapes hung on the walls and floral curtains suspended at the sides of the windows.
“May I offer you some tea?” Walter asked.
“That would be very kind. I don’t know about Miss Davenport but I never refuse the offer of a cup of tea,” Beryl said. She tipped her head significantly at Edwina hoping she would be understood.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennett. I would be delighted to have some,” Edwina said. As soon as he left the room both women got to their feet and began searching the room for signs of Polly. Beryl headed straight for the bookcases.
“I doubt very much you’ll find evidence of Polly there. She wasn’t much of a reader,” Edwina said.
“Mr. Bennett is though, isn’t he?” Beryl said.
“So it would seem. If you were Polly, what would you do if you wanted to surprise Mr. Bennett? Would you wander around the room? Would you perch quietly on that chair there?” Edwina asked.
“I think she would want to be on the lookout for him coming up the walkway. If I were her I would have sat on the sofa and faced the windows. If there was as much moonlight beaming down as there was on the night we found her she would have been able to see him coming up the walk.” Beryl sat on the edge of the sofa and squinted. “I think she would have been here. Although I must say this isn’t the most comfortable spot.” She reached into the crack between cushions and pulled out a length of fabric.
“That’s Polly’s wrap,” Edwina said. “I remember seeing her wearing it when we saw her near the cinema.” She turned to the door at the sound of Walter Bennett’s footsteps. Beryl stuffed it under the needlepoint pillow sitting next to her on the sofa. Walter Bennett carried two heavy ceramic mugs, which he handed to each woman in turn. Edwina carried hers to the sofa and sat beside Beryl. She suddenly felt a great need to have a friend at hand.
“I don’t want to seem unfriendly but what is this information about Polly that’s brought you out so early in the day?”
“We are sorry, Mr. Bennett. I’m sure it doesn’t seem as early to us as it does to you. We should have considered the late hours you keep. However, we would not have bothered you if it weren’t urgent,” Edwina said.
“We’ve been told that you hired Michael Blackburn to drive Polly to her house after she spent the evening at the cinema with you. We understand that this was a common occurrence and not at all the situation you led me to believe when I asked you before how well you knew her.”
“Is there
any crime in being a gentleman?” Mr. Bennett asked.
“Certainly not,” Edwina said. “But considering Polly was murdered, and we know she was much more well-known to you than you have admitted, it would be wise of you to be a bit more forthcoming about your relationship with her.”
Truly it was disconcerting to interview Mr. Bennett. His facial expression never changed because of the mask. Beryl wondered if Edwina was finding it as difficult to gauge his reaction to questions as she did.
“Michael and his sister, Norah, claim you paid to have Polly driven home from the cinema at least three evenings each week. People might make a lot of that information if it were to get out and I can’t imagine any of it will do her character credit. Somehow I don’t think that is what you want for her memory,” Beryl said.
Mr. Bennett lowered himself carefully into the side chair near the fireplace. “No, of course it isn’t.”
“We have something else to ask you about. Michael told us that he didn’t drive Polly to her house the night that she died,” Beryl said.
“Where the devil did he take her then?” Mr. Bennett gripped his knees with both hands.
“He says he dropped her off here. He says she asked him to do so because she wanted to surprise you. Can you think of any reason for her to do that?” Edwina asked.
Walter sank against the back of the chair. His posture telegraphed abject misery. Beryl watched as Walter pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. He dabbed at his chin with it as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. “We are so sorry for the loss of your friend,” Beryl said.
“She was more than my friend. The night she died she had agreed to be my wife,” he said. “If you can imagine that. Me, a man reduced to hiding away in a dark room and avoiding all contact with the outside world, managed to get a sweet, lovely girl like Polly to accept me as her husband.”
Murder in an English Village Page 23