The Golf, Cheese and Chess Society

by Jason Blacker

  “Good heavens,” said Lyon. “This is absolutely awful. How was she murdered?”

  “Pelagia was strangled.”

  “And the other woman?”

  Frances didn’t quite understand the fascination with the mechanism of murder so many people seemed intent on unearthing. Perhaps it was the hope that these sorts of things happened quickly. Sadly, they usually didn’t. Pelagia’s and Minnie’s deaths being prime examples. Minnie still being alive for some moments when Elmer reached her. Indeed, strangulation is not immediate either.

  “That’s not important, Percy, but we do believe the two murders are related. Having said that, we don’t believe that Sebastian or anyone else for that matter need be concerned here at Rugby School. We believe the murderer is now making his way to the coast to try for Europe.”

  “I see. What can we do then to help?” Lyon asked.

  “The best you can do is to offer Sebastian as much support as possible,” she said. “We’d also like to speak with him if you don’t mind. Tell him in person.”

  Lyon nodded.

  “Of course. Would my office be an appropriate place for that?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Lyon nodded and stood up.

  “I’ll just go and have a word with Ethel. She’ll ring up his housemaster who will know where he is. Shouldn’t take long.”

  Lyon left the office and returned just a few minutes later. Nobody said anything in that cavernous office. The mood was somber, and Frances’ mind was filled with difficult dichotomies. The lush, peaceful and tranquil grounds of Rugby School and the violent incidents she’d been privy to in the last few days. And now, worst of all, she had to tell a young man that not only did he no longer have his father, but that for the rest of his life he was going to be an orphan.

  Lyon sat back down.

  “I’ve asked Ethel to make some tea for us,” he said.

  Frances smiled.

  “Where do you think the young man might be now?” she asked, trying to fill the empty space with conversation. There was not much point for all of them dwelling on the morose mood. Lyon looked at his watch.

  “It’s Wednesday which means the First XV will be practicing for their upcoming match against Warwick. In fact,” said Lyon, turning around in his seat, “they should be coming on to the field at any moment.”

  Frances couldn’t see any activity on the fields behind Lyon, but then it was about fifty yards or more from the office to the rugby greens. But then, slowly and steadily, boys started to mill about on the side of the field with their coach. From where Frances sat, they looked like miniature figures in white tops and pants and black socks.

  “I want to let you know, Percy, that I’ll take care of any expenses that Sebastian’s scholarship doesn’t cover,” said Frances.

  “That’s a kind but unnecessary offer,” said Lyon, “he’s on a full scholarship.”

  “Well, if it should change. I want to make sure that Sebastian continues to have the opportunities he would have enjoyed otherwise.”

  Lyon smiled and nodded at Frances.

  “Does he have any other family who will take him in?” asked Frances.

  “We only know of an Aunt in Manchester, but she does seem quite fond of him and he of her. She visits during school break. She’s never married and hasn’t any children of her own. She’s not well off, but I think she manages.”

  Frances nodded.

  “I’m glad for that. At least there is some family around.”

  They sat in silence for a short while, before Ethel came into the office carrying a tray with four teacups.

  “Poor boy,” she said, after putting everything down and pouring tea for everyone. There wasn’t any cream, but Frances took hers with milk and sugar. Declan took his the same as did Percy. Alfred had his tea black.

  “Very tragic indeed,” agreed Frances.

  Ethel looked at Percy.

  “I’ve sent for him,” she said. “His housemaster thought he might be on the rugby field. I imagine it won’t be long now.”

  “Thank you, Ethel.”

  Ethel left and Frances started on her cup of tea.

  “It’s very peaceful out here,” said Frances. “You hardly seem to have been touched by the war.”

  “Yes, we’ve been very fortunate,” said Lyon. “As you can imagine, it’s important for the children to continue their education for the war will end one day and we’ll have to rebuild. We need an educated generation to achieve that.”

  “Agreed,” said Frances.

  Alfred, Declan and Percy chatted idly for a few minutes about the state of rugby in England and the recent games which were few and far between. Frances noticed a young man in his rugby uniform walking up the path from the field towards the offices. The older man with him, presumed to be his Housemaster, was pointing towards the Headmaster’s Office and the young lad glanced over. He was almost as tall as the Housemaster with tousled brown hair. He was a handsome young man.

  A few moments later the Housemaster knocked at the office door and opened it. He introduced himself and young Sebastian before departing again, suggesting that he would be available at the House if he was needed. Declan got up out of his chair.

  “Please sit down, Sebastian,” he said, offering his chair.

  Sebastian sat down. He was a likable young man with a quick smile and warm manner. He looked you in the eye when he shook your hand with a firm grip.

  “Do you know why we’re here?” asked Frances after introductions had been made.

  “No,” he said. “Mr. Foggledy only told me that the Headmaster wanted to see me in his office.”

  Sebastian sat stiffly in his chair in his clean whites.

  “I’m afraid there is no easy way for me to say this, Sebastian,” said Frances, “but I’m afraid your mother was found dead this morning near the Smalley’s farmhouse where she boarded.”

  Sebastian blinked a few times and furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

  “She’s dead?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” said Frances.

  Sebastian’s eyes got wet but he held back his tears. His breathing was tight and labored in his chest. He didn’t say anything for a while.

  “Are you sure it’s her?” he asked.

  “We are certain,” said Frances, letting Sebastian lead the conversation.

  “What happened?”

  “It appears she was strangled, murdered,” said Frances.

  Sebastian put his hands to his face and sobbed quietly to himself. His slim body shook. Frances reached out and put her hand on his back and rubbed it gently.

  “I’m so very sorry,” she said.

  Alfred had offered his handkerchief to Maisey at Bletchley Park and he didn’t carry two. Declan reached for his and offered it to the young man. He pushed it gently at his hand and Sebastian took it. He dabbed it against his eyes and took some deep breaths.

  “I told her she shouldn’t be working there anymore. I told her the work was too dangerous.”

  He dabbed at his eyes again.

  “That’s the other reason why we’re here,” said Frances. “We want to catch whoever did this to her as quickly as we can.”

  “And do you know who it is?”

  “Yes, we believe so.”

  “Who is it?”

  “We believe it’s a German spy,” said Frances.

  “Bloody krauts,” he blurted, “why can’t we have killed them all.”

  Nobody said anything to that. Sebastian was on a long leash, naturally. He was grieving.

  “I feel confident that we’ll get him,” said Frances. And she did feel confident. Especially if they were able to identify him in the photos that MI5 had.

  “We know your mother came up here to visit you recently a couple of times which was unusual. From what we understand she usually only came up a few times a year.”

  Sebastian nodded. His eyes were bloodshot
and wet, but he seemed to have composed himself.

  “She was up here on the 25th of April. That was a Saturday. Usually she comes around Easter time, and she was here then. Good Friday it was, when she came up to see me for her regular visit.”

  “Was there a special reason she was here on the 25th?” asked Frances.

  Sebastian nodded.

  “She gave me a letter and told me not to open it unless something happened to her.”

  “We’d like to see that letter if we can,” said Frances.

  “It’s in my room at the House,” he said.

  “Did she say what was in this letter?” asked Frances.

  Sebastian shook his head.

  “No, she said she was probably just being paranoid, but she wanted something, some evidence, just in case anything should happen. I told her she shouldn’t be doing this kind of work.”

  “Did you know what sort of work she was doing at Bletchley?” asked Frances.

  Sebastian nodded.

  “She was a typist and a translator,” he said. “But over Christmas she told me she’d been asked to work on a special project that was quite secret. She wouldn’t tell me any more than that. Only that it would be of great help in winning the war. I told her it wasn’t a good idea. I said she should keep to her usual work. My mother’s not a spy, she’s not a soldier, she shouldn’t have been doing anything that would get her into trouble.”

  “So you know nothing about what work she was doing?” asked Frances.

  “No, not this latest secret mission as she called it. She was quite eager to do it, and I couldn’t persuade her otherwise. She said it was just as safe as her regular work.”

  “Did she say anything else about why she was leaving you this letter?”

  “She said that the secret mission wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped and she was worried about it. Worried about whose side we were on. I told her she should pack it up. She said she couldn’t. She told me not to worry myself. Said she would take care of herself… I guess she didn’t.”

  “I want to reassure you that we don’t believe that you are in any danger,” said Frances.

  “I’ll kill him if he tries to come after me, I’ll kill them all.”

  Sebastian’s bottom lip quivered, his face was a mask of pain and distress.

  “Why did she have to die?”

  He wasn’t really asking anyone specifically but Frances felt that he deserved to know some of the truth.

  “She was working on an MI5 undercover operation. A double cross. She was giving fake documents to her superior to give to a German spy in the hopes that they might turn the spy to work for us. It didn’t quite work out like that. It seems that the spy got this man of ours to leak official documents and then the spy murdered him and your mother and another woman involved in this operation.”

  Sebastian didn’t say anything. Frances looked into her purse and pulled out a card. She handed it to him. On it was her name and telephone number.

  “I know you have an Aunt in Manchester and Headmaster Lyon will inform her of what’s happened.”

  Frances looked over at him and he nodded.

  “But if you need anything. Anything at all, Sebastian. Now, or even five years from now. Please call me. I’ll always be happy to help. Your mother is a hero, Sebastian. It’s important you know that. She died in service to her country during a time of war. She was doing important work.”

  Sebastian looked at her and his eyes welled up again but he held back the tears.

  “Thank you,” he said, holding onto the card. “I’d like to see her.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” said Frances. “The coroner has her today as he needs to determine the exact cause, time and details of her death. Tomorrow or Friday should be fine.”

  “Friday,” he said. “And then Aunt May can come down to London and I can spend the weekend with her in Manchester.”

  Frances nodded.

  “I think that sounds like a good plan. I’ll pick you up at about this time. Say 3 o’clock on Friday and Alfred and I will drive you down to London.”

  “Don’t feel rushed to get back on Sunday or Monday,” said Lyon. “Take all of next week if you need, to be with your Aunt.”

  “Would you mind showing us that letter now?” asked Frances.

  Sebastian nodded and stood up.

  “We’ll be back before we leave for London,” said Frances to Percy.

  Sebastian led the four of them out of the Headmaster’s office and they walked along the path that Sebastian had just some minutes before come up. They walked alongside the rugby fields and Sebastian got some shouts from his team mates. He waved at them, but there wasn’t much effort in it. They walked south along Barby Road and passed Horton Crescent which headed east.

  As they reached the end of the rugby fields Sebastian crossed over the road and walked towards a small set of buildings. A plaque on the entrance indicated that this was Sheriff House. Inside they came upon Housemaster Foggledy who enquired after them. He told Sebastian he would be in his office if needed. Sebastian said he wanted to go back to rugby when he was done and play with his friends.

  Sebastian led them up two flights of well-worn wooden stairs to the top floor where the rooms for his group was. In the southwest corner of this floor he led them into a small room. It was rectangular in shape. Along the long length was a single bed smartly made. At the end of the room was a small desk with drawers and a cupboard, below a window that looked out over some trees and greenery. Opposite the bed was a wardrobe.

  Sebastian went over to his desk which was as neat as the rest of the bedroom and he sat down. There was a calendar on the desk in front of the chair that also acted as a blotter. There was a miniature toy car under a desk lamp on the left side of the desk and on the right was a small container holding a couple of pencils and a couple of pens. A metal ruler was lined up parallel to the calendar and next to the container of writing instruments was a black and white photograph of Sebastian and his family. Frances recognized the man from the picture she’d seen of him in Pelagia’s room at the Smalley farmhouse. She had never met Pelagia but she was an attractive and happy woman in the photograph. From Sebastian’s age it looked like it had only been taken two or three years ago.

  “Is that a recent photograph?” asked Frances.

  Sebastian looked at it and then picked it up. He ran his fingers over his mother and father.

  “It was taken the summer of forty,” he said. “Just before my father died.”

  He put the photograph back down. Frances didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much she could say at a time like this about a photograph like that. They looked happy, but she couldn’t say that. For all the happiness had left. Sebastian opened up the top right drawer of his desk and he pulled out an envelope. It was sealed. On the front of the envelope was written “Sebastian Paterson” in what was likely a woman’s cursive handwriting. Sebastian handed it to Lady Marmalade. Frances opened up the envelope and took out the unlined sheet of paper. The ink was in blue and it was the same cursive hand that had written on the front of the envelope. It was addressed to Sebastian so Frances decided to read it out loud.

  “My Dear Sebastian,

  I’m so sorry that you are now reading this. It means that what I feared has come true. I never expected it nor wanted it. I have spoken with your Aunt May and she is more than happy to be your guardian. I know the two of you have gotten along famously and that brings me some small comfort. I ask that you don’t labor upon the past but look towards the future. I know that Paul and I will always be in your heart but it is a bright future that I ask you to now work towards. I’m sorry if you feel that I let you down. I didn’t want this to happen. I wanted to watch you grow up to become a fine young man. I wanted to see you get married and have children…”

  Sebastian was sobbing softly to himself. He dabbed at his eyes with the handkerchief he still had.

  “I’ll stop there now. I just want you to kn
ow how much I love you. I have given Aunt May a letter that expresses my feelings more fully about you. Ask her for it. This letter, however, is about my work, and that is what I must now speak of.

  I believe that Group Captain Stanley Dowd has double crossed us and become a spy for the Germans. Over the last few months he has slowly been asking Minnie Shelford and I to give him different records from the ones that Mr. Walter Brimley had originally authorized. Minnie and I are besides ourselves. We don’t know what to do. Stanley has assured us that Walter is aware of this change of plans. Yet these documents we’ve been asked to give him are real secrets. They detail how the Bombe works in decrypting the German Enigma Machine.

  He’s also requested examples of the actual encrypted messages we’ve been able to decrypt using the Bombe. I’m worried that if this information gets into the wrong hands that the war will get much more difficult for us. Dare I say we might end up losing?

  Minnie and I really want to speak to Walter about this but he’s so difficult to see. And if you bring to his attention something about which he is already aware he becomes quite abrupt and rude about it. Especially to the girls. So we really don’t know what to do. But I’m at my wit’s end. Stanley has told us not to bother Walter with this as Walter’s too busy and he’s given Stanley the authority to run this Operation Cracking Eggs, as Stanley likes to call it. What a horrible name for such an important mission. I sometimes wonder if it’s real. Except that I know it is because of the documents requested.

  Minnie and I have decided that come what may we’ll approach Walter at the middle of the month if things haven’t improved. Just before I came up here I bumped into Walter and he assured me that Stanley is beyond reproach. A man he would bet his life on. That’s what he said. That makes it even more difficult. But Minnie and I are of one mind. We will speak to Walter come the fifteenth if Stanley is still making these same requests.

  We have to do this because I haven’t really been following protocol and I need to know what to do. Stanley’s been asking for records I don’t believe he’s entitled to. Minnie agrees, and so what we’ve been doing is creating fake records of the sorts that he wants. But surely the Germans will discover they’re fake at some point. Now Minnie and I are wondering if we aren’t putting Stanley in danger because of our subversive ways. We must find out for certain.