Murder in an English Village

by Jessica Ellicott

  “Shall we go along?” Agnes asked. “I think Benjy will need his nap before it gets much later.” Beryl pulled back onto the lane and faithfully followed Agnes’ instructions for the remainder of the journey, winding back up once more at the Wallingford Estate.

  “So that’s it?” Beryl asked. “That’s everywhere you went on deliveries?”

  “Yes. There were no additions or subtractions while I drove the milk float. I’ve shown you everything. At least as I remember it.”

  The three of them drove back to the Beeches lost in thought. From the lack of speed to her driving Edwina thought Beryl seemed dispirited by their outing. She was disappointed too as it happened. The case seemed to have dangling threads but none of them unraveled a thing once they were tugged upon. Beryl stopped the motorcar in its accustomed place in front of the house and sat there simply staring ahead. Agnes and Benjy clambered out noisily but Beryl slid out from behind the wheel, lost in thought.

  Edwina considered asking her what was on her mind but held her tongue and hurried into the house after their guests. She was surprised to realize she was quite looking forward to preparing yet another meal for more than just herself. It certainly had been an extraordinary week. If anyone had asked her only a few days before what she thought the chances of having three more people staying under her roof as well as having developed a reputation as an intrepid sleuth she would have thought they had gone completely round the bend.

  So caught up was she in the pleasures of the little domestic tasks hostessing involved that she had completely failed to notice how quiet Beryl had become. In fact, her usually exuberant friend had not said more than a few words since they returned from the Wallingford Estate. Beryl’s change in demeanor finally occurred to her when she sought her out to call her to tea and came upon her sitting in the library just staring at the desk where Edwina had been attacked.

  “What is it, Beryl? Is something wrong?” Edwina asked

  “I’ve been mulling.”

  “Thinking over stray threads in the case?”

  “Exactly. It has been quite a day for information and I can’t help but feel we should be further along by now with our investigation.”

  “I know it isn’t really your way but some things take patience, you know. I shouldn’t wonder if investigating crimes was one of them.”

  “I don’t feel impatient. I feel frustrated and as if all the bits were almost there but then nothing is there at all. I feel completely muddled and I have no idea what’s next.”

  “Well, despite the reputation you so ingeniously developed for us, we aren’t in fact experienced at all in the field of detecting. I think we’ve done quite well.”

  “You do?” Beryl turned towards her, a bit of brightening in her manner.

  “Indeed I do. Just think of all the people we’ve pestered and the questions we’ve asked.”

  “But we’re at a standstill. I have no idea what to do next. Walter Bennett may or may not have killed Polly. We only have his word for it that they were engaged to be married. Norman says he was trying to win her back but there is no proof of that either. Michael was seen with her in his cab and she was never seen again. And we haven’t any way to really know if any of them can be absolutely ruled in or absolutely ruled out as suspects.”

  “We just need to keep asking the right questions. You’ll see. We’ll get back at it tomorrow first thing.”

  “But where would we start? We don’t have any more lines of enquiry suggesting themselves.”

  “Nonsense. I know exactly what we shall do next.”

  “What’s that?” Beryl asked.

  “Even though I’d prefer never to see him again after his comments about my mental state, I am afraid I’ll need to see the doctor. Why don’t you ring his office tomorrow morning and do your utmost to convince the doctor to pay a call on us as soon as he can in order to take a look at my head.”

  “What shall I say?” Beryl asked. “You’ve spent the past couple of days running all about the village convincing everyone that you are in fine fettle.”

  “You can tell Nurse Crenshaw my appetite is poor and you are concerned by the way I keep asking about my dead mother. That ought to do the trick I think,” Edwina said.

  “And why should we want to do that?” Beryl asked. ‘You aren’t actually feeling unwell, are you?”

  “Never been better. At least, not in ages. While he is here we will find a way to ask him about treating Walter Bennett. Who knows where that will lead us and how quickly.”

  “That’s what has been bothering me since we were at Mr. Bennett’s cottage,” Beryl said. She jumped from her seat and began pacing the room. “How did Hortense get there so quickly?”

  “How did she get where? The spot where she intercepted Agnes?”

  “Yes. How did she arrive so quickly? If Agnes was driving the horse and cart, how could Hortense have overtaken her so quickly?” Beryl asked. “Agnes mentioned how much longer it took to get between delivery points with old Joe than it did today using the car.”

  “What if Hortense drove out in the farm truck?” Edwina asked. “She must have known how to drive it. She told me herself she used it for the milk deliveries after Agnes left.”

  “But surely Agnes would have heard her arriving in a vehicle. She wouldn’t have been surprised by that.”

  “No, I suppose you’re right about that.” Edwina thought for a moment. “I know, she cut through fields like we did the night we found Polly. You only need to stick to the roads if you are using a vehicle or pulling a cart like Agnes was doing.”

  “Would that shave off much time, do you think?” Beryl asked.

  “It would cut it down by half, at least. She could easily have managed to get there much more quickly on foot than by the road.”

  “I suppose that explains it.”

  “You don’t seem satisfied, Beryl. What is it?”

  “I don’t like coincidences. We know Polly was at Walter Bennett’s cottage the night she died. Now Agnes brings us back to that very spot. I don’t like it at all.”

  “Coincidences do happen though. You wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for the simple coincidence that you happened to need a place to stay at the very same time I was looking for a lodger. I know you are eager to make some sort of progress but it’s no good making something nefarious out of something so easily explained.”

  “I suppose you make a good point. Maybe I am getting worked up over nothing,” Beryl said. She gave a deep sign and then shrugged. “Shall we go in and join the others for tea?” Beryl asked.

  “Do let’s. I’ll have the tea. We’ll find you a large tot of gin instead.”

  Chapter 38

  Dr. Nelson was even more obliging than Beryl hoped he would be. After her last encounter with him she had wondered if he would dismiss her concerns as the ravings of a withered-up old spinster. Despite her misgivings, no sooner had Nurse Crenshaw alerted the doctor to the nature of her call than he agreed to attend Edwina as quickly as he was able. That very morning, in fact. Beryl had been quite surprised at how quickly he had arrived. She wondered if he might in fact require medical attention himself as his face was pale and it was clear from the circles under his eyes that sleep had eluded him the night before.

  Beryl couldn’t be sure but she very much suspected the poor fellow was suffering from an evening of excess drink. She considered recommending a remedy a pilot she knew during the war had sworn was infallible, but she found she had forgotten the secret ingredient. Beryl never suffered from overimbibing. She prided herself that her constitution was uniquely suited for indulging in vices of all sorts. As she led him up the front stairs she noticed his attention seemed to be elsewhere and that he kept looking around as if searching for someone.

  Edwina really did look quite convincing tucked up beneath the counterpane dressed in a gently frayed bed jacket and a lace-trimmed nightcap. Crumpet sat at attention in his basket at the corner of the bed. Edwina’s hands clutched
loosely at the coverlet and her eyes remained determinedly shut even after Beryl and the doctor entered her bedroom. Beryl solemnly approached the bedside and took Edwina’s small hand in her large one.

  “Dr. Nelson is here, Ed. He’d like to examine you.” Edwina barely creaked one eye open and nodded at the doctor with the smallest of motions.

  “I understand you are still feeling poorly in your head,” Dr. Nelson said, lifting her wrist and feeling for her pulse. Beryl noticed Edwina’s second eye open ever so slightly. She was definitely giving the doctor an unpleasant look. The poor man didn’t even seem to realize it. Questioning him wasn’t likely to go very well if Edwina decided to take the lead.

  “I believe I overheard you mentioning that same opinion to Miss Helliwell the last time you were here.” Edwina had gotten up on her high horse and kicked it into a canter. Beryl hoped her attitude wouldn’t derail their investigatory efforts. “I do wish you’d think of a better diagnosis than that my mind had been unbalanced because I have never married.” Beryl noticed Edwina’s ire had brought a bit of color to Dr. Nelson’s pale complexion. Perhaps she was more what he needed than the other way round.

  “What I meant was that Miss Helliwell told my nurse when she rang was that you were experiencing headaches and double vision. I believe that is due to the injury you sustained. I’ll just take a look at the wound, shall I?”

  Just as he bent over her, Benjy toddled in through the open door and made straight for Crumpet’s basket. The dog bounded out and ran about the room, stopping every foot or so to coax the child to give chase. The boy lurched after him squealing. He pulled Crumpet’s tail and the little dog dove under the high bed. Dr. Nelson looked down and lifted the boy into his arms. Beryl watched as the doctor’s eyes filled with unshed tears.

  “Are you in here, Benjy?” Agnes said from the doorway. She stopped and a startled gasp left her lips as she saw her son in the doctor’s arms. Beryl felt a sadness envelop her as she realized one small part of the mystery was solved. Agnes recovered herself and she hurried across the room with her arms outstretched. She lifted her chin and looked straight at Dr. Nelson. “Come to Mummy, you silly little boy.” Benjy squirmed away from the doctor who seemed reluctant to release him. Without a backwards glance Agnes strode out of the room.

  Beryl and Edwina exchanged a glance. Edwina inclined her head towards the door and Beryl hurried over and pressed it firmly into place. Beryl slid a chair from near the window next to the bed and patted the back of it. “Here, Doctor. You’d best sit down before you keel over.” She waited until he had sunk safely into the chair then sat on the edge of Edwina’s bed.

  “Does Mrs. Nelson know about the boy?” Edwina asked, all irritation with the doctor evaporated in the face of his obvious distress.

  “Was it that obvious?” Dr. Nelson asked, passing a hand over his forehead.

  “Only to anyone with at least one good eye,” Beryl said. “Between your reaction to the baby and Agnes’ attitude towards you, there wasn’t any doubt.”

  “Mrs. Nelson doesn’t know about any of it. And I have no intention that she ever shall. Although, even if I told her, I’m not sure how much of it she would take in. She’s not been herself since our Alan passed from the influenza.”

  “That flu outbreak touched so many in the village. We were speaking with Walter Bennett about it just yesterday. He said you treated him, too,” Edwina said. Something about the doctor’s demeanor shifted as soon as he heard Mr. Bennett’s name, a sort of rigid set came over his shoulders, and a guardedness crept onto his face. Gone was the man with his heart on his sleeve. Beryl watched him closely for a signal as to why that should be. Doctors treat patients every day. Certainly Mr. Bennett had an extraordinary medical history considering his facial injuries but those occurred before he arrived in Walmsley Parva surely.

  “Did he? There were so many at the time one patient sort of blurs together with the rest.”

  “He said you were the reason he survived the illness. Not that he appreciates it much now. The man is entirely engulfed in his grief over Polly and he told us he wished he had died before he met her.”

  “The ungrateful bastard.” Dr. Nelson shifted to the edge of the chair. “He has no idea what we sacrificed when I agreed to treat him. He was the first case of influenza we had seen in Walmsley Parva in that second, far more virulent wave. As far as I could discover, he’s the one who brought it to the village.”

  Beryl looked at Edwina. She felt quite certain they were closing in on something that had eluded them. Dr. Nelson was thoroughly distressed. She held her tongue and with an encouraging waggle of her perfectly plucked eyebrows, indicated that Edwina should take the lead. After all, Edwina knew far more than she did about the history of the village.

  “What a terrible burden for you to carry, knowing the point of origin of the illness. How very noble of you never to have pointed the finger of blame at the unfortunate Mr. Bennett,” Edwina said. Dr. Nelson cast his eyes towards his lap and Beryl wondered if he was already regretting having done just that. After all, wasn’t it a doctor’s responsibility to guard the secrets of his patients? Edwina spoke again, even more gently. “When you said you had sacrificed so much did you mean that your exposure to the influenza by treating Mr. Bennett brought the contagion into your own home? To your Alan?” Dr. Nelson nodded wordlessly.

  “I don’t even think any of my efforts on his behalf saved him. From all we now know it seemed to just be a matter of chance who lived and who died once a person fell ill,” Dr. Bennett said.

  “How old was your son when he became ill?” Beryl asked.

  “Just about the age Benjy is now.” Dr. Nelson slumped even farther. “I shall never forgive myself for what happened to him. If I hadn’t been so cowardly maybe Alan would still be alive.”

  “You don’t seem like a cowardly man, Doctor. I think it very brave to tend to someone with influenza,” Beryl said.

  “I was a coward and an adulterer. If God had not thought me so he might not have punished me by taking Alan from us. If only I had the courage to confess my infidelity to my wife I would have left that wretched woman to tend him on her own.”

  “Which woman was that, Doctor?” Edwina asked. “It wasn’t Polly, was it?”

  “No. He hadn’t met Polly then. Like I said, he had just come to town. He arrived already ill. I believe he caught it on a train or maybe even in the hospital where he had been recovering from being shelled.” Dr. Nelson looked from Edwina to Beryl. The sound of Benjy’s high-pitched chattering floated down the hall and into the room. The doctor glanced towards the door and a look of decision crossed his face. Beryl felt the tremor in her heart she always did just before taking off in a plane or jumping from a cliff and plunging into the sea. They were all toeing up to a line between before and after. “Hortense tracked me down at the hospital wing of the Wallingford Estate. She said I was urgently needed for a patient in the village with a high fever and that she would take me to him immediately. I refused, saying he could be seen by Nurse Crenshaw or someone else. I said my workload was entirely filled with the soldiers. She pulled me aside and proceeded to convince me.”

  “Nothing unbecoming of a lady, I hope?” Beryl asked.

  “If blackmail isn’t unbecoming, I don’t know what is. She told me Agnes was with child and that she knew I was the father. She said if I refused to treat him she would go to my wife and tell her everything.”

  “So you went?”

  “I told you I was a coward. I went without giving it another thought.”

  “Did it not seem strange to you that Hortense would strong-arm you on behalf of Walter Bennett?” Beryl asked.

  “My mind was not on Hortense or on Walter Bennett. It was on Agnes and a baby and the worry that my family would be ruined by a terrible indiscretion,” Dr. Nelson said. “It was only after I arrived and began to examine the patient that I realized the reason she would be so desperate to call me.”

  Edwina had pulled h
erself more and more upright throughout the course of the interview. By now she was practically leaning off the edge of the bed, hanging on the doctor’s every word. Beryl stuck out a restraining hand and asked the logical question.

  “Which was what exactly?”

  “Walter Bennett was actually Roland Tinsdale,” he said. Edwina gasped. Beryl felt decidedly left out.

  “I’m sorry but you say that as if you had just named a film star or a character from Shakespeare. Who is Roland Tinsdale?” she asked.

  “Hortense’s brother. His entire unit was reported dead. Heavy shelling if I remember correctly. Hortense received the news just before she joined the Land Army. Why do you think it’s him?” Edwina asked.

  “His mask was off when I arrived. While he had terrible damage to much of his face, there was still enough of it to show the young man he had been. I might not have pieced it together if Hortense had not been the one to ask for me. But she was and I did.”

  “Why is he using a false name? Is there some reason he is not welcomed in Walmsley Parva?” Beryl said.

  “It wasn’t that. He was always a smart young man but he was a sensitive one, too. Not that you needed to be particularly that way to feel the effects of the trenches. When I asked Hortense about it later she said that everyone in his unit except him had been killed. He managed to crawl out from under all the bodies and somehow had the fortune of being hauled off on a stretcher. When he came to in hospital someone had misidentified him as Walter Bennett. When he was sufficiently recovered he managed to sneak off and has been a deserter using another man’s name ever since.”

  “Did he really believe he would be sent back to the front?” Edwina asked.

  “Apparently so. The trauma men suffered there made many of them desperate and irrational,” he said.

  “The entire war was irrational,” Beryl said. “That poor, poor man. So he headed here to his sister but because he wasn’t really Walter Bennett no one would think to look for him here?”