‘And why,’ said Juliet, ‘did he select Pals?’
Niven closed his eyes for a while, before meeting Juliet’s gaze. ‘He wanted to have people with him who didn’t know him. He didn’t want to fight. On the night of the operation, he went forward with the men but for every yard they covered, he fell back one. He realised, of course, that he’d backed himself into a corner. One of the group challenged him; told him to fight with the rest of them but he didn’t. He scrambled under cover.’
James asked for permission to smoke and lit up. ‘One man died.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And Private Franks?’
Major Short struggled to make eye contact with James. ‘Franks was already showing signs of shell-shock and..’
‘He threatened to expose William Carlton for what he was.’
The Major nodded. ‘How he found the strength to shoot him, I don’t know.’
Juliet baulked. ‘My dear, Carlton wouldn’t have done. He would have ordered a firing squad to carry out his dirty work.’
‘Yes, of course.’ The Major’s shoulders dropped.
James pushed again. ‘And Arthur Strong?’
Niven explained that he’d heard he’d been shot. ‘Found dead the day after the operation.’
‘Our understanding is that Arthur Strong made the same threat as Archibald Franks.’
‘That’s correct.’
‘And that left the last of the four Pals, Peter Shotover.’
James realised that the Major was saying less and less. Reliving this episode was becoming uncomfortable and difficult for the man, so he decided to outline his thoughts. Major Short was bound to put him right if his version of events was wrong. ‘Peter Shotover was suffering from shell-shock. No one believed anything he said. He was deemed to be unfit and, at the time, of unsound mind. But he remembers what happened. He wrote a diary and documented what had happened during that mission. He was tormented by it. So much so that he committed suicide.’
The Major fidgeted.
‘Major Carlton,’ James continued, ‘has received anonymous letters that accuse him of cowardice. Someone, recently, has read those diaries and is taking revenge.’
Major Short’s swirled the whisky in the tumbler. Juliet slammed the table with the palm of her hand. Short flinched.
‘And still you do nothing!’ she cried. ‘Why on earth did you sign a commendation? A commendation written by Carlton himself?’
‘He was just a boy. He shouldn’t have been there. I felt sorry for him.’
James sighed. ‘But why not let the whole thing slide into history instead of making him out to be something he’s not?’
‘I thought it would give him confidence. It would make his father proud.’
Juliet huffed. ‘Oh, for goodness sake!’
The Major’s face turned red. ‘He turned into a bloody good officer. Once he was off the field, he came into his own.’
‘Because it’s easy to be an officer when you’re sitting at a desk, detached from the real world. So he went all the way to the top and didn’t lift a rifle again. He lived on a lie and began to believe it himself, pompous oaf.’
‘I did what I thought was right at the time and there isn’t a day goes by where I don’t regret it.’ His eyes blazed at Juliet. ‘It’s not easy fighting a war.’
James put an arm across to stop Juliet from leaping up. ‘Major Short, you’re speaking to a lady who has worked undercover in Germany during the two wars, right under the noses of high-ranking officers. I would be careful with your allegations.’
Major Short flopped back in his seat. ‘I’m sorry. I’m more angry with myself than with anyone else.’
‘Presumably Major Carlton came here to hide from his attacker.’
Niven explained that he’d pitched up on the doorstep a few days previously. ‘He told me about the letters he’d received.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t understand it, though. Will is adamant no one but Shotover knew what happened. When the man killed himself, Will relaxed – thought it wouldn’t haunt him. It was years ago. But then those accusations came, along with those ghastly feathers.’
‘Shotover may have died, Major Short, but the diaries remained. There is a family member out there wanting revenge.’
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘I heard the son committed suicide too.’
‘Peter Shotover’s son? When?’
‘I don’t know. A few years ago. He left a wife and daughter.’
Good grief, James thought, a woman is responsible for this. Juliet slapped the table to attract the Major’s attention.
‘Do you know Olivia Dupree?’
‘The singer?’ He considered. ‘Well, not personally, no. I’ve heard her sing, of course, but that’s about it.’ He stared at James. ‘Why are you asking about her?’
‘Because the week before all this happened to the Carltons, Olivia Dupree was poisoned in the same manner as John Carlton.’
‘A mistake?’
‘Impossible, old chap. The Carltons weren’t there that evening. We’re trying to establish a link.’
‘I can’t help you there, I’m afraid. Will’s never mentioned the woman except to say she was singing that evening at your place.’
‘Why did he leave here? Has he gone home?’
‘I’m not sure. He received a letter and he said he had to leave.’
‘A letter? Did you read it?’
Niven explained that Will wouldn’t let him read it. It had been posted through the letter box by hand. ‘He paled a little and said he needed to help John arrange the funeral. It all sounded above board so he went. He hadn’t brought much with him.’
‘No, he left most of his clothes at Harrington’s.’ James pushed himself up from his chair and helped Juliet to her feet. ‘I think you’ve told us everything we need to know. Thank you for your time.’
As Major Short opened the front door, he appeared like a man defeated. ‘I’m pleased to have told someone. I understand if you have to report me to the authorities.’
‘I think you can see now how signing that document and covering for your friend has escalated. Lives have been lost. I would suggest you contact the authorities yourself.’ He provided him with George’s details and left the decision to him.
On the drive back to Cavendish, James asked Juliet if she thought Niven Short would telephone George. She gazed through the windshield at the snow-covered branches.
‘I believe he will telephone George and the Regiment. He’s from a military family. Hopefully, he’ll do the right thing now.’
‘But who the hell is Shotover? That name hasn’t cropped up until today.’
‘Then we need to find out. Shotover left a son with a wife and daughter. The son is dead. We’re looking for a woman and that narrows it down to three: Mandy, Enid and Olivia. Perhaps Olivia poisoned herself to avoid suspicion.’
James manoeuvred the car through the country lanes and arrived home around an hour later. Stephen’s little Austin was parked by the front steps. Beth rushed out to meet them.
‘At last! We’ve been trying to reach you for hours!’
As they took their coats off, James apologised and explained that they’d much to tell. Harry came out and helped Juliet with her coat.
‘Come in and tell us. I think you’ll also want to hear what Stephen and Anne have to say.’
They stepped into the lounge. George made to stand but James insisted he stay comfortable. His friend had more colour in his cheeks than on the previous day. Stephen opened his mouth to speak but Anne was so animated she couldn’t help but go ahead of him.
‘We went to visit John today and had a wander through the village. Stephen happened to pop into the post office to buy some stamps and got chatting with the postmistress. She’s a bit of a gossip and asked what we were doing here and Stephen explained who we were visiting and mentioned that the house was big and a little out of the way.’ She paused for breath. ‘Well, she didn’t have anything nice
to say about William Carlton; thought he was stuck up and full of himself. Never mixed with anyone.’
Juliet clicked her tongue. ‘I told you, James: pompous oaf.’
James grinned and sat down opposite his friends. ‘Anne, you’re clearly excited about something but how about scooting ahead and letting us know what that is?’
‘Oh. Sorry. Yes. Stephen, you tell him. It’s your news - I’m hogging the limelight.’
Stephen rolled his eyes. ‘I-I kept her speaking about the M-Major and she commented that I-I was taking an unusual interest. Then she said someone else had b-been asking about him over the previous months.’
James frowned.
‘You’ll never guess,’ said Anne. She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry!
‘E-Enid Carmichael.’
James stared at Stephen. ‘The wet weekend? Enid Carmichael?’
‘Dad, you don’t have to be a weightlifter to poison someone.’
‘And,’ Beth put in, ‘they say that poison is a woman’s modus operandi.’
He turned his attention to George. ‘What do you make of this?’
His friend added that he had called the postmistress and had quite a chat with her. ‘She’d apparently seen Enid now and again over the last year or eighteen months. Popping in to the village for a cup of tea. She said that she and her chap were thinking of moving there so were getting familiar with the area.’
‘It’s no wonder she knew Carlton’s every move. She must have stalked him; sat next to his wife at coffee mornings; probably chatted with her in the newsagents. Quite disturbing.’
‘Well, I’ve let Inspector Collins know so he’s sending a constable down to get a statement.’
The telephone rang. Harry stepped into the hall to answer it. Two minutes later he returned. ‘That was Collins.’
‘H-has he arrested E-Enid?’
‘Unfortunately not. She appears to have done a runner.’
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
‘But none of this makes sense,’ said James. ‘Enid’s family are in Devon; didn’t you check that, George? Isn’t her father still alive?’
He nodded but reminded James that the grand-dad fought for the Sussex Regiment. ‘We’ll have to find her. It’s too suspicious that she’s stalking Carlton and now she’s gone missing. People lie and she’s deceived all of us.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s getting late. Don’t you have a rehearsal to get to?’
James scratched his head. He’d been certain he was getting better at judging characters and Enid Carmichael didn’t come across as a cold-blooded killer. But then neither did Mandy or Olivia. Oh, they had their annoying quirks but that was about it. Did Enid lie about the chap she was walking out with? He was Devonshire too. All of this was easy to check. Surely she wouldn’t have left herself so open by lying about all of this. Yes, she’d had an opportunity to poison Olivia Dupree and the Carltons but he simply couldn’t envisage it. But perhaps that’s what had made her slip his mind. The quiet ones attract little attention. He snapped out of his thoughts. ‘George, I think you need to hear what we’ve discovered.’
‘Tell me on the way to the village hall.’
Juliet travelled with the Merryweathers and updated them on the day’s events. James did the same for Beth, Harry and George. At the hall, both he and Juliet were met with concern and disbelief. James insisted that he had no more to tell them and it would be impossible to answer questions without making assumptions. He held the door to the village hall open. As Anne passed him, she tried to query something but James held a finger to his lips to indicate no.
George jotted down a few notes and said he’d follow them in as he wanted to update Collins on James’ news. James gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
‘Good luck with that, George. You’ll probably have strict orders to arrest me for poking my nose in. But he really needs to be finding out about this name, Shotover. If he can link Enid to that name, he has his proof.’
Inside, the Snoop Sisters busied themselves making teas and coffees. Elsie Taylor opened a huge tin of scones and fairy cakes and arranged them on a china platter. Harry delivered a selection of mince pies that Beth had baked earlier to Grandma Harrington’s traditional recipe.
Dorothy Forbes led from the front and instructed her players to take their positions. Little groups of villagers huddled in various parts of the hall, going through their scenes. Graham Porter, Charlie Hawkins and Philip Jackson hammered scenery into place while their wives rehearsed in front of them. Children raced around the hall playing tag.
Beth joined Dorothy; Anne skipped across to sit with the ladies making last-minute adjustments to the costumes and Juliet and Stephen discussed the Yule Log and Christmas services.
Bert slapped James on the back. ‘Oi, oi.’
He swung round. ‘Bert, where the devil have you been? You’ve been conspicuous by your absence.’
‘Christmas innit? I told you I wouldn’t be about much. I’ve ’ad a few orders for stuff.’
Harry laughed. ‘I’ll bet you have. What’s on everyone’s list this year?’
‘What I can get me ’ands on and I’ve a few things left. Wagon Train annuals, Pelham puppets, Corgi cars, Space Patrol walkie-talkies, skipping ropes; er..Enid Blyton books and some Ponds beauty kits and portable record players. That’s about it.’
‘Don’t let DCI Lane hear you.’
Bert scanned the room. ‘He’s not ’ere, is he?’
James smiled. ‘He’s just through those doors, making a phone call. And what’s that under your arm?’
Bert relieved himself of the box and placed it under the WI table. ‘I know you don’t like dealing with me in this way but I got my hands on the Meccano set you wanted to get Luke and Mark.’
James picked the box up and gave it to Harry along with his car keys and instructions to put the box in the boot of the Jaguar. He fished out his wallet and paid Bert.
‘I’m grateful, Bert, but I feel terribly guilty for purchasing goods like this.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Selfridges and ’arrods ain’t gonna go out of business because I’m selling a few knocked off toys. Listen, I’ve got someone you may wanna chat to about Major Carlton.’
James picked up his cup and saucer. ‘Oh?’
‘Eddie Simmonds.’
‘Our Pals Eddie Simmonds?’
‘That’s right. Put yer tea down, he’s just outside.’
‘Well bring him in here, it’s ruddy freezing outside.’
Bert pursed his lips and marched through the wooden double doors at the back and dragged Eddie in. In his fifties, Eddie was the younger and quieter of the two Simmonds brothers. He’d enjoyed the dinner and had danced with several ladies during the evening, leaving with his fellow Pals around eleven o’clock. James remembered Eddie’s attitude to Major Carlton on the evening of Cynthia’s death. He certainly had no time for the officer; that much was obvious. Eddie held out his hand.
‘Evening, Lord Harrington. Thanks for seeing me.’ He surveyed the hall and waved a quick hello to several villagers. ‘I’ve booked tickets for this. Bringing my little grandson. He’s five.’
‘Good show. Just the right age for a pantomime – is the whole family coming?’
‘Just me and the grandson. He’s latched onto me at the moment and he didn’t want anyone to come except me.’ He tutted. ‘Hope he doesn’t change his mind at the last minute.’
James assured him they’d be able to squeeze his son and daughter-in-law in should the need arise. He steered Eddie to a quieter area. Bert nipped over to deliver a couple of annuals to Helen Jackson.
‘So, Eddie, you have some information for me.’
‘We weren’t straight with you when we saw you, Lord Harrington.’
‘We?’
‘Me and Billy. The others don’t know anything but Billy said we can’t not say anything, ’specially with what’s been happening.’
James put his hands in his pockets and waited. It was no us
e pushing him. Eddie was struggling with his conscience and wanted to do this in his own time. After a few seconds he pulled his shoulders back and looked James in the eye.
‘We knew Adam’s grandfather, Archibald Franks. He was one of us and he wasn’t a coward. He was ill. The shelling, the gunfire, the gas, it got to him. He’d been fighting with the rest of us but there was some heavy bombing close to him over a few weeks and he changed. He went from being someone we looked up to, to a jabbering wreck.’
‘You’ve no need to explain,’ said James. ‘I discovered what happened. He should have received medical help.’
Eddie blinked back the tears. ‘But there’s something you don’t know.’ Eddie motioned for him to move further from the crowds. He scanned the room before lowering his voice. ‘Billy and me were in the firing squad.’
James’s jaw dropped. Words failed him. Eddie stared at his feet to compose himself and slowly returned his attention to him.
‘There was ten of us. Five rifles had bullets, five had blanks so we don’t know who actually killed ’im. It’s supposed to make us feel better about it but how can you? How can you feel better about something like that? Archie was one of us. He played in our football team; he was our bowler in the cricket team.’
‘Were you aware who ordered the firing squad?’
He shifted on his feet. ‘No. We had an inkling. It happened straight after a mission he’d been sent on. Then another one of ’em got shot. Arthur Strong. He played cricket for Loxfield. I didn’t know him well but he was one of us; one of the Pals.’
‘Firing squad?’
‘No. They found him face down in a ditch. They called it accidental but it was straight after that mission.’
‘Do you know what the mission was?’
‘No idea. The boys were hand-picked. But we know who picked ’em.’ Eddie stared at James. ‘Captain William Carlton.’
‘Did you hear any rumours about Captain Carlton?’
‘Not at the time, no. When we got home we wanted to forget it. We didn’t speak about it for years. Me and Billy didn’t even discuss it on our own. We couldn’t face the Franks family. To this day, they don’t know me and Billy were in the squad. I couldn’t live with myself if they knew.’ He grabbed James’ arm. ‘You won’t tell ’em will you?’
Lord James Harrington and the Christmas Mystery Page 19