“I stand corrected.”
Both men were momentarily distracted. Alice Thorne was fastening her cart to one of the fence posts.
Hoeniger nodded in her direction. “In my opinion, there is a woman of courage. She is always trying to persuade us to take the peace pledge. Many people see that as supporting our enemies. I’ve seen men here get really angry with her, calling her traitor and so on.”
“What about you, as a man devoting his life to the Christian God of peace, have you taken the pledge?”
The seminarian grinned. “Of course. Does Mrs. Thorne live in town, by the way? I’d think she runs the risk of having people burning crosses on her lawn if she does.”
“Oh, no, she told me she has her own cottage in the woods. Perhaps for exactly that reason. She raises rabbits and fresh vegetables. She rescues unwanted dogs.”
“She is indeed saintly.”
Alice had put a wooden yoke around her neck from which dangled two baskets of apples. It was an old-fashioned but effective way to transport them. She disappeared into the mess tent.
Hoeniger lay back on the grass, his hands underneath his head. “Pretend I am one of your patients. Let’s say one of the three H’s.”
“Who?”
“Herr Hitler, Herr Heydrich, and Herr Himmler.”
Beck chuckled. “I have to say that one man I would truly have liked to have on my couch would be Herr Himmler.”
“Good heavens why? The man is a devil incarnate.”
“I don’t believe in devils, my dear Hans, just troubled men.”
“But why Herr Himmler? Why not Heydrich? Or the Fuhrer himself?”
“I have heard on the absolutely best authority that Herr Himmler suffers dreadfully from his stomach. I have no doubt that it is his guilt that is eating at him.”
Hoeniger squinted up at him. “Guilt about what?”
“He has acquired much power, but temperamentally I believe he is a timid man whose more natural inclination would be to follow a leader. However, he is also extremely ambitious, and the two opposing drives are creating an internal conflict which is causing his stomach distress.”
“Bah. And not that he eats too much sauerkraut and sausage for instance?”
“That too,” said Beck with a laugh. “So there you have it. Are you more enlightened now?”
“It’s been most edifying. Do you miss being in Berlin?”
“Very much. I joined the Berlin Psychoanalytic Institute in 1920, and was most content until the Nazi menace began to make itself felt. I had no choice but to leave.”
“When did you get out?”
“Right before the declaration of war in ’39. I was lucky.”
They heard a familiar clanging of the warning bell. A voice came over the loudspeaker.
“All internees to gather immediately in the mess tent. The major has an important message. All internees to gather immediately.”
“What’s that all about?” asked Hoeniger. “I must say, I always get the shivers, thinking that they’re going to announce England has been invaded.”
“Let’s hope not. We’re all sitting ducks in here. Come on, we’d better go.”
Beck closed up his file box and tucked it under his arm, and the two of them joined the flow of men walking to the tent.
The doctor felt chilled to the bone. He’d been quite sanguine when he was talking to Hoeniger, but there was a terrifying tide of evil that had been unleashed upon the world, and he had a sinking feeling that this little backwater was far from exempt.
42.
TELLING THE LAND GIRLS THAT ANOTHER OF THEIR friends had been murdered was one of the hardest things Tyler had ever done.
Nobody had much to say, but Miss Stillwell assured them that anybody who wished to apply for leave could do so. Likewise, anyone who did not want to work for the rest of the day was excused. Tyler left as they were discussing this, but all seemed in favour of continuing work. He promised he would return as soon as he had any developments in the case. As he was leaving the room, Molly Cooper impulsively ran over and hugged him. Freckles and Sylvia followed suit.
“We know you’ll find out who the culprit is, Inspector.”
From the hostel, Tyler drove straight to the hospital. To his relief, Miss Parsons was not at the desk and he went straight down to the morgue, where he found Dr. Murnaghan busy weighing out some rather slimy looking pieces of liver.
“I’ll just be a minute. I’m portioning out some rations for the cats. It’s not human liver; don’t worry. I just keep the meat down here where it’s cool. If you go over to my desk, you’ll find my report on the Watkins girl. I put the cord that was around her neck in a separate envelope. It looks like your common garden variety of rope to me, but the lab might find something more. You can deal with that. I had to cut off her clothes and they’ll need to be burnt. They stink to high heaven. She had a rosary in her pocket and I’ve salvaged that. It’s in that other envelope. Her family will probably want it. There was nothing else.”
The coroner began to wrap up each piece of liver in brown paper.
Tyler went over to the desk and opened up the report.
“I see she was virgo intacto. No sign of rape?”
“Nope. There was no semen anywhere on her body so she wasn’t assaulted in that way. She had a nasty wound on the back of her head which wouldn’t have killed her, but would most likely have rendered her unconscious. There were bits of bark in the wound, so I’d say she was hit with a piece of wood.”
Tyler turned the page. “Cause of death definitely asphyxiation?”
“Yes. It was sudden, violent, and quick. Tiny little thing she was, wouldn’t have put up much of a fight, but I didn’t find any defensive bruising on her arms, nothing under her fingernails.” He went over to the sink and began to wash the blood from his hands. “Her assailant came from behind. She probably didn’t know what hit her. Literally.”
“Before she was moved to the Fort, do you think she was first buried somewhere in the woods?”
“I’d say not. There weren’t a significant number of leaves or dirt in her clothing.”
Tyler was skimming through the report as the doctor was talking. The last things Rose had eaten were biscuits and a savoury pie of some kind. He had a sudden vivid picture of the two of them in the library at the hostel and how Rose had tucked into the biscuits with such pleasure.
Dr. Murnaghan dried off his hands. “You’d better have a look at the body. I haven’t tried to tidy her up. The family will have to have a closed coffin.”
When Tyler returned to the police station, Sergeant Gough was at the desk, and he read the signs immediately.
“Tough go, sir?”
“I’ll say.”
“I’m afraid I have some troubling news, sir. Dennis McEvoy has scarpered.”
“What?”
“I sent Aston round to his house and his mother said that Dennis has been called back to his regiment in Liverpool. He packed a suitcase and left.”
“Is that true? Has he been recalled?”
“No, it’s not. I rang Major Fordham at the camp and as far as he is concerned, McEvoy is under no orders other than his. He is now considered to be AWOL.”
“Put out an all-station alert. We’ve got to find him.”
“He has a motorcycle, but according to Aston it’s up on blocks, so he’s not using that.”
“Shite. He must have taken off as soon as Janet came here.”
“Is she all right?”
“Considering the circumstances, not bad, I suppose.”
“I brought the major up to date concerning Rose Watkins. He was going to make an announcement to the camp. Are you going to go over there, sir?”
“I don’t see anything to be gained at the moment. But ring Fordham again, will you, Guff. Tell him I’d like to consult with that psychiatrist bloke. Say I’ll come to the camp tomorrow morning.”
“Becoming a convert are you, sir?”
“No, I wo
uldn’t say that. But I’m damned if I’m going to be accused of having a closed mind. If he helps me one iota, I’ll take it.”
He was heading for his office when the front door swung open with a bang and Constable Eagleton burst in. He was holding his gas mask box in front of him as if it were a bird’s nest full of eggs.
“Sir. I found Rose’s hat and handbag.”
Carefully, Eagleton removed a straw hat and white handbag from the box. He put a handkerchief on the counter and unwrapped it. There were half a dozen cigarette butts inside.
“I found these a few feet away from where the hat was. And there’s this.”
He was holding a chunk of wood. The smear of blood at one end was clear.
“Dr. Murnaghan found some bark in the wound on the back of her head,” said Tyler. “That must have been what the killer used. Guff, will you tag it. Well done, Eager.”
“The hat was just lying on the ground, and the handbag was close by.”
Tyler examined one of the butts. “Good old Woodbines. Where were they?”
“Quite a long way from the Fort, sir. When I was retracing her footsteps through the woods, I’d only walked six minutes. The path runs almost at right angles from the road. Fairly easy to walk.”
“Does this mean she was meeting somebody?” Gough asked. “He was waiting and, for whatever reason, let loose and clobbered her.”
“I don’t know. If that is what happened, he was there for a while. Even a chain smoker would take a couple of hours at least to go through that many cigarettes.”
“Is it the same person who was at the Fort?”
“I don’t think so. These fags have been smoked to the bitter end. The others weren’t that way at all.” He studied the butts more closely. “You know what, lads. These were not discarded all at the same time. Have a good look. See, those two are thoroughly soaked and soggy. Those three less so, and this one’s dry. Eager, were they close together or scattered?”
“I’d say scattered around, sir.”
“So the smoker goes back to this spot on a regular basis, smokes a fag or two and does what? Studies mushrooms?”
“None there, sir.”
“Figure of speech, Eager. All right. I want you to head up the search. Guff, let’s get as many men on to it as we can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Eager, you said you walked for six minutes. How far is that?”
“About a quarter of a mile, sir. I picked up a path about half a mile along the road from the hostel. I’d say I was walking west toward the camp. The land slopes downward and the trees are thick so the spot is well hidden.”
“All right. Let’s keep an open mind, as the man says, but I’m betting Rose wasn’t meeting anybody. She was hurrying to get to Mass but she disturbed somebody. Somebody who didn’t want to be discovered. She was attacked from the rear and she didn’t defend herself.”
“As if she was running away,” said the constable.
“Exactly. Let’s get everybody out there. Go over every inch of ground. I want to know what our fag-loving chappie was doing.”
“Could it be a Jerry parachutist?” asked Eagleton.
“So many people keep suggesting this, I’m going to start believing it myself,” said Tyler in exasperation. “But this killer hid Rose’s body from Thursday night to Saturday. Where? Dr. Murnaghan is sure she wasn’t buried before she was moved to the Fort.”
“He had a vehicle of some kind,” said Gough.
“That’s my guess. Eager, scour the side of the road where the path into the woods starts. The rain might have created a little mud and, God help us, some tire tracks. Measure and photograph whatever you find. Guff, how long before you can muster a posse?”
“An hour.”
Tyler gave Eagleton a swipe on the arm. “Get going. Leave a marker at the road and the others will join you there. Don’t give up until it’s dark.”
The constable, trying unsuccessfully to hide his pride in the assignment, hurried off.
Tyler lifted the piece of wood and slipped it gingerly into a large cotton evidence bag. “We’ll send this to the lab for confirmation but I’d say that’s what she was hit with. Poor lassie. And then whoever it was made sure she was dead. Thoroughly and totally dead.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She was eighteen, Guff. Eighteen!”
43.
CLARE’S FLAT WAS ABOVE THE FORMER STABLES, NOW being used for storage of furniture taken from the dowager house. She was waiting for Tyler at the top of the covered stairs that ran outside the building.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” she said, smiling. “I’m in here.”
She turned and led the way into the flat. She was wearing a pair of green silk trousers that flowed from her hips, and a halter top, which showed off the vertebrae of her neck and back. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and as she walked in front of him, she left a slight waft of a flowery scent on the air. He knew his pulse rate increased – from walking up the stairs, probably.
The flat reminded Tyler of a converted railway carriage. It was one long narrow space, no walls demarcating the different rooms except for one at the far end, behind which he guessed was the bathroom. A wicker screen partitioned off a space to the right, near the door, and through the slats, he could see a double bed.
“Dinner is almost ready.”
“Smells delicious.”
“Does it? Good. I’m afraid the place does still get a bit pungent on damp days even though the horses have long gone. There’s a fly swatter on that chair. If you can dispatch a few, I’d be most grateful.”
She continued on to a tiny galley kitchen. He dispatched several flies buzzing around the window.
“What do you want me to do with the corpses?”
“Knock them into the corner. I’ll sweep them up later. Sit down at the table. I’m almost ready.”
Even though she might be living above a converted stable, Clare’s cutlery and dishes would have been quite suitable for a posh stately home. The plates had gold rims; the knives and forks looked like silver, not plate. Flowers were arranged in a cut glass vase on the table. It was a far cry from the shabby restaurant.
She was stirring the gravy on the stove and she called to him over her shoulder. “Pour us some wine, will you? It’s not quite as good as we had last night, but it’s palatable.”
He did as she asked, pouring the red wine into crystal glasses as Clare came over to the table with a platter of meat. A roast of beef was surrounded with potatoes swimming in the juice from the meat. He was practically salivating from the mere sight.
“Help yourself. I’ll get the vegetables.”
She returned to the kitchen, spooned the carrots and peas into their respective covered vegetable dishes, and brought them to the table with the gravy boat.
He raised his glass. “Cheerio and pip, pip, dahling.”
She threw him a surprised glance and he chuckled.
“Sorry, can’t help it. It’s the furnishings. My diction is improving in sheer self-defence.”
“Everything belongs to Aunt Gwen. My things are all in Switzerland.”
“Does your husband mind that you are here and he’s over there?”
Clunk. What had made him ask that?
“Not really.” She looked discomfited.
The next several minutes were spent with the typical dining rituals. She dished out the vegetables, asked how the meal was; he exclaimed at the tenderness of the meat. But he cursed himself for the remark about her husband. Couldn’t resist, could you, Tyler?
“Major Fordham made an announcement at the camp about Rose,” said Clare. “It really is quite dreadful. What is going on, Tom?”
“I wish I knew. It’s pretty certain she was killed in the woods, not too far from here. She was hidden somewhere and then moved back to the Fort. Much closer to town and not too far from where Elsie was found.”
Clare was toying with her food. “Funny how this sort of topic takes one
’s appetite away.”
Tyler sliced through the beef and forked up some potatoes.
“I’m not so delicate. I’m not going to let this go to waste. But let’s change the subject. How did you get to be such a good cook?”
“Cooking classes in France. I actually don’t get much opportunity to practice.”
“Why is that? Do you only eat once a month?”
“Tom!”
“You don’t cook at home in Switzerland?”
“No, we have domestic help. Valentin has to entertain a lot and I certainly am not the kind of woman who can whip up a gourmet meal for ten or more, then dash upstairs and change into evening dress and deal with pompous boring men for hours. I would get the screaming meemies.”
“So you sacrificed the cooking part?”
“That’s right.”
“Perhaps it should be the other way around. You do the cooking you like so much and hire somebody to be the hostess.”
He’d tried to make his tone jocular, but she sighed. “We came back to that familiar place pretty quickly, didn’t we Tom?”
“ What do you mean?”
“Don’t play coy. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I didn’t choose to be born into gentry, albeit impoverished gentry.”
“You might not have chosen that at birth but you can choose what you do now. You could give it all up if you wanted to and live like a dairy maid in a cottage. A dairy maid, on the other hand, has not the choice to go and live in Switzerland where she could entertain guests with silver cutlery and fine china dishes.”
“Please don’t let’s quarrel, Tom. I was looking forward to making you a nice meal and the two of us having a pleasant time together catching up like old friends.”
“Sorry. It is a wonderful meal. Better than I’ve had in ages. I promise I won’t make any more cracks about your life of privilege.”
“Tom!”
“Joke. That was a joke.” He fished in his jacket pocket, took out the little tissue package, and put it on the table. “A gift for the hostess.”
“How did you know you’d be needing a peace offering?”
Season of Darkness Page 24